#scooped up by the vast <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[namelessprince]

i think ive talked about riptide before but either way. chip is the desolation jay is the hunt and gillion is the vast <3

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hi! I'm here to feed your Epic fixation per your request~

Could you write Hermes and his favorite places he likes to fuck you? 🥺 I read your Poseidon one, and I absolutely loved it 😍😍

A/n: I thank you for feeding me this delicious requests

Hermes’ Favorite Places to Have Sex with You

(Because, of course, the God of Mischief and Travel has preferences.)

Hermes is fast, charming, unpredictable—and when it comes to you, he is insatiable.

There is no place too sacred, no setting too inconvenient. If he wants you, he takes you.

But there are some places he enjoys more than others.

1. The Clouds of Mount Olympus – The Realm of the Gods, Where No Mortal Dares to Tread

Hermes is a god of the skies, the wind, the air itself.

And there is something intoxicating about having you beneath him, your body arching against his, as you both lose yourselves in the endless expanse of the heavens.

The first time it happened, he had scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you through the skies, his laughter warm against your skin.

“Where are we going?” you had asked, breathless.

His golden eyes had gleamed mischievously.

“Where no one can interrupt us.”

And then—you were in the clouds.

The air cool against your skin, the world stretched out below you, endless and vast.

You had barely processed the view before he was on you, pressing you down onto the soft, weightless mist, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips tracing the line of your jaw.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he had whispered, his voice rough with desire.

And you did.

Gods, you did.

Because even when the ground was nowhere beneath you, even when you were lost in his touch, his kisses, his hands—you knew he would never let you fall.

2. The Shadowed Corners of Olympus’ Grand Halls – Because Hermes Thrives on the Risk

There is no place more dangerous than the halls of Olympus, where gods and goddesses gather, where power radiates from every marble column.

And yet, Hermes lives for danger.

So it was no surprise when he pulled you into a dark alcove, just beyond the grand throne room, where Zeus himself was speaking.

Your protests had been half-hearted at best.

“Hermes, this is—”

“Reckless?” His smirk was sinful, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s why you love me.”

And before you could argue, before you could remind him that anyone could walk past—

His lips crashed against yours.

His hands were everywhere, fingers gripping your hips, pinning you against the cold stone wall, his body a contrast of warmth and tension.

“You have to stay quiet,” he murmured, grinning against your skin. “Do you think you can do that?”

You had tried.

Failed.

And when he finally pulled back, his golden eyes burning, he had pressed a kiss to your temple and whispered, “I win.”

3. His Temple at Night – When It’s Just the Two of You, and He Can Worship You Properly

For all his mischief, his chaos, his endless energy, there is something almost reverent in the way he loves you in the quiet moments.

His temple, usually filled with prayers, offerings, and the scent of incense, becomes something entirely different at night.

The first time he had taken you there after dusk, he had led you past the marble pillars, through the dimly lit corridors, his fingers laced with yours.

“You always make me chase you,” you had teased.

Hermes had smirked. “Not tonight.”

And then—he was on his knees before you.

His warm hands sliding up your legs, his lips brushing your skin, his golden gaze dark with devotion.

“Let me worship you,” he had whispered, and there had been no mischief in his voice, only hunger, only need.

And he did.

Slowly. Thoroughly. Completely.

4. The Forest, Beneath the Moonlight – Where He Can Lose Himself in You Entirely

There is something wild about Hermes, something untamed, something that does not belong to Olympus alone.

And when he takes you into the woods, beneath the open sky, surrounded by nothing but nature and the whisper of the wind—

He is free.

The first time it happened, you had been laughing, running from him, your heart pounding, the thrill of the chase making your skin burn.

Then, suddenly—he had caught you.

Spun you against the nearest tree, pinning you with a knee between your thighs, his breath hot against your ear.

“Caught you,” he had murmured, smirking, his hands sliding beneath your clothes, teasing, testing.

The moon had bathed you both in silver light, the scent of earth and rain filling your lungs as he pressed you into the rough bark, his body claiming yours, slow and deep.

And when it was over—when you were both spent, tangled together on the forest floor—

Hermes had simply grinned, pulling you close, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

“You should run more often,” he had whispered.

5. His Personal Chambers – When He Wants You All to Himself

There are no distractions here.

No gods, no mortals, no risk of being seen.

Just you and him.

Hermes does not often stay in one place, but his chambers are the one place he always returns to.

And when you are there, he is not the fast-talking messenger, not the trickster, not the god always moving from one adventure to the next.

He is just Hermes.

The first time he brought you here, he had pressed you down onto the bed, hovering over you, his golden eyes dark and unreadable.

Then, softly—almost too soft for a god of mischief—he had whispered, “Mine.”

And this time, there was no rush.

No teasing. No games.

Just him, taking his time, learning your body, making sure you never forgot who you belonged to.

And when he finally collapsed beside you, pulling you against his chest, his fingers trailing lazily over your bare skin—

For once, Hermes had nowhere else to be.

Because you were the only thing he had ever wanted to chase.

And he had already caught you.

[asgard23]

Yandere Cheater x Reader pt 3

Warning: 18+ noncon, cheating, language,murder

Summary: After discovering your boyfriend of 2 years cheating on you, you decide to block him from your life. Will he accept it?

*This is the final part! Made it a bit lengthy*

Part 1,Part 2

Thank you, and please don’t forget to reblog<3

@valeriinee @yourtypicalhuman09 @minshookie29 @alebrasil0101 @boomdolle @certifiedsimpinggalore @honey-beeuwu

The city lights blurred into streaks of diamond fire as the car sped through the night. Alec’s grip on the steering wheel hadn’t loosened since he’d snatched you from the pulsing chaos of the club. His jaw was still set in that rigid line, lips pressed thin, a stark contrast to the soft, playful curves you knew so well. Anger smoldered in his pretty face, a fiery semblance of his red hair. You watched the club shrink in the rearview mirror, the thumping bass fading until it was just the hum of the engine and the tight silence between you. The initial shock of him dragging you out has faded slightly, replaced by a dull throb in your head and a confusing swirl of emotions.

Even before Alec’s success, you knew he came from money, not that he ever flaunted it beyond the occasional expensive watch or the gleam of his Porsche. He was always so understated, so… normal, despite his privileged background. He was grounded, humble, and more focused on building his cybersecurity business than flashing cash. Seeing the building he pulled up to, though, hit differently. This wasn't just comfortable; this was another level entirely.

It was a towering structure of glass and steel, sleek and imposing, piercing the night sky. A doorman, a man whose uniform looked sharper than most people's suits, nods deferringly at Alec. Alec returns the nod, a silent, mutual understanding passing between them. As he killed the engine, the silence returned, broken only by the distant hum of the city. 

Before you could even unbuckle, he was out of the car and around to your side, opening the door with swift movements. You stepped out onto the pristine pavement, the cool night air causing goosebumps to arrive on your skin. The moment you were free of the car, he scooped you up again. Your gasp was involuntary as the alcohol queasily swished around in your stomach.

"Alec!" you protested weakly, but he paid no mind, already striding towards the glass doors of the lobby. The doorman held one open, offering a polite, unreadable smile.

Inside, the lobby was vast and minimalist, all polished stone and diffused lighting, with abstract art adorning the walls. It felt like stepping into a gallery, it screamed exclusivity. You were still in his arms, your head resting against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm you knew so well.

You had forgotten how rich he was, or perhaps you hadn't grasped the full extent of it until now. The apartment you shared before wasn't small, comfortable even, but it was nowhere near this.

"Alec, what is this place?" you asked, the question barely a whisper as you were carried through the opulent lobby, past hushed residents, towards the private elevators. Had he always lived like this?

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated through you. It was a sound you loved, a sound you missed. But now it felt tinged with something else, something possessive and unsettling. "I thought we could use a fresh start," he murmured, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the penthouse floor.

As the elevator began its ascent, the city lights spread out below you, a glittering carpet of diamonds receding into the distance. He was still holding you, his strong arms a cage you couldn’t break free from even if you’d found the strength. He looked down at you, his gaze sweeping over your face, down the length of your body in the dress, his eyes lingering where the fabric had ridden up your thigh. You felt the heat of his gaze, saw the slight tightening around his mouth, and you knew, with a wave of nausea, that his desire for you was fighting a furious war with his anger and jealousy. He gulped again, this time more noticeably.

The elevator doors opened directly into the apartment – a space as vast and breathtaking as the view outside. Floor to ceiling windows offered an uninterrupted aroma, showing the glittering metropolis. It was undeniably beautiful, designed with an eye for minimalist elegance, but then you saw them.

There, in the corner of the living area, was the slightly worn armchair you’d inherited from your grandmother, the one you’d always said felt like a hug. On a custom-built shelf, displayed prominently, was the hand-painted mug you’d made for him on one of your earliest dates, chipped but still cherished. They were small, personal touches amidst the grandeur, mementos from your old lives, things you thought you’d left behind.

And then you saw the new additions. A PlayStation 5, you’d only mentioned wanting a few weeks before…. A pristine, mint-edition Wonder Woman comic, original print. And the Lord of the Rings director's cut full series, still shrink-wrapped, exactly the version you’d lamented not owning, that you’d joked about watching in a marathon one day.

You gasped, a small, choked sound. He had created a new life for you here. He had listened, remembered, built a sanctuary filled with things that were you. But you couldn't accept it. The familiarity, the thoughtful gifts, they didn't feel like love right now. They felt like another layer of betrayal, another reminder of the man who knew you so intimately.

The video. It flashed in your mind again, unbidden, brutal. Ada. Her skin gleamed with sweat. Her ass, jiggling. And Alec. His eyes closed, his face contorted in pleasure, the sound of his groans. Ada’s voice at the end of the video satisfied, “You’re a fucking animal.” And then the video cutting off.

Tears began to stream down your face before you even consciously registered they were falling. Hot, silent tears that traced paths through the faint makeup you wore from the club. You remembered her words, her triumphant moans, the sick twist in your stomach as you watched the man you loved, the man who was holding you now, be inside someone else.

Alec set you down gently, his earlier possessiveness momentarily forgotten as he saw your face. His expression crumpled. He knelt before you, his large hands gently cupping your face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. His beautiful, usually vibrant green eyes were clouded with anguish, pleading.

 "No, baby, shhhhh, shhhh," he whispered, his thumbs gently cupping your jaw, tilting your face up to his. His eyes were clouded with pained desperation.

 "Just take me back, please, take me back, please... it meant nothing." He bent slightly, his forehead pressing against yours.

You refused to listen, tried to wrench your face away, but his grip remained firm. 

"Y/N, she meant nothing," he repeated, his voice a little louder now, more insistent. You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, the tears running faster, a torrent of grief and anger spilling onto your cheeks.

"I won't let you throw us away, Y/N." His voice was low, firm, possessiveness entering again.

That was it. That phrase, that declaration, you? The sheer audacity of it, after what he’d done, snapped something inside you. You ripped your face from his hands, your hands coming up to shove against the solid wall of his chest. He didn't budge; you were the only one who moved, stumbling back a step.

"ME?!" you shrieked, the sound tearing from your throat. It was raw, broken, utterly unlike the composed tone you usually maintained. The syllable echoed, swallowed by the cavernous living room, then spat back at you by the unforgiving walls. "Throw us away? You think I threw us away?" You laughed, a harsh, grating sound devoid of humor.

 "You threw us away, Alec! The moment! The instant! You decided to slip your... slip your dick into that... that slut!"

The vulgarity of your words were almost foreign to you, honestly shocking yourself at your intensity. The venom that had been slowly poisoning your gut for months now spewed forth, hot and corrosive. The anger, oh, the righteous, consuming anger, the debilitating hurt, the searing humiliation. And the cruelest twist? The knowledge that he, Alec, was the one inflicting this pain. Damn him. Damn him for making you love him so much that this betrayal cut straight to the bone. How you hated him for making you feel this much, for binding your heart so tightly to his that ripping it apart felt like tearing away your own flesh. 

Your arms flailed wildly, mirroring the chaotic storm inside you. The alcohol coursed, making you feel both weightless and heavy at the same time, fueling the theatricality of your despair. You gestured wildly, pointing an accusing finger, then clutching your chest as if physically trying to contain the rupture there. Your body was animated, a desperate, frantic dance of pain. You saw his eyes flicker downwards, and for a split second, a familiar, unsettling spark  a glimmer of arousal  flashed there. Even now? The thought was a fresh wave of nausea.

Even now, seeing you broken and furious, he could be distracted by the way your breasts bounced with your movements, the way your lips moved as you railed at him. It was sickening, infuriating, and utterly him.

Your yelling, however, seemed to finally pierce through whatever haze he was in, snapping him back to the stark reality of the situation. His eyes widened, focusing on your face, and the brief flicker of something else was replaced by pure, unadulterated pleading.

You noticed his momentary lapse, the infuriating male gaze even in this moment of crisis, and you rolled your eyes, a sharp, dismissive flick of your head. It was a small act of defiance, a refusal to let him see all of you, not even the part that still, maddeningly, found him attractive.

His voice, when he spoke, was hoarse,filled with a desperate urgency that clawed at your already frayed nerves.

 "Y/N, please," he begged, taking a tentative step towards you. "Please, listen to me. Just... please." He ran a hand through his already messy hair, the picture of a man unraveling. 

"I was drunk. I was so stupid. Beyond stupid. It was... it was a mistake. A terrible, horrible mistake." His gaze was locked onto yours, searching, pleading.

 "I wanted you, Y/N. I always wanted you. You know that, don't you? Every single day, it was only ever you."

"Wanted me?" The question was incredulous, sharp with the edge of the pain that had been festering, growing, tightening its grip on your chest for months. Months! You'd been living with this dull ache, this simmering doubt, this crushing weight. "Wanted me? Is that why you were with her? Because you wanted me so badly?"

His shoulders slumped slightly. "It was never about her," he insisted, his voice softer now, trying to soothe the savage beast he'd unleashed within you. "Never her. It was about... us. About what we... what we didn't have."

You stared at him, speechless for a moment, the sheer audacity of his words stealing your breath. Your mouth opened and closed, trying to form a coherent response to such a breathtakingly self-serving excuse. 

"Oh, I see," you finally managed, the words dripping with sarcastic venom. "Right. So, it's my fault, then? It's my fault you cheated on me? Because I wasn't giving you... What you thought you needed?" You spat the words out like poison.

"No!" He recoiled as if you'd struck him. "No, Y/N, that's not what I meant! Not at all. It's just... I was frustrated. God, I was so frustrated." He looked away for a second, then back at you, his expression almost sheepish, vulnerable in a way that used to melt your heart. Now it just enraged you further.

 "I wanted you so badly, Y/N. More than anything. And you... you kept pushing me away. It felt like... like I wasn't enough. "

You stood there, rooted to the spot, the sheer carelessness of his words momentarily paralyzing you. He felt like he wasn't enough? How could he twist this, even for a second, into something resembling your fault?

"You told me, Alec!" Your voice rose again, crackling with disbelief.

 "You told me you were okay with waiting! We talked about it! We made a decision together!" You remembered the conversation vividly – curled up on the sofa, mapping out your future, your timelines, his promise explicit and unwavering. 

"You looked me in the eye and promised me you'd wait. That I was worth waiting for?" Your voice broke on the last word.

"Do you think having sex with someone else behind my back, breaking your promise, makes you more of a man somehow? Huh?" You stepped towards him now, your anger propelling you forward. "NO! It makes you a liar, Alec. It makes you a cheat. It makes you... someone I don't even recognize anymore!"

Alec looked pathetic right now, the tower of a man crumbling before you. And the realization gave you a fleeting, bitter sense of power amidst the ruin.

"My love," he whispered, taking another tentative step, closing the distance between you. "Y/N, my love. I know. I know I fucked up. More than words can say. I shattered something precious, something... everything." He reached out, his hands hovering uncertainly for a moment before settling gently on your hips, drawing you closer despite your rigid stance.

 "But I can promise you this," his voice was thick with emotion, raw with earnestness, "on my life, on everything I hold sacred... I will never betray your trust again. Never. Just... just give me another chance. One chance. I will do anything. Anything you ask. Just... please, my love. Please."

You felt the heat radiating from his hands on your hips, the familiar contours of his body drawing near. Your own body, despite the turmoil in your mind, seemed to remember his presence, his touch. You knew, in that instant, that he meant every word.

The desperation in his eyes, the tremor in his voice, the way his entire being seemed centered on you in that moment – it was unmistakable. He was broken, and he believed only you could put him back together.

But you couldn't see past the hurt. It was a thick, suffocating fog. The fact that he had broken his solemn promise, that he had chosen someone else, that another woman had... had been with him... it was a wound that wouldn't close. The memory of your love, pure and bright, felt forever tainted by the dark stain of his actions. Taking him back felt like accepting that stain, making it a permanent part of your story, your future. It was too painful to contemplate.

"Another chance……" You repeated. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly on your hips, and through the thin fabric of your dress, you could feel the growing tension in his body, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against you. Even now. 

"You think I can just... just forget the fact that you were inside someone else? That you looked at her that way? That you touched her? About seeing you... or hearing about you... with her?" You couldn't look into those green eyes you had loved so fiercely, the eyes that now held a history you couldn't bear to face. You furrowed your eyebrows, glancing away towards the indifferent expanse of the penthouse, towards the city lights that hadn't turned off for your heartbreak. You hissed softly as his grip increased, pulling you flush against his hard body.

"I know it's not easy," he murmured, his voice rough, his breath warm against your temple. "I know I'm asking for the impossible. But please, Y/N. Please try. I can't live without you. My world... it stops without you in it. I'm nothing without you." His voice cracked, a desperate plea that twisted something deep inside you.

You felt a bitter laugh bubble up inside you. "You're a millionaire, Alec," you stated flatly, the vastness of the penthouse amplifying the stark reality of his wealth. You gestured vaguely around the room, at the expensive art on the walls, the designer furniture, the breathtaking view that cost more than most people made in a lifetime. "I think you'll survive."

His response was instantaneous, fiercely earnest. "Money means nothing without you." His eyes searched yours desperately. 

"This apartment, these things…" he swept a hand around the luxurious space, his voice laced with something akin to disgust. "They're all meaningless without you to share them with. They're just… empty."

Suddenly, a different thought, a more unsettling one, pushed through the haze of your pain. It had been buzzing through the gossip channels for weeks, whispers and rumors you hadn't really allowed yourself to process fully. Now, looking at him, feeling his desperation and his underlying intensity, it clicked into terrifying focus.

"What happened to Ada, Alec?" you asked, the subject change abrupt, deliberate. You watched his face closely, searching for a flicker, a tell. "Hmm? The grapevine is buzzing, you know. Suddenly, she's just... gone? Vanished? Blacklisted from absolutely everything?"

His expression tightened instantly. The pleading vulnerability vanished, replaced by a dangerous. It was a look that commanded fear and submissiveness,  but seeing it directed at the mention of Ada, aimed at you, sent a shiver down your spine. 

