#even when you see nothing but death in your future there's still so much life to live

[madamescarlette]

It's important to me as my primary cr1 mutuals that you know that She's Always A Woman is THE Perc'ahlia song out there for me, the associations are so strong for me now (also I Know Places)

okokokokok so I FINALLY got a chance to sit down and listen and had a nice lil cry over how stupidly DEAR AND SWEET THIS SONG IS. She can lead you to love????? She is frequently kind / and she's suddenly cruel???? She'll bring out the best and the worst you can be?????

SCREAMS!!! What a perfect and gentle way to sum up all the contradictions of who Vex is!! And the steady constant way that Perce sees her. There is something so unbearably affectionate and loving about the tone of this song that's so!!!!! much to me and I'm so grateful. Your mind ma'am Grace darling!!!

I Know Places is also an equally sweet song for Vex's side, it gives me all the Briarwoods arc feelings! There is indeed something very very very lovely about someone who will take your hand and run away with you when you are going through the lowest patch of your life and finds a way for you to still be yourself through it all.

[bilal-salah0]

Before the war, after I left Gaza for Germany, I used to call my dad almost everday and tell him about my day. He would tell me how everyone else was doing and say that Salah,my little nephew, kept asking where I was.

Now, I hardly ever reach my parents or any of my siblings.I don't think Salah even remembers who I am any more as he struggles to carry water containers. I always find myself agonizing and wondering if I'll ever meet my family again, whether the newborns will see me one day and know that their uncle longs to hold them in his arms.

Every time I look at my dad's picture in our home, smiling and surrounded by his grandchildren, it breaks my heart into a million pieces. The house he dreamed the kids would grow up in was leveled to the ground in a split second. Nothing is left, not even both his shoe shops where he worked so hard to build a future for us all. My siblings are unable to work or finish their studies. There are no schools left for the children. There is no proper food, water, or sanitation, no life; only death and rubble all around.

When my brother sent me a photo of my dad lighting a fire, he still had that same old smile on his face. I was relieved to see him somewhat hopeful but it broke my heart even more. My father is the most resilient and hard-working man I've ever known. He always supported us in whatever we wanted to achieve. His only hope was that his grandkids would grow up safely and happily in their home. He never complained from work and taught us the true meaning of sacrifice and perseverance. Instead of living peacefully with his family, he, the kids, and everyone else have to endure life in a makeshift tent,God knows for how much longer, while their lives are constantly threatened by airstrikes, starvation, and disease. No child, elder, or adult should go through such hardships for this long.

As the injustice persists, we only find solace and hope because the free people of this world are still standing with us. Please continue to support us any way you can. I don't even have the words any more to say how grateful I am to everyone. You have already done so much for us but we need you now more than ever.

Please donate if you can and reblog as many times as possible.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Missed Hints

King Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, humor, pregnancy, suggestive themes, fade to black, established relationship

Word Count: 1.8k

With the pregnancy confirmed, you decide to drop little hints until Thorin makes the connections.

A/N: for @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”

Those two little words are enough to make time freeze. You are cold, a bit hesitant, and completely unbelieving of what you’re hearing.

“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, needing to know if you’ve heard her correctly.

The midwife, Lena, smiles broadly. “As sure as the sun rises in the morning. I’ve been doing this for close to thirty summers now. Rarely am I ever wrong.”

Lena’s assistant, Petal, matches Lena’s smile with one of her own. It is radiant and sunny, a stark difference from your sudden anxiousness. “This is wonderful news,” she exclaims. “King Thorin will be so pleased.”

“Indeed,” agrees Lena. “And so will the people when it’s formally announced.”

Both women sigh at the same time, but you are not nearly as excited as they are.

You and Thorin did try for a child many times in the beginning of your marriage. It was enthusiastic—and constant—but nothing ever came of it. While it bothered you, Thorin never seemed to care. He told you that all he wanted was you and that anything else was a bonus.

That is still true. Thorin loves you.

But Thorin is being pulled in a different direction. Erebor needs attention, and Thorin throws himself into service attempting to tackle every obstacle and difficulty on his own. Most nights, he comes to bed late—usually when you’re already asleep. When you wake, he is usually gone, off to take care of his abundant duties. They are piling up, becoming a burden. Thorin does too much, and while you admire him for his dedication, you miss him.

To know that you’re pregnant is a surprise. It’s not that you and Thorin haven’t been intimate, it’s just that it hasn’t been nearly as frequent as in the past. While Thorin is gone, you have your own duties and responsibilities. When the two of you do have quiet time together, intimacy is brief but passionate and almost always followed by the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“How far along?” you ask, trying to place exactly when it might have taken.

When your cycle never came, you didn’t think much of it. That happens sometimes. But then didn’t occur during the next expected timeframe. With its absence came irritability and random bouts of sudden crying you couldn’t explain. Certain foods smelt odd, and while you weren’t emptying the contents of your stomach, constant nausea made it difficult to complete daily tasks. You knew then that something was different. And now the midwife has confirmed it.

But even with an answer, you’re not sure how you feel.

“I’d place you at about ten weeks. Perhaps eleven,” answers Lena with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“That far?” you squeak, wincing immediately with how upset you sound.

Lena and Petal’s smiles start to diminish. Their enthusiasm melts away, replaced with furrowed brows and soft lines of concern.

“Is everything all right? You look a bit faint?” Lena places her hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply, though it sounds like you’re gasping for air. “Surprised is all.”

Their smiles return but it’s subdued.

This is supposed to be a happy occasion. A child means an heir, and it also gives the people hope for the future. Much of Erebor is still in pieces from Smaug’s habitation. That doesn’t even begin to include all the damage and death from the battle. Dale, which was once abandoned and forgotten, is starting to see life again as well. The races of Men are returning to it, hoping to rekindle its long-extinguished flame.

A royal child is a symbol of hope. It’s a moment of celebration for everyone.

“I think a bit of rest for the remainder of the day will do you some good,” says Lena softly. “We will prepare some ointments that you can use to relieve any aches or pains. Bloating is likely, and as the body makes room for the little one, you’ll have some discomfort.” Lena taps her bottom lip and then turns to Petal. “We’ll need to prepare some liquid supplements to take with meals.”

“Of course,” nods Petal. She begins packing up their supplies.

Lena squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “I’ll come check on you in a few days. Bring a few things with me. We’ll talk more then, preferably with the father present.”

“Yes,” you reply, absently rubbing your belly. “That would be best.”

The two women bow and depart quickly, leaving you alone in the royal bedchambers. The room is quiet and your breathing sounds too loud in such a large space. With hands clasped, you twist them over and over again in agitation, needing to move but unsure of how to quell the anxiousness. It’s stubborn like the deep roots of a tree that refuse to give up the dirt.

How are you to tell Thorin? How do you approach this when you rarely see him. It’s just one more thing to burden him with. Perhaps, if you dropped a few hints? Covertly toss the pregnancy in his direction and see if he picks it up?

You know deep in your gut that you shouldn’t worry over this. Thorin will be happy. He will be.

You spend the rest of the day as Lena instructs. Reclining, resting, and reading. Thorin is supposed to return tonight for evening meal. Whenever he promises an early arrival, Thorin means it. Rarely does he make promises he cannot keep.

As dinner is brought in, and the table is set, Thorin walks through the door. There is a bit of soot on his cheek like he’s been in the mines, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. When he notices you, he beams, and there is so much love there that you simply want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“My love,” he says, moving toward you swiftly. The embrace nearly sweeps you off your feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead and draws back.

“You’re filthy,” you laugh, looking him over. Thorin has been in the mines.

Thorin shrugs sheepishly. “I had to help dig. Structural issues.”

“Wash your hands at least,” you playfully tease.

“Not interested in eating a bit of dirt?” he asks with a laugh.

“Go,” you giggle, pushing away from him.

Thorin disappears and you take a seat at the table. He reappears a few minutes later, face and hands clean. The clothes he wore before are also gone, replaced with simple, fresh attire. He takes a seat next to you, gaze darting over the spread.

“I’m starving,” you begin because it’s true even though you’ve been consistently snacking all day. “It’s like I’m eating for two.”

First hint dropped.

Thorin laughs, and the sound is sweet like honey cake. “I promise, love. You couldn’t eat for me. My appetite is insatiable.” When Thorin says insatiable, he pointedly glances at you with a heated stare.

You perfectly understand his meaning.

You attempt a different angle. “I’ve also been having the oddest cravings,” you say, starting to load your plate.

“What do you mean?” asks Thorin before he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.

“Different foods. Things I’d never eat together otherwise.” It is common knowledge that pregnant women will often crave highly specific foods and food combinations.

But Thorin doesn’t appear to pick up on the hint. He frowns, then shrugs, continuing to eat without making a comment.

Sighing, you pick up one the freshly made rolls. “I think these buns need a bit more time in the oven.” You stare hard at Thorin, mentally sending message after message. “What do you think?”

Thorin glances up at you then down at his own plate that has five of them. “I think they’re perfect but if you’d like them more done, I’ll let the kitchen know in the morning.”

“Thorin,” you say flatly.

“Yes, my love?” His head slightly tilts, and his gaze becomes pointed. He’s starting to pick up on your agitation. You don’t mean to be cross, but you were hoping that he’d figure it out so you wouldn’t have to tell him outright.

Setting the roll down on your plate, you promptly divert the conversation to a different hint. “We’ve never talked about where we’d put the nursery.”

Thorin’s brow rises toward his hairline. “I didn’t think you wanted to discuss that until we crossed that hurdle?”

Does he hear himself? Does he understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth?

“You’re right, Thorin. I didn’t want to discuss it until we needed to.” You repeat his words back to him, slightly leaning toward him as you speak to emphasize the point.

Still, it brushes right over his head.

“Some of the advisory council members have brought up financial concerns. Rebuilding Erebor is important but the needs of the people are pressing. Food. Proper housing.” Thorin begins slicing into the chunk of roast on his plate.

Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.

Licking your lips, you ignore Thorin’s change in conversation. “I did receive a few inquiries about baby clothes. Offers to knit a few items,” you shrug.

“That’s kind of them,” says Thorin slowly. “But why—” he pauses, “you’re not—"

Thorin’s features suddenly shift, becoming almost unreadable. His jovial expression is gone, replaced with a stern consideration.

Are you going to have to shout it at the top of your lungs?

Thorin’s lips part. Promptly shuts. Opens again. “Are you…” he begins but does not finish.

You start to nod, urging him on.

Finally, like light igniting in the dark, Thorin’s face transforms into one of shock, then pure joy.

“Truly?”

“Found out just this morning.”

Thorin abruptly stands, pushing himself and his chair away from the table. He is moving toward you, grasping your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss your fingers.

“Why not say anything?” he asks.

“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”

Thorin momentarily frowns before his mouth turns up into a soft smile. “Clever.”

“You’ve been busy and I was unsure of how to tell you.”

Thorin’s thumbs rub little circles over your knuckles. “You can always tell me anything. Whatever is happening. Whatever is on your mind. I wish to hear it.” He kisses the tops of your hands. “Especially something like this.”

“Are you happy?” you ask, voice cracking at the end.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Thorin pulls you up from your chair, his large, muscled arm sliding behind your waist. He drags you to him, his eyelids lowering seductively, all gentleness leaving him to be replaced with desire.

“Are you up for a bit of celebrating?” he asks.

“What kind of celebrating?”

“The kind that landed us here.”

“Thorin,” you gasp, lightly slapping his chest. He snatches your wrist, kisses the pulse point there.

“The food can wait,” and his voice ends on a soft growl.

“Thorin,” you repeat, this time with a rasp to your tone.

He seizes it, draws you even closer. “The food can wait?”

You nod. “It can wait.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[divinesolas]

The hour of the wolf

summary: You make an offer for an old friend. You offer up anything to make sure his life is spared. What the wolf wants shocks you more than anything.

