#they’re sitting by a candle if its not clear

[watermelonsugacry]

harry's 30th birthday blurb with 1d!yn?! 👀

Birthday Surprises

SUMMARY: Harry celebrates his 19th and 30th birthday with the person he loves.

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn, married!ynrry

Since 2010 masterlist

Not to sound ungrateful, but Harry thinks that this was one of the worst birthday celebrations that he's ever had.

Tonight, he just wanted to spend his last year being a teenager having fun with friends—not be completely embarrassed and uncomfortable being strip teased and danced on by strippers. 

Not to mention that afterwards, One Direction’s management team had booked him to do a relationship stunt for the night. So as he walked out of the club and into his security team’s Range Rover, a tall, blonde model was by his side. As bad as it sounded, he couldn’t remember the girl’s name for the life of him. 

Nothing was going to happen with her anyways. All they had to do was a couple of paparazzi pictures of them together before they’re driven off into the night. The driver would discreetly drop her off at her own hotel before escorting Harry back to his. 

So there's not an ounce of uncertainty that when Harry comes out of the elevator, he's absolutely tired and wants nothing more than to be left alone.

He waves his card key in front of the lock and once he hears the little "beep" sound, he pushes the heavy door open.

His irritation and tiredness might have just peaked over its breaking point when he begins to hear rustling from inside. He’s already extremely worn out that he doesn’t even want to put in the effort into putting on a nice face to whoever’s inside his hotel room. But the smile that appears on his face is effortless when he sees YN flicking the wheel of the lighter over some birthday candles sticking out of a chocolate cake.

“Fucking fuck—oh, surprise!” She hops, extending her arms out beside her in what she hopes to look like a grand gesture.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re celebrating your birthday.” 

Anyone a mile away can tell how uncomfortable he was during the whole stripper fiasco. It sucked to have to stand off to the side, a faux smile on her face to see her bandmate in that type of situation. As much as she wanted to stay with him for the other “fun” festivities the night had to offer, she knew that she couldn’t let his birthday end the way it was heading. So she took the chance to leave the club a bit early and hoped that he would be up for one more celebratory, late night hang out.  

“But, but it’s already past midnight,” He blinks, still a little dumbfounded at the kind surprise before him.

"Oh come on, we only have—err—three, ah! Two more minutes until your birthday is officially over." YN pulls Harry over to the small dining table and sits him down in front of his freshly lit cake. It's then that he notices the shaky lettering on the cake that reads, “Happy Birthday Harry!” Letting him know that she went more out of her way for him than she initially let on. 

She comically clears her throat before beautifully yet quickly singing the infamous Happy Birthday song. The song isn't being yelled at to him by a big group of people, and the room isn't jam-packed with people he doesn't know. When he leans over to blow out his candles, he isn't fearful of hands going to the back of his head to stuff his face into the cake.

He doesn’t think twice about wrapping her up in his arms. He squeezes the tops of her shoulders tightly and she nestles into his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, “Thank you.”

The sentiment doesn't, can't go by unnoticed, but it doesn't seem totally out of the norm. This is Harry. A sweet and affectionate person whose love language is undoubtedly physical touch. If anything, it'd be YN feeling the one out of place in this situation. And maybe it was a change of heart towards her anti-touchy feelings or maybe it was because of his birthday. Either way, he's grateful for the way she's letting him hold her. If it were anyone else, she definitely wouldn't wrap her arms around his torso, humming at the warmth he brings.

"Well the night doesn’t have end here,” YN blinks up at him. As if they both realize their close proximity, they slowly pull away to give each other some space. “If you're still up for it and not too tuckered out, I rented that one stupid rom com you like. The one with the guy standing outside with the signs."

"Love Actually? I thought you didn't like that movie."

"Well to be fair, I actually have never seen it. But it’s your birthday and this is sort of part of my gift to you. You know, if you even wanna see it. If not, I can just fuck off and you can sleep because I know you probably had a pretty eventful day—”

She’s rambling. YN’s rambling—a quality she was never prone to particularly show, but it’s cute. He thinks she’s cute. 

“YN,” He chuckles, effectively cutting her off. “I’m down to watch it.”

“Really? Okay, cool. Because I already have the film on queue in the room so that would have been real fooking embarrassing.” Annnd she’s back.

He watches with curious eyes as she carefully slides the heavy cake plate onto her hands. 

She throws a nod towards the kitchenette, “Mind grabbing the forks.”

As much as Harry tries to resist it, he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. He quickly grabs the two utensils before following behind her to the open bedroom. YN quite literally steps onto the foot of the bed before carefully sitting down, balancing the cake in her hands.

He sits down next to her, handing her the fork just as she begins the movie. They both dig their forks into the middle of the cake, taking out a chunk.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” She says, clicking the ends of their forks together. She happily hums at the delicious dessert but it quickly turns into a groan at the opening aong of the movie. “Ah not this stupid song again. I felt like this was all i was hearing just the other month.”

He’d be lying if he said he was watching more of the movie than her. His cheeks hurt from chuckling at her witty commentary and he tries not to make a big deal about the way she actually started to get into the film. So as he eats cake and spends the rest of the night with his best friend, he thinks that this might be the best birthday he’s had in a long time.

• 11 years later ●

YN stumbles through the front door as Harry cradles her in his arms, his mouth feverishly pressed to hers. They smile through their kisses, and he hums as she runs her finger through his growing curls. Harry kicks the door of their shared home behind him and blindly tosses the keys haphazardly in the general direction of the bowl by the door.

“Okay, okay,” YN pushes against his shoulders, finally getting a breath in, the pair still walking further into their home without separating. “So I know you said you didn't want any more presents—”

“Baby,” the grown man playfully whines. “You've already given me everything.” In all sincerity, she really has in his eyes. He’s been in love with the woman before him since they were sixteen. He wanted to be with her since their time in the band, through the making of their solo albums and everything in between. Even though it’s been a little over a year now, it still brings an explainable peace and warmth to his heart that she’s now his wife; not his friend with benefits, secret lovers, or merely a couple, but married.

And today couldn't have gone better. YN had the whole day planned. They started the day with lazy morning sex that turned into breakfast in bed. They spent the afternoon down by a secluded beach, having an impromptu dip in the water just before eating the lunch she packed for them. Then, after a plane ride to their private villa in Italy, they've just got back from having a beautiful dinner at his favorite restaurant.

“There's nothing more I could possibly want. Ooo, unless you're hiding some sexy lingerie under this fine ass dress you got here.” He says into her the crook of her neck, already sponging kisses onto her skin.

YN lets out a laugh, especially as his fingers begin to bunch up her silk dress. “No! Well, not no but—”

“So you do,” Harry says with excitement, the creases in his eyes appear when he hears her laughter. 

“Just hang on a sec. Your present is upstairs.”

“So I get to unwrap my last birthday present in the bedroom,” He teases her further. Her husband relishes in the way she lets out a girly squeal when he dips down and effortlessly lifts her over his shoulder to bring them into the master bedroom. 

 “Wait, wait,” She pushes as Harry plops them down on the bed, already trapping her underneath him. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Once she's managed to wiggle herself free (with great effort, no thanks to Harry) she scurries off to the connected bathroom.

He sits himself down on the bed, undoing the cuffs of his button up before rolling up his sleeves, preparing himself to see if wife in lacy undergarments that are only begging to be taken off by his teeth. Or torn off. Either one would work.

“H, close your eyes.” YN says from behind the door. “I mean it, no peeking.”

“Alright, alright.” He complies, already feeling a childlike sense of giddy anticipation. 

“Are they closed?”

“Yeah.”

“...are you sure?”

“Yes! For fuck sake’s woman. Being so mean on my birthday,” he laughs.

He feels the bed dip next to him before a kiss is pressed to his lips. Before he can bring his hands to her jaw to deepen the sweet kiss, he feels something being placed in his hands.

“Okay, open them,” she says against his lips.

He pulls back and sees a red box tied with a bow on top. 

“Lovie, you really shouldn't have.”

“Last one, I promise.”

Just to tease her, he brings the small box next to his head and shakes it slightly to hear the contents rattle inside.

YN makes a strategic move by placing one of her hands behind him so her thumb can twist at her rings, knowing that that's her dead giveaway for her nerves.

When he opens the lid, it's only then his face gets serious—lips slightly parted with soft eyes. On top of the pile of confetti lies a pregnancy test. The small, red plus line stares back at him clear as day.

“YN?” When he looks to his love, she begins to hold back her tears at the sight of his watery eyes and pink nose. “Is—wha—are you sure?”

“I took like five of them just to be sure,” she lets out a chuckle.

“We’re having a baby?” Words can't describe the warmth and happiness that fills her chest at his excitement. It's not like they haven't mentioned having kids before. It's been brought up a couple of times, most recently these past two years, but the timing was never right. They were always working; whether it be on making an album, working on themselves, and for the longest time, tour was their babies. But now that their 2 year world tours have ended and they've finally had time to go MIA for a couple of months, it didn't feel like a better time.

The couple wasn't setting up a schedule or anything technical to have a baby. Especially since going on their second honeymoon had been occupying their schedule right after touring was done, they decided that baby making would happen naturally. Whenever their baby decided to enter their lives, that would be the perfect time.

YN nods and before she can say the words to verbally confirm, he has her wrapped in his arms. Harry lifts her off the bed and gives her a little twirl.

As quickly as he picked her up, he's on his knees before her and puts a gentle hand on her tummy.

“Hi, bubba,” he says softly. YN beams at the sight, already wiping at the happy tears running down her cheeks. “I'm your daddy, and I love you so so much.”

After placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, he finally takes his wife's face in his hands and kisses her. It isn't rushed or filled with a sexual need. It's soft and filled with so much love and passion.

“We're gonna be parents, baby. You’re gonna make the best momma," he says sincerely, getting more emotional at the thought of holding a mini YN or a mini him in his arms in less than a year from now.

"And you're gonna make the best dad," she hums. He wraps his arms around the tops of her shoulders, pulling her close to him as she cuddles into him. He presses a kiss to her forehead and sniffs back his tears.

"I love you so much."

“i love you, baby. Happy birthday, Harry.”

.

.

taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee @thurhomish @armystay89

(Let me know if you wanna be added 💚)

#harry x 1dbandmember!reader #since 2010 series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #1dbandmember!yn #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles birthday #harry styles 30 #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles and you #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x famous!reader #famous!yn #famous!reader #harry styles and famous reader

[reaveries]

▬  𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲

gif credit to @robpattinsongifs (much higher resolution on their account)

summary: late-night visits from your definitely human boyfriend

pairings: edward cullen x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k (approximately 7 minutes reading time)

a/n:  I’ve had this baby marinating in my drafts since January, when I was going through my bi-annual Twilight Renaissance. I was actually in the middle of writing a RE2R Leon Kennedy fic today and decided to put on a twilight playlist, and then I just knew I had to finish this one. It’s my first *published* non-RDR fic heehee (I have so much in my drafts, it’s insane). Anyways, enjoy (pardners)!

masterlist archive of our own

It’s that dreadful time of year again. 

The sun is making its curtain call as students from the nearby elementary school trip over themselves running home. Little girls and boys have sticky remnants of lunch peeking from the corners of their mouths and the grass is still slick from morning showers. But dusk is impatient in February, and its eagerness is encouraged in a town hidden beneath perpetual overcast nine months out of the year.

The school children ran past her window minutes ago when the sky had been painted brilliant indigo. Now, when she looks up the only thing left to see is her own dark reflection and the warm orange glow from a candle on the sill. Its tall flame stutters, collapsing and rising with the damp breeze. 

A page turns, disrupting the otherwise quiet room. The only other noise that can be heard is a soft pitter of water dripping onto the floorboards from a coat hanging off the closet door. 

She reaches for a mug sitting on the corner of her nightstand and promptly sets it back down upon finding it empty. It returns to its spot atop crumpled receipts and library hold slips belonging to the growing stack of books accumulating dust at her bedside. These books tower over the permanent nightstand residents: lazily discarded beaded necklaces, a sample bottle of floral perfume from Christmas, two little ceramic bunnies purchased from an antique mall in Port Angeles last summer, car keys, and drugstore chapstick. It might be worth convincing her to let go of some of these post-object permanence discoveries, but that is a matter for another time.

In a desperate attempt to comprehend the words she’s reading, she rolls onto her back and extends her arms straight in the air so the book hovers a foot from her face—a change of perspective to freshen the mind.

It does not help. 

No matter how much she shifts or squints, the antiquated prose remains stubbornly uninviting. She can’t fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to something so archaic and convoluted and furthermore, recommend it as one of their favorite novels.

With a huff, she adjusts the headphones at her ears, hoping the music will clear her mind. But despite her best efforts, the book slowly drifts closer to her chest and her eyelids grow heavier as the music lulls her into a dreamless sleep. 

When she wakes to cold fingers grazing her jaw it’s impossible to tell whether she’d fallen asleep or if she just blinked. The weight of the headphones gently disappears as they’re pulled off and set down on the nightstand. She grumbles incoherently and stretches out her legs, not unlike a cat after a long, difficult day of lounging around. Her eyes begrudgingly flutter open and immediately find him only inches away. He’s watching her, peering down with a twinkle in his amber-colored eyes.

“Edward…” she whispers.

“Dracula,” he says, eyebrows raised as he makes the observation. “I thought you didn’t like Gothics.”

She reaches a finger into the book on her chest and folds the page over before tossing it carelessly into the sea of knitted and quilted blankets at the foot of the bed. With the haze of sleep still clouding her eyes, she smiles sheepishly up at him.

“I’m trying.”

He chuckles lightly and brings his hand to her hair again, brushing stray strands off her forehead and tucking them behind her ears before leaning down to place a chaste kiss above her eyes. Though his lips are soft, the icy touch of his skin sends a shiver down her spine. He’s always cold; a result of his anemia, he says. However, the downpour that's dampened his hair and clothes to his skin has chilled him even more so.

In an effort to sit up, she raises herself onto her elbows and catches a glimpse of the bright red digital numbers on her bedside clock.

“You’re late, you know,” she chides, watching him settle uncomfortably at the head of the bed. He sinks down among the pillows, their plushness contrasting humorously with the stiffness of his demeanor. He reaches behind his back and tugs free a stuffed rabbit lodged between him and the headboard, then sets it down softly beside himself.

“I had to make a quick stop. I hope you can forgive me,” he says in a hushed voice, so as not to make too much noise in the resting house. His eyes flit towards the nightstand and she follows them to see a new item sitting amongst the disorder. A tall styrofoam cup with steam rising thinly from the lid. Coffee. 

The mug she just finished sits right beside it. She’d considered brewing more but that was before being rendered unconscious by Bram Stoker nearly an hour ago. Her heart swells at his thoughtfulness, but a more pressing question comes to mind before she can voice her gratitude.

“How did you even climb up here with that?” She asks, reaching for the cup with both hands.

“I’m very…agile.” There’s a look in his eyes that tells her there’s more to it, but she chooses to ignore it for now with a shake of her head.

The taste is immediately harsh, significantly more bitter than how she makes it herself. Any trace of a smile dissipates and is replaced with a pronounced look of disgust.

“Good God, Edward,” she exclaims. “Decaf? What did I ever do to you?”

He laughs and takes it from her hands, leaving her still reeling from the unexpected taste. “As much as I love staying up with you, you need sleep,” he says, a hint of sternness in his voice. “You didn’t get any last night and you don’t hide it well.”

He says the last part sweetly, tilting his head to the side and following her motions with his eyes, watching her pick up the stuffed rabbit by its cotton paw.

“Don’t hide it well?” She repeats, the indignation in her voice contrasting with the softness of the toy as she raises it high into the air and brings it down against his chest with a soft thud. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have to hide anything if you—weren’t—keeping—me—up—all—night!”

With every word, the rabbit hits his forearms poorly attempting to shield himself from the blows. Edward grins as she attacks him, the soft toy barely making a sound against his arms. He watches as her hair falls across her face in the midst of the unrelenting attack, the warm glow of the candle casting a soft halo around her.

But then, his amusement fades as he sees the exhaustion in her eyes. 

He gently takes the rabbit from her and sets it aside before grabbing her arm mid-swing and pulling her into his chest. She sighs heavily and surrenders, relaxing against him. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his lips brushing against her hair. “I’ll let you rest tonight.”

Despite his tender words, a residual half-baked frustration lingers inside her. “How did you manage to stay awake in class?” she mumbles into his sweater, the words muffled. “I mean, you didn’t get any sleep either.”

He chuckles, as if privy to some inside joke.

“Well, someone had to take your notes for you,” he says, his fingers trailing through her hair in a soothing motion. “And besides, you looked so peaceful drooling away.” 

She looks up at him, a hint of a drowsy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I did not drool,” she insists.

He grins down at her, his eyes alight with fondness. “Of course not.”

She groans and buries her head into his chest, to which he responds by encircling his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“I’m never falling asleep in front of you again,” she grumbles.

His chest rumbles beneath her cheek as he laughs. “Alright, angel.”

He shifts his hand from the crown of her head to the curve of her back, tracing languid circles over the fabric of her t-shirt as the room fills with a comfortable silence. The rain outside grows heavier, tapping against the glass with a more insistent force. Her body is warm against his and he can feel the steady thumping of her heartbeat as if it's his own. A few minutes slip by, and he senses her breathing even out and deepen. Without disturbing her, he reaches for a nearby blanket and drapes it over her, then turns his gaze to the candle on the windowsill.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, as the dwindling flame fades out of focus. 

This is his favorite part of the day.

Vague arrays of soft, muted hues and shapes swirl around in his vision, overtaking the warm surroundings of her bedroom. They morph into recognizable figures after some time, and he can hear them speaking when he focuses. For the most part, they sound as if he’s underwater and they’re conversing on the shore. But every now and then, a clear phrase emerges.

Suddenly, the floating shapes assimilate into a figure resembling him and he realizes what this dream is. It’s a recurring one he’s particularly fond of. He settles in and pulls her closer as the scene ebbs between reality and distortions of the unconscious mind. 

He can’t remember how he used to pass the night hours before he met her. Books, records, films--looking back, they feel hollow compared to nights spent like this. Part of him hopes he’ll never know what it's like to want for this. But these dreams, and her thoughts in the waking hours, assure him he won’t ever have to find out.

#twilight #twilight fanfic #edward cullen #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen x reader #the twilight saga #twilight 2008

[bullet-prooflove]

Rumours: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x Reader

Tagging: @chickensrule @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @justameresimp @lxaah11 @librarian1002 @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond 

You don’t know about the affair, not until Beau tells you.

Apparently, a couple of the graduates were off base one night and caught sight of their Vice Admiral in his civvies, leaving a restaurant with a woman in a little black dress. The heat in his gaze when he looked at her…

It’s clear they’re sleeping together.

There are other sightings. All of Beau with the same woman, all in compromising positions. Stolen kisses in doorways when it’s raining, his hand resting on her hip as he leads her from the theatre, whispering something salacious into her ear.

His poor wife, they say, sitting at home waiting for him while he’s out playing the field.

It’s at a retirement dinner for one of the Majors that the scuttlebutt reaches its peak. He’s seen leaving early with one of the JAG officers, a Lieutenant Commander, his hand on her lower back as he holds open the car door.

Beau doesn’t realise he’s a topic of conversation until Warlock approaches him. It’s becoming an issue, the other man tells him, you’re losing their respect.

Over what? he asks and then Warlock is forced to tell him.

He’s confused at first because not once in your entire relationship has ever he stepped out on you, the thought hasn’t even crossed his mind despite the deployments. He listens as Warlock recounts the events and he checks each one of them off in his head and he realises in every single occurrence the woman that he’s been seen with…

It's you.

It’s only when they bring Maverick in for a chat do they understand what’s happened.

There’s a lot of fresh faces on base and you’ve been deployed for over six months. They’ve all just assumed that his wife is the little lady that runs the house he lives in, like most of the other Vice Admiral’s wives. Never seen, never heard from. Just existing in the background.

It doesn’t help that you kept your maiden name when you married or the fact that Beau hates clutter, so he doesn’t keep so much as a picture on his desk. Why would he? He has them all on his phone.

You find the whole thing hilarious when he comes home and tells you that night. You’re sitting in front of the coffee table, your files spread out across it as you make notes in your legal pad, wearing  his old college t-shirt and a pair of paint splattered leggings.

The two of you have a perfectly good dining table in the kitchen, but you never use it. The living room is your space, the soft sound of Norah Jones playing in the background and the scent of wild sage and sea salt from the candle you have burning on the mantlepiece.

“It’s not funny.” He tells you as he sits down on the floor alongside of you, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

“The woman you’re having an affair with is actually your wife.” You remind him, tapping your pen upon the legal pad. “It’s a little funny.”

“You know I’d never…” He trails off as his lips brush over the curve of your shoulder because the thought of it is so repugnant to him. He doesn’t want to think about another woman in your bed, trying to take your place.

“I know.” You tell him, inclining your head so that he can read the honesty in your expression. “I would never either.”

He’s never doubted you, not for a minute.

His thumb trails along your jaw, guiding your mouth to his and he kisses you with a tenderness he reserves for no one else. He loves these moments, the ones where it’s just the two of you, at home, simply being with one another.

“Show and tell.” You say softly as his hands begin to wander, his lips seeking out that delicious little spot just underneath the hinge of your jaw, the one that makes you say his name.

“Hm.” He mumbles distractedly as his fingertips delve under the hem of the t-shirt, skirting along the line of your bra.

“I mean it Beau.” You utter, your head tipping back as he guides the shirt up and over your body, before tossing it onto the couch.

“I’ll take it into consideration.” He whispers against your skin as his fingers tug at the waistband of your leggings. “Right now, I’ve got other things I want to focus on.”

***

Beau chooses to address the issue with the Top Gun graduates. They’re fierce, loyal and above all else, he knows that they’ll put a stop to those rumours that are circulating the base. He can’t have his subordinates doubting him, he needs them to trust him, in the field and off it. News of an affair erodes that, it makes him seem duplicitous, makes them question his motives and that leads to mistakes. People get hurt or worse killed. So, yea, now he’s taking your advice, he’s doing show and tell.

“Final order of business.” He says as he stands in front of them, hands clasped together. “I need to address the rumours regarding the affair I’m having with a JAG officer.”

He senses the mood shift, backs straighten, and all eyes are on him. He nods at Warlock, whose waiting at the side door before he opens it. There’s a low murmur when you step inside, a few elbow nudges because the source of the scuttlebutt has now entered the room and is now standing alongside their Rear Admirable clad in a navy-blue JAG uniform.

Briefly Beau wonders what they expect from this latest development.

Maybe the whole, we’re just colleagues’ speech.

“This is my wife.” He introduces you to the group. “She’s a Lieutenant Commander in JAG and recently returned from a six-month deployment overseas. If you need an attorney, she’s the best we’ve got.”