"She's gone," he stated, his voice low, clipped. "She's not a problem anymore." The finality in his tone, the utter lack of emotion regarding Ada's fate, confirmed your sickening suspicion. He had handled her.

"Not a problem, huh?" You laughed again, a brittle, almost hysterical sound that sounded alien in your own ears. It was the sound of a woman teetering on the edge. 

"You both humiliated me! In front of everyone!" You remembered the wave of sympathy you'd received, the way people had looked at you with pity and outrage on your behalf. Ada hadn't been subtle. She'd made sure people knew.

 "That hateful bitch had the nerve to—"

"You won't have to worry about her anymore," Alec cut you off, his voice dropping even lower, becoming dangerously hard. It was a promise, but also a chilling declaration of what exactly? Now you did not know..

You gulped nervously, watching the hard line of his jaw, the dangerous glint in his eyes. You realized, with a terrifying clarity, that this was all Alec's doing. He had wielded his wealth to destroy her life. He did that all …for you. And you had no clue how to feel about that.

The cool, conditioned air of the high-rise apartment wrapped around you. Before you could even fully articulate the complicated storm brewing inside you, he was scooping you up.

Your knees were hoisted, forcing your arms to instinctively loop around his neck, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair. Held aloft, eyes the color of (E/C) meeting his intense green gaze, you were led down the long, polished hallway of his expansive apartment. The air shifted subtly as he approached a large, ornate door, the entrance to his private sanctuary.

He reached the door, pushing it open effortlessly with his foot, and stepped inside, carrying you over the threshold. The bedroom unfolded before you like a scene from a magazine shoot, only grander. It was immense, easily the size of your entire apartment, though you could hardly focus on right now.

Dominating the center of the room was the bed – massive, a king-sized mattress that looked more like a cloud, covered in layers of plush duvets and oversized pillows in rich textures. It seemed large enough to get lost in.

The heavy door clicked shut behind you, sealing you both in. Without a word, Alec moved towards the nearest wall, your back hitting the cool surface with a soft thud. He didn't release your knees, keeping you elevated as his mouth found yours in a fierce, possessive kiss.

His hands moved from your knees down to your hips, anchoring you against him. You tasted desperation, desire, and something else – a plea for absolution you weren't ready to give.

You fought him. You turned your head, trying to break the kiss, trying to regain control of a situation unraveling faster than you could process. Your rejection only seemed to fuel him. His lips trailed down your jawline to your neck, heat blooming on your skin with every touch.

His hands squeezed your ass harshly through the fabric of your dress, pulling your body tighter against his. He ground his aroused hardness against your lower belly, and a gasp escaped your lips, your breath hitching despite yourself.

Alec was molten desire the moment his eyes locked onto you tonight in that dress. But when you showed a little sass, that defiant tilt of your chin, showcasing the natural sway of your hips? All bets were off. He had waited an eternity, it felt like three years, technically four, since he’d fallen for you, to finally have this.

To finally feel the reality he’d only imagined, the tight sheath of your body around his. He was practically oozing anticipation. He needed you, and the desperation in his eyes mirrored the intensity of his arousal.

You sensed it all  the wanting, the need, the long-suppressed desire now unleashed. And your fight only intensified, a battle not just against him, but against yourself. You always got this way after you and Alec made out, that familiar dampness blooming between your legs, a traitorous warmth that defied your heartbreak.

Of course, you wanted your boyfriend. You loved him. You wanted to make love to him. But you had stuck to your morals, to your decision to wait, no matter how incredibly tempting, how overwhelmingly desired you felt in his arms.

What Alec was doing was a brutal conflict. Every touch, every kiss, was pulling you in opposite directions. You wanted him to stop because the ache in your chest from the betrayal, was a physical pain, a wall between you.

But a primal part of you, the part that craved his heat, his touch, screamed for him never to stop. Still… your heart, the broken part, won. And so, you fought, pushing weakly against his chest, turning away again. But your resistance was met with a relentless force.

He didn't pause, didn't ask. With a low growl, Alec lowered you just enough to grab the hem of your dress. There was no gentleness, no shared intimacy in this stripping away. He peeled the fabric from your body forcefully, the material catching and then tearing slightly as he pulled it over your head, discarding it on the floor.

You stood before him completely naked, vulnerable, the cool air hitting your heated skin.

He took off his own shirt in one swift motion. You couldn't help but look, couldn't help but admire him despite everything. The defined lines of his abs, the broad chest, the smooth skin lightly dusted with red hair.

The body you'd rubbed a thousand times, leaned against, felt safe with. A surge of heat, purely physical, shot through you, and you fought the urge to reach out, to run your hands over his pecs, tracing the familiar landscape of his form.

He was breathing heavily, his green eyes blazing as they devoured your naked form. This was it. Years of waiting, years of wanting. He was finally seeing you like this, finally having you. He paused for just a second, a flicker of awe mixed with raw desire in his gaze before it darkened.

"Alec! A condom!" The scream was torn from your throat, fear lacing the desire that had begun to stir.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his voice a low, husky rumble that vibrated through you. "I want to feel all of you, baby. All of you. I need you." There was no room for negotiation in his tone, only desperate need.

He lifted you slightly again, pushing you back against the wall, and you felt the blunt, insistent press of his erection against your entrance. It was huge. Overwhelming. Your mind reeled, your body tensed, but before you could fully protest again, he pushed forward, slowly, relentlessly, tearing into you.

A cry escaped your lips, a mix of pain and shock and something else you couldn't name. He was inside you. After all this time, after all your waiting... he was inside you.

He paused, bracing himself with his hands against the wall on either side of your head, his eyes locked on yours, searching your face.

��"Fuck, Y/N," he breathed, his voice thick with exertion and emotion. "I'm so sorry. Please, baby, tell me you'll forgive me."

He began to move, slow, deep thrusts that stretched and filled you completely. Each movement brought a fresh wave of sensation, overwhelming your senses. Your body, despite your mind's protest, was responding.

"Will you forgive me now, baby?" he moaned, voice strained as he moved within you, trying to link the physical pleasure he was giving you to the absolution he craved.

You couldn't answer, lost in the swirling storm of feeling. It was too much–too big, too deep, too soon, too complicated.

"Mmm... s'too big, Alec," you moaned weakly, your voice trembling.

He paused for a fraction of a second, a smirk playing on his lips before it widened into a grin. "Yeah? Is Daddy's dick too big for you?"

You could only meekly nod, your head swimming. His grin widened further before he suddenly shifted, turning you around, pushing you gently onto your hands against the wall, settling behind you.

He grabbed your hips, pulling you back onto his hardness before thrusting again, deep and full. You cried out again, of reluctant pleasure. He began to fuck you hard , mesmerized by the perfect bounce of your ass, the way his dick seemed to disappear entirely into your (S/C) pussy lips. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound of pure satisfaction at the sight. It sent a jolt through your core, his moans were incredibly sexy despite the circumstances.

The amount of pleasure he felt, finally sheathed within you, was indescribable. It was everything he had waited for, everything he had dreamed of. You both moaned in unison, connected in a way you never had been before. He could see you, your back arched, your brows knit together, your mouth slightly agape as he made love to you–or perhaps just took you. You looked breathtakingly beautiful,exactly how he dreamed a thousand times before.

He reached a hand down, fingers finding your clit, circling it gently at first. A jolt shot through you, and a moan escaped your lips. He rubbed firmer, faster, and you felt the orgasm building incredibly quickly, a wave of heat threatening to consume you.

Alec was very vocal, releasing passionate cries and slurred words. This was the best sex he had ever had in his life. He was lost in the sensation, lost in you. He took the time, pleasuring you despite the conflict he knew still raged within you.

"Oh, fuck, you're so tight, baby," he slurred, truly pussy drunk, buried deep inside you. "Gonna destroy this pussy... fuck!" he growled, and the rhythm changed, accelerating, his focus now solely on his own escalating pleasure. He pumped harder, faster, driving you towards your peak alongside his.

When it was over,he brought you both to the bed. And you justed layedthere, exhausted, bruised emotionally and physically. He shifted, pulling you back against his chest, your back pressed into his front. His arms wrapped around you, anchoring you to him. His breathing was still ragged in your ear.

"Never letting you go again," he whispered fiercely, burying his face in your hair, holding you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The taste of chilled caviar was usually a decadent delight, a tiny burst of the ocean against your tongue. But today, as the security guard, a hulking figure named Mason, delivered your breakfast tray laden with Alec’s latest attempt at showering you with opulent affection, the mere sight of the glistening black pearls made bile climb your throat. You barely made it to the ensuite bathroom, collapsing before the pristine porcelain, expelling not just the caviar, but the eggs benedict, the fresh orange juice, the entire extravagant spread your stomach violently rejected.

You knelt there, trembling at the sudden heat flooding your body. This wasn't just a bug. It wasn't a bad oyster from that charity gala Alec dragged you to last week. This felt… different. A cold dread settled in your gut, replacing the nausea.

Getting a pregnancy test was surprisingly difficult, even in this gilded cage. Alec’s high-rise apartment was less a home and more a fortress. Security personnel were everywhere – managing the entrance, patrolling floors, and always, always, accompanying you whenever you stepped outside the front door. Alec insisted it was for your safety, a necessity given his profile, but you knew the truth. They were your gilded shackles. Mason and the others weren't just bodyguards; they were wardens, reporting your movements, ensuring you didn't stray too far or too long.

But Mason, despite his imposing presence, had a quiet kindness about him. He’d seen the morning sickness, the sudden pallor of your beautiful (S/C)against your (E/C) eyes that usually sparkled. He brought you plain toast and ginger ale without being asked. A few days later, feigning a headache and a need for specific medication from a specific pharmacy far downtown (a pharmacy you knew sold tests), you convinced him, by some miracle or perhaps his own suspicion, to make the detour. He waited patiently outside the entire time, his eyes scanning everything, but you managed it. Two pink lines. Two undeniable, life-altering pink lines.

You sat on the edge of the plush, ridiculously expensive bed, the small plastic stick clutched in your hand, the reality crashing down around you. Pregnant. In this situation. A situation you’d been trapped in for a year.

A year of Alec and his suffocating clinginess. If you were in the library, he’d find a reason to be there, leaning against the doorway, watching you. If you were cooking (a rare treat you insisted on sometimes, just to feel some semblance of normalcy), he’d drape himself over the kitchen counter, talking incessantly, his eyes never leaving you. He insisted on working from home most days, his imposing figure always just in your peripheral vision.

He’d buy you anything you even idly mentioned, a painting, a private island vacation you never wanted to take, presenting each gift with that hopeful, wounded look. He’d fill rooms with flowers after a minor disagreement. He’d arrange extravagant dates, flying in chefs from Michelin-starred restaurants or booking entire theatres just for you. But none of it felt like love. It felt like compensation. A false imitation of your once true love.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

As dusk settled over the city, painting the skyline in hues of orange and purple visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows, you finished. The suitcase stood by the door. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat. Alec would be home soon. This was your chance. You wouldn’t sneak away. You would face him. You owed your unborn child that much – a clear break, a stand.

The sound of the private elevator chiming echoed through the silent apartment. Footsteps in the hall. The click of the lock. The door opened, and there he was. Alec. Tall, imposing, a faint scent of expensive cologne clinging to him. He looked tired, but his eyes, those startlingly green eyes, lit up the moment they landed on you.

"Y/N? Hey, baby," he said, his voice softening instinctively. He dropped his briefcase by the door. "Didn't expect you up. Feeling better?"

He started towards you, that familiar possessive half-smile on his lips. But then he saw the suitcase. Standing by the door. His steps faltered. The smile vanished, replaced by a frown of confusion.

"What's this?" he asked, his voice hardening slightly.

You took a deep breath, straightening your shoulders, meeting his gaze. You didn't flinch. Not this time.

"I'm leaving, Alec," you said, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands.

The suspicion in his eyes intensified, turning into stubborn refusal. "Leaving? Don't be ridiculous, Y/N. Where would you go? This is your home."

"It's your cage," you countered, the words sharp. "And I can't stay here anymore."

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. "We talked about this. This... This isn't up for discussion. You're not going anywhere." His voice was low, dangerous. This was the tone he used when he reminded you of his power, of why you stayed.

"Yes, I am," you insisted, holding his gaze. "I have to leave."

"Why?" he demanded, his jaw tight. "What is this? Did something happen? Tell me who upset you. Was it Mason? I'll fire him. Was it that errand you ran? Did someone bother you? I'll have the security doubled."

"It's not the security, Alec. It's you. It's us." You gestured between the two of you, then around the opulent room. "This whole situation. It's not right."

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "I give you everything! The best apartment, whatever you want, anything you need! I'm here, Y/N, every day, trying to make things work. I'm trying to earn your forgiveness!"

"You can't force forgiveness, Alec!" you cried, the pent-up frustration of a year bubbling to the surface. "And you can't force someone to be in a relationship with you!"

"I love you, Y/N!" he declared, stepping right up to you now, reaching out to touch your arm. "Everything I did, forcing you to stay, it was because I couldn't live without you. Because I love you!"

You recoiled slightly from his touch. "Love doesn't control. Love doesn't betray. And love doesn't ignore someone's 'no'." You saw a flicker of something in his eyes at that, maybe guilt, maybe just annoyance at being reminded of the nights your body was a battlefield of his desire and your silent protest.

"That's not fair," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I'm trying. I'm doing better. You know I am."

"It's too late, Alec," you said softly, the finality in your voice hanging in the air. "It was too late a year ago. And now... now there's another reason."

He looked at you, confused. "Another reason? What could be more important than us working through this?"

You took a shaky breath. This was it. The moment of truth. The thing that changed everything.

"I'm pregnant, Alec," you said, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I found out today. I'm pregnant, and I am not letting them be born into this. Into this twisted situation."

The air crackled with silence. Alec froze, his eyes wide, searching your face. He stared for a long moment, the shock palpable. Then, slowly, a transformation occurred. The anger, the stubbornness, the possessive demand in his eyes began to melt away, replaced by something else entirely. Pure, unadulterated joy.

A slow smile spread across his face, growing wider and wider until he looked almost giddy. He let out a shaky laugh, stepping closer again, this time not with demand, but with awe.

"Pregnant?" he whispered, as if the word was sacred. "You're... You're serious? We're having a baby?"

You nodded, still bracing yourself for his reaction, unsure what this new emotion meant for your plan to leave.

"A baby," he repeated, reaching out and, with trembling hands, gently cupped your face. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks. "My Y/N. My baby."

He pulled you into a fierce hug, lifting you slightly off your feet, burying his face in your hair. "You're pregnant! This is... this is incredible! This is the best news! Oh, Y/N! A family! We're going to have a family!"

His reaction was so overwhelmingly positive, so completely ecstatic, it threw you off balance. He was completely fixated on the news, seemingly forgetting the suitcase, the argument, your reasons for leaving. How delusional could he be?

"Alec, wait," you tried to interject, pulling back slightly. "You don't understand. This changes things. This is why I have to leave. I can't raise a child here, like this."

He pulled back, holding you at arm's length, his eyes shining with happiness, completely missing the despair in yours. "Leave? No, no, no. Y/N, this means you have to stay now! This is perfect! Everything's perfect! We're having a baby! We'll get married! We'll build a nursery! We'll buy a bigger place, maybe a house with a yard! Whatever you want! This... this is fate! This is the universe telling us we're meant to be, Y/N! That we're a family!"

He was already swept away by the fantasy, rewriting the narrative, using this as the ultimate justification for keeping you bound to him. His joy was manic, frightening in its intensity.

"Alec, listen to me!" you pleaded, trying to make him understand the gravity of your situation, not just the fact of the pregnancy. "I can't. I haven't forgiven you. We're not a real couple. You forced me to stay! You control every part of my life! I won't let my child grow up witnessing that!"

He laughed, shaking his head as if you were being silly. " Baby, with a baby on the way, everything changes! The past is the past! We have a future now! A family! And I'll be the best father! The best husband! I'll make sure you both have everything! More security, the best doctors, the best schools..."

He was already planning your life, their life, without any input from you, ignoring the fundamental problem of your captivity. His love, his joy, was still rooted in possession and control. The pregnancy hadn't freed you; it had potentially tightened the chains.

You felt a wave of nausea, not from morning sickness this time, but from sheer panic. You had hoped the pregnancy would be your ticket out, the undeniable reason you couldn't stay. Instead, it was just another leverage point for Alec, another reason for him to keep you close, to claim ownership.

The suitcase by the door seemed to shrink, its significance diminished in the face of Alec’s overwhelming, terrifying joy. He wasn't going to let you leave. Not now. Not with his child inside you. He was going to double down.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a notification. A text from Tia. U okay? Haven't heard from u much. You longed to tell her everything, to scream for help. But with Alec standing inches away, his eyes shining with possessive happiness, you knew it was impossible.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Months bled into each other, marked by the subtle changes in your body and the increasingly oppressive nature of Alec's devotion. He was consumed by the pregnancy. Every meal was monitored, every walk (escorted, of course) kept brief, every potential stressor eliminated with ruthless efficiency. 

His clinginess intensified tenfold. He insisted on accompanying you to every doctor's appointment, sitting close, holding your hand, asking the doctor questions with a paternal intensity that might have been charming in a different man. He’d buy boxes upon boxes of maternity wear, tiny baby clothes, nursery furniture  an avalanche of luxury goods that filled rooms, a physical manifestation of his overwhelming focus on the future, on the 'real family' he was finally getting. He would spend evenings with his head against your growing belly, talking to the baby in a soft, almost reverent tone that sent shivers down your spine.

"Can you feel that, little one?" he'd whisper. "That's your daddy. I can't wait to meet you."

Yet, the past still lay between you like a chasm. Your coldness, the lack of genuine warmth in your responses, the way you still flinched at his touch sometimes none of his efforts, none of the lavish gifts, none of the baby preparations had bridged the gap created by his betrayal and the force with which he'd brought you back. And despite the pregnancy, despite your growing discomfort and exhaustion, the forceful intimacy hadn't entirely ceased, though perhaps less frequent. It was a constant reminder of the power imbalance, of your body not being entirely your own, even now.

He was tired of it. Tired of the distance in your eyes, the polite mask you wore. He wanted the past erased as easily as he erased people from his life.

Already 4 months into the pregnancy, your body heavy with the child you were carrying, the silence in the vast apartment was broken only by the distant hum of the city. You were in the living room, curled on the plush sofa, feeling tired and weary. The physical toll of pregnancy mirrored the emotional exhaustion that had become your constant companion. The silence within you was louder than any external sound.

Alec came home later than usual. You heard the subtle click of the lock, the quiet closing of the heavy door, signs that he was trying to be unobtrusive. But the air around him was thick with a different energy tonight, a coiled tension that prickled your skin. He didn't come straight to you, which was unusual. His footsteps led away, likely to his study. You heard the low murmur of his voice, sharp and commanding, on a phone call. You couldn't make out the specific words, but the tone was unmistakable. Power. Control. Finality.