Cregan Stark x Beesbury!Reader

w.c: 3k

c.w: SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD; the hour of the wolf, mutual pining, soft? cregan, SMUT !, oral (male and fem), minor fingering (fem), face sitting, dirty talk, lord kink, hairy cregan, p in v, minor bearded cregan, breeding kink, minorly proofread

a.n: literally just a reimagining of the black aly and cregan scene from the books, i hate that fact that they rlly might cut black aly from the show let me kms.

perm cregan taglist (open!)

The room is far too hot. The glares of the men in the room far too intense. Words unspoken louder than anything. You had been sitting in this room for hours now, the arguing the anger seemingly never ending. You understand him. A stark never does forget his oaths that much has become very clear to you.

The fur covered man turns his back to the group after some harsh words leave his lips. You decide enough is enough and turn to the other men in the room. “Leave us.” Oscar and benjicot give each other nervous looks before turning back to you. “y/n…” You place a hand on Oscar's shoulder and squeeze it, “I have this, trust me.” He hesitates for a few moments before he nods and with the help of benjicot clears out the council room leaving you alone with the wolf of the north.

His back is still turned to you, staring at the window with a glare in his eyes. “My lord-” “I have done all that you all have asked. I have agreed to not storm on the green castles, i have given my men, i have been merciful to those who should have been marked to death i will not relent on this.” He had finally begun to face you, his face angry. You can see the stress of the last days weighting down on his face, a noticeable stubble from not being able to shave, bags under his eyes, he looked exhausted and you felt awful

Corlys Velaryon. once a man who you would have considered a good friend turned turncloak. The new king had pardoned his crimes along with the rest of you except for cregan, so stuck in his justice it will not stop until he has his head. Thought he had pardoned corlys, when you had went to the king to see to cregan being stopped, not wishing to fight one of the only men he trusted he did nothing to fight the northern leaving you all to try to persuade him yourselves.

You understood his anger. Having vowed himself to the queen and the late prince and both now dead due to the greens. “i’m afraid i cannot relent on this as well my lord.” You knew corlys did what he had to. maybe you would have not done the same in his place but it did not matter to you. Cregan huffs, pushing off the table he was leaning on to walk past you. “then there is nothing for us to speak of.”

You do not try to grab him as he walks past as much as you wish to. you only knew the lord stark for a year now but he had become a good friend to you and you like to think you were one to him as well. it took him awhile to open up to you, the northern not interested in speaking to most and was flat out rude to most but you persevered and was rewarded by earning the favor of the stark, leading him to seek out your council.

You felt more for the stark. More that was beyond friendship. you were a minor lady from minor house, the war and the growing tensions and battles with the hightowers leaving you even worse for wares and he was probably the most powerful man in the realm right now as well as a recent widow. He would want nothing to do with you if it were not for you insistence and you’re sure after this is all said and done if he does not agree to be the kings hand permanently this will be the last time you ever hear from the man.

Yet you are desperate. you so badly don’t want him to do this. corlys’ life more valuable than many realize. “what can i offer you?”

You voice cracks as you speak, whipping around to see his retreating form paused at your words but he does not turn around. you take a deep breath as you take the steps towards him. every step you take he steps back. “grant me this one thing and i shall never ask another thing from you ever again. If you do i shall have sonnets and songs written of you, tales of your great strength and wisdom. Grant this one wish and i will do anything you desire.”

His back hits the wall and he pears down at you with a tilted head as you stand firmly in front of him. not closely enough to be touching but close enough you can smell him, woodsmoke musk of his skin. He’s quiet but the look in his eyes shows Hes thinking about your words. You begin to grow a bit nervous when a light smile creeps up on his face. “I shall grant you your wish.”

“and what in return?”

“you.”

You stumble back while cregan remains rooted where he is, watching you with delight. “you misspeak.” “i do not.” you shake your head furiously. he cannot truly mean that as much as your skin crawls and your heart pounds you cannot accept his words. “If you are looking for a wife i am more than happy to help you find one.” “i am not looking for a wife. i want you.”

You pace around the room, tugging at the collar of your black and yellow dress. The room suddenly having grown hot and you dress uncomfortable. “There are many lovely ladies,” “im sure there are,” “The war has left many without a husband as awful as it is to speak. i would be more than happy help set you up with a couple meetings with them.” “is one of them with you? i will attend that one.”

You turn to him and almost wish you could curse at him and his pleased face. “my lord please.” his face drops and he grabs your hand tugging you into him. His hand softly coming to your face, the obvious look of affection in his eyes makes your stomach churn. “a hand for a head. give me your hand and i will do as you say. i will do as you say for the rest of my life.”

You take a couple deep breaths in disbelief, he wanted you. “A hand for a head. i will give you as you ask.” He leans in closer to you, you almost feel as though he is going to kiss you and you close your eyes in anticipation but he pauses right as your lips are about to touch and you hear him chuckle lightly. “You want me as well.” It is not a question but despite that you nod and his lips are pressed against yours. You can feel him hum and smile against your lips. He is an animal, hungerly eating at your lips like he is a starved man, as if he had been waiting for this for far too long.

You try your best to meet him all the same but he completely consumes you and you can do nothing but submit to him. When you pull apart you both stare at one another with lust in your eyes. So when you lightly step back he stares at your curiously until you sink down onto your knees and his breathing stops. “What do you think you’re doing?” You trace your hands along his thighs as you peer up at him. “doing my best to please you my lord.” he groans in delight and licks his lips. “will you allow me to my lord.” “if you do not put me in your mouth right now i will push you down and fuck you on the floor like a whore.” You wish his words did not affect you like they did, you can feel how soaked you are, you might as well be dripping onto your feet.

He allows you to grab at his pants and watches as you pull them down exposing them fully. He is huge. How in the hells were you even going to put this thing in your mouth? You can see the hair that trails up towards his stomach, the veins that line up and down him pulse with need while he lightly drips out some precum. As if driven by pure lust you reach out and lick at the drops that spill out of him, sucking around his tip to see if you can get anymore. You must be doing something right because he groans at your actions, grabbing the back of your head as you continue to push him further into your mouth. “fuck you feel so fucking good.” You whine lightly at his praise as begin to rub yourself onto the heel of your foot. When you moan around him he pushes you greedily further into him. “you feeling good too? such a greedy girl.”

You have no real clue what you’re doing but cregan helps you every step of the way, and when you put him fully in your mouth, your nose is buried in his hair. His hand on the back of your head pulling you closer and further until you get a good rhythm yourself and he lets you do as you please. “so fucking good for me fuck.” You can tell he’s close to cracking, his grip on your head grows tighter and his panting gets heavier, his words of praise turn into slurs of mumbles of nothing. He tries to pull you off not wanting to overwhelm you, “its too much.” But you keep firm and hes flowing into your mouth, you almost choke but pull yourself off of him and swallow down his salty seed.

You almost look up at him to try and see what his reaction was but you instead yelp as you’re pulled up and thrown over his shoulder. “what are you doing?!” he pulls up his pants and readjusts himself before he walks out of the room with you still over his shoulder. people stare as you walk past but nobody dares to question the hand so they all continue about their business. you even see oscar on your way who shoots you a bewildered look but you just throw your hands up in confusion and embarrassment.

You realize he is taking you to his room. He shuts the door with his foot and tosses you onto the bed. He strips himself of his furs and clothes where he’s standing bare in front of you. He truly was a man and you gulped. Greedily admiring his hairy body as he strode towards you with the utmost confidence. “If you do not want this you will tell.” You nod, “With your words.” You shiver, “yes..” hes pleased but gives you a look. “yes,,,?” you purse your lips before answering him, “yes my lord.”

He kisses you and leans on top of you until you’re laying on your back. You feel his fingers trailing up your leg and push past your underwear to push two fingers inside of you. You grip onto his shoulder and gasp as he begins to work his fingers in and out of you. “you’re dripping down my fingers, look at you pretty girl.” you shudder against him as he continues to work at you. He suddenly pulls away and you whine but he kisses your complaints away. “sit on my face.” Your brows furrow together in confusion, “what?” He chuckles, his hair tickling your face and shoulders. “just do as i say.”

Despite your confusion you nod, trusting your future husband who rolls the two of you over and you’re suddenly on top of him. He pulls every string and pushes away every piece of fabric under you sit just as bare as he is. You almost fold your arms to cover yourself but his hands grab yours as he continues to admire you with heart eyes. “you are the most beautiful lady i have ever seen.” Your face burns as you turn your head away from him. “sweet talker.” “I mean every word.”

He lays all the way back and it suddenly becomes abundantly clear what it means and you are alarmed. “You will suffocate.” He laughs and shakes his head as he continues to try and pull you up to his face. “a real man would not, trust me.” “this cannot be right.” “it will be good i promise. trust me. i want to.” Despite your doubts and worries you allow yourself to hover over his face lightly, his beard scratches at your face. you hear him sigh as he kisses your thigh, “I said sit.” He suddenly pulls you down and you’re fully sitting down on his face and he begins to lap at you.

You were not the most innocent women, having touched yourself a fair share of times but this was a completely different experience. His tongue laps at you eagerly, drinking up every drop while his hands knead your sides. You grip onto his hair as you as, your eyes closed and you throw your head back in pleasure. You keel over when his hands move you to grind on top of his face, his nose rubbing against your bud and your hips eagerly begin to move to try to get more and more friction. with every call of his name he hums and groans into you sending shockwaves down your spine.

You can do nothing to stop yourself from releasing all over his face. you mumble apologies but he simply eagerly licks up every drop before suddenly flipping you over and hovering over you. his face gleams with the shine of your essence. “ive been wanting to do that for too fucking long.” you turn away as your face heats, he turns your head back towards him and pecks you on the lips. “I hope you know i am being truthful, my words do not stem from purely desire. i love you.” Your breathe escapes you and your hands come up to cup his face, “my lord…” “cregan.” a smile plays on your face, “cregan, i have loved you since the moment i met you.” His face softens at your words, “even when i was an ass?” “especially when you were an ass.” He shakes his head in humor before he presses his lips against yours once again.

His hardness his your thigh and you moan. “i dont wish to force you.” “I want you to cregan. take me.” He wraps your legs around his hips as he aligns himself up to you, “if it hurts too much tell me.” you nod and your heart continues to pound in anticipation. It does hurt, it hurts like hell as his hard cock pushes its way past your walls, you find yourself biting his shoulder and he groans at your actions. When he bottoms out he pauses, allowing you enough time to adjust to him. Its hard to, when he is so big and you can feel every vein and the way he throbs against you. He pecks kisses around your face and down your neck to distract you, pouring his love into every peck.

“You can move.” “you sure?” it does not hurt as much anymore, sure there is a light sting but surely that will only add to the pleasure. “yes please fuck me cregan.” He lets out a noise one would only consider to be a growl, “you want me to fuck you? ill fucking fuck you.” His pace is quick but not too rough, its enough to have your toes curling with every thrust. He’s mumbling into your ear, words of praise but you can barely make sense of it as you begin to see stars. Your hands scratch down his back and he howls as you bite his shoulder. “fuck wanna see you full, with my kid.” you moan with pleasure at his words and nod your head eagerly, “yes yes yes i want that so bad please please.”

“You want my babes? for me to fuck you full and round? for you to carry my pups?” you nod eagerly against his shoulder as you begin to chant his name like its the only word you know and he calls out your name just the same. You can feel your stomach burning, “cregan im gonna im,” he shushes you as he only begins to move faster, one of his hands coming down to play with your bud. “cum fuck do it. wanna feel it.” He makes no moves to stop even as you burst around him, if anything he seems more motivated as the sounds of your skin slapping together grow louder. His thrusts your sloppy and his hips move more eagerly until you feel yourself being filled with his hot seed, pumping you full.