It’s true, you excel at your position, and he couldn’t be prouder of you. You’ve achieved so much throughout your career and one of the reasons he’s here today is because he hates the idea of your successes being diminished by gossip.

“You have two minutes for questions.” He tells the graduates before folding his arms over his chest.

Phoenix is the first one to speak up, she raises her hand and Beau inclines his head towards her.

“How long have you been married?” She asks, leaning forward on her desk.

“Seven…” You pause because the deployments make it harder to keep track, you’ve been away for some anniversaries and home for others. You look to Beau for clarification.

“Eight.” He says, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a small smile because he knows you can never remember the exact timings. The only reason he does is because he’s meticulous about putting information into his calendar.

“Eight years.” You correct yourself. “Together for three before that.”

Rooster is next up; his elbows are on his desk before he raises two fingers.

“How does it work with the deployments?”

“Patience.” Beau informs the Lieutenant, rubbing his palm across his jawline. “Open communication.”

You don’t know the graduates, this is the first time you’ve met them, but you think you can see something underneath Rooster’s demeanour.  There’s a reason he asked that question, so you elaborate.

“You have to be honest with each other, talk about your feelings, the good ones and the bad ones especially on the lead up to it.” You reiterate before gesturing between you and Beau. “We talk as often as we can, keep each other up to date with what’s going on in our lives, even if it’s just the day-to-day stuff. If one of us doesn’t get in contact for a few days, we try not to take it too personally. I know that life on the base can get hectic and he knows sometimes you can’t just get a signal in the middle of the Pacific.”

That gets a little laugh and it’s good to see that there’s a little humour in them. You hate it when people take themselves too seriously.

“Care packages.” Beau supplements into the conversation.

“Oh, sometimes when I’m away he sends me things from home, and I send him stuff from my travels.” You tell the group, leaning back against the podium at the front of the room. “Just a little something to say we’re thinking of each other.”

You can see you’ve given Rooster some food for thought. You wonder what his circumstances are, if there’s a girl in the background, he’s thinking of getting serious about.

“Have you ever thought about giving it up?” Hangman asks, a cocktail stick dangling out of his mouth. “The job for the sake of the marriage?”

Another one with something on his mind, you think. Although you don’t spy a wedding ring on his finger, you suspect something that might be heading that way. You’re good at reading people, it comes in handy in the courtroom.

“Yea.” You answer honestly, with a small shrug of the shoulders. “We’ve talked about it a few times, but this is who I am, the same way it’s who he is. Neither of us will compromise on that, if it’s right you shouldn’t have to.”

Hangman nods knowingly before Beau interrupts.

“Alright, your two minutes is up.” His palm comes to rest upon your lower back, thumb skating over the vertebrae. “We have other places to be, so good luck with your training.”

It isn’t until you reach the corridor outside that he slows his step. The two of you find yourself alone for a minute, a rarity on such a busy military base. You lean against one wall, while he stands rigid in front of the other, both hands coming to rest on his hips.

“Those were some tough questions, right?” He asks you, his mouth setting into a grim line before he looks at you.

“That last one…” You shake your head. “The job for the sake of the marriage, that felt a little too close to home.”

Beau nods his agreement before his gaze meets yours.

“You know I’d never…”

“No, I know.” You assure him, pushing away from the wall and coming to stand before him. You reach for his collar straightening it just a little, despite the fact it didn’t require any intervention. “But it is getting harder to leave.”

Then don’t. He wants to say but instead he bites his tongue because he’s a good husband and it’s a lot more complicated than that. Your palms come to rest on his chest, he can tell you’re preoccupied with something. It’s in the way your brows crease just a little.

“What is it?” He asks you, studying your expression for clues.

You’re interrupted by the door opening as Warlock steps out into the corridor, the encrypted tablet clasped in his hands.

“We have a full schedule today...” He pauses, his finger lingering over the calendar as the two of you step apart. “I can give you a minute.”

“He’s all yours Solomon.” You say with a smile as you draw away from him.

He can already feel you slipping through his fingers, he isn’t sure what it is that gives him that sensation but it’s acute. There’s a trepidation in the pit of his stomach, something he only gets when it comes to your deployments but it’s far too soon for that. You’ve barely been home more than a couple of weeks.

“I’ll catch up with you later.” You promise before turning on your heel and striding down the corridor with purpose.

It reminds him for the moment of the first time he saw you, walking into the courtroom with your head held high, that black leather legal binder tucked under your arm. He’d been sitting in the gallery watching the trial of an Ensign accused of smuggling coke through produce in the kitchens. The idiot had been under his command at the time and elected for a court martial. You had eviscerated his case; it was both beautiful and painful to watch.

He spends the rest of the afternoon distracted, wishing the two of you had had a chance to finish that conversation.

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[neosero]

[ 01:15pm ]

and sometimes you have to remind yourself they’re gods

p.ii | fontaine version

word count | 7.5k total

noteworthy warnings | gn!reader; excessive use of the word ‘you’ sorry lol; rushed fiction; dark themes [ ? ]; violent/gory descriptions [ ? ] ( venti ); false descriptions of the archon war, implied kidnapping ( zhongli ); false post-cataclysm descriptions; inazuma spoilers for new players ( ei ); implied sag!au ( nahida ); version 3.2 spoilers and beyond ( special mention o.o );

if you find any of these warnings uncomfortable scroll away. viewer discretion is advised.

THE ANEMO ARCHON Lord Barbatos | wc. 1.5k+

Venti had always been known to chug down one too many kegs of wine when given the chance.

Although he slurs about the price going to his tab, it is always you who has to fix up every mess. Whether it be ending fist fights, pleading with angry bartenders or paying half his tabs in compensation, the guy really knows how to ruin someone’s night.

“It wasn’t my fault this time.” Venti’s whining starts right off the bat, not caring that you have barely made it any distance from the bar. It's clear with the way he stumbles that he has long since past his limit. Your arm securely holds him by the shoulder opposite of you, an attempt to steady his wobbly footing although the sigh from his lips tells you he believes the touch is something else. 

“I don’t need your excuses, Barbatos.” Your words are hushed but still harsh. His body deflates at the sound of his name used in such a tone, however he still refuses to relent.

“I promise you it wasn’t me who started it. The guy was…mouthing about everyone in there; he started saying nasty stuff about Brook’s drinks, called my music terrible and he then started…” saying things about you.

Well the guy attempted to until Venti stood from his stool, the force of the movement - or so he explained - must have tipped the drink over and spilled all over the poor guy’s clothes. Of course he got angry, who wouldn’t but when he started shouting about payment that’s when things took a turn. When Venti declined and left to grab another bottle the guy rushed him. It wasn’t his fault the guy was so drunk he missed the swing and stumbled off so badly he tripped and broke his nose. But it wasn’t like you were gonna believe a word coming from his mouth, he’s played the intoxicated card too much for it to have just been an accident this time around.

“I know you pushed him.” He opens his mouth to retort, “I know you pushed him because candles just don’t blow out within a closed bar with no windows, Barbatos. I know you pushed him because that man explained it felt like he was being shoved into the ground when he fell, Barbatos. I know you pushed him because this has been the same story with you for the last three weeks! By the gods, what has gotten into you?”

You’ve both gotten far enough from Springvale to talk freely, but hearing your voice carry in the winds of the quiet forest hurts a lot more than being scolded in front of the dozen or so citizens. You come across an abandoned supply wagon and take this as a moment to stop. By helping Venti up the back of the wagon to sit on its edge, you take the time to look him over. It is always surprising how he comes back unscathed from every encounter; not a single hair out of place, nor smudge of cheap alcohol anywhere on his clothes or lingering scent of said alcohol anywhere in the air - only noticeable when close enough to his lips. Venti sways in his seat, head hung low like a child who's been told off by their parents and sometimes it feels like just that. You sigh.

“I’m not upset with you.” The change in your tone makes his head raise and a noticeable color return to his face.

Yeah, just like a child.

“I just wish you’d fix whatever you have going on with you right now. I have a lot on my plate as is with the Knights of Favonius and getting everything I can with that Snezhnayain diplomat. I had to leave a meeting that could have been a pivotal breakthrough with them today because of you!”

You don’t see it with how you fix the legs of your armored plating, but Venti rolls his eyes. He knows about the plans of the Cryo Archon. He knows a lot more than what he lets on to the traveler or anyone else who inquiries about the matter; there's a reason he normally steers clear of the Adventures Guild’s Katherine. Still the more he relays the information to you, warnings upon warnings of caution, you don’t listen. It is demeaning knowing what little trust you have for your own god, let alone having to continue this conversation every night.

“...and you might not take this seriously, Venti, but it's really disappointing.”

“You're more disappointed that I ruined date night.” Venti had tried to hold it in, he really did but hearing you praise that woman Signora over giving praise to your own archon would make any one of Celestia’s chosen snap. He stands then, the most sober movement he has had all night and you scoff.

“Oh may Celestia take me now! This again? For the last and final time I am simply working with the women. It’s my job and whatever I do shouldn’t matter to you.”

“And why is that?” 

“Because you are a god!” The winds pick up, there is a clear green gleam in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “People offer prayers to you daily. They work and celebrate all in your name. You used to split mountains, Barbatos…What I do should be insignificant to the eyes of someone like you: our supposedly high and mighty deity.”

“It's high time you act like it.”

There is a heavy thudding in the distance, you turn around missing the clear shake in Venti’s hands. The wind rages on stirring the clouds above but you don’t care as you catch sight of a Mitachurl barreling in your direction. Clearly your shouting stirred it somehow and with how fast it's charging there is no room to run.

You draw your sword and stand in front of Venti as protection, “Damn. We’ll continue this later.” He’s gone quiet and when you dare to look away from the charging beast to see your archon, your skin runs cold. He’s bleeding in his right hand, fist balled so tight he shakes as he breaks skin and it runs down to evaporate before it hits the ground. His lyre rests in his left but it's different; the strings, once a vibrant glow of green, run a deep dark red almost the same color as the blood on his skin.

“Vent-” you begin to call out but the words are cut off by the heavy shout before you. You turn your neck quickly to see the Mitachurl with its ax raised high, about to strike. When had it gotten so close? You brace yourself ready to hold off the blunt force as best you can, turning again to shout for Venti to move.

But he strums his first note.

This sound is far different then what you’re used to. What was once a gentle, harmonic strumming of a lyre blessed in the winds, now feels dissonant. The sound is a deep vibration one that could only be described when hitting the wrong keys at the end of a piano in quick concession. A sound you feel breach into the roots of your lungs and pry out all the air you have stored.

You can’t breathe.

The sword falls from your hands as you frantically clutch your chest. Your legs wobble and your head is hammering, the need to breath is overwhelming but with every harsh breath you take in it all seems to be sucked out.

“Barbat-”

“You want a god. I’ll show you god.”

Barbatos strums his second note. 

This sound has a higher pitch, the noise most quickly catches you as that of a violin when you bring it’s bow down with a little too much pressure against the wrong chord. There’s a force to this note, one you must assume was the same the guy at the bar felt as you are shoved into the wagon. The force of the blow leaves you more winded then you were before. All your strength feels drained from your body and your knees give out. There is no time to recover though…

Not when Lord Barbatos pulls at his third and final string.

You don’t register this one, the ringing in your ears and overall loss of oxygen leaving you closer and closer to the brink of unconsciousness. Even so you watch him toy with the string. The wind has picked up and now you notice the Mitachurl raised in the air, it struggles with its head thrashing about. Venti turns to you, a smile crazed and eyes dim.

Then he lets the string go.

It's hard to watch. Wind isn’t a visible thing, but in this very moment you pinpoint just where the breeze shifts and changes as it tears through the beast limb from limb. Arms and legs twist and bend, its chest constricts slowly and its head rotates like an owl with a chorus of loud cracks of bones; if it wasn’t for how close you feel to the brink of death yourself you know the sounds of the snapping and screams would have killed you alone. Barbatos stares still. 

It doesn’t last long, the sheer horror of it all ends quickly as the Mitachurl is compressed into the origin of the tornado it's caught in until it blows in a rain of blood. The loss of oxygen finally gets to you as your eyes drift but not before seeing the finale of your oh so mighty deity. 

He stands unmoving as the blood pours down in a shower along his face, eyes now closed, “disappointed in your god now?”

THE GEO ARCHON Rex Lapis | wc. 1.6k+

Six-thousand years ago, the start of the Archon War.

A long and painful four-thousand years of battle over a couple seats at the throne that was already predetermined. Four-thousand years wasted away killing friends and family and loved ones for power they themselves now wish to throw away. A lot of gods didn’t want to be a part of this…holy massacre - or whatever these scholars wish to paint it as - and you were one of them. You were given many names for your time: Theia, Anthos, Gia. The only thing that remains certain within all books of history is your ability to create elemental stones.

Ascension silver, within today’s terms, was a skill none could manage; for being a god who could bond to a multitude of elements at once was beyond even the original seven of Celestia. The gems you produced offered various needs opposed to the power of visions; pyro silver for warmth, hydro silver to be shattered and give rain, geo crystals for fortitude in times of terrible weather, dendro crystals to fertilize plants, cryo silver to cool in the warmer weathers and electro silver to strengthen weapons for combat. It all could be found in the midst of your domain.

Your domain resided in the Huaguang Stone Forest, within the underbelly of Mt. Aocang. It was just a large hollowed cave filled with crystals and home to a small community of humans. They traded off the crystals you produced, for food and supplies, holding festivals and village gatherings under your name. When they needed protection, your crystal walls provided and the Vishaps, organic creatures of your creation, helped protect those from outside.

All was good, all was at peace. 

Until six-thousand years ago, the start of the Archon War.

Tremors grew in both number and extremity over time. Your people starved and scared as trade drew to a halt and more and more outsiders flocked for your domain for protection. The energy of fellow gods and people you once thought would grow old together die out like the stars one by one. However, within your domain all was good, all was at peace, all was protected.

Or so you thought until you met Rex Lapis, the self proclaimed God of Geo, four-thousand years ago during the Archon War.

He requests your assistance, he speaks of monsters and demons emerging from the earth of Guili Plains and that without you they would consume the earth and all within it. You were hesitant to believe him, not when he stormed in covered in the blood of gods and an army of yaksha armed tooth and nail to your fortress of peace. When you speak of the wellbeing of your people he promises to ensure their safety with a few of his yaksha, but when you question him further its General Musatas who warns you to watch your tongue when speaking to one of the chosen seven. Thinking back about it now that should have been the first sign of danger; putting your trust in a god fighting to be apart of the corrupt Celestia. But your people needed more help than what you could provide alone, and you still young and naive wanted to believe that the word of the god of gods was absolute.

So you leave and for a thousand years you fight for a cause you thought to be pointless. You watch gods die, your crystal shields only doing so much in the onslaught of war. Whenever you came close to being wounded it was Morax who protected you from harm time and time again. Taking the blunt force of claws and the heavy pummeling from Osial, all to keep you from harm's way. You had thought it was admirable…if only that same persistence was there for Guizhong.

When she perished on the battlefield you all were pushed back. In a last stand against the enemy you took hold at Mt. Tianheng, and it was there we prospered. Rex Lapis’ sheer power and battle strategy in command of the adeptus and five general yaksha pushed through for the victory and settlement of Liyue. It was then the god of contracts requested a binding: all remaining adeptus would stand to protect Liyue if danger ever stirred once again.

And once again you were a fool to trust the words of the god of gods. 

For the others were allowed to roam as they pleased until called upon and you were to remain within Liyue Harbor forever at the side of your god Rex Lapis. He claimed it was for protection, your powers being the strongest he’s seen for a lifetime, however you could only recall being of no help to protect the ones you hold dear on the battle field. 

You fight, complain and wrestle against his iron grip but the contract holds still. As the Harbor prospered and grew over the years, it left you with the stronger desire to see your people once again. A request with the yaksha would fall on deaf ears as they were still to handle the aftermath within the Plains, but when talk of corruption and madness spread among the masses you had feared the worst. Against your better judgment you left, you thought the wellbeing of your people is more important than the loyalty you have in some god.

When you return to the Stone Forest, you’re enveloped with a sense of home. You spot Cloud Retainer at the top of the peak, but she is gone before you can offer a wave. When you finally reach the door to your domain your heart drops. The Geovishaps who stand guard are nowhere to be found and the energy of your barrier left so long ago has run dry. Even with the clear signs, you still push forward and believe in the word of Morax.

Still so young and naive.

The domain is bathed in dried blood. There are bodies upon bodies of your people scattered along the floor, their blood painted over your crystals and the bodies of yakshas having killed everyone else looked to have turned against each other. Tears of pure silver fall from your eyes as you make way through your temple, a last ditch effort for hope of any survival…for anything.

Everything lays in shambles - crystal decoration of your own design shattered across the floor, Vishaps of all ages lifeless and unmoving just like the images of the gods all those years ago. What breaks you is what sits at your throne: the remaining villagers all curled together encased in a crystal prison. It was a skill you taught your strongest Vishaps just before your departure, never considering that they would need to use it you had no way of reversing its effects. You fall into a sob, pillars of crystals sprouting just where your tears meet the bloody ground. All hope is lost from you until you feel the looming presence of Rex Lapis.

At first, you're overjoyed.

He could somehow fix this. Given his ability to cleanse gods and shape islands with minimal effort, this could be done by the snap of a finger. You stand with some difficulty, the gems having crystalized at the bottom hem of your garments almost keeping you weighted to the floor as a warning. You pay no mind.

Then, all at once, you’re afraid.

When you reach him, smiling and happy for once to be in his presence, the weight around you feels heavy. The glare of Rex Lapis is stone cold, gold irises like slits of the dragon you witnessed decapitate so many of your old friends. The general Alatus to his left stands armed and ready, and to his right Cloud Retainer - one normally so proud and boastful, hangs her head low behind the god before her. 

“You left.” His voice is calm, a stark contrast to the way he is looking at you. Glaring at you like the enemy. “Well yes.” You begin, a stutter to your voice, “the war has long since reached its close…and with n-no more danger I thought it would be alright to-”

“Danger is always upon us. You went against our agreement.” There's a bass in his voice that rocks a tremor through your body as well as the cave you reside in, its strength leaves Alatus to stumble his footing and Cloud Retainer to dip her gaze that much lower. You, however press on, “I had no plans to be gone long a-and with no word from my home I feared the worst. So I had to-”

His hand envelops your throat in an instant. Rough, scaled fingers grip tightly around you and when you make an effort to speak he squeezes harder. “You had to remain within the harbor. We had an agreement. You swore an oath to me, an oath that was never to be broken.” Frantic fingers grip at his hand, you try to pry him off of you but your body feels like it's being pulled by an unknown force that leaves you weak and him unmoving. He watches you struggle, and somehow in those eyes you see him pleased with the way you whither in his grasp.

“Should I take care of them, Master?” General Alatus’ mask envelopes his face, karmic energy flowing from his body. You shutter as his blade is brought to your sides. Rex Lapis turns his head swiftly, the first he’s looked away from you since he’s got here, and glares harder. In seconds the general is brought to the floor in a shout of pain. In the position he kneels, Alatus clutches the floor in a grip so tight you’d think he was trying to push against the heavy pull of the world’s gravity. “You will hold your tongue until I see fit for your suggestions, General.”

Alatus nods as best he can, body struggling just as much as yours to try and fight against the power of the god of geo. The glow of his scales dims, and the yaksha begins to breathe as he stands on wobbly legs. It is then the archon drops you. You swallow oxygen in desperately and cough it back out heavily as you gaze up at the man before you. When he reaches for you again, you scurry away but not far enough. This time he grasps your arm dragging you away breathless and reaching for what’s left of your home.

He scoffs at your sorry state, “your offense to me isn’t great, but you still will be punished for your disobedience.” You’re helpless to it all, too weak to challenge one of the chosen seven of Celestia. He snaps his fingers and just like all those years ago he takes you from your home.

Back then it was for a cause, an unspoken oath you had no idea would chain you to a man you don’t believe in; but now it's as a prisoner, a powerless god who watches their domain crumble right before your eyes.

THE ELECTRO ARCHON Raiden Shogun | wc. 1.1k+

“Leave us.”

For a moment, you think she sounds disappointed. The guards release you from your binds and you're quick to snatch your wrists away to rub the tender skin. They give stiff bows and with stiff, sharp pointed turns make way for the doors of the Shogunate’s chambers. When they leave the room, Baal and the kitsune Saiguu emerge from the panels behind the back of the throne. Baal is as calm as ever; she sits eyes closed, knees folded below her and her wagasa twirling in her slender fingers as if pondering something. Saiguu seems more openly displeased; her tail rests rigid behind her when she sits beside her own Shogun, she looks concerned as she scans your body and you notice she has left her cigarette holder behind.

You are in real trouble now.

Beelzebul had descended her throne before the guards even walked through the door. She paces in between you and her sister, her strides come to match the tempo of the thunder that increases in volume over the heavy rain from the outside world. When a particularly loud clash resonates through the skies, Baal stops her twirling. “Ei, you’re beginning to cause a stir amongst the people.”

She stops her pacing and so too does the thunder if only for a little. Beelzebul looks you over and it seems that fans her flame even more when her eyes rack over your body. Her gaze doesn’t match that of Saiguu’s though. “You’re wounded.” She finally speaks, it's more at you than to you. The wound is nothing serious, a small scratch to the arm that has left your garments a little bloody but it's really nothing that won't heal by the morning. She moves quickly for bandages, trying and failing to distract herself from imploding, but when she gets close with the adhesive you dodge around her touch.

The first clash of lightning strikes the seas.

Beelzebul sighs and stands, you watch the bandage begin to buzz and spark in her grasp. “Bleed out for all I care.” In an instant, the cloth blows and dissolves in a small show of flames. You flinch.

“Ei-” Baal begins again, her hair glows at the tips and you know she is fighting to calm the storm of emotion that continues to rage outside.

“What did you hope to gain by seeing her again at such a time? We are in the middle of a war of gods and you see it fit to chase a traitor.” 

“Chiyo is no traitor!” You don’t mean to yell, but the way she spits the word ‘traitor’ has your blood boiling. Baal makes no effort to calm you down. “She had been trapped inside the belly of that beast for so long; months fighting her way from the inside out. That could turn anyone to madness…and when she finally emerges scared and confused you try to kill her.”

“She’s become crazed with madness. Something in that beast left with her and a blight like that can’t be cleansed. Saiguu knew the moment she saw her.” You break your gaze to look at the goddess.

Saiguu nods at you even without looking your way, “Not even a cleansing from the Sacred Sakura would have helped. Even being that close I could tell that blight ran deeper than her soul. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head vigorously. There had to be something you could do, even if that meant caging her within the temple for an eternity anything would have been better than more death. “There was something we could have done. I know it. Rukkhadevata would know something; she knows everything. Let me go to Sumera and-”

A dry chuckle bursts from Beelzebul, “It seems you might have been tainted by whatever she had. If you think you are in the right to start making requests now I can assure you it won’t happen. Have you forgotten the current situation: we are at war, not just us but all the gods. You were only lucky enough to get to the forests before I had to save you from that beast.” The air around you feels static. The hairs on your body raise and the wound on your arm feels like it’s being pinched every so often. “Why are you so adamant on leaving my protection?”