He hung up, and the apartment fell silent again before his footsteps approached, slow and deliberate this time. He appeared in the doorway of the living room, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he smoothed it into the familiar mask of the devoted partner. He came to sit beside you, the sofa dipping slightly under his weight. His arm went around your shoulders, pulling you gently against his side. You stiffened slightly, a reaction he still seemed hurt by after all this time. He sighed softly, a sound that was half genuine fatigue, half performance.

"Rough day?" you asked, your voice flat, devoid of the warmth he constantly sought.

He pulled you closer against his side, his hand beginning to stroke your arm in a slow, repetitive motion that was meant to be soothing but felt like another chain.

 "Something like that. Dealing with loose ends." He paused, his gaze fixed on something across the room, then it shifted to you. The intensity was back. "I'm tired of you being upset, Y/N. Tired of you looking at me like that."

"Like what?" you asked, turning your head slightly to meet his eyes, careful to keep your own expression neutral.

"Like I'm still the villain," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur, laced with a frustration you recognized. "Like you can't move past it." His hand, which had been stroking your arm, moved down, resting gently, almost reverently, on your belly. The unintended life growing inside you. "We're having a baby," he continued, his tone shifting, trying to conjure a shared dream. 

"We need to be happy. A real family."

A real family built on lies and coercion, the silent thought screamed in your head. Before you could respond, before you could decide whether to voice the bitter retort or simply sink deeper into the silence, there was a knock on the apartment door. Not the usual soft chime for staff or expected guests, but a hesitant, slightly fumbling rap. It was a sound that felt out of place in this meticulously controlled environment.

Alec got up, a strange, calculating look on his face. He went to the door, opening it just enough to peer out into the hallway. He said something low, too quiet for you to hear, his body language unreadable. Then, he swung the door open wide.

Standing there, framed by the opulent doorway, looking fragile and gaunt in cheap, ill-fitting clothes that hung loosely on her frame, was Ada.

She was a ghost of the woman you remembered  the confident, sultry woman who had strolled into your life and flaunted her brief, destructive entanglement with Alec. Her usual loud makeup was gone, replaced by a sallow pallor. Her eyes, once bright and challenging, were wide with fear, darting around the opulent hallway and into the apartment. Her face was drawn, her lips chapped. She looked like she hadn’t slept, or eaten properly, in weeks, perhaps longer. 

You felt a shock ripple through you. You hadn’t seen or heard of Ada since Alec had systematically dismantled her life. You had thought you would be angry when you saw her again, incandescent with rage, or even jealous, some lingering ember of insecurity flaring up. But now, seeing her standing there, pathetic and broken, all you felt was a profound, unsettling pity. She was only a shadow of the woman she was, clearly physically and mentally devastated by whatever torments Alec had subjected her to.

"Come in, Ada," Alec said, his voice carefully neutral, devoid of warmth. 

She stepped inside hesitantly, her eyes still darting around the vast, luxurious space. They landed on you, standing by the sofa. A flicker of something  shame? terror? crossed her face before her gaze dropped. She looked terrified, undeniably and utterly petrified of Alec.

"Ada," you said, standing up fully now, your voice surprised, guarded, and tinged with that strange pity.

"Y/N," Ada whispered, her voice hoarse, barely audible.

Alec moved slightly behind Ada, placing a hand lightly on her back, not a comforting touch, but a subtle, firm nudge, as if they had choreographed this moment beforehand. Ada flinched instinctively at his touch, her body tensing with fear.

"Y/N" Alec said, addressing you but looking at Ada, his eyes conveying a silent, chilling command. "Ada needs to tell you something."

Ada swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the expensive Persian rug. She wrung her hands nervously. Alec’s gaze remained fixed on her, a silent pressure urging her to speak.

Finally, she raised her head, her eyes finding yours. They were filled with a raw, miserable honesty. "Y/N," she began, her voice trembling. "I... I messed up. Badly."

You watched her, your expression unreadable. Part of you wanted to hear it, wanted the apology she owed you, wanted some acknowledgment of the hurt she had caused. But another part of you just wanted this spectacle to end, wanted her gone, wanted Alec’s disturbing control to recede, even for a moment.

"I was jealous," Ada confessed, her voice gaining a fragile strength as the words tumbled out, whether from a desperate need to placate Alec or a genuine need to unburden herself, you couldn't tell. 

"So, so jealous of you. Of what you had. Of... of how Alec looked at you" She gestured vaguely towards Alec, a flicker of defiance in her eyes that was immediately quenched by a terrified glance at him.

 "I saw how perfect your life seemed, how everyone admired you, and I wanted it. Or I wanted to ruin it. I don't even know anymore."

She took a shaky breath. "When he... when Alec and I... it meant nothing to him. It was just a moment. But I thought... I thought I could use it. Use it to get under your skin, maybe even break you two up." She shook her head, a pained, self-deprecating smile touching her lips. 

"Stupid, I know. I didn't realize... I didn't realize how far he'd go." Her voice cracked. "I thought I was hurting you, maybe hurting him a little. I didn't know he'd... dismantle everything. Everything I had." Her gaze dropped again, filled with fear and regret. "I'm sorry, Y/N. Truly. I'm so, so sorry for sending that message, for everything."

You looked at Ada, at the wreckage of a woman standing before you, and then at Alec, standing behind her, his expression unreadable, observing the scene he had engineered. You saw the fear in Ada’s eyes, the visible flinch away from Alec.

"Ada," you said, your voice quiet. "Your life is ruined. You said it yourself. Because of him." You gestured to Alec. "What good is an apology now?"

Ada looked from you to Alec, her eyes widening in renewed panic. She seemed to understand, the unspoken purpose of her presence dawning on her fully. "I... he said... he said if I just came and explained, he'd... he'd help me. Let me go."

Alec’s face remained impassive. He stepped closer to Ada, his large frame looming over her fragile one. "She's explained, Y/N," he said, his voice dangerously smooth. "She's confessed her... jealousy. And her mistake."

Ada let out a small whimper, a sound like a trapped animal. She tried to step away from Alec, her eyes darting frantically towards the door.

Before you could process his words, before Ada could react, Alec twisted. His right arm snaked around Ada’s neck from behind, his forearm pressing against her throat with brutal force. A sickening crunch echoed in the silent, opulent apartment, a sound that instantly stole the air from your lungs. Ada’s eyes bulged, wide with shock and agony. Her hands scrabbled weakly at Alec's arm wrapped around her neck, her body convulsed for a brief, horrifying moment, a silent, desperate fight for a life that was already gone. Then, her body went limp. The brief struggle ended as quickly as it began. Alec released her, and she crumpled to the expensive rug, a heap of bone and cheap fabric, utterly still.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the rapid, frantic beating of your own heart. You stood frozen, your body trembling uncontrollably. On the floor, a woman lay dead, her neck unnaturally angled, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Alec stood over her, tall and unruffled, his chest rising and falling evenly, as if he had simply swatted a fly.

You trembled, not just from the shock, but from the sheer, mind-numbing horror of his delusion. He had just murdered a woman, a woman whose life he had already systematically destroyed, right in front of you, in your home. And for what? To remove the ghost of a mistake he had made? To somehow make you forget?

Alec turned back to you, his face softening, the tension of moments ago replaced by a sickeningly calm, almost tender expression. He took a step towards you, closing the small distance between you and the dead body on the floor. He reached out, his hand, the same hand that had just broken a woman’s neck, gentle as it moved to rest on the swell of your belly. His touch felt like ice through your dress.

Your breath coming in ragged gasps. "Alec... what... what have you done?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“This is a fresh start, baby,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress. “She’s gone. You won’t have to be plagued by what happened anymore.” He smiled, a gentle, loving smile that didn’t reach his cold eyes. “It’s just us now. Our family.”

[the-janitor-esc]

There is a letter outside the Janitorial Office. It is a dark brown envelope with some clumsy golden handwriting, reading ‘Jan 💛’. It had no address on the front, but on the back Dr Worm has written that the letter is from themselves, and given their new address, too.

Contained within is a letter in normal ink, on a sort of pale cream yellow paper.

Dearest Jan,

Darling. This place is incredible. It’s so safe - nobody had died yet, or even got anything more than a little scratch or a bit of glass in their hand from a broken piece of glassware!

Everyone is so very lovely. All of my coworkers are so nice, and they’ve been ever so kind to me. Oh, and there is… well, there’s some very cute scientists here. They are so pretty.

My new home is nice. Percival got his portal running! I’m so proud of him, to think that he’s so talented in such a vast array of disciplines - thievery, music, and now science (does being pretty count too?) - and that I am fortunate enough to have his company. I have been visiting the Centre every night, though I have been very unfortunate to have avoided running into you. I did make an effort to check your office a few times, but you weren’t in when I stopped by. I understand, because I know you’re so busy working hard. I can’t wait to give you the tour.

That’s actually why I’m writing this letter. I was wondering if, if you have the time, of course, you would like to come and visit me? It’s not far at all, I’m just in the next city. I put my new address on the envelope, so you can find me. Or you could take the portal. Which would be much easier.

I’m looking forward to hearing from you. I’d love to know how you are, what you’ve been up to, everything, really. I miss you.

Love from James <3

*scooping up the letter to take back with them to Sub-basement 5.5; wouldn't want Spice eating it or the cyberspiders cleaning it up as a mistaken threat* *getting changed and sitting down at their workdesk; writing Dr. Worm's new address into their journal*

*reading fondly* *glad Dr. Worm seems to be in a safer lab center now* *amused at Dr. Worm finding the new coworkers pretty and praise for Sir Balderdash; they do agree regarding Sir Balderdash* *apprehensive at traveling by anything other than portal after the last few run-ins; has no doubts in their supped-up sportscar, but would rather it not get firebombed or ran off the road or anything else*

*leaning on their desk, tapping the letter against their cheek* *planning* *laying out some clothes and looking for twine*

[ The Next Day]

*taking Sir Balderdash's portal to Dr. Worm's address* *dressed casually; using their cane and carrying a bouquet from their garden* *approaching the reception desk*

[turbobeebee]

I have this thought in my head when I imagine if Okarun and Momo were to get married and have children in the future and what kind of parents they would be…

I feel like they would have 2 (at most 3) kids together

Ken Takakura as a father:

- He would be reading all the parenting and child-raising books he could get his hands on. He’d have piles of notes and be up late at night weighing the pros and cons of different parenting styles

- He would be especially cautious with his first child, cushion every surface they walk on, keeping a close eye so he can be ready to catch them if they were to fall

- His heart would be bursting with joy at his baby’s milestones. First steps, first words, he would write all of it down so he could have an exact record of every achievement

- though he’s not the best at making up stories, his nighttime routine to put the kids to sleep would involve telling them about how vast the universe is, filling their minds with dreams extraterrestrial worlds (friendly ones, as he doesn’t want to give them nightmares)

- He’s equally attentive to his wife (Momo) as he is to the children. He’s quick to scoop them up and get them out of her way when the house gets too hectic.

- His eyes would sparkle with pride attending their recitals, baseball games, talent shows, spelling bees… whatever his kids get into, he’ll be supportive all the way.

Momo Ayase as a Mother:

- She would be endlessly grateful to Okarun being so proactive before, during and after her pregnancy. She would still make the effort to help around the house despite her husbands constant fretting for her to sit down and relax

- She would take all the photos of their little family vacations and contribute to her husband’s documentation of their children’s lives. Together, they would make a beautifully cohesive scrap book

- Momo’s children will be FASHIONABLE. Even as toddlers she would gush about all the cute outfits her babies can wear. Knowing as they get older they will eventually decide for themselves, but right now, how could she NOT put them in cute animal onsies

- Attending school events and competitions, Momo would be heard cheering the loudest for her kids.

- at bedtime, when its her turn to tuck them in, she would have the most whimsical, fantastical stories to tell. Her husband would sometimes be standing nearby, listening intently to her as well.

- Momo would train her children early to start focusing their chi. So yes, she will make them hold their fingers over their heads as they walk to school just like her.

[aloesarchives]

Birthday Special(JJK Oneshot)

TW/Warnings: Domesticity, AFAB/Female Reader, Family life, Slight self-coded Fem!Reader

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her, Mom/Mama (Though no physical description, reader had some self-coded elements)

Word count: 1.5k words

Decided to write something because today is my birthday(May 3rd)! And I'm officially 21! Thank you all for you love and support for the past 7 months of me writing for JJK! Also, this is the Valentine's day I referred to.

“Papa, you’re thinking too hard about this. You know Mama doesn’t ask for much.”

“Yeah, Dad. It shouldn’t be hard to get mom a present. Remember that full-size green tea hand and body lotion you got her? She was way too happy about it and was on the verge of crying happy tears.”

Toji sighs as his kids are behind him trying to ease his stress. Once again, like Valentine’s day, he was struggling to get a present for you. But this time, the stakes are higher because today is your birthday. Not some holiday Toji remembers because it’s one of the many times of the year capitalism does a complete take over for the sake of consumerism, which he can never avoid every time he goes out.

Though his kids have a point, he always wanted to do or get something for you. While you do the occasional mall shopping, it wasn’t often. Maybe once a month if lucky. This always posses a problem for the three because you were the best gifter in the family. Knowing what to give to anyone but only hinting at minute items. Thus having to think outside of the box or really watch your eyes latch onto anything longer than seven seconds. 

Megumi and Tsumiki don’t blame Toji for struggling since your demands weren’t demands but rather promises. You have been nothing but good to Toji for almost two decades. Something Toji knows many people take something like that for granted. Unfortunately, becomes terrifying to know how easily many fall under a dark spell. And Toji fears himself on certain days for not giving what you deserved.

“I know, Megumi. But your mother deserves nice things for herself. She still wears the necklace I gave her when you two were young. That’s almost ten years. Now, you both do some scooping while watching the time. We have to get the cake at 3:45pm.”

The siblings looked at each other before shaking their heads in helping their father’s hunt for a perfect present. They looked around the vast sea of stores to give themselves for any ideas. They were overthinking this whole process because every idea was shot down at the reality that you did have everything you ever wanted.

You have everything you ever wanted is what you always said to them.

Perhaps there’s something else they can give you that reminds of that. The lightbulb above Tsumiki’s head went off as she asked Toji the jewelry store he got the necklace from. He becomes curious as she scans the windows for something until stopping and pointing. Toji and Megumi look over to a display of multiple charm bracelets. 

“If Mama has the necklace with us in it, why can’t she get a matching bracelet to go along with it? She doesn’t have one that does.”

Now, Toji and Megumi were seeing Tsumiki’s vision.

“Good eye, kiddo. Shame on me for not thinking about that sooner.”

Toji lets Tsumiki handle the bracelet creation, occasionally having him and Megumi to be on the same page. Once finalized, Toji goes to fish his wallet for his card to give to Tsumiki to pay. After printing the receipt, the lady gives the card back but it ends up dropping onto the marble counter. Megumi cringes at the metallic clanging it made so he grabs it for Tsumiki to give back to his dad. Everyone in the store glances over at them as Toji puts the card away. Megumi raises a brow at his father because Toji had a smirk plastered on his lips.

“Why are you smirking?”

Toji pockets his hands as he looks at him.

“Don’t worry about it, Megs. Just know there aren't a lot of people with metal credit cards. Anyway, we gotta get movin’ because we need to pick up your Mama’s birthday cake and food for dinner.”

Tsumiki joins them as they head off to finish birthday shopping. Once getting home, they set up everything for you to come home to. By the time you come home, they’re done. Making your presence known, you relax into your humble abode. You walked yourself into the kitchen to see what your family has set up for you.

“Happy Birthday, Mom!”

You're greeted by a hug from each of your kids. Chuckling at the surprise they always seem to do when the day is about you. You hold them close and kiss their foreheads as their hugs re-energize you. Once parting, they made way for their father as your husband stands over you. Holding that dumb grin that you fell in love with over these years.

“Happy Birthday, Doll~.”

Giving a forehead kiss of his own, he holds you ever so softly but with the affectionate firmness. You giggled at how Toji is when it comes to physical touch. He can’t seem to get enough of it. Before eating dinner, you wanted to blow out the candles so they could eat the cake afterwards. The kids say their part and end with “We love you, Mom. Always.” Toji cracks a joke that always makes Megumi roll his eyes before getting into his own sentimental speech.

“Thank you for spending almost 20 years of your life with me. Happy Birthday, (Y/N).”

Ugh, and that softness he had at the end. Made you want to kiss him with all the love and warmth. You thought it’s time to eat dinner when Toji pulls out a small pink bag and places it in front of you. Surprised, you looked around at your family.

“What’s this, guys?”

“It’s for you, Mama. From us.”

Though curious, you smiled as you looked into the bag and pulled out a small box. Upon opening it, you couldn’t stop the smile that took over. There, in the box, was a silver charm snake chain bracelet with a small (F/C) gem at the center of a beautiful silver heart charm. But that’s not make you smile. It came from when your eyes landed on the other three charms attached to the bracelet. Two of those were dangling charms, one of an elegant flower and the other of a small silver puppy. The other charm was a clip-on with the colors of dark blue and black. You recognized them to represent the three that ultimately fulfilled the word “family” for you. 

The flower is Tsumiki as it was her favorite color, the puppy was obviously Megumi, and the last one is Toji for sure. Your smile began to painfully pull at your lips because you realized Toji’s charm closely resembles his wedding ring. Clasping the bracelet on your wrist, you admired how it looked on you.

“It was the kids’ idea to do this. I just paid for it, Hon.”

You knew Toji’s lying but didn't have it in you to call him out. This gift was just too perfect. You go over to give your motherly affection to thank Megumi and Tsumiki, your two children that gave meaning to your motherhood. Once having enough, you go over to Toji. The man you undoubtedly cherish and completely devote yourself to, your husband and your other half. You hug Toji lovingly, taking in his warmth and presence. Nothing in this world brings you comfort and ease than the man you choose to love never made you regret giving your heart and soul to.

Toji just chuckles with his signature grin, returning the hug with the same amount of affection. Yet your children can see the adoration and tenderness in his eyes, knowing full well he never looked at anyone that way because you’re the only one to bring it out of him. Looking up at your Toji, your gaze softens but your smile still holds its homeyness. He stares down at you before he leans in for a kiss you gladly accept. Even Megumi smiles with his sister while watching their parents express their love for one another, seeing them pull away from the kiss.

“They’re truly your kids since they always knew how to give me gifts. It goes with my necklace now. Thank you for this.” Saying as you smile up at him.

“Ah~, they knew because they have  good eyes. Just like their mama. Happy Birthday, (Y/N). Thank you for your love…and thank you for being you.”