You two attempt to catch your breaths, you wipe his sweaty stuck hair away from his face as he grins at you. The moment suddenly ruined when loud banging hits his door and the two of you freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes. “Lord stark!” you recognize the voice as one of the squires and you watch as cregans face falls with annoyance. “what?” his voice is clearly angry as he spits at the door, seemingly having no intention of pulling out of you. “one of the lord has requested an audience-” “i am not available for the rest of the day.” “but my lord-” “leave me be.”

You can sense a pause from outside the room before the footsteps suddenly begin to fade away leaving the two of you alone once more. You open your mouth to speak but he sudden pulls out and spins you over quickly shoving himself back inside of you. there will be time to talk later it seems and when a maid walks in later that evening cregan makes no attempt to explain why the room smells as it does and why the windows are foggy. but everyone knows, the lord stark is not one for quiet women.

[vxnuslogy]

— lost to time ft. sae itoshi

— warnings: angst, character death, slight ooc?

— author's note: a reupload of my favorite work on sae while i finish editing the next 2 chapters of my hazbin series. enjoy!

— first recording

“hi sae! i heard from rin that you’ll be leaving for spain. i’m really sorry i couldn’t come to see you off, i’ve been busy studying, you know, for exams and stuff. but that’s beside the point! i wish you all the best sae! do your best and when you come back home, you better be the world’s best striker yeah? don’t worry, everything will pass by quickly so don’t miss me too much ok?”

sae hated planes. he hated them quite a lot. in was a constant reminder of that time when he was only 14, leaving home to go to spain to live out his dreams only for it to be crushed 4 years later. sae hated the airport, it was always so busy and so stuffy and so cramped. he hated the feeling of being surrounded by unfamiliar strangers, hated the feeling of people brushing up against him even if they didn’t really mean it. sae hated winter. it was the season he severed his bond with his precious little brother after all. it was the season he turned his back on him and it was the season he had wished to never relive again.

-

— second recording

“hey hey guess who’s sending you another voice message? it’s me obviously, why didn’t you tell me you were back already?! if you did i would’ve picked you up from the airport!

……

is something the matter sae? you haven’t picked up any of your parents’ calls and their really worried about you. you can always talk to me remember? i’ll always be here to listen, ok? don’t bottle everything up, it’ll do more bad than good. well, i have to go now. talk with your parents every once in a while will you? ever since you left for spain you’ve pretty much cut off all contact, even with me. that’s all, good night sae.”

sae didn’t really like flowers. he thought they were a hassle. plants that require specific needs and if not met, they’ll wilt. sae was never fond of them but here he was, standing in front of the counter of a local flower shop as the elderly shopkeeper wrapped a bouquet – filled with carnations, gardenias, lilies, roses, and chrysanthemums. 

everything passes.

— college; third recordings

“i got into my dream college sae! can you believe that! honestly, i was really nervous when i took the entrance exams, but thankfully i studied real hard and managed to pass! i’ll be moving into the dorms soon. i’m gonna miss home. oh and rin! i heard he got into a soccer program recently, isn’t that nice! he’s following your footsteps in becoming the best striker in the world. i know, i know, you aren’t a striker anymore but it’s still nice to know that you’re still into soccer at least. by the way, when will you come back home? i kind of miss you, you know. i never got to see you off and when you did come back i was out of town and really busy. what about we plan a meetup or something in the near future? you know, make up for the times we lost? oh, i have to go now! my parents are helping me move in to my dorm. catch you later sae!”

sae didn’t really like coming home. the house he grew up in for the first 14 years of his life felt too foreign to be called home anymore. his parents felt like distant strangers that he just met a couple weeks ago – they felt more like acquaintances than his mother and father. the photos framed around his home felt like ancient relics from thousands of years ago, he didn’t recognize them. sae didn’t recognize himself. 

maybe he spent too much time in spain to the point where it felt more like home. how ironic, he began to realize. he had flown back to japan to escape from his hell that was spain but here he was, in his home, in the bedroom he used to sleep in for endless nights, wanting to go back to the place that left his heart hollow.

“there’s nothing else i could do.” he tried to convince himself as he sat down on his childhood bed, the bouquet of flowers at his side. he could only sigh and let himself fall back into the bed of his long gone home. “everything passes.”

“hey hey hey it’s me again! how have you been sae? i’d like to think that i’ve adjusted pretty well in college. made a few new friends and met some old ones. honestly, i almost didn’t recognize them! i mean, do you remember makoto from middle school. he was a such a problem child back then and now look at him! he’s a scholar now! i guess everyone just starts to become more mature after hitting 18, who knows. thank you again, for the gift. i was definitely shocked when my roommate told me i had a package from you. i can’t believe you still remember that i wanted ‘no longer human’! thank you, i’ll be sure to treasure it. well, that’s all for today. call you some other time sae!”

everything passes.

-

— drunk recordings; the words i wish i could’ve told you sooner

“how do you work this again? ah got it! hehe, hi again sae! i’m at a party right now, man maybe you were right, i do have shit alcohol tolerance. but it’s fine. don’t worry, i’m already on my way home and the driver isn’t some creepy dude that might kill me.

……

you know, i like you very much but i don’t think you’ll believe me. i know i jokingly said that we should marry each other if we aren’t dating someone if we hit our 30s, but i kinda wanna marry you even if we aren’t 30 yet. is that weird? i really miss you. please come home.”

……

“hello? god that was so embarrassing… sorry, could you just forget about what i said in the last recording? um just, gosh i don’t even know. denying it won’t really help right haha… it’s in the past now so don’t mull over too much ok? please, just disregard that last recording. i’m really sorry, it was just me being drunk.”

sae did not in fact disregard that recording. in fact, sometimes in the dead of night he’d think about it and wonder, if he had replied to that specific recording would things have ended differently? 

sae didn’t like deep and evoking questions about ‘what if’s’, he finds them annoying most of the time. and yet here he was now entertaining the idea. bouquet in hand as he casually walked around the neighborhood that the both of you had grew up in. the same twists and turns, same houses, same playground, same everything.

yet the silence was too loud, even for him.

everything passes.

-

— graduation recordings

“well, i think it’s safe to say i survived. i graduated sae, are you proud? man i still can’t believe i was a few point from getting the valedictorian spot but oh well. alls well that ends well i suppose. i heard you won your recent match congratulations mr best midfielder! kinda wish i was there to see it, but don’t worry! in your next match i’ll definitely save up enough money and buy those tickets to spain and your match one day! just you wait, i’ll be the screaming my lungs out and support you, i’m still your number one fan after all!”

sae had some feelings of dissatisfaction when you did not in fact get those tickets to spain and his match. maybe it was his wishful thinking but he really did wish you were there. but he knew it was impossible. 

he remembered the feeling of anger and frustration running through his veins, cursing the heavens above because he felt the need to show the gods his emotions. sae hated thinking about you in that moment. he hated how he felt like he was in a new version of hell whenever you just happened to cross his mind. sae hated you very much.

everything passes.

-

— recordings from 2 years ago

“i’m sorry. i know you should’ve heard it from me but i guess my family beat me to it haha. to be perfectly honest with you sae, i had no plans of telling you. i’m sorry. its just, the thought of breaking the news to you. how could i ever do that to you? i’m sorry. god i’m so sorry sae.”

……

“hey. i received the gift you sent me. you didn’t have to , you know. now i kinda feel bad about having you go on break in the middle of soccer season because of me. but still, thank you. i appreciated you being here, with me. it was a refreshing feeling, talking to you again and just hanging out. work has been really stuffy and felt like i was being caged but you came. you suddenly appeared and suddenly everything was alright again. i know we only said goodbye a couple minutes ago but, i miss you already. sorry. this sounds really weird doesn’t it? anyways, thank you again for the gift. i’ll be sure to wear it everyday. that’s all, have a good night sae.”

……

“hey. sorry for calling at such an odd time. i just. i just felt a little lonely. i sound so stupid i’m sorry. good night sae.”

……

“makoto dropped by today. god he was as annoying as ever but he really cheered me up. he managed to confess to this girl he’s pining over since sophomore year. i’m happy for him. but it really got me thinking about us. i know i told you to forget about that one recording because i was drunk but now that i look back on it, i wasn’t really honest. to you and myself. i know this may be the worst timing to confess but yeah, i like you very much. since primary school, as cliche as it may sound i think it all started when you stood up for me from those bullies. now that i think about, i practically glued myself to your side ever since that day didn’t i? i’m glad you didn’t really mind that. i remember always using homework as an excuse to always have you hang out with me even though i completely understood the lesson. man, where did i get the confidence to do that stuff? but i guess those times are lost in the sands of the past i guess. oh right, sorry, i forgot you didn’t really like those type of stuff. getting all deep and whatnot. well that’s all, i’m getting pretty tired already so i’ll head to bed. good night sae.”

everything passes.

-

— present

“hi. thank you by the way. i don’t know, i just don’t think i’ve ever said that you recently. so, thank you. its a bit funny isn’t it? i would almost always talk your ear off every recording but this time, i can’t even find the words to say. my parents came over, talked to them a bit. rin visited as well. he’s gotten a lot taller than i last saw him, he’s probably taller than you now!

……

sae, thank you. for everything. i’m glad we stayed in touch. i’m glad we stayed as friends.  thank you for making my days seem just a tad bit brighter, though sometimes i wonder what it would be like if we were, you know, dating. wonder what the difference would be. i mean we’d still talk to each other right? maybe holding hands and kisses but that’s pretty much it right? but thinking about it is useless right now. maybe in an alternate universe were actually married and adopted a cat like how we used to talk about.”

“you know, before this very moment. i accepted my fate already. i was content, i was doing fine but now. sae, i don’t want to die.”

“please remember me ok? and i’ll be sure to remember you. i’ll see you again, sae.”

“nii-chan..”

sae could only put his phone back in his pocket. his younger brother standing a good distance away from him. he could only imagine how rin looked like right now. was he pitying him, grieving with him? he’ll never know because he will never turn to look at him. not when your right in front of him.

how many times had he played all your recordings for the past 2 years? maybe a little over a 100 times? maybe close to 200 now?

sae removed all those thoughts as he placed the bouquet on the ground, the wind seemed to answer to his call – you seemed to answer to his call. despite all the pain, all the misery, all the bitter waves of grief that flooded his being whenever he played your recordings, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. he didn’t want to forget what you sounded like. your voice reminded him too much of home.

“happy birthday you idiot.” he said to you, keeping his hands in his pockets, watching the leaves of the flowers in the bouquet sway with the wind. two pieces of paper underneath it threatened to be blown away. “you said you wanted to come visit me and watch my match, well now you can.” two pieces of paper, one a plane ticket to spain the other a ticket to his upcoming match two weeks from now. “you better come watch me alright?” he could only bitterly smile. 

“you’re 30 now,” he whispered, before getting on one knee. placing a velvet box in front of your gravestone. “you should’ve waited for me, you idiot.” sae could only mutter those words to no one in particular. it was as if the world had stopped for a moment, the wind had stopped howling, the sun was nowhere to be seen. he could only see you. “i wanted to marry you too, y’know.”

sae could remember every occurrence where he would sit at his balcony in spain every night after your passing. phone to his ear, listening to all your recordings. but you’ll never know how he replies to them, every single one of them with his own. 

“i told the stars about you and what we could’ve had.” he chuckled, “you’re by far the hardest lesson i had to learn.”

standing up from his kneeling position, he gave you one last look before walking away. rin followed suit, but not before placing something at your grave. a pink book that you had loved till the very end. 

sae hated planes, but he flew back to japan every year. sae didn’t really like flowers, but every year he’d get you a pretty bouquet. sae didn’t like coming home but if it meant getting to visit you, he’d come back over and over again. sae didn’t like reading or any deep and evoking questions but he always humored you whenever you asked him.

sae hated all those things but they reminded him too much of you to let them go. 

and just like your favorite author, when osamu dazai asked to die, he simplu agreed; but just before his death, he suddenly felt obsession with life.

everything passes. just like how you’ll eventually get lost in the sands of time.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[aphroditelovesu]

[🖤] - ''I don't want to force you to be mine, but I will if I have to.’’ + 💔] - ‘’You can't leave me. You will not leave me.’’ For Rhaenyra Drabble after her wife (reader) who while normally happy in their marriage starts to get tired and starts talking back to her after Rhaenyra basically imprisons the reader because she was paranoid about reader cheating on her?

