#cw final fusion

[lanterns-and-lightmares]

Okay I have a question

I know final fusion is something some plurals do strive for, but how can I accurately write the horror of being forced to final fuse?

Like, I’m thinking it’ll be a lot of grief, absence of ��the other”, feeling as if your autonomy has been violated

but how can I write it?

How would you feel if it happened to you?

I know this is a touchy subject, though, so please please please for the love of all that is good do not feel obligated to answer if you aren’t comfortable

[m4ngey]

💛CW mentions of final fusion in systems (as a concept). System rambling.

Despite technically being a system account we rarely ever post about being a system. Part of that I think is because of shame we’ve been fighting through the years and the other part I think is that sense that nobody would really care, despite wanting to educate and such. I’d like us to be more out. We stream openly as a system with our loved ones who all treat us as individuals and try to create a safe space also for others who feel outcasted in some sense. (Neurodiverse, other systems, etc). We encourage people to be their authentic selves to the best of our ability all while sitting here being out but being afraid of drawing attention to it. We want to be people and be seen as individuals but sometimes it feels like the only way to do that and be taken seriously is to be very open about it, make constant content specifically about it, etc. I would love to talk about our day to day interacting with each other in system or our loved ones. I love when other systems have told us they feel safe to be themselves around us/because we are out and fairly open. I don’t think I’m personally afraid of fake claims as much as I’m afraid of feeling like a jester jingling around miserably for the “entertainment” of others and not being able to effectively do what I want, which is normalize systems who want to be treated as individuals getting actually taken seriously and treated like the individuals we are. We aren’t characters. We aren’t “one person who just changes their hat sometimes”, we are our own people. I have a love/hate with the way I see DID and other dissociative disorders received online and I loathe the way others have used it as a scapegoat to be horrible to people we care about over the years. I don’t want to dwell on the negative parts of our diagnosis as it’s not great to be reduced down to a “symptom” instead of a full person the same as the others. Also hate the “you don’t have DID bc you aren’t miserable enough” or on the opposite side of the coin, “wow being a system must be terrible why don’t you try to integrate/achieve “final fusion” Etc etc etc. so on and so forth.

I feel like we shouldn’t need a “good enough reason” to want to “stay plural”. I respect those that want to achieve final fusion through therapy, but it freaks us out. We have friends, partners, lives of our own in some sense and that for me is more than enough reason to find ways to cope and survive as a system.

[bunbunsophy]

i sure hope nothing bad happens like a fraymotif going wrong hey what's that under there

==> don't let go

[plural-culture-is]

what am i supposed to do if i don't really wanna be a system

my system's boring, for lack of a better word. no inner world and no hopes of ever having one; when someone's in front they're never a distinct person from whoever else is in front and when someone's not in front they basically don't exist and both scenarios are just fucking lonely; because of the aforementioned nobody actually likes each other, at most they just like the basic idea of each other; we barely switch, which means interacting with each other is even more annoying because external communication literally just isn't an option; also because of the aforementioned fusion is just not possible, let alone final fusion; no littles or exomemories or anything like that that don't sound exactly fun but are at least interesting; i could go on, just the most stale nothing-burger system one could imagine.

but i can't even just be similar to a singlet oh no no no, i have to be JUST plural enough so that it impacts my life too much for me to ignore it. not in any of the ways that plurality could ever be enjoyable or improve someone's life, just a bunch of identity confusion and derealisation. being a system never helps me with my mental health, especially since none of us have roles or anything. all our trauma and mental illness and adult responsibilities are just dumped on whoever's in front this month, and if i need a protector or caretaker then too bad so sad i have to make myself feel better on my own.

i'd probably be fine with all of that if it weren't for the fact everyone else has interesting systems where shit actually happens. saying "oh well all systems are different" doesn't really help because my concern isn't that i'm weird it's that i'm missing out. even if i was a singlet i'd still be able to make my own system if i really wanted to, but i already have a system and it already has clear-cut functions that i can't bullshit my way out of. i just got the worst possible outcome. it's absolutely miserable, what am i supposed to get out of this.

i just want something to make it better. a way to get rid of my system or advice on how to go forward or whatever i'm just sick of this stupid fucking system. none of us like it and none of us ever will.

Final fusion generally isn't something a system can achieve on their own, it's something that takes work with a therapist to guide you. If this is something you want, finding a therapist who will help you with that is your best option. Alternatively, there may be therapists who can help you with communication and making your system function the way you want if that's something you're struggling to do on your own, but there are also guides on those kinds of things if you don't have access to a therapist (like these guides on how to build a headspace, this guide on communication, and these switching guides)

[catiuskaa]

HEURES D’ABSENCE.

come to bed (study me instead).

sum. felix knows you have to study, but… he smells so nice too… ok, hear me out… what if, instead, he helps you... review your research material?

wc: 4.3k

cw: sun & moon metaphors, felix is so down bad, minsung is mentioned, they’re so silly, sir kink? (not explored), kisses, kisses, kisses, oral (m.rec), soft yet unprotected piv sex (don’t!), and that’s all, folks!

scent. (♡) the perfume saga.

[🔹★💤 ★🔹]

The Sun is the star at the center of the Solar System. It is a massive, nearly perfect sphere of hot plasma, heated to incandescence by nuclear fusion reactions in its core, radiating the energy from its surface mainly as visible light and infrared radiation with 10% at ultraviolet energies. It is by far the most important source of energy for life on Earth. The Sun has been an object of veneration in many cultures. It has been a central subject for astronomical research since antiquity.

It's kind of an obvious statement, I know, but Felix resembles it quite well, with a couple of exceptions. You know for a fact that he too is by far your most important source of energy for life on Earth. Still, even if Felix can’t help but giggle every time you compare him to the massive star —reason why now his friends call him Sunny, too— he doesn’t feel like he can compare.

He hopes he never gets heated to incandescence. He isn’t sure if any culture venerates him, but he’s quite sure to say that the chances are quite low. He also hopes no one calls him a ‘yellow dwarf.’ But ultimately, he knows he isn’t that massive star that the Earth orbits around because, if he were, he’d probably have a bright, nuclear solution to his silly recent troubles.

But Felix groans. He isn’t as observant as he’d like to be. Moreover, when he does eventually see it, somehow it is always a bit too late.

Hogging the blankets and hugging a pillow, he sinks his head into it again. He’s been turning in bed for what feels like hours because he can’t help but notice it now. He can’t help but wonder how it could escalate to such an extent right under his nose.

Felix blinks, sleepy, but not quite enough to fall asleep.

But hogging the blankets isn’t his thing. He feels hot, so he pushes the bedsheets off of him, just for his arms to feel cold, to which he mumbles a curse and grabs the blanket again. This is bugging him. A lot. Like, sure, it was happening under his nose, but his nose wasn’t even that big. It keeps going for a while: hot, cold, hot, cold.

It’s unfair, or so he feels. It’s gotta be, he grimaces, as he covers himself top to bottom with the stupid blanket, and sticks his foot out. Weirdly, that scares him, so he groans and finally surrenders.

Ladies and gents, it only took Felix a week to figure out and acknowledge: it’s getting harder to sleep without you by his side. The excuse his body gives him is another, however, so he rises from his bed and heads out.

If you hear the faint sounds the wood makes with each of his steps as he goes from his room to the kitchen, he does not know. Felix just stares at your room’s door in your shared apartment, and there’s not even a shy move. Nothing what-so-ever. Not even the slightest gust of wind that moves it.

Felix sighs, the hair in his arms spiky as he opens the fridge and a shiver rushes while he grabs a bottle of water, chugging it as if the answer to his troubles is at the end. Somehow, he never reaches it. He swallows, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the cold remnants of it quickly fade away down his throat.

That refreshes him, but the light from the fridge killed every ounce of sleepiness in his eyes. He leans his elbows on the kitchen counter, passing his hands through his hair.

It’s a struggle for him, and maybe he comes to terms with it just because it’s late at night for him. Because this is as pathetic as it sounds: you have been locked up in your room on a day-to-day basis because of your exams, and even if Felix understands, cooks you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and checks on you when it’s late just to move your sleepy body from your desk to your bed, not seeing you aside from that is getting harder and harder.

Mhhm. Damn right. Pathetic, he knows. His roommate Minho—a poor guy stuck living in a flat with a lovey-dovey couple— had laughed one day so hard that they kicked them both out of the university’s library.

“I mean, sure I might miss Jisung like that whenever he has exams, but if I lived with him?” Minho scoffs as they both get out of the library. He feels bad for the blond boy though, so he sighs, patting his back. “Maybe you guys should talk this out, Sunny. C’mon, let’s get some hot coffee.”

Minho was in Jisung's apartment tonight, so Felix couldn’t go and bother him as he usually did. The only light in the flat was the one that escapes from the underside of your door. Like a moth, he gets closer, surrendering again. He sighs as he steps towards your room. Only then, he stops.

He doesn’t want to bother you. It may sound like a stupid excuse that he makes for himself, but ultimately it’s the only truth he knows. However, he grins, thinking that chances are you’ve probably fallen asleep on the desk again, your room smelling like paper, ink, and noodles. He can lie to himself and say that he was only going to tuck you into bed like usual. And so, taking the doorknob in his hand, and breathes out before opening it.

…until, well. You’re not asleep.

The Moon is Earth's only natural satellite. It orbits at an average distance of 384,400 km (238,900 mi), about 30 times the diameter of Earth. Tidal forces between Earth and the Moon have synchronized the Moon's orbital period (lunar month) with its rotation period (lunar day) at 29.5 Earth days, causing the same side of the Moon to always face Earth. The Moon's gravitational pull is the main driver of Earth's tides.

Maybe that is why as soon as the door is open, his heart dances in his chest. Maybe your gravitational pull is insignificant compared to that of the actual grey satellite, but Felix doesn’t have it in him to care when all he wants is to melt by your side. ‘You’re awake,’ he wants to say, but he shrugs it off. That’s a stupid sentence, even for him to say at three am. It is a fact that you barely sleep and that only worsens during exams week.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t let himself dwell on how not creative his mind turns out to be in the worst moments, not while your eyes hold his. It’s then when he sees through the midst of tired, sleepy confusion in the colour of your eyes that the hours of absence, of longing, of craving, crash against you almost as strongly as they crash against him. The sun and the moon on a collision course—fiery and untouchable, yet destined to shatter the sky when they finally meet.

There are no words —no other worlds: a star, and a satellite— as he stares at you, as you sit on the floor, against the edge of your bed, your room a mess and your desk a battleground that, by the looks of it, Felix can’t help but think you’re not having the upper hand in this war you’re fighting against piles of printed put PDFs. You want to stand up and hug him as if you haven’t seen him in months, but you don’t know your right foot from your left, your mind baffled and your heart swooning as soon as the dim light of your desk lets you see some of his darkest freckles, even as far away as he stands.

And somehow, he understands, meeting you halfway. Maybe he doesn’t, but you don’t have it in you to give a damn. Not when he’s back at your side.

It’d be foolish if he tried it right away, and maybe it’s because he knows you so well, but you appreciate that he doesn’t immediately urge you to go back to bed. Felix wouldn’t know if you had been in bed to begin with, but nevertheless, he sits with you against it, the only sound in the room being the ruffle the bedsheets make as he pulls at them to settle them back on the bed, and the sound of your computer’s fan, setting the mood just right.

You would’ve made that joke out loud, but you don’t have the energy. Not when all of your remaining energy goes to pay attention to the very much welcomed presence next to you, when he cradles your face with the palm of his hand, and every bit of hopelessness of your coloured eyes hits him, unrestrained.

“My misty moon.”

It’s a whisper, one that makes your heart sink. You missed that silly nickname so much, and it’s almost ridiculous –you have seen him during the week, but still, it doesn’t feel the same.

His arm slithers its way to your waist, scooching himself closer to you. You blink, noticing your eyes are teary.

Misty, ha. So funny.

Maybe you missed him that much, because it cracks a smile out of you. You don’t dare to doubt that you did. Maybe it’s because you’re stressed because of all the sheer amount of work you still have left to do —just the thought of it makes the room spin.

He hugs you tighter. Felix doesn’t know what to do. He pulls you closer. No, closer. His soft hands move to your thigh and pick you up, sitting you on his lap. He’s never seen you look so fragile.

It was silly. It was you who had asked him to let you be while exams lasted, because you concentrated better alone. The environment chaotic, sure, because you hadn’t had a dinner before two am that wasn’t noodles in like, a week,  but still, even when you were roommates, he knew better than to approach you during exams. You had always made it clear: you just worked like that. He didn’t get it, but he also knows he’d do whatever you need. It hurt his soft little heart to see you push yourself so hard, but in the end, it always paid off.

But you had been missing him so much. So, so, so much you almost were convinced it couldn’t be normal. That you shouldn’t be. You had barely been together for a year, even if you had lived as roommates for longer. Was that even allowed? To miss someone so vividly when they are in the room next to you?

His chest feels warm against you. Oh, you missed him. Your chest gnaws at the feeling, your own heart hating you —despising you, even— from keeping it away from the warmth of this sun for so long —a little over a week— because, how could you be so cruel, your heart whines, teary and all smiley now.

You nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, and he chuckles softly.

“You’re tickling me, moonmuffin.”

His- his voice? His laugh? Surely he’s got to be trying to murder you in cold blood and cuddles. What else could he be attempting when he feels so soft and so warm and so kissable and so… Felix.

“You smell nice,” you mumble instead, excusing yourself as you attempt to break each and every law of physics you may or may not remember as you move and fail to get even closer to him.

“What?” he giggles again, his hands traveling to thread your hair.

His fingers through your scalp feel so nice you sigh and melt against him. You agree with your heart: how dare you take this away for a week? You should be imprisoned and sentenced to mandatory cuddles for the rest of your life. Yeah. Life-sentence cuddles. You brush your nose slightly over his collarbone. You’re lucky you even remember what you had been saying.

“Not my fault. You smell nice.”

You should peach the idea. Life sentence cuddles for not having cuddles before. For attempting to even succeed in not having cuddles for a week. That? That’s fucking crazy.

“Mooncakes. How about we get you to bed, mmh?”

Maybe two life sentences. ‘Damn. You’re really sleep deprived’, a voice in your head tells you, but you ignore it, loving the thought of cuddles and Felix for life. Wait, no, even better: Felix’s cuddles for life. That way you didn’t need to worry about not having two lives. You could just cuddle. With Felix.

Meanwhile, Felix doesn’t even struggle when his hand passes behind your knees and holds your back, carefully standing up and getting you in bed, and quickly reaching for the blanket to tuck you in.

“What are you mumbling about,” he smiles, stroking your cheek.

His touch feels softer than all the blankets in your apartment combined. Like cotton and clouds, soft, mushy, effervescent. A-blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of deal. Which is a very big deal, because there is no way in hell Felix even tries to leave. You have been sentenced to cuddles for life, and the law is the law.

“Oh no, mister,” you blink, smiling softly. “You don’t get to leave now.”

His eyes are like crescent moons while you look at him as if he was crazy. As if the mere thought of him trying to leave was mindboggling, along with downright impossible. Fat chance you were going to let him go past that door tonight. Or ever, your heart snickers, rubbing hands like birdman, almost menacingly.

“The bed is cold,” he teases.

“Warm it up, Sunny.”

Your reply comes faster than he anticipated despite how sleepy you look, and Felix can’t help but smile. He missed how that nickname sounded in your voice, even if it was layered below sleepiness. “Smartass,” he grins, but he tries to keep his promise. Just in case. He wouldn’t want you to be pissed off at him in the morning. “You should sleep.”

“Haha. As if.”

Your hands travel and link behind his head, keeping him an inch from your face. You’re making this too hard for poor, weak, little Felix, but he bites his lip. His voice turns even softer, a whisper against your lips.

“But I’ll just keep you awake.”

Your eyes trail down to his lips, and he’s so close to losing it. “Somehow I still don’t see the issue,” you mumble.

His nose strokes yours as he can’t help but giggle. “You’re so gonna get all moony about it tomorrow.”

“What does that even mean,” you scrunch your nose, much to his amusement.

Felix just laughs, shaking his head sheepishly.

“We should sleep.”

“Right.”

“You’ll be mad at me if you feel tired tomorrow.”

Now that makes you giggle, letting out a sound much like a lie detector would. A strange meeh that, had he not been as tired as he was, Felix would’ve rolled his eyes at.

“Wrong.”

He sighs, the smile on his face not faltering for a millisecond. “You’re making this too hard.”

You blink at him innocently, and Felix indulges again. Maybe because it’s late, but honestly, his mind is too tired to make up an excuse as to why he lowers his head and kisses your temple.

He hears how your breath hitches, and that makes him as giddy as the first time.

“You know, I read something off the pages on the floor last night,” Felix chuckles, stroking your nose with his as you blink and blush.

“Oh?” You smile, cheekily interested.

“Oh,” he teases you. “So, philosophy major, what’s all that with kisses and their meanings?”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, the thought of taking the spare pillow on your bed and hitting him with it getting tempting.

Felix’s hands play with the ends of your hair as it rests against the pillow below your head, a mindless action that he only stops to cradle your face and press against your cheeks teasingly.

“My cute fluffy moon. A philosophy romantic.”

“Enough,” you whine, laughing. His heart does a little dance every time he gets a chuckle out of you, and this time, a win is a win. “Fine, I’ll tell you about it.”

“You know, I’m actually a visual learner?”

Felix bites his tongue when your eyebrows raise. Even he knew that was fairly smooth, which is only acknowledged when you roll your eyes.

“So, technicalities aside, because I refuse to tell the intro again or even read it within the next ten hours,” you state, making him laugh as you continue talking, “the human species has many types of kissing. And all of them have different underlining meanings.”

The look in his brown eyes remains expecting, however, so it seems that short explanation won’t do to make the suddenly-turned Professor Felix happy. Or so he makes it seem, by how he fakes pushing non-existent glasses further the bridge of his nose.

“That seems like an interesting research,” he starts, pushing the non-existent glasses again. “I see,” he snorts, because it’s late, it’s a lame joke, and he’s trying to get you to give him the kisses he’s been missing all week —and he may be close to getting some, which he celebrates silently.

“Any examples, perchance?”

And just why the hell would you refuse?

“Of course, sir,” it’s just because of his formal tone, but something in the air shifts. Maybe just the dust that gets bored and changes direction in the air, but Felix’s eyes also do something you can’t quite place. But your mind goes up to the files, seeing if you understand the topic you are researching.

“How about we do it this way— you say a body part, and I tell you its meaning?”

Oh, fuck yeah. Felix can’t believe he’s getting it this easily. He could die right now, filled with the cheeky malice of getting a plan executed successfully, but he ain’t dying without those kisses.

He ponders carefully but decides to start easy. “A kiss on the cheek?”

As your hands softly move to cradle his face, the feeling of your soft lips against his skin, soft soft soft, so soft he can’t think of a better adjective to describe it nor another by any chance, the gentle and tender press of your kiss triggers the butterflies that linger around in his system ever since he’d started liking you.

“Depending on the culture, a kiss on the cheek indicates affection or tries to portray a sense of welcoming,” you state in a calming voice filled with sleepiness that’s slowly starting to wear off.

“Forehead.” Felix grins, feeling his cheeks heat up when your hands move his head so you can reach from where you are lying down underneath him and shortly peck him.

“A deep wish for protection, with underlying affection. A way to express one’s desire for the other’s well-being.”

“I uh… may be running out of ideas,” Felix chuckles sheepishly. But please don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop. Ever.

He shuts up his heart as you start speaking. “I’ll take the microphone from here, then,” you laugh.

And Felix smiles widely as he starts being pampered to death in the form of kisses. A kiss on his earlobe, “to provoke arousal.” A kiss on his hands, “to greet with respect.” A tiny peck on his nose,  “to express care.” A slightly longer kiss on his lips, “love,” you continue as you smile at him.

Had he been standing, Felix would’ve swooned by now. He doesn’t know how his arms haven’t surrendered and finally refused to hold his weight over you, but there he remains, over you, legs tangled underneath the bedsheets, with the only light in the room —your desk light— lighting not only his face, but also his eyes as they shine brighter after every kiss.

“Now, as you so obviously know, as a thorough expert in the matter,” you joke, happy to make him laugh, “other, different kisses may share meaning with these.”

“I see. Go on, then.”

It only takes another “Of course, sir,” and there it goes again. The tension in the room spikes up, like the hair in your arms whenever you look at the mess your room is in during exams.

But you’re having fun. And you smile. “A kiss on the lips indicates love, as I stated prior,” you snicker, kissing him on the lips again, maybe to make a point, maybe because after all these kisses he’s starting to taste like the most delicious thing you could take to your mouth.

Blame the tension for that, your heart grins at you, pushing you from behind to keep going. And there you go.

“There’s also what is called French kissing.” You swear you can see the exact moment where your desk light rats him out, allowing you to see how his pupils darken when instead of lifting your head to reach him, you finally link your arms behind his head and pull him down towards you, kissing him on the lips again, deeply this time, nibbling on his lips and taking advantage of the moment he smiles to slide your tongue in.

Felix isn’t just on cloud nine. He’s on cloud nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine. He’s never been so high in the sky, and even if it is currently past midnight, had he been the actual, real Sun, not only would he be shining as much as he is now, but also make tomorrow the day with the clearest blue skies.

None of you can tell who is it that starts deepening the kiss. None of you can tell who’s the first that starts panting and gasping while both his and your hands start to map the other’s body, as if they’ve lost something and were sure the other one had it hidden somewhere.

You, however, are sure that there’s no such thing as a good night kiss anymore, because, with Felix’s knee between your thighs and his tongue in your mouth, you’re so not going to allow this alluring man who you’ve been dreaming about since the exams week started to leave you just like that.

To hell with tomorrow’s exam.

Felix, the poor boy, can’t read your mind. Maybe that’s why he gasps so heavily he lets out a moan when you roll him to his back and kiss him again before he can catch his breath. Maybe it's why he keeps letting out moans when he notices you smiling as you kiss him, your hands trailing up below his shirt.

“T-that tickles,” he smiles, panting, as your fingers trail faintly over his skin, making him feel goosebumps.

It doesn’t tickle anymore when it’s your lips that follow his happy trail, down, down, down. He takes off his shirt as if it’s burning, and if he’s honest with himself, he can’t think of a time when he has wanted this as desperately as he does now.

There’s no doubt in his mind that in your darkened eyes the same thought lingers on your head, while they stare deeply into his own, almost in a way capturing his soul, the sensation as effervescent yet not as pleasurable as the one that travels from his dick to his whole body as your hand closes around it. God, if Felix loves that sensation. He was so drunk once that he remembers thinking that if he could marry it, he probably would’ve. Somewhere in Las Vegas, too.

His head falls limp against the pillows with a thud, his hand threading into your hair as pretty little moans leave past his lips, following the sticky sweet sounds your mouth starts to make as you attempt to take him in, hollowing your cheeks and leaving your hand at the base to make up for what you can’t fit.

“F-fuck, baby, that’s so good…” he lets out over and over,” so good, baby, so good,” he almost mewls, “missed you s’much, fuck…”

He lets out a groan as he moves your head away, because he could bet money that he was a beat way from bursting, and he wouldn’t lose. Even then, losing the opportunity to fuck you for all the times he sighed pathetically this week, missing you when you were just next door, is much, much worse.

Felix’s soft hands travel, stroking every square inch of surface he can at a time, passing your thighs, your stretch marks and your hip dips —ones he has been a devout worshiper for God knows how long, dedicating entire nights (and days, if it had been only for him) to the both of them— bending to press soft kisses from your tummy up to your cleavage, his hands playing with your nipples just to hear your whines as he helps you lean your back down softly on the bed.

Felix whispers soft and tender nothings in your ear, mixed with silly sentences just because he’s missed having you below him so stupidly, stupidly because you’ve missed him just as much. He too kisses you everywhere after he slides in, only because he’s pretty sure that if he starts moving right away, he might not last as long as he wants.

Your cheek, your forehead, your temple, on the palm of your hand before linking his fingers with it, on your nose just so he can smile at you when you scrunch it.

“Sunny, don’t tease,” you pout cutely, moving your hips.

Finally, Felix giggles as he dives for your lips deeply. And when he kisses you, you smile, reeling in the feeling of his lips against your lips.

A solar eclipse.

[🔹★💤 ★🔹]

~kats, who’s genuinely tweaking bc why do i feel like this wouldn’t work if i hadn’t sneaked astronomical stuff in it?

catiuskaa, february 2025 ©

I AM??? SO SORRY?? I HAVEN'T POSTED IN?? SO LONG?? MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR??? LIKE ??'?'?'?' I MISSED SO MUCH??