“Protection?! Your protection! You keep me imprisoned. I cannot see anyone but who you allow me too. I am followed constantly and whenever I so much as breathe in the direction of the outside world I’m dragged away. You keep me here shielded like some precious doll while everyone else fights.” Baal’s gaze meets yours behind her sister almost there to push you on. “I am a soldier to this nation before anything else and would rather take my chance out there than to live knowing I sat sheltered and protected like a coward with you here.”

Ei’s stunned. A storm ripples through her gaze and for a second you think those purple hues of clouds show shines of rain. 

Instead lightning clashes before you.

The blunt end of her blade is brought to the heart of your chest in a flash. The feeling of its energy pulsing so close makes the tales of its power in battle sound underplaying, stray bolts of lightning bounce off it and reach in to rub under your clothed skin. You jolt. Saiguu makes an effort to stand but Makato raises her hand to halt her advance.

“If you wish to die so eagerly, I will strike you down here myself.”

It's clear she means it; having already slain and severely injured two of her closest friends there would be no hesitation if you had to be next. Makoto finally decides it's time to intervene, her fingers curl along her sister’s shoulder and although Ei doesn’t break away the energy pressing into your chest does decline in pressure if only for a second. “Pain doesn’t last an eternity.”

They don’t even look at each other when she speaks, she just holds her there. You think it has to be something only they could feel as twin gods and hope Makoto wins the internal battle. The sword dissolves in her grasp and you let go of the breath you had thought to be your last. “You're both hurting and you might fight it but it's for the same reason. Chiyo was dear to all of us, so were Sasayori and the others but we cannot let their deaths bring about our own. What would they have fought for? Have died for?” Ei brushes the hand from her shoulder and walks towards the balcony in long strides. 

Makoto does nothing to stop her, choosing it best to let her storm settle on its own then to try and guide its course. She does turn to you, pleading you to understand — her sister only cares for the best of you. You don’t respond, staying glued to the floor while your mind tries to catch up to your heart. Ei pushes into the storm outside that leaves the doors rattling and a chill to the room. Tearing your gaze from the ground you look to your god, she now stands on the ledge head turned up towards the heavy rainfall. She looks almost strangely content with the chaos outside, you could still make out the rotting corpse of the great serpent in the distance. There is a pain bubbling from your gut as your heart still hammers in your chest. Is this the weight you must bear under the care of a god?

THE DENDRO ARHCON Lesser Lord Kusanali | wc. 1.5k+

“Tell me: what do you think shapes a dream?”

You should have known something was wrong the moment Nahida had requested to see you personally. This wouldn’t be the first time one of the archons has requested something like this from you, however Nahida’s tone of voice somehow puts you on edge. The way it echoes in the hollow room she had led you in racks a chill down your spine.

“A dream is made solely by your emotions.” You recall this from your psychology class, the professor was so invested in the topic it was kinda hard to forget. “Whatever fuels that of your wishes, memories and abstract thoughts all tie into what can shape a dream when you fall asleep.” You’ve recited that line so many times before that final exam and still remember being so pissed it was never even mentioned within the test. “However, the worries that rest in the back of your mind might also shift the course of a dream as well.”

“Hmm. I had never thought of it that way.” Nahida curls her hand under her chin thinking, “would that be the same case for a nightmare?” 

“I would assume so…yes.” There is a piece you’re missing in the puzzle of questions. Her curiosity is hiding something else, something that you can’t picture right out but you do feel it with every passing second. “But why would someone try to sleep with negative emotions moving through their head?”

If it weren’t for the fact that you knew this is a virtual world you would have been fooled to see Nahida as the child that she is. Her small frame looks up at you expectantly; being the only person in her world to ever know more than that of her vast case of knowledge, she treats you much more like a new toy to play around with than as the high god everyone else believes you to be. 

That in and of itself is both a blessing and a curse.

“Sometimes it can’t be helped.” You try to not think about it but you tell yourself this everyday now. “It’s something we can’t fight…the negative emotions, they are always with us because we never know what the future will hold.” 

“It's all a random chance of time. One day, you could find yourself on the receiving end of a terrible storm, you could walk straight into dog poop with brand new shoes or you could even walk into a meeting with all your clothes inside out…One day you could lose a loved one, you could walk into a store and see your house in flames on the news, you could even-”

“Be trapped with no way home.” Your eyes widen. Nahida’s head is tilted ever so slightly, eyes squinted and you realize she is studying your reaction, “y-yeah you could.”

“Fascinating.”

You don’t even realize it but your voice waivers, “What is?”

Nahida looks away from you to her holo-screen behind her. With delicate fingers she swipes through files and documents you can’t catch sight of until her little fingers stop on one. You can make out the screen and it looks like a video. She taps it.

A screen materializes before you and the video plays. Image looks like the holding cells of the Knights of Favonius headquarters, but the person within the cell looks like no character you have seen in game at all. It isn’t like you remember every npc within this world, however, each character has similar features that make it obvious in telling who is who. Could this be a new character? There is no knowledge of them in recent patch notes.

Nahida’s voice startles you. 

“Oh…you must be curious? This is user 804897112. Although the name he chose at the start was Starlord, his real name is Chris.”

What?

“It took him four weeks before he slipped up. They hadn’t noticed him as the Creator of that server yet but when he went around sprouting drunk nonsense about the Archon War at Angel Share things took a turn.” You haven’t been watching the screen, too caught up on understanding what Nahida had just said but the scream catches you off guard.

That person. That real life person, Chris, is chained and on his knees before Jean, Rosaria, Kaeya, Diluc and Venti. Kaeya’s sword is jabbed into Chris’ shoulder, Rosaria looks to be trying to get him to cough up any information he knows but you can’t hear anything. Did Nahida only want you to hear that screams? There is a troubled look on Jean’s face like she’s reluctant to continue this, but Venti says something that rouses everyone in the room and pales Chris’ skin. He’s crying now, snotty and nasty as Diluc beelines to him with his heavy blade.

Diluc’s greatsword raises and you gasped in horror as its brought down on Chris’ head. Out of sheer fear you clutch your own neck. Blood seeps out in a sparkle of gold and they all stand as stunned as you, the poor boy’s head tumbling over in the pool of it blood. The video ends there.

It’s hard to breathe and you're given no time to recover yourself as another plays. “This is user 119876532, Diana. She asked questions about Scaramouche’s true origins to the Shogunate. Knowledge no one should possess and again before the establishment of her identity as Creator.” This one carries no build and is from a farther angle atop a tree, like from the perch in the eyes of a bird, but it's all so vividly clear. The girl is tied to her knees before the shogun, spilling out words too quickly for you read and understand. There is no need to though, Ei is as calm as ever. She listen to Diana’s rambling, and for a second you think she might believe whatever she’s saying. Five seconds later, you watch Diana die in the same flash of lightning as La Signora.

You can’t stand now, legs given out in the horror of it all. The videos continue like this until you can’t bear to look at the screen anymore.

User 908765342 crushed by meteorite hurled by Zhongli. User 743828950 — Sam, found dismembered by a pack of hilichurls. Robert gets mauled by a geovishap. Lee can’t take it anymore and…

“Why?” The tears fall from your eyes in heavy waves. “Why show me all this? Why tell me about all these people? I don’t-”

It all connects in seconds: they found out about you.

You move to stand hurriedly and make a beeline for the exit but your feet stay planted to the floor with the sight before you. The Doctor stands grinning from ear to ear. He clasps his hands together with a sigh of glee. “You ask why and it’s simple: you survived.”

He’s on you in an instant, tightly holding your wrists in his hands and preventing your escape no matter how hard you thrash. He breathes into your neck harshly and you sob. He whispers breathlessly into your ear how he has never been this fascinated, this drawn to a specimen before and promises to be gentle in your dissection. Nahida watches you with wide interested eyes as you struggle in hope of saving yourself. You cry out to them, to your guards, to Lumine or Dehya or Thoma. To anyone who would hear you even though no one can. But still…

You scream.

Cyno breaks down your door, his gaze looking over the room hastily to find the culprit to dare stir the peaceful slumber of the Creator.

It was a dream? It was a dream and yet your wrists burn, the images of all those people looked so real.

Was this a sign? Would that happen to you if any of them ever found out? Have they already started to suspect something? What if you don’t ever get out of here? What if-

“Your grace?” Cyno’s hand brings you back to reality, hard. His fingers feel almost frozen over against the skin of shoulder and you flinch away in such a haste it brings crease to his brows. You almost question why he runs so cold but with him looking at you with so much concern you don’t think it's him that is the problem. “Do I need to go get Tighnari? I will only be a couple hours but I could stop by our Archons domain just so-”

“No!” Your voice is filled with fright, but it’s obvious that the sheer volume of your scream is what stuns him the most. You can feel the sweat run down your temple and the pound of your heart so aggressively in your ears. It takes you far too long to compose yourself but you are grateful that Cyno listens and just stands by your side.

“There is no need for all of that. I’m just a little shaken.” He doesn’t seem to take your word for it but when you explain that it was only a dream and not some illness that caused this he is partially relieved. “The doctor won’t be needed for this and it isn’t like this is something of his expertise.” 

Cyno offers a quick nod before he settles in a chair at your desk. He shuffles closer to your bedside with a cross to his arms and a tense raise of his shoulders. You can’t blame him for staying alert; dreams are a new phenomenon within Sumeru and with the few months you have known him, you know Cyno doesn’t do well with handling business he cannot comprehend for himself.

It takes too long for you to finally get calm within the safety of your own bed, but it does help that Cyno — as loyal to you as he once was to the akademiya — stays by your side the whole night. 

It gets hard trying to keep your mind from blurring the line between your life outside and the one within this game. Watching Cyno sleep next to you, the steady rise and fall of his chest is far too detailed for your sensitive mind to keep considering these people aren’t real people. A Sumeru rose, a gift handed to you by a child of the city, loses a petal and you watch the leaf fall then blow in a spark of pixels. You’ve been here too long. 

You need to get out . . . and soon.

THE EVERLASTING GOD OF ARCANE WISDOM : Scaramouche | wc. 1.2k+

You should have known this could have been another one of the Doctor’s tricks.

You are privy to his experiments and know just about everything there is to know about his latest desires as a man of knowledge…but it seems you have gotten too relaxed within his presence to suspect that you were the next pawn to be sacrificed within this long orchestrated game.

Being left to go through with the final reports on the Balladeer’s status without his supervision should have been the first and only sign needed to show you something else was at play here. The Doctor was always to see everything himself, deeming everyone else — even you — inferior to his intellect and prone to time consuming slip ups. Why you would ever trust an order like this for its face value you will never know. But now you can tell it was a mistake.

The laboratory has been cleared on the orders of the Doctor, and yet you feel like you have been being watched ever since you have entered the building.

Since you entered Sumeru for the matter.

Pushing away the chills, you check the sixth harbinger’s vitals. Everything looks to be in order but that is to be as expected; the Doctor had said this could be close to being his greatest creation and that would obviously show in his work. You hum triumphantly and quickly move on to the next task. The body of the Prodigal is kept in a separate room, with how massive the final product came to be it was bound to happen. It is still mesmerizing to know how much raw power is stored within a gnosis on its own. Crazy how an item so small is able to create mass destruction in the world.

Everything seems in perfect shape when you finally reach the test sight. The distant hum of the overhanging lights do little to add any glory to the giant machine before you. Even without eyes its looming figure looks down upon you as if it can tell the significant power difference between you two. Dottore had told you it was nonsense; the Balladeer would be in a state of hypostasis until his body finally converges with the power of the electro gnosis. He couldn’t possibly be able to tell a slime from a hilichurl let alone know when anyone enters the room. 

You find it — much like everything else that comes with interacting with the Doctor —  demeaning. He undermines everyone and if it weren’t for his rank you'd have thought he was just too full of himself. His genius could be on a par with the dendro archon but that's something you’ll never admit even to the nicest of his segments. 

Data shows that Scaramouche is still stable. The gnosis too somehow remains with a constant flow of energy as it diverts power to the main systems. It still eludes you how someone like Scaramouche can handle power as strong as this for as long as he has. Though you do not know the criteria of the ranking amongst harbingers, his order in the hierarchy holds true.

So caught up in your own thoughts you hadn’t even noticed how close you had gotten to the body. If that presence was intimidating at a distance it pales in comparison to being up close. It towers above like the clock-house in Snezhnaya, arms and hands long and big enough to crush you whole. You shake your head from the thought. 

Your hand reaches to touch the machine. The metal is cold to the touch but there is a sensation of static that travels along your arm the longer you linger there. By the time you move your hand away ready to depart to report back to Dottore, a sudden shock sparks from your hand. You pull it back with a wince. This must be an unforeseen side effect to the gnosis. 

All at once your head throbs with white noise. It starts off faint but then rises to ring above all else. At first you believe it to be a faulty pipeline and look around for any signs of damage but yet again you see the perfectly unharmed lab. The sound is overwhelming and you can feel something pressing into the back of your mind. Memories not of your own flash before your eyes.

The sensations are too much to bear and you collapse when it's all too much at once. The moment you come too it feels different. The buzzing in your arm has spread throughout your body, and the noise that filled your mind is now gone, replaced by knowledge that leaves you weighted to the ground trying to understand it all.

The Balladeer…Scaramouche is…

“Was a puppet.” The voice is familiar and you cannot believe that its real. “A puppet that now wields a greater power than that of the god who chose to abandon him all those years ago.” He has ascended and so soon. Dottore’s notes were foolproof, everything down to the last decimal was precise so how could his hypothesis be false?

Scaramouche offers a snarl, and it's only now that you can register that he is inside your head with his reply, “because Dottore is a buffoon. He will always underestimate someone who he believes he could outsmart at any game, under any circumstance and do so without question. It’s that pride that will be his undoing in due time.” He walks around you, there are long pauses between every sentence and he speaks as if you will be overwhelmed by him just looking in your direction. You don’t know why you feel so grateful for it.

“Enough about him though.” He stops to kneel down to where you lay on the ground. His hand ever so delicately lifts your chin to meet his gaze and he gives you opportunity to look away. You don’t. “Let me see into you.”

Words filter through your head without him even needing to open his mouth. You’ve been connected to him by the soul, a pact between your compatible life force and his new godly abilities that were enforced the moment you touched him through the machine. You’ve been chosen as his first and whatever that entitles you don’t know but you do feel the tears roll down your eyes. Your mind cannot decipher if they are tears of joy or resentment of this new god.

Why are you calling him that?

Scaramouche wipes them away with a wicked smile. “No need for sorrow my chosen. For as your new god I will craft a world for you that leaves no room for those emotions to ever cross your features again. The Everlasting God of Arcane Wisdom will pave a way for your salvation and my glory to rise. So long as you put your faith in me and me alone.”

His hands fall from your face as he stands, but they still remain outstretched to you. The invitation hangs in the air and yet his smile never waivers like he knows what you will choose him over anything else. Like you will choose him over life itself. 

And for a moment you think you will.

a/n: this is very dark of me and really shouldn’t be my comeback post but rewatching nahida’s introduction really had me in the mood to bring our archons back into the light. also yes i am formally back to writing so do expect more posts soon to come.

p/s: furina version will be up as soon as i catch up enough with her character.

#genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #venti x reader #zhongli x reader #raiden shogun x reader #nahida x reader #scaramouche x reader #[ gem’s timestamps — ⌚️ ] #again ​sorry this is so dark but i just had to get this off my chest #gonna be thinking about prodigal scara so much now #also welcome back me

[dontexpectmuch]

hi!! firstly i just wanna let u know how much i love ur posts, you’re very talented n i enjoy ur work a lot !! id like to req a post about how jude would be when taking care of his s/o when they’re ill (i’m sick rn and its all ive been able to think about today lol) tysm in advance !! take care <3

you tiptoed quietly out of your room, trying your best to avoid drawing any attention to your movements. it felt like walking in a lion’s den, any noise and you’d immediately be noticed.

your eyelids felt heavy, your throat was itchy and your nose was stuffed, but you really wanted to make yourself some tea with honey and maybe grab some snacks. you were supposed to rest, drinking loads of water and staying in bed, but you really wanted to finish your essay, feeling restless at the thought of the deadline nearing.

“what are you doing?” a stern voice appeared from behind you, your plan of staying unnoticed going down the drain.

halting your movements, you turn around with a sheepish smile on your tired face, looking at your boyfriend whose body leaned against the kitchen doors frame. “hey, jude.” you greet him, eyes never leaving his face as he steps closer to you, arms on each side of your body, kind of caging you between the kitchen counter and his body.

“so?” he questioned again, tilting his head. his gaze was quite intense, you note, feeling nervous at his closeness.

“i wanted to drink some tea?” your answer sounded more like a question, fidgeting with your fingers and lowering your gaze to avoid his.

jude clears his throat, leaning back and crossing his arms infront of his chest, his eyebrows were drawn together, “babe!” he begins, voice laced with frustration, “i told you to tell me! you gotta rest, y’know.”

“but, jude, c’mon i’m bored! laying all day in bed with nothing to do exhausts me more than working.” you argue back, hands dancing around the air as if to highlight your point better.

“mum told me you need to rest.” jude reasons, grabbing your shoulders to lead you back to your bedroom, hands slightly massaging your tense muscles while he was at it. “i’ll get you your tea, babe.”

rolling your eyes, you sit down on your bed and look up at your boyfriend. he seemed pretty serious about his job as your caretaker, going as far as to ask his mum about how to take care of you, looking up recipes for all different kinds of soups and refusing to let you do any work, insisting that you should be resting as much as you could.

“shouldn’t you be at training?” you ask, leaning back on your hands, watching as jude lits up some candles that were in your room, mumbling something about setting the mood right.

“told them that there’s an emergency.” he replied, smiling at you. “can’t let my baby be all alone at time like this.” he comes up to you again, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your forehead.

“jude, that’s too much! you can’t skip practice because of this.” you scold him, face showing your disapproval clearly, “‘ts not even serious, just a mild cold.” shaking your head, you get up and walk to your desk to grab your laptop.

jude watches you, eyes narrowed, as you walk back to your bed and lean your back against your many pillows. “what are you doing?”

“working on my essay.” you shrugged. if you can’t do anything at all, you might just finish that annoying essay.

“nah, put that back, babe.” jude moves to take your laptop away, but you act fast and turn your back facing him, shielding your laptop from his hands.

“jude, please.” you plead, sighing. jude stemmed his hands on his hips, looking at you before he also sighed.

“fine, but you’re not leavin’ this room, ‘m bein’ serious.” he comes to a decision, watching you as you happily nod.

as you continued your work, jude went back to the kitchen to make you some tea and get you your snacks, talking to his mum on the phone at the same time to complain about your behavior, hoping she’d back his point up, to no avail, though, as she also believes that jude is slightly exaggerating.

you giggled at the sight of jude concentrating on bringing your tea, beverage filled up to the brim. he looked really cute and made you feel grateful for his presence and concern for your well-being.

“you’d make a good house-husband, you know?” you point out as he cleans up your desk.

“oh, shut up.”

———————————

i like y’all or wtv 🙄

#football one shot #football x reader #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #x reader #jude bellingham fluff #football

[thecapricunt1616]

The Bear & His Honey Chapter 7 -

Inspo: Lyrics - False God (TS) ; “We might just get away with it, religions in your lips, even if it’s a False God - We’d still worship.”  ***18+ ONLY FIC - NO MINORS ALLOWED*** Summary: Winnie readys her apartment to hang out with Carm for the first time. She pulls out all the stops, fresh sheets, a massage candle, wine. Things get hot and heavy in the bedroom, as well as the shower. Carmen experiences being taken care of for the very first time. Late-night pizza ensues.  W/C: 7,894 Posted Date: 02/18/2024 A/N: Hellooo! Ugh ok so I’m starting this on the weekend because I can NOT bring myself to write hard porn at work LMAO so that should tell you something about how this chapter is going to be. I wish soo bad that I could stick a USB in my brain and download the scenes I create in my head when i’m falling asleep bc they’re soooo juicyyyy ugh. I hope you all like this!! I don’t think at first with a partner Carm would be a confident dom because he hasn’t had much time for that kind of play- but with the right kind of partner she would reel the dominance out of him which I hope I displayed that here!!  Warnings for BTC: Drinking, Swearing, Smut (p in v, face sitting, oral (m&f giving&recieving), shower sex, cum play (kinda)), spanking, Fluff 

︵‿︵‿୨♡ 𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙊𝙪𝙩 𝙈𝙮 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚！ ♡୧‿︵‿︵

→ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞!

₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽

Winnie’s P.O.V. - 

I unlocked the door to my apartment quickly, knowing I wanted to do multiple things before Carm arrived. “Hey baby” I coo to Persephone who was waiting by the door. She meows at me repeatedly as if she's going ‘Mom! Where did you go?! Why do you keep leaving me!! What happened to reading after work?!’ Whilst I took my phone out of my purse and quickly sent Carm a text containing my floor and apartment number.

“I knowww, I know!” I told her as I unbuckled my heels and slipped them off, scooping them up and heading to my room. Persephone makes quick work of weaving in between my legs as I walk causing me to giggle. “What! You already ate Miss!” I told her and dumped my shoes off in my closet, taking off my simple studded pearl earrings and dumping them into my Hello Kitty jewelry dish sitting atop my dresser.

Sephy jumped up onto the bed, watching as I untied my hair bow and I walked over, waving it around in front of her, to which she rolled on her back attacking it with her feet causing me to giggle. “Missy! I have work to do! We have a guest coming in a few hours! It’s Carmen! Oh my god, I haven’t had a boy over in so long!” I giggled like a schoolgirl, so giddy this was happening. I dropped the ribbon on her belly for her to play with and went off to the kitchen, taking out a clear pink wine glass from my cabinet and setting it down on the counter before uncorking a bottle of red wine from the fridge and pouring myself a big glass.

I put the wine back in its spot, and took a big sip, going and setting it in the bathroom for myself before heading back into the bedroom where Persephone was still fighting with my ribbon atop my bed. “C’mon,” I grunt playfully as I pick her up causing her to meow in annoyance. “Let’s go fluff-a-butt, I need fresh sheets,” I told her and put her down gently on the couch before heading to the linen closet grabbing a fresh pair of lavender jersey sheets, and heading back to the bedroom. 

I made quick work of undressing my bed and redressing it. Before I put the duvet back on, I got my ‘Fairy Dust’ from lush that smelt like honeysuckle, and gently sprinkled it over the sheets. This way, when Carmen is in the sun after he leaves my bed- he will glow, and any girl with a mind will know that he has one already. It was not at all noticeable inside, only in direct sunlight or a flashlight was directly over it, so he wouldn’t ever know my territorial tricks. 