[🖤] - ''I don't want to force you to be mine, but I will if I have to.’’

[💔] - ‘’You can't leave me. You will not leave me.’’

❝ 🐉 — lady l: this ended up becoming more than a drabble but I got carried away... I hope you like it, anon, and forgive me for any mistakes! Good reading! ❤️

❝tw: accusation of betrayal, mention of death, mourning, imprisonment and angst.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!rhaenyra targaryen x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,143.

You felt like a damn prisoner and maybe you really were.

Rhaenyra has become increasingly unstable and possessive over you and she has practically imprisoned you in her room, with only a few servants having access to you.

The reason for all this? She thought you were cheating on her, which was completely ridiculous. You weren't cheating on her and it never crossed your mind to do so.

You valued your life and loved Rhaenyra too much to even think about having a lover. You love her, don't you? You were sure you did it but after she locked you in, you weren't so sure anymore.

''I don't want to force you to be mine, but I will if have to.'' Her words still echoed in your mind and you only realized their weight when she finally lost her head after you spoke against her. The memories of that night were painful and you could still feel Rhaenyra's touch on your skin like fire.

Trapped in that golden cage, you stared at the richly decorated walls of her room, feeling increasingly suffocated. It was a luxury that became a prison, and every exquisite detail now seemed a cruel reminder of her situation.

The days passed slowly, with the routine of servants coming and going, bringing meals and clean clothes. They never exchanged more than a few words with you, and their expressions were always neutral. You wondered if they knew about your suspicions or if they simply followed orders blindly without question.

Rhaenyra visited you often, but your conversations were tense. You could see the paranoia in her eyes, a dark shadow that seemed to grow with each encounter. She asked questions, sometimes calmly and sometimes desperately, trying to get a confession out of you that wasn't there. Each denial from you seemed to fuel even more suspicion in her.

During these visits, you tried to calm her fears, reaffirming your love and fidelity, but your words seemed to lose strength with each repetition. Uncertainty grew inside you, not only about your feelings for her, but also about the future of this relationship that previously seemed so solid.

There were moments of silence, where you just looked at each other, lost in your own thoughts. At those times, you wondered what had happened to the woman you loved, the one who was strong, confident and fair. Now, she was a shadow of her former self, consumed by an irrational fear that was destroying her and you along with it.

You knew that Lucerys' death and the start of the war had affected her even more and you understood. You really did and you couldn't blame you for that. Although you didn't have children of your own, you loved hers as if they were your own and you were also grieving the loss of Luke but nothing justified Rhaenyra's accusations and her actions towards you. You knew it all came from her fear of losing you but that didn't make it any less painful.

The loss of Lucerys was a devastating blow to everyone. Rhaenyra has never been the same since that day. You clearly remembered the moment the news arrived. Her scream of pain still echoed in your mind, and you had felt a deep sadness as you watched the woman you loved fall apart. You tried to be as supportive as possible, to be by her side in every moment of pain, but it was as if an invisible barrier had risen between you.

Rhaenyra had become increasingly vigilant and suspicious. At first, you thought it was just grief manifesting itself in unexpected ways, but as time passed, her obsession grew. She began to question every one of your actions, every word spoken and even the moments of silence. At first, you responded with patience, believing that she would eventually get over it. However, her accusations became more frequent and fierce, culminating in your forced imprisonment.

You tried to justify her behavior to yourself. The coming war, the loss of her son, the constant pressure of claiming the throne and keeping the family together... It was all a crushing burden. And yet, in your most lucid moments, you knew you didn't deserve to be treated this way. Your love and loyalty were never in question. Rhaenyra's fear of losing someone else close to her was understandable, but it could not be a reason to imprison.

When Rhaenyra came to visit you, you decided you had had enough. You needed to make her see reason.

She entered the room, as always, with an expression full of distrust and pain. Her eyes, once so full of life, were now opaque, marked by sadness and fear. She approached you, her steps heavy and her gaze fixed on your eyes, as if she was looking for some confirmation of her fears. And when she noticed something in your gaze, perhaps the determination to get out of this situation, her face became furious and you could see her lips trembling.

''Rhaenyra, I never wanted to leave you. I never wanted to hurt you.'' You said, desperation evident in every word.

You took a deep breath, feeling the pain of the situation that was becoming increasingly untenable. Rhaenyra was mired in her own insecurities, and you knew you needed to break that cycle of fear and distrust. ''Rhaenyra, I love you. You need trust me. We are losing something precious in all of this.''

She remained silent, her eyes fixed on yours, as if she was trying to find something in your gaze that could ease her pain. There was a heavy silence, full of unspoken emotions, promises and fears.

You continued, your voice firmer, trying to reach the woman you loved. ''I'm not cheating on you. I will not leave you. We need to find a way to get through this together, before we completely destroy ourselves.''

The minutes passed, and the silence between you was deafening. Rhaenyra seemed to be fighting her own demons, insecurity and fear intertwining in her mind. You knew it was a crucial moment, an opportunity to salvage what was left of your relationship.

Finally, her voice breaking, she whispered, ''You can't leave me. You will not leave me.''

Your heart sank at her words. Rhaenyra was in shambles, and you knew you needed to act carefully, with love and patience. In a calm, low voice, you spoke, ''I am here, Rhaenyra. Let's find a way out of this together. I promise.''

There was a small spark of hope in her eyes, a spark that maybe, just maybe, could be the basis for rebuilding what had been lost. You approached her, reaching out your hand, trying to reach that piece of hope that still shined amidst the darkness.

Perhaps you could bring reason back to Rhaenyra.

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part VI

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

Simon Riley is, like any other man who has been in the military for long enough and seen the horrors of war, a man who struggles. Struggles with feelings, actions, words, nightmares. The constant reminder that his career—the very same thing that made him grow a pair and go from a scared little boy to a proper lad—was what ultimately cut his family’s life short, weighed heavy on his shoulders, holding him down like Atlas holding the sky. 

Despite how much he tried to hide his own feelings from both you and himself, that icy gaze that seemed to be focused on nothing for hours and the lingering silence, along with the tired smiles he forced himself to give you no matter how awful his nightmares were the night before made it clear things were only getting worse.

Whatever was out there was oftentimes merciful enough to give him good dreams every once in a while, his psyche drowned in a sea of what the future could have been. A future with his family, a future with you. No matter how difficult things got in the black, buzzing mess that was his head, he saw his daughter and you like a beacon, a Star of Bethlehem during those dark, cold nights. 

The sound of stirring bed sheets is what originally wakes you up, the smell of tobacco and gunpowder that always linger on Simon’s body overwhelms your senses the longer you’re awake, slowly coming back to your senses. A groan, and more shifting from your left. 

“Simon.” Your voice is soft and even, hands feeling around the bed sheets until you find his shaking body. In the past, Simon used to sleep on the couch, refusing to go back to his apartment just so he could spend more time with you and your daughter, yet after Johnny’s death, the pain and trauma was always clear in his eyes, ending up with you offering to let him sleep in the same bed. 

Simon’s body feels extremely warm, a thin layer of sweat covering his burly frame, seeping through his clothes and into your fingers as you shake him harder, the room dimly lit with the bright moonlight peering from the window. You can see his features scrunching up, his hands balled into fists, the veins in his neck and forehead becoming more prominent as he relives what is likely yet another traumatic moment in his life. 

“Simon.” You repeat with more urgency this time, your body shifting closer to his in order to shake him firmly, watching as his eyes flew open, dilated pupils looking around the room before meeting your gaze, a mask of deception quickly taking over his visage as you see him force himself to appear more relaxed despite the fast-drumming of his pulse you can still feel beneath your fingers, his chest rising and falling, nostrils flaring as he forces himself to take a deep breath.

“Did I wake you up?” Despite how awful his nightmares were, Simon’s priority was always you. His kindness isn’t just fake sympathy, it’s the real thing. 

“No, I was reading something.” A little white lie that at the very least eased his concerns. Your hand squeezes the tense mass of muscle on his shoulder with such gentleness that he wasn’t used to, not after a year of being alone after breaking up with you. 

The corners of his lips tug up into a tight-lipped, tired smile, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly, trying to hold it together for your sake. His eyes examine yours for any hints of disgust, any hints that you may have seen just how disgusting he could be during those nightmares, his mind still fragmented thanks to Roba’s torture, never seeming to heal no matter how many years go by. 

Your fingers work overtime on trying to ease the knots formed on his muscles from the strain it takes to hold it together when you’re looking at him with so much trust and concern, not an ounce of disgust in you despite how ashamed he feels. His eyes momentarily drift away from you, focusing on the baby monitor, the tiny screen displaying your sleeping daughter, the living image of innocence, serving as a soothing balm for his broken soul. 

“Bad dream?” How lucky he is, that even crushed under the weight of looming grief and enough trauma to last him several lifetimes, he has someone to care about him, to care for him. His exhausted eyes leave the baby monitor, staring up at the ceiling as he finally allows himself the chance to take in your tender touch, the genuine kindness showing through your soft massage and concern, no matter how much of a bastard he was for leaving you. 

“Yeah.” You know better than to press him about it, too familiar with him to know if he wants to talk about his issues, he will. You lean closer to him, your head now resting on his pillow and your arm draped over his stomach, your body moving on nothing but pure muscle memory from four years of dating him. 

From this short distance, you’re able to admire the man that Simon Riley truly is. His short brown hair, the thin, pale scars adorning his visage, and the wrinkles that are starting to become more prominent as he ages, war and stress making him appear older than he actually is, yet looking as handsome as ever. His rough, calloused hand goes up to hold yours, fingers intertwining with the same muscle memory your body performed. 

It has been months since Simon came back into your life, the knowledge of the fact that he now has a daughter always made him stick around, not wanting to miss a single moment from the tiny bundle of joy that seems to adore him, a brave little girl who was as spunky as her mother, and as stubborn as her father. 

“‘Bout Roba, again.” He finally admits after seconds of silence. Manuel Roba, a name you’re unfortunately familiar with. The same man who tortured Simon and his mates for months on end, allowing him to escape and to feel a sense of false security, giving him the chance to have a proper family for once with his father out of the picture, just to rip everything that held him together from his hands. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” His head shakes, signaling a no. The pads of your fingers run over his bruised knuckles in a calming fashion, tracing tiny, random patterns before his free arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest now that he’s laying on his side. There’s hesitation in his actions, yet his soul is filled with relief the moment you let go of his hand, just to circle his waist with one of your arms. 

“‘M sorry.” He’s not even sure what he’s apologizing for. There’s way too many things he needs to atone for, and he will be as patient as they come. 

“I’m sorry for leavin’. I was scared, didn’t want to mess you up.” He knows his absence did the opposite, and the idea of you giving birth without him present always shattered his soul. If only he had known about your pregnancy, he wouldn’t have broken up with you, never would have left. 

His chapped lips plant a comforting lip on your forehead, his warm hands running up and down your back, looking to soothe you as he can hear your breath hitch, salty tears already rimming your eyes. Your face is buried against his chest, lightly feeling his fast-beating heart as he holds you even closer, his eyes fluttering shut at finally having you in his arms again. 

“I missed you.” The shakiness in your voice breaks his heart even further, his soul being ripped apart by his own selfish, awful decisions. 

“I missed you too, sweet girl.” He manages to whisper out despite the way he’s getting choked up, his arms circling your form even more when your shoulders begin to shake. Warm, salty tears bleed through his clothes as he holds you as close as possible, squeezing your frame even tighter before he’s back to rubbing your back up and down, looking into spreading the warmth emanating from his large frame. 

