#(it's not true but i did agonize over it for quite some time)

[youraveragecatastrophe]

[Image description : a drawing of characters from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego, digitally colored in a lineless style. Carmen, in her civilian clothes and with her hair loose, is hugging Player who looks as if he has jumped in her arms. A second picture shows a closeup on Carmen and Player’s faces. /End description]

Does it fuck you up a little bit to think about how Carmen’s probably-biggest source of positive physical touch growing up, Coach Brunt, tried to literally crush her to death and how it probably fucked her up regarding physical touch?

Anyway I’ve decided to draw a little series of happy moments including touch between Carmen and her family :) And who better to start with than her oldest friend, the one who’s always been there for her?

Other parts (to be edited) : Shadowsan

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Terry Pratchett about fantasy ❤

Terry Pratchett interview in The Onion, 1995 (x)

O: You’re quite a writer. You’ve a gift for language, you’re a deft hand at plotting, and your books seem to have an enormous amount of attention to detail put into them. You’re so good you could write anything. Why write fantasy?

Terry: I had a decent lunch, and I’m feeling quite amiable. That’s why you’re still alive. I think you’d have to explain to me why you’ve asked that question.

O: It’s a rather ghettoized genre.

Terry: This is true. I cannot speak for the US, where I merely sort of sell okay. But in the UK I think every book— I think I’ve done twenty in the series— since the fourth book, every one has been one the top ten national bestsellers, either as hardcover or paperback, and quite often as both. Twelve or thirteen have been number one. I’ve done six juveniles, all of those have nevertheless crossed over to the adult bestseller list. On one occasion I had the adult best seller, the paperback best-seller in a different title, and a third book on the juvenile bestseller list. Now tell me again that this is a ghettoized genre.

O: It’s certainly regarded as less than serious fiction.

Terry: (Sighs) Without a shadow of a doubt, the first fiction ever recounted was fantasy. Guys sitting around the campfire— Was it you who wrote the review? I thought I recognized it— Guys sitting around the campfire telling each other stories about the gods who made lightning, and stuff like that. They did not tell one another literary stories. They did not complain about difficulties of male menopause while being a junior lecturer on some midwestern college campus.

Fantasy is without a shadow of a doubt the ur-literature, the spring from which all other literature has flown. Up to a few hundred years ago no one would have disagreed with this, because most stories were, in some sense, fantasy. Back in the middle ages, people wouldn’t have thought twice about bringing in Death as a character who would have a role to play in the story. Echoes of this can be seen in Pilgrim’s Progress, for example, which hark back to a much earlier type of storytelling. The epic of Gilgamesh is one of the earliest works of literature, and by the standard we would apply now— a big muscular guys with swords and certain godlike connections— That’s fantasy. The national literature of Finland, the Kalevala. Beowulf in England. I cannot pronounce Bahaghvad-Gita but the Indian one, you know what I mean. The national literature, the one that underpins everything else, is by the standards that we apply now, a work of fantasy.

Now I don’t know what you’d consider the national literature of America, but if the words Moby Dick are inching their way towards this conversation, whatever else it was, it was also a work of fantasy. Fantasy is kind of a plasma in which other things can be carried. I don’t think this is a ghetto. This is, fantasy is, almost a sea in which other genres swim. Now it may be that there has developed in the last couple of hundred years a subset of fantasy which merely uses a different icongraphy, and that is, if you like, the serious literature, the Booker Prize contender. Fantasy can be serious literature. Fantasy has often been serious literature. You have to fairly dense to think that Gulliver’s Travels is only a story about a guy having a real fun time among big people and little people and horses and stuff like that. What the book was about was something else. Fantasy can carry quite a serious burden, and so can humor. So what you’re saying is, strip away the trolls and the dwarves and things and put everyone into modern dress, get them to agonize a bit, mention Virginia Woolf a few times, and there! Hey! I’ve got a serious novel. But you don’t actually have to do that.

(Pauses) That was a bloody good answer, though I say it myself.

[srslyblvck]

injured, five hargreeves

pairing: five hargreeves x gn!reader

synopsis: you and five hated each other, everyone knew that. you both bickered like children. so what happens when you are in front of his house, injured?

genre: fluff

warnings: blood, injuries

word count: 0.7k

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU NEVER LIKED FIVE. He was insufferable, arrogant, and always acted like he was the smartest person in the room—which, unfortunately, was often true. But that didn't make him any less intolerable. The feeling was mutual, and everyone in the Commission knew it. They watched in bewilderment as the two of you hurled insults at each other, yet when it came to missions, you both worked like a well-oiled machine. The IT duo, they called you, though you’d never admit you found some satisfaction in that title.

But the minute the mission was over, the bickering resumed. It was like you couldn't help it. He’d make a snide remark, and you’d fire back, both of you sparking a fire that never quite died down. It was exhausting, but in some twisted way, it kept you sharp.

Tonight, however, was different.

you were stumbling down a dimly lit alley, clutching your bleeding side, blood seeping through your fingers with every step. The world around you was blurring, spinning, and you couldn’t think straight. You didn’t know where to go, or who to turn to. Your mind was a fog of pain, but one name pushed through the haze—Five.

It made no sense. He was the last person you’d ever willingly go to for help. But at that moment, with death breathing down your neck, his house was the only place you could think of, the only place that might be safe. Even if he was the last person you wanted to see right now.

So you forced your legs to move, one agonizing step at a time, until you found yourself at his door, barely holding on. You raised a shaky hand and knocked, the sound weak against the door. A part of you hoped he wouldn’t be home, that you’d pass out here and this whole mess would be over. But the door swung open, and there he was, staring at you with a mix of shock and disbelief.

You tried to say something, but all you could manage was a weak whisper. "I didn't know where else to go..."

Your vision blurred as you felt your knees buckle, and the world started to fade to black. Before you could hit the ground, though, you felt strong arms catch you, holding you up.

Five's heart pounded in his chest as he looked down at you, barely conscious and bleeding. He hated you—no, he loathed you—but seeing you like this, broken and vulnerable, sparked something he couldn’t quite place. He muttered a curse under his breath as he picked you up, carrying you inside with surprising gentleness.

He laid you on his bed, his eyes scanning your body for the source of the blood. The sight of you like this made something twist in his gut, something he didn’t want to acknowledge. But there was no time for that. You needed help, and fast.

He grabbed a first aid kit, hands trembling slightly as he opened it. His eyes lingered on the hem of your shirt, drenched in blood. He knew he had to remove it, but he hesitated, cursing himself for feeling so conflicted. Finally, he shook his head, forcing himself to focus. If he didn’t do this, you’d die.

Carefully, he peeled the bloody shirt away, averting his eyes from anything but the wound on your side. It was bad—deep, and still bleeding heavily. He worked quickly, cleaning and bandaging it as best as he could. Every few moments, he glanced at your face, now pale and eerily still, his mind racing with thoughts he didn’t want to have.

Who did this to you? Who would dare lay a hand on you?

The thought of someone else hurting you filled him with a rage he hadn’t expected, a simmering anger that only intensified with every glance at your unconscious form. If he found out who did this, they’d regret ever crossing you.

As he finished bandaging your side, he grabbed a hoodie from his closet. He carefully slipped it over your head, his fingers brushing against your skin as he did. He was cautious, trying not to hurt you more than you already were.

As he finished, he sat beside you, his mind racing. The sight of you so vulnerable, so close to death, shook him more than he cared to admit. He hated you, or at least that’s what he told himself every time you exchanged sharp words or shot him a scathing glare. But seeing you like this stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite place—a protectiveness he didn’t know he had.

He clenched his fists, staring at the ground, forcing himself to remember all the reasons he couldn’t stand you. The way you challenged him, the way you never backed down, the way you always had to have the last word. But as he glanced at your pale face, a different thought crept into his mind—what if you hadn’t made it to his doorstep?

Five shook his head, pushing the thought away, refusing to let it take root. He wasn’t going to dwell on that, wasn’t going to let himself feel anything other than annoyance. You’d live, you’d recover, and then you’d go back to bickering like you always did. That’s how it had to be.

But for now, he stayed by your side, watching over you, waiting for the moment when you’d open your eyes and start another argument. And for once, he found himself looking forward to it.

[witchofhimring]

Being the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter reader (platonic)

Reader can either be read as the child of Laenor, Daemon, Criston Harwin or other

-As her only daughter you are especially cherished. The moment they place you on her chest she instantly, unconditionally loves you. While she does not have favorites, you are cherished.

It was with one last agonizing push that Rhaenyras only daughter came screaming into the world. "A daughter, your Grace!" With trembling arms Rhaenyra took her daughter from the midwife. Y/n Velarion's e/c eyes opened and Rhaenyra instantly fell in love. Secretly, she had always harbored hopes of having a girl. She knew the realm prayed for a son, but deep inside Rhaenyra yearned for a girl. A daughter to love and cherish and protect her from all that she herself had suffered.

-You are absolutely doted on my your mother. She makes sure you have the best of everything. She loves to order sweets brought from all over and give them to you in elaborately decorated boxes. She has you all decked out in red and black clothing. Rhaenyra likes to do your hair and make elaborate hairdos. Whether for a special occasion or any normal day she takes great pleasure in showing off how pretty you are!

Y/n squealed in delight as Rhaenyra pulled out a box. Knowing that it held some kind of delight behind its wooden covering you wasted no time in hastily opening it. Tiny hands seized the sugar covered fruits from Dorne. The mother giggled as with great enthusiasm Y/n chomped away at them. "Remember to share them with your brothers!" Rhaenyra called out to her daughters. "Gods I love her." Rhaenyra thought.

-Because of the political situation you are heavily guarded. Your friends/ladies in waiting are carefully picked amongst Rhaenyra's closest allies. From the time you are old enough to walk she hires a personal guard to follow wherever you go. This is especially true if Otto, Alicent or Criston Cole are near. Unlike with her sons I don't see Rhaenyra letting you near your uncles. Partly because it would be seen as inappropriate but also for safety sakes.

-Princess Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, eldest child of Viserys and heir to the throne, ran in great haste down the hall. She payed no heed to the sudden stairs of people. Most of the time she would care, but not now. Not when she noticed her brother Aemond speaking with her baby girl under the Weirwood tree. She did not know his intentions and frankly, did not care. None of Otto Hightowers grandchildren would be in any position to harm her daughter. "Y/n." Rhaenyra hurried down the path to see two children quite peacefully reading a book. Aemond was the first to look up and scowled. Rhaenyra didn't like it. Even something as innocent as this could insight trouble. Gods know Otto might even consider marrying the two if he could get away with it. A perfect way to tether the Princess of Westeros to himself forever. She would never let that happen.

-Obviously you will have a dragon from day one, if there isn't an egg already placed in the cradle. She will likely want you to have a new one rather than an older one. This is mainly because she worries an older one might be too aggressive and large for tiny you to manage. Of course she will take you for flight on Syrax, high in the sky. She uses these times to bond, even going on short daytrips for fun.

If she gives you an egg:

Rhaenyra cradles the large opaque egg in her hands. It was a good size, this dragon would be healthy. It was placed right beside the infant who was roused to the waking world. Her large e/c eyes focused on the egg with such intensity that Rhaenyra could hardly believe it. Her fingers brushed against the thin hairs that had just started to sprout up. Her little Targaryen.

If you claim your own dragon:

She would have preferred Dreamfyre. That dragon was so gentle and lovely, a perfect fir for her gentle daughter. Not fucking Tessarion. Anxiously Rhaenyra waited as Y/n advanced forward. The dragon keepers were on standby. But if Tessarion became volatile then......... The great dragon moved its head. The Valyrian coming out of Y/n's trembling mouth would barely be heard over the beasts rumbling. Horrified, Rhaenyra moved to intercede. But suddenly the dragon lowered its head and Y/n's hand placed itself on its snout. "Look mom! I'm a dragonrider!"