I also sprayed some honey lavender relaxing bed mist before putting on the duvet and making sure I got a few sprays on there as well. I rearranged my many throw pillows and a glorious thought hits my brain- that massage oil candle I haven’t used. I giggled to myself as I practically bounced over to my closet, rummaging through one of my many doom boxes before I found it. “Yes!” I whisper to myself and put all the other contents back away in the closet, shutting the door.

I lit the candle on my nightstand, knowing it would need an hour or so to burn until there was enough oil for a decent massage, and checked the time, perfect, still just over an hour until he was supposed to be here. I undressed quickly and went to my bathroom taking off my makeup and putting my hair up into a messy knot to shower. I down the rest of my wine before jumping into the steaming water, scrubbing down my body, and grabbing my razor. Most of the shower was spent shaving myself to maximum softness, and then exfoliating myself until I was essentially a new human when I got out. 

I dried off quickly, dumping my dirty clothes in my hamper as well as my towel before running into my bedroom and slipping on a pair of black cheeky panties with little kiss marks patterned because a full-out lingerie set would seem desperate - right? I open my dresser draw, pulled out a ribbed light grey baby tank that I knew made my boobs look amazing without a bra on, and chucked it on my bed and then found some loose-fitting Hello Kitty printed pajama bottoms that I threw on the bed as well. 

₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽

I was on the couch, trying my best to read my book after my second glass of wine, when I heard a light knock at the door and Persephone sat up from her position next to me, confused as to who would be here at this hour. I feel my heart start to thump in my chest, sitting up and putting my book down I got up, shuffling over to the door in my pink bear paw slippers. I look through the peephole and see Carm leaned against the wall and smiled, unlocking and opening the door quickly. 

“Hey you!” I said and he smiled upon seeing me, his hair still slightly damp from his shower. “Hey” he said and stepped forward, I wrap my arms around him and give him a passionate kiss, gently playing with his damp girls between my fingers and pulling him inside, shutting the door with my foot and leaning against the door as he pressed me against it, tugging lightly at the hair. 

He pulls away and kisses from my chin down my neck, around my collar bones and biting gently causing me to giggle “Carmen!” I gasp a bit at the sensation as he settles his nose in the hill of my breasts and inhales deeply. “I’m sorry” he mumbles in to my skin and I smack his shoulder playfully. “What, are you a dog?” I asked jokingly and he chuckled “you just smell sooo fucking good I’ve been wanting to do that ‘m sorry” he kissed up my neck and gently bites down and I tugged my lip between my teeth, gently tugging at his hair to pull him away. 

“You’re gonna get the party started too fast c’mon mister, to the bedroom” I said and there’s a soft meow and he looks down as Persephone greets him, rubbing up against his leg and curling her tail around it. “Ohh” he whispered his eyes lighting up. He immediately crouches down to pet her and she rolls on her back for him displaying her big belly.  

“Oh wow” he said happily “she’s so sweet!” He said excitedly and pet her gently. I smiled “how’d I know you’d be a cat guy” I lean against the wall and watch as she leans up to bat at the string of his hoodie. He giggled a bit, dangling it in front of her and chuckling when she gets ahold of it nibbling gently. “C’mon stop tryna steal my friends Sephy” I joked and opened my bedroom door and he stood up, his eyebrows raising. 

“Wow…” he said and I splay my arms dramatically. “My humble abode!” I giggled “Hope you don’t mind music I always have it playing” I turned down my JBL speaker sitting on the nightstand. “Very…pink” he said and I giggle “mmhmm! I love it it’s my favorite color” he follows me in and Sephy jumps on to her hammock that was attached to my window. “D-do you have a kid?” He asked as his eyes raked over my shelf in the corner that was stuffed with different pink and other pastel Squishamellow toys.

I raise my eyebrow quizzically “no…do you have a kid?” I put my hand on my hip. “No! No. Absolutely not just…” he motioned with his hand and I laugh. “Oh my god you’re not one of those guys are you?” I asked and his cheeks go red. “Huh? N-no I- it’s cute I…I like it I’ve just never met..” he trails off. “Someone who..caters to their inner child?” I asked and walked over, petting Persephone. “The hell is that?” He asked, taking off his sneakers. 

“You’ve never heard of an inner child?” I asked scratching her chin. “No..” he said and I motion to my bed “you can sit” I said and he does so. “It’s your original self, before the world molded you. And damaged you. It helps me, to be in a room like this. Because I never got it when I was little, and it feels healing to give it to myself. I imagine the little girl that I was still lives in me, and she deserves the world, so I try giving it to her” I said and came and sat next to him. He nodded, “that’s…really cool..I’ve never uh- heard of it” he said and I smile a bit. 

“Want me to do your massage while we continue question for question?” I asked and he smiled softly. “Sure…uh so- so how should we..” he asked and I nod “so I think..well you told me you carry most of your stress in your back so I think I’ll start there and then you can better tell me what else hurts” I said and he nodded, sitting up a bit. “Are you..comfortable taking your shirt off?” I asked softly and his blush meets the bridge of his nose and he nods quickly “uh- y-yeah. Yeah.” He said and I got up “ok so.. just lay on your tummy and relax. Did you want some wine?” I asked he nods with a small smile. “Sure” 

I headed out to the kitchen, grabbing another pink wine glass and topping off mine as well and coming back to see him shirtless on the bed. I swallowed thickly, trying not to stare as I pad back “here you go” I said and handed him his glass, taking a big sip of my own. I’d already had 2 glasses, but I was still feeling a bit nervous. He took a sip and I looked at his chest, my eyes locked on the little triangle. “What’s it mean?” I asked and he looked down. “Oh, this?” He runs his finger over it. “Past, present and future.�� He shrugs and I nodded. 

“You have any tattoos?” He asked and I nodded “oh, shit! Yeah I forgot you haven’t seen them” I pull down my pants slightly where they were covering the angel and devil babies adorning my hipbones and hike up my shirt to just below my breasts, showing the sun and moon motif with the clouds. He raised his eyebrows, “wow…those are fuckin sick” he muttered, running his finger along the devil baby. “What does it mean?” He asked and I fixed my clothes again, “the meeting of light and dark and good and evil” I shrugged and he nods. 

“Well…yours are deep. I just got this cause I’m a fuckin chef” he holds up his hand, with the knife on it. “This is because I’m constantly fuckin fighting with my family’s shit” he shows me the one of the angels and the grim reaper with the liquor bottle. “What’s…SOU?” I took his hand, gently running my hand over his knuckles. “Oh it’s..” he chuckled a bit. “Sense of urgency..” he looked at me and my brows crinkle. 

“In a kitchen, everything is done SOU, with a sense of urgency. It just uh…reminds me to keep movin’ ya know? Always pick up the pace” he said and I nodded. “Here, lay.” I said and blow out the candle. “It may be a little bit hot, this is a massage candle- it’ll feel super hot at first but it’ll feel good after a second.” I explained and he snorted lightly. “I’ve been burned with oil, fire, boiling water. That’ll be nothing.” He said and I shook my head. “Such a dangerous career you have” I teased and knelt on the bed next to him as he got comfortable on his stomach. 

“Uh… it’ll be easiest if I like..straddle you, is that okay?” I asked “ye’. Yeah. That’s fine” he cleared his throat and tucked his arms under his chin resting his cheek on his forearm. “Ok..I’m gonna pour it now” I said and gently drip the wax on his back, to which he doesn’t even flinch. “Hmm” he hums. “That’s hot to you?” He asked and I giggle. “Ya’ know, I think you may be a psycho, that- or a masochist” I said and gently rub the oil over his back to be sure I had an easy time working the muscles. 

“Well I think it’s the psycho thing but if you’re into masochism then I’m more than happy to oblige” he said and I giggled. “Such a people pleasure” I sighed, “okay… so where did we leave on our game?” I asked and he hummed “I dunno…your hands are really soft” he said softly, his eyes fluttering shut. I found a sizable knot at the base of his neck and started working it, he whimpers softly beneath me bringing a frisky smirk to my lips “its ok..it hurts but it’ll feel good in a second, Jesus Carm, how are you walking around with this?” I said, using the knuckle of my thumb to work it out and he groaned softly. 

“Oh my god Winnie” he said softly. “Fuck…” he said as I drag my thumb in circles, completely releasing the tension in that spot. “Told you I was good” I hum, moving to a slightly less tense knot on the other side. “So fucking good holy shit” he moaned softly causing me to giggle. “Ohh, you poor baby has no one been taking care of you?” I coo teasingly and he smiles, eyes still blissfully shut and chuckles a bit. “No, you can absolutely take the position- ah” he hisses as I work a particularly tight spot in his left shoulder. 

“Mmm.. you’re right handed aren’t you?” I hum, working it gentler, easing the tension out slower so it wasn’t so intense. “Yes? W-how do you know that?” He asked and I worked it deeper, being sure to get out all the stressed energy he held there. “Because your left side is wrecked with stress, baby” I mumbled, digging my fingers deeper into the tenseness. He whimpered softly. “Hmm…please honey” he moaned, causing the ends of my lips to upcurl in a smirk. 

“Course baby” I said softly, working that area a bit harder. “So…since we don’t remember who ended the last time,” I said quietly. “My question first, then, have you thought about fucking me, Carmen” I asked boldly, my fingers digging in to the tender, sensitive, most tense spot in his left shoulder causing him to whimper beautifully. “Y-yes…yes Winnie fuck…” he mumbled softly, his breath hitching in his throat. “Hmm…Have you jacked off thinking of me?” I asked softly, massaging my fingers in to the most tender spot of the muscle causing him to gasp and mutter a low “Jesus fucking Christ” 

“Y-yes. Yes.” He whined, his shoulder inching towards my touch. “Y-Yes.. yes, every time since we met.” He breathed and I worked on his shoulder blades, earning a raspy moan. “Anything to ask, baby?” I said softly, gripping the knots in his muscly skin with the soft pads of my fingers. “Fuck”  he groaned, biting his lip sharply. “Ah- shit I- I can’t focus” he muttered as my fingers smoothed out the toughest knots throughout his back. “Then..can I ask you another?” I asked softly.

“Mmhmm” he moaned softly, the music softly playing though out my my bedroom. 

I gripped his most sensitive spots, earning a raspy moan to spill from his lips. “roll over, baby” I muttered and got off his back, allowing him to roll as I told him.”You’re…so fuckin’ perfect honey” he breathed. I quickly straddled his chest, my hands running absentmindedly over the toned muscle that laid beneath my frame. 

“I just wanna make you feel good” I said softly and rubbed over his chest, massaging his biceps and forearms. “You really don’t have any questions?” I ask, a smirk dancing on my lips. His cheeks redden, the bridge of his nose going a soft pink. “C-can you take this off?” He asked, thumb playing with the edge of my tank top. I giggle, crossing my arms over and taking it off in one swift motion, and throwing it to the floor. 

“Better?” I asked and his pupils darkened, swallowing thickly. “Fuck…you do have them pierced” he said and I smile proudly “mmhmm. You would look hot with yours pierced” I traced my forefinger over his nipple. “Can I touch you?” He asked softly and I laughed a bit. “Yes silly, you don’t have to ask” I said and he wasted no time grabbing my breast and massaging over my piercing with his thumb. I moaned softly, leaning in and kissing him wantingly. 

He gently tugged on the jewelry causing me to moan into his mouth, tugging on his curls gently and rolling my hips into his. He groaned at the friction, his length was already achingly hard in his sweatpants. “Fuck, you make me feel like a fucking virgin” he muttered into my lips when we broke our heated kiss causing me to giggle. “Isn’t that a good thing?” I played with his chain gently “mmhmm, let me suck on your tits” he said and pulled me to his mouth causing me to laugh at his sudden boldness that quickly turned into a moan. 

“Fuck yes baby take what you want” I moaned out my head draping back at the sensation of his tongue flicking over my nipples and sucking lightly. “Oh-“ I gasped in pleasure as he nipped lightly. My core was dripping with need, I could feel my pajama pants becoming uncomfortably wet. “I need you Carmy” I moaned and he pulled away, looking up at me. 

“What do you want?” He asked and I push his shoulders down in to the bed “I want to ride your fucking face.” I said and his eyes widened “l-like-“ he swallowed thickly “please.” He nods “While I suck your cock.” I added and he nodded quickly “mmhmm- anything you want.” He said and I knelt on the bed, shimmying out of my panties and pajama pants “have you…” I questioned and he laughed. 

“Yes oh my god should I be offended? Yes I’ve eaten pussy” he said and I shook my head with a giggle “no- like. Have you ever had your face ridden” I blushed and he nods “a few times- why? have you…” he questioned. “No…never.” I said, my cheeks heating more. He grinned “alright c’mon,” he laid back. I swallowed thickly and made my way up to his face, straddling him with my feet pressed to the headboard. 

“Holy shit” he whispers and my head snaps down “what? Is something bad?” I asked and he chuckled lowly, his hot breath causing my core to twitch. “No…you have a really pretty pussy honey. C’mon, Sit” he pulled me down by my thighs onto his mouth and I gasped at the sensation lightly, resting my hands flat on his chest for support. I moaned loudly as his tongue circles my swollen clit, quickly flicking over it and slap a hand over my mouth to muffle the cry. “Oh fuck…Carmen” I moaned out, grinding in to his face. 

He moaned into me, the vibration causing me to shudder at the pleasure it brought. “You taste fuckin’ amazing baby” he said and I leaned forward, hands shaking from the overstimulation and I pulled his member out of his boxers. I bit my lip, stifling a moan as he thrusts his tongue in my entrance. I swallowed hard looking at it, I would not be able to fit this whole thing in my mouth, it would be halfway down my throat if I took it all. I quiet my moan by sinking my mouth down on his cock, humming softly at the salty taste of precum already soaking his tip. 

He moaned into me, causing my jaw to drop at the vibration and I sunk down deeper, hollowing my cheeks and whining into his length when his strong nose brushed my clit. I bobbed my head faster, grinding my hips into his mouth, feeling my core clenching and twitching, that feeling in my stomach growing tighter and more unbearable with each flick of his tongue. I pulled off his cock, my chin dripping with saliva from the sinful messy encounter. 

“Fuck- c-carm, I’m so close” I whined out and he hums in satisfaction, I pump his cock in my right hand, my thumb rubbing over the tip with each stroke causing him to groan in to me. “Cum baby, cum on my face” he mumbled into my skin, his voice sultry and deep. I bit my lip, “I want you to cum inside of me” I said softly, my voice dripping with need. “What?” He stopped and I whined “I- I want you to cum in my pussy” I look back at him and his eyes widen. 

“Are you…” he questioned and I nod “I have an implant. Please. Can I ride you Carmy” I beg and he nods “course…course you can” I got off him and quickly lined myself up, guiding his tip to my entrance and sinking down until he bottomed out. We moan in sync, his head falling back on the pillow, his eyes fluttering shut. “Oh fuckin’ hell” he muttered and I lean forward, his tip rubbing against my g-spot and I whine loudly. “Oh fuck” I moaned, bouncing slowly as I get used to the stretch. 

“Fuck Carmy you’re huge I literally feel you in my stomach” I moaned out, bouncing harder and faster as I got used to the enormously full sensation. “Y’re so fucking tight baby” he grunted, watching my tits bounce as I quickened my pace. My walls started fluttering around him, my release right around the corner and my head fell back, my thighs shaking in exhaustion. Before I knew it he was flipping us over, and pounding in and out of me, the entire bed shaking and slamming against the wall. 

I cry out, wrapping my legs around his waist and locking my ankles to push him deeper. My back arches up, eyes rolling back slightly in pleasure and head falling to the pillow “holy fuck” I whine loudly and opened my eyes to see his chain dangling and swinging in front of me with each powerful thrust. I gently take it between my teeth and look up at him through my eyelashes. 

“Fuck honey” he says and I feel his cock twitch inside of me, he angles himself more upwards and I gasp loudly his chain falling from my teeth “there- oh my fucking god Carm don’t you dare move” I cried, eyes screwing shut and he pushes harder in to that spot, it wasn’t long until my walls were fluttering around him wildly and my legs were shaking in release “oh Carmy” I moaned like a pornstar, my back arching in pleasure. He fucks me through my release, and spills in to me with a grunt, resting on his elbow and breathing hard.

My eyes open and I look at him, eyes fluttered shut, forehead damp with sweat, but looking genuinely relaxed for the first time since I’d met him. I pulled him on top of me, humming happily at the feeling of his weight as I pulled him into a deep wanting kiss. I play with his hair gently, his curls damp slightly with sweat. “You did amazing, baby” I said softly when I pulled away and kissed his forehead tenderly. 

“You were the one that was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever fucked like that” he said softly, rolling over and laying down with an exhausted sigh. “Well I think we should fuck like that much more often” I said and snuggled into his chest, pulling a fluffy pink blanket over us. He chuckled a bit “absolutely. And a plus your bed is comfy as shit it smells so good in here” he said, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me closer. 

“I dunno why I didn’t picture you having tattoos” he said, thumb brushing over the devil on my hip causing me to smile. “Why’s that?” I ask and he chuckled “well firstly, getting a huge piece on your ribs and hips is insane for an only tattoo so pardon me for not guessing” he said causing me to giggle. “Why?” I asked and his eyebrows raise. 

“Why? Because it hurts like a bitch” he rubs his thumb over my sternum. “I got my nipples done first” I said and he hummed, “how long did it hurt” he asked, rubbing his finger over it immediately causing it to perk up making him smirk. 

“They’re super sensitive, that's one of the reasons I have them” I brush his hand down, holding it in my own. “And for like…7 or 8 months. I couldn’t start wearing bras again until like 3 months ago. I forgot how annoying they are.” I said and laced my fingers In his. He hums “I think you shouldn’t wear them, it’s hot as fuck I couldn’t stop staring when you answered the door” he said and I laugh. 

“Mmhmm think I didn’t notice?” I poke his nose playfully. “You have quite the tongue by the way” I said and leaned up to kiss him, rubbing my tongue against his bottom lip to which he opened and I slipped my tongue into his mouth, humming in satisfaction at the taste of me on his tongue. He lifts his hand back up, tugging my nipple between his fingers gently causing me to moan and he smiles against my lips. 

“Carm” I whine, “your cum is literally leaking out of me cause you’re making me wet again, stop” I said and he laughed. “C’mon let’s take a shower then yeah?” I him with a smile “yeah” I sit up, stretching my back. 

“Ugh. Smells like sex In here” I scrunch my nose and he snorts “wonder why that is” I get up from the bed and went into the bathroom turning the shower on hot and looking in the mirror. I gasped “Carmen! You are so trashy!” I said pointing to the hickey that was on my neck and he chuckles “Shit I’m sorry I didn’t even realize, guess I was too caught up in it” he comes over, rubbing his thumb over it gently before placing a kiss on the area. 

I cup his jaw gently and pull him into a sweet kiss, wrapping my arm around the back of his neck and pulling him closer. “ you’re lucky you’re cute” I told him when he pulled away and he smiled, his lips kiss swollen and pink. “Let me wash your hair” I said softly, playing with the curls at the base of his neck. “Okay” he said, rubbing the small of my back gently. I opened up the curtain 

“If I can wash yours” he countered and I giggled a bit as I got in “got yourself a deal, don’t leave me lonely in here” I said and dipped my head back, closing my eyes and getting my hair soaked. He gets in and hisses when the water hits him “Holy fuckin’ hell Winnie” he said “why is it so hot?” He asked and I hummed. “It feels sooo good, you don’t take your showers like this?” I asked and he touched the water pulling his hand back after a few short seconds “holy shit how are you hot red after you get out?” He asked and I laughed. 

“I am, it reminds me of being home with the other demons” I joked and turn it down a smidge for him “there, since you’re such a baby” I trade spots with him so he could wet his hair, having to angle she shower head up a bit for himself since I was much shorter. “No I think you’re just a hellraiser” he snorts. I grabbed the soap sudsing up my hands and gently rubbing over his chest and he peeks his eyes open. “Givin’ me the full treatment huh?” He asked and I smiled. 

“Can’t a girl feel you up?” I teased and rubbed my hands over the toned muscle of his abs and stomach. “You are so hot” I said , my fingers dancing over his v-line and I looked up at him. He looked gorgeous, the water trailing over his shoulders and off the bridge of his nose as he tilted his head to soak his hair fully. “You really know how to get a guy knowing you know that?” He spins me around so my back is against his chest and he kisses my jaw, gently nipping causing me to gasp. 

“Yeah?” I breathe, my fingers trailing up to play with his curls. His hand slides down my stomach, slipping his fingers between the folds of my heat and I gasp softly. He hums, gathering the product of our time in bed and my slick arousal over his fingers and holding them up, strings of the sticky creamy substance sticking to both of his fingers as he pulls them apart.

“That…is so fucking hot honey” he said and watches as I take his fingers in to my mouth, my tongue swirling around them, lapping up the sweet salty taste of our arousals mixed together and moaned softly at the taste, my eyes fluttering shut. He exhaled lowly, taking in the sight in front of him. “Such a dirty girl” he said hotly and I moaned softly around his fingers, pulling away with a ‘pop’ and looking at him innocently through my lashes. 

“Bend over” he orders and I giggle like a brat “oooo, Carmy are you gonna punish me for being a dirty whore for you” I teased and his jaw drops slightly “Don’t worry, you can punish me however you want I’ll say apple if I want you to stop” I said and bit my lip gently. “Are you gonna spank me, Carmy” I kiss his jaw and I felt a sharp stinging sensation on my right cheek accompanied by a loud slap. I gasp, a soft moan tumbling from my lips. 

“Is that all you-“ I’m cut off from my teasing when he slams his hand down on my left cheek, causing it to sting and I’m sure if I saw there would be a red handprint on my ass which just turned me on more. “I said, bend over.” He demanded and I turned around, bending over the bench I had to shave my legs and he rubbed over the stinging spot. “You’re gonna learn to listen to me” he said into my ear, his cold chain brushing my shoulder and making me shiver slightly. 

I swallow thickly and nod, “y-yes” I manage out, pushing my bum back against him. He spanks me again, harder this time causing me to yelp. “Yes what?” He asked. “Yes- Yes Sir! I’ll be good, please fuck me” I whine and he chuckled a bit, reaching between my legs and rubbing my throbbing clit with his middle and ring fingers causing my knees to quiver. 

“That’s a good girl” he whispered, placing a kiss between my shoulder blades and reaching up and gently tugging on my nipple jewelry causing me to moan. “P-please Carmy, please, I need your cock” I begged, resting on my elbows. “Yeah baby? You want me to fill you up again?” He asked, his tip teasing my entrance and I moaned, trying to sink back on him but only getting the tip in. 