“So fuckin’ much.” Another gentle kiss is planted on your forehead, holding you for as long as you need— for as long as he needs, too. You both lose track of time, simply caressing and giving each other much needed comfort, bringing you back to the ways you comforted each other back when you were dating after an awful day, all the crying and warmth coming from his body eventually exhausting you, idly playing with the fabric of his black shirt. 

“Can I…” There’s clear doubt in his words, and despite the fact that his exhaustion matches yours, there’s one last thing he wants to do. You lift your head, brown eyes meeting your gaze. You could drown in those eyes— in the way they always seem so loving and kind, so gentle despite how brutal you know he can be as a soldier… and yet that’s Ghost, not Simon, you remind yourself. 

His hand comes up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, ultimately pushing himself to cup your cheek, his thumb lightly rubbing your soft, warm skin, still moistened by tears. You get the message almost instantly, yet admiring Simon when he looks so unsure of himself steals your attention for once. 

A small nod of affirmation meets his words, and Simon doesn’t waste any time, leaning down until his forehead rests against yours for a few seconds before his lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss, the hand on your cheek caressing your skin gently, his eyes fluttering shut.

[PREVIOUS]

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[uvobreakmylegs]

Interim

Uvogin x reader

Warnings: mentions of captivity, abusive relationships, abuse, violence, blood, kidnapping, mentions of death

Word count: 9k

2:09 AM

A familiar nightmare wrenched you out of your sleep, one that left your heart pounding and your limbs shaking as you instantly reached for the table lamp, blindly scrambling at the lamp's base before you moved your hand upward to find the light switch. You needed the light on. You needed to be able to see clearly. You needed to know that you were alone – that there wasn't a large figure standing at the end of your bed watching you, waiting for you to become aware of his presence before he snatched you up.

You needed to know that you were the only one in your little apartment.

The light came on and you looked all about the bedroom.

And……

Nothing.

There was no sign of anyone being in there with you. The few pieces of furniture and personal items you owned were in the same places they had been when you went to bed the previous night, and with the exception of your work shirt that hung off the back of a chair, nothing in the room was in any sort of disarray. Nothing torn up or destroyed, no clothes that had been roughly shoved into your aged backpack that hung off the hook on the bedroom door.

And when you looked to the foot of the bed, you didn't see anyone standing before you.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief as you fell back onto your mattress.

Like the other times, it was only a nightmare. It wasn't real, it was only your deepest fears coming out from your subconscious, bringing forward the fears that you tried your best to keep at the back of your head every day. A possibility for your future that you were desperate to avoid.

But despite how often you'd experienced that particular nightmare, that only did so much to calm your rapid heartbeat. After all, he could still find you. Even though you had run so far and done so much to cover your tracks so that following you would be a near-impossible feat, no matter what you did, the fact remained that Uvogin could find you.

With how long you had been away from him, you felt pretty secure that you hadn't slipped up anywhere when you left; if there had been any clue you left behind, any images of you on a security camera that he or one of his friends would be able to see, then he would've gotten you by now. The fact that months had gone by and you didn't see any sign of your former captor had you feeling secure that you had done well when you got away from him.

But he could still find you.

Uvogin liked to travel around when he wasn't with the troupe, usually in search of strong opponents or ways to increase his already astounding physical strength. It was always possible that he might come to the town where you now lived for training purposes. Or maybe he would come for a different reason; maybe he'd come just to see what a remote town in the middle of a frozen wasteland looked like.

Either way, he could always find you. And no matter how much you assured yourself that the chances were slim, the fact that those chances still existed would never allow you to feel completely at ease.

There could always be a morning where your nightmare became a reality.

That thought made you shudder, and you pulled the blanket back up around your shoulders as you curled beneath it, not bothering to turn off the light. You'd need to go into work in four hours, but there was no way you were getting back to sleep before then. At least savor the warmth of your soft blankets before you need to go out into the cold, you told yourself.

You also told yourself not to think about Uvogin while you did that.

But of course, that was an impossible task. The instant you told yourself not to, images of him popped into your brain and he was all you could think about.

It wasn't fair.

After all this time being away from him, the months you'd spent building back up a normal life for yourself as you tried to integrate into your new home, your mind went back to him with every other thought. You couldn't help the way you wondered about what he was doing. Where he was. If today he would casually destroy numerous innocent lives that he wouldn't bother to remember, or if he would decide that the day was going to be a peaceful one. You couldn't imagine his way of life had stopped completely, but it wasn't like every day you had spent with him was one where blood was spilled.

It was only the really bad days that were like that.

Was Uvogin even still alive? That was something else that you thought about. The stress at the thought of him finding you was constant, but if you could have some sort of confirmation that he was dead, it would mean that all of stress could taken off of your mind. Maybe you wouldn't even need to keep living here and go back to the way your life had been before Uvo decided to mess it up for you.

It seemed like a long shot that he'd be dead, though. Especially when you remembered what he was capable of. You had too many memories of the way he could crumple up metal in his bare hands, or how he could take hits that would have demolished a normal person. Hell, not even bullets could do anything to him. So what the hell could even kill a man like him?

You sighed.

It'd be nice to imagine that he'd given up on you, at the very least. That you running and hiding away for so long had caused him to lose interest in you and that he'd shifted his obsessive focus to someone else. A thought that made you feel bad for that hypothetical third party, but it would technically be good for you.

….. What an awful thought to have.

You groaned as you pushed your face into the pillow.

It wasn't fair how he consumed your mind. It wasn't fair how you had this same internal dialogue every morning. It wasn't fair that he was always somewhere at the back of your head from the moment you woke up to the time you went to sleep. It wasn't fair that even in your dreams you weren't free of him.

Why did he need to pick you?

It was useless asking that question – you'd never get an answer for it. Not one that you'd be satisfied with, anyway.

Glancing up again at the time, you found it to be 2:16 AM.

Work was in four hours and you couldn't get back to sleep.

5:35 AM

You winced the second you stepped out the door, the cold air of the outside biting at your exposed skin without mercy. Unfortunately, as much as you wanted to barricade yourself in your apartment until the weather was better, you had to get to work.

And it wasn't like things would get any warmer; the days in Mowbray were freezing all year long.

Being located in one of the coldest areas in the world tended to do that; the town was surrounded on all sides by an icy tundra, a completely barren and snow covered land where nothing was able to grow. The harsh weather conditions meant that for the majority of the year, the main way in or out of Mowbray was by airship. There weren't any roads that connected the town to the outside world, and the vehicles that were capable of getting across the rough landscape were generally reserved for true emergencies. So the only visitors that the town would get that came by land were unusually determined people – Hunters, generally – and they only came into town during the summer months. The rest of the year no one dared venture out into that wasteland for fear of dying and being forever lost, buried beneath the snow.

With conditions like that, there weren't many people living there. The town's total population was just below the three thousand mark, and with a lack of anything one could do at Mowbray, it was a rare occurrence to get many out of town visitors. They usually ranged from relatives of other residents to the aforementioned Hunters, either coming in for a social call or for a job of some kind.

For the people who lived in the town year-round, the majority of them were those who had been born here and were happy with the way their lives were. Things here were simple and quiet, and very few had any desire to leave the life that kept them separated from the rest of the world. Some people moved to the town later in life in search of that peace, finding the way that the world worked outside was too overwhelming. Sometimes those in the latter group decided a few months in that it wasn't worth it and left, but a majority of that group was happy to stay.

And then there were the people whose sole purpose in coming to the town in was order to hide. Like you did.

You weren't the only one, as there were several who lived in the units around yours that raised suspicion. Like the old man who lived across from you with the long-healed burn marks on his hands that he tried to keep hidden. Or the younger woman who lived in a different building who you occasionally saw staring at a photo from a locket around her neck whenever she stepped outside to smoke. And then there was the tenant below you looked to be around your age and was constantly on alert as they always looked around them whenever they went outside, as if they feared they were being followed.

You speculated on what their stories were, what exactly had brought them to a place like this. And you could assume that they did the same with you: watching you pass them by while they quietly wondered what in the world had made you come here of all places.

Those weren't stories that would ever be shared as it was better to keep such things quiet.

As you trudged out into the snow so you could start your shift at the grocery store, you were annoyed with yourself that your thoughts once more went to Uvogin, and you subconsciously pushed the scarf around your face just a bit higher.

At least with living here, it was considered normal to cover up half of your face when you went outside.

5:59 AM

Only the faintest hints of the sunrise were beginning to color the sky when you entered the store and began to set everything up for the new workday. Turning on the lights, checking the shelves to see if any stock was out of place and making sure everything was clean before you unlocked the front doors to officially open the place. You had a routine in place that you followed religiously as you were desperate not to disappoint your boss, an elderly woman named Helena. She owned the place, and she was nice enough to give you a job despite the large gap in your work history, nor did she question you on why you had come to the town in the first place. She had always been warm to you, treating you as though you were one of her own. So after such a sweet old woman had taken a chance on you, you were determined to show her judgment hadn't been misplaced.

Helena had never doubted you, although that sentiment didn't seem to be rubbing off on the other long-time residents of the town.

The bell above the door chimed twenty minutes after the store had opened, and you called out a greeting. There was a mumbled reply in return, and then two sets of footsteps walked further into the store. As you anticipated that whoever had entered likely wouldn't be around long, you took your place at the register so as to be ready for them.

You then overheard part of their conversation.

“What'd you think is making them so antsy?” one man's voice asked.

“Dunno. Could be weather,” a different man answered.

“The weather? Do the dogs get that nervous over that?” the first one questioned.

“Sometimes. Could be that we're in for a bad storm.”

There was a brief period of silence before the second voice continued to say “then again, it could be something else completely.”

“Like what?”

The second man sounded slightly exasperated as he answered “I dunno. We'll have to see what happens.”

The first man seemed to take the hint to stop asking as nothing more was said.

Based on the conversation, you had a good idea as to the identity for at least one of the men, and as the two rounded the corner of the aisle, you found that you were correct in assuming one of them was Marlow, an older man who kept sled dogs. The man who was accompanying him was slightly younger, and you were pretty sure his name was Hugh. Both were carrying drinks and pre-made sandwiches, and they set them down on the counter in front of you.

You began to ring the items up as you asked “find everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

The response you got from Marlow was curt, the exasperation still present in his tone. He wasn't in a good mood.

A shame. You wanted to ask about his dogs, especially with what you had overheard moments ago. But it was better not to as you knew it was likely he would snap at you if you annoyed him too much.

Maybe when he was in a better mood you could ask if his dogs were alright.

They paid quickly once you had finished scanning the items, taking the jenny you'd given them in change and leaving the store to go to their jobs in the oil fields. You and Hugh made eye contact just before they left, and you smiled as you told him to have a good rest of his day.

He looked uncomfortable as he gave a brief nod in response before vanishing out the door, the bell above the entrance ringing out loudly.

It was a little sad that a majority of the townsfolk didn't like you. Most of them merely tolerated your presence while they looked at you with suspicion, not trusting you for a moment.

Helena told you that people would open up eventually. That you just needed to be around for a while before the close-knit community would be willing to let you in. Just be patient and it'll happen someday.

9:03 AM

The front door bell ringing out followed by a “hello there!” brought you out from the back area as you greeted your boss, who seemed happy as she headed towards you.

“How busy has it been so far?” Helena asked.

“It's been pretty slow,” you answered.

She nodded as she removed her scarf, saying “sounds normal for a Thursday.”

“Yep.”

You then remembered the conversation you'd overheard this morning, and you mentioned “I heard someone saying we might be in for bad weather, though, so it could pick up.”

“Really? Who said that?”

“Marlow. I heard him saying that his dogs were nervous.”

“Well, animals do have better senses than us, so they would be the first to know if something was off,” she said.