[junovae]

scusi scusi

can i get genshin impact x reader

specifically neuvi x paralegal!reader and they're in a cute relationship

maybe after a case win they fuck PLEASE PLEASE PLEWAE EPLEASE PLEASP PLEASE PLEASE

OOOH THE IDEAS I HAVE FOR THIS ONE. yes :D i'd be so happy to write this.

in contempt of innocence

lawyer!neuvillette x paralegal!fem!reader ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ nsfw bonus

artwork: artwork is NOT mine. art is by @l78154477 on twitter. go check out their art if u have time T_T so mf pretty.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

summary: a collection of bullet-points spanning academic life and the dynamic of working as neuvillette’s very own paralegal at the lex fontaine.

cw: lawyer!neuvillette x paralegal!fem!reader, bullet-points post case win celebration namsayin - nsfw (MDNI), angry fucking, not so fast there's a plot beforehand, neuvillette wears glasses when he's writing, specifically rectangle frames, you also wear red rectangle frames, pining, angst, groveling for sure, academic rivals, there's still a cute relationship, he may get jealous and possessive heh

wc: storyline - 2.1k, nsfw - 4k

a.n: emphasis on neuvillette wearing rectangle frames AH. and also we are bullet-pointing this because i fear that this will make a long oneshot or a story with multiple chapters if details were elaborated on.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

𓂃 𓈒𓏸 academia 𓂃 𓈒𓏸

to your surprise, you reconnect with neuvillette at fontaine's research institute

you are both studying to become lawyers, with the eventual goal of working for the archon of justice

your families have known each other for many years. though your families were close, you barely saw him since he had been studying at sumeru's akademiya ever since you were kids

he'd still spend summers in fontaine, and during these times, your childhood crush on him began to develop, though it eventually faded away

he decided to spend his final year of school back in fontaine to gain legal experience in its environment

before the school year begins, your friends insist on taking you to the bar to loosen up and "mentally prepare." to your surprise, you meet a pair of ethereal purple eyes—an enchanting fusion of beauty and chaos

"oh, it’s you," he says, nonchalantly

the school year begins, and you and neuvillette inevitably become the top students in class, constantly competing for the highest grades and recognition

you are convinced that his position as the successor to fontaine's chief justice is getting to his head, especially since his father is the current one

you are determined to prove him wrong

“you seem to be missing the core principle here. the law is not about ideals, it's about what can be proven in court," he argues one day during a heated class debate on legal ethics. you squint and smile at him, ready to rebuttal. "your parents are lawyers, no? you think the law can be so easily distilled into mere facts? what about human justice?"

despite the rivalry, there seems to be an undeniable attraction and admiration simmering beneath the surface

during a late-night study session at the library, the two of you are working on a challenging case. frustrated by a legal loophole, you struggle to find a solution, and neuvillette offers his help in a cocky way

"why don’t you try solving this if you think it’s so easy?" you snap

"i'd be glad to, but your method of working through it is... unorthodox," he says with a smug smile. oh, you wanted to punch him so badly.

your sharp banter begins to turn into genuine collaboration

as the year goes on, you spend more time with your childhood friend, refining cases, debating, and studying for the bar exam

one night after a long session, he pauses his reading and looks at you. "i regret not studying here earlier," he says. "why? this place too easy for you?" "no. if i had, i could've gotten to know you better." betraying your rivalry, your heart skips a beat

unwanted feelings start to grow on your end, but you can’t help it. you’ve come to admire and respect him on a deeper level, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe he feels the same way too

it's the day of the bar exam, and neuvillette is waiting for you outside the building by the fountain

he checks his watch, his eyes scanning the crowd for your face. he catches a glimpse of you. uh oh, you look sad

"i'm just kidding, i did pass!" you smile. he instantly picks you up by your waist and spins you in a tight hug. you break away, faces close to each other, smiling. you smelled like moonflowers, he noticed. his favorite

graduation approaches, and with each passing day, neuvillette becomes more elusive. you realize you're falling for him, but he's pulling away, becoming distant

one day, as you're walking to your dormitory, you overhear neuvillette's voice talking to a friend, asking about you who noticed the tension building between the two of you

"i can't let myself get distracted. my future... my family needs me to focus on my career"

in that moment, you decide to bury your feelings. it's better this way. you tell yourself you can't afford to be a distraction to someone with neuvillette's responsibilities

it's graduation day. you walk on stage, receiving your awards and degree

your eyes meet a familiar shade of purple. he holds your gaze, but nothing is there

there is an unspoken agreement between you and neuvillette: stay away from each other. don't be a distraction. from that day on, the two of you part ways and never speak to each other again

𓂃 𓈒𓏸 the lex fontaine 𓂃 𓈒𓏸

the archons have blessed you. you finally quit your job at virdictis legal group and landed a position at the well-known and well-established ✧ lex fontaine ✧

although you were offered a position as a paralegal (unfortunately, having to start from the bottom at this company), you were still ecstatic

it was your first day, and you were told to wait in the fancy lobby to be assigned to the lawyer you'd be working with

"hello, miss," a sweet melusine grabs your attention. "this is the senior lawyer you've been assigned to work with"

to your surprise, it was him. the leviathan judiciary himself. neuvillette's eyes flicker with recognition, but he maintains his professional demeanor

"i wasn't expecting to see you here," he says stoically

"neither was i," you say coolly

the melusine smiles and skips away happily. he turns around and walks off, not even motioning for you to follow him

"you're lucky with your timing. we just got assigned probably one of the most important cases in fontaine's history"

in his office, he explains the case regarding the hydro archon, focalors. just the brevity of her name sends you into hyperfocus. this case was important. you take notes

as he explains the situation, neuvillette takes you in. a lot about you has changed. you were always beautiful, but fuck, you've somehow grown even more gorgeous

he notices your red rectangular frames. stunning

moonflower

though you looked different, one thing remained the same: you still smelled like moonflowers

days go by, and you've adjusted to your new job, gathering evidence

and honestly, you were still bitter. your past feelings for him lay dormant but unresolved, all the more now that you were working under him as his paralegal

neuvillette, on the other hand, feels guilty for how he treated you all those years ago. but he's very good at hiding it behind a mask of professionalism

despite the tension, he wants to make amends with you. he knows you want nothing to do with him, but all these years, he's thought about you

in the mornings, you'd find a warm cup of coffee on your desk once you arrived at work. it was just to your liking

late at night, he'd occasionally check in on you to make sure you were doing okay, offering his guidance on difficult cases. you'd politely refuse

when commuting to meetings with clients, he'd open the door for you and offer to carry your cases. this, you agreed to

and of course, you'd notice all these things, but you don't allow yourself to take them to heart. though you two have history, you didn't want to be his distraction yet again.

on an evening when you're working late, he walks in and notices that you're exhausted

"you've been here for hours. take a break. you'll burn yourself out"

"i can handle it," you snap back, irritated from today's challenges

hours later, he comes back to check in on you. he lets out a soft, deep laugh when he sees you slumped over your desk, drooling on the paper in front of you

when you wake up, you find a soft blanket wrapped around you

during a trip, the two of you visit the maison gardiennage. a charming and ambitious man begins to show interest in you. neuvillette notices, and though he tries to remain indifferent, the jealousy eats at him

one day, he sees you laughing with the very same maison gardiennage officer. had he come to visit you at work? he watches you from the balcony, his jaw tightening

you catch him staring, but he quickly looks away. you can't help but smirk

days leading up to the trial of the century, you and neuvillette spend countless sleepless nights, reviewing evidence, strategizing, and brainstorming in intense, focused sessions. this eases some of the tension between the two of you, leaving you stuck somewhere between less than friends but more than strangers

this reminds you of your late-night study sessions

one night, the two of you are in his office, papers scattered everywhere. you both decide to share a bottle of wine to unwind after a particularly exhausting day

in a spare moment of silence, you take him in. you notice how his rectangular frames sit on the bridge of his nose as he turns the pages of his paper. he has long since shed the professional look, now dressed in a white button-up with the top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up. a strand of white hair falls across his face

suddenly, leaning back in his chair and half-smiling, he says, "i forgot how easy it is to talk to you"

you tilt your head, taunting him with squinted eyes and a half-smile. "of course you did. you distanced yourself from me, remember? i was just a distraction to you"

he's taken aback. had you really heard him say that? he quickly regains his composure, but his expression falters. standing up, he moves toward you with urgency. he was determined to make it right with you, right here and now. "i thought i was doing the right thing. i was so focused on my career that i let go of what truly mattered"

"and what could that be, hm? you can’t just undo what you did," you hum, looking up at him as he hovers over you

"i know." and without a warning, he pulls you closer to him and gently kisses you. his mouth warm and tongue waiting to be invited in. you are angry at yourself for giving in this easily. but you know that the deepest parts of you wanted this for years

when you break apart, you are both left breathless, looking at each other. you look at him through lidded eyes, and something stirs within him—an impulse to take you right there, to make up for all the years of unsaid words. but he restrains himself, knowing that's not what you truly want. he is determined to do this the right way, to earn your forgiveness

"i'm sorry. i was wrong, but you don't know how much i've been wanting to make it up to you. my heart is in your hands," he whispers, his vulnerability laid bare. gently, he places your hand against his cheek, his lips brushing softly against your wrist—a tender gesture of both apology and devotion

you stand frozen, unsure of how to respond. the walls you meticulously built are beginning to crumble, yet undeniably, you are scared of getting hurt again. vulnerability feels like walking a precarious tightrope, with the memory of past pain threatening to unbalance you at any moment

on the days leading up to the trial, you and neuvillette tentatively begin to mend your broken friendship, slowly bridging the chasm of years lost to time. cautious understanding replaces the previous distance, each careful conversation a step towards reconnection

on the day of the trial, despite nerves and fear, you and neuvillette have rebuilt a mutual respect and admiration. he moves with calculated precision, cunningly rebutting every statement thrown his way—his eloquence a shield, his intellect a weapon carefully wielded in the face of adversity

after hours of intense back and forth, the verdict finally arrives. the oratrice declares a victor, and the courtroom erupts in cheers. the hydro archon radiates pure joy, while neuvillette meets your eyes across the crowded room, a moment of shared triumph and unspoken understanding passing between you

you feel ecstatic. in this shared moment of victory, a panorama of memories floods your mind—every excruciating obstacle you both had to overcome. you can't help but look at neuvillette with a deep, familiar admiration, the same reverence you've held for him throughout your life. though a part of you remains guarded, scared of potential hurt, you now know with certainty that he would spend a lifetime making amends if necessary. in this moment, you allow your feelings to revive, your heart fluttering with tentative hope. yes, a part of you is still wounded, still hesitant—but for the first time, you are truly willing to start over

“you did it," you mouth to him

he nods at you, “we did it”

𓂃 𓈒𓏸 nsfw bonus 𓂃 𓈒𓏸

cw: unprotected sex, starts off gentle at first but then progresses, consensual, positions, jealous fucking, make-up fuck session, accidental edging, praising, foreplay on reader muaha, aftercare, you’re wearing a pencil skirt hehe

quick a.n: hi reader! i don't write much detailed nsfw often but i tried my best with this one mwehehe. also this took forever to come out, sorry. had to lock in for finals. do enjoy! "hey." a familiar voice calls your name, cutting through the hum of conversation in the court of fontaine's grand lobby. you're standing off to the side, suitcase in hand, waiting for neuvillette to finish his discussion with the high officials. right now, he's speaking with the hydro archon herself. your gaze lingers as she wraps her arms around him and places a kiss on his cheeks, a pang of jealousy stirring in your chest. before the feeling can take root, you turn toward the voice. it's the maison gardiennage garde—the one who's taken a particular liking to you.

"oh, hi! santallier, how are you?" you greet, stepping forward to embrace him in the hug he's offering.

"hi," he says, pulling away from your hair. little did you know, another pair of sharp eyes were watching your innocent encounter with the garde. "i just wanted to congratulate you on the win. not a lot of people know you played an important role in this, so i wanted to make sure you knew," he says sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

you tilt your head and smile. "santallier! thank you so much, i truly do appreciate it." you go in for another hug, excitedly wrapping your arms around him, almost jumping into the embrace. you don’t notice that the skirt you're wearing rides up your posterior slightly, quickly exposing the white lace beneath. in the distance, you hear a loud cough, but you're too caught up in your own bliss to pay it any mind. "you're very kind."

"it's no problem, really," he chuckles, gently setting you down. regaining his composure, he asks, "i was wondering if you wanted to do something after this? maybe we could grab some coffee at café lutece, and then take a little stroll around the court of fontaine’s park?"

you take his hand in yours, excitement lighting up your face as you eagerly agree. "yes, let's go! i've been needing a break after all the hard work these past few months."

"really?" he says, his voice filled with excitement.

"mhm!" you nod, a wide smile spreading across your face.

"what time should i pick you up from your apartment?" santallier asks, already planning out his outfit in his head.

"not tonight," a deep, smooth voice cuts through your conversation. "she's busy tonight." you feel a larger, calloused hand pull yours away from santallier's grasp from behind you. you turn your head to see neuvillette, his stoic, unreadable gaze meeting yours as he looks down into your eyes.

"what? no, i'm not. you said i could take a break tonight," you snap at him, frustration creeping into your voice. he lets out an annoyed grumble, his expression hardening.

"you are. we still have unfinished work to do tonight," he responds, his tone firm. neuvillette turns to a now upset santallier, his expression cold. "she's busy tonight. don't bother checking up on her later. or ever."

before you could protest, neuvillette drags you away by your hand. sheepishly, you mouth an apology to santallier. he gives you a soft smile and a wave, indicating that it was okay.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

the two of you walk through the empty office, the moonlight casting a soft glow through the window wall. neuvillette guides you to his private workroom, and as you enter, he lets go of your hand. you slam the office door shut behind you, leaning your back against it as your eyes narrow, fixating on his back.

"what the hell? you said i had tonight off," you snap, your voice tinged with frustration as you cross your arms, still glaring at his back.

he turns around to face you, his expression unwavering. "not anymore," he scoffs. "you're going to be with me tonight."