Riding a dragon with her daughter:

At five years old Y/n mounted a dragon for the first of many times. Rhaenyra had been hesitant. Normally Targaryen's took their children on a flight during babyhood. But in her anxiety Rhaenyra waited until her daughter was slightly older. She had a small harness made for the baby and herself. Part of Rhaenyra didn't want to stay on the ground, but Y/n was a Targaryen, a Valyrian ancestry going back thousands of years. The dragons wings expanded and in a great bounding leap Syrax was in the air. Y/n's small form was shaking and Rhaenyra wrapped an arm around her. They stabilized once above the clouds. Y/n finally had calmed down. Soon, she was giggling and enjoying the height. Rhaenyra smiled.

-When it comes to betrothals Rhaenyra will wait until you are grown before any of that comes to fruition. Like her father she will let you chose. That is, up until the events of episode 7 where Vaemond makes his bid for Driftmark. Even though she will not be aggressive about it, your attention will be directed to Cregan Stark. Of course you will get the talk, and what to expect during pregnancy/childbirth. Your also likely to get a new wardrobe. This is even more expected if where your moving to (think Winterfell and Dorne) has a drastic change in weather compared to Kingslanding/Driftmark. If you do end up married then she will make frequent visits to where you live.

Everyone bellow was mingling during the Red Keeps most recent party. Everyone except for Rhaenyra and Y/n. Mother and daughter observed the happenings bellow, talking in low voices. "Have you met anyone who appeals from you?" Rhaenyra closely watched her daughters expression. Y/n's eyes skimmed the handful of eligible bachelors that a Princess of the realm could take. "Hmmmm. Uncle Aemond is looking rather appealing these days." Y/n jested. Rhaenyra snorted. None of Otto's grandchildren would ever taken her daughter to wife. Only last week Alicent had requested a possible betrothal between their two children. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, that would only happen over her dead body. "Who is that?" Rhaenyra's eyes lit up. Now this was a much better match. "That is Cregan Stark."

Extra

What is your fathers relationship with you (excluding non cannon father)

Harwin Strong:

Like with his sons he is very close with you. Your his only daughter and so he is very protective. He will hold you as a baby and try to be there for everything. First words, steps and your progression into adulthood. He likes to carry you on his back during his time off. Even though you are a girl you will likely be taught to fight if you so chose. Although that will be in secret. I think that as the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin you will feel like you all are a great big family.

Leanor Velarion:

Your his only biological child. Because of this the family dynamic will change, with Laenor being far more involved with his family.1* Rhaenyra and Rhaenys will push hard for him to be a good father, the best he can be. Its a rocky start. But he gets better and does his best. Your time together is usually one on one with Laenor. Stuff like taking you on dragonrides and going to Driftmark.

Criston Cole:

This one is a doozy because he can't be sure until you are older that your his (given that Rhaenyra's likely got involved with Harwin shortly after marriage). But once he finds out....wow. Because as much as he loathes Rhaenyra he can't bring himself to hate the daughter. He will, very subtly, try to ingratiate himself to you. This will be sneaky and behind Rhaenyra's back. Of course Alicent will get wind of this making Otto aware. He will absolutely try to use this to his advantage. This of course puts Criston in a very difficult position.

Daemon Targaryen:

This pregnancy takes place shortly before the marriage to Laenor, meaning Rhaenyra was pregnant although very early on. I have a feeling Daemon might not even know the baby is his, thinking it is Harwin Strong's. So he as nothing to do with you until the funeral of his second wife. It was there that Rhaenyra reveals he has another daughter. The reason he was not informed earlier is because she was worried someone might get ahold of the note and Daemon was in Pentos all this time. This revelation will be surprised. When your parents marry he will take an interest in your education. You are expected to be an example of pure Valyrian, perfecting Valyrian and being a dragon writer. The two of you will sometimes read together and he likes to tell stories of his adventures.

Note: I'm gonna make one for Alicent and maybe Aemond. If you guys want me to make any more of these then please feel free to requested☺

[wordbunch]

healer's healer [Elrond x reader]

a/n: WELL! look at that. the people want ROP Elrond and of course I give them Elrond ♡ it's short but bear with me - I haven't done creative writing in ages and I feel very rusty, but he deserves good things. 🥹

I didn't watch the S2 trailer bc I never do that, but I did see screenshots of baby El after some battle 😭😭😭 so this vaguely goes off of that. Enjoy! 💞

Your breath hitched in your throat as you hurried down the spiraling staircase from your chambers, having noticed a familiar (and beloved) figure on the horizon. Though he was approaching uncharacteristically slowly, without mistake it was your spouse in the distance, returning from his latest task along with his companions. As fast as your legs carried you, you ran out to meet them - well, Elrond - and your heart clenched at his disheveled and evidently injured state. Immediately you scurried to the horse he was on, all drawn into himself and with scars etched into his handsome face.

“Meleth nín,” you breathed out, helping him down as gently as you could muster. Elrond clung onto you as soon as you came in contact, as he held one arm protectively over his middle.

“Beloved,” he replied, fatigue dripping from his words. “I have returned to you… as promised.” His attempt at a soft smile turned into a painful grimace as you slowly walked to somewhere he could at least sit down comfortably. You helped lower him onto the nearest settee you could find and began anxiously examining his wounded form.

“I knew you would keep your promise, always,” you whispered to him, cradling his face in your hands with a feathery touch. The way he was looking at you was shaking you to the bone - in his storm-colored eyes you could see an echo of many a thing he had seen, found, and been through, and you could all but hear your heart crack. “Breathe,” you attempted to soothe him. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” he winced, meeting your eyes once again, shakily reaching for your hand laid across his scarred cheek. It was easy to notice his breaths were heavy and uneven. “I love you,” he added hastily, stopping your thoughts in their tracks, as if he was afraid he wouldn’t get many more chances to lavish you in his feelings. “I-I did not know whether… whether I would have another opportunity t-to… tell you that… one more time.”

“My brightest star,” you breathed out, leaning your forehead against his and reveling in his presence after the agonizing weeks of uncertainty. Elrond soaked in your warmth and softly nudged his nose against yours. “We will not speak of such things, ever. You are home now, you are safe, and I am here.  We are going to get you healed, I promise. Neither of us is going anywhere, ever” 

“Until the whole Middle-earth is no more than a distant memory,” he quietly echoed the vows you had exchanged quite a few moons ago. You were hoping you could actually sense, and not that you were just deceiving yourself, that he was beginning to feel more at ease (if not less in pain) only through being in your arms once again.

“Meleth nín,” you inched back only slightly to look at his state, “do you think you could be strong enough to get up with me and walk to our chambers? I will hold you the whole time,” you squeezed his chilly hands in encouragement, eliciting a subtle nod from your spouse. “Then we will make you comfortable, warm, and I will do everything in my power to heal you. From the things you are able to tell me, just as much as from the things you cannot speak of yet.”

Immediately his arm was around your shoulders as he reluctantly rose to his feet. You heard him breathe through his teeth, but you knew he could do it. He was as strong as he was kind, and you were more than willing to bring back his joyous laugh and twinkling eyes.

“How strong have you gotten in these weeks, my dove,” he quipped, doing his best to lighten the somber atmosphere. “I have got a true elven warrior by my side.”

“I have only tried to match you, I admit.”

♡

I should try to somehow revamp my taglist too :/

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Never Again

Beau Arlen & daughter!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: Beau never wanted his life as a cop to affect your safety, but he doesn’t always get what he wants.

“That wasn’t the agreement, Beau, it was—“

“I know what the ‘agreement’ was, if you could call it that, but things have changed!” Beau didn’t often get too heated with his ex wife—he let her do the belittling and he didn’t say much against it. But this was different. This was about you.

“Seriously? What, you get a little overprotective and we just throw out what we agreed on?”

Beau ground his teeth, trying to calm down.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying that she’d be safer at my place until all of this blows over.”

“Safer? What, with you out all day and—“

“Don’t pretend you’re home anymore than I am,” Beau cut in. “And if need be, she can come to the office with me.”

Silence filled the phone for several agonizing seconds.

“This is really serious, isn’t it?” She said finally.

“I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t.”

“And you’re not going to back down?”

“You know I won’t. Not when it comes to her safety.”

“Fine then. She can stay with you, but just until this all goes away.”

Beau sighed. He hated how against his ex was with him having custody, and he knew that soon enough there would probably need to be some sort of custody battle if he wanted more time with you, which he did. But for now, he’d settle with having you safe at his place for a few days.

“Thank you. I’ll pick her up from school this afternoon.”

“Fine.”

Beau was almost surprised that his ex hung up without a crack about you being disappointed when he showed up instead of her. There’d been plenty of those lately. Although Beau supposed she was getting tired of it, especially since they both knew it wasn’t true; you’d always been your dad’s daughter.

…

Beau arrived at your school at exactly three, eager to get you to his place quickly. He waited in his car, looking around for your familiar green backpack. Five minutes went by. Then ten.

It was nearing four o’clock when Beau finally decided to head inside. At first he’d just figured that you were held up by friends, but this was too long.

Beau made his way through the halls, scanning for you through the hoards of teenagers loitering near lockers as he went. He didn’t see you the whole way to the office, and when he went inside he inquired with the first person he saw—a young woman seated behind a computer.

“Y/N Arlen…” she repeated in a mumble, her brow drawn in concentration as she typed on her desktop. “Yes, here it is. Her uncle brought in a note to get her out of classes early. She left during lunch, about four hours ago.”

Beau’s heart sank to his toes, and in its absence his chest constricted. All the breath left his body as though he’d been thrown to the floor, and for a long, agonizing moment he forgot how to breathe.

“Sir?”

The voice of the woman snapped him back to attention.

“You just let some random man take my daughter?”

She looked taken aback.

“He—he had an ID, and his note had your signature on it. That is, if you’re the father—Beau Arlen?” The woman produced the note from her desk, and Beau snatched it up. It was his signature alright—and the forger was an expert. Beau knew deep down that he couldn’t blame the woman in front of him, but he couldn’t quite get that message to his panicked adrenaline.

“And you didn’t think to call me?” Before she could respond, Beau continued. “What did he look like? Where did they go?”

“I-uhh…” the woman faltered for a second before regaining composure. “We have security footage in the building as well as parts of the parking lot. We’ll be able to see him, if maybe not his vehicle.”

“Show me.”

The woman faltered again.

“We’re not really supposed to—“

A quick flash of his badge shut her up.

…

You woke up to the ground rattling beneath you. You tried to push yourself up, but your hands wouldn’t move right. There was a coarse…something, inhibiting your movement. You blinked your eyes open slowly, groaning at the pounding in your head.

You struggled to recall where you were or what was going on. Last you remember, you were at school…

You were called into the office…

You hadn’t been feeling very good this morning, so when the woman in the office told you you were being picked up, you didn’t stick around to hear the rest. You’d gone straight to the parking long, expecting to see either your mom, dad, or Avery; your mom’s new husband. Secretly, you were hoping for your dad.

Instead, a black SUV swerved in front of you. Before you could berate the driver for almost running you over, the side door swung open, and a man with dark hair and psycho-wide eyes grabbed you around the middle and dragged you inside. A foul-smelling cloth was pressed to your nose, and despite struggling for a couple of minutes, the chloroform took over and you were knocked out.

…

Beau got lucky—the security cameras had a good shot of both the kidnapper and his car.

He recognized the man immediately—the leader of a local cartel that Beau had been working for months to put away. It was pretty much the worst case scenario.

Halfway through watching the footage, Beau called up the department.

“Sheriff’s Department, how can I help you?”

“Poppernick, I need you to pull up traffic cameras of every road leading out of the county from the last four hours.