“Please- fuck Carmen I need you to fill me with your cum please” i whined out and he pushed in to me, bottoming out with one long stroke causing me to cry out, my eyes squeezing shut and seeing stars at the otherworldly mix of pain and pleasure. “Since you asked, so good baby. Those are the manners I want from you when we play, hm?” He hummed, holding my hips and fucking himself in to me with long hard strokes that had my thighs quivering under the weight of my body, struggling to hold myself up. 

“Fuck Angel you take my cock so well” he groans out and I moan at his words, his strong hands holding me up by the ribs when he realized I was starting to have trouble standing. “Carm, fuck carm-“ I muttered his name like an invocation, my eyes fluttering shut and my orgasm washing over me before I could even warn him. He grunts at the feeling of my walls spasming around him, the only sound being the water and the slapping of our skin as he ravenously fucked me through my orgasm. 

My knees shook, the sensation becoming slightly overwhelming. “Fuck, I gotcha’ honey, I gotcha” he held me with his forearm, kissing my neck with hot open kisses “almost there baby almost there- fuck” he moaned and my breath becomes shaky, my core tightening around him and releasing at each rut in to my g spot. “Carmen” I squeak out, tears rimming my eyes, “do you need me to stop baby?” He goes slower and I shook my head quickly “no, no. God fucking cum in me please” I begged and he picks the speed back up. 

His hand slithers down and rubs over my clit with his fingers and I cry out, my hips jerking at the contact “c’mon sweet girl, cum again. Cum on my cock, I know you have another one for me baby” he kisses my jaw, nipping at the soft skin and I couldn’t even think, the only thoughts I could manage was how good his cock felt fucking me at such a hard pace, using me as his own personal stress relief. Before I knew it my third orgasm of the night was washing over me, I felt completely spent. 

I shudder, nearly going limp under him and he grunts, unleashing a hot enormous load into me, holding me up as he finishes. His breathing was ragged and hot, he gently pulled me to his chest, his cock falling out of me and the sudden feeling of emptiness caused a whine to escape my lips. He kissed my forehead and I opened my eyes to look at him, he was smiling lazily. 

“I really made you cum 3 times?” He asked and I nod a bit “I’ve never cum 3 times. I can barely stand, can you wash my hair first?” I asked softly and he nodded, gently setting me to sit on the bench that was built into my shower. “Are you ok?” He tilts my chin up so I look at him and I smile tiredly. 

“Mmhmm. I really want pizza.” I said softly. He chuckled a bit, “my kinda girl. You know how late it is, right?” He raised his eyebrows looking over the assortment of scrubs and soaps in my shower, looking for the shampoo. I pointed to it and he grabbed it, gently pushing my hair from my face. 

“We’ve been fucking 2 hours and you got here 20 minutes before that. So…2:30?” I asked and he snorted a bit, squeezing shampoo on the top of my head and gently massaging it into my scalp. “Strong sense of internal clock?” He asked and I hummed. “Not really, I’m judging based on how tired I feel” I sigh in to the feeling of his hands and he gently drags the shampoo over my ends. 

“You have…so much hair. Jesus this is a lot” he said putting more shampoo in his hands and I laugh a bit “hence why I was surprised you asked to do it, but thank you for taking this chore off my todo list” I hummed moaning softly when he massaged the soreness behind my ears where my hair had been up. 

“Mmhmm, it gets curly like yours when it’s really short, ‘s why I have to straighten my bangs” I yawned, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. He chucked a bit “that’s really cute, curly red hair” he said and finished shampooing. “Thank you I feel better” I look up at him and puckered my lips, he took the offer kissing me sweetly. 

I hummed into the kiss, cupping his jaw and my thumb running over the stubble that had grown over the course of the day. “Your turn” I said when he pulled away and got up, rinsing my hair out and closing my eyes, humming softly to myself. “Eva told me you sing” he said softly and I smiled. “Well, for fun. Not like I should be on Broadway, it’s not that hard to impress a little girl” I said, rinsing out my ends. 

“Well…Richie said that you’re really good, like you sound like a princess” he said and I felt my cheeks heat. “Ok…don’t ask me to sing for you” I said shyly and he chuckled. “Promise I won’t, but I’d love to hear you sing sometime” he said and I finished rinsing my hair. “Come around the bookstore sometime you’ll probably catch me” I said, squeezing some shampoo in to his hair and massaging it in. 

He sighs contently, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. “You’re really good at that” he mumbled and I smiled. “Thanks…you have really nice hair” I said, gently scratching his scalp and he moaned softly. “Mmm..can’t remember the last time I had my hair washed” he said softly and I got down near his neck, massaging the tight curls gently. “I’m glad you’re letting me take care of you” I said softly, his forehead gently resting against my tattoo. 

“Mm..only you though” he said quietly, causing a smile to grace my features. I finished massaging in the shampoo and put some conditioner on my own hair, “close your eyes so I can…” I giggle and he scrunches his eyebrows. “Not only have your pussy and I met face to face, we did mouth to mouth. That pussy and I are well acquainted, and you can’t wash up in front of me?” He teased and I blushed. “You are such a perv, Berzatto” I turned around, washing away the remnants of the last few hours gently since I was still so sensitive. 

When I turned back around he was smiling bashfully, “whattt” I whined, crossing my arms. “You have freckles on your butt. I didn’t notice before” he said and I giggle “I have freckles like…everywhere” I held out my speckled arms and he takes one, kissing from my wrist to the crook of my elbow. 

“It’s adorable.” He said and I scoop some shampoo with my forefinger before it dripped in his eyes. “Wash your hair, mister the waters getting cold” I rinse my conditioner out before stepping out and drying off, leaving a second pink towel for him on the hook and I heard a familiar scratching at the door. 

“Sephy! A minute honey” I said and gasp. “Oh my god! Her bedtime snack!! Poor baby” I open the door in a hurry and I hear him chuckle from the bathroom as I put on my slippers and rush into the kitchen to pour her one of her soup treats. “So sorry Angel my poor baby” I coo, petting her as she eats and I headed back to the bedroom to see Carm out of the shower, his curls extra pronounced from the water and the towel draped around his waist. 

I bit my lip, looking at the water dripping down his chest over his abs, to his V line, feeling my aching core throbbing with excitement. I could not go another round tonight- I was already gonna be sore in the morning. “Hey- uhh do you know where I threw my backpack?” He asked, snapping me back to reality. 

“Backpack…backpack! Uh yeah. One sec” I went back out to the entryway, grabbing it from the hook and bringing it back for him. He unzips it, taking out a clean pair of boxers and I gasp. “Carmen Berzatto! You little whore” I teased and he chuckled “what? How do you mean?” He asked taking out deodorant and my jaw drops further. 

“Ohh my god!! You brought a hoe bag!! You are such a little slut” I shook my head with a teasing smirk. “What the hell is a hoe bag?” He asked and I went over to my dresser, dropping my towel and going through my underwear drawer. “Oh you know, just your spend the night bag for hoetivities.” I said and he chuckled. 

“Hoetivities? Like a hookup bag? Well..yeah I mean we were both planning on hooking up right?” He asked and I giggled. “Yeah but still you have it all put together? What an organized little slut” I teased and pulled out some cheeky panties slipping them on and when I turned around he was watching me in his boxers and I raised my eyebrows. 

“Glad I'm not the only one that’s shamelessly eye fucking. Help me strip the bed will ya' peepin' tom? I’m gonna order the pizza” I said and he smirked, shaking his head as he pulled the sheets off. “Yes ma’am of course” he said and I went over to my closet, pulling out a oversized vintage Levi’s tshirt and slipping it over my head, before grabbing my phone changing my playlist to my getting ready for bed one which contained most of my heavy metal selection and hum softly to the lyrics. 

“What the fuck” he mutters before laughing and I look at him, his laughter being contagious and I end up laughing as well. “What?” I giggled. “Fuckin…so let me just- you listen to Taylor swift, rap, and heavy metal?” He asks and I giggle shrugging “mmhmm…we’ll only girl rappers, and heavy metal bands that have girls but yup. I do!” I said and took the sheets and our dirty clothes, bringing them to my washroom. 

“You surprise me all the time” he said and sat down on the mattress. I come back after I’d start it and gasp pleased “holy rollerrr! I love this one!” I said dropping off the fresh sheets on the bed and he chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever…listened to this kinda music” he said and my eyebrows raise. 

“Are you kidding?! I didn’t expect you to be a metal head…but…what do you listen to?” I asked and he shrugged, “I..don’t” he chuckled and my eyebrows furrowed. “How do you mean?” I asked “I don’t have time for that really…” he said plainly and I scoffed. “So when you’re working out?” I asked and he shrugged again “quiet. It’s nice to just not think” he said and I started putting my pillows in the pillow cases. 

“Maybe you are a psycho” I said, causing him to chuckle. “You say that like a revelation, I told you that” he joked and I shook my head with a smile. “Chris got me into metal” I said and he nodded, getting up to help me stretch the fitted sheet over the bed. “Why’d he like it?” He asked and I tucked a corner under the mattress. 

“He was deaf…the uh bass…he liked it” I clear my throat and he hums. “Oh…did you know sign and everything?” He asked “oh..yeah of course that was…my whole first 22 years” I swallowed thickly, tucking the other corner on my side in. “That’s really cool..” he said and I nod. “I would um…when we went to concerts, I would interpret for him and he always was…so happy he loved concerts. I miss going with him, so so much” I sighed, throwing my comforter over the bed and he smiled a bit. 

“That’s really sweet of you, Winnie” he said and I smiled. “Thank you” I said softly, sitting down on the now made bed. He sits down next to me, “Y’know Mikey..we used t’call ‘em Monkey, he uh…we cooked together. That was always our common ground, and it’s where we really clicked the best. So I get that… Y’know- missing em” he said and I pulled him into a hug, my lips resting on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around me, soothingly rubbing my back. 

“Thank you” I said softly into his skin. “F’what honey?” He asked, gently playing with the wet ends of my hair gently. “Not running off after we were done and talking with me” I said quietly and he sighed softly, pulling me into his lap to hold me fully and he kissed my cheek sweetly. “Why would I leave you, Win?” He asked softly and pushed my hair over my shoulders before kissing my jaw tenderly. 

“Cause you got what you wanted” my eyes fluttered shut and he stopped. “Is that how I made you feel?” He asked, a trace of betrayal in his voice. “No, no Carm” I looked up at him, “guys usually…just dip” I sigh softly. “So I’m glad…thank you for being open enough to stay” I said and he nodded a bit, leaning in and kissing me once more. 

“You still want that pizza?” 

→ 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐸𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝐻𝑒𝓇𝑒

#the bear fic #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear fx #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfiction #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto x oc #carmy berzatto x oc

[tunastime]

Behold, Beholding, Beheld

to the person who said "[no place for strangers] is even more relevant because of secret life" this is for you. I literally cannot get bigb's ep. 1 out of my head :3

(1285 words)

They're standing in the open, where anyone could be watching them.

Well, not like it matters. Anyone could be watching. Watching could be done at any point. That's the whole point of Watching—but BigB means players, and, of them, he doesn't really care who sees. He folds his arms over his chest. Grian is standing a few feet away, with his back turned. He's working at the crafting table, here, out in the open, instead of at home, if he even has a place to call home. Maybe it's more things for the dump chest. Stone tools or leftover iron armor—things are becoming obsolete now that they could easily be gifted enough for something made of netherite. 

BigB watches his shoulders, sharp, pulled forward and up to his ears. His feathers bristle as he seems to notice BigB's eyes on him. BigB feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up, a tingling sensation, like something had fallen asleep, stretching from the tips of his fingers to his elbows. He feels his spine straighten on its own accord, heels digging into the soft grass below him. It feels like he's looking into a great eye and refusing to blink. It’s kind of weird.

He really doesn’t get this anywhere else, does he? Isn’t that refreshing. 

BigB clears his throat.

"Grian," he says, in a voice unwavering and firm despite the roll of his stomach. "Let's talk."

He says let's talk so there's no room for argument, which is what Grian is good at, so there's no space to refute and say something like:

"I can't right now," Grian says, like he's got his tongue between his teeth. He sounds a touch frustrated, but not with BigB. He doubts that he really could be truly frustrated with him. "I'm busy."

BigB folds his arms, tilting his head a little to the side. The pitch of his voice doesn't change.

"It wasn't really a question," he says, sounding almost bored. "But okay."

Almost immediately, the prickling feeling fades. He watches Grian’s feathers rise, fluff, just a fraction, in a way he fought not to envy. The air around them stills to a stifling degree, like the sound were being snuffed like a candle. Like some heavy glass dome had been settled over just the two of them. Grian straightens, setting down his things, the motions quick and smooth as BigB folds his arms.

"Alright..." Grian says with a resigned sigh. He turns around, moving to sit on the table behind him. His expression softens a bit as BigB looks him over. "Shoot, what is it?"

BigB nods. He gets it. There’s something here, in this space that they’re standing in, that feels equal parts right and dreadfully wrong. He takes a long breath in, staring briefly at his sneakers. Grian’s posture sinks a bit, a bit more natural, a bit less accusatory. He tilts his head, almost curious. BigB rolls his shoulders back.

"Earlier when we talked, the other day,” he starts. “After you interrogated me for no reason—"

Grian startles, leaning forward, fast and sharp, frowning.

"Aye—it was not for no reason,” he tries. “I had perfectly good reason—"

BigB continues despite Grian’s outburst.

"—you said they. They might suspect." He tilts his head, too, narrowing his eyes just a bit. He tries to read a little further, despite his best efforts not to. He can’t help it. The tingle of sensation, of being looked at, runs over his arms and down the back of his neck. Grian’s already doing it, why shouldn’t he? “What did you mean by that?"

There’s a stretch of silence between them. True silence. False silence is when BigB could hear the wind, like a moment before, over the rock of the hooded Secret Keeper, the way it almost sung, barely, under a breath not exhaled. It was crickets right at the dusk that shadowed the shrine, or the cicadas in the light of day, cows and chickens and sheep in the distance. Or it was the river behind them, or the breeze in the trees, or laughter, far away, loud enough to carry. But no speaking. That was false silence. This was true. One that BigB took careful watch over. How each sound faded out to nothing. Not even his heartbeat.

"I didn't mean anything by it,” Grian says, like the words are heavy in his mouth. His expression hasn’t changed. Except for the smallest light in his eye. A twinge in his voice. None of it good. BigB frowns, something that feels wrong on his face.

"Grian—" he says.

Grian's eyes flick to the shrine. Quick. Insistent. Back to BigB. BigB sees the bob of his throat when he swallows.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he says again, short and sharp.

BigB feels that rush again, seeing-not-seeing. He doesn’t know what it is, really. What feels so right and so wrong about it. But there’s something in the back of Grian’s voice that he does know. It’s almost fear. He knows Grian hates not knowing. It’s his whole shtick. Aside from the hunting people down part. He likes the thrill, and he likes to know every little detail, and he likes to run a game. And he’s only doing one of those things right now.

BigB shrugs.

"Fine, fine. Whatever. Don't tell me."

Grian rolls his eyes. Maybe he thinks that there’s something BigB doesn’t understand. He would be wrong, of course, but Grian doesn’t know that. He’s content with thinking he always has all the cards. So Grian asks him:

"So what were you on about back then?" with a heavy sigh, a twist of his mouth into a frown. BigB blinks. The feeling that curls up and invades his chest is sticky and cold and not pleasant to swallow. He furrows his eyebrows.

"Hm?" he asks. Genuine.

"You were being all...wishy-washy and gaslight-y and odd. In that same conversation we were having. What was that?” Grian leans forward. He’s not looking. He’s asking. His voice is sincere and concerned and BigB suddenly feels very cold, very quickly. It stretches from arm, to wrist, to hand, over his fingers. He balls his fists and lets them go. “Who were you trying to throw off?"

"What? Nobody,” BigB says, suddenly hearing all of the noise again. His heartbeat. The cicadas. The wind. The sky is still purple-blue, faded where it touches the statue. He can hear the grass swaying. He can hear the way Grian’s wings shuffle. “Nothing. It was nothing. Don't worry about it."

"B..." Grian tries, standing up. BigB backs up, digs his heels into the earth again.

"Quit! Don't,” he says, the breath caught in his chest. “It wasn't anything, okay?"

"Okay!” Grian blinks. “Okay..."

The air settles after that. It feels a bit easier for BigB to breathe, then, sighing out as Grian shivers and his feathers flutter and settle. 

It’s not Grian’s job to know everything. It’s not Grian’s job to oversee, and to look, and to find every nook and cranny in a game he made to be perfect. His job was to play. To experience. To feed on it. It was BigB’s job to make sure things went well. Not for Grian. For him. It was always his job to watch. And he was planning on doing the best he could with the time he had. Whatever he had to do, he would.

Grian shrugs after a second, turning away from him, already bored as sensation and silence leave them, and as they both stand without any answer or step forward. BigB turns away from him, frowning.

If only he could find where Pearl had run off to.

#bigbst4tz2 #bigbstatz #secret life smp #slsmp #secret life spoilers #secret life fic #mcyt #traffic series #something something it was REAL interesting how weirdly worded bigb's task was #i really like the idea that he's kind of like. THE guy in charge #the guy the watchers send to make sure everything actually goes okay #he's like an inspector to me sjdhfjkshdfkh #i adore him.. idk this isn't much but i just had to get it out of my head.. its a bit old i'm a little behind with eps right now #fics #text

[scriveyner]

always summer #27

always summer #27: face-sitting | bungou stray dogs |👿🐯 | #kinktober 🔞| ~1600 words

There had been no sign of Dazai nor Chuuya since they got back in, which was both a relief and a new worry all its own. To be entirely honest, Atsushi wouldn’t have been surprised to see Chuuya stomp out of the woods covered in dirt and carrying a shovel, and while the door to the master bedroom remained closed no sound emanated from within. “Weren’t you just contemplating homicide the other night?” Akutagawa asked as Atsushi considered the closed door.

Continue on ao3 or:

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Akutagawa snorted. At least he didn’t seem to be bothered, and even made dinner for the two of them, lighting the candles on the table and everything. It was soft and romantic, something he still wasn’t used to having Akutagawa perform for him, and Atsushi even drank the wine he poured without a fuss, it made him feel warm and content.

“This is so nice,” Atsushi sighed as they leaned against each other on the couch, Atsushi with his finally restored phone and Akutagawa with a book he’d been reading. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

He didn’t know at what point he fell asleep, but Atsushi woke with a blanket across his legs, tucked under Akutagawa’s arm. He was still reading under the soft light of one of the floor lamps, and Atsushi didn’t want to move and disturb the spell that was cast over them both. He never wanted to leave this moment.

Akutagawa lifted his hand and tapped two fingers against Atsushi’s temple, without taking his eyes from his book. “Finally awake?”

Atsushi blinked and snuffled but didn’t raise his head. “How could you tell?”

“You don’t purr when you’re awake,” Akutagawa said, and Atsushi wheeled himself upright, face flaming scarlet, and slammed both of his hands down on Akutagawa’s thigh in protest.

“I don’t purr at all!”

Akutagawa closed his book with one hand, and, with the other, cupped Atsushi’s chin and drew him in for a kiss. Atsushi scowled but finally submitted to it, and Akutagawa licked gently into his mouth. “You don’t do it often,” he murmured. “I consider it a gift.”

Atsushi’s face achieved a color that would make a traffic light proud, though when Akutagawa smiled at him and it was soft and endearing and not a smirk, his embarrassment faded. He huffed out a sigh and hung his head, fingers worrying at the fabric of Akutagawa’s shorts. “I feel safe when I’m with you,” he admitted. Akutagawa didn’t startle at this revelation, but he brushed his hand along Atsushi’s cheek, keeping his face turned toward Akutagawa.

“I do, too,” he said, finally, and this time it was Atsushi who leaned in for the kiss.

~*~

“I wonder if they’re both dead,” Atsushi said, seated on his knees in the bed when Akutagawa emerged from the bathroom. He’d attempted to follow him into the shower, intent on initiating something, but Rashomon had kindly shown him the door. Akutagawa was particular about his bathroom habits and didn’t always appreciate an audience.

“We’ll see in the morning, they could just both be drunk and passed out,” Akutagawa said as he dried his hair. Atsushi conceded this point and caught Akutagawa by the wrist as he passed. He stopped and looked wordlessly at Atsushi, who grinned somewhat sheepishly.

“I have something I want to try,” he said, and Akutagawa raised a barely present eyebrow. “Please?”

Akutagawa turned and took Atsushi’s hand off his wrist with the other. For a moment Atsushi was afraid he would be denied, and that Akutagawa was justifiably worn out and just wanted to sleep, but he leaned in instead. “I will not do snowballing.”

Atsushi laughed and tugged him in for a kiss. “You made your thoughts abundantly clear on that one already,” he said, lightly. “I got something else.”

“Mm, do you?” Akutagawa climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap and kissing him. Atsushi exhaled into his mouth and gently bit Akutagawa’s lower lip.

“I do,” he hummed, and flopped over backward, dragging Akutagawa with him. They kissed for a while, Akutagawa warm in his arms; it was nice and soft but then Atsushi encouraged him up on his knees, still straddling him, and Akutagawa leaned back and wrapped his hand around Atsushi’s dick, which had filled out against his leg.

“No, no,” Atsushi said, pulling on Akutagawa’s thighs. “Up here.”

Akutagawa tilted forward, bracing his hand on the headboard, frown twisting his face as he looked down at Atsushi. Atsushi smirked back up at him, wiggling down slightly further and stroking Akutagawa’s dick, which was now right above his face. “You are up to something, weretiger.”

“Of course I am,” Atsushi said, angling his head so he could lick the underside of Akutagawa’s cock and watch him shudder, pleased. He focused his attention on it for the moment, wrist twisting as he stroked, smearing the clear fluid that was leaking from the tip. Akutagawa exhaled and closed his eyes as Atsushi kept at it, hanging his head.

Atsushi was good with his mouth, and he had no fear of putting it anywhere on Akutagawa’s body—which is why it should have come as no surprise at all when he slid lower, one hand still loosely wrapped around Akutagawa’s cock but the other pushing his cheek away, dragging him down so that Atsushi could lick over his hole.

This elicited a loud noise of surprise from Akutagawa, who immediately grabbed Atsushi by what hair he could still see and attempted to tug him away. “What-!?” Atsushi twisted his head free and did it again, using both hands to pull Akutagawa’s hips down further so that his entire mouth was now in play.

Atsushi had remembered the lube this time, and released Akutagawa’s cock to fumble with it, slicking his fingers and bringing them into the game. Akutagawa made breathy, wheezing noises every time Atsushi licked around his hole, breathed on him, or dipped his tongue in; and right around the time he worked his second finger in, curling them and rubbing inside, Akutagawa made a weird hitching noise.