"this is tyranny! what if i don't want to be with you?" you snap back, anger bubbling to the surface as you stand your ground.

an unknown look flickers across his face. "too bad," he says, making his way to his desk. you watch as he uncuffs his watch and tosses it onto the surface, then removes his blazer, leaving only his white button-up shirt. "i don't care," he hums, his voice devoid of emotion.

you stride over to his desk and slam your arms down on its surface. his eyes narrow as he takes in your slightly bent posture and the way your arms are pushing your chest together, accentuating your cleavage. he clenches his jaw tightly and you can sense the underlying emotion that caused such a reaction - it's the same feeling you experienced when you saw focalors embracing him earlier today. "you're jealous," you tease with a smirk on your face.

his eyes snap up to meet yours, intense and unwavering. he matches your stance, hands pressed on the surface of his desk, leaning forward to face you. the two of you are now locked in a silent standoff across the desk, an unspoken battle happening between your eyes. the only sound in the room is the crackle of the fireplace by the bookshelves, adding an eerie tension to the stillness.

he leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper that catches you off-guard. "so what if i am?"

your eyes soften, but there's still caution in them as you process his words. seeing you stare at him like that, with such vexation, unsettles him. he didn’t like it. ever since graduation day, he had thought about you—about how poorly he’d handled the whole situation. his family had put so much pressure on him, and with those expectations weighing on him, he had been a bottle, just waiting to explode. and when he did, for some stupid reason, he placed the blame on you. and now, he can only himself for it.

he’s thought about how he could make it up to you, if you’d ever listen to him, that is. and like the archons had answered his yearning to fix things with you, you appeared in front of him in the lobby of his law firm, now working under him. seeing you every day drives him insane. it drives him mad how you’d ignore him when he greeted you or tried to start small talk, but would engage so easily with others. he deserved it.

it’s the regret and the desperate need to make it right that drives him now, a fire in his chest that makes him think—maybe, just maybe, he’d kneel before you if that’s what it takes to earn your forgiveness.

it started off as childhood friendship between you two. back then, he hadn’t known you well, but he always looked forward to those summer days, eager to see what new adventures you’d bring him on. when he decided to go back to study in fontaine, it was the best decision he had ever made. that’s where he got to truly know you. at first, it had started off as a bit of a rivalry, but before he even realized it, he found himself admiring your sharp wit and how easy it was to talk to you. you didn’t fall at his feet like everyone else did. you matched his banter with ease, and that drew him in.

he loved your late-night study sessions in the library, laughing with each other as the hours passed unnoticed. he enjoyed comforting you when you were stressed and teasing you for fun. he adored seeing your smile when he managed to make you laugh. he loved you.

how could he have thrown it all away?

now, it didn’t matter because when he saw you standing in front of him on your first day at the firm, he silently vowed to make it up to you, no matter what. but seeing you look at him with such displeasure now? it was eating at him. his thoughts drifted back to earlier, when he saw santallier embrace you, a touch he had longed to be the one to give. the jealousy was overwhelming. the thought of another man touching you, sharing the kind of intimacy the two of you once had—it was driving him insane.

he knows you’re upset with him, but the desire to prove that you were his and his alone was consuming him.

i love her, were the only words repeating in his head. without warning, he launches himself over the desk, catching your lips with his in a fiery, impassioned kiss, raw and filled with longing.

this caught you completely off guard. you had kissed him before, just a few days ago, but this was different. this wasn’t just a kiss—it was primal, full of unspoken desires and regrets. the anger you felt for him hadn’t disappeared, but somehow, in that moment, it didn’t matter. you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. your brain screamed at you to stop, to push him away, but your body betrayed you, pulling him closer. as though you both couldn’t be any nearer to each other, as though this moment was the only thing that truly mattered.

the taste of you on his lips is sweet, and your consent to his kiss only drives him wilder. he lifts you up by your waist and sets you onto his desk. your fingers tug at his tie, desperate to be closer to him. your arms wrap around his neck as he supports himself with his hands. with a growl, he moves down to shower your neck with hot, wet kisses. his lips reach your clavicle, and he reaches for the top button of your blouse. he grunts while lifting the article over your head, leaving you in just your bra and pencil skirt. fuck, he groans. without wasting any time, he showers your breasts with kisses, relishing in the soft moans of pleasure that escape from your mouth. as he pins you down on the desk, papers flying everywhere, you feel something poking at you, sending heat rushing to your pelvic region.

as neuvillette's hands explored your breasts and his face buried in between them, you grip onto his back, yearning to feel his bare skin. you tug at his shirt desperately, wanting it off, causing him to pause and glance up at you with a playful smirk.

"off?" he asks, teasingly. you respond with a light whimper, craving for his touch. "as you wish."

in a split second, he is now shirtless, revealing his chiseled physique. "hah," you breathe out, admiring his body. "kiss me, please."

without hesitation, he pins you down on the desk and captures your lips with his own. your head hits the hard wood but you don't care, too consumed by the passion of the moment. your tongues immediately entwine in a fiery dance as his hands travel down your body, eliciting waves of pleasure against your skin. in response, you run your hands over his bare chest, relishing in the warmth of his skin against yours. his hand slips under your skirt and travels up your thighs.

"i've been dying to take this skirt off you all day, moonflower," he whispers seductively.

you feel yourself blushing at his words. "neuvillette, i-" you can't find the right words to say, but deep down you know he's not entirely wrong. ever since your last kiss with him, you've been having inappropriate thoughts about him in the workplace.

his hands rest on your thighs as he asks, "can i?"

with pleading eyes, you nod and beg for his touch. following your approval, he pushes down your skirt, leaving you only in your undergarments. his eyes roam over you, taking in the sight of you in your white lace lingerie. you spread your legs out for him, laying on his work desk, and his thoughts become clouded with desire. he needs to taste you now.

neuvillette leans over you on the desk and gently kisses your forehead. "do you want me to touch you?" he asks once more. You eagerly nod, yearning for his hands on your dampness. and oh, it feels so good when he finally does touch you. his deep purple eyes lock onto yours as his fingers rub against the surface of your laced underwear.

"look at you, already soaking wet for me, darling."

your breaths quicken as he circles his fingers over you. by all the archons, he didn't even need to slip a finger inside to make you this wet. with every stroke, your back arches and you can feel yourself becoming lost in pleasure. his other hand finds its way to your breast, fondling with them as he watches you squirm beneath him. a slight smile forms on his lips as he takes in the beauty of your reactions. you looked like a goddess, with your fluttering eyes and parted lips. he wants you to know just how stunning you are.

as he kisses your lips, his hands slide down to remove your underwear and unclasp your bra, leaving you completely naked. he pauses for a moment to admire you. "you look beautiful, you know that?" his deep voice rumbles in your ear. you look at him with intense desire and whisper his name. he slowly kneels down between your legs, parting them as you anticipate the pleasure to come. suddenly, his tongue is on the parts of you that you didn't even know you wanted as much as this. a soft moan escapes your lips as neuvillette devours you with his mouth, making you feel divine. the lawyer buries his face deeper in you, skillfully pleasuring you until your toes curl with pleasure.

"so… beautiful," he grunts, intensifying your frenzy. as he picks up speed, you let go of any inhibitions and fully surrender to the sensations.

"you're such a good girl for me," he breathes out, admiring how you squirm under his touch.

"neuvi- i…" you see stars as his tongue continues its skilled movements in and out of your wetness, bringing you closer to climax.

"do you like that?" he asks, moving in a way that brings forth a warmth from the pit of your stomach and rises up into your chest.

"yes," you breathe, biting your lip in ecstasy. you can barely contain yourself now, overwhelmed by the pleasure he's giving you. and as you look down at him adoring every inch of your body and intimacy like it's the most perfect thing in the world, you reach your climax.

he watches as your voice echoes his name in pleasure, listening intently as you reach orgasm. he leans back, mesmerized by the way your breasts rise and fall with every heavy breath. your legs tremble slightly and your wetness drips onto his eager tongue. you shake as he pleasures you, paying close attention to every movement and meeting your gaze in mutual understanding. he wants to hold onto this moment forever.

neuvilette leans over you gently, whispering "i love you" as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face.

in that moment, all the longing and pain disappear. in this moment, you forgive him completely for the past and realize the depth of his regret. "i love you," you whisper back, gazing into his eyes.

with those words, something ignites between you both - a fiery passion fueled by years of separation and a desire to make up for lost time. he pulls you towards him, sitting up as his lips crash down on yours. the kiss is filled with raw passion, causing you to grind against him eagerly. you feel his hardness pressing against your stomach and wish for nothing more than to feel it without any barriers. neuvilette steps back to quickly remove his belt and undergarments, leaving him naked before you. your insides do a flip as you watch his hard cock spring up instantly. he was perfect for you in every way imaginable.

he playfully tilts his head at your expression and asks, "what is it?"

you quickly interject, "nothing. come here and kiss me." you grab his arms and pull him closer.

"i'll do more than that," he responds, wrapping your legs around his body. he positions himself in front of you with his erection in hand. "have you been intimate with someone before?" his voice catches, nervous for your answer. you nod yes, and his face briefly falters before becoming unreadable. "then we'll have lots of fun."

with careful intent, he slides into your wet pussy. the combination of precum and your wetness makes it an easier slide. you let out a slight gasp as he fills you up completely. this is the first time you've ever felt this full, and he truly is perfect for you. "ah~" you breathe out in pleasure.

"oh, good girl. look how easily you took me in," he praises as he looks down at where your bodies are joined. he starts to slowly thrust back and forth, not because he knows you're not used to this, but because he wants to savor every moment of taking you tonight and making you his forever. "do you see that?" he hums with self-approval in his voice. and you do see it - the way he expertly moves inside of you, gradually increasing in speed until your breasts are bouncing with each thrust. your arms wrap tightly around his neck as your hips hold onto his waist for support on top of his desk. "you feel so good," he purrs in your ear as he continues to pleasure you in every way possible.

watching him pleasure you while wearing nothing but your red frames drove him wild. your eye contact, heavy with desire, only added to his arousal as he pushed himself inside you. he couldn't get enough of the way your body fit perfectly against his, the way your breasts bounced with each thrust, and the sweat that glistened on both of your bodies. the only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fireplace and the skin-to-skin contact between the two of you. it was raw and intense, and he felt like he could stay in this moment forever.

but then, thoughts of your past intimacy experiences crept into his mind, fueling a sense of jealousy within him. he couldn't hold back any longer and crashed his lips onto yours in a display of urgency, causing you to let out an surprised "mm" sound.

"who else has fucked you like this?" he growled in your ear.

confused by his sudden inquiry, you responded with annoyance in your voice. “what?” you didn't care about your past partners or who you had been intimate with before. all that mattered in that moment was him and you.

neuvillette continued with his steady pace, pulling your hips closer to him for better access. "santallier?" he asked, increasing his intensity and hitting all your pleasure spots just right. you moaned in response, unable to form words as pleasure consumed you.

"hm? use your words," he taunted, noticing how much he was affecting you. he kept up with the same speed and pressure, knowing he had found just the right spot to drive you wild.

your back arches as you claw at his back, overcome with ecstasy. you know you're close to reaching your limit if he keeps going.

"he's been around you a lot lately. does he know you're not interested?" he asks, thrusting into you.

"hah~ i-i don't know," you manage to gasp out in response.

in one swift movement, he pulls out and positions you so that now you are bent over his desk, one leg up and your backside exposed to him. a wave of disappointment washes over you momentarily, wondering if the euphoria will continue in this new position. but those doubts are quickly replaced with pleasure as he enters you, hitting your g-spot almost immediately. this might just be your new favorite position - it's definitely going to be good.

he notices how much you enjoy this position as your back arches and you push yourself against him. "you naughty girl," he growls in your ear as he slaps your ass. he leans over your shoulder, playing with your breasts with one hand while using the other for support. "you don't know?" he asks, trailing kisses down your neck as he continues to thrust into you.

"no," you repeat, each thrust causing the desk to rock back and forth.

"does he know that i'm fucking you like this?" he demands, thrusting harder into you.

"n-no," you respond again, lost in the pleasure of the moment.

"does your boyfriend know how much you crave me? how you beg for me, bent over my desk like a good little girl?" you know that he's jealous and upset. neuvillette knows that you and santallier have nothing but a friendship going on. but yet, his words make your heart race as the sound of your bodies colliding fills the room. your moans and grunts mix together in a perfect harmony of pleasure. you can hardly contain yourself as you reach your climax, your vision beginning to blur. all that matters is showing neuvillette how good he makes you feel.

"am i still just a distraction to you?" you taunt him, moving your hips in circles on him. you know this hits a nerve, driving him crazy. he picks up his pace, his eyes narrowing with determination as if fucking away his regrets was possible. with every thrust, he vows to spend the rest of his life making it up to you until all of this becomes a distant memory. but for now, all he can do is fuck you harder and deeper, trying to make amends.

"i-i'm about to-" you manage to say before losing yourself completely in ecstasy. the sounds of his grunts and the force of his pelvis hitting against your body push you over the edge into pure bliss. he can barely contain himself either, consumed by the sight of your beautiful ass bouncing on top of him and knowing that he's the reason for your pleasure. as he feels himself nearing climax, you utter the words that release all inhibitions within him.