“Beau? What’s going—“

“Now! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

…

Once realization set in, so did panic. You’d been kidnapped, straight out of school! Not to mention the kidnapper hadn’t bothered to put on a mask. That took a pretty gutsy criminal.

The motive wasn’t hard to figure out—with a cop for a dad and a lawyer for a mom, your family was pretty well acquainted with criminals. Besides, last time you’d visited your dad, he’d acted…off. He’d even hinted at you coming to stay with him for a bit. He must’ve been worried about a criminal case.

But the motive wasn’t your big problem.

“Hey, she’s awake.” A gruff voice invaded your ears as you felt yourself being twisted into sitting up. “Wakey wakey,” the voice taunted, his rough hand slapping your face, making your eyes snap open. “There we go.”

It was the man who’d dragged you into the car. He had short dark hair and a twisted smirk that accentuated the scar running from under his eye to his chin.

You glanced around the interior of the car to see just one other person—the driver. Apparently he was more skittish, because he was sporting a ski mask.

You opened your mouth to speak, only to discover that a thick cloth was stuffed in your mouth, and no sound escaped.

Scar Man’s grin twisted wider at your struggles.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he threatened before lowering the gag.

“What do you want?” You demanded after taking in a gulp of air.

“What’d you take the gag off for?” Ski Mask asked after hearing your voice.

“Gotta make sure her dad gets a good look at his little brat.” The kidnapper chuckled. “You think she looks banged up enough?”

The driver spared a glance back before shrugging.

“You could rough her up a bit. But don’t go nuts, we gotta give her old man a chance to do what we say before we really mess her up.”

…

Beau was halfway to the department when it hit him. He would have to call his ex.

“Not until I’ve got more to go on,” he muttered to himself. He knew that wasn’t the real reason; he couldn’t bare to call the mother of his child and tell her that he had let you be taken. He couldn’t admit that to anyone, much less to the woman that broke his heart. It would make it too real.

…

Your body felt like a pulsing mass of pain. If Scar Man had taken it easy on you, you didn’t want to know what him taking it seriously was. Every square inch of you felt bruised, but you noticed that he took particular care to mark up your face and arms—the most visible places. You were now tied to a hard metal chair, the ropes around your wrists far too tight. Moving your arms even slightly sent pain shooting up your wrists from where the rope rubbed your skin raw.

“That should just about do it,” the dark haired man said with a grin. “Now for the finishing touch…”

You tried to move away from him when he pulled out a large knife, but it was futile. You whimpered as he dragged a long cut across your cheek, and you vaguely registered that it seemed to match his own.

“Perfect,” he said with a chuckle. “Now to show it off to dear old dad.”

…

“I’ve got the footage, what am I looking for?” Poppernick wasted no time when Beau entered the department, which he appreciated.

“Black SUV, Honda civic. License plate 23J OV3.”

During the silence while Poppernick went to work, Beau felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. He pulled it out reluctantly, assuming it was his ex wife checking to see if he’d picked you up.

Once he saw the image, he wished it had been her.

Beau staggered back, his feet no longer able to hold him up. Thankfully, the back of his knees collided with a chair, and he fell back into it.

“Sheriff?” Poppernick looked away from his computer, and jumped to his feet when he saw the paper-white tone and utter terror in his boss’s face. “Beau!”

Beau’s hand went limp, and Poppernick grabbed the phone before it could fall to the ground. He took one look at the image and his face turned a slightly greenish tint.

“Oh gosh.”

“What’s going on?” Jenny Hoyt asked immediately after stepping inside, noticing the palpable panic and disgust.

“They…” Poppernick couldn’t even speak, he just showed Jenny the photo. She swallowed, trying hard to keep her composure.

“Quentin, right?” She asked through gritted teeth, referring to the cartel leader that Beau had been after. The very name seemed to snap Beau back into focus. He sat up ramrod-straight in his chair and turned to Poppernick.

“Finish the trace. Now!”

Poppernick didn’t argue, and after a moment longer…

“I got something.”

…

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Scar Man taunted as he put the camera down. “Soon enough you’ll be back with your daddy, and I’ll have him off my back for good.”

You tried to ignore him, too busy trying to breathe through the pain. But his last statement caught your attention.

“You’re…you’re gonna let me go?”

A harsh grip on her chin had her wishing she hadn’t spoken, but the man just tilted her head up and grinned down at her.

“If our dear sheriff cooperates, and you’re incredibly lucky, then yes.” He dropped his hand and turned to leave without another word.

You wanted to believe him, to hope, but the crazed look in his eyes contrasted his words.

…

Hoyt, Beau, and Poppernick were gathered around Pop’s computer screen, tracking the black SUV, when Beau’s phone rang. He answered the unknown number immediately.

“Beau Arlen,” he said instinctively, then waited with bated breath for a response. While Pop had been working, Hoyt had set up a tap on Beau’s cell phone, and he was prepared to keep the kidnapper on the line as long as possible to get the trace.

“Nice to finally speak to you, Sheriff,” said a voice that chilled Beau Arlen to his core. “I’ve got a sweet little thing that belongs to you who would just love to see you again.”

Beau but back a thousand threats that wanted to escape his lips, and instead went for a smarter question.

“What do you want?”

“Nice and direct, I like that.”

Beau inwardly cursed himself for not stalling—maybe he should’ve went with a threat—but he also didn’t want to make the kidnapper angry.

“What I want—“ the kidnapper continued, “is for you to back off the investigation long enough for me to disappear. It’s reasonable—more reasonable than you should expect in your position. My cartel is out of your little town, your kid gets home safe, and I get my freedom.”

“Yeah, to go terrorize someone else’s town,” Beau spit out.

“Well they’re not you’re concern, sheriff. This is.”

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, and then—

“Dad?”

Beau’s heart lodged in his throat.

“Baby?”

“Dad, don’t—“

“And there’s your proof of life.” Your voice was cut off, replaced by the kidnapper. “Now do we have a deal?”

“I don’t negotiate with kidnappers.”

A chilling laugh echoed across the line. “Well then I hope you got a good last look at your daughter.”

…

“Dad, don’t—“ Ski Mask covered your mouth as Scar Man pulled back the phone to continue talking. Once you stilled, he let you go. Your gaze never left the phone in the dark haired man’s hand, desperate to hear your father’s voice.

You needed him more than you ever had, and you knew even just a few words from his voice would help calm you. You’d been trying hard not to panic, but knowing that your father was just barely out of your reach had tears pricking your eyes and despair stealing your breath.

You don’t know what your father said to the man, but his eyes were suddenly on you as a terrifying laugh shook his frame.

“Well then I hope you got a good last look at your daughter.”

A knife was suddenly in his hands, and you didn’t know where it had come from.

“No, please,” you whimpered as he advanced on you, lifting the knife above you.

…

“Wait, wait!” Beau demanded as he heard your panicked pleas on the other end.

“Yes?” The kidnapper said.

“I want to talk to her.”

“Don’t stall, sheriff. I know you’re trying to trace the line. I need a yes or a no, and I need it now unless you want me to start carving into this little girl.”

“I…” Beau glanced helplessly at his people, who were waiting for his response. “Ok. It’s a deal.”

“Good. You’ll get the address to where she’s being held as soon as I’m out of the country.”

The line went dead.

“You’re not really gonna let them go, are you,” Hoyt asked.

“Pop, what do you got?” Beau ignored Jenny’s question and focused on Pop’s computer.

“Nothing on the trace, there wasn’t enough time. But I’m still following the route that the SUV took, so far it’s still in sight of traffic cams.”

“So you were just stalling for time?” Jenny tried to clarify.

“We can’t let them go,” Beau said.

“Are you sure?” Jenny said hesitantly. “We don’t want to put Y/N in—“

“You don’t get it.” Beau shook his head. “This guy’s MO, his track record…he’s lying. He’s not gonna let her live. We need to find them.”

…

The kidnappers ignored you for a while after the phone call, busying themselves with packing the meager belongings they had into the back of a truck.

“What about her?” Ski Mask asked, nodding his head at you. “We gonna leave her here for her dad?”

“Let her live?” Scar Man chuckled. “What’s the fun in that?”

…

“I’ve got it!”

Beau jumped out of his seat at Pop’s outburst.

“Where are they?” He demanded, leaning over Pop’s chair to look at his screen.

“Well, I don’t have an exact location, but they turned down this road.” Pop ran his finger along the map open on one side of his screen, while the other side showed the black SUV turning down a dirt road. “And that’s where the cameras stop, they don’t go down side roads.”

“What’s over there?”

“Not much.” Pop shrugged. “A couple of warehouses.”

“Perfect, let’s go. Hoyt, you’re with me.”

…

Knowing that someone plans to kill you is an odd thing. You watch every move they make, no matter how innocent, waiting to see if he’s going to strike. Is he reaching for a knife, or his phone? Is he grabbing his bag, or the gun next to it? You never knew which breath would be your last, which thought would be the last one you’d ever think.

You wondered if your dad would ever find you. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to or not. Seeing your body would kill him, but never getting closure could, too.

You shook the thought away. You definitely didn’t want that to be your last. You’d never thought about it before; what you wanted to be thinking about when you died.

“I think that’s it.”

You were snapped out of your reverie when Ski Mask spoke.

“Great. Now for the fun part.” Scar Man picked up a curved knife from a metal table as he spoke.

You started to struggle against your ropes despite the pain of your raw, bleeding wrists.

“No.” You began to cry as though you were already dead, and you were mourning yourself. “Please, please don’t do this.” Perhaps you were crying because you knew it was futile; there was no sympathy or mercy in this man, you could see it in his eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to continue to beg, too afraid to even speak.

You’d never thought about what you wanted your last thought to be. Even so, the memory came to you instantly; the perfect one.

You were little, maybe six or seven. Your parents were together and in love, and your father hadn’t been broken by grief. The three of you were painting your room, because you’d finally chosen a favorite color to paint over the white that had been there since you were a baby.

You tried to help, but your parents just ended up painting over the mess you made. Your mom was working on painting one wall, while your dad was making his own version of an enchanted forest on another. He’d already done several mushrooms, and now he was working on a fairy.

“What is that, a flying toad?” Your mom asked with a laugh.

“It’s the fairy princess!” Beau said, staring at her open-mouthed in mock offense.

“It looks like a toad.”

You giggled at your mother’s words, and Beau snatched you into his arms.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” You squealed and squirmed in his arms as he started to tickle you. “You think it’s funny?”

“Stohop!” You giggled, and after a moment Beau stopped, but he kept you in his arms.

“What do you think, huh?”

“I like the fairy princess,” you insisted.

“See?” Beau grinned.

“That doesn’t count,” your mother countered. “She likes you better.”

“And she understands a masterpiece when she sees it,” Beau said. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?

“Y/N?

“Y/N!”

Your daydream vanished as the very voice you’d been thinking about echoed across the warehouse.

“Dad!” You were still crying, now from relief. Your father was running across the room, gun in hand.

“Get away from her!” Beau aimed the gun at Scar Man, who had the knife clutched in his fist. “Drop the knife!”

Scar Man, psycho eyes wide and enraged, lunged for you, the knife raised.

Two shots rang out, and Scar Man staggered back before slumping to the ground.

Ski Mask lifted his hands in surrender, and Hoyt went over to arrest him.

Beau wasted no time in putting his gun away and running to you.

“Dad.”

“I’ve got you.” Beau offered you a strained smile as he got to work on the ropes binding you. You didn’t realize how much you were leaning against the restraints until they were gone, and you all but fell out of your chair.

Beau held you up, letting you fall against him and bury your face against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he repeated again and again. “You’re safe, I’m here.”

You clung to him despite the way his jacket scratched at the raw part of your wrists. Your body shook with sobs, and Beau held you tightly, rubbing your back and letting you cry against him.