He'd fingered Akutagawa before, plenty of times—he couldn’t remember a noise like that. Atsushi slowed but didn’t remove his fingers, pressing a sloppy kiss to the inside of Akutagawa’s thigh. “You okay?” he asked, and when he didn’t receive any kind of answer pulled his fingers free as well.

“Ryuunosuke?”

He could hear his ragged breathing, so Atsushi wiggled his face up enough to see that his cock was stiff, leaking steadily, and both his hands were white-knuckling the headboard. Akutagawa’s eyes were glazed, and he wasn’t really seeing Atsushi. “Hey,” he said, and finally Akutagawa focused on him. “You okay with this?”

Akutagawa wet his dry lips. “You really will put your mouth on anything,” he said and groaned, shifting his weight on his knees. His cock thwapped Atsushi in the cheek and left wet behind, and Atsushi caught it and stroked, watching how sensitive Akutagawa was.

“I barely even got started.” He stroked Akutagawa’s cock idly, focusing on it. “You want me to stop?”

He didn’t respond again. Atsushi exhaled, licked the head of his cock clean, and said, “you know, I got you fingered open if you’d rather ride me instead…”

Akutagawa groaned, twisted his hands on the headboard, and Atsushi laughed. He climbed slightly out from under him, urging Akutagawa back until his ass rubbed over Atsushi’s ignored erection. He was more back to himself now, hand gripping behind him and stroking Atsushi’s cock; he wasn’t lubed but Akutagawa didn’t seem to care and before Atsushi could stop him for more prep he was already sinking down.

He was so striking, sprawled out on Atsushi’s lap, and he had come back to himself for sure now, one hand gripping Atsushi’s knee as he arched his back, hips settling flush against Atsushi’s. “God,” Atsushi muttered, as Akutagawa rose a little and sank back down, making a lewd noise of pleasure, “you’re so hot? How are you so hot.”

Akutagawa cracked open an eye and gave Atsushi a disdainful look, and he laughed, putting his hands on Akutagawa’s hips to steady him—at least until Rashomon cracked free of the sheets they were tangled in and caught him by both wrists, binding them just above his head and nearly lost between the pillows. “Hey!”

“No touching,” Akutagawa hissed and spread his legs for a better viewing angle.

Atsushi moaned, because Akutagawa was tight, and hot in every way, and watching his dick bob back and forth as he continuously impaled himself on Atsushi’s cock was making his eyes cross. He was shamefully close just this quickly, and the fire building in his guy was the only warning. “Ryuu, I’m gonna…hn, I’m close—”

Akutagawa rose almost entirely off him, tilting perilously forward and bracing his palms on Atsushi’s chest—before sitting down hard. Atsushi unspooled entirely, dick throbbing as he emptied inside Akutagawa. Akutagawa’s cock still hung hard but he couldn’t touch, and how this had gone from him in control to Akutagawa he wasn’t sure, but he opened his mouth obediently, tongue out, while Akutagawa jerked himself off over Atsushi’s face.

Atsushi panted, swallowing what landed on his tongue and licking his lips clean. Akutagawa laughed hoarsely, tilting forward and bracing himself against the headboard again. “You are a mess,” he said, swiping his thumb through a glob that had landed on Atsushi’s cheek and letting him lick his thumb clean. “I’m not kissing you again until you brush your teeth.”

He squirmed under Akutagawa. “Ride me again?” he panted hopefully, and Akutagawa gave him a look, before reaching back and feeling his dick growing hard again in his hand. He squeezed it, none too gently, and Atsushi moaned and rocked his hips.

“You beast,” Akutagawa sniffed, but he was also smirking, and Atsushi bowled his hips up as Atsushi sat on his cock again. “I think I can manage one more ride...”

#bungou stray dogs #kinktober #sskk #shin soukoku #lemony fresh

[fatale-distraction]

Barcus in Distress

Part 2

Part 3

The door creaked open and Barcus looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Wulbren or Philomena. Instead, silhouetted in the doorway, wearing a familiar, mischievous smile, stood Lithe. A quick glance at the guttering candle on his workbench told him it was late; well past a reasonable hour to be paying casual visits.

“Lithe?” he asked as he turned toward her, anxiety spiking in his chest. “Is something the matter?”

She giggled a little and slipped inside, letting the door click shut behind her. “Not at all,” she assured him, approaching and wrapping her arms around him from behind. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck and pressed a kiss to the tense tendon there. Barcus sighed and leaned against her, tilting his head back and letting his eyes drift shut as she knuckled the other side of his neck and kept kissing up to his jaw.

“Oh, that’s nice…” he murmured, feeling the tension slowly draining away as she massaged his shoulders.

“You work too hard, darling,” she whispered against his ear. “Why don’t you put your little tools away and come to bed with me?”

“I…” he looked up at his beautiful lover and furrowed his brows. Her eyes sparkled with mirth, freckled cheeks flushed dark green, her long hair loose from its braids and falling around them in soft, fragrant waves. “I can’t,” he explained, reaching for the beaker he’d been carefully mixing. “This compound has to be fully incorporated or it’ll be useless in the morning. I spent all day on it.”

Lithe gave him an exaggerated pout, her breasts pressing against his back. “Don’t tell me you’d rather sit here and play with your alchemy set than come upstairs and play with me?”

Barcus turned and gave her a stern look. “You’re being very pushy tonight,” he scolded, lifting an eyebrow. “Now, be a good girl and wait for just a few moments.”

Lithe giggled again, nuzzling his neck. “You know I’m not a good girl at all” she purred.

Something prickled at the base of his spine. Barcus glanced up at her again, squinting tired eyes. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Of course,” she said, giving him a queer look. “I’d be better if my favorite little man would put away his toys and come play with me instead, but…” Lithe pouted again, her fingers trailing down his back, breath tickling his ear. “I suppose I can behave. For now.”

Barcus stared at her hard. “Good girl,” he murmured softly, lifting a hand to trace a constellation of freckles on her cheek. She simply smiled and leaned into his touch, turning her head to kiss his palm. Barcus grabbed her chin between a thumb and forefinger and tilted her head down, peering closely at her. Then he stood so abruptly, the bench jostled against the table with a loud screech.

“You’re not Lithe,” he whispered, a rock sinking in his stomach. The smile on the woman’s face split wide, a completely unfamiliar expression on such a familiar face. “Who the hells are you, and what did you do with her?” His voice quaked and caught, but he kept his spine straight and his hands balled into fists, glaring at this strange creature who wore his lover’s skin.

Not-Lithe shook with hideous laughter. “Awww, poor little man is scared,” she cooed, advancing on him with a foreign sinewy grace, backing him up until he hit the wall. “Tell me, you delicious little pebble, what gave it away?”

“She shivers when I call her a good girl,” stammered Barcus. “Every time. And,” he lifted his chin in defiance. “You got her freckles wrong.”

That eerily grinning face dropped into a filthy scowl. “Her FRECKLES wrong?” she repeated in a fury. “Her bloody FRECKLES? I studied her for WEEKS, these freckles couldn’t be more perfect if I had peeled her skin right off her insipid little face!”

“They’re wrong,” Barcus assured her.

The creature growled. Her hand snaked out and seized his throat, fingers digging into his windpipe. Barcus clawed at them in vain, choking and gasping as she lifted him clear off the floor, legs kicking uselessly. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his tongue felt too big for his mouth, sparks firing off behind his lids, and then suddenly he was falling, landing hard on his back, gasping for air.

The creature was laughing. Tearing at Lithe’s face with her nails and shrieking with demented laughter. Her body quaked with it. Her limbs twitched and a rotten meat smell permeated the room. Barcus crawled away from her backwards still breathing hard and fast, unable to tear his eyes away from the blood pouring down her face and splattering at his feet. Not-Lithe moved her bloody hands to cup the top of her head and her chin, grinning at him with a bloodied smile and pale, pale eyes.

“Are you ready to play, little man?” Lithe’s lovely voice purred, before viciously snapping her own neck.

Barcus whimpered nearly fainted. Instead of dropping dead to the floor, the person in front of him had changed. Gone was his pretty little wood elf with hair the color of the forest. Standing in her place was a tall human woman with long, slender curves, impossibly long blonde hair, blind-white eyes and black veins snaking under her pale, pale skin. She was scantily clad in bright red armor, that upon closer inspection seemed to be made entirely of bits of inside out flesh sewn together. Bile rose in Barcus’ throat as she stalked toward him, reaching to pluck him up by the throat. “We’re going to have so much fun…” she hissed, lifting him until their mouths were a mere breath away. A red dagger flashed in his periphery and then, nothing.

#barcus wroot #bg3 #bg3 barcus wroot #baldur's gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 barcus #let’s see who catches on #Lithe Tav #writing down fatalities #don’t worry he’s okay I promise #Lithe is about to lose her gods damned mind it’s fine it’s cool cool cool cool cool

[lightning-of-farosh]

The Tale of a Martyr

something something about how this was gonna be about the struggle of having bad habits born from toxic environments. There was a lot (about 10K to this) but my mental state was not good when i was writing it and it shows. SO! PG version!

“You have a bedroll, don’t you?”

Link—Hyrule, he reminded himself, they’re going to call you Hyrule so you should get used to it—looked up from his pack. “Huh?”

“A bedroll,” Legend said again, not looking up from where he was spreading his own makeshift bedding across his claimed patch of grass. “You have one, right?”

“Um,” Hoisting up his pack, Hyrule opened it the barest amount and shifted through the contents. Hammer, flute, the handy glove, two of those healing dolls, that weird cross, magic key, candle... Pink rose on the back of his neck and he dug further; past tightly bundled blankets, a box of matches, and—finally­—“Yes!” He yanked it from the pack and held it out as if presenting it to the other hero. “I have a bedroll.”

It was covered in lint, crumbs, and dried mud.

Legend’s nose wrinkled at the faint, musty smell that reeked from the cloth. “Have you ever used it?” He said, a faint crackle of a harmless snarl on the edges of his teeth.

“What?”

“Forget it,” Legend shook his head and pointed in the direction of the river. “You should probably wash it to make sure nothing’s growing in it.”

Hyrule looked between his pack now lying at his feet, at the bedroll in his hands, and back at the rest setting up their things.

“Oh for—go,” Legend took him by the elbow and nudged him towards the river. “I’ll watch your stuff.”

(He might have nudged his things closer to the other hero. Legend was kind enough to look at the ratty sack with raised eyebrows but said nothing.)

Foreign birds sung in the trees, reminding him of things that were long gone. A wind that didn’t reek of dark magic and rot made his skin feel raspberry-tender. Hyrule kept looking behind to track where the camp had been and to make sure that this world—this vibrant and bright and alive world—wasn’t swallowed up when he wasn’t looking.

Here was a place untouched by ultraviolet silence.

Here was a place that didn’t have hair-thin fractures in every single one of its bones.

Hyrule paused at the edge of the river and saw an image of himself that was broken not by decay but by fish scales and riverbed pebbles. He set his bedroll to the side and pressed his palm into the water.

It felt cool against his skin, soothing away the aches in his knuckles. “Oh,” he said, laughed, and—in a moment of pure curiosity—sucked it off his fingers.

The water tasted like how the rain felt against his face, like standing on top of the ocean, like the wind and the earth and like nothing at all. Hyrule sat on the bank of the river and put his feet in.  His boots turned into distorted versions of themselves and he stuck his hand beneath the surface to trace their edges with his equally warped hand.

Fish darted away from his shadow, fleeing to deeper waters.

The river snuck into his boots, weighing down his socks and squishing between his toes. Ah, Hyrule thought with the same type of absent remembrance as oh, fire is hot.

He undid his laces, dumped what he could out of the now thoroughly soaked boots, and tossed them and his socks to the side. Cold rushed between his toes and climbed up his ankles. It brushed over the calluses of long-healed blisters and cracked skin.

And was perfect.

Hyrule stood up and almost ended up face first in the mud as slime-slick rocks yanked on his balance. Some broad billed bird made an indignant honking sound at his clumsy splashing and took to the sky. He watched it flutter further downstream and grinned, kicking out and creating a miniature wave in its direction.

Laughter spilled from beyond the trees and he glanced back towards the campsite.

There, still sitting on the bank was his dusty, stained bedroll.

Hyrule looked down at the clear, gurgling water around his ankles.

His sigh was heavy.

#Linked Universe #hyrule linked universe #legend linked universe #fabulist tales #hmmmMM #hmmm.

[mychemicalimagines]

Black Flame Candle-Max Dennison-Chapter 1

Summary: Max Dennison is the new kid in Salem, Massachusetts. On Halloween, his life takes a dramatic turn when his parents force him to take his little sister, Dani, trick-or-treating. He, his crush, Casey Blackstone, and his sister are in for a ride when Max lights the Black Flame Candle.

Series Warnings: Slight Language, Fluff, Flirting, Angst, Supernatural, Paranormal, Canon Deaths, Bullying. This series is a little more adult than the Disney movie.

Words: 3,446

Tag List: Reblogged

A/N: Here it is! Our secret Halloween Story!! We worked so hard to get this out to you for the month of October!! Divider belongs to firefly-graphics. Do you guys like the gifs? Let Me know if you want them to be continued. 

Comments are always welcome! They give me motivation to post!

If you would liked to be tagged, Message Me, Comment, Submit an Ask or Tag Yourself in My Bio!!

Third Person POV

‘It’s all just a bunch of Hocus Pocus.’

Salem, Massachusetts has always been known for its witchcraft allegations as well as for how they handled each case, calling them the Salem Witch Trials. Three centuries ago, hundreds of people were accused, but only a mere thirty were found guilty. Nineteen were hanged due to the false accusations placed upon them, while others died in jail or were pressed to death.  

Thackery Binx found his sister being whisked away by three actual witches, The Sanderson sisters, who needed her for a spell to stay young and beautiful. The same night his sister had passed away, and his disappearance, the three witches were hanged for their witchcraft, but vowed they’d be back. 

Now every Halloween, the entire town goes all out for the festivities. Casey Blackstone has lived in Salem all her life and loves the holiday. It’s the one time of year she can eat as much candy as she wants and no one will bat an eye, well except for her dentist father. She also loves wearing costumes, being someone else besides herself for a night.

Since her family, as well as her friend Allison’s, thinks they are too old to be trick or treating, they are forced to give out candy this year while Allison’s family has a party. Her parents wanted to go to the party at Town Hall but they got sick so they’re staying home. Her costume is already at the Watt’s house, waiting to be put on later that night. 

Sighing to herself as she fixes her hair in the mirror, Casey turns to her black cat that is sitting on her bed watching her.

Due to the holiday and the history they are taught every year, she felt there was only one name fitting for a black cat such as the one she found almost eleven years ago.

“What do you think of today’s outfit, Binx?” She throws her hands out, showing off her purple low-cut shirt as well as her slightly ripped jeans.

Binx meows his response before stepping toward her to rub his face against her hip, causing his collar to clink against the bell she forces him to wear. 

“I like it too.” She smiles and pets his head as she kneels down next to her bed. “Alright, I got to go to school. Remember, don’t bring mice into the house. If you’re going to bring female cats home, make sure it’s not in my room. I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re my best friend and I love you.”

She kisses the top of his head before picking up her bookbag and walking out of the room, not noticing him climbing out of her window as soon as she closes her door a smidge. She wasn’t lying. Her cat was her best friend and she makes sure to tell him everyday, despite him probably not knowing what the hell she’s saying. 

She had found him in her backyard one day, eating a mouse with no collar. It was clear that he belonged to no one, that he was on his own. She knew she had to take him in, after asking her parents of course. Ever since, she’s been feeding him, playing with him and letting him sleep on her bed, cuddled up next to her. 

She even lets him roam free, knowing he’ll come right back home. He’s literally her best friend and she wouldn’t trade him for the world, even if he leaves her surprises on the back porch. After slipping on her shoes and red jacket, she walks out the front door, ready to take on the day.

Max Dennison has only been in town for about a week and a half and he already hates it. He misses the sunny days of California. He misses his friends. Hell, he misses his old house. To him, Salem, Massachusetts is a horrible place to live. It’s gloomy, rainy and far too obsessed with this witchy, Halloween stuff.

It was never his favorite holiday to begin with so moving to a town that is all for it irritates him. He can’t wait to move once he turns eighteen next year. The only thing good about this town is this one girl. On Max’s first day of school earlier this week, he caught sight of a beautiful girl. Blonde hair. These crystal blue eyes that remind him of the ocean back home. 

He’s never even spoken a word to her and he’s already hooked. He rubs his eyes as he walks to his final class of the day. History. The third class he has with the girl he has his eyes on. Seeing her will make this boring class worth it. He sits down in his assigned seat and pulls out his notebook, unsure of what they will be learning today. 

As he opens his notebook, he glances up at a soft giggle that enters his ears. There she is. The purple shirt she’s wearing really brings out her eyes, and he’s really trying hard not to look down a smidge. As she walks by him, he quickly looks down at his notebook, not wanting to be caught watching her.

 Since she sits in the row next to him, but one seat behind, he can easily get caught by the teacher, or hell, another student! Maybe today, he’ll finally talk to her…yeah, probably not going to happen. As class starts, their teacher, Miss Olin who is dressed as a witch, begins telling the legend of the Sanderson Sisters. 

The very legend that Casey got her cat's name from. Even though she knows every bit of the legend, she’s listening closely, hoping to hear something different but she never does. Max, however, is doodling in his notebook, not believing one ounce of the story. 

“Poor Thackery Binx. Neither his father, his mother, nor anyone else ever knew what became of him…those 300 years ago.” Miss Olin says, walking up an aisle before stopping in front of the classroom. “And so the Sanderson Sisters were hanged by the Salem townsfolk. Now, there are those who say that on Halloween night…a black cat still guards the old Sanderson house, warning off any who might make the witches…come back to life!”

She then throws a black ribbon attached to her hand at a girl’s face causing the teenage girl to scream in fright. The rest of the students in the room, besides Max, laugh at her scream. Max shakes his head in disbelief as he doodles.

“Give me a break.” He mumbles, moving his pen along the letters he drew.

“Aha, we seem to have a skeptic in our midst.” Miss Olin raises an eyebrow as she steps toward his desk. “Mr. Dennison, would you care to share your California, laid-back, tie-dyed point of view?”

The room erupted into laughter again at her sarcasm. He looks up at her after glancing around the room and smirks, gaining some courage. 

“Okay. Granted that, uh, you guys here in Salem are all into these, uh, black cats and witches and stuff…”

Miss Olin cuts him off with a scoff while the rest of the room let him know that his words were unneeded by their tones of displeasure. 

“Stuff?”

“Fine. But everyone here knows that Halloween was invented by the candy companies. It’s a conspiracy.” He finishes, smirking at his teacher. 

 A voice speaks up, capturing Max’s attention. He turns toward the voice and his cheeks redden a bit at who is talking. It’s her…

“It just so happens that Halloween is based on the ancient feast called All Hallows Eve. It’s the one night of the year where the spirits of the dead can return to earth.” She explains, giving the teenager her own smirk. 

The class breaks out into cheers and claps at her comment, happy to prove the new kid wrong with his non-beliefs and crappy theories. He turns back to his notebook and flips to a new paper, quickly jotting something down, a small smile on his face as he keeps his courage. 

“Well said, Casey.” Miss Olin says, smiling widely at her, clapping herself.

She grins to herself and high fives Allison who is sitting right behind the non-believer. Max stands up from his chair as his classmates talk around him. He takes a few steps toward her desk, capturing her attention. 

“Well, in case Jimi Hendrix shows up tonight, here’s my number.” He says, holding out the piece of paper.

She raises an eyebrow, ignoring her classmates groans, and takes the single sheet before opening it up. ‘Max Dennison 555-9142’ it reads. The bell rings and Casey stands up from her chair, giving the boy a small smirk as she puts the number in her pocket. He smiles at her actions before watching her walk away.

“Max.” A boy that sat behind her captures his attention. “Fat chance.”

The new kid just rolls his eyes and gathers his stuff up, ready to go home. Casey quickly stops at her locker, making sure to grab her jacket while sticking all her books in the metal container. Since Halloween is such a big holiday in Salem, the school doesn’t give out homework if it lands on a weekend such as today. 

As she puts her notebook away, she notices a pen sitting on the top shelf. Smirking to herself, she pulls out Max’s number and rips the paper, jotting something down on one half. Shoving one piece into her jeans pocket and the other, along with the pen, into her jacket pocket, she hangs her bookbag on the hook and closes the door. 

Casey then jogs out to the front doors, meeting up with Allison as she glances around the parking lot. 

“So did he really give you his number?” Allison asks, fixing her bag that rests on her shoulder as they walk down the sidewalk. 

“He did.” She nods, smiling softly to herself as she plays with the paper in her jacket pocket.

“And are you going to call him?” Her friend raises an eyebrow.

“If I do, it won't be till…”

“Casey!” 

The blonde turns around and sees the new kid on his bike, riding toward her. She looks at her best friend and gestures down the road.

“I’ll catch up.”

Allison raises an eyebrow at the brunette haired boy before nodding at her friend. Casey turns back around and watches as Max stops his bike beside her, panting very softly as he straddles his seat. 

“Hi.” She says, smiling slightly at him. 

“Hi. Look, uhh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you in class.” He says, regretting his actions. 

He thought about it on his way to his bike. He shouldn’t have done that. What if she hates him now? What if she never wants to see him again? He practically humiliated her in front of their entire class. 

“You didn’t.” She shrugs, not caring one bit about the awkward exchange that happened. 

If anything, she’s the one that embarrassed him in front of the entire class by proving him wrong. He pauses for a moment, unsure of what to say so he lets go of his handlebars and holds his hand out to her. 

“My name is Max Dennison.” He says, despite having practically told her through his note.

“Yeah, I know.” She says, shaking his hand. “You just moved here, huh?”

“Yeah, last week.” He says, not wanting to think about how soft her hands were compared to his. 

“Must be a big change for you.” She says, letting go of his hand to put her own back into her jacket pocket. 

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” He says, scoffing slightly, gripping his handlebars again.

“You don’t like it here?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, the leaves are great…” He says, gesturing around them. “But - I - I don’t know. Just all this Halloween shit.”

“You don’t believe in it?” She asks, pushing her hip out slightly as she rests most of her body weight on one leg, not caring about his language.

“What? Do you mean, like The Sanderson Sisters?” He shakes his head with a light chuckle escaping his lips. “No way.”

“Not even on Halloween?” She asks, biting her lip softly, trying to hide her amusement.

“Especially not on Halloween.” He says, putting emphasis on the beginning of his sentence with a smile.

Casey licks the inside of her cheek before reaching into her pocket. Holding up two fingers with a piece of paper sitting between them, she gently pulls Max’s left hand off his handlebars. He opens his hand, watching her movements, praying that his cheeks aren’t turning red at her actions. She presses the piece of paper into his hand, smiling as she looks up at him as she closes his hand around it. 

“Trick or treat.”