The absolute tender affirmation was unlike any other. Though your birthday was a reminder of how many years you’ve been on here, it also serves as a reminder of your milestones over the years. Looking at your life, you got the best out of it. A family of your own and the love from someone who’s been with you through it all. As you tell Megumi and Tsumiki to go ahead and eat, you lock eyes with Toji. Both filled with a love no one can feel except the two of you. Toji hugs you close from behind as you interlace your hands into his, feeling your bracelet pressed up against him. Gazing upon Megumi and Tsumiki, both of your creations born out of each other’s unmatched love for one another.

This will be added into one of your many best birthdays you had.

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[venturesofficialgf]

Accidental stimulation. Reader and Venture come into close contact, which leaves Venture aroused.

reader is female but ill use more gender-neutral pronouns for them, I'm not an amazing or consistent writer so if you have any critiques, please feel free to comment just keep it nice and civil!

Summary: Venture and you had been training in the practice wing, models of different enemy's and teammates running around robotically as venture teaches you the ropes

a/N I've always thought of what type of weapon id have if i was an overwatch character and i think I'd have a 2 toned GIANT syringe who shoots medicine and poison. so, like ink if a divider inside the tube and these giant syringe with a trigger and lever it sounds like moira in a way but now that i think about it...i might have to think harder on my overwatch weapon

although this isn't my first time writing this is definitely my first time posting so go easy on me! its about 2900 words

enjoy!

TW; Smut! MDNI, PiV, Hair pulling, calling venture a doggy! more dom afab reader! Venture has a cock! porn with plot

You had just finished off the first round of level 3 against a robot junker queen, her body movement was really jerky and uncalculated as her torso hit the ground almost evaporating as Venture gives you a huge smile, their voice enthusiastically echoing through the vast room.

"Way to go Mi amore!"

They gave you a high five as you give off a sheepish smile, your weapon leaning against your hip as you catch your breath.

"I still don't know what you're calling me!" you call back, venture gives a light chuckle, brushing you off with a small shove.

With a gun ho attitude Venture patted your shoulder as you composed yourself, readying your weapon once again before nodding at venture.

You asked Venture to startup and they enthusiastically obliged, words of encouragment leaving their lips.

"You got this Y/N!"

Venture wistled as they activated the countdown, hand on their excavator, for safety precautions as theyd tell you.

The Ai voice sounds as it counts down, Sloan leaning against their excavator, all smiles as they adoringly watch you.

"2....1.. ready for battle" A giant Muaraga comes around the corner, guns ablaze. Bullets flying towards you as you hide behind a wall, worry and unsureness lacing your face.

you looked at Venture for a brief second as they just nod encouragingly to you, their thumbs held up with a smile.

You give a small huff, your abilities unsuited for such a unit, guns blazing before clicking indicating the robot needs to reload, so you take your chance, lunging off the wall and shooting at the huge bot, its damage indicator glowing as it grunts and gives a low line with Maugas voice.

once it finally reloads its guns you realized how fucked you were. "shit-" His guns go ablaze again, round after round as you run getting grazed by his bullets. red blood seeping down your exposed thigh as a string of curse words left you mouth.

Venture quickly grabs their excavator as you frantically look for a way out, their mind gears turning as they burrow under the ground, a huge boom resounding through the practice range as they power jump up and swiftly makes quick work of the fake Mauga, a lopsided grin adorning their features as you hunch over, breathing hard.

their about to scoop you up before the ground they emerged from starts cracking, a worried expression adorning your features as you look down, loud bumps being heard from under the two of you before the ground takes you both whole. A commically loud scream leaves both your mouths as Sloan try's  to grab you, shielding your fall, a loud "mmph! fu-ck!" being heard as they hit the pavement with you landing hard on them.

You quickly sat up, worried words spilling from your mouth as they sit up with an heavy groan. you check Ventures head while looking for yours and venture's weapon before realizing its not with you.

you try to move off of Venture, the small space you seem to have found yourselves in make it awkward to really move as you give light apologies.

after a minute you give up trying to stand as Venture sheepishly smiles at you, their lap your new seat until further notice.

"can you contact someone mi amor?"

"i can try"

You begin to turn your watch on, a small projector screen emanating as you try to get a bar.

smut:

Ventures tried looking around the long tunnel like hole you two found yourselves in, the odd burrow had caved in, Sloan internally groaning at the fact as you shifted in their lap, Your free hand gripping their shoulders as you sat up, your body trying to mold itself around Ventures lap. You huffed in annoyance, a cute pout on your face which caught Ventures eye.

Sloans mind was reeling at the circumstance, their mind trying not to focus on the tiny space and you in their lap while you huffed profanities about the predicament, one of which Sloan couldn't help but rub their neck nervously about.

while you kept raising your arm trying to catch a signal Sloan couldn't help the passing thought about how big they were compared to you. I mean sure venture knew they were pretty tall, taller than average, and they also knew they were more on the bulky and fleshy side but seeing how short and just all round smaller than the hero was had their mind fuzzy....

You fiddled with your radar, trying to get contact by moving your arms as far up as you could, signal bars barely flickering as you leaned so far towards venture, albeit ignorantly, promptly causing your chest to be shoved right into your teammates face.

oh boy-

Your face scrunched up in exasperation as you then dropped your arms back down in defeat, sitting fully back down on ventures lap with a loud sigh

Venture couldn't help the deep blush creeping up their tanned complexion, between the tight space and you on their lap they let out a Shakey breath as they tried to fix their eyes and turn their mind on literally anything else in the *literal* hole they dug themself.

Venture then realized you've been talking, their mind so focused on trying to keep calm, as you rambled about something they barely picked up on.

"can't believe this- Venture?" You tilted your head at your partner as their quietness had caught your attention.

"Are you sure you're okay? you might've bumped your head on the fall" Your worried face was what poured gas on the fire, their body suddenly erupted in heat as a nervous chuckle escaped them. "pff me? I'm fine really!"

their flushed face was what worried you as you placed your palm over their forehead, gently feeling if they had a fever from the fall

With you leaned in your other hand shifted on ventures lap, the softness of your hand pushing oh so nicely a little too close to ventures "little friend" had them paling, they really didn't want to ruin this with a stupid hard on.

"you dont have a fever but just to be sure theres nothing wrong right?"

"Nothi-ngs wrong! I'm great! better than ever really! ha-ha what could possibly be wrong? i mean aside from the obvious hole and us stuck and-" Venture started rambling on, shooting nonsense out of their mouth as you gave a giggle, your laugh reassuring ventures feelings for you as they tried to calm down.

after a bit You moved again, your hips alternating the pressure putting it on your other leg as you leaned up a bit more, venture making a choked noise as you fully sat, a strange feeling under you making you slightly uncomfy.

ventures knees were up against the other "wall" of the hole while their back was against the other one, their hands on the ground as to keep themself somewhat upright as you continued to adjust yourself on their lap, your knees close to their hands momentarily bumping ventures fingers before you spoke again, slightly confused and a bit frustrated.

"can you move your belt? I'm sitting on something a bit odd" you give a sheepish smile as you motion to what you sat on, causing Ventures face to falter and look at you with pure horror.

Your face contorts to pure confusion, unsure of what to make of ventures reaction. Why were they just staring at you? like that none the less?

then came Ventures apology? a slew of "Sorrys!" and "please just ignore it!" flung out of their mouth as realization dawned on you.

Venture was aroused.

You couldn't help the blush that seemed to poof onto your face, your body instinctively shuffling around making ventures predicament worse. your squirming caused Ventures hands to fly to your hips, strong fingers pinning you down to stop your movements. your face was red and nervous as heat from your core suddenly started pooling within you.

feeling Venture underneath, you, the outline of them firmly against your clothed core had your heart racing. Their fingers strongly keeping you in place with a small gasp leaving your mouth.

venture couldn't be more mortified even if they tried, their tongue continually moving against their chipped tooth as they tried to speak, leaving you to watch their wet muscle move in languid strokes, somehow making you hot and bothered.

you let yourself take in the situation, venture a flustered, blubbering and aroused mess. the two of you alone for, mercy knows how long, no way really *out* and watching venture messily try to explain themselves surprisingly has you becoming quite hot on your own,,

now or never

you let a smirk grace your lips, a newfound confidence swelling in your chest as you leaned your face in, hot breath fanning over Sloans face as they whisper your name questioningly.

 your soft hand came up to their face watching Sloan avoid your gaze with the cutest blush gave you an insane kick of heat pooling inside your gut

"Sloan~" you drawled out their name, you couldn't help but tease. Their face was too cute as they chewed their lips trying to hide from the world as you lightly grinded down. Sloan chokes on their voice before their eyes snapped to look at yours.

"Well, Sloan?" you roll your hips this time, clothes ruffling as you graze over their arousal, a small whine leaving their lips.

"Need some help?~" Your voice danced on heat as your eyes flickered down to their plush lips, your tongue wetting your own "if you want of course" your voice melts their Armour, a rushed nod coming from them as they quickly speak up "ah Mi amor, I want nothing more than your hel-p, please" Your name leaves Ventures lips in a whimper, heat building in your core as you smile at them giving them a sweet kiss.

Ventures mouth opens before taking your lips in theirs.

 It was hungry and downright nasty with the way their tongue made its way in your mouth, desperation laced in whines being taken into the others mouth. Their cold tongue piercing skillfully rubbing against your tongue made you squirm, their cock rubbing against your clothed cunt making a loud moan escape into the kiss.

"Fuck baby~" Ventures voice sounded; kisses being shared in a frenzy.

"Sloan~" their name barely audible as the two of you kiss, mouths wet before pulling away for air.

"Sloan, fuck, call me Sloan again mi amor" your fingers find their way to Sloans hair lightly pulling on the curly locks with a fast nod, and you couldn't help the wet smile gracing your features as your grind against them, a loud whimper being ripped from their throat as a small one leaves yours.

"Fuck yeah, just like that baby~!" They held your hips with their calloused hands, guiding your cunt, before kissing you again, your tongue lolled out as they sucked it into their mouth this time, your tongue exploring their warm embrace. You couldn't help the moan that slipped out as their hands gripped onto your hips, moving you against them as your tongue swirled with theirs.

When you pulled back for air you couldn't help the dopey smile that lit up your face, your heart felt hot as you kept rocking with Sloan, fuck were they perfect for you.

With your brain muddy from lust your hand began to move on its own, soft fingertips going under the hem of Sloans sweater, eager to touch as much skin as possible as your hips grinded away.

sloan quickly shed their top throwing it behind you before doing the same with your shirt. hands making quick work of any belts and accessories, Sloans gasps and desperate whines echoing in your ears as you pull down your shorts, clumsily ridding them off your body while sloan struggles to unzip their pants.

Impatiently you lightly smack their hand away, pulling the zipper down swiftly before pulling their cock out.

a small moan escaped your throat as you lazily stroke the hot muscle, it twitching deliciously in your hand.

sloan whimpers against your neck, their teeth lightly biting down as they try to ground themself.

Infatuated you start to tease Sloans tip, the mushroom head a blushing red as pearlescent liquid cries out of it, your thumb gently spreading venture's cum across the head before stroking back down, gently caressing the prominent vein on the underside.

Sloan was...thick to say the least, not very long, standing at about 5 in a half inches you'd say but what they lacked in length they made up for in size. Their dick twitching with every stroke you lolled out your tongue, your spit dripping onto Sloans cock with a loud cry from their mouth at the makeshift lubricant.

Sloan had been a biting and whimpering mess as you did all this, their hands shakily making their way to your panties, shoving the fabric aside to let their middle finger slide through your slit, unskilled fingers toying with your entrance before entering, their thick digit causing a moan to slip through your praise.

"fuck i wanna take my time with you Sloan but right now if i dont get you inside of me i might explode" You give a breathy laugh as sloan nods, their whines not hiding anything as their fingers are quick to retreat.

you kiss them a few times before hovering over their cock head, the blushing tip almost teasing your entrance as sloan pants, their hands back on your hips with a vice grip as yours are on their shoulders.

"FU-ucK~!" Sloans voice cracks as they moan, the word being hottest thing coming from them as their dick breaches your hole, the thick shaft giving you quite the stretch as you pant in heavily, legs slightly shaking as you inch your way on them.

A slew of whimper came out of Sloan as you finally sat fully down, their girth causing you to take deep breaths as you get used to the feeling. 

sloan grabbed your neck, pulling you in for a kiss with a needy moan, their tongue clashing with yours as you messily make out, their cock twitching inside you before pulling away.

"You okay Sloan?~" your voice raspy as they nod

"better...better than ever" They whisper out, their voice hoarse as they try to keep their hips from bucking.

without warning you finally start to move, your hips grinding as venture shrieks out a moan, their mouth hot against your chest as one of your hands situates into Sloans hair, slotting your fingers between strands.

your body starts pulling up, Venture's cock almost being pulled out before you slide back down swiftly, moans spilling from both your mouths as you start a Rythm

your bodys almost melting together perfectly as you both moan in synce, the pace you set hard but slow.

Sloan couldnt help but whine for more, their fingers digging into your hips with pleads of "f-Faster!"s and "more mi-mi amour~"

you couldnt help but smile, a little fucked out sure but a smile non the less as you spoke "more?~ my baby wants more?~"

Sloan continued their beyond fucked out pleas as you pulled their hair lightly, bringing your face close to theirs hotly before spitting in their mouth as they happily swallowed

"you are a good doggy~ and good doggys do in fact get rewards~" They whined and nodded furiously as you breathlessly chuckled before obliging to their needs, rutting your hips fast and hard, Ventures poor throat being dried as they couldnt stop almost screaming, their cock twitching as they moaned and whined and cooed out "thank you"s like a broken record on loop.

Your moans weren't much better as your hips snapped up and down, your orgasm coming in close as you kept talking venture through it, the twitches of their cock more frequent had you assuming they were close.

Both of you gripped onto each other for dear life, bodies sweaty and hot as you both reached your peak, your stomach knotted up before all of a sudden your nerves going numb in pleasure with a loud whimper, Sloans hot cum shooting inside you in spurts as they draw out your name in the neediest moan possible while they almost cry into your shoulder form their release.

your arms draped around venture as you held each other close, their cock softening inside you as the two of you panted for breath, both heavily breathing as you calmed down.

you stroked ventures face with a small smile, praising them through their high before they too smiled at you, a red and fucked out face showing off their chipped tooth with the happiest face in the world.

eventually the two of you did have to separate, cleaning off with ventures coat wasn't ideal but it worked for now, the two of you the standing up and trying to catch another signal.

[tojisbbg]

𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚

❝and i know that i've been the worst, but i love you better.❞  

♡ toji fushiguro ♡

a/n: need him to fill all of my holes asap! 🥰 also, two posts in one day?!

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: ex!toji fushiguro x fem!reader, age gap!! (reader is 23 and toji is 31), smutty smut (lolol), not edited.

---

it's the middle of december, the air was crispy cold outside and despite begging your landlord to put the heater on blast in your apartment; your king-sized bed always felt like an ice plate.

of course, the size of the bed was intended to be shared with another human being. your boyfriend— well, now ex-boyfriend; toji. however, the breakup between you both was sudden, ending a little bit before thanksgiving.

this was the first time in three years that you've gone back to your parent's house for the holidays without toji. it was dreadful, having to distance yourself from nosy relatives who were bombarding you with questions about where your boyfriend was.

not having the energy or heart within you to explain the whole story, you gave them the excuse that he was working on thanksgiving. it was the most believable excuse you could come up with, as your boyfriend was quite much older than you, by eight years to be precise.

of course, your parents were strictly against your relationship at first, but, just as how toji was able to charm himself into your heart, it didn't take much longer until your parents would give in and melt. toji was mature, charming and he knew how to handle you.

you both loved to spend the holidays together, not to mention that his birthday overlapped during new years. now, you're only looking forward to forgetting the vast memories of him, which continue to haunt you this rough winter season.

you were trying to find the perfect position to fall asleep in, but, your room was so cold that it made it hard for you to concentrate on sleep. it was snowing outside, and the landlord clearly didn't give a single flying fuck about your comfort.

after a few minutes of fighting with yourself, you finally could feel your eyes grow heavy with sleep. it wouldn't be long until you could hear your bedroom door crack open, eyebrows pinching in confusion.

you couldn't tell if you were hallucinating or almost about to get kidnapped or murdered in the comforts of your own house.

your heart began to thump in your chest, feeling scared minute by minute as you could hear the heavy footsteps of the figure approach your bed. you regretted everything, you wanted toji by your side to protect you from whatever monster stood in front of your body, to hold you tight in his arms to keep you warm like every year because he knew that you get cold easily.

you missed toji.

suddenly, the blanket tucked under your back and butt got lifted before there was a dip in the bed behind you. a strong pair of arms wrapped around your waist, followed by the familiar scent of the cologne and body wash that is engraved into your brain.

"toji?" you mustered up the courage to call out the name you prayed to god for. he shoved his face in the crook of your neck, and just by feeling the rough skin of his lip scar on your flesh, you knew that it was him.

"it's just me, i'm here." he mumbled into your skin before pressing a tender kiss on your shoulder.

"why are you here?" you sighed, not even bothering to tell him to stop his ministrations of kissing your nape and rubbing his hands on your hips.

"had a feeling that you were cold." toji answered in a gruff voice before yawning.

"you know we can't-"

"go to sleep, y/n. we'll talk about it tomorrow." he cut you off before scooping your body closer to his. if it weren't for the fact that this was by far the warmest you've felt in your own bed within these past two weeks, maybe you would've screamed at him before kicking him out.

---

you were grateful to whoever proposed the idea that college student should get long breaks for christmas. it was still pretty early in the morning, maybe around six in the morning? you were warm and tucked away into toji's chest the entire night as you both peacefully slumbered.

you stirred awake when you felt disconnected from his touch, forcing an eye open to see that toji turned to face the other way; leaving you could and abandoned. you whined in annoyance, scooting over to him as you tugged on his shirt. toji, who was snoring in deep sleep, groaned from the gentle shakes.

"hm?" he hummed, eyes still closed, but he was half-awake now.

"cold." you briefly said, making him let out a deep sigh.

"come here." toji replied with a groggy voice as he opened his arms to invite you into his embrace once again. you snuggled closer to him as he hugged you tight.

yet, it seemed like that wasn't enough.

you kept fidgeting in his arms, continuing to either tighten your hold on his large and beefy figure and rolling more into him until you finally rolled on top of him. you were literally holding onto him like a koala.

"jesus, i'm not going anywhere, you brat." toji groaned, feeling your weight on his body. you sat up, now straddling his waist, letting out an annoyed huff. toji decided to watch you pout through his half-lidded eyes.

suddenly, you began to take off your shirt and the hello kitty printed pajama pants you wore, roughly throwing them on them floor. toji's eyes widened as you were now sitting on top of him, half-naked.

you gave him a small glare before pointing at his t-shirt and sweats.