“Hey,” his grip slackened as he pulled back enough to look at you. His hands framed your face, and the cool texture of his hands eased the pain of your bruises. His thumb brushed feather-light against the cut on your cheek, so gentle that you didn’t even flinch. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

Beau kept a hand on you the whole way to the car, unwilling to let you go for even a second.

“Can we go home?” You asked, clinging to your dad’s arm.

“We’ve gotta go to the hospital first,” Beau sighed.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “I wanna go home.”

Beau stared at you for a long moment. Proper procedure told him to take you to the hospital, then the station for some questions.

But his fatherly instincts were telling him to take his baby girl home and do whatever she needed to feel safe.

The latter won out.

…

By the time Beau reached his place, his phone had been blowing up with texts and calls, probably from Hoyt and Pop, but he ignored them other than a quick text to both telling them he was ok and headed home.

The texts continued after that, but Beau turned his phone off.

“Do you want to go to your mom?” He asked gently, not quite sure what you’d meant by “home”.

You didn’t hesitate.

“No. Your place.”

He got you to his trailer in record time, and he led you inside and to the couch. Your eyes never left him as he went to get your favorite blanket and drape it around your shoulders.

“I’m gonna get you some ice for those bruises, ok?” Beau didn’t give you a chance to respond as he went to get the ice. He returned a moment later, and you put the ice pack up against one of the worse bruises on your face. “Do you want me to make you some food?” He asked.

You shook your head, reaching your free hand out to him without speaking.

Beau got the message. He sat down next to you on the couch and wrapped you into his arms, the soft fluff of the blanket around you brushing against his arms, and your hair tickling his chin as he tucked your head under it.

“I’ve got you,” he promised. “No one’s ever gonna hurt you again.”

“Don’t go,” you pleaded.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” Beau lifted a hand to the back of your head. He found himself rocking you back and forth slowly, and the ghost of a smile lifted his lips when he heard your gentle, relaxed breathing for the first time since you’d been taken.

Time stopped when he was like this, with you. He might’ve been holding you for five minutes or five hours, it didn’t matter to him. He was pretty sure you fell asleep at some point, but he didn’t move, determined to never let you go again.

[cat-and-fox-hub]

[Yōkai AU] Fiend & Menace

Made by Cat, aka Researcher Serif/AW

"I know I'm quite the catch but for you to look at me like that, you trying to tell me something, Master~? You don't need to look from so far, you're free see my true self as close and as often as you please~. Just know you aren't escaping me that easily~."

(The Kitsune no Mado, or "Fox Window", is a Japanese hand technique believed to reveal hidden Yōkai through your fingers as with above.

It's comparable to the Celtic hag-stone or adder stone, a stone found in riverbeds with a naturally formed hole which can reveal witches or faeries through it.)

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Sometimes, I really hate colors. I spent so long agonizing his color palette it ain't funny, I swear. At least I think I did better on colors this time. Not by much but decent enough... (lighting's hard)

Either wae, here's @cosmica-galaxy's Fiend and Menace! They're apart of my Yōkai AU, very much based/inspired on @twstedforyou's own original Yōkai Twisted Wonderland AU.

Below is some lore if you wanna know! I recommend reading up this post for further AU lore if you wish.

Do hope you enjoy either wae!

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For those who don't know what Yōkai are, "Yōkai are a class of supernatural entities and spirits in Japanese folklore."

They can range from your classic demon, in this case Oni, to objects gained spirit and sentience such as Kasa-Obake, a friendly and playful one eyed, one legged sentient umbrella.

So now that that's outta the way...

[Yōkai AU Lore]:

꧁ღ⊱ | Oni!Fiend |

Fiend is an Oni, a kind of yōkai, demon, orc, ogre, or troll in Japanese folklore. They're known to be big, terrifying and having great strength. They're also known for their violent and short temperaments with a hunger for humans and alcohol.

In this AU, since people are pretty much wiped out, skibidi's are the suitable replacement. While not as fun as human prey at times, there's something a bit more satisfying playing with them. (The answer is abundance and the fact no one cares about them. He can be as sadistic and cruel as long as he wants with his food, something he couldn't with humans to avoid getting caught with his pants down so to speak.)

Fiend is a young Oni, reflecting his canon self being a Gen 0 mimic born after the fall of humanity, but he's still quite older than a century at least.

Due to his experience and the fact that the Yōkai District is quite traditional, he's a bit different. A tad wiser and more eloquent in his words for one. Not that he chooses to be, preferring to be a bastard most times. He's still the tsundere little shit who gets turned on when you make the battlefield red with the blood of your enemies.

Due to his heritage, he's quite the alcoholic. Because of that, he's also quite a bit more aggressive with skibidis because there's just some types of alcohol exclusive to the human realm that isn't made or sold in his District.

In this AU, Yōkai can shift forms to disguise themselves as the most dominant species in the human realm via shapeshifting or illusions. For some more humanoid Yōkai like Yuuki-Onna, it shows in their true forms. The believability of a Yōkai's disguise vary between Yōkai and those with skills more inclined to disguise like Tanuki and Kitsune are better at it than most. Fiend has an unusual competence in the art for Oni, Yōkai known to be quite dog shit at their disguises, especially for one as young as him.

With his surprising competence in illusions and Menace being too young to create his own disguise, Fiend extends his own over Menace until he can learn for himself. It also means when his transformation goes, so does the tuggle's.

Before the War, Yōkai had the option of either human or mimic guises but considering mimics themselves mimicked humans, it was mostly human disguises. Now though, the option is either Alliance members or mimics who mimicked them. Fiend in particular chose the mimic option because it gave him more freedoms so to speak. Disguising himself as an Alliance member would've burden him with the role of acting like one which, as apart of a military operation, is a heavy one to play.

Fiend spent most of his time in the human realm. When the fall of humanity came, he was mostly wandering and hunting alone and only rarely going back into his District when bored. Despite the solitude of the empty cities, not even he knew why he stayed in the wasteland as a TV mimic as he did. At least, not until he met you.

In this AU, his meeting with you was much like his canon self. He decided you were interesting at first and pretty much stalked you. Though, he was much more… open, so to say, with his less than mortal nature. He didn't necessarily show off he was of an Other nature but he didn't necessarily bother with blending in too much. Humans are pretty much dead and gone and he only kept a thin veneer up for the Alliance to not get up all over his ass after all.

Let's just say it was quite a surprise when he confronted you for the first time and found out you were his beloved Master all along. (He did not let go for the next week, still closely shadowing you for the rest of the month after. Your presence— no, your existence is simply too much— too intoxicating— for him to simply ignore and leave be.)

Bonus! He'd never admit it but sometimes, he'd head over to his District and find baubles for you that he makes seem like they're old belongings he'd never touched and left to dust. He's always terribly smug when you like it and gloats it over the others with a smirk.

꧁ღ⊱ | Oni!Menace |

Menace is also an Oni, a very young one

He's pretty much canon Menace but more of a little shit with a nasty temper when really angry

Though, instead of the whole 'parents dying leaving bby orphaned', its more he was orphaned at birth

Unless a hybrid of sorts, Oni are traditionally born from the death of a horrible human's spirit which is why Oni, at their base nature, are cruel and violent. By using the dead spirit of a horrible human to bring them into existence, they're bound to take bits of the violent and cruel parts that make up said spirit. Luckily for Fiend and you, it's something that could be taught to be managed but anger is always something present that'll have to be managed for the rest of his life.

Despite being essentially a toddler, he still has the absurd strength Oni are known to have. He can easily carry you with no problem which is a bit troubling considering he likes get mischievous. Often with Byte at that...

He's also a a bit of a nipper considering human flesh is apart of the natural diet of Oni. He knows better than to harm, Spirits forbid consider you prey and eat you. Adopted Papa Fiend is hovering over his back with a critical eye after all.

Bonus! Menace, underestimating his own strength and your human constitution, had accidentally thrown you once. Luckily, it was at Fiend. Unluckily, it was at Fiend. Possessive shit extraordinaire. (Yōkai won't let any slight against their Master stand, kid or not. Someone boutta get their little ass cooked.)

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Check out my main blog: @researcher-serif

Here's my NSFW blog if that tickles your fancy: @grandfather-of-sin

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[Read under cut for those that can't see the image text or colored text]

Fiend: "Hmm...?"

Fiend: "Oh..."

Fiend: "I see~"

Fiend: "Ahuhu~"

Fiend: "How flattering~"

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

marie

this week, marie was beaming because although her brother was no longer staying with her, he had been texting her, including that it was "so boring" jerking off by himself, and that he missed hearing her having sex with her husband every night. "you're such a good wife," he told her. "always doing your duty."

of course this kind of compliment was calculated to hit marie directly in the clit. annie suggested she send her brother some "material assistance" for jerking off.

"like what?"

annie pretended to be spitballing. "photos of your and your husband? of you... doing your duty?"

marie immediately reasoned that there was nothing wrong with this, as she'd be with her husband in the photos. it was clear to annie that marie had considered sending nudes already but hadn't been able to justify it.

marie left with a mission and came back the next week with details. she'd begun "taking photos in bed every night," much to her husband's delight. when he'd asked her why she was suddenly so into photography she told him she wanted to think about their evening fuck all day until the next one. she told annie, stage-whispering, that this was in fact true, and she'd been using the photos to masturbate every afternoon.

she'd started with blowjobs for the first few days -- which was "kind of amusing, taking selfies of myself with my husband in my mouth." then she'd moved on to photos of herself in her husband's lap, him "fully inside" which was her idea of modesty --not showing much shaft in photos of penetration-- but had already moved past that. she told annie that she'd agonized last night over which photo to send of herself riding her husband that he'd taken, as her asshole was "slightly visible" in several of the best shots.

annie asked how her brother had reacted. "he sends me videos of every ejaculation," marie said proudly. "and he makes requests."

"what does he request?"

"he likes to see my bush. he's always asking for a better view of it. and he asked me to once to have sex with my panties pulled aside."

"did you do that?"

"yes, but i found it uncomfortable. took them off after the photo. i really prefer to be nude. it was the first time i've ever had sex not nude."

"wait really?" annie said. "never had a quickie with most of your clothes on?"

"my husband has kept his clothes on, which i was quite aroused by," she said. "but no, i always get completely naked. even for a quickie."

annie admired marie's dedication. sometimes, she longed for that kind of ability. when she was in college, it hadn't been a problem. she'd also been so focused on her studies that she'd rarely fucked her long-term boyfriends anyway. twice a week at most. now it was hard to imagine going 12 hours without sex, and maybe that was why monogamy felt difficult to manage.

she was currently regularly fucking tom, sean, robbie, and jim. she'd been on a date with roger, but it hadn't led to anything. she was wondering when he'd get the nerve to ask her again. they still met for therapy, and he kept talking about how fun it was to go out with her. she wondered if on some level, roger was the kind of man who could sense all the other men who were covering her in their cum. like, in some animal sense, he knew there was no room for him.

early that fall, robbie and casey found an apartment together, and so robbie moved out. it was a pretty painless move -- he only owned clothes. in the week leading up to his move, annie and robbie had constant, wild, dirty sex. he fucked her in the ass almost every day. they were getting it out of their system.

"you fuck me so good," annie told him one evening, as he was pounding her. "what am i gonna do without you here to fuck me any time i want?"

"i guess you'll have to jerk off," he said. and then he pulled out and covered her bush with his cum.

"is casey as good as me? is she as wet and tight as me?" she asked him another evening as she slammed herself against him on her hands and knees.

"yes," he said, teasingly, slapping her ass.

"will you cum on my face?" she asked.