"cum inside me, neuvillette, please."

a switch flicks inside of him. just like that, he releases all of his load into you at the same time as you reach your peak on him; your legs shaking as a messy stream of white holds the two of you together. you both are panting, heart rates at maximum as your head collapses onto his desk in exhaustion. he leans over your bent body and kisses your head, leaving breathless kisses along your neck. slowly, he withdraws from you, a thin string of stickiness connecting the two of you until it breaks.

"come here," he says, picking you up effortlessly and holding you bridal style. you let out a yelp as he moves so suddenly, your sweaty bodies pressed against each other.

he carries you to a red velvet couch by the fire and sets you down gently. from where you lie, you watch as he walks away to get a soft blanket, admiring his form with a soft smile. he soon joins you on the couch, draping the warm blanket over your bodies while enjoying the heat from the fire. you look up at him and smile, and he returns the gesture with a soft smile before planting a delicate kiss on your forehead. a strand of hair falls in front of your eyes and he brushes it away.

you gaze into his deep purple eyes, filled with intense emotions. as he looks back into yours, with the reflection of the embers from the fireplace dancing within them, he can't help but think that you are the most beautiful person in all of teyvat - dare he say even in all of celestia.

"no, you're not a distraction to me," he whispers gently while planting kisses on your head between each word, causing you to giggle at the ticklish sensation. "let me make it up to you," he adds.

you eagerly accept his offer, feeling your heart flutter as you plant a kiss on his cheek, hopeful for the future between the two of you. "i love you," you whisper.

the smile on his face reflects that of fontaine's tranquil streams - serene yet ever-flowing. "i love you too, moonflower."

[r0-boat]

Pretty Prize

Giovanni x GN!reader

I just streamed a infinite fusion nuzlocke that I got FUCKING BODIED in well second times the charm next Monday. Fuck my stupid baka life.

Well another stream another drabble Hope you guys enjoy this one!

Cw: Pet play, Master/servant, dubcon, dark themes, cock warming, mentions of Pokémon death, a little bit of sucking cock. Free use.

"pet! Come here now."

You hear your master calling you from his office. You rise up from his bed and walk obediently. Your bare feet hit the tiles as you are forbidden to wear any shoes, and the only clothing you're allowed to wear is a long white flowy dress with nothing else with a black collar fastened around your neck and an unmistakable red R dangling from its leather.

When you open the door to his office, the meek look on your face makes him smile. "Coming immediately when I call you... Good... You know what I want." Giovanni purrs, leaning back in his chair and padding his lap, inviting you to set.

He takes in the sight of you slowly walking towards him. Once you were inches away, you knelt and unfastened his belt. Your master was already rock hard, you gave it a few pumps before putting it into your mouth.

"Good pet... So well trained... I like you better this way... Ngh-! Not the person you were before hm... Fuck-yes~! So troublesome and aah~! Meddling. "

Your eyebrows furrowed as you went. You always hated it when he brought up the past. You tried so hard to forget the last moments of your freedom when your beloved partner took its last breath.

Giovanni lets out of grow as fingers dig into your scalp pulling your hair and forcing your head back and off his dick. "Enough, I'm plenty ready... Give me what I demand of you!"

When he lets go, you whimper. You stand up and bend over for him with your hand. You guide him to your entrance before slowly sitting down, his big cock stretching you open as he enters you.

"Yes... That's it. This is where you truly belong... Sitting on the boss of Team Rocket's cock, helping him, and watching him do the very same work, You were so desperate to destroy."

Your eyes flutter close when you feel his fingers comb through your hair. Your walls squeeze around him as he pulls his chair in to continue his work one hand on the mouse and keyboard and the other roaming and groping your body.

From your chest, his hand brushed over your stomach, going between your legs but not before squeezing your sides. Your breath hitches as you clench.

"That's it squeeze me... What a perfect toy." His breath tickles your ear.

This is why he doesn't let you wear anything underneath the fragile silk he has you wear.

Easy Access.

When he forced you to join Team Rocket, your one and only job was to serve the boss in any way he wished, whenever and wherever.

Giovanni broke you down and rebuilt you into someone only for him—a loyal and obedient toy.

You have meddled in his plans for far too long. It was only right to take your body as a pretty prize for when he finally stopped you.

[tinybeetiny]

Aren't you embarrassed? Part 3: P.S

SMUT 18+ MDI

NonIdol!Toxic!Fratboy!SeonghwaxAfab!Reader

@yunhoscutie Here is part 3!!! I hope everyone enjoys this! Should I turn this into a whole series?

Taglist: @n1nme4r @e3ellie If you would like to be a part of the taglist please fill out this form

Smut

Cw: Explicit language, public fingering, shitty Hwa, poor Jongho :(

Previous Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

For weeks, you continued to come over to see Jongho, and Seonghwa felt his anger rise every time you did. He's never been dropped like this and he hated it. How could some goody-goody bookworm like you treat him like that? Get him so out of character? He knew every time you were coming over because Jongho would scramble to get his room clean and organized for you and Wooyoung would tease the older boy every single time. Just when the boys thought he couldn't get any moodier, he did. "I swear on Yunho's life. If you do not shut up right now I will put you in the ground" "Why my life?!"

At first, it started out as something to get over Seonghwa or at least that's what Jongho offered but the more you hung out with him the more you started to like him. Your hangouts had upgraded to little cafe dates or a small library date and today was no different. You wandered through the many bookshelves trying to find the specific book on cell fusion, hand already full of textbooks. "Hey." A voice whispered behind you making you jump and drop the books in your hand "Still as clumsy as ever I see" You say nothing as you reach down to pick your things up but Seonghwa beat you to it "Molecular Biology. I thought you were an econ major?" He asked turning your textbooks around in his hands. You stare up at him for a moment before reaching to snatch your books back but he annoyingly places the books out of your reach "Ah ah. Not so fast. I just wanna talk, then I'll give this back" He grinned "I have nothing to say to you" You respond, crossing your arms. "I know you miss me." His voice lowered as he took a step towards you causing you to take a step backward and your back met the bookshelf. "Seonghwa st-" "Shh" He shushes you with a finger against your lips "I know Jongho can't make you feel the way I do" His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder "You're right. He actually makes me feel like a person" You scoff pushing his hand off you "Oh please. You know he can't please you the way that I can. I know all your spots, everything that you like" his hands come back up but stops to rest on your hip.

His fingers play with the hem of your skirt as you try to keep yourself calm. "Seonghwa stop. We're in the middle of the library and I'm waiting for Jongho anyways" You tell him but he doesn't listen, it goes in one ear and out the other. His hand moves to your thigh giving it a nice squeeze and you let out an involuntary sigh "See you miss me, I know you do. Stop fighting it and let me make you feel good." Your breaths become heavy as his hand runs up your thigh to your pretty little purple lace panties and you close your eyes as his fingers run over your clothed clit. You don't even have to look at him to see the cocky look on his face "Always so wet for me" he groaned as fingers push aside your panties and you bite your lip trying to repress a moan when they finally meet your dripping folds.

“Hwa, stop we’re in the library. We shouldn’t be- oh fuuck” your words cut off when his finger slipped inside you “What was that? We shouldn’t be what? I can stop.” He removes his finger and you whine when he does “no no please” You look up at him with big teary eyes, your face flushed red, and you pull him down by his shirt, pressing your lips to his. He pulls your panties down, stuffing them in his pocket before shoving two fingers back into your sopping hole and you have to bite your lip to keep from yelling out. The squelch of your pussy was so loud that if someone was in the next aisle they would hear it very very clearly but did you care? Absolutely not. Not when Seonghwa was knuckle deep, filling up so euphorically with his long slender fingers “fuck I’ve missed this. Missed how wet you get for me” "Seonghwa please." His fingers curled perfectly and you felt yourself getting close.

Seonghwa stared at you so intensely it made your heart jump and subconsciously clenched around his fingers. You pant out heavy moans as he draws you closer and closer, very happy you chose a less busy time to come to the library. "M'gonna cum" Your head falls back onto the row of books behind you and your hand flies to his wrist, holding on for dear life "Cum for me baby, cum all over my fingers" he groans watching you bring your other hand to muffle your moans and he brings his thumb to your clit to help with the stimulation. Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you and he can feel you dripping down his palm. He removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth, groaning when he tastes you on them "Open up sweetheart" He sighs bringing his fingers to your lips and you obediently part them before he shoves them in. His cock jumps at the sight of you sucking your cum off his fingers and he can't help but pull you close, smashing his lips against yours. Your head was spinning and the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Seonghwa's soft tongue against your own.

"what the actual fuck" You push Seonghwa away and turn to see Jongho staring with a furious expression before he storms off "J-Jongho, wait" You race after him, legs a little wobbly from your orgasm. Seonghwa stood back with a shit-eating grin on his face, he knew that would not be the last time you cum on his fingers

Next Part

[nastylittleghouls]

Buzz me up

@jimothybarnes wanted my thoughts on this with Mountain and idek. He gets about 470 words of Mountain edging himself by being a little weird about buzz pollination? This adult needs adult supervision. I don't know what I'm doing

AO3 for the so inclined

No cw aside this not being entirely botanically accurate I guess. Not beta'ed.

Mountain made this necessity a whole little ritual for himself.

Born in a season where not enough bumblebees were awake yet to ensure a consistently sustainable harvest outside the greenhouse. An individual celebration of the bond he had been gifted with. 

The straps of his overall are already dangling by his legs, his long sleeve on the floor behind him, step by step moving down the rows surrounded by green and yellow, the vibrations of the vibe dusting some of it down his arm, sprinklings of various colors in the fuzzy hair, as the stimulated anthers release their pollen.

The sight of the tip shallowly touching the inside of the small delicate row of petals reminds him of the pictures Aether showed him during the afterglow last night. Surprisingly sharp shots of the head of Aether’s cock nudged inside his and Dew's barely prepped holes just so and he feels himself clench around nothing, then twitch inside his loose pant leg. And with it the first drop of pre sliding down his thigh. Mountain takes a deep breath, the scent of soil, plants and faint arousal filling his nose. He lowers his hand to prevent any accidental damage to the flowers and…. 

He resists.  

Resists the growing impulse to abandon his task for instant gratification. There’s something reverent in slowly losing the rest of his clothes along the way and baring himself as he helps his plants to future fruition and he won’t ruin it. 

The distance between each garment on the trail he leaves behind is proof of it. 

And today, Mountain allows his other hand to drift here and there, his large palm giving the length of his cock a couple of strokes, paying special attention to the head every time he carefully inserts the tip of the vibrator into the flower. The last row almost breaks him,  steadily dripping a trail of pre and sweat on the floor. He has to pause to squeeze the base to starve off his release and keep his hand raised to aid the task.

He’s trembling too hard at this point to do it one-handed. 

By the time the last flower is done, he’s panting and arching into the touch of his hands, ungracefully stumbling to his knees before his back finally hits the dirt; rubbing the vibrator, laden with pollen residue, along his hard cock. His bare toes curl and uncurl deep into the wet soil beneath him as he keeps whining into the flesh of his arm. Gasping in the scents surrounding him

Relishing in the feeling of the thick pollen and cum fusion, he uses it to finger himself open, writhing needy and desperate down against them. He blindly pats around for his discarded overall, pulls out his phone, barely managing to send a bee emoji to the group chat. 

Aether and Dewdrop will understand. 

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

I'm going to give you a prompt my brain gave me but that I haven't made any progress writing. My idea is that Adam from The Bright Sessions is Atypical and his ability is fusing with other people like the gems in Steven Universe. Because this requires some degree of physical, emotional, and cognitive synchronicity, he probably wouldn't discover it until one of the many moments he and Caleb almost kissed before they started dating. Then Adam has to deal with becoming a new person sometimes when he's with Caleb, figuring out who that person is and their name, whether Adam wants to tell his parents about this, how Wadsworth would react, and a slew of other issues. I imagine that Adam's fusion with Caleb would get to experience the world on the stakeouts. The College Tapes would also definitely happen differently, since I'm not sure Caleb could hide his pokemon evolution from Adam if they fused and Adam being Atypical himself deals with many of the problems that caused them to break up in the first place

Me, who's seen zero (0) episodes of Steven Universe, looking at this prompt: hmm... I don't really know what to do with this... but I bet I could get 750 words out of this concept somehow.

Me, 2000 words later:

No but for real, this prompt ended up bringing me SO much joy to write. Once I figured out the general idea I was going for, I really hit the ground running, and wrote the whole thing in just a couple hours! I really hope you enjoy what I came up with!

(and as always with prompts, if I didn't end up writing your idea exactly how you envisioned it, you are of course so allowed to write your own fic with the same idea! Or a continuation of my version! Or you can always request that I write my own continuation! Two cakes, etc!)

This takes place vaguely post-season four. CW for references to Safe House, kidnapping, depression, PTSD, etc. Canon-compliant angst :)

Send me prompts to help me finish my 2024 writing goal!

By this point in his life, Adam Hayes feels like he’s pretty much got a handle on how all the atypical stuff works. There are specifics that keep crawling out of the woodwork to shock him– Damien, for example, as Adam’s recent brush with kidnapping proved, as well as his Aunt Annabelle’s evil villain arc, which Adam is admittedly still getting used to– but the general gist of it all, he’s got down.