"off. now." you demanded, getting off of toji as you watched him sit up with his bed messy hair. he obliged to your command, not finding the energy to argue back with you or ask any questions this early in the morning.

the man just wanted to go back to sleep.

so, toji did as you said, taking off all his clothes until he was left only in his boxers. you took a minute to soak in the sight of his godly sculpted body as he slipped back into the covers.

without any hesitation, you threw yourself on top of him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. it took everything in you to not moan out in bliss as the skin to skin touch between you two immediately transmitted his body warmth to you.

toji's body was perfect for hugging during any season, especially winter time. he was like a giant and beefy teddy bear to cuddle with, his body being a natural furnace.

without thinking, you rubbed your body onto his, unknowingly grinding on his crotch. toji's breath hitched, feeling his cock harden even more than before when he saw your half-naked glory after two weeks.

"feels so warm, toji." you mumbled, pressing yourself into him as your face was buried into the crook of his neck. toji ran his fingers on the back of your thighs, while his other hand rested on top of your ass.

"yeah? i could make you feel even warmer." he smirked, bucking his hips a little up to make you feel his erection. you gasped, feeling his cock throb below your pussy, the thin fabric of your panties and his boxers not providing much of a barrier.

"t-toji.." you stammered, cheeks growing warmer against the flesh of his chest. his skin smelled like bare vanilla with a mix of cologne, it was almost intoxicating.

"shh... let me please you, sweetheart." toji softly whispered, a strong arm curling against your waist while he turned to his side, gently laying you on the bed. you were now facing the wall with toji behind you, his hands sneaking up back before unclasping your bra.

with one swift motion, your bra joined the rest of the heap of clothes scattered on the floor. toji's hand found its way to your tits, groping them as you let out a whimper.

"haven't seen these pretty tits in so long. can i give them a little kiss, darling?" he sweetly asked, your mind fogged up with nothing but the thought of toji. nonetheless, you nodded your head as you leaned a little back.

toji lifted his head before leaning forwards to give each of your nipples a kiss. the contact of his soft lips and your sensitive hard buds was enough to drive you off the edge. but, knowing toji, he's one playful man.

without a warning, he latched his mouth onto your tits. his warm tongue swirled around your swollen bud as he suckled on your nipple.

"mhmm... toji." you moaned, your hands stroking his hair as he sucked and kissed the flesh of your tits until it left purplish hickeys on your skin.

with one final kiss on the valley between your tits, he went back to his original position. toji relaxed behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist. he noticed how you were trying to discretely rub your thighs together to create some kind of friction that would grant you the relief your aching pussy needed.

"need something, y/n?" toji teased, but you were too stubborn to give in. toji's fingers were freely roaming all over your body, from dancing on your spine to rubbing your hips and ass.

"n-no." you stammered, desperately wishing for him to plunge his fingers or cock inside your cunt right now. toji's fingers played with the waistband of your panties.

"hm? you sure? seems like you need something... or rather, this sweet little pussy of yours need something from me, no?" he spoke in a husky voice, the tips of his fingers gently rubbing your pussy on top of your panties. your breath hitched, feeling him press on your clothed clit before tracing the outline of your slit. there was a visible wet patch created from your slick, making toji smirk.

"so wet for me. you missed me, didn't you?" toji asked, but you were too focused on his movements. the lack of response made him a little upset, so he gently pinched the plush flesh of your thigh to get your attention.

"oww!" you winced in pain, looking over your shoulder to throw him a glare.

"i asked you a question, baby. don't ya know it's rude to not answer your boyfriend?" he snickered, making you roll your eyes at his justification.

"ex-boyfriend." you corrected him, making him scoff.

"oh, is that so? so you'd let your ex-boyfriend play with this pretty pussy of yours, hm? slut yourself out for him? talk to me, sweetheart." toji's hand slipped inside your panties, his middle finger sinking into your wet folds. your eyes rolled back as he rubbed your sopping wet pussy at a pleasurable pace, the words in your throat getting stuck.

"f-fuck." you moaned out, feeling toji draw circles on your throbbing clit. you swallowed harshly, as toji began to rub your clit at a pretty fast pace before slowing down and sliding his fingers down to your pulsating hole.

toji shoved two of his fingers inside without a warning, making a whimper escape your lips. he was unforgiving, scissoring his long and thick digits in and out of your hole at a cruel rhythm; stretching your hole.

"nghh~ feels so good!" you panted like a bitch in heat, feeling the familiar knot forming in your lower stomach. toji felt your walls clamping on his fingers, a small smirk etching on his lips as he added onto your pleasure by rubbing your clit with his thumb.

your eyes rolled back, shutting your thighs around his wrists as a shaky hand came down to halt his movements.

"t-too much." you squealed, vision becoming blurry as you couldn't even form coherent sentences.

"you could take it, baby." toji encouraged, prying your legs open with his free hand as he gave you the most jaw dropping orgasm just from simple foreplay.

you saw white, creaming on his fingers as you let out a guttural moan.

"that's it, there you go, pretty." he cooed, helping your calm down from your orgasm as you tried to snap back into reality.

"holy shit." you breathed out, now laying on your back as you turned your head to face toji and look at him through half-lidded eyes.

you took note of the details that were already carved inside your brain of the man who owned your heart and soul. his beautiful ebony locks that always seemed dishevealed yet so soft to your touch; smelling like your shampoo because he's too lazy to get his own. his sharp grey eyes that always tease you. the supple fat of his cheek that he swore he'd get rid off but always rethinks his decision every time you pinch or bite them. his plump lips that kiss you stupid even if they're a little chapped sometimes because he's a little forgetful.

and of course, your favorite feature, the scar on the corner of his lip that you love to kiss because it's unique to him.

this was the man that you were so madly in love with, toji fushiguro. you fought wars to be with him, to get approval from your strict family, because he was an older man. but, not once have you ever regretted your decision.

to which, you were now thinking, was the reason that caused you both to break up even worth it?

"missed you." a shy glimmer graced your eyes as you mumbled those two words, catching toji's attention. he gave you a boyish smile, grazing his thumb along your bottom lip.

"yeah?" toji huskily chuckled, making you nod as you lifted yourself up before climbing on top of him. your disheaveled hair curtained his face as you leaned down to finally press your lips on him. the kiss was needy and messy, feeling toji push your head further towards him, his tongue sucking and biting your bottom lip.

you let out a whimper, opening your mouth to grant the wet muscle permission to explore the caverns of your mouth. you unintentionally began to grind your hips on his hard bulge, the wet patch on your cotton panties now dampening the front of his boxers.

toji let out a gruff groan, his hand going down to caress the supple fatty flesh of your ass before giving it a small spank, making you jolt.

you gave a tender kiss on the side of his mouth where his scar was before kissing along the outline of his sharp jaw. your wet kisses moved down to his neck as you sucked purplish bruises on his skin, all while he was groping your ass and thighs.

your mouth was practically drooling at the thought of having your boyfri— ex-boyfriend's cock inside your mouth again. you eagerly tugged down his boxers, his hard dick springing out and slapping his lower stomach.

toji was so incredibly manly, his body was gorgeous; as if the greek gods themselves scultped him. it was no use of denying the fact that you loved beefy men who could crush you in seconds with their body weight. toji was fit, his pecs were defined yet so soft; his toned abs and muscular biceps— don't forget those killer thighs and back muscles as well.

the cute happy trail leading down to the monsterous rod in his pants, which you clearly missed so dearly. you watched how his cock throbbed, the two twin veins that ran on the side of his shaft were a little swollen and his tip was red and angry from neglect; drooling with his sticky precum.

you wrapped your fingers around his cock, stroking it slowly before thumbing his tip, spreading the bead of his precum as toji groaned.

his thumb came down to brush against your lips before intruding to part them. he bit his lips, the pads of his finger feeling the wet muscle in your mouth. you licked a stripe up his shaft, starting from the base until the tip.

"fuck you're so pretty, sweetheart." a grunt left his lips, and before you knew it, the mushroom head of his cock was right in front of your lips. he rubbed the tip on your lips, the wet feeling of his precum smearing on them. you slightly opening your mouth, slowly licking the tip as you got a taste of him.

you wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking on it like candy before deepthroating as much of his cock as your mouth could take. it was almost impossible to suck and fuck the entire length of toji's dick because he was a good eight inches at least.

but, nonetheless, you tried your best to take as much in and let your hands do what was left out.

not giving you much time, toji grabbed the sides of your head before slamming his hips up into your mouth as his patience was running thin, making you gag. it seemed that all the self-control that he maintained so well all this time has completely vanished by now.

his moves were animalistic, starved and desparate.

toji began to thrust into your mouth, feeling the flesh of your cheek welcome his cock. your tongue dragged up and down his shaft, sucking in the shear length of his cock whenever he was forcing it down your throat. the twin veins grazing against the walls of your throat and against the surface of your tongue.

"you're gonna feel me exactly here." he commented with a smirk, his hand coming to your neck to slightly squeeze the area he was speaking about. he grabbed your hand before placing it on that place, then he took a hold of both sides of your cheeks.

with one long and deep thrust, he kept his word and you felt the bulge on your throat where his cock was lodged in. tears welled in your eyes, your throat burned both from the friction of his dick and the lack of oxygen.

but toji just wanted to see how long you'd last before tapping out. of course, he has no intention in killing you, but he wants to test your limits.

he continued to rut his hips, drool trickling down his cock as you choked and gagged, trying so hard to control those reflexes. but to toji, it felt like heaven because every time the muscles in your mouth and throat contracted, it hugged his cock in such a welcoming way.

"so close." he moaned out, eyes rolling back as his dick twitched inside the wet hole of your mouth that he ruthlessly fucked. you tried to breath through your nose, but it was getting a little difficult.

you felt the rush of warm liquid fill your mouth before sliding down your throat, opening your screwed shut eyes to glance up at toji. on the other hand, his eyes were closed tightly, breathing becoming erratic as he groaned in pleasure.

you tapped his thighs aggresively, wanting him to pull out before you lose your senses. he listened, taking his cock out of your mouth as you sat on your knees completely breathless. you coughed a couple of times, holding your throat as you rubbed it from the aching pain you felt.

your eyes were red and cheeks were stained with the tears that stained your rosy cheeks, eyelashes wet from it as well. you lifted your head to face him, seeing how flushed his face was as sweat coated his forehead. your eyes trailed south, seeing his cock dripping with your saliva and his cum.

"fucking asshole, you almost killed me." you said in between your breaths, glaring at him and he chuckled. leaning closer to your trembling body as he sat up, toji gently kissed your earlobe, making you shudder.

"had to make sure my little princess wasn't going around sucking other people's dick. i trained your throat pretty well, huh? but now i gotta check if this little cunt of yours has been loyal too." toji snickered, turning your body around in the position of reverse cowgirl.

you yelped once you felt him hook his forearms on the back of your knees, before pushing it up until it was besides your chest. your legs were now spread wide open as toji put you in a full nelson, his cock rubbing between your wet folds, nudging your clit as some points.

"put it in, baby." toji encouraged, pressing soft kisses to your temple. your hand went down to grab the shaft of his cock, giving it a few pumps before rubbing it on your sopping wet pussy to lubricate it. as his tip got caught in your hole, you gently and slowly began to enter the inches of his monster cock.

"ngh~ fuck, it's so big." you winced in pain, forgetting how painful the stretch of toji's cock was. it didn't matter how many times he fucked you dumb on his dick, your pussy would always be too tight for his thick meat.

"but you took it like a good girl, didn't you?" he praised, planting his feet on the bed before thrusting up into you. you moaned loudly, feeling his cock rubbing your wet walls so deliciously. the squealching sound of your pussy was pornographic.

"this pussy is mine— fuck, none of those stupid college boys could ever fuck you like i could. you're mine and only mine." toji moaned, his thrusts getting faster as his balls smacked against your ass, your hand coming down to rub your clit.

"hnghh, only yours. please! ahh~ feels so good." you were delirious, eyes rolling back from pleasure as you began to see white. your thighs were shaking as toji's thrusts began to get sloppy.

his cock twitched inside your hole, a ring of white cream already forming at the base of his dick from how much your pussy leaked on him, coating his balls in a shear white gloss.

the sticky shlick shlick sound echoed through the four walls of your shared room. tears pricked your eyes as you could feel the huge wave of your orgasm coming at you as your stomach began to tighten.

toji could sense that you're getting close, your walls clamping down on him as the tip of his dick kissed your cervix with each thrust. you turned your head to side, catching his lips in a messy and saliva filled kiss.

you both moaned into each other's mouth, cries of pleasure leaving your lips as you gushed on his cock.

"f-fuck, it's too much!" you mewled, feeling overstimulated as toji fucked you thrugh your orgasm.

"you could take it, gonna breed this pussy. maybe i'll fuck a baby into you, yeah?" toji panted and you were so cock drunk that you mindlessly nodded your head.

"yes, yes, please— fuck, give me a baby." you whimpered, and your voice was so sultry that toji came so hard inside your cunt. the thick and sticky ropes of his cum coated your walls as you shuddered from the warm feeling of being filled up with his cum.

his cock slid out, your hole being creampied to the brim as both of your cum began to gush out of your cunt. you rolled off of him, now laying besides toji as you both tried to catch your breath.

"i love you, y/n." toji confessed, turning his head to the side to look at you. that soft and lovesick expression painted on his flushed face made your heart jump.

you gave him a gentle smile, scooting closer to him before wrapping your arms and legs around him, pressing a tender kiss on his lips.

"i love you too, toji. i'm sorry for everything, i was just so angry and frustrated because it felt like forever that we've spent time together. i-i.... i got insecure and thought that you found someone better than me." your face dropped in sadness, a lump forming in your throat as you tried your best to not break into tears. toji frowned upon hearing your words before stroking your cheek.

"and why the hell would you ever think that?" he questioned and you shrugged.

"i know i'm a little immature sometimes, but i really do love you. i just don't want you to get tired of me and find a woman your age who's more mature. you know how badly people talked about us before and still do." you sighed, making toji scoff.

"fuck those people, you're mine and i'm yours. no one could ever change that, got that princess? those few weeks i got a little busy because i was working long hours to book a flight to venice for us to spend christmas together." toji smiled, making your eyes widen in shock.

"no way." you gasped, but he grinned and nodded his head, making you squeal in excitement.

"we leave next week." he informed, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. you hummed in response and hugged him tight.

"ugh, i missed my teddy bear so much... spent so many lonely nights sleeping alone." you complained, and toji rubbed your back in a comforting manner.

"my poor baby, how could i make it up to you?" he cooed.

"let me put my hello kitty stickers on your dick." you gave him a cheeky smile, making him narrow his eyes.

"naughty girl." toji snickered, his hand going down in a sly manner to grab his cock and without warning, he entered it inside your already swollen hole once again.

your breath hitched, feeling your boyfriend latch his mouth onto your nipple.

"my pretty princess." he mumbled, giving you a small wink before licking your nipple playfully.

toji couldn't wait to give you your surprise in venice, the small box resting nicely in his coat pocket.

---

BONUS:

"tojiiiii~ toji! look!!" you ran from the hotel bathroom to the bed where your fiance laid down. his sharp grey eyes peered up at you in curiosity as you showed him your phone, the diamond on your ring finger shimmering under the hotel lighting.

"what am i looking at?" toji cocked an eyebrow, watching a girl having her face squished by a guy's bicep.

"i want you to do that to me." you gave him an innocent look, and toji smirked at your request. he laid his arm flat on the bed and ushered you to rest your face.

you did so and as toji flexed his arm, your cheeks got squished and forced your lips into a pout. toji chuckled at the adorable sight of you and leaned his head down to press a tender kiss on your pouted lips.

"gonna marry you and make you mine forever."

[ghosttoastx]

*shaking you gently please give my teeny tiny ink crumbs*

How did Error and Ink meet? Does he have a nickname for him? Is anyone allowed to babysit and does ink have a favourite? Does ink have any abilities besides being the cutest ever? Is there a little Broomie and Buggy? (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ

Ask and you shall receive :3 don't mind my writing plssss I just woke up (┬┬﹏┬┬)

How They Met:

I imagine that Error finding Ink was by chance. For one reason or another, Error finds himself smackdab in the middle of a fight between Nightmare and the gang, and the Star's (since Ink isn't there, the Stars would only consists of Dream, Blue, Core Frisk, and Possibly Red). I image the whole fight shenanigan would take place in Outertale, which would be why Error was there in the first place and why he was caught off guard.

Anyways! Error gets dragged into the fight (he's very pissy about this) and in a ditch effort to get away (he was not fleeing. definitely. he would never heheh) from the conflict, he quickly throws himself through a portal, not really thinking about where exactly he wanted to go, just that he wanted some stars-damn peace and quite.

And Peace and Quite he shall receive. Kinda.

Error finds himself in a vast white expanse, taking a moment to register that this was not his Anti-Void. After some frustration, he'd begrudging sate his curiosity about the strange AU he'd found himself in and look around. Not that there's really much to see.

After examining the strangely apathetic sketches that were the residents of the world, Error would become bored or disappointed in his lack of findings. Feeling even more sour about this whole ordeal from before. There's nothing even here worth while for him to Destroy!! What a fucking rip off!!

turning tail to leave, Error goes to open a portal, though he stops and screeches the most unholy of screeches when something snags one of the ends of his scarf.

he whirls around, tugging the end of his scarf away from his pursuer, ready to rip whatever abomination decided to mess with him to shreds. He's taken off guard (again today) when the tiny thing that had decided to grab him came up with the scarf. He shakes the garment, trying to dislodge it, to no avail as (what appears to be) a small skeleton monster giggles joyously.

Error stops jostling his scarf (and in turn the tiny skeleton monster) with a frustrated huff. without warning the small monster grabs hold of Error's arm, causing him to shriek in fury and panicked anticipation.

...

But nothing happened. No sudden bursts of glitches, no buffering no nothing. Error stood there, dumbfounded as the skeleton clung happily to him, completely unaware of Error's internal conflict.

After a moment, Error haphazardly (albeit hesitantly) grabbed the wretched abomination, holding him at arms length.

He stands there in the whiteness, staring intensely at the small skeleton. Whatever else this anomaly might be aside, the thing was definitely a child. Aging was weird in the Multiverse but Error would have to guess that the kid was maybe two?? Three years old?????

Error continues to stare at the kid for a moment, debating with himself, before sighing a heavy 'fuck this shit' and plops the kid back on the ground (was it even ground?) turns and walks away into a portal.

...

. . .

. . .

It took all of 30 seconds for Error to reappear, scoop up the kid, and reenter a portal to the Anti-Void.

-------------------------

Okay. That ramble ended up becoming more of a drabble heheh oopsies. I might write a proper drabble later to better execute the idea. Preferably not this early in the morning next time lmao

Anyways!!! Moving On!!!

Nicknames:

I don't really think Error himself would give Ink any nicknames. At least not any endearing ones. But I feel like some of the others might have nicknames for him. And by nicknames I'm referring to things like 'kid', 'kiddo', 'bud', etc. etc.