"of course," he said.

in the days after he moved out, robbie sent annie videos of himself and casey fucking on every flat surface in their apartment. a few days later, they got engaged. instead of a ring, casey got robbie's initials tattooed above her pussy. casey told annie proudly that she'd worn white cotton panties when she went to tell her dad, and pulled them down to show him, and he'd looked at her bald pussy and told her she was a good girl.

by october, casey was pregnant. annie was thrilled for them, and also wildly jealous. she told carlos that when casey told her, her immediately instinct was to strangle her to death. "i hope you said congratulations instead," he deadpanned.

[peoplesgraves]

What is love if not a ghost

Yandere vampire x ghost reader

It had started as a mutual hate. He had killed you and you were annoying. Even circumstances really. He excepted your soul to float away like all his victims did after they’d been devoid of life but instead you stayed. Floating above your body and staring down at him with big, empty eyes.

From then on that’s how it’d been every time he was home. The only solace he had from your anger was when he was hunting for new victims. You’d even ruined that for him though. Every time he drained some poor sap he worries he’ll make a new ghost and be further haunted.

“Haven’t I suffered enough?! I haven’t been able to sleep, I’ve been to scared to eat! Everywhere I go you follow me and you shriek and wail!” The vampire yells at you his frustration from over a month of your haunting was taking a toll.

His skin chills even further than usual as you a laugh a cruel and broken laugh. “dear vampire, you have no idea what true suffering is. You have no idea what it’s like to be slowly drained of your life. To be spit back out as this horrible thing.” You gesture to your new ethereal form and shiny tears collect in your eyes. “It hurts all the time just like the first time and still I’m stuck with you, with my killer.”

The vampire, Valian, finds himself feeling remorse. A bloodthirsty creature of the night feels sorry over a human. He rationalizes that this time is different and that he’s not weak to your tears. He’d never had to face the consequences of his actions before and it was only natural to feel something over it.

Things are different after that. You still cry and curse him but he no longer curses back and begs you to leave him. It seems the more he grows to care for you the more you disappear. You actually smile and cry happy tears as the vampire turns into a shell of his former self. He is both the torturer and the tortured.

“Don’t leave me. I need you” red eyes glow in the moon and his lips quiver with delirium.

You’re almost completely gone now, content at the nearing end, the end to all of your suffering.

Valian is crying. He’s on his knees begging god or anyone else who may listen to make you stay. What a pathetic sight watching a creature of night praying to the light, betraying everything he is. Soon though he turns to a much more befitting approach. Threatening whatever higher power there is that he will find you at any cost. That they gave you to him and they cant just take you back. Soon he’s on his knees for you, for his true god.

“Please forgive me. Let us walk the wretched planes of this earth for the rest of our existence, together.” He grabs your hand one of the only parts of you that wasn’t quite gone yet, but even that turns to nothing in his grasp.

Your final words echo inside his mind only further driving the knife into his heart. “I could never forgive you, now you’ll know what true suffering is.” You’re gone and your hated vampire let’s out an agonized scream. He sits where you had been and waits for day, when he’ll stand in the sun and find you, his beloved ghost.

[baronessvonglitter]

if love be rough with you, be rough with love | chapter 9 | "i want you to want me"

Dave York x f!Reader

Word count: 1,423

Summary: you and Dave have a real conversation about your expectations of each other as you rekindle your relationship. Smut ensues (duh)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, Dave shames Carol for having a life outside of the home (he just rationalizes everything, doesn't he?) but it's meant more as bait to get the reader back, oral sex (m receiving - in his fancy SUV of course, and in an alleyway of course), come swallowing, fingering, possible soft!Dave (?), pet names ("sweetpea", "good girl"), no use of y/n

Series Masterlist

You agonize over what to wear to meet Dave. You're already twenty minutes late by the time you go to the coffee shop. Let him think your lateness is you pulling some kind of power move to keep him waiting. He deserves it.

The cafe is quaint and warm and smells comfortingly of aromatic coffee and freshly baked bread. It's almost like something out of a romantic movie, except women who willingly enter into affairs with married men aren't typically the heroines, and quaint little bakeries are never the backdrop for illicit liaisons.

But when you spot Dave in a corner booth, his smile changes your mind. It's hard to ignore the once-over he gives you, his hungry leer an indication that what he said on the phone last night was true: he really did miss you.

A smile flits across your face as you approach him, not wanting to give too much away in the first few moments of your reunion. He has to come to you. He's made the first few steps in reaching out and setting up this clandestine meet-up. "Hey," you greet him, sliding into the seat across from him. "Good to see you again." He stands in a gentlemanly welcome, only sitting down when you do.

"It's great to see you," he replies, and there's more warmth in his face than you can recall ever seeing before. It's the same look he wears when he's with his family. "I'm glad you agreed to see me."

"You made it sound terribly important. Unless it was just a ruse to get me to come out here. I have a lot on my plate, as you know."

Dave looks chastened and you can't help feeling a little bad about your standoffish manner, but you need to keep the upper hand. "I think it's wonderful that you're going back to school. You're a woman with great potential, and you can do whatever you set your mind to."

You almost laugh. "Did you really ask me to come here to give me an inspirational speech? I sucked your dick while your wife was in the next room with her book club. I think we're way past formalities."

He has the nerve to smirk, and you glimpse a bit of the man you've come to know in your secret doings. "I want to talk about what happened, but mostly--"

"Are you going to buy me a coffee or not?" you interrupt, pulling out your compact to check your makeup.

It seems he likes this new you, and you watch as he goes to buy your drinks. You have a feeling you know what he's going to ask, and it's going to be quite an effort to deny him. You haven't even considered going back to how things were. Would you?

He returns with the drinks. "I've apologized."

"You have."

"I could have handled it better," he admits. "You haven't asked anything of me during our time together, and I appreciate that. The least I could have done was to handle the situation with more discretion."

"I was upset, but you were fair. We're already in a sticky situation and I wouldn't want to worsen things between us. You're my employer."

"Well, I've been thinking about it," he says, the tips of his fingers resting on the white paper of his coffee cup. For a brief moment you remember the feel of those fingers inside you, the way he muffled your moans with his hand or, sometimes, with his necktie. "I've never been with a virgin," he says quite plainly, as if he's saying he's never been to Australia, or he's never been skiing.

You take a moment to process this, because it feels like he's speaking another language and you have to take a moment to translate it. "Never? Really?"

He shakes his head. "Not even Carol was a virgin when we met. Not that it made any difference to me."

"You said you don't want me to develop feelings," you remind him.

He takes a long look at you, and for once you feel you hold up to his scrutiny. "I think it could be different with us. You've maintained discretion. You're a bright young woman, you know what you want. You're okay with the fun we've been having so far?"

You nod. "Of course."

"I'd like to continue," he says softly. "Would you?"

This is exactly what you'd asked yourself just moments earlier.

"Not the same as before," he says quickly, reading your hesitation.

"Meaning you want to fuck me," you say it for him.

He smiles, looking shy, but you know he's not. "Yes. I want to fuck you. I've wanted to fuck you since the day you came to interview for the position."

You give a sharp intake of breath. He knows just where to get you to make your walls come down, and all this time you thought you were in control. "I felt the same.."

He looks pleased with himself, yet flattered.

"What about Carol?" you ask. "You're okay betraying the mother of your children?"

Dave sighs, expecting this question to come up. "She's a great woman, and we do love each other. But you know how she's busy all the time, chasing her personal ambitions. If she stayed at home more we wouldn't need you," he points out. "Our marriage has become more for appearances now. Something I'm supposed to do. And when you've been together as long as we have, things get comfortable."

"What's wrong with comfortable?"

He shrugs. "Exciting beats comfortable any day."

Your heart beats like it has wings, and you feel that heartbeat somewhere else too. Dave makes sense, but everything he's saying is almost mean. Carol must have no idea what her husband's proclivities are, or she would not have invited a younger woman into their lives to essentially house. But really, all Carol's guilty of is being married to a man you desire.

"I could never ask for commitment from you, not really.. I'd never get it," you state plainly.

"True," Dave admits. Then in a sudden, very un-Dave-like fashion, he grabs your hands across the table. "I was almost catatonic when you were gone. I barely went to the office, and when I did I spent my time at my desk, my mind a million miles away. I struggled to sleep and often found myself dreaming of you."

"Dave!" you gasp, but you don't dare let go of his hands.

"It's my last-ditch effort to influence your decision," he confesses. "But it's the truth, all of it. I want you to be mine."

This is what you've been wanting to hear, not just moments of hot, whispered words because of your praise kink. You wanted, if not romance, affection. You can live with that.

"Okay," you say at last. "I'm yours.." You look into his deep brown eyes and you both smile. "So.. what happens now?"

His fingers are threaded through your hair as he thrusts into your mouth with enthusiasm. He'd stayed away from Carol, only fucking his hand when his needs were absolutely necessary, wishing it was you. In the front seat of his SUV in an alleyway, you're practically on all fours, deep-throating him, hungry for the taste of him after all this time. "Good girl," he mutters, palming your breast through your clothes. He pushes your panties to the side and strokes your clit, wanting you to come, loving the vibrating feel of your moans around his cock, the way your mouth tenses up when you're so close to the edge. "Here it comes. Be a good girl and swallow all of it," he pants, and you wonder how he can manage words when you're both in such a carnal frenzy.

He explodes in your mouth just as you come apart from his aggressive touch. As the pleasure ebbs over you, you artfully swallow every stream of cum, your hand pulling upward from his base, wanting every single drop he has to give. And when you're taking a moment just to come down from that high, you tell him, "I want you to fuck me."

His eyes darken with lust. "Now?"

You nod. "Backseat."

You can tell he's trying to keep it together, trying not to frighten you before he's had a chance to have you to himself. "For your first time you deserve better, sweetpea. I'm getting us a hotel and we're gonna fuck in high thread count sheets," he insists, and starts the car.

<- prev chapter

next chapter ->

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[inaflashimagine]

Did someone say a Nagumo fic? I would like to see it 🤲🏽

ask and you shall receive (pasting 2k below bc i'm unhinged)

–

You’re considering poisoning the vice principal of JCC.

It’s still in the planning phase, of course. But the true challenge, if this impossible task were to ever be achieved, would lie in the execution portion. Before leaving the airtight rooms of the laboratories, all students in the poisons department must properly discard any concoctions they’ve made in the fume hood (and any other chemicals that require extra care in their disposal are handled by the 24/7 toxic waste team). As many faculty in the department often repeat during their classes, the greatest poisons a student could ever make are arrogance and ignorance. For that reason alone, anything made for off-campus assignments is safely stored by lab managers in the school’s securely locked freezer until they must be given out.

Not to mention that every poisons professor also practices their due diligence by constantly updating the school chemicals inventory, which includes keeping track of the approved materials and poison recipes that students can take out of an extensive library of hazardous reagents, toxic substances, and highly coveted venoms.

That doesn’t mean that students haven’t tried to outsmart faculty or find a loophole in the system. Third-year Tanaka Kaito thought sneaking out with the tiny glass bottle containing his newest poison inside his mouth was a smart choice; and it might’ve been, if he hadn’t tripped over the lab assistant’s foot, which, coincidentally, happened to be in his way. Peers smarter than him have managed to avoid ruptured intestines or chemically burnt mouths, but considering these individuals–of which there are many–still fail and end up being expelled, stealing such precious items is not a risk many in your department are willing to take.

You understand the delicate position JCC is placed in when students break the institutional rules; since the JAA requires any poisons that are used by assassins or during non-educative assignments to be manufactured by those with a toxicology license, it makes sense that the JCC would adopt the most stringent guidelines to avoid a bad reputation.

Still. It doesn’t hurt to dream–or at least, you can’t get expelled for wishful thinking.

Besides, you have to find some way to pass the time in this dreadful class.

“Who are you thinking about killing this time?”