Letting his hand go, she turns around and starts walking toward where Allison is waiting, talking to another friend of theirs. Max’s eyes watch her before looking down at the folded paper. His heart is pounding in his chest as he moves to open the paper.

“Max!” He hears her call out for him, causing his head to snap up. “Call me Cas.”

Not knowing what to say, he nods at her words, watching her walk away again. This time, she turns around and puts up her red hood, making it look like she was wearing a witch’s pointed hat. He bites his lip and looks back down at the piece of paper. Swallowing the small amount of spit in his mouth, he unfolds the paper. 

The first thing that caught his eye was that the top half was ripped off, meaning…she kept his number! He smiles softly before looking at the words written. ‘Casey Blackstone. 555-????. No tricks, Max. Earn your treat.’ with a smiley face. The smile drops from his face for a moment before it shows up again. 

She didn’t give him her full number, but by the way she wrote this note, she might plan on giving it to him later! Hell, if she did keep his number, is she going to call him later? He looks back up toward the direction his blonde crush was walking to see her in the distance, walking with her friend. He bites the inside of his lip before putting the note into his pocket.

“What was that about?” Allison asks, glancing over her shoulder to see Max pedaling away on his bike.

“Oh, nothing.” Casey grins as she walks. “Just apologizing for embarrassing me in class.”

“Oh!” She nods before squealing softly. “Anyway! My mom said your costume will go great with ours.”

“Do I really have to be a peasant while your whole family, as well as their friends, are wearing  Masquerade outfits?” She groans slightly.

“She said there were only two dresses so she had to get you something else.” Allison says, shrugging.

“I knew I should have gotten the bunny costume when I had the chance.” Casey mumbles, walking down the road.

Max is ready to go back home to California. Today has been one of the worst days of his entire life. First, he embarrasses his crush in class. She said he didn’t, but he knows he did. Then he was stopped at the graveyard by two wanna-be rapper bullies, Jay and Ernie. Sorry, Ice - not Ernie. Lastly, they took his brand new shoes! 

His shoes! What jerks take someone else’s shoes? He had to pedal all the way back home in just his socks. It was so humiliating. He parks his bike next to the house and practically stomps up the stairs to the back door. Slamming the screen door open, he opens the wooden door that leads to the kitchen to see his mom and dad putting away items from their move. 

“Hey, Max!” His mom says, smiling at him. “Hey, how was school?”

“It fucking sucked.” He says, leaving the door open as he makes his way through the room. 

“Hey, hey, hey, watch your language.” His dad says, standing up from the floor.

He ignores him and starts walking up the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. 

“I can’t believe you made me move here!” He calls down before walking to his door. 

He slams his head against the wood, next to his name plate that he put there, causing his hat to bunch up. He sighs and smacks the door with the side of his fist. Taking a second to himself, he opens the door and throws his book bag onto the floor near to his drum set. He rips his hat off his head and throws it against the stairs in his room that leads to the window seat above. 

He shakes off his jacket as he walks and tosses it to the ground behind him. Trying to calm himself down, he sighs deeply as he looks out the window before glancing down at the fish tank he has beside his bed. He picks up their container of food.

“Hey, guys.” He says, leaning down to sprinkle some into the water. 

He puts the flakes down before sitting on his bed, laying back into the pillows. There was one good thing about today, though. She talked to him! He rolls away from his fish tank and grabs one of his extra pillows, cuddling it to his chest. He grins to himself as he thinks about her. Her voice. Her hair. Her smile…

“Oh, Cas.” He mumbles, smiling as he closes his eyes, imaging her right beside him. “You’re so soft. I just wanna hug…”

His closet doors slam open as a child's voice is heard.

“Boo!”

He jumps slightly, looking over his shoulder as he lets his pillow go. 

“Dani!” He snaps at his little sister who was hiding in his room. 

She laughs and squeals in victory as she claps, knowing she scared him. She runs toward him, still laughing and jumps over him to lay down. He sits up, raising an eyebrow at her as all his anger from the day comes back. 

“I scared you, I scared you!” She leans up so she’s close to his face. “Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Ha!”

He shakes his head but before he can speak, she lays back and throws her arms out, a smile still on her face.

“I’m Cas! Cas! Kiss me, I’m Cas!”

Embarrassed that his sister caught him daydreaming about his crush, he stands up and looks at her. 

“Mom and dad told you to stay out of my room!”

“Don’t be such a crab.” She says, standing up on his mattress before jumping up and down. “Guess what. You’re taking me trick-or-treating.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Not this year, Dani.”

“Mom said you have to.” Dani says, jumping off his bed, landing on her feet beside him. 

“Well, she can take you.” He says, turning to walk away. 

She grabs him by his sleeve and pulls him back.

“She and dad are going to a party at Town Hall.”

“Well, you’re eight! Go by yourself.” He says, pulling his shirt from her hand and walking to his drum set. 

He sits down as he grabs his sticks and immediately begins to play a beat, ignoring his sister as he closes his eyes. She sighs with a determined look on her face and walks over to him. 

“No way! This is my first time! I’ll get lost! Besides, it’s a full moon outside! The weirdos are out!” Noticing he isn’t backing down, Dani walks around the drum set to wrap her arms around her older brother’s shoulders forcing him to stop playing. “Come on, Max. Couldn’t you forget about being a cool teenager just for one night? Please…Come on. We used to have so much fun together trick-or-treating. Remember? It’ll be like old times.”

He shrugs her off and shakes his head. If he was going to willingly take her, that just ruined her chances.

“No. The old days are dead.” He says, beginning to play the same beat again. 

Dani puts her hands on her hips and glares at him. 

“It doesn’t matter what you say. You’re taking me!”

He instantly stops and looks at her, the same glare on his own face. 

“Wanna bet?”

He drops his sticks onto the Floor Tom drum and jumps up from his seat. He runs up the small flight of stairs, skipping a few steps and sits at the top, near the window seat, crossing his arms on his knees. His little sister stomps toward the stairs before putting her hands on her hips again. 

“MOM!!!!” She screams loudly.

#max dennison love story #max dennison fanfiction #max dennison x original female character #max dennison x original character #max dennison imagines #max dennison imagine #max dennison x reader #hocus pocus love story #hocus pocus fanfiction #hocus pocus

[posallys]

happy birthday to my best boy percy 💙 i love you and here's an unfinished posally fic in honor of this special day <3

---

They’re on a hospital bed, one of Poseidon’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into him, and his other carefully cradling a blue bundle. 

He brings the bundle closer and presses his lips to their baby’s head, muttering a few words in a language she doesn’t understand.

But she doesn’t need to understand his words to know what to look in his eyes means, to know what the soft smile on his face means, to know what the way he held Percy protectively means. 

He wants to stay. He wants to be here, in a hospital room beside her, holding their child—that much is clear enough. He would not be here if he didn't want to be.

But she doesn't know why he's here. He should be long gone by now, tucked away beneath the surf. He should not be here, in this room, an arm around her while he holds their child with his other. He should be doing a million other things right now, and yet he's choosing them.

She can't think of a reason for him to stay—she'd known from the beginning he was never supossed to— but for now, knowing that he wants to be here is enough. This is supposed to be a happy day; she wants it to stay that way in her memories. 

Poseidon readjusts Percy in his arms, smiling down at his son.

; 

The golden sunlight that flooded through the hospital windows fades into the tumbling leaves of autumn, and she still doesn’t know why. 

There’s snow falling outside, blanketing the sand in a layer of white, and she still doesn’t know why. 

The snow melts, leaving flowers to grow in its absence, and she still doesn’t know why. 

And then he’s handing Percy a present, a box with a little blue bow. The small cake she made is sitting on the coffee table, a candle number one on top of it. 

A year. It’s been a year, and yet she hasn’t been able to figure out why he’s still here. The words spill from her lips before she bites them back. 

“Why are you still here?”

Poseidon’s eyes stay on Percy for a moment longer before he looks over at her, but when he does his eyes are clouded with confusion. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Sally leans back into the couch bringing a hand to rub her temples. “Because you shouldn’t be.”

He’s still on the floor looking up at her, but he purses his lips and grabs her hand. 

“I’ve done a lot of things I shouldn’t have.”

Despite herself, the corners of her lips pull up. “Oh, I know.”

He offers her a small smile in return. “What I mean is that just because I shouldn’t doesn’t mean I can’t.”

And there’s an implication laced through his words. I’m staying, he says. 

But Poseidon is not meant to be bottled in being or nature. He does not belong here, in this house, in this room. He does not belong here, with her, with their son. 

The sea does not like to be restrained and neither does its ruler, but what happens if it confines itself willingly? 

It can’t, she thinks. He cannot stay here, in a body that could pass for a mortal. He is too big, and it’s only a matter of time before he outgrows it. Not yet, perhaps, but he will. 

And she hates him. She hates him for pretending that he can stay, for pretending that he’s supposed to be here, a mortal man, small and insignificant. 

“We both know you can’t stay.”

She does not say it for herself; it is a truth she has acknowledged from the moment his name tumbled from his lips and she knew, this—this is going to burn. 

And it does. It burns in the best and worst kind of way. It burns like the sun, trails of fire blazing across her skin, and it burns like smoke, the realization that you won’t be able to breathe until you’re away from the flames.

Poseidon does not shy away from her words. He leans forward. “I can.” 

His eyes are sure, steady, challenging, and it’s her confirmation. It is the look of the god of the sea, the look of a god that does not like being told what he can and cannot do. He is no more a mortal than she is a god.

He can’t stay, but she knows he’ll try. 

She knows what she’ll have to do—eventually, but not right now. Not when he pulls Percy onto his lap and lights the birthday candle, and smiles at her while he starts singing to their son. 

Someday soon, though, she’ll have to do it. She’ll have to say the words and she knows that he’ll listen, because he’s never been good at telling her no. 

The sea does not like to be restrained, she knows, and it is only fair that she lets him go. 

#happy birthday to my best boy <3 #this isn't edited and i might eventually go back and finish this fic #but for now i think that this is all that's going to happen #taylor tries to write #posally #fic: eventually #pjo fic #percy jackson #sally jackson #poseidon #pjo poseidon

[starshooter-1004]

Namor - The Ocean Calls 8

@

Masterlist

Taglist: @alinefrank @deliciousfestsalad @couldnt-come-up-with-a-username @omgsuperstarg @lunamoonbby

The next morning I woke up early, quickly got dressed and went to the library. I wanted to clear my head and have peace and quiet before the others wake up. I lit a candle walking over to my reading corner; Idris had gifted me blankets. They were a beautiful shade of ocean blue with pearls woven on the ends of the blanket. I wrapped myself in the blanket sitting on the chair with my knees to my chest. 

I closed my eyes as the air was calm and quite easing my mind. I sat in silence for some time picturing my old life again. I missed the surface feeling the sun on my skin and the ocean breeze. Everything down here was cold and stiff, isolating at times. I sometimes found myself aimlessly walking the twisting caverns when I’m bored. 

I would frequently ask to go into the city just for a change of scenery; but orders are without Namor I wasn’t allowed. Sometimes I wondered if Namor would ever fully trust me to roam his city without him. My mind then went to my mother and brother a frown falling on my face. I wonder what words of wisdom they would bestow on me during this time. I missed my brother he was my rock, my comedic relief on a bad day, the light on my grey days. 

The day we lost him I lost a piece of myself I buried a piece of me with him that day. My mother was never right after that she became cold and distant. She refused to speak about my brother so the topic was never brought up. I was isolated in my own grief; my mother shutting me out. My ex boyfriend abandoning me at my lowest and the people I called friend going MIA. Thats when I turned to my sunset trips to the ocean; the sound of the waves swallowed my curses and screams. I felt like a piece of me belonged; the breeze swaying me and soothing me to calm.

I always wondered if my brother was at peace; is there truly a place our souls live in? I badly wish to hug him again and tell him everything about this place. Hear his voice and laugh again. Suddenly a thud sounded a floor above me between one of the isles. I looked above only seeing darkness; grabbing the candle and blanket I made my way up. 

They're on the ground was a book on the geographical makeup of the Atlantic. Picking it up it was opened and settled on a chapter about the caverns deep in the ocean. The winding tunnels and their exits and entrances for the currents to rip through. I sat on the floor putting the book on my knees as I read; the cavern described was similar to this one.There was a way to the surface here, and if I could get away for a hour I may be able to find it. Tucking the book in the blanket I raced down the stairs to the door. Opening it I ran into Idris she jumped startled.

“My lady?” She asked. Her eyes went to the opening in the blanket spying the book; I quickly pulled the blanket over. She looked back up at me, her eyes told me she suspected but she did not pry. 

“I was just heading back to my hut for a morning read,” I said walking toward the stairs.

“I see… I will have tea made up for you,” she said. We made our way down and parted ways; entering my hut I checked behind me to see where Idris was. The moment I saw I was alone I quickly lifted the mattress tucking the book beneath it and grabbing my suit. Placing it inside of my dress on my back I would be able to wear it in secret. A knock was heard at door and Idris entered with a small tray with only one cup of tea. She walked over placing it onto my table.

“Are you not joining me today?” I asked a bit disappointed.

“Unfortunately not, Ku’Uk’Ulkan wanted me to assist with the princess and her guest,” she held the tray flat against her now. 

“Oh.. I see,” I looked down at the cup of tea. 

“Yes, so that would mean you get the day alone and unsupervised for a while,” I looked up at her.

“I heard that the currents have been gentler in its traveling speed the last few days. Almost relaxing to roam down,” she looked at me. She smiled turning to walk out the door without a word.

“Idris?” I called out. She turned toward me.

“Thank you.. for everything you’ve really been the only friend I’ve had here,” she smiled.

“This isn’t a goodbye y/n just the beginning,” she winked. She turned back to the door exiting my hut disappearing into the cavern. 

“She said my name…” I spoke to myself. I got up walking to my mattress pulling the book out; inside the bookmarked page was a map of the cavern tunnels. I grabbed a piece of paper and traced the map onto it. Once completed I placed it back between the mattress folding it and placing into my belt sash. 

Walking over to the door I took a deep breathe glancing at the bracelet. If Namor’s mother was still here would she understand? Didn’t she yearn to be on the beach again? I left my hut heading to the pool; no one was around must be preoccupied with Namor and Princess Shuri. Reaching behind me I activated my suit and jumped into the water. Swimming forward some feet I pulled my map out examining the tracings. Instead of taking the current used for the city I swim farther to find a separate opening. 

Folding the paper back into my belt I followed the direction. After swimming for a period of time I noticed the algae on the rocks here shined brighter and clustered together more. Looking up into the winding tunnel I managed to find bubbles gathering; I must be getting close. A wave of excitement went through me as I quickly swam toward the light. Suddenly breaking out of the water I gasped; a happy laugh leaving me. I looked around seeing a beach with tall brush in it’s gathering. I swam toward the shore deactivating me suit once I was knee deep into the shore tide. 

I stood there smiling taking a deep breath of the fresh air; the sun felt warm against my skin. It felt like ages since my skin felt this tingle of the sun's warmth. I laid out into the sand not caring if it’s graining texture bothered certain places on me. Shaking the sand from my hair I sat up looking out into the horizon. Beautiful though I’m not so sure what beach I’m exactly on. I suddenly heard voices from a distance behind me. I quickly ducked into the tall grass; I scanned the beach finding no one until I heard a familiar voice. My body froze as the horror set in; did he know I left? Was he here to punish me and drag me back to the depths of the cavern? 

I slowly crawled through the brush and spotted two figures one indeed being Namor but the other… Queen Ramonda? I laid on my stomach holding my breath trying to make as minimal noise as possible. I couldn’t make the conversation only bits and pieces. 

“Is there anything I can offer you?” Queen Ramonda remarked. Namor smirked and shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said. He suddenly went serious stepping close to the Queen whispering something to her. He then turned leaving the Queen on the beach; he shoulders slumped. She seemed distraught was Shuri’s presence there not planned between them? Maybe… I overstepped my bounds last night with my comment. 

I decided to head back to the cavern before the entirety of Namor and his generals sent a search party. What would come of Idris if they found out she left me alone? I had a bad feeling and decided to hurry back; upon surfacing back in the cavern I watched commotion. I quickly pulled myself out and deactivated my suit before standing. I saw Namor and Namora standing and the feet of a pair of slippers I recognized. My heart sank and I ran toward them.

“Idris!?” I saw her on the ground. Gasping for air as her hand covered a wound on her stomach. I knelt next to her my hand covering hers tears pricking my eyes.

“Idris… Hang in there we, we can help you,” I looked toward Namor. He closed his eyes looking away from Idris. A sobbed escaped her as she placed her free hand over mine. 

“It’s ok… I’ll be with the ancestors soon,” she coughed and I held her hand tighter.

“Don’t talk like that, you can’t leave me,” tears fell from my eyes. She smiled touching my face.

“It was a honor to serve you In Reina,” Idris voice was low and faltering. Namor hold Idris’s face having her look at him; her chest fell and didn’t rise in her next breathe. 

“Taan Kiimil?” Namora spoke. 

“Je’el,” Namor replied. Namor ran his hand down her eyes closing them. A sob left me as I cradled her face in my hands her body turning cold. Her hand in mine going limp; this is all my fault. Namora began to angrily speak to Namor, Namor then stood up cold and emotionless. I looked up at him as I cried he didn’t look at me as he turned. 

“Ready the people and prepare my royal attire,” Namor commanded. Everyone around me began to scurry going to start each task given. I sat there next to Idris as everyone ignored.

“Namor!” I shouted standing; Idris’s blooded staining the bottom of my gown. I stood there fists clenched as tears ran down my face. Namor turned at my town looking at me. 

“She’s dead… Idris is dead! And now I’m alone!” I cried out. Namor waved his hand to the servant next to him as they tried placing his cape onto his shoulders. He walked over to me placing his hands on my face wiping my tears with his thumbs. 

“I will avenge her Ni Yakunaj, I swear to you I will,” he kissed my head. He rubbed his thumbs down my cheeks before walking away the servants following closely behind. Namora stood to the side watching me with a scowl; she then turned diving into the water with her spear.

#namor imagine #namor x reader #namor x you #namor fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel #avengers imagines #k'uk'ulkan of talokan #talokan

[jawllines]

Miss Jaws!!! Don't forget to post the mechanicrry check in!!! Xxxx

HERE YOU GO!!

i.

Harry is a gentle soul. 

He doesn’t look like it, with a permanent displeased look that is constantly set into his face even when he’s not upset with anything. And he doesn’t really act like it either, straightforward with people almost to a fault and very rarely second-guessing the first response that comes to his mind when asked a question – even if it doesn’t sound very kind. Honestly, on the outside, Harry is still the very same man that she met when her car stalled on the side of the road; reserved and a little quiet, and sometimes he’s looking at her and she wonders if he wants her to shut up or not (sometimes she’ll slowly trail off if he isn’t looking at her because she assumes he isn’t listening, but he gives a disgruntled hum and says, “Why did you stop? Keep going.”). 

But inside he’s always so soft and warm. He’s got a tender heart that’s full of such immense love, he just isn’t the best at verbally displaying it. It’s clear in his actions though — when he grabs ahold of her waist to pull her closer in stores, how he dips his face into the curve of her throat when they’re in the kitchen, when he silently demands that she sit in his lap when they’re on the couch and she’s far away. He’s much more physical than she would have guessed — twice as physical as when they were just fucking around with each other. Y/N wondered if he ever wanted to do this when they were just friends with benefits, or if he’s only filled with such affection because he’d realized he had feelings for her. 

She doesn’t know and she thinks she really doesn’t care, because she gets it now and she’s happy with that. 

Harry also kisses a lot; anytime her lips aren’t occupied talking, he takes a chance to smear them together, even just for a peck. If it can’t be her lips, then he’ll kiss her cheek, her forehead, the corner of her eyebrow, the curve of her jaw. If he’s in a particular mood sometimes he’ll give her a gentle kiss to her knuckles first, then each individual tip of her finger. 

Y/N isn’t sure what it is that encourages these sudden and expressive amounts of affection. One moment Harry is sitting at her kitchen table, using the side of his fork to cut into a waffle and the next he’s grabbing her by the thigh and pulling her into him. Without a word, he’ll press a kiss to wherever his mouth can reach from that position, pats her hip, then turns back to his food and sends her off. 

He had made a habit of staying over at her flat when he was off if she had to work that day, and she always came home to her flat cleaned up of any clutter, the trash taken out, and a candle lit with either dinner made or on its way. Typically he and Strudel were waiting for her on the couch, his legs kicked up, the small kitten snuggled up and sleeping peacefully on his chest, and he’s scrolling on his phone. When he sees that she’s stepped into the room, he does something that surprised her almost more than him saying he had feelings for her – and that is looking over to where she stood, puckering his lips and holding out his arm for her. He’d stay like that until she made her way over, and when Y/N crouched down onto her knees so she could give him his kiss, he’d nose his way to the side of her head and hold her there for a second. 

“How was your day?” He’d inquire, which meant that he would sit and let her ramble on and on and on about what happened – if there was any drama between coworkers she was talking his ear off about it. Once she finished, she’d ask him how his day was (sometimes still in the position she started out in, sat on her knees beside the couch while he was gazing at her, stroking hair from her face or rubbing at her shoulder lazily), and he’d hum, “Was fine,” with a shrug, “Strudel and I hung out, waited for you to come home. Read a bit of that book on your desk.” 

“Oh? Did you like it?” 

“It was alright. I finished it.” 

The cutest thing though, of everything that he’d shown her of himself and what it was like to date him, was how dependent he’d become on cuddling to sleep. Y/N had never envisioned him as someone who particularly wanted to snuggle, whether it be after sex or just in general – he always seemed more like the type to curl in on himself at the opposite end of the bed and hog the blankets. But from the very first time he’d held onto her, they so easily melted into each other. It felt so natural, and she soon finds that this is just what Harry liked to do – he liked to hold her. . .sometimes he’d let her hold him, but for the most part he liked to cling onto her. Sort of like she was a big teddy, curling her up tight in his arms, worming his legs between hers and getting comfortable pressed to her. 

He’d fall asleep so quickly too – a minute or two goes by and she hears him snoring. That makes sense though, considering he has a very labor intensive job at times, even if he’s the boss he’s usually under the cars or popping a hood several times throughout the day. He’s lugging heavy engines around, and cranking stripped screws and melded bolts from random parts of cars that are often overlooked and not well taken care of. Y/N would probably knock out in a few seconds flat too. 

But something she’d noticed, at least relatively recently, was that he only really knocked out that quick when she was in bed with him. If Y/N decides to shower, he’ll say he’ll meet her snuggled up in her covers and he gives a preemptive “goodnight” with every intent on falling asleep before she gets out. And while he is waiting for her in bed, he’s usually on his phone or watching the telly or quietly playing with Strudel and one of her toys. Just as soon as Y/N crawls into bed beside him, he stops what he’s doing, rolls over to her, cuddles close and then falls right to sleep. 