Helena pulled her coat off as she said “if we are in for some bad weather, it wouldn't be a bad idea to make sure we're fully stocked out front, just in case.”

You nodded, saying “sure. I can get started on that.”

She laughed.

“Not now. Do it when you get back from your break. You look like you could use one,” she said.

“Oh. Okay.”

She was hanging her coat up in the back when you asked “do I look that tired?”

“It's noticeable,” she told you, “did you not get a lot of sleep last night?”

“Not really,” you answered, “I woke up a bit too early this morning and I couldn't get back to sleep.”

You noticed the way her brows furrowed when you said that and you quickly added “it's fine, though. I'll just go to bed early tonight.”

She didn't seem completely convinced, but Helena nodded slowly as she replied “as long as you're sure. But don't be afraid to ask if you need to head home early.”

“I'll be okay. But thank you.”

She let you go after that, and you sat down in a small break room while you did as she had told you, taking out a drink you had packed from your locker.

Now that you weren't keeping busy with work, your mind went back to Uvogin.

It'd be nice if you could talk to someone about it, you thought to yourself. Helena had told you that you could talk to her about anything, and you wondered if she sensed that you were hiding something from her. It'd be nice to let out everything that had happened to you, who had taken you and why you were hiding here.

But doing that felt selfish. Did you really want to destroy an old woman's peace of mind by letting her know that there was a chance a man who happened to be mass murderer who was also obsessed with you might come here one day? And would she still be nice to you once she learned everything?

It was better to keep it to yourself.

11:00 AM

A new shipment of goods arrived only a few minutes ago, and Helena had left you in charge of the front while she made sure everything was in order. Doing as your boss had told you, you made sure to put out the stock on the shelves wherever there was room. Currently you were restocking some of the shelves of soup that had already been running a bit low.

The bell above the front door rang out while you were kneeling by the shelf, and as you grabbed another can from the box next to you, you called out “welcome! Let me know if you need anything.”

There wasn't any response to your greeting, but you didn't pay much mind to it. You only made a mental note to keep an eye on the checkout counter so you wouldn't leave whoever it was waiting.

Though they didn't say anything, you heard them walk off the mat in front of the door as their footsteps sounded on the hard tiles of the floor. Those same footsteps walked over to the refrigerated section on the other side of the wall, and the hum that came from that section grew louder when one of the doors were opened.

At that point you didn't pay much attention to the other person, your mind going back to the task at hand while you continued to fill up the empty spaces on the shelves in front of you.

You needed to do some shopping of your own when your shift ended, you remembered. The contents of your pantry were starting to run low, and if the weather was going to be taking a turn for the worse, you didn't want to be stranded in your apartment without a decent supply of food.

With that thought in mind, you decided to leave one of the soup cans in the box so you could buy it for yourself later. That was at least one perk to working in a grocery store, and as minor as it was, you smiled to yourself.

The shadow of a person suddenly overtook the end of the aisle that led to the door. Still in the middle of restocking, you placed another can on the shelf as you instinctively looked over to the new presence that you sensed.

You froze.

You stayed in place, looking at the person who was now standing before you and you wondered if this was reality or another bad dream. The shudder that ran down your spine and the feel of the cold floor against your knees confirmed that this wasn't in your head – this was real.

Uvogin was here.

Standing at the end of the aisle.

Staring directly at you.

You stared back, unable to say or do anything, as for a moment, your mind stayed blank.

Then your mind began to race as you were forced to come to terms with your worst-case scenario that was playing out before you: he had found you. You were face to face with the man you had run from, the entire reason you had come to this town in the first place in the hopes that you would never see him again.

But now he was here, right in front of you.

All that time, all that effort had been for nothing. All of it was made meaningless the instant he laid eyes on you. The only thing that was guaranteed from this point out was that you were going to suffer for it, because there was little doubt that he was angry with you.

Your heart began to race and you felt like you were having trouble breathing. But you didn't look away from him.

He hadn't said anything.

What would happen now?

You had imagined him finding you at the store before this. In the times this awful scenario played out in your head, Uvogin would always grab you, toss you over his shoulder and carry you outside, regardless of if you were dressed for the weather or not. You doubted that he wanted you dead, but he wasn't against having you suffer if he felt you deserved it. Would he actually do what you'd imagined for so long? Or would he use threats to get you to drop what you were doing and make you go with him willingly?

Whatever he would do, he would act immediately. That was what you had believed.

Yet Uvogin wasn't saying anything. He was still standing there, his gaze boring holes into you while his mouth was pressed into a hard line. Meanwhile, you couldn't say anything. You were barely able to breathe at the moment, let alone try to get any words out.

A brief bit of hope made your heart skip – maybe he didn't realize it was you?

That hope was quashed within moments as you realized what a dumb thought that was. There was no chance that he didn't recognize you – Uvogin wasn't stupid. Whatever changes you had made to your appearance wouldn't have fooled him into thinking that you were another person, and definitely not after he'd spent so long staring at you. The way he was looking at you now meant that he definitely knew it was you. Trying to act like you were a simple shop worker and nothing more would probably only make him more angry.

Don't make this any worse for yourself

You said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move.

Helena and the deliveryman were still in the back, and no one had come in after Uvogin. It was only the two of you in the store at the moment; a perfect opportunity for him to grab you and take off. Maybe there would be people around outside to see the two of you, but even if they did witness your kidnapping, they wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Though seeing someone being taken against their will would spur most to action. That thought made you shudder. You really hoped none of them were suicidal enough to try and stop Uvogin. Those were deaths that you didn't want on your conscience. It would be better to beg for their lives now. Promise that you'll do everything he says just as long as he didn't hurt any of the residents of the small town and that the only one he should punish is you. You were at fault for what happened, not them.

You licked your dry lips as you prepared to speak.

Uvogin beat you to it.

Motioning over to the register with his head, he said to you “you gonna ring me up or what?”

He held a six pack of beer in one hand that he lifted up slightly while he said that. Somehow you'd managed to miss that before.

You needed to run his sentence over in your head a few times before you understood.

“Oh…. Okay.”

You kept an eye on him as you made your way to the register, anticipating the moment when he would roughly grab you and take you away from this place.

Yet he didn't do anything other than keep an eye on you as well, and when you made it behind the counter, he dropped the six pack in front of you. You couldn't help but flinch at the loud sound it made when it landed.

You looked at him and then back to the beer. Still no move on his part to grab you.

He…. He really wanted you to ring him up?

With only a single item to scan, the price of the item plus the sales tax added up to the total he owed, which flashed on a small screen in front of him. Upon seeing that, Uvogin frowned.

“Stuff is a lot more expensive here,” he commented.

That time you managed to get out something that resembled a coherent sentence, though you couldn't bring yourself to speak loudly.

“Just about everything comes in by airship,” you mumbled, “flying supplies is automatically expensive.”

Uvogin scoffed.

“So this place is in the middle of an empty wasteland, cold as fuck and you need to pay twice as much for a thing of beer? Seems like a shitty town to me.”

“….. The quiet is nice,” you said.

“Yeah, I'm sure the fact that this place is quiet is why you came here,” he answered sarcastically.

“…. Part of it.”

“Sure.”

You could hear Helena speaking to the deliveryman in the back. As nice as she was, she had a bad habit of chatting with people for just a bit too long.

It was just as well. If she came out and saw how you were right now, she'd assume that Uvogin had done something to you and demand that he leave or threaten to call the police. Depending on his mood, Uvo would respond in one of two ways: laugh it off if he was feeling good or kill her if he was annoyed.

She couldn't save you from him. No one in this town could.

And none of them deserved to die because of you.

Uvogin hadn't taken the beer nor payed for it, and you stood behind the counter, your hands folded in front of you while you waited for what was to come next.

When nothing happened, you chose to break the silence.

“What happens now?” you asked quietly.

“That all depends on what you do,” he answered.

“…. Are you going to kill anyone?”

“That depends on what you do,” Uvogin repeated, “there is a scenario where no one gets hurt and they all live on happily, but whether or not we go that route relies completely on where you choose to go from here.”

Uvogin crossed his arms as he asked, “so, you gonna give me any problems?”

You shook your head.

“Good. Now, where do you live?”

You kept your head low as you answered “Lerch apartments. It's a set of blue buildings.”

“What unit?”

“17E. On the second floor”

Uvo held out his hand as he ordered “give me your keys.”

You complied, reaching down to get the key ring in your pocket and taking off the one that unlocked your front door. He snatched it out of your hand when you held it out for him, and it quickly vanished into the pocket of his jacket.

“Do I need to be worried about any roommates?” Uvo asked.

“No. I live alone.”

“What about nosy neighbors?”

“They shouldn't bother you. The people there tend to keep to themselves.”

Uvogin nodded, then looked to the clock on the wall behind you.

“When do you get off?” he asked.

“Uh, in about an hour and a half.”

“Hm. Alright,” said Uvogin, “finish up your shift and we'll talk more when you get back.”

“Finish up?” you asked. That seemed strange to you, that he'd let you go about business as usual and let you finish your shift at your job. Hadn't the fact that you'd run away bothered him? Didn't he want to leave with you as soon as possible?

“Yeah, it'll look less suspicious that way,” he replied, “unless you wanna get off early.”

You shook your head.

He smirked as he said “I figured. You would rather try to delay the inevitable, wouldn't you?”

“N-no, it's not that. It's Helena. She's older. She needs help,” you said.

“She looked fine to me, but whatever,” he said, shrugging as he added “use her as an excuse if that's what you want.”

It wasn't completely an excuse. She did need help with some of the heavier lifting.

“I'm not using her as an excuse. She's been good to me and I want to help her out,” you told him.

He shrugged again as he reiterated “whatever. As long as you show up in ninety minutes.”

You nodded.

An hour and a half. That was all you had left of this little life you'd made for yourself up here. After that, you would return to what your life had been with Uvogin. Following him around like a pet as he journeyed to wherever he pleased, going with his whims to find whatever interested him most. You had no say in any of it, and if you kicked up too much of a fuss, he'd respond with some sort of violence.

What would he do to you for running?

“Anything else I should know about?” he asked.

“I don't think so.”

“Alright then. I'll be heading off.”

“But before I do that,” he added, “there's something you need to do for me first.”

You immediately became nervous as you asked “what?”

He smirked as he pointed to the cans of beer that were still sitting in front of you on the counter.

“Cover this for me,” he said.

You stared at him for a moment before looking back down to the beer. And after double-checking the amount that was owed, you let out a quiet sigh as you got out your wallet, putting your money into the register and getting out the change.

All this time and he still refused to carry cash.

“Gimme the receipt,” he told you.

You didn't question why he wanted it and just did as he said, printing it out and holding it for him to take.

But when you thought he was reaching for it, he instead grabbed you by the arm to pull you forward, causing the edge of the counter to dig into your stomach while he leaned in so he could whisper in your ear.

“By this point, we both know that you're prone to doing stupid shit,” Uvogin whispered, “and while you won't get very far with this weather, it'll be annoying to hunt you down in that tundra. But if you decide to do that anyway, just know that I'll level this entire fucking town before I go and get you.”

You could sense the grin on his face as he continued with “I'll probably start with grandma back there. Maybe splatter her brains across the walls before I move on to whoever's closest.”

“Please don't do that,” you whispered.

“Then don't run off.”

With that, he let go of your arm, took the receipt that you were still holding, and grabbed the case of beer as he began to head towards the front door.

Before he left, he looked back at you one last time.

He was grinning at you, but there was a look in his eyes that betrayed how he was truly feeling.

You were wrong about what you'd been thinking earlier.

He was angry.

Uvogin was angry at the lengths you'd gone to try and escape him. And now he'd be sitting at your apartment for an hour and a half, stewing in his emotions and becoming angrier and angrier until you got back.

A full body shudder ran through you at the thought of that.