The gist being: there are people with superpowers. And there are people like Adam. Normal. Boring. Safe, until they’re not anymore.

He’s not worried about it. Not consciously, anyway. He trusts, for reasons he can’t even explain, that Damien really is gone for good, and that even if he weren’t, Caleb’s beating has officially moved him from the “superpower” category to the “boring” one, leaving him no more threatening than any other asshole white guy.

(He does not let himself think about the fact that Damien was as good as powerless when he hit Chloe with a lamp, or how six months later she’s still dealing with the effects of the resulting concussion he gave her. Adam will simply keep a can of pepper spray in his backpack and continue to convince himself that he will never let his guard down around Damien like Chloe did, should their paths ever cross again).

He has enough other things, better things, to focus on– his Yale application, and then finals, and then preparing to live away from home for the first time ever, and on top of all that, his boyfriend– that for six months, he manages to think about the safehouse incident as little as humanly possible (nightmares notwithstanding). And not once does it occur to him to make the connection between almost being kidnapped by a whackjob mind manipulator and something his mom said to him almost a year ago when he first got her to sit down and talk about atypicals with him: Sometimes abilities start to manifest after instances of trauma.

After all, making said connection would require Adam to admit (even just to himself) that he experienced a trauma, which he has no intention of doing because that would mean he’s even more fucked up now that he already was.

Besides. There are two kinds of people in the world. People like Caleb. And people like Adam. An atypical ability “starting to manifest” is just something that was never going to happen to him.

Until today.

He’s at Caleb’s house, which is always a little bit complicated because Caleb’s parents (not to mention his nosy little sister) are way more likely to be home and “interested in what you boys are up to” than Adam’s. They try not to complain about it, because it’s sort of a miracle that the Michaelses’ only reaction to Caleb’s endangerment at the safehouse was “no more therapy” and not “no more boyfriend,” and the last thing Adam wants to do is give them any reason to change their minds on that, but it is annoying. They’ve learned to be quiet.

Caleb’s sitting up against the headboard of his bed, facing the “just ajar enough to be plausibly called open” door, while Adam straddles his lap, poised purposefully on his knees to be able to roll off and into the desk chair placed strategically next to the bed at the slightest sign of someone approaching.

Like I said. They’ve got a system.

Adam usually enjoys kissing Caleb more than he enjoys just about anything, but he’s not feeling it today. Not even in a “his depression is bad so every sensation is muted and foggy, much less his libido” kind of way, but just like… he’s preoccupied by something.

Caleb must notice, because he breaks the kiss and takes Adam’s face in both his hands so he can look him in the eye. “Hey. You all right?”

Adam opens his mouth to lie, but if he tells Caleb he’s fine then they’ll go back to making out, and he’s not sure he actually wants to do that. So instead, he says, “What am I feeling right now?”

Caleb gets the little crease between his eyebrows that Adam loves and hates in equal measure that means he’s really focusing in on his empath ability. Adam knows him well enough by now to be able to track the turning gears behind his eyes– he can see the moment when Caleb separates his own feelings in his chest from Adam’s and starts to analyze them.

But then his frown deepens, and he says, “I… don’t… know.” His eyes meet Adam’s. “Purple. And like… stretchy. It’s not an Adam feeling I’ve ever felt before.”

Adam sits back in surprise, hands falling away from where they’d been looped around Caleb’s neck. “Wha– seriously? We’ve known each other over a year. I thought you’d have felt all the Adam feelings by now.”

“So did I,” Caleb says, frowning into the distance again. “It’s weird.” Adam’s stomach flips, just as Caleb adds, “Oh, shit, now you’re– sorry, I didn’t mean to make you, like. Feel bad. New feelings are probably super normal.”

Adam rolls his eyes, trying to brush away the guilt eating at him, and whatever he’d been feeling before– the purple, stretchy distraction– intensifies.

“So, uh… what is that feeling?” Caleb asks, rubbing absently at his chest, like Adam’s emotion is causing him some kind of physical discomfort, which does not help much on the “Adam not feeling like a burden” front.

“I don’t know,” he admits, climbing all the way off Caleb’s lap to sit cross-legged in front of him instead. His feet were starting to fall asleep, and his hands feel a little numb– he wrings them, trying to rub feeling back into his fingers.

“Is something on your mind?” Caleb asks, laying a comforting hand on Adam’s knee.

“No,” he starts to say, because there isn’t really except for the fact that he feels a little weird all of a sudden, cold like there’s a draft and a little unsteady, but somehow what comes out of his mouth is, “Damien.”

“What?” Caleb says, voice sharp and close in Adam’s ear in a way it wasn’t before, even though neither of them has moved. “You were thinking about Damien?”

“No!” Adam says, for real this time, and then winces, knowing Caleb can feel the untruth, and amends, “I mean, not– I guess, not consciously, just… I guess maybe I’m always thinking about him? In the back of my mind?”

The purple, stretchy feeling inside him– and damn Caleb’s stupid emotion color metaphors, but that is a good way to describe it– expands even further, pressing tight against his ribs like it’s trying to break out of him, and maybe Caleb can feel that too, because he takes Adam’s hands in both of his.

“I think, sometimes,” Adam continues, words flowing out of his mouth almost without his permission, “I just hate that he got away with it. Like, okay, he spent, what, four months? In a basement cell that Mark was trapped in for the better part of five years? Oh, so his only consequence was having to leave town and be normal like the rest of us? Like that’s so fucking bad? Chloe still gets headaches and you’ve got all this guilt to deal with and Damien just has to be normal?”

The more he talks, the more the purple feeling fills him up, and red hot anger right alongside it, and a distant tiny part of himself knows that he should calm down before he says or does something he’ll regret, and that he’s probably freaking Caleb the fuck out right now, but his vision is starting to white out around the edges, and the purple and red warring for dominance in his stomach are making him feel sick, and for a moment or two, the only thing Adam can focus on is the warm, rough sensation of Caleb’s hands in his his.

Adam blinks, and the world turns upside down.

Or, no, wait– not upside down. Backwards. He’s facing the door now– sitting where Caleb was just a second ago. His anger has dissipated, but the purple stretchy feeling is still there, if settled, somehow, like it’s filled him up enough that he can mostly ignore it.

But something’s still wrong.

Maybe it’s that he feels bigger now. Taller. He brings his hands in front of his face and they’re hands he’s never seen before– big, with thick fingers and skin a lighter shade of brown.

Maybe it’s that Caleb’s gone– nowhere to be seen, the room totally empty, the spot on the bed in front of him already growing cold– or that Adam is too.

Because he’s not… quite… Adam anymore. He’s not Caleb, either.

The thing that’s wrong is that he’s someone new.

He scrambles off the bed, stumbling a little on new big feet, and rushes over to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of Caleb’s bedroom door. He touches his face, and those big hands cup Caleb’s stubbled cheeks. He touches his head, and thick fingers tangle in Adam’s messy curls. He’s wearing Caleb’s jeans, tight around the waist, and Adam’s Black Keys t-shirt, hanging just above his belly button like it’s been cropped. He’s gotta be at least six and a half feet tall.

“Holy shit,” he breathes in two voices, and the purple thing inside him snaps.

Adam hits the floor with a shout, curling protectively around himself out of instinct. Next to him, there’s a twin cry and thud as Caleb is thrown to the ground with equal force. Adma pats himself down, feeling his skinny arms and pianist fingers, the shirt that fits and his hair on his own head.

“Holy shit,” he says again, voice high with panic but purely his.

“What the hell!” Caleb agrees, scrambling back away from him. Adam backs up against the opposite wall, giving Caleb as much space as he can without leaving the room– Caleb doesn’t need Adam’s alarm in his chest on top of his own.

Plus maybe Adam feels like something you shouldn’t get too close to at the moment.

“What was that?” Caleb gasps, staring at him with big, wide eyes.

Adam shakes his head. “I don’t know?”

“But that was– that was you, wasn’t it?” Caleb pats his chest, like he’s still trying to convince himself he’s real and solid– Adam knows the feeling. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know!”

Footsteps pound up the stairs, and Mrs. Michaels calls, “Caleb? Adam?” She raps perfunctorily twice on the half-open door before sticking her head in and sizing them up: Adam cowered against one wall, Caleb still on the floor and huddled up against the other, both of them looking disheveled and wild, like they’ve been up to who knows what. “I heard a thud, are you boys all right?”

Caleb looks from Adam to his mom, and hurriedly gets to his feet. “Yeah! Yeah, Mom, sorry, we’re– we’re fine.” He takes a calming breath, like he’s gotta prove it, and gives Adam a charged look. “Right, Adam? We’re okay?”

But Adma can’t imagine lying right now, not even just to get the adult out of the room so that he and Caleb can debrief in private. He feels wrong still, and monstrous, and so far from normal it hurts.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, and can’t help the first dark thought that springs to his mind:

Is this how Damien felt?

--

TBS tag list (lmk if you want to be added!)

@pandoradeloeste

@genericgirl420

@sizzlingjudgebanditpaper

@ziggy-st4dust

@flibbertigibbety-jibber-jabber

@friendlyfishboy

@bakugouuuwu

@alexacat57

@jaytheunique

@mercale

[lgbtransgirl]

CW: Plural Fusion

In the world of Warframe, if someone that's plural is turned into a cephalon do they juggle back and forth like Ordis and Ordan?

Do they just pop in and out with different names/voices/etc like switching?

Can each alter be turned into their own cephalon? (I know that would be impossible for some plural people especially those that are blurry and/or fractured)

Would the Orokin, the disgusting society they were, just force some type of final fusion?

[steviewashere]

Five Nights at Freddy's: Urgent Hires (Chapter 1/?)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: None (For Now) Characters: Robin Buckley, Steve Harrington, Original Character(s), FNaF Cast Pairing: Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Tags: Post Canon AU, Five Nights at Freddy's Fusion AU, Security Guard Steve Harrington, Security Guard Robin Buckley, Loose FNaF Lore, Humor & Hijinks, Light Horror (because I can't write scary shit to save my life), Comedy, Tags Subject to Change This is not gonna be a masterpiece in the slightest, but I'm having fun with my platonic stobin barbie dolls.

🍕🐻—————🍕🐻 He slams their front door closed with his foot, carrying what seems to be Robin’s entire bookshelf in one cardboard box. When he crosses the threshold to their living room, she’s sitting on the couch, flipping through the newspaper. If this wasn’t the last of their crap, he’d probably say something, but…he knows her, she’d purposefully give herself a bruised knee just to get out of the heavy lifting. The box lands with a thud on the carpet—definitely her books.

“Think our neighbors on the right are Mormons,” he says breathlessly, “their smiles don’t reach their eyes.”

Robin licks her index finger, ready to change the page. “Yeah, well, that’s what we get for moving to Utah. Better than the Reagan Jesus freaks back home,” she mutters.

His hands fly to his hips, head cocked in thought. “You think?”

“Mm…on second thought…I don’t”—she gasps, startling him—“oh, Steve, look!”

Rubbing a hand to his racing heart and stepping around the mountain of unpacked boxes, he sleazes to the couch, plopping down unceremoniously. He looks over her shoulder, down to her still wet index finger pointing at something on the page. “What’d you almost give me a heart attack over?”

“There’s a pizza place in town! And they’re hiring!” she crows.

Her pink polish chipped nail glistens as she taps the ad. Steve rears back at what he reads. “120 a week?! That’s less than minimum wage, dude!”

“But they’re urgently hiring! Plus, look, we’d get free dinner. You can’t tell me that pizza for dinner every night doesn’t sound like the best thing ever!”

“Uh, to you maybe, but we need to make a living, Rob.”

The glare he gets could burn him alive.

“Unless you’ve got a magical ‘now hiring’ ad in your back pocket, this is our only option. We got fired from Family Video after Vecna. We’re already bad Indiana reps around here.”

“Why do we have to represent the state of”—

“You’re gonna drive us over to the restaurant tomorrow and we’ll fill out applications in person. Maybe if they see us eager to apply, we’ll get the jobs right from under the other applicants’ feet.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Are you even gonna survive a midnight shift?”

“I’ll have a Pepsi. That’ll take the edge off.”

He sighs, knowing he’d do anything for this girl. But he scowls for his own benefit. “Fine,” Steve finally says, “but you’re not allowed to complain about how tired you are afterwards.”

She sticks out her hand, forcing him to shake on it. “Deal.”

——— There’s nobody eating at the restaurant when they go in. When he checks his watch, 12:35pm, it’s with the thought that it should be the rush hour. Nobody greets them at the customer service counter. And the corners of the walls are white with cobwebs. It looks like nobody’s been here in a decade.

Well, considering the paper ad read the words, “Not responsible for injury/dismemberment,” it really doesn’t bode well the success inside the establishment. Maybe he should’ve egged Robin into going to their local library and looking into some archives. Considering their history, they should’ve looked into the suspiciously urgent need the restaurant had. It’s possible they’re up against another Vecna thing.

Though, maybe he’s just being paranoid.

Could a family restaurant be as evil as that whole mess?

He tugs on Robin’s elbow, shooting her a quick glance. “Should we just…look around? See if somebody’s working the diner floor?”