You blink, your eyes falling on the person who interrupted your delusions. The one who makes this class even more agonizing than should be tolerable.

“What makes you think I want to kill someone?” Flipping over the pages of your notebook to a blank one, you begin to scribble today’s course topic and can’t help but note the irony of you desperately wanting Ito-sensei to enter the room so he can start your least favorite class.

The Art of Espionage: For Intermediate Learners

From your periphery, you can see your dark-haired classmate leaning back into his desk chair as he deftly twirls a pocket knife in his hand, unfazed that all of his weight is balanced by one precious metal leg. He laughs lightly at your question, but it’s difficult to catch any mirth that follows it. “I always assumed only assassins carry bloodlust, but you proved me wrong. Though I guess I should’ve seen it coming.” His smile widens, a hint of smugness tugging the corner of his lips as he points the blade toward you like he’s just pointing a finger in your direction and not a potentially lethal weapon. “The ones in the poisons department do love holding grudges.”

You don’t know what others see in Nagumo. Sure, he’s objectively attractive–it would be stupid to argue that fact, and you’re not blind. And yeah, he’s one of the top second-year candidates in the intelligence-gathering department (though there are rumors of him wanting to transfer to the assassin program)–that’s not a surprise for someone who comes from a prominent family of spies, even if it is quite funny that the tidbit is well-known despite everything else about him being shrouded in the largest cloud of mystery…

…but any of those appealing characteristics seem to be thrown out the window the moment he begins to talk. And boy, does he talk.

“See, if I didn’t know any better,” he speaks up, yet again, eyes closed into half crescents as he cheerily jokes, “that annoyed look on your face says you wanna kill me!”

“Well, if you must know, you’re the third on the list. The first person is the vice principal for not switching me into another class.”

Each semester all JCC students must enroll in one class that falls outside the curriculum for their major. This is to ensure that their graduates are competent in all skills that they may need to succeed on the field or in the lab, even if it is unlikely they’d employ every skill on a daily basis. Since the best assassins, spies, weapons makers, and poison experts in the world are adept at rapidly adapting to different situations, it makes sense that the JCC would implement such a rule for their students. But that doesn’t mean you have to enjoy following said rules.

Your first semester at JCC wasn’t too bad. Technically, only third years can matriculate in poisoning classes–though there are a few introductory courses and practicums you can take starting your second year–so you’ve grown well accustomed to enrolling in classes that are beyond the usual chemistry and physics gambit. And since all students are allowed to rank their top choice electives, you were fortunate enough to get the History of Weapon Craft and Creation (considered one of the easier electives for those outside the weapons fabrication department). 

The semester after, you barely passed Firearm Handling & Defensive Training, but at least that class improved your aim with the laser guns in the cafeteria, meaning getting less of those horrid JCC bowls. Yet your luck quickly ran out at the start of the second year, as this semester you now find yourself to be the only poisons department student in a room filled with good-looking, downright intimidating, and incredibly sharp intelligence-gathering students.

You have no idea how you were even allowed to take a class with prerequisites that are nested in the intelligence-gathering department, but your grievances fell on the deaf ears of administrative staff who didn’t even apologize for the scheduling mishap. (Then again, these are the same people who don’t bat an eye when students in the assassin department are gravely injured and even die during an assignment or in the middle of class. It’s no shocker that the second-year class size has considerably dwindled from last year.)

With all other courses being full, your choice was to stick to this option or switch to Martial Arts & Tactical Hand-to-Hand Combat for Advanced Learners. Even if you can’t avoid your fear of looking like an idiot in front of Japan’s future spies, you can at least evade the terror of literally dying by the hands of the country’s strongest assassins-in-training (you heard Sakamoto Taro was a killing machine, a fact you would be happy to simply believe rather than test out for yourself).

However, your earlier fears have now evolved into a living nightmare after Ito-sensei announced that everyone would be assigned a partner to work on assignments together throughout the semester. You didn’t know who Nagumo was until your roommate Asami gasped at the mere mention of him (which isn't even his full legal name! What is he, Prince?). Banging your head against the wall might be a more pleasant experience than having to hear her complain–for the umpteenth time–that you get to learn from such a ‘genius’.

Admittedly, it's only been a few weeks into the semester, but you're still having trouble identifying the genius part.

“Wow, how scary! I’m terrified!” Nagumo sounds anything but after hearing your empty death threat. “Who’s the second?”

“None of your business.”

“Aw, don’t be like that! Do I know them?”

You think about it for a second, drawing the potential lines forming the network before shaking your head. “Well, actually, yes. Because congrats, you’ve just been bumped up to #2.”

He grins at that, big eyes crinkling. “See, now that’s a better response! But wait, am I third–”

“Second, now…”

“–right, second on the list because I forgot to do my part of the presentation? I swear I meant to get to it, but I got carried away with an outside mission.”

Genius? More like a lazy piece of shit, you think bitterly, eyes squinting at him to scrutinize what he’s hiding under those large dark eyes and that apparently innocuous grin. Of course, because you suck at intelligence-gathering, you come up with nothing other than a pathetic, “Stop lying, you sucky liar.”

The corners of his lips droop a bit further down than usual, but he still manages to adopt that customary smile of his and waits for another beat. Fully aware that the silence and staring make you uncomfortable.

“About the mission or getting the work done?”

“Both.”

“You’re funny!”

“See what I mean about the lying?”

The chair he’s sitting on instantly lands on all four, the harsh sound of pegs scratching the linoleum floors making you startle against your better judgment. One hand rests on his chin as he raises a brow at you, clearly amused. “But really, why would I lie about either part? If it makes you feel any better, I’ll make sure we get top marks on today’s presentation.”

You only have enough time to offer your exasperated sigh as an answer, since Ito-sensei finally walks in and announces the start of today’s presentations.

“Good afternoon everyone, apologies for my tardiness as a meeting went over. In preparation for your first exam next week, each group will be reviewing a different fundamental skill for carrying out espionage. First tactic: seduction.”

When you hear your name and Nagumo’s being called out, your suddenly heavy legs slowly drag their way to the front of the room, already anticipating to make a fool of yourself with your half-assed presentation on how to seduce a target, a skill all these students staring at you in boredom more than likely have performed a thousand times before.

Straightening your posture, you’re ready to begin your long unnecessary speech on the purpose of seduction until Nagumo yawns. Loudly.

The action has you momentarily pause, soft tittering spreading throughout the classroom until you narrow your eyes at your beaming partner, clear your throat, and continue.

“Seduction can be used as a weapon when the person employs the technique to obtain an objective, as seen in–"

“This demo we’re about to show!” Nagumo cuts in, waving his hands animatedly as if about to introduce a mesmerizing performing act. Your confusion only continues to grow as he sharply turns on his heel to face you, bewildered to see that his usual bright smile has been replaced with a more coquettish expression on his face.

“What are you–”

“The word seduction means to ‘lead astray’ in Latin. Doing such a thing means you have to observe your target’s every move. How they move. How they look at you. At others. At their surroundings.” Every step he takes forward means you take one step back. Until you find yourself hitting the wall, your eyes widening with how cold it feels against the back of your neck. “How they react. How they respond to you.”

He doesn’t even have you pinned, his arms laying idly by his sides while you dumbly acknowledge you can easily escape right now. But for some reason, you feel trapped under that curious gaze, the upward quirk of his lips sending a weird shiver up your spine.

“Catch the changes in their body language.” He tilts his head, and when strands of his shaggy black hair tickle your cheek you fully realize the distance–or lack thereof–between you two. “Are they fearful? Or are they open to receiving your advances? Do they approach you just as eagerly?”

Since when did he get so close?

You gulp when his hand dances over your hip while the other outstretched one reaches your face, and you hate how your head instinctively leans toward the motion. It becomes harder to stand your ground while your gaze flits back and forth between the inked numbers on his fingers and those half-lidded eyes, a darkness so rare with how inviting it seems.

As he delicately brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear you wonder if he can hear the frantic hammering of your heart against your chest. Even if he can’t catch it, you can tell by the slight way his eyes glisten that he certainly knows, and maybe even relishes, the effect he has on you–the way you’re futilely trying to snap out of the reverie you’re currently in, drunk in the smell of whatever woodsy fragrance he decided to wear today mixed with the sickly sweet scent of that caramel candy he was chewing on earlier.

Well, fuck.

“And it’s in that moment, when their mind is distracted and more focused on you than their own thoughts”–his nose brushes yours, and your breath hitches as all you can do is close your eyes–“is when you make your move.”

You feel your lungs deprived of air the second he presses you deeper into the wall, one hand still on your hip as he uses the other to swiftly grab a piece of paper tucked in the back pocket of your pants.

A sharp inhale is what returns you to reality, your jaw slackening upon seeing him retreat and wiggle the neatly folded piece of paper he stole from you.

“Nagumo,” you nearly growl as you feebly attempt to get it back from him, which only seems to get him more excited as his face breaks out into a full-blown grin and he waves the item higher with that freakishly long arm.

“Should I unfold it? Reveal to all the secret recipes?”

“Do it and you die!”

“Is that a joke or a threat?” As if he’s some film actor breaking the fourth wall, he turns his head toward your classmates and winks at them. “You can never tell with poisons students.”

The room erupts into laughter.

If only you did lace that paper with poison! You’re mentally preparing to fight (and definitely lose) to him when Ito-sensei’s booming voice keeps you two in check.

“That’s enough, I believe we extracted the main point of your presentation. Either return to your desks or report to the staff room after class for wasting more of our time.”

Both of you don’t need to be told twice–you practically sprint to your desk while an elated Nagumo hums a merry tune from behind, your mind still reeling from what just happened while the chaos in the room dies down and the next group begins their presentation on deception.

How the hell was Nagumo able to do all of that? A presentation you conducted research and rehearsed for around two hours was something he easily accomplished in less than five minutes. And with you as the guinea pig! The thought makes your cheeks burst into flames, but you refuse to hide your face for fear of appearing weaker.

“What did I tell you?” He tosses the paper into your lap–still folded into its original position–as he sends you one of those big smiles that used to give you the creeps but now seems to evoke some other inexplicable feeling. “Top marks!”

The urge to spit out “No thanks to you” is so strong that you have to bite your itching tongue, because that would be a fat lie. So you let out a spiteful ‘hmm’, twitching fingers creasing the folded paper even further.

“Wasn’t it fun teaming up?”

He’s still a bit too close for comfort when he whispers the question, so you lean forward into your desk, trying your best to ignore the buzzing coming from the pest.

“You and I have different definitions of fun.”

“And how would you define it?”

“Not being near you.”

“Guess I’m not the only sucky liar on this team!”

That earns him a glare as you plot several ways to wipe that pleased look off his face. You cross off a few bad ideas that you’re embarrassed your mind even conjured.

“The silent treatment, huh…Didn’t peg you to be the type who does that.”

The eye roll you offer him appears to be a sufficient answer as he lets out a small huff and pretends to listen to his classmates’ project, his bored yawn louder than whatever is being presented. You naively think you’ll be able to endure the remainder of the class without his yapping.

And then he turns to you once again, an impish spark in those large, curious eyes.

“But I just need to ask–what’s written on that piece of paper anyway?”

You press your lips firmly into a straight line and stare at him, bemused that he hasn’t figured it out. He matches your stare, looking at you expectantly. Maybe he’s pretending that he hasn’t read it–with how fast he is, you wouldn’t be surprised if he only needed one or two seconds to skim over the writing.

Then again, you’re the idiot for having a physical copy of your plan to cheat and steal from the school chemicals and rare toxins inventory.

“It’s my formula for a poison that I’ll use to kill you.” Like a psycho, you grin triumphantly upon seeing the way his mouth turns into a tiny shocked ‘O’.