I feel like Ink himself would give nicknames to the others as well. but like. he'd be bad at it. I feel like he'd just do that thing where you add a 'y' at the end of someone's name. Like 'Blue' would be 'Bluey' or something. 'Dream' 'Dreamy'. You get the idea.

Nightmare have and 'y' nickname would b interesting I feel tho. 'Nightmare' would be 'Nighty'. which could lead to Nightmare being reminded of himself and Dream when they were younger or something which could be reallyyyy interesting to explore heheh. But!! that'll have to be for another time >:3!!!

Babysitting:

Error's a busy guy, destroying AUs and stuff. As much as he'd hate it, He'd definitely need a babysitter for Ink while he was out. Not only to keep an eye on him, but to also keep him company.

Ink wouldn't like being left in the Anti-Void alone for long periods of time. Despite the Anti-Void and Ink's abandoned AU not exactly having the same feel as one another. The Anti-Void is still a vast expanse of whitespace.

Optimally, out of all of them, Error prefers to leave Ink with the Stars more often than not. More Specifically Blue, but Dream and Core Frisk (sometimes Red too) kinda just come as a package deal.

Error's not to keen on leaving Ink with Nightmare and his gang to frequently. Mostly because their group is much more...unpredictable. I suppose. (Error doesn't appreciate their efforts at encouraging Ink to play 'pranks' on him.)

Ink loves all of them. he doesn't really mind who's watching him for the day. Though out of everyone, I feel like Ink would really Enjoy having Blue watch over him.

But I also feel like Ink would really like hanging out with Nightmare. Not necessarily because Nightmare is a good babysitter, but more so because Nightmare is the one to avoid him the most. Kids are curious, and Ink would be super duper curious about cool, spooky, mysterious Nightmare. So he'd just kinda hang around him.

Nightmare has a lot of conflicting feelings about this.

Ink’s Abilities:

As of right now, no one can really figure out what's up with Inks magic. it's weird and goopy and not like any magic any of them have seen before.

No ones really sure what to do with this.

Broomie & Buggy:

At this point in time, neither Broomie nor Buggy are a thing quite yet

[stargazedwinchester]

Haircare ♡ Sam

Summary: You spend a self-care day with Sam. Word Count: 896 This one's more descriptive than progressive, be honest if it's slow or boring, and I'll redo it. </3

Sam takes pride in his hair, he always has. Ever since you entered his life, he never fully took care of himself. Sure, he’d buy the occasional moisturiser, sometimes a hair mask, if he really fancied it. You hoarded a vast collection of self care products, ranging from skincare to haircare. It had always intrigued Sam, but he thought it would be wasteful to spend a lot of money and not use it.

“Hey,” Sam greets as he walks into the library. You look up at him and smile. “Hey yourself.” You reach up and plant a kiss on his lips, and he chuckles softly. “Could you give me a hand with cutting my hair? I don’t trust going to the barbers.” He laughs nervously, and you nod. “Of course I can!” You walk down toward the bathroom, but he pulls your arm back gently, making you turn around. “Do you think I could use some of your hair stuff, too?” Sam looks at you sheepishly, and you grin at him. “Yes, baby, you can.”

You place Sam on a stool in the bathroom. He looked silly sitting on something so small. You take sections of his hair bit by bit and snip the ends. Honestly, he had pretty healthy hair, a few split ends, and it felt soft. To say they have the shit kicked out of them every other day, Sam���s quite competent at looking after himself. You take the scissors to his hair, then brush the loose hairs from his shoulders. He sat shirtless, as it was easier to get rid of the loose hairs, rather than them sticking to his shirt.

You wouldn’t complain either way.

You indicate Sam to stand up, wafting at his toned chest and broad shoulders. “All done.” You admire his torso, his muscles relaxed yet still prominent. You could watch Sam in awe for the rest of your life. He glances down at you before tenderly moving past you to turn the shower on. He undresses and ushers you to do the same.

The droplets barely patter down on your chest. Sam’s large frame blocks the full power of the showerhead. He leans back and dampens his hair, and you take a quick look around for products to use on his hair. You have many to choose from, ranging from drugstore and salon brand. You decide on a higher end one, a deep purple bottle. Squirting a small amount onto your hand, you emulsify it by rubbing your hands together. Sam leans down, bending his knees so you can reach. Your fingertips massage the shampoo into his scalp. He takes over whilst you apply some on yourself as well.

“Leave it in for 5 minutes,” you advise, and he furrows his brows.

“Why?”

“If you leave it to soak in, it’ll work better.”

“Ah.”

You gingerly place your hand on his chest, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek. Innocently, he cups your face and lays a kiss on your forehead, then another on your lips.

You both wash the product out of your hair, you reach for a small, beige tub and scoop out a moderate amount. “So, since you have shorter hair, you won’t need to use conditioner,” you instruct, preparing to put the hair mask on his hair. “This is a hair mask. It’ll keep your hair soft but won’t overbear it with moisture.” You tell him, and he looks puzzled. You can’t help but giggle at his face, like he had no clue. He allows you to work in the mask anyway, trusting your intuition.

After the shower, you dried off and Sam sits with a towel around his waist on the bed. He’s still somewhat damp, but insists he can sit there and dry off naturally.

“You wanna do some skincare?” You ask him, and he raises his eyebrows. “Like… face masks?” Sam questions, and you nod. “We can even shape your brows.”

“You are not touching my eyebrows.” Sam spat, immediately reaching to touch his brows, as if to protect them from you. “Aw, come on, Sam!” you moan, hoping that he will give in. He laughs heartily at your response, then shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“You’re boring.” You turn away, sifting through the various packets and tubs of face masks. “A sheet or a tub?” You ask, holding up one of each. He hesitates. “A… sheet?” Sam sounds unsure, combing his damp hair through with his fingers. You put the tub down and get the sheet mask ready. Luckily, you have two of each, so you can match with him.

You pass him the mask and you both apply it to your faces. It’s slimy and cold, making Sam pull a face of disgust. “There’s no way you find that gross.” You point at the mask, and he freezes. “What do you mean?”

“You kill monsters, Sammy. That’s more revolting than putting on a face mask.” You cackle. Sam admits defeat and touches his face once more.

You decide to put on a movie whilst the pair of you are relaxing after a long, hard day of self-care. Sam shuffles across the bed so you can lay next to him. He raises his arm so you can bury yourself in the nape of his neck. His arms wrap around you, squeezing you into a bear hug.

[bestducky]

Master Chief x fem! Reader

Chapter 5: Echoes Over Requiem

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary:

A deeper descent into Requiem reveals more than just enemy resistance. Strange reactions, fractured voices, and moments of eerie connection begin to unsettle (Y/N), as the team presses forward under growing pressure. What once felt accidental now feels... intentional. And the further they go, the harder it becomes to ignore.

The portal’s glare faded, abandoning them on a broad shelf of obsidian rock. Windless air tasted of ash; narrow veins of cyan light pulsed beneath a skin of black glass. One ragged cliff loomed on their right, its face slick and sheer, but the land to the left fell away into shadow—open enough for anything to circle.

“Pylon’s still ahead,” Cortana said in (Y/N)’s earpiece, her words tiny against the vast hush. “Stay alert for local defenses.”

Then came the claws.

A click-click-click from above. (Y/N) looked up: something six-legged and metallic crawled along the cliff, eyes glowing molten orange. Two more scuttled behind it, hugging the vertical stone like spiders.

Cold shot through her limbs. “Chief—”

The Spartan raised his rifle, just a bit too late. The creatures vanished over the rim with unnerving speed.

Heart hammering, (Y/N) started forward, desperate to put open space between her and that wall. Sadly, she wasn’t fast enough as the crawlers returned and  cut her path from both sides. With no choice she ran, half slid down a shallow slope of loose basalt shards. Chief called for her to wait, but adrenaline blurred his words. She rounded a jut of stone—and suddenly the cliff was at her back, cutting her line of sight to him.

She spun, searching for a safer vantage. A waist-high Forerunner block sat a few meters ahead, its surface pocked with plasma scars. She dove behind it, chest heaving.

Silence. Only the low seismic hum of Requiem’s machinery.

Her gaze fell on a dead Grunt sprawled at the block’s base, its claw still wrapped around a plasma pistol. “Better than nothing,” she muttered. She pried the weapon free—slick with congealed purple blood—and wiped the grip on her jeans.

Behind her, claws rattled against stone—dozens now. She dared a glance over the block.

Crawlers lined the cliff ledges, orange eyes glittering. They weren’t charging yet; they were watching, pinning her in place while more skittered into position. Pack tactics. Box the prey, then collapse.

She ducked, breath short. Okay, engineer—figure it out. Touching all around the alien gun she held something and a  green orb lanced the barrel, whining hotter and hotter. She’d seen Grunts fire these—hold, release. Easy.

A shadow vaulted the rock to her right. She popped up, released. The charged bolt punched the Crawler’s head clean through; fragments sizzled across the ground.

A triumphant gasp caught in her throat—until the pistol screamed red and a wash of heat flared across the frame. Metal bit her palm. She cursed, dropping the gun; scorched skin throbbed instantly, blisters blooming across her lifeline.

“Cortana, gun’s trying to melt my hand!”

“It overheats after a full charge,” the AI replied, voice calm but crackling with static. “Short bursts.”

“Great—safety tips after the fact,” she hissed, scooping the weapon again with her good hand.

The Crawlers chose that moment to surge. They flooded the slope, claws skittering, splitting around her cover. One leapt for her flank—she fired a quick, under-charged shot. The bolt nicked its shoulder; it staggered, then lunged again.

A thunderclap cracked the air—Chief’s assault rifle. He appeared at her left, shields flaring as he absorbed return fire from head-spines. Three-round bursts shredded the closest pack members; splinters of neon alloy scattered like sparks.

“Move,” he ordered, stepping in front of her, stance wide.

She moved behind a pillar behind him, plasma pistol cooling in her raw, stinging hand. “Not planning on staying!”

They backed toward the open side of the clearing. Crawlers regrouped behind basalt outcrops, then rushed as one; the pack howl felt more insect than canine, a metal buzz inside her skull.

Chief hurled a frag. White fire blossomed, vaporizing half the charge. The rest broke and scattered, vanishing into the labyrinth of stone.

Silence again—save for the ringing in her ears.

She flexed her burned hand, wincing. “Official review: one star. Weapon literally bites.”

Chief racked a fresh magazine and swept the ridge once more. Nothing moved—only shattered crawler husks cooling in orange embers.

(Y/N) flexed her scorched hand. The skin was angry red, blistering along the crease of her palm. It throbbed with each heartbeat, but she clenched the pain tight behind her teeth. No med-kits, no downtime—just forward.

Chief glanced at her injury, visor reflecting the blistered welt. She met the gold faceplate and managed a quick nod: I’m good. Go. He turned, moving toward the archway that led deeper into the rock maze. She followed, cradle-holding the still-cooling pistol in her unburned hand.

The passage beyond angled left, then opened onto a flat shelf of dark stone. Sharper wind funneled through here, carrying distant metal groans. Chief advanced a dozen paces ahead, scouting the next bend.

Something blurred out of the gloom—tall, skeletal, plated in shifting silver armor. The same type, like those machines that appeared before they went through the first portal. It landed on Chief like a falling anvil, hard-light blade carving sparks off his shield as it drove him to the ground. The Spartan’s rifle skittered away.

(Y/N) froze, terror icing every nerve. She raised the plasma pistol, but Chief’s armored bulk filled her line of fire—one wrong squeeze and she’d hit him, not the monster. The Knight reared back for a killing strike. Panic overrode pain; she hurled the gun with all the force her burned arm could muster. The weapon clanged off the Knight’s helm.

It wasn’t damage, but it was a heartbeat of distraction. Chief rammed an armored boot up into the creature’s abdomen, hydraulic strength flinging it off. Mid-roll, he snatched a combat knife from a slot inside his forearm and drove it up beneath the Knight’s chin plate. The construct convulsed—light channels stuttering—then disintegrated into a cloud of white embers.

Silence snapped back. (Y/N) realized she was panting, tears of pain and adrenaline blurring behind her glasses.

Chief retrieved his rifle, then picked up the scorched plasma pistol where it had clattered. He eyed its slightly melted casing before handing it back hilt-first. “Good throw.”

She took it with her trembling good hand, a half-laugh breaking loose. “Improvised projectile: effective, still overheats.”

The corner of his visor dipped—a micro-nod of approval—then he turned toward the pylon’s looming silhouette ahead.

(Y/N) wiped her eyes with a sleeve, swallowed the burn in her palm, and fell into stride next to him. Terror still rattled in her bones, but beneath it a small spark of pride glowed: she’d distracted a monster long enough to save a Spartan.

Cortana’s voice burst into both headsets—double-layered, half a beat out of sync.

“I’ve— I’ve discovered something about our new friends. Th-e flash we saw when that big guy died was a data purge. I traced it; they’re designated Promethean Knights. The data after that is… is… a bit dense though.”

Her words jittered, two tracks sliding over each other before snapping back into one. (Y/N) felt the tiny hairs rise on her neck. She glanced at Chief; he was already looking her way, visor reflecting the same unease.

“Cortana?” (Y/N) asked, voice low. “You okay? You sounded… layered.”

A pause—then Cortana came through steady, if a shade too brisk. “I’m fine. Pulling telemetry in real time strains sub-routines; nothing to worry about.”

The sentence ended with a faint digital hiccup. Chief’s helmet tilted, but he said nothing.

“We should keep moving,” Cortana added, clear again. “Gravity lift to the pylon is thirty meters ahead.”

Chief nodded once, retrieved his rifle, and started down the basalt path. (Y/N) flexed her scorched hand, fell in beside him, and kept one ear tuned for any more fractures in the AI’s voice as the dark corridor swallowed them.

A jagged cliff hemmed the path ahead, its face washed in violet lightning that flickered like a slow-motion strobe. Chief eased to the edge, assault rifle tracking the gloom. (Y/N) crept up beside him, clutching her half-cooled plasma pistol with blistered fingers.

Across the fissure a trio of silver figures flickered in and out of phase—Promethean Knights, their armor glowing like metal embers. Each time they vanished, an after-image hung for a breath too long, as if reality hadn’t caught up.

“More of them?” Chief muttered.

“Similar phasing activity at the edge of our sensors,” Cortana answered in both headsets. Her voice split for half a syllable, recombined. “We’re about to get busy.”

She wasn’t kidding. The canyon floor narrowed into a crooked valley beyond the ledge, hemmed by sheer black rock. A Forerunner spire rose out of the stone, its white panels humming with inner light. Lightning forking overhead briefly silhouetted a doorway on the far side—their route to the pylon.

Chief dropped from the ledge first; (Y/N) followed, boots skidding across slick basalt. They hadn’t taken three steps when a Knight bled into existence ten meters away—shoulders broad, hard-light blade already forming. A feral bark split the air as Crawlers poured out of crevices, eyes a swarm of orange coals.

“Cover!” Chief snapped.

(Y/N) dove behind a fractured boulder just as the Knight unfurled a disk from its back. The plate blossomed into a hovering similar looking machine  that snapped open like a metal lily, rain-lighting the canyon with defensive shields.

Bolts sizzled overhead. The plasma pistol in her burned hand felt like a brick—overheat light still amber. She ducked lower, heart hammering, and risked a peek. Chief laid suppressing fire on the Knight; blue shields burst and re-formed in rapid cycles while Crawlers skittered up vertical slabs, firing from every angle.

(Y/N) forced a breath, remembering Cortana’s advice—short bursts. She snapped from cover, squeezed off two quick shots. The green plasma splashed across a Crawler’s carapace; it shrieked and fell apart in molten shards.

The pistol immediately flashed red, heat searing the healing blisters. She bit down a cry and dropped behind the rock, tears stinging her eyes. Short bursts, great. Still a branding iron.

Chief rolled a frag under the Knight. The blast blew its shields and sent the Watcher spiraling. As the construct tried to regenerate, (Y/N) hurled her cooling pistol like a fastball; it cracked into the Watcher’s sensor stalk, knocking the drone sideways into Chief’s rifle line. One burst and it vanished in a burst of white code.

The Knight roared, blade raised—too slow. Chief slammed forward, shouldering the giant off-balance, then drove a knife into the glowing fissure of its helmet. The Knight spasmed, and with a data-purge flash it disintegrated. Crawlers, suddenly leaderless, skittered back up the cliffs. Two observing Knights on the ridge surveyed the carnage, exchanged a silent decision, and phased out in amber static.

Silence returned, punctuated by the distant crackle of lightning arcing across the artificial sky.

Cortana’s voice—this time perfectly clear—broke the hush. “All remaining contacts just phased beyond sensor range. Good work.”

(Y/N) leaned against the boulder, breath ragged, palm throbbing. “Remind me to patent ‘throwing-gun’ tactics.”

Chief retrieved the battered plasma pistol, offered it back grip-first. “Effective.”

“Only if you like third-degree souvenirs.” She flexed her fingers with a hiss, then managed a crooked grin. “Thanks for the assist… again.”

He gave a small nod toward the illuminated doorway on the far side of the valley. “Supplies inside. Move.”

They crossed the clearing—past cooling shards and scorched stone—into the triangular entrance at the spire’s base. Inside, soft white light revealed stacked Forerunner crates: pulse grenades, scattershot rifles, columns of glowing ammunition coils. Relief washed through (Y/N) at the sight of un-scorched weaponry.

Chief triggered a storage pod. Panels irised apart, revealing a tidy rack of Forerunner sidearms. He took the smallest—its barrel aglow with amber filaments—then turned to her and offered it grip-first.

“Boltshot,” he said. “Hard-light. Low recoil.”

(Y/N) curled her fingers around the weapon; it thrummed, as if testing her pulse. He pointed farther down the hallway where a Crawler writhed half-embedded in a malfunctioning gravity plate—pinned, legs scrabbling but unable to advance.

“Safe target,” he explained. “Short press on the trigger—let the vents cycle.”

She nodded, leveled the sight, and squeezed. The bolt sizzled wide, splashing harmlessly against the wall. Heat rushed to her cheeks. Great. Useless again. She opened her mouth to apologize—

“Easy,” Chief said, before any words escaped. He stepped in, voice a calm baritone. One gauntleted hand settled lightly on her upper back; the other nudged her elbow down, rotating her forearm slightly. “Relax your grip. Exhale. Don’t fight the drift—wait for it to settle.”

His touch was surprisingly gentle—precise, not hurried. She felt the steadiness of his armor against her shoulder blades, the quiet certainty that she could get this right.

She drew a slower breath, let it out, and squeezed again. A crisp bolt punched straight through the Crawler’s core; it burst into white sparks and went still.

A small console on the wall pulsed to life. Cortana’s hologram appeared in miniature, offering a pleased nod. “Center-mass hit. Well done.”