Silently, you walked away from the counter and returned to the box of soup, settling yourself down on the floor before placing the last of the cans on the shelf. The box was empty when you were done, and as you got up slowly and collected the empty cardboard off from the floor, another shudder ran through you at the thought of what he'd be like when you returned to your apartment.

You should've just gone with him.

12:33 PM

The blue building looked foreboding as you approached it, the place that you had called home for so long now feeling like anything but. The dread of what awaited you in that apartment had long since settled in, and every step you took through the snow felt even more weighted down than normal. Yet you tried to keep your pace quick. You told him ninety minutes. That was how long he would be willing to wait before he went through with his threat.

Uvogin would absolutely go through with what he'd told you. He'd likely be even more inclined to destroy the town because of the remote location. Even if someone managed to get to a phone or a radio before Uvogin got to them, it would take hours before rescuers would arrive, and by that point, survivors would be an impossibility.

It was the first time you had considered that scenario, and you felt stupid for it. You had been so desperate for a place that was away from the rest of society that you didn't think about anything else.

But it wouldn't happen. You weren't going to let it. Ninety minutes later and you were returning, just as you'd promised.

Though not without some minor incident. After Uvogin left, Helena had noticed how far your mood had dropped and she'd asked you what was wrong. Unable to tell her the truth, you lied to her and told her that everything was fine. But even with your insistence that everything was fine, she didn't seem to believe you, even if she eventually let it go.

You wished you could've said goodbye to her. A proper farewell to someone who had been so kind, as there was no chance that you would ever see her again. Or anyone here. Helena and all of your neighbors would all become memories of a different time. And you would vanish from their lives without much of a trace. Would any of them wonder about what happened to you? Helena would – she would definitely worry over you, and you already felt guilty for that, for the stress you had yet to put that sweet woman under. Whether the others would care enough to bother worrying wasn't as clear.

You shouldn't be so worried about them, the selfish part of you said. After all, they weren't the ones that needed to deal with Uvogin. You did.

And a different line of thought began to run through your head once again as you made your way up the stairs.

What was Uvo going to do to you?

…. Nothing good, that was certain.

You stopped yourself before you could go any further. It was better not to think about it. Just let it happen so you can get through this faster.

The faster he's finished punishing you, the faster the whole ordeal is over with.

Reaching the door to your unit, muscle memory kicked in for a moment as you reached for you bag with the intent of pulling out your key before you remembered that you'd given it to Uvogin. Still, you tried the knob anyway.

It turned out that he'd left it unlocked as the door opened easily.

You didn't waste any time getting inside, quickly and loudly shutting the door behind you. There. He knew you were back now, like you promised.

Maybe that was enough to put him in a better mood.

Pulling yourself away from the door, you turned and walked in, finding that snow had already been tracked onto the carpet; Uvo hadn't bothered to remove his boots before he barged in. Clearly there was no point in doing so in his mind. You wouldn't be staying here anymore, so who cared if things got messed up?

You found him sitting back against your cheap couch, one foot propped up on your coffee table with a can of beer in hand. There were already two empty cans on the floor next to him. The rest of the room was in a messy state, and when you glanced towards your bedroom, you saw your things had been strewn about. He'd been going through your stuff while he waited for you.

Uvogin smirked once he saw you.

“I'm glad you chose not to be stupid,” he said.

You gave a short nod.

Uvogin pulled the can of beer away from his lips, one of his eyebrows arching up in question as he looked at you.

“What, got nothin' to say?” he asked.

“I don't know what you want me to say,” you answered.

“No? How about 'sorry I put you through all of this bullshit'? That might be a good place to start.”

“… Will me saying that I'm sorry change anything?”

“Nah.”

He pulled his foot off of the table so he could sit up fully, telling you “but after the way I needed to track you down, the least you can do is grovel for me.”

You looked down at your feet, finding it hard to maintain the eye contact he was giving you, and you mumbled out an “I'm sorry.”

“Hmm. Not sure that's good enough.”

A full body flinch ran through you when you heard him stand up, and every part of you wanted to run back to the door of your unit, to try and get away from him. Your hands started to sweat as he approached you and you were scared. You were so scared of what was going to happen from this point.

You made yourself stay in place by repeating in your head that running would only make things worse.

He was on you in moments, and you were reunited with that sensation of how small and weak you felt whenever he towered over you. How easily he could break you if he wanted. How easily he had broken you, snapping your bones whenever you had gone too far for him to laugh off whatever line you had crossed, and that was usually followed by him telling you that it wasn't that bad. You falling asleep while you cried in his arms was an occurrence that was far too common, and only ever served to make you feel even more pathetic. That even after he'd been the one to hurt you, you accepted the comfort he so patronizingly offered you, and the reason why he did so seemed to simply be because it amused him.

Before you met Uvogin, you hadn't thought of yourself as being weak, and during your time away from him, you felt as though you were gaining back some of the independence and confidence you had lost. All it took for those illusions to come crumbling to pieces was a few minutes in his presence once again.

Something violent would follow, you told yourself. Maybe he'd hit you, or maybe the way you were avoiding eye contact would annoy him enough that he'd yank you up by the hair and make you look at him.

Yet the violence you expected didn't come. Instead, he placed his hand on your cheek, his warm skin coming into contact with yours that was still chilled from the bitter cold outside. You stiffened.

What was he doing?

“You wanna try again?” he asked.

Uvogin's tone contrasted the almost gentle touch on your cheek. It held more than a hint of warning – there was a promise that things would be awful for you if you didn't do what he wanted.

You cleared your throat before you spoke again.

“I'm sorry, Uvogin,” you said.

“Yeah? What for?”

“For making you come out here to get me.”

“And?”

“For…. For running from you in the first place.”

“Anything else?”

…. What else was there to say?

“I'm just sorry in general,” you mumbled.

He hummed again, the hand that had been softly caressing your cheek stilling once he heard that.

“Sorry in general,” he repeated, “that's it?”

It was probably the wrong move, but you nodded.

Uvogin hummed again before he made you look back up at him. Surprisingly, he didn't seem too angry. If anything, the look on his face resembled that of disappointment.

“You make loving you really hard sometimes, you know that?”

“Loving me?” you repeated.

“Yeah, loving you,” Uvo said, raising an eyebrow as he asked “why are you questioning that?”

“…. It doesn't feel like you love me,” you answered.

“Why else would I come out here and chase you down?” Uvogin asked.

“Because you're controlling and you don't want to see me get away from you.”

He hummed, shrugging as he said “well, you're right on the second part.”

Somehow, despite the terror you felt of being in his presence once again, you managed to scoff at that. A horribly dumb mistake, as Uvogin's hand on your cheek stilled and he zeroed in on you.

“Got something to say?” he asked.

“….. No.”

“Oh, come on. Tell me the truth,” Uvo said. When you refused to respond, he tsked.

“This is why we have issues, babe. Because you refuse to open up like you should.”

“…. You say that like the issue isn't the fact that you hurt me,” you answered.

“If I treat you rough it's because you're the one who chooses to act out,” he replied, “I've been plenty good to you; the only reason the bad outweighs the good is because you keep fighting me.”

“And you sure haven't helped yourself with this stunt,” Uvo added, “but if being the bad guy means keeping you by my side where you're supposed to be, I'll be the fucking bad guy.”

The air around you suddenly felt a lot more dangerous. Your lip began to wobble while you trembled in his hold. Tears began to well up in your eyes, which Uvogin noticed immediately.

“Starting the waterworks already?” he asked, his tone mocking while he smirked at you.

That was it. The sight of him looking down at you like that was what finally made your composure snap, and useless words began to spill out of your mouth as you clutched at his jacket.

“Uvogin, please – let me go,” you began, “I can't go back to that life you live. Watching you do horrible things to innocent people – I can't do that anymore. I can't stand it. Please just let me stay here. I won't ever leave this place and I won't bother you ever again. I won't say anything to anyone about you or the troupe. Just leave me here.”

Uvogin said nothing, but judging by his expression, he wasn't at all impressed by your speech.

You pushed further.

“Uvo, please. This is what would be the best for both of us. If you really cared about me-”

The next thing you knew, you were on the floor. The side of your head that laid directly on the hard surface was aching, and there was a stinging pain in your opposite cheek as well as on your lip. You reached up to gingerly touch your face with your gloved hand, wincing as the pain worsened when you did so. Running a finger lightly over your lip, when you pulled your hand back, you saw a smearing of blood on the fabric.

It finally registered what exactly had caused that pain, the feeling of a palm against your face that struck you so hard your brain rattled about inside your head.

He hit you.

You finally got him mad enough that he hit you.

You should've expected it – no, you had expected it, and yet it still managed to come as a surprise.

Uvogin's boot roughly connected with your shoulder, and you cried out as you were forced onto your back. The only good thing was that he didn't pin you down like that, pulling his foot away from you after.

He was speaking.

“The cold air must've gotten to your brain, babe. You really think I would just leave you after I found you?” he asked, “that after everything, I'm just gonna say 'sure' and leave you behind in this wasteland? You really fucking think that there's some scenario where you're not coming out of this place with me?”

You felt the blood coming from the gash in your lip, dripping into your gaping mouth and bringing with it the taste of iron. Tears began to flow freely as you brought your hand back up to your mouth in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.

Uvogin knelt down next to you, saying “I didn't hit you that hard; you'll be fine.”

That statement was horribly familiar. The way he shrugged off your injuries and making it clear that he felt you were overreacting. A single hit from him could kill the average person, but you mattered enough that he would control his strength because he didn't want you dead.

Uvogin scratched at the back of his head as he added “I have to ask, though: what the fuck you were expecting when you say shit like that?”

You didn't reply. Anything you said was likely to make him hurt you more.

After a few painfully silent moments where Uvogin watched you while you began to sob, he got up without saying another word, leaving you where you lay on the floor. You followed him with your eyes, watching until he disappeared into the kitchen, and a few moments after that, you heard the sounds of him opening and closing your cabinets and drawers before he found what he was looking for.

Uvogin returned, settling down next to you and pulling you off of the floor. You protested, feeling the ache in your head becoming worse from how he moved you. He ended up pulling you into his lap, holding a dish towel up against your busted lip.

“Use this before you bleed all over the place,” he told you, encouraging you to take the towel.

When you did as he said and you clutched the fabric up to your face, Uvo kept one hand on your back, rubbing up and down in a manner that was soothing.

Already you were back in that routine. Where he'd hurt you and then follow it up by making a show of kindness, as minimal as it was. And already you were accepting it by leaning into his touch.

Because what else were you going to do?

Uvo's voice cut through your thoughts as he said “we're gonna leave soon. I've got your bag packed, but if there's anything I didn't put in that you wanna keep, now's the time to take care of that.”

You didn't respond. And when you curled in on yourself in his lap while you tried to stifle his sobs, Uvogin didn't say anything further.

1:09 PM

You wished you could've watched as you left the town, as today was the last time you would ever see it.

Technically, you could've done that. But the coward in you feared what Uvo might do to you if he saw that. While you knew that the hit at the apartment was only the beginning and wouldn't compare to whatever punishment was awaiting you once you left the area, it was better not to test his patience and make him angrier with you.

You'd made him plenty angry by now.

At least your lip had stopped bleeding, and instead of clutching the dish towel to your face, you held on tight to the backpack Uvogin had packed for you while you sat in the passenger seat of the heavy duty off-road vehicle he had brought you to once you left the apartment. You didn't recognize it, and it seemed to be doing well enough on the area around Mowbray. He'd stolen it, no doubt, getting the vehicle so he could avoid anyone who would see you two if you left by airship.

Doing it this way was faster, too. Uvo likely had a schedule in his head that he wanted to keep to.

If you making him wait ninety minutes had caused a delay in that schedule, you'd probably end up paying for that, too.

There hadn't been any further violent incidents because you didn't give him any reason to respond in that way. Once he decided that it was time to go he pulled you off of his lap and told you to collect your things, you did as he said, quietly following behind him once he left the apartment.