It makes her feel so warm. . .everything about Harry, actually, makes her feel so warm and soft. She could hardly believe this was the same man who scared the shit out of her the first time they met – the same one who barely muttered a reply because he couldn’t be arsed to. Y/N is more than happy with the outcome. 

Harry still gets a bit jealous when it comes to certain things but it never ends up in a fight, or feeling weirdly toxic and possessive. If anything it feels like when a dog gets mad that a puppy is getting attention – he huffs and pouts in his very indifferent, glare-y kind of way that he does. He’d never pulled her away from a conversation abruptly like he’d done with Oliver but he does stand nearer to her, sometimes with an arm over her shoulder, sometimes just fussing over her like he wants people to know that she’s his to fuss over. Like pulling a fuzz off her shirt or patting down a part of her hair in disarray – whenever she looks at him when he’s doing it, he always has a small smile and it’s definitely hard not to return it, even a little bit. 

He still disliked Oliver though, with a burning passion, even more so since he’d told Harry that Niall and Y/N were canoodling and fucking and whatnot, getting him all worked up over nothing. Which made Y/N wonder if it was the best idea ever to invite Harry to the office party they were having (a “beginning of summer” party they do in a desperate attempt to raise morale, because summers are typically their busiest and most stressful time of year). They hadn’t been around each other since then and Y/N didn’t want Oliver to come over and bug Harry like he seemed to be keen on doing. . .

. . .but selfishly, she didn’t want to go to this work party by herself. Niall was out of town so he wouldn’t be attending, and she really didn’t have an excuse not to go. So she invites Harry, who tilted his head at her, “Are outsiders allowed to join?” 

“It’s not a cult, Harry, everyone brings their partners. Please don’t feel pressured to, I feel bad that you’d have to waste an hour or two of your evening and this isn’t evening and you don’t even work there, so like – I just don’t want you to feel like you –” 

“Then of course I’ll come,” he replied, cutting her off before she could spiral into another two hundred words, “If you want me somewhere, I’ll be there.” 

It’s at the end of the work day, so Harry meets her there. He was just getting out of the shop around the time so Y/N told him not to bother going back to get dressed, since most of the other women’s boyfriend’s show up in jeans and a t-shirt anyway. And Harry appears in the olive green jumper, the top few buttons undone. He managed to evade any oil spills on it today so the fabric was clean and bright, and complimented his skin nicely. The sleeves were rolled up, so she could see his watch snuggled on his left wrist, and all his tattoos on his forearm on full display. His hair was down, the curls spilled over his ears and he held the same impassive look on his face as he strolled up to her in the parking garage. 

Harry was beautiful – she’s always known he’s beautiful, but sometimes it just really smacks her in the face how gorgeous he is. Why he wanted to be with her, she couldn’t even possibly begin to describe, but she’s glad all the same. 

“Hi, Pup,” he murmured, pulling her into his body, pushing a kiss to the side of her head, “Point out those fuckers that made you cry and I’ll tell them what I think of them, the fucking jokes.” 

Her eyes widened, because she really hadn’t thought he remembered that, and she really needed him not to remember that – but there was a certain gleam in his eye that suggested he remembered it quite well, “That was so long ago Harry,” she laughed breathlessly, lying her hands on his chest and patting him there, “We’ve already kind of made up and I don’t need you picking a fight with them during an office party at the office of all places. Wait until we all go out for drinks at least.” 

He didn’t seem all too pleased, “At least point them out.” 

“You’ll just glare at them all night if I do.” 

“And what’s wrong with that?” 

Y/N laughed again, and moved to kiss his cheek, “Thank you for coming tonight,” she told him, turning around to lead him to the elevator, “You’re the best.” 

“You’re welcome, Puppy,” she heard his keys jingle as they slid them into his pocket, “I’ll play nice for you.” 

He was in a good mood, and they were official now, so Y/N didn’t expect him to get jealous at all. 

And he didn’t. . .actually, Y/N was the one who got jealous.

ii.

Y/N isn’t normally the type to get jealous. 

Well, actually that’s a lie. What she should say is that she’s not normally obvious about when she’s jealous. She’s pretty good at pretending to be nonplussed by whatever is happening in front of her and was often praised for how well she handled situations that other people may take to the extreme. The truth of it was, that all of that shit was an act – if she saw something that would make a normal person jealous, then chances are she was seething, bubbling with anger just beneath the surface. But half the time she knew she probably didn’t have the right to be jealous (or she knew she was misinterpreting the situation), so she would eventually let these feelings flutter out into nothing. 

It was harder to do that with Harry though; for some reason, when it was happening, she could feel it boil in her bones and she’s certain it shows all over her face. 

Because Harry is beautiful – he’s attractive and Y/N forgets that she’s not the only person that thinks that. Once they walk off the elevator and onto her floor, it feels as if they were immediately flooded with attention – or less so Y/N was, as Harry was, people migrating over to him naturally, a soft smile that she doesn’t think she’s even see from any of these guys on their mouths. The men and women alike both seemed to be enamored with him, and Harry was entertaining conversation rather than silently looming near her as she expected. Which is good, she guesses, but she found that she might have preferred the silent looming, especially when a few gorgeous and single coworkers decide to spark up a chat with him. 

Harry must have noticed almost immediately. Now that she thinks about it, he had suddenly slung his arm over her shoulder and pulled her very close to him.  He was never very far from her, at most he would disappear to grab them a drink or something but he always came back relatively quickly. He’d rub her shoulder, give her a squeeze, and had even pulled her away at some point to ask her if she was doing okay. 

And she was – really, she wasn’t a baby, she could handle a few of her coworkers, both male and female, clearly pulling out the stops on Harry when she was clearly standing right there and had introduced him as her boyfriend. Wherever they go, it is typical that Harry is flirted with in some capacity; that’s what happens when you’re easy on the eyes. Whether it was played into really depended on the person, and since it was Harry, he would make it very clear, in his straightforward and incredibly curt way – that he wasn’t in the least bit interested. 

A few weeks ago when they were out for drinks, someone had come up to Harry when Y/N had ran to order Harry another frozen margarita (he’d bought the first three rounds so Y/N felt it was only fair that she at least get one for him – he told her one was all he’d allow, because he didn’t want to take her money but she would definitely be buying them food afterward). She had come around for the tail end of the conversation, which involved an incredibly disgruntled Harry staring at the bloke with furrowed brows, “I’m not fucking with you or your girlfriend,” he responded, “You waited until my girl left to come and ask me, so you know we’re together. I wouldn’t go behind her back to do something like that.” 

The man held up his hands defensively, “She’s invited too! We could have a good time.” 

“Why would I want either of your hands anywhere near her? I’m not interested and neither is she so bugger off.”

Defeated, the man slunk away back to wherever he’d emerged from while Y/N settled Harry’s drink in front of him. “Why do these blokes always wanna watch me fuck their girlfriends and wives? I don’t get it.” 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, “Dunno’ they’re probably swingers, babe, and you’re hot – you’re like. . .right up their alley of people they’d probably want to watch fuck someone.” 

This did little to soothe the furrow in his brow, “Doesn’t make any sense,” he pulled the drink closer to his mouth, “The thought of sharing you with anyone pisses me off. Can’t believe anyone would do that willingly.” 

That’s how he always was when someone came to flirt, he was firm and almost acted disgusted that they would think to flirt with him while he was with her (which, she guesses most men don’t make a big deal about being flirted with in front of their partners and somehow try to make them seem like the crazy one for being upset when something like that happened  – so this was a surprising switch up in comparison to other things she’s witness and experienced). And unknowingly, that had given her an intense sense of comfort in some ways – a sense of comfort that she had never known before in situations like this. 

Growing up, Y/N was always so convinced that if there was a choice between her and someone or something else, then she would be left for the coyotes to nibble on. She never imagined herself to be someone’s first choice, but Harry made it completely transparent that she was the only person he was interested in. Even when she started thinking that maybe he was just putting on a bit of a show for her when he did that, Adam told her that he was doing it while they hung out too. All but rolled his eyes at anyone who thought they might have a chance. 

He wasn’t doing that today though. It wasn’t like he was playing into it either, but he wasn’t brushing them off like lint from his shirt, and Y/N was getting a little huffy over it. Now that she was used to the outright denial, hearing him politely laugh at what could be considered advances – well, she just didn’t know what to do with herself or the emotions that festered and bubbled deep in her stomach. Jealousy pimpled and prickled at her skin, and every sweet laugh that leaves his mouth (which are normally reserved for only Y/N) scrapes against it, worsening and open sore. 

It isn’t fair for her to feel this way, she knew that. Harry is probably just playing nice because she works with these people, so if he were to act as he usually does with strangers, then Y/N has to deal with that in the long term. If anything, she should be thanking him endlessly for putting thought into something like that, and to go out of his comfort zone and mindfully consider how he is coming off to other people (opposed to his approach of “if they like me they like me, if they don’t they don’t” that he went by in his regular day-to-day). 

But she’s jealous, and she’s grumpy, and she truly understood why he was so annoyed by the mere thought of the man wanting to share her with him. Because Y/N doesn’t want to share Harry with anyone – she didn’t want to share his laughs, or his gentle smiles, or the dimples that mark craters in his cheeks. Those were for her. . .those are things he only really lets her see regularly. They were for her. 

By the time they left, Y/N was seconds from pouting, and she was unable to keep her bottom lip tucked into her mouth when he inquired about it. “You’re being a little mouse,” he murmured when they stepped into the elevator (it’s what he always said when she wasn’t chatting his ear off), “Is everything okay? Did I not do well?” 

“You did so well!” She rushed to say, “Honestly, probably too well I just. . .” she couldn’t find the words to say it without sounding absolutely batty. How could she explain that him smiling at something Dominic said was getting her all flustered without sounding like a possessive monster? That him accepting the “goodbye, nice to meet you” hugs made her want to scoot them away with her brooms? She should be happy that he got on with her coworkers so well, but – “I just don’t like to share you, I think.” Is how she phrases it, and Harry’s head tilts slightly to the side, “I don’t wanna keep explaining, I don’t want to sound stupid.”

“You could never sound stupid to me,” Harry assured her as the elevator dinged open, and he slid his hand into hers, squeezing her around the knuckles, “Go on, say it.” 

A sigh lifts from her chest, and she finally lets the bottom lip jut out for a moment when she makes eye contact with him, “I’m just used to you only being sweet with me is the thing. Like the smiles, and the hugs, and the laughing and all that, you’re usually only doing that with me so it was just different to see you do it with other people – strangers at that. And you’re gorgeous, they all loved you I could tell, and then I was just getting in my head about how like – you know, you could look at you too and just see that you would look good together, right? But this isn’t me saying that I don’t want you being nice to people!” Oh god, she’s rambling isn’t she? “I’m not saying you can’t and I’m not saying don’t, like – I’m not being a possessive monster and if you want to start being soft and sweet with people, please, please do it, don’t even think about holding back. I guess – I guess what I’m trying to say, is that it would just take some getting used to on my end! But I expect extra attention and love to keep feeling special.” 

By the time she finished, they had made it to her car and stood outside of it while she waited for Harry to respond. She isn’t sure what she expected – maybe a scoff and for him to tell her to grow the fuck up or something. Maybe this would start a fight? This was annoying and unnecessary to bring up if she was just going to tell him to keep doing what he wanted. But god – she takes one look at him and just says every thought that’s ever run through her mind! It’s so annoying.

Harry pulls her in closer to him, and presses a kiss to the side of his head as he always does, “You’re silly.” He murmured against her, “Silly little pup – I was only putting on that show ‘cos you work with them. Can’t tell them to fuck off now can I?” 

“I know, I know, I’m so stupid –” 

“You’re not stupid,” he cuts her off, “Just silly. I would feel the same way if the roles were reversed – I reckon I have, actually,” his hand meets the middle of her back, rubbing up and down, “Anytime you start rambling for anyone else, I feel like I could crawl from my skin, especially when they might be interested in you. Wanna be the only one to make you nervous enough to start chatting away – it’s cute, and it’s something that I’ve decided I just want to be for me. So I get it.” He laughed a little, low and deep, tickling her ear with his breath, “All those smiles and laughs were fake – you’re the only person that gets me to smile and laugh easily, without you even trying. And I know you would never police how I acted with people, I don’t see you has some “possessive monster” – where’d you even get that?” She shrugged her shoulders and he pulled away so he could look her in the eyes, “Thank you for telling me though, it makes me feel better knowing you get jealous too. I kind of like it.” 

Y/N let herself keep pouting, and Harry puckers his lips and kisses her bottom lip, “Sorry for being so quiet earlier.” 

“S’okay,” he squeezed her again, “You can make it up to me by showering with me. Fake laughing at Oliver's jokes was starting to give me hives, I need to scrub myself down.” 

She snorted, “I know, you’re so strong,” she praised him, “I can’t even fake laugh at them that much.” 

Harry gives her another kiss. 

“Think I deserve lots of extra kisses for my good work.” 

#YOU COULD HAVE READ THIS EARLIER ON PATREON! :D

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Hi hi!! mm foul legacy is buzzing around my brain againn, brain dump teehee

thinking about Foul Legacy having a partner who adores rain and thunderstorms, always curled up in blankets near a window when its raining, getting excited when it rains, and Foul Legacy just doesn’t get it.

Big Little mothman hasn’t a clue why you like rain and storms, they’re loud and you get all wet, how could you enjoy them?? But he also feels bad when you complain about the lack of rain when the weather is clear skies all day for the second week in a row, he wishes he could help.

Reader and Foul Legacy sitting in a dark room with only candle light, its pouring outside, Foul Legacy is curled up around you as you read a book, idly petting his hair. Oughh my babyy

[📺]

anon this is SO me, i love the rain and the ambiance it provides (and it hasn't rained in WEEKS summer i tell you >:(

Childe really doesn't understand your love of rain- it's cold and wet and tracks mud everywhere! plus his wings become waterlogged very quickly, which is always a pain to deal with. and yet, somehow, you're fascinated by downpours and drizzles. your favorite autumn activity is to perch yourself near a window with a cup of tea and a good book, glancing up at the raindrops sliding down the glass every so often; in the summer, if it's warm enough, you'll go and stand outside with an umbrella during a storm. truly, your behavior confuses him- but he certainly won't complain if it means that you're able to protect him when the weather is particularly fierce, as Foul Legacy hates lightning and thunder more than almost anything

it's not uncommon, especially during the stormier months, to find you and Childe snuggled on the couch during the evening. he's curled around you, rumbling and playing with the hem of your shirt as you read, blankets and quilts piled around him in a comfy mound. the covers are for thunder and lightning, so Legacy can duck under them to hide but still be near you, only his horns and one clawed hand sticking out so he can lace his fingers with yours. storms are too loud and frightening for him, but with you by his side, he feels like he could be brave enough to face the Raiden Shogun herself... just a little bit <33

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #chit chat #📺anon #GAHHHH WHERE'S THE RAINNNNN #IT'S SO DRY AND WARM OUTSIDE I NEED MOISTURE #I NEED A DOWNPOUR PLEASEEEE I'M SHRIVELING UP #I'M A RAISIN!!!!!!! #oh sidenote i think foul legacy loves the way everything smells after a good rain #short scenario #other's stuff #FAVE #good evening :)

[interrogatethecat]

my faith is shaken, but I still believe

word count: 1.4k

something about the empty tiptoeing through cas’ tulips just hits, ya know? the rest is below the cut or on ao3!

Cas opens his eyes and he’s met with nothing.

“Ah,” he hears, “our little flower finally found the sun, didn’t he?”

Cas turns, and there it is. A cold stone throne, where the Empty lounges. Its legs are draped over one arm. It's wearing Meg’s face, lips quirked in a lopsided grin.

“I must say,” the Empty says, “that was quite a show. Honestly, I was expecting something a little more romantic. You know, moonlight. Candles. Sex in the back of that gas guzzler of a car he’s so fond of. I can’t say I’m surprised, though,” it continues. “One last time, Dean Winchester is saved.”

Any tension that was left in Cas’ body eases. Dean is okay.

“As he deserves,” Cas says.

“No regrets?” the Empty asks.

“No,” Cas says. “I made my choice, and I would do it all again. For Dean— for all of them.”

Cas isn’t sure what he expects to come next— a scathing remark, to be thrown into the infinite sleep of torments the Empty has promised him— but laughter certainly isn’t it.

“Oh, Castiel,” it says, “you’re a delight. You think you did the right thing? Truly?”

“Of course.” Cas is unshaken. Of course he wishes he could have stayed, wishes he could have said goodbye to Jack or Sam, but it doesn’t matter. Dean is okay. They’re all okay. There are few prices he wouldn’t pay to save them.

The Empty raises a hand lazily and the dark nothingness around them shimmers. Shapes begin to rise as a scene solidifies.

“What are you doing?” Cas takes a step back, but it’s futile. There’s no escape for him this time.

The Empty doesn’t answer his question. “Your happiness was peculiar,” it says. “I can’t help but wonder, why? Why die for Dean Winchester?”

“Because I love him,” Cas says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Because it is. Despite everything, despite all the ways they’ve hurt each other and the way it’s torn him apart, it’s woven into the fabric of his existence.

“Thank you,” he finds himself saying.

The smug, gleeful look on the Empty’s face slips for a moment before twisting into a sneer. “Thank you?” It swings its legs to the ground and starts moving towards Cas almost predatorily. Behind it, the throne disappears into the ground. “Thank you?”

“I may have been the one to summon you, but in taking Billie, you helped me save Dean,” Cas says simply.

“Oh, no. No no no no no.” Its face contorts into a grin that’s almost triumphant. “You think you saved him?” the Empty says. “Castiel, you broke him.”

That’s when the space around them clears and Cas realizes where they are.

The bunker’s library is still. Everything is as it was before Billie came, except for the laptop open on the far table, and the half empty bottle of whiskey beside it. And there’s Dean.

Cas’ feet carry him from the doorway, past the bookshelves, closer to him. He doesn’t remember this memory.

“It’s in real time,” the Empty says. “My very own play by play.”

“For an entity that wants to sleep, you talk a lot,” Cas says dryly.

Surprisingly, the Empty doesn’t scowl. Instead, it gestures towards Dean.

Dean picks up the whiskey and takes a swig of it, and Cas gets his first good look at him.

There are bags under his eyes. His hair is a mess. He looks awful, like he hasn’t slept or showered or eaten in days. His eyes have a new, haunted quality that they didn’t have before. He’s been crying.

Cas wonders if it’s because of him. His eyes drift from Dean’s face to his shoulder. A handprint— Cas’ bloody handprint, goodbye, Dean— sits there, and he knows.

“Dean,” he says, then stops.

Dean’s eyes are glued to the computer. He doesn’t react. There’s no twitch of his slumped shoulders. He doesn’t turn around to look at Cas.

The Empty stands smugly off to the side. It’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “So. Still confident you made the right choice?”

“Yes,” Cas says. As much as it hurts to see Dean like this, he’s alive. Dean cares so much, Cas never doubted he wouldn’t grieve, but soon enough, he’ll move on. Even if he’s miserable now, he’ll be happy someday, and that’s what matters. Alive and with a future he deserves.

“Take a look at what he’s watching,” the Empty suggests, eyes glittering.

Cas is on autopilot as he steps behind Dean’s chair. The air is knocked out of his chest and he forgets how to breathe when he sees what’s on the computer screen.

It’s them.

They’re standing in the dungeon, facing each other. Dean glances toward the door, then back to Cas. Cas can’t see his face, but he knows that he’s smiling.

He forgot about the camera they kept down there.

Cas watches as the Dean and him in the tape get closer. Watches as his hand comes up to grip Dean’s shoulder. Sees Dean fall to the side and how the Empty emerges, how he’s enveloped by it and disappears.

And then he watches Dean rewind the clip.

The dungeon door slams open, and Cas is carrying Dean as they stumble inside. Grabbing a knife out of Dean’s pocket, painting a sigil on the door—

The Dean not in the video takes another drink.

Cas tears his eyes away.

The Empty has been watching contently. “You gave everything up? All for this one—“ it gestures at Dean’s defeated form, “—broken human? Is this what you call saved?” it prods. “You never saved him, Castiel.”

“That’s not true,” Cas says. His voice isn’t as strong as he tries to make it.

“It is. Ever since you first laid a hand on him in Hell he was lost.” The Empty revels in the way Cas stiffens. “You’re cursed, Castiel. You can’t fix what’s broken because you are broken. You try and you try and you try to save Dean Winchester, but all you do is destroy him. The cracks in your chassis slice him open again and again, and you call it love.”

Cas hurts. It’s impossible not to, hearing the Empty’s words, feeling how they dig under his skin, because he’s thought these things a thousand times before. Watching Dean take another drink from the bottle makes his heart squeeze painfully.

But he made the right choice, he reminds himself. He did the right thing. Dean is alive. Grieving, but alive. He’ll be okay. Him, Sam, and Jack will help each other through this. He will be okay.

Cas holds onto that truth, gripping it tightly.

Dean rests his head in his hands, looking away from the tape for the first time.

Cas is on autopilot when he draws closer, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder that he knows Dean can’t feel.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispers hoarsely. “Fuck— Cas, I’m so sorry.”

Cas frowns. Dean has nothing to be sorry for. This was Cas’ choice. He’d make the same one again.

“I should’ve— I shouldn’t have gone after Billie. I shouldn’t have let you go with me.” Dean swallows. “I should have told you that I—“ He cuts off.

Cas can feel the Empty’s gaze drilling into him, even if he’s not looking.

“Why did you leave?” Dean shakes his head. “You sonofabitch. I told you not to. I love you. Probably should have told you that, too.”

Cas stills.

“I’m gonna,” Dean continues suddenly. “Cas, I hope you’ve got your ears on. I’m coming to get you, I—“

The world folds in on itself and Dean disappears. There’s nothing but Cas and Empty, now. He barely notices.

Dean loves him.

Dean loves him.

That fact doesn’t surprise him as much as maybe it should. The same way Cas is composed of creation and stardust, Dean is composed of righteousness and love. Cas just never thought Dean would love him like that.

Dean loves him.

“I hope you’re happy, Castiel,” the Empty says. “I hope you’re happy that you broke his heart. I hope you enjoy knowing that you’ve ruined him.”

“I saved him,” Cas says, sure. “And now it’s his turn to save me.”

The Empty doesn’t have a response to that. It just scowls and waves a hand.

Cas sinks into sleep as the nothingness consumes him and he dreams.

tag list: @glowstickcas @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @angelscas @floral-cas @castielsbeeslippers @dune-echo @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @fellshish @bestiarum @top13zepptraxx @linaraiscorner @theedorksinlove @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @sansasworld

let me know if you want to be added or removed :D

#I meant to write this months ago but oops #rewatching s13 does things to a person #spn #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #my fic #my writing