She bounced on her toes before she could stop herself. “Ha! Right in the—” Realizing the squeak in her voice, she cleared her throat, smoothing her expression into something she hoped resembled Spartan calm. “I mean… better.”

Chief released her arm, visor dipping in a rare, wordless approval. “You’ll do fine,” he said, then gestured toward the yawning lift at corridor’s end.

She holstered the Boltshot, the warmth of his reassurance lingering like an invisible brace around her shoulders.

The gravity lift stopped,  setting them down on a broad plateau dominated by a single monolithic structure—the one (Y/N) had glimpsed from below. In the storm-lit gloom it looked less like a building than the trunk of some titanic tree, its silver bark veined with lightning-bright conduits that climbed into cloud.

No guardians waited outside. The main door, a triangular aperture rimmed in turquoise, slid open at their approach like an invitation.

The entry hall fanned into three corridors, each sloping toward a smaller chamber. Through the glass between the rooms, suspended in the center of every room hovered a hand-sized orb—pure hard-light, spinning slowly inside a lattice of transparent struts.

“Power nodes,” Cortana said in their ears. “Drop all three, the outer shield collapses.”

Chief scanned the branching halls. “Split. Faster that way.”

He gave (Y/N) a brief, searching glance—checking resolve, not seeking permission—then jogged left. She swallowed, tucked the Boltshot close, and darted down the right-hand corridor.

Her passage ended in a compact hexagonal chamber. The blue orb hung chest-high, crackling with contained energy. Shadows shifted overhead—Crawlers pacing rafters—but none engaged. Fine. Quick and clean.

She braced, exhaled just like he’d taught her, and squeezed off three measured shots. Hard-light pulses shredded the orb; it imploded with a sharp thunder-crack, showering the room in cobalt sparks.

A roar—silent yet deafening—tore through her skull.

UNSANCTIONED. FRACTURE.

The ground seemed to lurch. She slapped a palm to the wall, fighting dizziness, then pushed herself back toward the junction. Gripping the gun harder with her unhurt hand, she aimed it as steadily as she could, towards the enemies coming her way.

Halfway there, Chief’s rifle hammering echoed from the opposite wing—then a distant detonation signaled his node’s destruction. Cortana’s status ping popped in (Y/N)’s ear, overlapped with a hiss of static. “Second node down. Your vitals are—are—” The feed stuttered, words doubling before clearing. “Reading spike in local aggression patterns.”

Aggression arrived an instant later.

Knights phased into the hub, armor burning orange. Watchers shrieked down the central shaft, throwing energy shields—but every glowing visor locked not on Chief, who was sprinting toward her corridor, but on her.

“Why do they all suddenly hate me?” she gasped, back-pedaling.

Another mental snarl answered, closer, hotter:

 YOU .WILL. BREAK.

She suddenly glimpsed  at Chief rounding the far corner just as a Knight leveled its scattershot. Reflex sent her diving sideways, but not far enough. The blast scored a molten line across the outer meat of her thigh. Heat, impact, and white noise fused into a single, blinding pulse. She hit the alloy floor, Boltshot skittering free as blood soaked Into cloth as she let out a pained scream.

Sharp fiery pain keened up her spine; tears sprang unbidden. Crawlers closed in, jaws sparking.

Chief reached her in two strides. His armor flared with shield impacts while he laid down a wall of gunfire, forcing the pack back. He knelt beside her, one gauntlet pressing firm against the bleeding groove to slow the flow.

“Stay with me,” he said—voice a low anchor in the chaos.

Through the ringing in her ears she managed a tight nod, biting  her own lip harshly to keep from crying out. The disembodied voice receded, replaced by Cortana’s steadier tone—still glitching at the edges but urgent.

“One node left,” she reminded them, static fizzing at the end of the sentence. “Drop it and we can get to the pylon.”

Chief’s visor angled toward the final corridor; Knights were already reforming to block the path. His free hand pushed her sidearm back into her trembling grip.

“Short bursts,” he murmured, like it was still a lesson on an empty range—then rose to meet the oncoming storm.

The tower’s heartbeat pounded in the floor, in her wound, in the distant angry voice… but (Y/N) braced her good leg, wiped blood from her palm, and sighted the first Crawler that dared crest the barricade.

A few good shots and she leaned against the wall, vision swimming, copper taste blooming at the back of her throat.

Chief wheeled from the blast, rifle already up to cover her—but the instant he saw the blood darkening her pant leg, his stance changed. He moved back to her , gauntlets testing how deep the scattershot graze had carved. Hard-light shields shimmered close enough that the static pricked her skin.

His visor offered no expression, but the silence stretched—a calculation she could almost hear: Two nodes down, one to go, hostiles regrouping. Leave her here? Risk more fire with her limping?

“Go,” she rasped, forcing the word past clenched teeth. “Finish it. I’ll—” She couldn’t think of a brave follow-up, so she clamped her palm over the gash and managed a shrug. “I’ll be fine…surely.”

Chief’s head angled toward the final corridor: a narrow throat of alloy where Knights were already phasing back in. His hand hovered as if to lift her, then withdrew. Decision made.

“Stay behind cover,” he said—not an order, but a trust compact—and vaulted the railing into the hall.

The moment he broke her line of sight, Crawlers lurking on the rafters turned on her. Instinct flared: she dragged herself behind a console bank, ignoring fire that spattered the floor plates. When she risked a look, Knights were concentrated on Chief’s position, but half the Crawlers angled toward her—pulled, she felt, by that unseen fury still echoing in her skull.

She braced and bit back a cry as she stood, and snapped three Boltshot pulses at the lead pack. Two fell. The others skittered for angles; she ducked again, heart hammering.

From deeper in the hall a crack of gunfire, a frag detonation, then Cortana’s voice—clear for once: “Last node destabilized—shields dropping!”

A seismic pop rippled through the pylon. Crawlers flared white and vanished. The angry voice shrieked once— ANOMALY —then guttered out like a lamp deprived of oil.

Footfalls. Chief re-emerged, rifle smoking, and headed straight for her. He didn’t speak, just swept a sure glance over the corridor to ensure all hostiles were gone. Then his hand extended. She slid the Boltshot into its clip, swallowed a fresh wave of pain, and let him haul her upright from her slightly crouched position. A dull throb pulsed in time with every heartbeat, warm blood seeping through the charred gouge in her thigh. The node’s thunder still rang in her ears, but now that the fight was over each step felt like walking with a red-hot spike lodged in her muscle. Chief had already started toward the inner lift when she caught his elbow.

“Wait—knife,” (Y/N) managed, breath thin. “I need… something to tie this up before it turns my leg to jelly.”

He paused, weighing distance to the lift, the dwindling timer in his visor, her paling face. Then he drew the combat blade from the slot on inside his forearm, slid it out and reversed the grip, hilt offered across the short gap between them. Even in pain she registered the gesture: a Spartan handing over his last close-quarters weapon. Trust again, quiet and matter-of-fact.

The moment her fingers closed around the handle, the weight of the day—every firefight, every portal—seemed to pool in the wound. She knelt against a cooling console bank, teeth gritted, and sliced a wide strip from the hem of her undershirt. Fabric ripped with a wet hiss; the knife edge was surgical.

Don’t think about how deep it is. Don’t think about infection, stitches, and all the other deadly diseases. Just stop the bleeding and keep moving.

Cortana’s projection shimmered over a nearby data post, voice pitched low. “You have eighty seconds before the next Knight patrol cycles through this level.”

“Plenty,” (Y/N) muttered, forcing her hands steady. She folded the cloth twice, pressed it hard against the open groove. Fire raced up to her hip. She hissed, then wrapped the makeshift bandage, knotting it tight on the outer seam—just like the first-aid trainings she barely remembered from freshman year.

Chief stood over her, rifle angled down-corridor. His constant stillness felt like a wall she could lean on; without it her fingers might have betrayed the shake climbing her wrists. When the knot cinched, blood blotched the fabric but no new rivulet escaped the edge. Good enough to stay vertical.

She held the knife out, handle first. “Thanks.”

He slid the blade back into its sheath, then offered an armored hand. She gripped it—bandage already damp—and let him lever her to her feet.

Pain flared but held. She tested a step, then another. “That’ll walk,” she said, forcing a crooked grin. Got to keep the weight forward, bend the knee slow, don’t show the limp more than you have to.

Chief’s visor dipped—confirmation—then he turned for the lift. She followed, each stride a hot pulse through fabric, but steadier, anchored by the rough comfort of cloth and the memory of steel offered hilt-first.

The platform lifting them up towards the pylon stopped and the lift doors parted with a hiss, spilling them onto a narrow tongue of alloy that jutted into the open sky. Wind whipped across the summit, carrying the metallic tang of ionized air. At the prow of the platform a squat control dais rose barely waist-high, flanked by a massive curved lever locked into a circular track. Beyond it, the pylon’s primary emitter raged— a pillar of violet-white energy roaring straight into the clouds, bright enough to halo Chief’s armor in refracted light.

(Y/N) limped after him, thigh throbbing, eyes watering from the beam’s glare. No holopanels, no displays—only the unending thunder of the energy column and the rasp of their respirators in the thin atmosphere.

Mid-stride, Chief’s posture snapped rigid. A voice crackled inside their shared squad channel—garbled by distance but unmistakably human:

“—aptain Andrew Del Rio, hailing any survivors of the UNSC Forward Unto Dawn; we’re approaching your last known position—”

(Y/N) heard almost nothing, but after seeing  Chiefs posture she asked.

“Who is that?” she called over the wind.

“Captain of Infinity,” he answered, already moving faster. “They found our distress beacon.”

Cortana came through both earpieces, her tone sharpened by interference: “The beacon was dragged into Requiem with us. If Infinity follows it they’ll hit the gravity well.”

Chief gave a single, decisive nod—conversation over—then ran the remaining meters to the console. Up close the lever looked even more daunting: a solid bar of Forerunner alloy as thick as her thigh, recessed deep into a grooved socket. The outer ring of the track bore heat-scoring and centuries-old gouges—evidence no mechanism assisted this motion.

He planted his boots, wrapped both gauntleted hands around the grip, and heaved. Metal groaned, servos in his suit howled under sudden strain. The lever shifted—an agonizing centimeter—then stalled. A second pull wrenched it farther. (Y/N) braced instinctively, startled by how slowly it moved despite the raw power behind every motion.

That thing must weigh a ton, she thought, watching the way his muscles strained even through the body suit.

With a final, grinding lurch the lever slammed into its end stop. A concussive THOOM rippled outward as the emitter’s base turbines spun down; the violet shaft flickered, guttered, and collapsed into a fountain of fading sparks that drifted into the dark sky like fireflies.

Wind died to a low moan. The sudden quiet rang louder than the beam had.

Cortana’s voice, edged with relief: “Beam offline—Requiem’s gravity well weakening.”

A fresh portal shimmered open at the edge of the platform, its surface rippling like liquid glass. Chief stepped through first; (Y/N) limped in his wake. Cold rushed over her skin and the summit’s violet glare vanished.

They emerged inside Requiem’s vast core chamber once more—high on a gantry overlooking the planet-sized machinery. Far across the abyss, the second beam pylon stabbed upward, still firing its lance of light into the haze. Dark silhouettes drifted around it: Covenant drop-craft, phantom shapes sliding along gravity rails toward the tower like carrion birds homing on a wounded beast. Farther out, the fractured crescent of a cruiser hung in low orbit, pulse engines bleeding violet flame.

“Covenant are ahead of us,” Cortana warned, voice thin with distance. “Then let’s make sure we get there before they do.” Chief responded.

A new portal blazed open at the end of the platform towards the second pylon. Covenant Phantoms arced toward that distant tower, violet thrusters carving fire-bright seams in the murk.

Chief moved to the threshold, then paused. He glanced back at (Y/N), visor dipping to her hastily bandaged thigh, then up to meet her eyes—as if weighing the wound against the fight still ahead.

She straightened despite the burn. “One pylon down, one to go,” she said, forcing a wry grin. “Second pylon, second chance.”

The faintest nod—approval, resolve—passed through the golden visor. Satisfied, he stepped into the shimmering gate and vanished in a swirl of light.

(Y/N) tightened her grip on the Boltshot, drew a steady breath, and limped after him—into the portal’s glare and toward the last column waiting on the other side.

[naffeclipse]

Hello there, sliding an ittitbitty idea thats been in my head since I finished Apex Polarity (fantastic read).

AP, everything starts and ends the same, just that when Orclips transforms Photographer they turn into a sea butterfly (Clione limacina). If Eclipse was possesive with them as a normal size human, he'll probably go ultra feral and protective with his little pearl-size wanna make mate.

That'll be all from me at the moment. Thanks for writing such incredible fics, all of them. Kisses and have a good day <3

That is such an adorable thought! Eclipse is still so possessive and the photographer is just having the worst day of your life (so far) but you're just so cute and tiny! Look at one!

Also, I love this little tidbit because I didn't know where these creatures live but!!

It fits!! Y/N becoming a tiny sea butterfly siren is so lovely!

Eclipse would always have you in his palm. Everywhere he goes, he's cradling you close and gently protecting you from waves and ice flow, which would be sweet if it weren't for how you became this. He especially adores your beautiful colors and how diaphanous you look. It's difficult for you to wrap your head around how you became so small and, well, admittedly, pretty. Eclipse loves your wings matching your birdie nickname but he also begins calling you sea angel.

You're not thrilled by any of these developments, of course. It's frightening how vulnerable and tiny you are. You have to cling to Eclipse's thumb to not float away. Once or twice, you slip between his fingers in some bid to escape but Eclipse scoops you up and reminds you in a low snarl why they can't leave him. The ocean is so vast and full of dangerous predators, and you have to stay with him.

How can you tell an apex predator no when he could eat you up in one bite?

[fanfoolishness]

Patching Up

After the events of The Return, Crosshair realizes Batcher's in need of patching up. It turns out she's not the only one.

Spoilers for 3x05 The Return and 2x12 The Outpost, Crosshair, Batcher, and Hunter, angst and family feels. <3 2770 words. Illustrated!

-

It was well before sunrise when the Remora arrived back to Pabu.  Crosshair shook off the nap he’d settled into and got to his feet for landing, tucking his helmet beneath his arm.  On the bunk across the way, Omega and Batcher lay snoring, curled up together.  He smiled faintly at the sight.  

“Come on, kid,” Wrecker said softly, scooping Omega into his arms.  She yawned, wrapping her arms around his neck, but still kept her eyes firmly squeezed shut.  “Let’s get you to bed.”  

Crosshair watched them go.  He had the sense that this was something that had happened many times before; Omega small and sleepy, Wrecker there to carry her to bed.  It had looked like such a familiar action for them both.  Something in him panged at the thought.

There was a small boof noise beside him.  He glanced down in time to see Batcher nudge his hand with her muzzle, wagging her tiny tail as she eased into a vast stretch.  He patted her nose obligingly.  It was the least he could do.

He passed Hunter and Echo, deep in conversation still in the cockpit, and made his way back out into the predawn air beneath the glinting stars and swinging moon.  He took a deep breath of the fresh ocean breeze.  He was still getting used to it, the taste and smell of the clean sea air so different from Tantiss’ stale recycled scent.  His hand flinched, and he jammed his hand against his leg, willing it to still.

He clicked under his tongue for Batcher, but she didn’t attend.  He turned around.  She was sitting on the ground several feet away in an awkward pose, chewing aggressively at one of her front paws.  He clicked his tongue again, and she came this time, clearly limping.  

“What have you gotten into?” Crosshair asked, concerned.  She sat down beside him, then immediately turned to lick at her other front paw.  “Uh-uh,” he said firmly, and she stopped to give him a guilty look.

He sighed under his breath, then made up his mind.  “Stay here.”  He headed back into the ship, interrupting Echo and Hunter and their poring over the data retrieved from the datapad.  “I need a medpac.  I think the hound is wounded.  Nothing serious, but I can check her over.”

Echo nodded.  “Of course.  Back near the bunks, third crate.”

“AZI might be able to take a look at her, too,” said Hunter.  “You could ask him --”

“The medpac will do,” said Crosshair shortly.  I’m sure AZI could look at your hand for you…  No.  He didn’t need the droid for this.  

Crosshair followed Echo’s instructions, collecting a kit with basic supplies.  He left out the diagnostic scanner -- he doubted it had been calibrated to lurca hounds -- but took the bandage materials, hyposprays and splints, wondering if he would need to make a human wrist splint work for the hound’s blocky leg.  

He headed back outside… and the damn hound was gone.

Of course.  Try to help the creature, and it had taken off.  He scanned the mesa for movement beneath the stars and the solar lamps, eyes flicking across the landscape, but came up short; only a few moon-yos scampered across the ground, their dark shadows clear in the dim light.  He put his helmet on, toggling on thermal vision.  Ah.  A chunky heat signature was nudging open the gate at the little house they’d been taking meals at.  She was nothing if not predictable.  

He caught up with her in a few minutes, closing the gate quietly behind him.  Batcher was laying down, curled up defensively, chewing at her feet again with an appalling licking sound.  He set down his helmet on the table and slowly approached.

“Stop that,” said Crosshair evenly.  “You’ll only make it worse.”  He knelt beside her with the medical supplies and she hunkered into herself, giving him a wary expression.  He gave her a skeptical look, then averted his gaze until she relaxed again.  “Don’t bite me.”

She licked his face instead, and he scrubbed off the saliva vigorously with his gloved hand.  “No.”  She sat there panting, looking perfectly pleased with herself.  He reached for the closest paw, tugging it out from beneath her.  She tensed, but let him turn her paw over.  

Even in the starlight and lamplight, it was easy to see the issue; while her paws didn’t seem to be swollen and nothing felt broken, her pads were scraped raw, swollen and dotted with specks of beading blood.  Carefully he checked them all.  The front left was the worst, with a thick slice of skin hanging torn from the edge of the pad, but all were affected in some way.  The sight pained him.

“The ice,” he murmured.  “You weren’t made for it.”  She whined, laying down and pulling her paw away from him.  Of course a beast meant to survive the jungles around Tantiss wouldn’t have the protection against the cold needed for Barton IV.

He and Mayday hadn’t, either.

The bitter wind shearing his exposed face, fingers locked and frozen around the Firepuncher, desperately dragging Mayday closer to keep him warm --

Crosshair shook the memory off and took a packet of numbing gel out of the medpac, rubbing it cautiously on the paw with the lacerated pad.  She tolerated it surprisingly well.  He wasn’t sure how she’d take the next step, though.

He pulled out the sterilization spray canister and affixed it to the hypospray, but hesitated before using it.  He knew from experience in the field that it stung like a wyyyschokk’s bite, even if it was effective.  He had reluctantly accepted that Batcher liked him -- he couldn’t fathom why -- but he was skeptical of her ability to not bite him while using it.