And like the maniac he is, he’s quick to return your smile, though it doesn’t quite reach those indecipherable eyes. “Looking forward to it!”

You’re too proud to admit that you feel the same.

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] 6th Anniversary Event: “Love is on the way” – (Li Zeyan’s Prologue)

⌚ since global server won’t be getting this event anyway, I’m not going to add spoiler warning~ ⌚ ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

[notes from Anika before we begin]: after the last day of the anni event, i was crying so hard that it felt like a sin to not bring it over haha. however, i don’t exactly have much time to spare despite the off days from uni, so this might take a while but i’ll try to update regularly and phase by phase~ (*´▽`*)♡

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

【Event Common Prologue】 

The Loveland city hall and tourism bureau have arranged a “Love is on the way” event to celebrate the city being acknowledged as the best city for romantic experiences. 

MC wins an “RV Travel Gift Package” in the lottery event held by the city hall as a part of the program ~  

────────── 

【Event Extended Prologue – Li Zeyan】 

LZY: Why the frown when you’ve just hit the jackpot?

MC: You’re here just in time! Come and help me decide on a new travel plan.

As I agonize over the itinerary for the RV trip, I see Li Zeyan walking in and hurriedly wave at him to come over.

He takes the route map, gives it a brief glance, and then points to a path that starts from Tongyun Ancient town.

LZY: This one looks like it has the most potential for fun.

MC: My thoughts exactly, but the distance is quite far. It’d be quite a long drive…

LZY: This isn’t our first time going on a road trip like this.

LZY: Plus, the fuel coupons I won are enough to cover us for this entire long-distance trip.

At this unexpected answer, I can’t help but burst into laughter.

MC: Hahaha, what!? You know that’s clearly not what I’m worried about!

LZY: [laughs softly]  Dummy, I know.

Contemplating the potential challenges that’d arise in managing his time around, I gently shake his hand.

MC: Taking this route will also add a few extra days to the travel duration we initially planned. I have some vacation days, but will you be able to adjust your schedule?

LZY: Absolutely.

Hearing him respond without the slightest hesitation, I look up at him in elation.

LZY: Every year around this time, when have I ever not freed up my time?

─────

Lounging on the sofa, I cushion my head comfortably on Li Zeyan’s leg, my eyes glued to the short video playing on the phone––

The scene shows couples, family members, or friends lifting their right fists and solemnly pledging adorable vows like “to never be a wet blanket” before setting off on their travels.

Just picturing the scene of Li Zeyan raising his hand to take a vow for tomorrow’s trip involuntarily causes the corners of my lips to hook upwards.

LZY & MC: [simultaneously] During this trip––

Our simultaneously resounding voices catch me off guard for a moment, and then I lock eyes with him.

LZY: Found something fun again?

MC: A super awesome travel hack we’ve never tried before!

LZY: Seeing how you used such a long preamble, it doesn’t sound like something good.

MC: You’re being biased! Who knows, what you wanted to say might not even be as cool as my hack.

LZY: Very true. After all, I only did some pre-travel preparation, and that’s all.

With a subtle smile playing in his eyes, Li Zeyan hands me the tablet he is holding.

My eyes can’t help but widen in astonishment as I look at the minimalistic yet inclusive travel guide that covers everything from destinations to transportation routes and activity arrangements.

The itinerary includes almost every place I wish to check off, along with numerous delightful surprises.

MC: Where did you find this rice wine ice cream? It looks really yummy~

LZY: …you’re the one who found this.

In my bewildered gaze, he digs up our chat history from two days ago and opens a check-in post titled, “I’ll be heartbroken for anyone who hasn’t tried the rice wine ice cream, okay?”

MC: I have no recollection of it at all…

LZY: It’s normal to not have any recollection. Since you started planning, you’ve sent me 63 check-in posts in just two days.

MC: It’s because there are just too many fun things.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, I stick my tongue out at him, but soon, my eyes are drawn to the many empty time slots in the itinerary.

MC: CEO Li, are these time slots designated for spontaneous activities?

LZY: Yup, just in case a certain someone has spontaneous whimsy to add more activities halfway through the trip.

Looking at his perfectly strategized itinerary, I suddenly feel a little guilty about the “travel hack” I’ve just boasted about.

LZY: Tell me, what’s your travel hack?

Looking away from his eyes filled with interest, I try hard to compose myself. Then, I raise my chin with a false bravado.

MC: Your strategy is amazing, and it just so happens that my hack can make it even more perfect!

He noncommittally arches an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

MC: Recently, there’s a trending travel vow making waves on the internet…

LZY: …sure enough, it’s a childish game.

MC: No, it’s not! Only the people who are closest to each other can take this vow together!

Seeing my eager expression, he sighs in compromise.

LZY: How do we take the vow?

Not giving him a chance to regret it, I promptly raise my right hand to the side of my forehead and gesture for him to follow suit.

Li Zeyan remains silent for a moment, but eventually, he still closes his right hand into a fist and raises it awkwardly.

LZY: It’s silly.

MC: We’re being silly together~

My eyes crinkle into a smile, and I hand him the vow from my phone.

MC: I solemnly vow, during our anniversary trip, to never cry out because of being tired, to never stay cooped up all day lying in bed, to never get upset over taking ugly photos.

LZY: With mutual tolerance and accommodation, we will complete all the planned activities.

MC: Should anyone violate––

Realizing that his voice has suddenly ceased to be heard, I look to my side with confusion, only to find him staring at the vow with a crease between his brows.

LZY: “An irreconcilable conflict will be declared between the two parties”?

MC: The vow can be effective only when the punishment is severe enough~ Looks like a certain someone is scared now.

Brushing off my immensely complacent expression, he regards me with a contemplative look.

LZY: [he’s amused af LOL] Before proceeding, let’s clarify what “irreconcilable conflict” actually means for our situation.

LZY: Do you intend to return all of Huarui’s (LFG) investment?

MC: [confused] …Eh?

LZY: Also, which one of us will Pudding reside with?

MC: [even more confused] …Pudding?

LZY: And, moving forward, the entrance to Souvenir…

MC: W-W-W-WAIT!

I finally catch on and promptly extend my hand to cover his mouth in an attempt to prevent more dangerous and dreadful words from escaping.

MC: How can such icy words come out of your 37-degree Celsius mouth!

–

[T/N]: In case the joke escapes anyone, 37°C = 98.6°F, which is the normal body temperature – quite close to the boiling temperature and a far cry from the freezing point, so “technically,” he shouldn’t be able to say such “icy/ chilling” words 😂

–

LZY: [laughs softly]  Just wanted to confirm whether a certain someone who is beside herself with joy actually has any practical plans.

LZY: But I think someone else is feeling scared at the moment.

The slightly curved corners of his lips leave a tingling sensation in my palm, giving away a hint of teasing.

Realizing that he is deliberately messing with me, I can’t help but feel indignant.

MC: I’m not scared at all; increasing the challenge a bit more is perfectly fine with me.

LZY: As long as you don’t regret it.

Faced with his amused gaze, I clench my teeth and lay out the rules.

MC: How about counting by the number of times someone fails to keep their vows? Each violation results in a deduction of one point, and the person with the lower score shoulders all the consequences.

LZY: To avoid any attempts to dodge responsibility, let the other person have the authority for judgment.

MC: What if we end up with a tie?

LZY: What would you want to do?

MC: I most certainly don’t want to split up with you!

Upon hearing my immediate, unfiltered answer, he lets out a muffled chuckle.

LZY: In that case, after the game begins, make sure to uphold this attitude of yours.

────────── 

🚐 • First Location: To be updated

────────────────────────────────────── 

[crusherthedoctor]

It really is not just annoying, but also somewhat sad, that IDW characters can never have a meaty role without shamelessly upstaging a game character. It's the ultimate play of insecurity.

Tangle gets touted as the Sonic Female of All Time while the crewmembers drag the game females through the mud.

Whisper gets randomly fawned over by Silver and Jet of all guys.

Lanolin humiliates Silver and treats him like a child.

Rough and Tumble are too much for Cream the OP to handle.

Starline was hyped up for an extended period as Eggman's superior (no, his final fate did not undo sitting through his agonizing "Sonic VS Eggman is routine" soapboxing).

Surge is being hyped up for even longer as the most badass villain and the most badass character period, despite having absolutely nothing of merit to show for it.

Is it really that hard to find a middle ground? I get you want your character(s) to do big things and be a legitimate part of the cast instead of sitting in the background with their thumbs twiddling, but this is not the way to do it. Trip was only recently introduced to the series, and she found her place just fine. She didn't need to effortlessly beat up Sonic in concept art in order to earn her stripes. She didn't need her creators to brag that she would improve Forces through her mere presence in order to cement her value.

Look. I talk a lot about Trudy. I talk a lot about her role in my fic, her interactions, her dynamics, her abilities, her quirks, all that good stuff. I take her role in the story quite seriously, and in an age where it's become taboo to have your OC do literally anything with the game cast (because overcorrection), I've stuck to my guns and made her a big part of the fic.

But - and this is a big but - none of this comes at the cost of the other characters, or the story as a whole. Sonic is still Sonic, and acts as you'd expect from him. Tails is still Tails, and isn't dismissed by the narrative as a mere sidekick to prop up Trudy as the "true" hero by comparison. Amy is still her bubbly self, not morphed into a Sally clone. Cream is still capable, despite her youth and innocence, and her bond with Trudy doesn't reduce her to literal baby. Eggman treats Trudy no differently from the rest of the cast, and he sure as hell doesn't show any fear at the prospect of facing her. Stellar is not little more than The Trudy Show: it's Sonic's latest adventure in a new land that Trudy happens to be tagging along for, and how he leaves an impression on her. Just like Unleashed did with Chip, and Secret Rings did with Shahra, among other examples.

Even Sonudis, for as Never Going To Happen In Canon For Very Obvious Reasons as it is, is still made with the mentality of not only what Sonic himself is actually like in canon, but the others too. It's not a shallow bait that exists solely to exist, it's something I took seriously in regards to how it could potentially work without sacrificing Sonic's official characterization. Is it a fanfic cliche? Is it self-indulgent? Maybe, but writing fanfic in general is inherently self-indulgent. The sooner you accept that, the better. But as fanfic-y as some concepts may be, I still try to portray them as naturally and as faithfully as I can in respect to the games that spawned this franchise. That includes not reducing Sonic to a lap dog with no independence or backbone.

You can make your character important, and even give them a risky role if you're daring, without disrespecting the game cast and what they contribute to the franchise.

[ickadori]

++ 𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍

[cws] fem reader. durge reader. noncon oral. imprisonment -> aradin is your ‘pet’.

“Someone’ll come for me, and they’ll have your fuckin’ head when they do.”

“Who? Your dead comrades? I didn’t peg you as smart enough for necromancy, Aradin.” Your fingers smooth over soft silk, the fabric feeling foreign from your months spent in blood and grime crusted rags.

Finally making it to Baldur’s Gate after spending day after day in the wilds nearly brought you more joy than a fresh, messy kill did…nearly. Your first stop had been a proper clothing store rather than some merchant on the side of the road selling pillaged clothing, and your next had been to the Sorcerous Sundries, which had brought you to Aradin and his loathsome mouth.

And that’s how you found yourself here - deep underground in a forgotten haven that was in dire need of a few renovations.

“Even if you were capable enough to rise a dead army, they’d hardly prove themselves to be formidable against me.” The man, currently spellbound and unable to move from his spot on the bed, had seen firsthand the horrors you were capable of committing with barely any spent energy. “I think you know that more than anyone.” You twist and turn in the mirror, silently admiring the way the floor length gown flows with your movements.

“So? You’re just gonna keep me here in this fuckin’ pisshole, is that it? You godsdamned Bhaalist fucks.”