“I don’t know…I called them before coming in. They should’ve been expecting us.”

“Maybe they’re attending to a lunch full of mimes? They’re quiet, yeah?”

“Steve, you know that sounds ridiculous, right?”

Nodding, he pulls away. “Yeah, I figured that the moment it left my mouth. But…c’mon, we should really find somebody. A manager or something.” He’s already stepping away from her without another word—she better follow.

When he rounds the nauseating checkered black and white corner, he’s face to face with the gaudiest, most unappealing sight. Party hats sit dusty on the surface of every table. Every table cloth spotted with painted on multi-colored confetti. Some miscellaneous posters on the wall, sequined stars dangling from the ceiling, and weird spikey-backed purple chairs. The colors all clash horrendously. There’s a few rundown arcade cabinets. One for something called ‘Princess Quest’, another being ‘Burger Bungle’ , and ‘Techno Warrior’—he recognizes none of them. However, the true attraction of this sad little place is behind him as he turns—

“Oh my fucking god!” he softly exclaims. His eyes widen, feet stumbling as he takes a step back, and a hand flutters out to stop Robin in her place. It’s clear when she’s finally looking, her breath halted in the back of her throat. “Are those…?”

“Animal robots? Yeah…yeah, Steve, I think they are.”

Steve swallows hard. His eyes rake each individual character up and down. There’s a brown bear—Freddy from the newspaper—he’s wearing a top hat, black bowtie, and holding a microphone, sporting a soft fuzzy belly plus two too big hands. A bunny with tall purple ears and a red bowtie, holding a matching red electric guitar, no eyebrows and big eyes. And a yellow thing, a bib that reads ‘Let’s Eat!!!’, it’s yellow mitt holding a smaller robot character, some pink frosted cupcake with unblinking, soulless eyes. He shudders. “Why are they so tall? And…and that yellow one is definitely looking at me, right?”

“Are these the…the animatronic characters they were talking about in the newspaper? I only recognize the bear.”

“You’d know better than me, Robs!”

Her hair swishes around, smacking him in the face as she shakes her head insistently. “I wish I didn’t.”

With no warning, something smacks the back of Steve’s left shoulder. He jumps, twirls around, fists guarding his face on the defense.

He lowers his hands immediately, however, when he’s met face to face with a tired looking teenager. A scruffy untamed goatee, acne up the wazoo, and a rumpled purple polo tucked into his pants. The kid looks bored as ever, his eyes tired and lips thin in a frown. His skin’s a sickly grey, though. Like he could use some sunlight. The name tag attached crooked to his shirt reads, Gabe.

“Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza,” Gabe drones, “you must be the applicants.”

Robin takes a step behind Steve, her hand placed gently on the small of his back as if to calm him. He notices there’s a legion of goosebumps on his arms, so he leans into her touch. “Um, yeah, yeah we are. Steven Harrington and Robin Buckley? I called the restaurant beforehand.” She has an air of professionalism to her that wasn’t there before. A complete tonal shift covering her previously timid shaking voice like oil on water. “We noticed there was nobody up front, so we thought we’d, uh, try and find somebody.”

Gabe hums, something deeply disinterested. He doesn’t want to be here either. “Yeah, we tried calling you guys with the number you provided, service error. You both got the job, though. Night security guard. First ones that applied.”

“Seriously? Didn’t think you guys were that desperate,” Steve mumbles.

He earns a swat to the center of his back, nearly stumbling with the impact.

“Don’t listen to him,” Robin states—she’d probably be glaring at him if it were appropriate right now. “We don’t have a phone in our new place yet, had to compromise with a payphone down the street. Sorry about that. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow night,” Gabe replies. “Just come in fifteen minutes to your shift. Play the training tapes in your office, each of ‘em give you the whole run down on this place. We’ve never had two people on duty before, but it’s probably for the best. Place gets kind of…riled up at night. So.” Steve and Robin simultaneously hum in understanding. The unison goes unnoticed. “I’ll send you off with your uniforms and the spare keys. When your shift ends tomorrow night, somebody will meet you outside the restaurant, just give the keys to them. End of your first week is Friday, the 12th. We’ve got a different guy who comes in on the weekends, but uh, we haven’t been able to reach him.”

“You…couldn’t reach him?” Steve asks.

“Didn’t leave the restaurant last night. Tried calling him, no response. Boss thinks he left through the fire exit, probably slumming around somewhere.”

He looks over his shoulder at the robots. The yellow one is still looking at him almost knowingly. It makes him shiver.

“And nobody’s concerned?” Robin then pipes up.

Gabe shrugs in Steve’s peripheral. “Why should we? Honestly, nobody lasts longer than a week here on the night shift. Sometimes people no-show. Sometimes people dodge our boss’s calls. It’s whatever.”

Whatever, Steve can’t help but bitterly echo in his head. Robin must be able to hear his brain or something, she shoots him a quick glance as if thinking the same thing. If somebody went missing in Hawkins, everybody would be concerned. While Gabe’s turned around, starting towards the employee only room off the stage, Robin mouths ‘Barb’ at him.

He shivers again.

“So what are these robots names?” Robin calls out.

Muffled in the employee room, Gabe shouts back, “Freddy Fazbear, the main attraction! There’s Bonnie the Bunny, master on guitar. And Chica the Chicken.”

Steve leans into Robin’s side, muttering under his breath, “Chicken? She looks like a duck. How’re you gonna have animals as your family restaurant’s mascots and not know what one of them is?”

Nodding, she matches his volume, “Maybe she’s a chick? They’re yellow.”

“Hm. Maybe. Her eyes…they kinda look aged, don’t you think? Like something’s…trapped behind them.”

“I think you’re just paranoid, Steve.”

“Maybe I’m right”—

He’s cut-off by Gabe thrusting their uniforms towards them. Purple shirts and yellow badges. It’s gonna be a bitch finding sneakers to match this. “We’ve got one more animatronic,” Gabe says offhandedly, throwing a thumb over his shoulder, “he’s the one in Pirate’s Cove, behind the purple starry curtains. His name’s Foxy. He’s a, uh, pirate fox. Eyepatch and everything.”

His gaze follows to where Gabe is loosely pointing, a curtained single stage in the corner of the dining room. There’s a wooden sign in front of it, black text reading, ‘Out of Order’. In the gap of the curtain, just barely, he can make out the silver shine of a pirate’s hook. The fox has yellow eyes, a single one gleaming in the sliver of light.

Yuck.

“Used to be a fan favorite with the kids,” Gabe continues, “he’s kinda…off, though. Twitches and breaks down too often. Shouldn’t be much of a problem, though.”

“Problem?” they ask in unison.

“Yeah, no issues with him while you’re working. Guy’s in deactivation mode. Won’t move a muscle.”

“Good…that’s…that’s good, right?” Robin says nervously, shooting another glance at Steve. He just nods at her.

“Right. Now!” Gabe claps his hands together, startling them again. “I’ve got some important maintenance work to get done. And since you two are not our maintenance guys, I’m gonna have to shoo you out. Boss gave me the orders. Nobody else allowed backstage.”

Before they can get another word in, they’re being ushered out the front doors. The lock is loud between the restaurant and the outside world. Open sign switched to closed. There’s one last bored look from Gabe, and then he turns around, retreating to the shadows from which he came.

“Robin,” Steve hedges, “what the hell have you gotten us into?”

Aiming for levity, she puts her hands in the air and tries, “Free pizza and drinks?”

“And nightmares, too!”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, looking up at the Freddy mascot on the restaurant’s sign, “and nightmares.”

Even through the wall, he swears that Chica character is still staring at him. Those wide, aged, pink eyes blazing through him. Eugh.

🍕🐻—————🍕🐻 If you want to be added to the taglist for this fic, just let me know! Also, like, don't expect me to iterate the FNaF lore in a way that makes sense. This is just me putting Steve and Robin in a situation.

Part Two to Come!

[kimnowls]

I don't have the time or talent to mod cassette beasts so here's my fake partner idea

(cw: decapitation imagery)

Name: Jenny

Pronouns: She/her

Jenny starts out already in Harbourtown, but her house is locked. If you go to the door, she yells at you to leave her alone, and that she won't come out without her green ribbon. (Green ribbon is a key item lying somewhere on the overworld). If you find it and slide it under the door, she finally opens up her house and gives you some resources for your trouble. You can see her wearing the ribbon around her neck.

After that, and if you've defeated at least a few Archangels, she has a quest the next time you visit her. First, she asks if you believe in curses ("Sure, why not?"/"They might as well exist."). Then she tells you, very hesitantly, that she herself is cursed. ("What kind of curse?"/"You don't look cursed.") She won't tell you about the curse, but asks for your help in breaking it. See, she's done some research about Archangels. Apparently, there's a so-called Archangel of Secrets somewhere. Surely such a being would know the secret of breaking curses, right? Of course, Archangels are really dangerous, which is why she's asking you for the escort, someone who's managed to beat some of them in battle. If you agree to her quest, she joins your party.

Eventually, you find the Archangel's lair. The Archangel is immediately interested in Jenny; it can sense that she has a really, REALLY juicy secret. Seeing this, Jenny asks the player if they can leave the room real quick. "DON'T BE SO RUDE. CASS WANTS TO KNOW TOO! THAT'S WHY THEY AGREED TO HELP YOU! ISN'T THAT RIGHT?" ("Not the ONLY reason..."/"Okay, you got me.") Jenny's feelings are hurt, but she doesn't have time to dwell on that: the Archangel yanks the green ribbon away from her, causing her head to fall off. Her head is disconnected from her body, but she's still alive, like a Dullahan.

So yeah, the twist you probably saw from a mile away is that Jenny is THE Jenny from the folktale of the Green Ribbon, specifically the Alvin Schwartz version.

(Illustrations by Dirk Zimmer, from "In a Dark, Dark Room".)

She's a fictional character, and as such, the Archangel taunts her that she isn't cursed: she's exactly as she was created to be. "THE ONLY 'CURE' I CAN GIVE YOU... IS AN ENDING." And then it attacks.

After the first turn in battle, Jenny is like, "You're still fighting by my side? Even after seeing...? I shouldn't have doubted you. I'll never hide from you again." Then bam, fusion, kick the angel's ass, happily ever after.

Once you're back at the cafe, she tells you that she's been like this since she was born, and her parents were rich enough to hide her from the world until she was old enough to understand the situation. She grew up instilled with the fear that she would be rejected (or worse) by the rest of humanity if they knew she was like that. She's relieved that she finally has someone outside her family to talk to about this stuff.

Also, she's the only party member (besides Barkley, ofc) that you can't date. You can flirt with her during the five heart event, but she turns you down on account of her boyfriend waiting at home.

Also, she likes sewing and knitting, and she gives you some new clothes as a result of the five heart event.

Idk how her ribbon got stolen in the first place, maybe a monster broke in and took it, whatever.

Also, if you leave her in the cafe with Viola, you can come back to them bonding about being fictional characters together.

[mythrilpencil]

This is something of a prequel/backstory scene for the story I’m working on, of which Rage Against the Void is a part of.

Word Count: 763

CW: guns, war allusions

Backup

———

Zenith led his unit through a jungle of rubble. This part of the city had already been evacuated months ago, and any remnants of what businesses used to thrive here had long since been shattered by the ongoing war.

“Wasn’t the SOS ping sent from somewhere in this sector?” one of the androids in Zenith’s unit—a bulky assault model named Hammer—asked as they propped up a fallen support beam for the rest of the unit to cross under. “Who’d really set up shop clear out here?”

“There’s still the fusion plant a few blocks down,” Zenith reminded them with a nod that direction, “Independents wanted to get it back up and running but riots started giving them trouble.”

Hammer huffed and shrugged a shoulder, their thick armor plates shuffling into place. “Still not a very viable location, if you ask me.”

Zenith tipped his head in a shrug as he looked around. “Could be worse,” he supposed, “Could be—”

A loud clatter of metal and concrete rubble interrupted him. He and Hammer spun around at full alert, sensors primed for any threat. But it was just the trainee.

Well, “trainee” was a strong word. The android currently sliding a small avalanche of debris, Edge, was more a supplement to the unit than anything. He was a new model, with a lithe frame that emulated the build of a young human adult. Despite his records only placing him at 5 years of age, his deep maroon armor had all the wear of a veterans’. And scrambling up the rubble wasn’t helping the wear and tear.

Zenith sighed to himself. He’d have to give the kid a talk about proper armor maintenance when they got back to base. “Edge!” he called out to him, “What are you doing?“

Edge spun his head around to look at Zenith, bright green eyes cutting through the night’s gloom. He blinked, then looked back up at the collapsed garage he was still attempting to scale without another word.

Zenith ordered, “Edge! Get down from there; we’re going this way,” and waved a hand towards the path Hammer was holding the way open to. 

“I’m picking something up over here,” Edge objected, finally pulling himself up over the lip of the nearest overhang. 

“Picking what up?” Zenith frowned. “Edge, if you’re detecting a signal, you’re supposed to let us know, remember?”

“It’s not super strong; might be nothing.”