He sighed.  Omega talked to the hound constantly, and she did seem to understand much of what Omega said to her.  Perhaps it was worth a try.  Might distract the beast, anyway.

“Hold still.  This’ll sting, but it helps.”  Batcher let him take her paw in his hands, but jerked it away as the mist settled onto the torn surface of the pad.  Crosshair rolled his eyes.  “What did I just say?  The wounds need cleaning.  I know it stings, but it’s temporary.”  He tried to take her paw again, and she let him do it, though her beady eyes stared warily at him.  

“There,” he said, spraying the paw.  This time she let him hold it under the full duration of the spray, though she anxiously licked his face several times.  He blinked, but kept going until he had treated all four paws, the saliva drying sticky on his face.  “Good.”  She wagged her tail.

He reached for the bandages, but frowned.  They were all pre-cut, in shapes that wouldn’t fit the irregularities of Batcher’s huge paws.  He rummaged around in the medpac, coming out with a sealant spray instead.

“We should have checked your feet after the mission,” Crosshair muttered to the hound, taking up one of her back paws and applying a thin layer of sealant.  She trembled but let him do it.  

He thought of the time Hunter had hidden a poisonous bite on some backwater world in the midst of one of their first field missions, and had nearly passed out in a field of battle droids before Tech had been able to render emergency first aid.  They’d yelled at him for ten minutes solid after the battle, furious and scared both.  His mouth quirked to one side at the memory, the squabbling, the relief.  

“Feeling better?”

She looked up at him, whimpering.  

“Not yet?  Hm.”  He reached for her next paw, shaking his head.  “That ice…  It’s brutal.”

She woofed softly, almost in agreement, as he worked on her foot.  “At least it wasn’t a blizzard,” he said.  He went very still except for his hand, which trembled against her paw.  “Mayday never had a chance.”

Batcher rumbled, rolling away from him onto her back, scratching herself on the patio floor.  She rolled back up to her side and sniffed the air, looking alert and attentive, before nudging his arm with the great crest on her head.  

“He saved my life, you know.”  He finished with the second back paw, moving to the less severely affected front paw.  The words dripped out of him, slow and difficult to speak but just as difficult to stop, now that he’d started.  “I stepped on a pressure mine.  I’d have been killed.  He could have gone on without me.”  He paused.  It was suddenly hard to breathe, despite the clean ocean air surrounding them.  He scanned the sky above him, making out the lightening of the coming dawn. 

What unit were you with?  A simple question.  One he’d heard regs ask each other a thousand times.  It was the first time one had ever asked him.

It doesn’t matter.  (Except it did.  It always had.)

Humor me.  I could use the distraction.  

Clone Force 99.  He’d been frozen, not with the cold, not even with the threat of certain death.  Answering the question had been somehow more difficult than standing perfectly still.

What happened to them?  

They’re… gone.  It had felt like a lie even as he said it.  Were they gone?

Was he?

Crosshair shivered, coming back to himself.  “It never occurred to him to leave a man behind.  Even though I told him I’d leave him in a heartbeat.”  He reached out, scratching Batcher on the spot on her neck she liked.  She leaned into it, tail wagging furiously.  Short spiky blue-gray hair clung to his glove, poking uncomfortably in spots through the fabric, but he only scratched harder.  

He finished the third paw.  “Almost done.  Worst for last.”  She wiggled away, panting, but he fixed her with a sharp look.  “Give it.”  He took the last paw, the one with the deep tear, and hoped the numbing gel had done its work.  He pulled out a vial of tissue glue.  Batcher sniffed it and growled.  “It’s this or a bandage.  Trust me, you’ll prefer this.”  

He carefully daubed the glue at the edges of the torn pad, hoping it would take.  She’d be less irritated if the torn pad could cover the wound, and there was a chance it could reattach and heal more quickly that way.  He wished they’d found it earlier; the edges of the pad were extra dry, and he wasn’t sure if they were still vital or not.  

Well, he’d have to keep checking it.  This would do for now.

Batcher sat quietly, only fidgeting a little.  Around them, the sky continued lightening, hints of color -- gold and orange -- starting up on the horizon.  Birds began to stir.  Focused on the wound, Crosshair found himself talking again.

“We were trapped in an avalanche,” he murmured.  “Mayday shoved me out of the way… saved me again.  I tried to save him.”  

He’d tried.  Oh, how he’d tried.  For a moment the gentle cool air of Pabu was a raging blizzard, the gold-edged sky a flare of blue-white mist.  The chill sank into his bones, and he shivered again, trying to hold her paw steady.  Even now he could only half-remember the terrible journey back to the outpost, the day and night of vicious, unending cold, Mayday heavy and wounded against him.  His breath came too fast, his chest searing.

“I couldn’t,” he whispered.  “I didn’t.”  He hung his head, dropping the hound’s patched-up paw, and rested his hand on her shoulder.

His neck prickled.  It’s about knowing when you’ve got eyes on you.  His shoulders slumped, and without turning around, he raised his voice.  “How long have you been there?”

Hunter’s voice, expected, familiar.  Of course.  “... a few minutes.”

“Still spying on me?” Crosshair asked, but without any real venom.  He didn’t have it in him, not after the fight with the ice wyrm, not after their talk earlier.  He heard the gate open behind him, and Hunter’s quiet footsteps approached closer until his brother sat down beside him.

“Not intentionally,” said Hunter, shrugging.  “Echo will be heading out soon.  Figured I’d come back here to get some sleep.”  He nodded to the hound, stretching out his hand.  “Everything all right?”  Batcher sniffed his hand, then licked it enthusiastically.  Hunter scratched her chin.

“The hound should be fine,” Crosshair said.  “Hurt her paws on the ice.”

“Omega will be glad you fixed her up,” Hunter said.  “You and Tech were always handiest with the medpacs.”

Crosshair sniffed.  “Except Tech actually knew what he was doing.”  They both fell quiet.  Tech always knew what he was doing.  Until --

He only knew the barest details of what happened.  He still wasn’t sure he would ever be able to ask for more, not when every mention of his brother still made his gut clench.  The birdsong swelled around them as the sky blushed gold, and he and Hunter sat with the silence, with the missing space.  

The quiet stretched, weighing on both of them.  Crosshair knew he could say nothing.  Could pretend Hunter hadn’t snuck up on him, could assume he hadn’t heard a thing about what he’d muttered to the hound, could get up and go inside and grab some sleep.  But he had to know.  

“What did you hear?” Crosshair asked quietly, looking down at his hands, at the tremor starting.  He slid his right hand behind him, where Hunter couldn’t see.

Hunter looked away.  He hadn’t seen.  Had he?  “Back at the outpost, I saw you with those helmets.  I wondered.  This Mayday… was he one of them?”

“Commander Mayday,” Crosshair said automatically.  It was important to say it.

“You lost him.”  It wasn’t a question.  Crosshair braced for it, the look of judgment, the disapproval.  But Hunter turned his gaze back to him, his dark eyes merely thoughtful. 

“It didn’t have to be that way.”  It was too painful to explain the cruelty of it all to Hunter, the guarded crates, the men’s patched armor, their loyalty discarded like another broken piece of equipment, the hiss of “clone.”  He didn’t try.  He just reached out and petted Batcher again, his hand shaking against her fur.  He hoped Hunter wouldn’t notice.  “He was a good soldier.  I tried to --”  He let out a long breath, ducking his head.  “I did everything I could.  The lieutenant could have helped him.  But he wasn’t worth the resources.”  Hatred burned the back of his throat with the word.

Hunter nodded, reaching up to clasp his shoulder.  Crosshair closed his eyes, the weight of his brother’s hand on his shoulder both utterly alien, and yet as natural as breathing.  He leaned into it, and Hunter’s hand was steady, solid, trusting.

For a moment, it felt like the old days.

He looked back at Hunter, and his brother’s face softened, a flicker of sadness shifting through his eyes like a passing shadow.  “I know this isn’t easy.  Talking’s not --”

“My strong suit?” Crosshair cracked, managing a short huff of a laugh.  “Mhm.”  It had come easier than he’d thought it would, though.  Something in his chest seemed to have loosened, like he could breathe more freely.

Hunter chuckled.  “Right.  Not always mine, either.  But hey.  We managed not to kill each other out there.”  

“True.”

He dropped his hand from Crosshair’s shoulder, reaching out and petting Batcher, who had curled up and falling asleep.  She kicked her foot contentedly as he scratched.  His voice was rough.  “I wish things had been different.  For Commander Mayday.  For all of us.”

Crosshair nodded slowly.  There were too many things to count -- Tantiss, Tech, Barton IV.  Further back, Desix, Kamino, Bracca, Kaller.  He could take none of it back.  

The only path remaining was forward.  

Crosshair clambered to his feet, reaching down and giving Hunter a hand.  Hunter took it without a beat, letting himself be helped up.  

“Come on,” Crosshair said, squinting into the dawn.  “It’s late.”

“Early.”

“Whatever.”

Hunter laughed.  “All right then.  Coming?” he asked the hound.  Batcher rolled up to her feet, frisking around them, no sign now of a limp.  “Looks like you did good work.”

Crosshair watched her prance, painless and happy.  “Just doing my part,” he said.  She nuzzled his hand, then bounded toward the building, sitting patiently by the door.  He crossed the yard to join her, passing Hunter.

“Crosshair?”

“Yes?”  

“It’s good to have you back.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, but more warmly than usual.  The door opened for him, and Crosshair stepped inside, a half-smile tugging at his face.  

It was good to be back.

[ariatwang]

Radblr, let's start a thread. How old were you the first time you were catcalled? And what happened? I was 12. I had been volunteering at the barn I volunteer at (@unjudgmentalnoob) for a couple of months. I was out cleaning the paddocks (scooping up horse shit from the fields in non barnhand language). It was close to 100 degrees outside and the staff that day was all women so my shirt was unbuttoned like 3 buttons lower than it usually is, but not completely open, and I was wearing a sports bra. I was cleaning one of the paddocks that faces the road and some man, I didn't see his face so I don't know how old he was, slowed down and hollered at me from his car. Nothing memorable in terms of content, just unintelligible vowels and maybe a "damn, girl!"

People mentally construct catcalling as a thing that only happens to drunk college age girls on the city streets at one in the morning, but it is not. The vast majority of girls have gotten catcalled at least once by at least age fourteen. This is a 100% expected thing that happens to us as kids, and so we automatically categorize it as "normal" and don't talk about it. That silence only normalizes the sexualization of young girls even more, only makes our little sisters think it's just something they have to learn to deal with, a rite of passage to womanhood, even, so let's break it.

[bellarkeselection]

3 - Escaping with a Bridgerton

Part 4

The Venus Muse

Please leave comments @abq654 @your-musicguru @imgondeletedis @eruannaaa-blog @cherrylovers-world @benedictbridgertonss @callmedarlingsstuff @carrotcaratsworld @sillynilly27 @emmampl-blog2 @bright-molina @erynel1zasworld @ynbutbetter @stranger-chan @blckbarbiedoll @sanaar3006 @urmoom12345 @ritz-hell-hotel @ritz-hell-hotel

Benedict's pov

Sitting in the main living room I was scribbling in my sketchbook until I heard someone enter the room lifting my gaze. I saw my sister Eloise sit across from me at the table. “What were you thinking the other night!”

“Good morning, Eloise. How did you sleep?” I greeted her, not sure what she was upset about.

She leans forward on the table whispering in a snappy tone. “Don’t change the subject when I know that you were alone with the Queen's daughter last night.”

“The queen has many daughters, Eloise.”

She hit her hands on the table and thankfully it was just the two of us in the room. “Princess Y/n! Now what we're you thinking.”

“I shared a dance with her. I don't see what the problem is here. Would you rather she sit there by herself for that whole evening hmm.” I questioned her.

My sister rolls her eyes. “The problem is that she is royalty and we are not according to society.”

“I'm aware of that but it doesn’t change the fact that I am a gentleman. I will not leave a lady in distress regardless of being royalty or not.”

She puts a hand over her face, sighing heavily. “Benedict, I'm just worried that if you show this girl you're attention you might give her the wrong impression. She's not a common lady. Her mother could have you beheaded if she wished.”

“I'm quite sure the princess knows that, Eloise.” Shutting my sketchbook I sent her a half smile. “And wasn't it you who told me to live my life and you would through me since women aren't allowed to do much in society.”

She sighed in defeat. “I suppose I did.”

“All I'm doing is giving the princess the same thing you asked from me. A chance to experience a life she's never known but wished she had.”

I knew my sister meant well by her response but I wasn't as worried as she was. “I care about you, brother. I truly do. But you need to be careful is all I am saying to you when it comes to this princess Y/n.”

“I think I understand what you are saying now.” I leaned closer to her, putting my elbows on top of my sketchbook. “She's less deserving of attention simply because she doesn't meet the demands of polite society.”

Eloise nodded her head yes with a sad look. “I don't wish to squash your fun. But you must remember your not in the royal standings to court a princess. Even though I think you would probably be a lot better than a snooty prince.”

“Thank you for your input, dear sister. But it's sadly not needed. I am going to keep my word to the Queen's daughter no matter what society tells me.” Scooping up my sketchbook underneath one of my arms I left the room knowing I needed to prepare a few things before I saw her tonight.

Y/n's pov

Standing out on one of the balconies of the castle I felt like I was in my own little world right here. The second I stepped over that door threshold I would feel trapped once more, even though it's been my home my whole life. Hearing footsteps coming up behind me I recognized the voice quite well. “Y/n, there you are. I was beginning to think you had run off to the horse stables again tonight.”

“Why would you think such a thing?” I asked her still looking at the vast landscape in front of me.

My best friend Glimmer had moved into the castle after my mother saw her father help my father through one of his episodes without any torture necessary like the older doctor according to rumors inside these walls. “Because you disappeared off to the horse stables during the ball the other night. I know you far too well, bestie.”

“And I know you too. So before you say anything I am not going to fall for the man I scampered off with that night.”

She came to stand beside me leaning her elbows on the balcony railing. “Why won't you embrace the possibility, hmm?” Her long dark auburn hair cascading down her back and flowing freely in the wind.

“Because it’s never going to happen. I am a princess, the daughter of King George and Queen Charlotte. I have to marry a man of noble blood and anything beyond that isn’t acceptable for the crown’s image.” Glaring lightly at my best friend I spun around on my feet entering the room and away from the balcony.

Glimmer flipped her hair out of her face, stomping up in my direction. “Oh please stop telling me things I already hear everyday. I want to hear what you really feel. I want to hear what your mother thinks about you marrying and have it not included for the benefit of her crown and royal legacy.”

“My mother has told me once that she simply wants me to be happy. It doesn’t matter who I marry, at least that’s what I hope she meant. Although it’s difficult to read her expressions when all she’s concerned with is discovering the identity of Lady Whistledown.”

Glimmer crossed her arms over her chest. “Y/n, I’m your best friend which means I need to be very honest with you. You need to find love and it won’t get done with you hiding out here. Go see him-“

“Did you hear that. What is going on outside?” We glanced back at the balcony railing hearing something hit the rail a couple of times gaining our attention. I slowly moved forward peaking over the railing side trying to see through the dark of night.

Glimmer joined me peeking over the railing herself seeing who it was throwing rocks in the darkness. “I don’t see anything - wait - wait - I think I see somebody. Look over to your right just a little bit.” I followed where her index finger was pointing to the spot, seeing a figure standing near the small rocks that were piled up along the castle wall.

“Benedict!”

Glimmer giggled gently, shaking on my arm and nearly hanging on my back. “You’re Prince Charming is throwing pebbles.”

“I can see that. Now please - stop shaking me.”

Benedict chuckled up at the two of us. He wasn’t sure what was drawing his soul towards this girl. Yet he didn’t want this current feeling to disappear away, especially if he could help it. “Princess, I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. Won't you come down and see what I have planned.”

“Are you crazy. I can't climb down those vines. I'll fall and crack my skull opened.” Pointing my hand to the thick green vines that grew outside my window I knew that was what he was referring to when he said climb down.

Benedict smiled brightly up at me gesturing with his arms out in front of his chest. I'll catch you if you fall, princess.”

“What are you waiting for. Climb down the vine and sneak off with him.” Glimmer yanked me backwards eyeing the gown I had on which was a simple blue nightgown with some white trousers underneath and my short brown boots that I would take off when I would head for bed.

I gasped smacking her hand that was holding my wrist. “I can’t sneak out with him, Glimmer!”

“For god sake do something rebellious in your life. You want adventure, well this is the start. Don't worry about your mother or the guards almost everyone is asleep anyway.” She sent me an annoyed look before I nodded and she helped me over the railing.

Managing to make it down to the ground without falling Benedict eyed my best friend whispering into the night. “I'll have her back before dawn, my lady.” I intertwined my hand with his and we disappeared into the night with me unsure of where he was taking me.

[vesanal]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊The 20th Day of Writemas₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

HEY. SO. OKAY. I KNOW. I was SOOO busy today y’all (plus my long ass nap didn’t help with my time management). It’s going to be REALLY short. Sorry!!! Love y’all so much, hope ya understand! Here is the invite post and here are the prompts I’ll be doing today! :D

Prompts used:

Feeling: The ache of a smile

Dialogue: "My feelings will never change. But by God, I wish they would."

A bit short but it’s going to be worth the long longgg wait. Still sorry about that lmao. Going back to Perce again because he is pretty cool and I haven’t written for him in a bit (if you don’t count the one line of dialogue he got some time ago).

Read about the WIP here!!

Hope ya likey! 

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Perci stared out over the stone ledge of the balcony. A view like this was an extraordinary sight to take in. Dawn’s early light reached across the sky and scooped the darkness of night into its arms, creating a landscape of bright orange and sunkissed pinks. He grazed his hand across the smoothe stone finish of the ledge he leaned over. Tracing the grooves on the light colored slate, he looked across the city’s streets. Not many populated the streets at this time of day. Most were already hard at work, having no time to play around but rather work in the vast town square. 

He shifted his focus over to the square, to the shopkeepers and merchants. Not long ago he was doing the same thing as they were. Though, he was very sure they were in a better circumstance than he was, being in the capitol and all. 

Perci rolled his eyes at himself and continued where he left off in his gaze. Happy faces and rosy cheeks filled the area. Everyone was doing their job, their part to survive. Yet somehow, their smiles created a sense of longing and uncertainty within him. He wasn’t sure whether to invite the feeling in or not. It was all just so messy now. Pain set in, he really wanted to feel the familiar warmth of his home. But he couldn’t right now. He has to do what he’s supposed to do. 

Perking up from his lean, Perci caught himself in his misery. Something bubbling beneath the surface ate away at him still. His mind wanted to reject it while body was in open arms to it. Trying to clear his head, he closed his eyes and let the mild winds pass into him much like his thoughts did. Everything and everyone came to mind. He couldn’t stop it.

"My feelings will never change. But by God, I wish they would." He breathed out with a shaking trill. 

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