“Would you rather I keep you in a shallow grave?” You turn from the mirror and slowly make your way to the bed, eyes falling on the furious expression painted on his features. It’s the only emotion you’ve seen on him since the moment you met him screaming for help at the closed gates of the Grove, and while it does suit him well, you can’t help but think a more…agonized expression would do him better. “Because while I initially had other uses for you, I have no problem picking out your insides and hanging your corpse in the rafters.”

Sweat beads at his temples, and you raise a hand to smear the liquid into his skin, skin that has been meticulously cleaned and scrubbed by Sceleritas at your behest. Aradin snatches away from your touch, and your fingers are quick to slip into curly, dark locks and snatch them at the root. He hisses through clenched teeth, and your lips quirk at the corners at his pained look.

“Would you like that, Mr. Beno?” Your grip tightens and your stomach clenches, body flooding with that all too familiar rush of endorphins. “Would you like me to show you the true beauty of the human body?” The sudden urge to pull, pull, pull until his scalp separates from the rest of his body is ever strong. Your mouth pools with saliva as you imagine the mess; the blood, the hair, the sight of his skull that would undoubtedly call for you to cave it in and reveal what is hidden underneath - a delicacy.

Another day perhaps, you sigh. You have a different purpose for him today, a purpose that you’ve put off since you stepped -flew- off that damned ship. “Another time perhaps. Tonight, I’d like to indulge in something a little less bloody.” Your grip in his hair loosens, fingers combing through soft curls, and your fingers trail down to smooth over his eyebrows. “You really are quite handsome…” It’s a shame that his mouth frequently overshadows that fact.

Aradin watches with suspicious eyes, but otherwise keeps his mouth closed. You gather the bottom of your dress in your hands and lift it as you climb onto the bed to straddle his waist.

“Wh-” His voice cracks and he sneers at you. “What in the nine hells d’you think you’re doing?”

“Trying out my new pet.” You state, dress resting around your hips as you seat your bare sex on his skin. His flesh is hot, soft, muscles twitching and tensing underneath it, and you sigh as you rock against him. “It’d be in your best interest to try very hard to please your new owner, lest you end up at the end of my blade.”

You shuffle further up his body, hand spilling your dress higher to reveal yourself to him, and you watch as his adam’s apple bobs, tongue briefly darting out to wet his dry lips. He goes to say something but stops, and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to know that his blood has run south. Men, such easy creatures.

You’re hovering over his face when he finally gets his voice back, but his insults and threats are quickly quieted as you lower your hips, slick pussy kissing against his lips and clit bumping against his nose.

“Now, pet, I do hope that you plan to keep that title.”

[glowingbadger]

Hi if the requests are still open could I get Hiei and In Heat? Hiei being the one in heat or maybe even both to mix it up.

Also if you wanted extra ideas, they could both have genuine feeling for each other but Hiei is not sure how to deal with his feelings?

If you don't feel inspired with that idea, do whatever you like, your writing is amazing :)

Thank you in advance for doing these requests, I'm looking forward to what combinations others think of

GUYS I finally had the time to fucking WRITE SOMETHING, goddamn. That said, no clue how good this is because I feel like I've been away for so long lmao. But hey, here's hoping I'll have time for more soon.

Hiei (YYH) x GN! Reader

Kink prompts list #54 (In Heat)

NSFW 18+

"It is true that our mutual friend is not an easy one to read, nor to warm to," Kurama had said with a subdued grin, just as you were about to part ways at the train station that afternoon, "But patience bears all sorts of rewards- and besides..." he paused, as though not certain whether he should continue. You looked at him inquisitively, and his smile broadened, "Oh, I was just thinking that I wouldn't be surprised if you saw him perhaps sooner than you'd expected, that's all. Call it a hunch."

Another point for the fox's near prescient intuition- or perhaps he simply had more intel than you did. That very night, you'd wearily closed the door to your bedroom behind you, only to be confronted by scarlet eyes and a hand on the wall pinning you between it and Hiei himself. You say his name in shock, but he hardly seems to hear you. He's... strange. There's a tension wired through his entire body that has his muscles visibly strained. There's something wild in his eyes- something you've seen behind them when the rage inside of him boiled over and his flames couldn't be contained. Sure enough, his body is warm- so warm, radiating, spreading to you as he speaks.

"I'll only say this once, so listen now," he says before you can get a word out, "I need you. It's... agonizing," he grits his teeth for a moment, "I've kept this at bay for long enough. And now, this... this Heat is..."

"Hiei..." you whisper his name as your mind scrambles and trips over itself to make sense of his words. The word "heat" echoes in your thoughts and thrums through your nerves, and you can hardly believe your own senses. Have your unchecked desires manifested in to some sort of lustful hallucination?

But then, Hiei's fingers drag trembling along your cheek and into your hair, and this unsteady contact tells you that, no, this is very real. His touch is fevered and yet tentative, as though exerting every ounce of his focus to be so gentle with you.

"Tell me. Do you... want this..?"

You're still not certain you understand what's happening. It's all so sudden, so unlike him- but if nothing else, you can at least piece together that Hiei desires you, lusts for you, and in the same way those needs have overtaken him, you feel them surging up within you too quickly to be contained.

The moment he sees you give the slightest hint of a nod, he pulls you with unyielding strength towards your bed. And when he kisses you, it feels like you're igniting.

Your fingers drag into his hair, pulling him to you as though you could possibly be any closer. He utters a rasping groan into your mouth, and before you realize what he's doing, he's grabbed a fistful of your shirt and quite literally torn it apart at the front. You might be irritated by this if you weren't so swept up in his relentless pace. Now with access to more soft and vulnerable skin, he harshly kisses and bites his way down your chest, all the while his hands now tug at your thighs, slotting them around his hips until he can rut his cock against your warmth. You catch your breath, your head tilting back on the pillow. For a moment, he fumbles with the button of your jeans, then instead simply snarls out,

"Off."

You rush to obey, your need for him compelling you. So long- fuck, you've wanted this for so long. Had he known all this time that all it would take was a simple command and you would offer yourself to him completely? He must know now; every touch and bite and fevered kiss has you arching your body against him, gasping his name, clawing your nails down his back.

Once you both have wrestled yourselves free of your clothes, he kneels between your parted legs and, to your surprise, halts for a moment. His burning crimson eyes meet yours, his hands grip tight at the outer swell of your thighs, and you can see the red divots left behind in their wake.

"I'm going to make you my mate." he says, and you can see the way his hardened cock twitches at the very thought. An unfamiliar whimper escapes you, but you nod.

"Yes," you whisper, "Hiei, please-"

"That means you're mine, understand?" he leans over you, one hand still firmly at your thigh and the other pinned against the pillow behind you, "Humans have all sorts of ridiculous mating rituals. Ours are simple. I take you, and I keep you. If you're going to regret it, then-"

"I won't," you're not certain what he sees in the direct stare you offer him. Longing, determination, perhaps desperation. Whatever he sees, it seems to satisfy him. His jaw tightens, he shifts towards you, and you feel the tip of his member pressing between your folds. The head catches at your opening, and you gasp as he begins to push into you. You feel yourself stretching around him, squeezing tight as you receive him, but you force your eyes to meet his all the while. With the first couple of inches, his frame tenses. By the time he's half buried in you, his teeth are bared and he's panting softly. Then, he hilts into you to the base, and immediately begins to buck his hips.

"Fuck-!" You gasp aloud, your nails raking down his hard, muscled arms.

"Mine..." you barely hear him mutter amidst panting moans and the sounds of your bodies meeting in blissful, maddening friction, "My mate..."

[rollercoasterwords]

this chapter was so emotional and sad. The way remus was touching sirius, feeling his heartbeat and putting his hand on his chest all the time, like he needed to feel close to sirius’ heart :( I wonder what was going through his head

yeah…might be slightly spoilery but i’m actually in the mood 2 talk a bit abt what’s going on inside his head so 🤭

the thing is i’ve literally been thinking abt this for months like. this was part of a convo i had explaining this whole arc back in january:

so like. literally for remus this whole experience has been. forced 2 work w a guy who represents everything u hate -> start 2 realize that maybe there's more 2 him & begin 2 empathize w him -> hate urself 4 it & hate him for it -> conflicting loop of feelings where u care about him but u hate that u care so u try 2 stop it but u can't stop it. figure once ur done w this mission u won't ever have 2 see him again so just push everything down

and THEN the mission goes sideways and suddenly s is right there. and they need to get him 2 work w the order. and the thing is s was sponsoring him for a year and a half. like they had a year and a half of slowly developing this relationship that r absolutely did not want but was unable to stop feeling things about and was made even more painful by the fact that he knew it was all built on a lie--like even when he did let himself feel something for s, the follow-up to that was immediately like 'oh but this is all fake he wouldn't act this way or be like this if he knew what was really going on.'

so then s is there at order hq and r's walls are immediately back up & he's putting all his effort into reinforcing them. he's like yeah that year and a half was all fake it was just an act none of it was real and i don't care about u. & all he wants is 2 ignore s & move on but he's right there! working w the order! befriending lily! but r is still like. well he's just playing along til he can escape surely that's it. and then suddenly hq gets attacked and it's just the five of them in this little flat and r is still trying 2 ignore him & keep his walls up but he is also still inexplicably drawn 2 him and can't entirely fight it...and then they finally put some of the animosity aside & start working together & he can't ignore the fact that. hey maybe some of that goodness i saw before was real...and even the badness is no longer entirely the same like he's changed! he's grown! he's still changing and growing and like r says when he finally confesses--it isn't fair! (does he say that? i actually can't remember if i ended up including that line or not lol. anyway) like it isn't fair because s is supposed to be evil and everything r stands against and everything he hates and yet he's come along and wormed his way into r's life and made r care about him and part of him hates that but most of him is like. falling in love. and unable to completely deny it anymore. and when they finally reach this breaking point where r essentially confesses all this it's like. he's letting his walls down, finally, after this slow and painful breakdown of all these defenses, and he's letting himself feel hopeful and be vulnerable and think ok maybe we can have something real.

and quite literally immediately after that it's ripped away. and not only ripped away, but r finds out that s knew, when they had that first kiss, that he was going to be losing his memory, that he planned to leave like this, and he still smashed through all r's fucking walls and made him hope they could have something real, knowing it wasn't true. so he's pretty fucking furious! and he's immediately swinging back into denial! the walls are back up reinforced he's like fuck sirius black i hate that man and his fucking mind games i don't fucking love him and i never will so i don't even fucking care that he's gone.

problem with that is. well of course it's not entirely true is it. and as much as he's trying not to care he can't help agonizing over what s could possibly be going through, whether he'll even make it through this alive or whether voldemort will just kill him, and he hates s for making him care and then putting himself in jeopardy like this because now r has to suffer this horrible burden of just worrying about him all the time, even when he doesn't want to, and he also has to carry this burden of wanting him back and wanting things back the way they were even though he knows it's not possible, and he hates s for making him want that, too.

so. yeah. all those conflicting feelings are there during the hookup. and in this ch he's like. giving up, essentially. like he is constantly battling the remnants of this love but for this one night he gives up the fight and just lets himself feel for s, and not all of it's good--the love and the hate are very much intertwined, at this point--but for one night at least he can pretend that he has him and they're together in the way they might have been, had s not left. and it's all confused and compounded by the fact that s doesn't know him, and still finds him, and still wants him, and yet clearly isn't treating this the same way--for s, it's just a casual one-night stand, and it hurts that he can't feel the way r is, but it also hurts when there are those flashes of something deeper, because recognizing the depth of what they might have had if they both just hadn't denied it for so long is incredibly painful. and r is feeling all this, but he isn't consciously processing it--he's shoving all of it down and away and going "this doesn't even matter, it's just a one night stand, i'm not going to care about this" etc. etc. fun!