“Whatever it is, tell us so we can back you up—”

“No I got this; you guys go on ahead,” Edge insisted, disappearing over the ledge, “I’ll catch up to you.”

Zenith sighed roughly, expression flattening, then glanced back at Hammer and the two others in his unit. Hammer, meeting his glance, rolled their eyes and set the support beam they’d been propping up down. Then they and the other two followed Zenith as he leapt up the rubble after Edge.

~~~

They caught up with the young android just in time. Edge had found his way into a pocket in the depths of a collapsed skyscraper. Plasma fire shot through the air. The kid had found his way into trouble.

Edge staggered back, surrounded by drones opening fire. To his credit, he dodged a good amount of their fire and returned with his own from his pistols. But stray plasma fire caught his feet and he tripped over a canister. 

Zenith charged in. He yanked Edge back by his shoulder and shoved his other arm forward. His energy shield shot out from his forearm just as a stray shot hit the canister.

The canister exploded, concentrated ether reacting with the air with the wrath of an angry blue sun. But Zenith’s shield held it all back.

Edge shouted and flinched. But then he opened his eyes, transfixed by the angry ether fighting against Zenith’s shield. 

“Wh—”

Zenith cut him off with a hand under his arm, pulling him to his feet. “And that’s why you always need backup,” he grunted. The concentrated ether wisps dissipated, and Zenith waved his free hand to signal at the others.

Edge blinked when Hammer and the other two made their charge. He readied his own pistols in response, but his eyes were still wide and inexperienced. “I—I thought you guys would have gone ahead—”

“I know you’re not used to working in a unit,” Zenith told him as he shrunk his shield, “But that’s not how things work in one. When you’re in a unit, you back each other up. No one goes alone. Got it?”

“I—”

Zenith met his eyes.

“Got it.”

———

For this week’s prompt courtesy of @flashfictionfridayofficial!

Tagging: @jacqueswriteblrlibrary

[stxneflxwers]

fragments of heaven – prelude.

summary. In a scary, mysterious, new universe, they find themself searching for even a little bit of purpose amidst the chaos. The past will haunt them, but the future will guide them, too.

a/n. hi this is nerve-wracking to post. lol. i'm so used to being ashamed of posting OC stuff that this is somehow still difficult even after years of doing it. ANYWAY ive been absolutely fixating on this for ages now – many rewrites later, i think i've found a happy spot! anywho, this is a crossover with my original story/world. i do plan to explain as much as i feasibly and reasonably can about my original story. hopefully it doesn't leave too many people in the dark, ofc. but also you're meant to see this from an HSR perspective anyway lol also, this is more or less co-written with one of my best friends, so her character(s) are featured here! also 2, the first scene in this prologue/chapter is kinda awkward cuz i didnt bother to fix it when i started rewriting,,, oops

characters. aventurine. original character(s).

cw. this is a universe crossover/fusion!!! canon x OC. slavery. implied character death. trauma. (more tags will be added as more chapters are posted)

prologue.

Kakavasha often heard humming throughout the small, dirty prisons lined with slaves like himself. He didn’t know where it was coming from, but it brought uncanny serendipity to his angry emotions for a little while every time. When the humming would eventually stop, the onslaught of vexed emotions and thoughts would return minutes later.

And then, he finally meets the person who hums one day by what feels like a stroke of luck, pure chance. He initially expected to never see the face the voice belongs to. The only visible eye of that person never left his mind – a bright, starry blue with a white pupil and ring in their iris. Their rusty red hair covers their other eye, like they hide it intentionally.

They deliver him his rations for the day, but the plate of food seems larger than usual. They put a finger up to their lips – he needs to stay quiet if he wants it. They slide the plate into his cell and offer him a soft, patient smile.

“I hope you enjoy it, I made it myself.” The fellow slave whispers to him, “Ah… What’s your name… Kakavasha?” They ask as they shut the barred door and straighten their legs as they rise.

“…Yeah.” He nods as he warily takes the plate of food before eating it with slow, small bites. “Oh, wow… This is…really good.” He whispers before shoving a larger portion into his mouth.

“I’m glad you like it.” They nod before hearing heavy footfalls nearby, “I have to go now – may we meet again one day.” They grin before quickly sneaking away, running on the tip of their feet.

Kakavasha watches them run away with deftness and grace, like a dancer. He finishes his food quickly, not wanting to be caught with a bigger, better portion than usual.

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter how many times the older slave gets their head beaten into the wall by the slavemaster. Les Esfacier is still standing, regardless of every whip, every cut, every kick and punch. It doesn’t matter how much crimson blood pours from their new wounds, they remain standing – all with a wicked, knowing smirk on their bruise-darkened lips.

“I hope you’re enjoying the show, No.35!” The slaver barks at Kakavasha, who remains firmly tied to a chair nearby. “Because No.8 hasn’t died from a single beating – yet. But I’m more than happy to change that…” He glances at the Avgin with a twisted grin before raising his whip to lash the older teen.

Les Esfacier jumps in before the leather can meet his vulnerable body, causing the whip to crack against their cheek.

“Les Esfacier—!” Kakavasha gasps, his heart dropping into the acidic remains of his gut as he watches another trail of blood form on his fellow slave’s face. With hardly any self-control left to spare, he starts sobbing, yet unable to tear his gaze away from the gruesome sight.

“Why are you still smirking, No.8? Are you getting off on this, huh?!” The slavemaster howls with laughter, his own preconceived notions are pure entertainment.

“I’m smirking because it’s funny how much you struggle to kill me.” Les Esfacier snarks.

“You…!” The slave owner growls before yanking out his pistol, aiming right at the smart-mouthed slave’s head.

“No—!” Kakavasha tries to lurch forward in his chair before he gasps when a warm, golden-white light covers his eyes.

“Shh… It’s okay, little guy, just listen to me, okay?” A soft yet lively voice whispers in his mind as the golden-white glow permeates his vision, it’s almost enough for him to relax. “My name is Summer – I’m Les Esfacier’s friend! I…I’m here to take care of you while they’re asleep! Y-Yeah…!” The feminine voice squeaks, clearly doing her best to reassure the slave.

“...Asleep? That’s the best lie you could come up with?” Kakavasha mentally retorts with a bitter sigh.

“Hey, I’m trying!” He can practically hear the pout in her voice, “But… They aren’t dead, either. They’re just…out of commission!”

“...Right.” He groans, “They…they had to have died… No one can survive a gunshot to the head like that…”

“You’d be surprised. Ma— Les Esfacier is a super-tank!”

“A…super-tank,” He echoes, “You’re weird, Summer… If that is your real name.”

“Hey! Stop doubting me! Please, just believe me when I say they’re fine… They really are just asleep!”

“Whatever…”

That night, the moon is in its first quarter – its silver glow peeks through the small, barred window above him, filling the cell he sits in. He curls up in the shadows, though, a dark place where he wishes he could hide for eternity. He didn’t want the moon to shed light on the guilt that eats away at him, all the way to the core.

But, perhaps now is the time for action, as the moon foretells.

“Hey, little guy… You asleep yet?”

It’s that voice again, and now there’s a body made of the same golden-white light accompanying it. The figure is petite and curvy. But he couldn’t bring himself to care about any of that – it’s the least of his problems right now, or so he tells himself.

“No,” He grumbles tiredly, “How could I be? After everything…”

“It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“How can you promise something as ridiculous as that?” He sighs, he couldn’t help it anymore. He needed such a deep, heavy breath that’s been pent up to finally leave his system. 

It wasn’t as relieving as he hoped it would be.

“Because I know! Trust me, okay?”

She’s so argumentative, he thinks, and at this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s truly gone off the rails.

“...Whatever.”

The figure sits down in the heart of the moon’s glow on the floor, and she opens her arms to him.

“Come here! Sit on my lap. It’ll be cold tonight, like always. I’ll keep you warm.”

“Are you kidding me?” He grumbles, but upon getting no response from her, he takes it as a sign that she’s serious about it. “...Fine.” But only this once, he thinks.

With her legs crossed, she holds onto him in her lap with tender grace that only a mother knows.

Kakavasha jolts awake in Summer’s arms as the desert sun slowly rises, but he’s quick to sigh and write off his own alarm as a small nightmare he can’t recall. He looks up at the spirit that held him all night, her eyes closed and her body still as a serene statue. He briefly wonders if this is what it’s really like to be cared for by a mother. However, he quickly shrugs this thought off – knowing that there’s no hope in finding solace in the deceased.

“Awake so early, huh?” Summer murmurs; her eyes flitting open, staring down at him with a soft smile.

“...Yeah,” He rolls out of her arms before stretching his arms high above his head and his legs straight out, “Thanks… For, uhm, last night.”

“No problem, little guy!” She chirps, watching him closely. Her energy and joy are damn near infectious, but he wouldn’t dare dream of giving himself the chance to feel the same pleasures. “Hey, I have a gift for you.” She informs casually, there are sparkles of excitement dancing in her dark eyes.

“...A gift?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck, “You really don’t have to—”

“Well, I don’t care if I don’t have to, because I want to.” She nods before a gold coin with a triquetra engraved in it manifests in her hand, “Here, catch!” She tosses it to him.

He catches it despite the fumbling, he looks down at it and blinks slowly, “A gold coin? Well, at least it doesn’t look like a damn Tanba…”

“My gramps made it! And it was the last one to ever be minted by him. I really want you to have it, little guy. Think of it as a parting gift and a reminder!”

“...A reminder of what?” He asks with deliberate slowness.

“That there’s always love and kindness looking for you and that it’ll find you eventually, sooner or later. So, don’t give up on those things, or ever give up on anything! Also…”

“Also…?”

“Should we ever meet again,” She clasps her hands around his own hand that holds the coin, “Show me the coin, and I’ll know exactly who you are.” She grins, “You can do this, m’kay?”

With that said, she vanishes. And he doesn’t know if it’ll be for now or forever. He clutches the coin tightly in his hand, her lingering warmth setting a fire ablaze in his heart – a unique determination.

[lizardperson]

hard-hitting confessions

[on ao3]

fandom: original work rating: t cw: typical loving siblings-violence, excessive usage of "dude" wc: 586 prompt: #fff288 loud lie, quiet truth for @flashfictionfridayofficial

---

"Dude, what's the matter with you today?" Aaron asked and flicked a guitar pick at his sister.

"Hey!" Mika complained, then got all serious and looked at him silently for a few moments. "I have to tell you something."

She had been struggling with this all day, it was really gnawing on her, and she just needed to get it out in the open now, finally.

"Oookay? What did you do?"

"Why would I have done something?!" she huffed, slightly offended.

"Well, you're being all weird, like… guilty. Like you're gonna confess any second now that you fucked my girlfriend or something."

"Dude, you don't even have a girlfriend?! Also, I might be a slut with no self-control, but I would never?!"

"Yeah, couldn't think of any better example right now," Aaron laughed, earning a punch in the arm. "Anyway, spill it."

Mika took a deep breath. "Okay, so, you know I love you and you're my family and all that."

"You sure you didn't fuck my nonexistent girlfriend?" he chuckled, ducking away from the next punch.

"Oh shut up and let me talk, this is hard enough as it is." She continued her little speech. "You know I really admire all your music skills and your songwriting and all that. Right?"

Aaron made a face, still clueless about where she was going with this. "Yes…?"

She took another deep breath before finally explaining what was bothering her. "Okay, so, your newest stuff? That weird jazz-electronic-fusion-whatever? I know I said it's cool, but…" She hesitated. "I really don't like it."

"Yeah, I know."

"And like, from a technical standpoint it's great as usual, but-" She frowned. "Wait, what do you mean, you know?!"

Aaron shrugged. "I know you don't care for it. That's cool."

"What? Why? How?!"

He started cracking up. "You serious? Dude, you do know you're the worst at hiding if you like something or not?"

"What? Since when?!"

"Since always? Besides, you called it 'interesting'," he explained making exaggerated air quotes, still laughing about her reaction.

"Because it is!"

"Well, at least you didn't say 'nice'."

Mika grimaced. "Dude, it makes me want to chew through my headphones. And I feel so bad about that."

"But why? It's not the first time you don't like one of my songs?"

"Yeah, but usually they only need a bit of tweaking to improve them, and usually I do like all your stuff, I just don't always love it," she explained. "But this? I wouldn't even know where to begin to salvage that, and I feel terrible about it, because you're so into that shit."

"This is what you've been beating yourself up about for days now?" Aaron asked baffled.

"Yeah!"

"Dude, you're such a fucking dumbass," he laughed.

Once again, Mika punched his arm, and this time he tried to defend himself, resulting in one of their usual friendly slap fights, until he managed to put her into a headlock.

"You done hitting me now?" he chuckled.

"Ugh, if you insist," she finally agreed.

Aaron let go of her and got serious again. "But for real, it's cool that you don't like it. In fact, I was pretty sure you wouldn't? I don't care," he shrugged. "Literally not taking it personally."

Mika frowned, still not entirely convinced. "Hm. Fine."

"I would take it personally if you'd fuck my nonexistent girlfriend though," he added with a grin.

"Oh, shut up," she laughed, barely restraining herself to honor their truce. She would save that one for later…