Uvogin didn't seem quite as angry anymore. And as he drove you further and further away from the small town, he started talking again.

“Anybody there gonna kick up a fuss when they find out you're gone?” he asked.

“… I don't think so,” you said, “my boss will probably be worried, but I don't think she'll be able to do much.”

“You talking about that old woman?”

You nodded.

A terrible thought then occurred to you, and you felt compelled to say “I didn't tell her anything about you. She doesn't know anything beyond that I moved there for a change of pace. She's not a threat.”

Uvogin laughed.

“Relax. If I was worried about that, I would've gotten rid of her before we headed off. And even if you did tell her everything, what the hell is she gonna do about it?” he asked.

Hearing that was bittersweet. It did nothing to make your situation any better, but at least Helena wouldn't suffer because of you.

At least there was that to be grateful for.

Outside the vehicle, it was clear; not even the wind was making any effort to batter at the car. You idly thought how it definitely wasn't bad weather that had been bothering Marlow's dogs.

Another thought: it would've been nice to see them again.

“You gonna miss this place?” Uvogin asked.

“I don't know.”

He laughed a little.

“What, you went out of your way to come here and you didn't even like it?” he asked.

“I was trying to hide,” you began, “and it was away from the rest of society and seemed like a good place to lay low.”

You sighed as you said “but I was never able to escape you, even before you found me.”

You heard the confusion in his voice when he asked “what does that mean?”

Before you could wonder on if you should answer that question, you spoke.

“I thought about you a lot,” you admitted, “every day from when I woke up until I fell asleep, I was wondering how you were doing. You were constantly on my mind and I couldn't help it.”

There was silence after you said that. A silence that lasted longer than you would've expected. And now you were left to wonder if saying that had been a mistake and if you were going to pay for that as well.

It felt like it was impossible for you to stop from screwing up.

Then you heard him chuckle to himself.

….. Why was he laughing?

“I'm really happy to hear that,” Uvogin said.

“…. You're happy?”

“Yeah.”

He then reached over with his hand and tapped against your head as he added “because if you're worrying about me while you're away from me, that means there's some part of you in there that knows you're supposed to be with me. If you really hated me, why would you bother expending that mental energy, right?”

His hand settled on your shoulder, and when you didn't respond he began to squeeze as he asked again “right?”

“… Yeah,” you whispered.

Uvo's grip lessened and he patted you on the shoulder, saying “you should listen to that part of you more often. Then we can avoid shit like this.”

“Okay.”

He patted you again at your soft spoken response before he pulled away, and when you glanced up at him, you noted that he looked pleased with himself.

Today had been a good day for Uvogin. Even though he'd needed to go to extreme lengths to find you, he ultimately did just that and was now on his way back with his reclaimed prize. For him, things were going to go back to the way they were supposed to.

For you, it had been less than eleven hours since the simple life you made for yourself was destroyed with no chance of you ever reclaiming it. The chance that you would be able to escape Uvogin again was next to nothing as he would be sure not to slip up again when it came to you. Your busted lip still hurt, but it would heal up. As would the other wounds that would come as a consequence for your escape.

He would be there for you while you healed, offering those soft touches and kisses while he wiped away your tears. And you would accept them, all the while knowing that every minute you spent in his hold, internally you were breaking more and more.

[ajaxwfe]

They were too late to get you back.

Warnings: mention of death, arguments, angst with no happy ending, neglected reader, jealousy.

Diluc x reader, Alhaitham x reader

"Never got the chance to apologize.."

DİLUC

Diluc and you were not the type of people who would fight often, been a relationship with him almost 4 years. Sure, everything is going well.

Well... it was going well. For the past 1 year everything changed for you and him. He barely came home, interact with you, ignoring you most of the time... and kept arguing, fighting over small things.

You never opened your mouth or fight back, you loved diluc so much that it was starting to hurt. Your shared room started to feel cold, no more morning kisses or hugs before diluc went to work, cold breakfasts and dinner all by yourself. Even if he did join the diner he would be quiet all the time, not even looking at you.

You did kept your mouth shut, holding for a hope... a hope for your future with him. Until you heard the conversation with Jean. The last knife that would break you.

"She's so useless, I cant keep up with her annoying presence all the time. All she do is stay at home and distract me from work... she keeps finding noneless things to argue with me. I just want to break the ties with her already, being with her is so tiring."

"Am I... that bad?" Who knew your dear lover was thinking of you like this for the past 1 year. All you wanted was too be like the past relationship you both had. Warm bed, morning kisses, happy breakfast and dates. Covering your mouth trying not to make any sound you left there sobbing quietly.

You did everything, I mean really everything. That all arguing was really nothing for him? You just asked for him to stay by yourside for more. You were slowly draining from inside, you had no one but diluc. Only his presence was keeping you sane but this cold mansion was making you crazy.

You returned back to the mansion, you had enough. Talking with him would go nowhere after all. You wanted his attention, you wanted him to see your worth. Going to the storage room picking up the sword once you held before moving in with your so called lover. Taking a mission from katheryne, you walked to the lawachurls camp.

You were going to show him that you are still worth for something, that you could help him with everything if he asked for it. Even if it meant death. Standing in front of the big creature holding your sword tightly you ran towards to it.

..Oh how wrong you were, thinking you could defeat that monster. Laying on a pool of blood coming from your head. Suddenly feeling peacefull for the first time after 1 year of suffering from neglect. Looking at the shining stars above you. Your head ringing from aches, sword a meter away. Faint screaming noises from back. You couldn't bother to look that way.

"Please..." a faint voice big hands caressing your cheek, weird it wasnt raining but you could feel wetness on your cheeks. Turning your eyes to the voice. Hands wiping away your blood.

"Diluc.." your throat dry, coughing the blood. Your beloved, your future. How could you hate him when he was the only one left in your life? İs this really how you were going to die? As a pathetic advanturer? Few tears sliding from your face as your blurry vision tried to capture every beauty on his face.

"Jean is coming here so... please... please dont leave me now..I wont neglect you anymore...I will beg on my knees once you recover... so dont leave me here all alone.." Ah... was he also holding a hope on his hands too? A future would be great with him. Your eyelids feeling heavy, heart beating slowly as the seconds passing, his voice becoming more and more faint.

"Sleep...Can I sleep in your arms?" Your head falling to his chest, inhaling the scent for the last time you missed for so long. Diluc holding your cold body close to him, screaming and crying cursing to the celestia as you drift away from him.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham was no bad guy, I mean if it is you, he actually is willing to do anything for you. He is sure workaholic, but you guys were making sure spending time.

You met him in akademiya when you guys were like 18-19. İt wasnt a love in first sight infact you hated him because he was a cocky man. He barely cared for any situtations, always one step ahead of you, teasing you even if other cant really understand his way of teasing. But overall because of kaveh you guys did get along sometimes.

Suprisingly he was the one who confessed with a valentines card, it was cute since he was shy about it and now its been 7 years.

Alhaitham is good at fighting so sometimes he takes dangerous missions other than being scribe and that worries you a little. You were just a researcher in akademiya so you cant always be with him. First time meeting with The Traveler your mind was at ease since they were with Alhaitham and helped him with secret missions in desert.

From 7 years to this day he is also not the type of person who really shows affection towards to someone but you, it made you feel speacial. But after all that archon saving missions he invites traveler to dinner, hanging out with her more and more. You told yourself that you were not jealous and its normal to hang out with people they like.

This became so often that you were feeling so neglected, you couldnt even talked about this with alhaitham since you felt like he wouldnt care about it.

You were in your room with kaveh, he was trying to finish his desings as you were staring at the ceiling. "Saw alhaitham with a woman today while coming here." Kaveh broke the silence. "Do you know her?" He turned to you.

"You mean the traveler?" You asked tilting your head. "Uhm no? Traveler left to fontaine almost 1 week ago..." he was cold sweating, your eyes widened from shock. Then who he was meeting up with for 1 week?

"Kaveh... tell me your joking?" You laughed. İt was probably one of the jokes he was making right? But he remained silent looking down. No you wouldnt believe it until you see it with your own eyes. "Y/N wait-"

You stormed off to the Sumeru City streets heart beating like crazy. You stopped 20 meter away from alhaitham, hiding in the corner. You saw him... his betrayal as he caressed another womans cheek. She was beautiful, long silky hair and shining eyes, thin and elegance body. Your eyes watering slowly as you watched him lean for a kiss.

You ran from there. As fast as you can, till your lungs gave up. Entering your shared home to pack things up, you looked at youself on the mirror. Hair that looked horrible, sleepy eyes, body that looked like a frog in your eyes. But her... she was beautiful unlike you. You cried for the first time after years, wiping your tears as you packed your things. Leaving your room with no trace of you.

Kaveh on the other hand, explaining alhaitham that you saw everything. Panic rising in him he ran to the shared house. Walking inside slowly, trying to hear if there were any noise. "Y/N? I.. I came home?" He shouted. Feeling weird like the house got colder and quiet. His heart still beating like crazy he rushed to your room only to be faced with a tidy bed, empty warddrobe and empty studying desk.

This was a cruel joke on him right? You were joking, pranking him to make him regret for not telling you sooner it was for a mission right? His hand covering his face as he falls on his knees calling out your name a few times before breaking down.

Looking around trying to find anything that belonged to you, walking inside the house he spotted a letter.

My beloved lover,

I had to leave our home because my heart was hurting too much. Sometimes, I saw things that made me scared—little moments that maybe meant nothing but felt big and heavy to me. I've always struggled with feeling good enough, and these fears made me feel even smaller.

Leaving wasn’t about anger; it was about being so overwhelmed by sadness that staying felt impossible. I never wanted to run away, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe I wasn’t what you needed.

I'm really sorry for any pain my leaving has caused. I hope one day we can understand each other better, but for now, I need some space to work through these feelings.

Take care,

[Your Name]

That was it, you left without giving a hint where you went. Guilt eating alhaitham up. For him you were perfect, you were everything he needed. Even your silence made him happy and peacefull. He was never good at showing his emotions and expressions but when you were with him he felt like he didnt need to force himself. You understood everything about him.

He lay down on your bed, a faint scent inhaling as he slightly squezzing the letter in his hand. Murmuring your name, begging to the teyvat to bring you back to him.

[covetyou]

when we begin again

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (reader was paying a debt, less so now), oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, thigh slaps (three small ones), small description of a hand injury, cumplay/cumshot/cum marking, praise kink, maybe Joel has a bit of a pain kink idk, possessive slutty Joel, derogatory names ("whore"), drug reference, unspecified age gap word count: 4.1k summary: He wasn't one to lick his wounds, but after a deal gone wrong Joel finds something he'd much rather put his mouth on.

A/N: and here we be, the first of the SWAT oneshots that serves as a sort of bridge between the main series and the few ideas I have brewing and ready to go. This is a whole re-write in less than 24 hours because the original fic I was almost finished with felt too me and not enough SWAT. no one needs sad girl monologuing about life and death and grief with their porn. you're welcome.

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"Hrrrmph!"

Joel's lips crash into yours the moment you step inside. One moment he's running an anxious hand through his graying hair, and the next he's making quick work of the space between you, striding across the floor to grab you and plant his lips firmly on yours.

It's not what you'd come here for, funnily enough. You wanted to talk and, glorious as it was to have your lips against his, you couldn't talk like this.

Wretching yourself away is stupid. After everything you know it's stupid, yet you do it anyway.

"Joel -"

Cupping your head in his hands his lips find yours again before you can get another word out, teeth knocking together as he licks into your mouth, and you briefly lose yourself, turning to putty in his arms, ready to sculpt into whatever he sees fit that day. Before the bonelessness takes hold completely, you pull back once more.

Searching his face you look for the sudden need, the sudden rush, the desire to kiss you and have your face in his hands that hadn't been there any other time until now. You see nothing, his dark eyes refusing to meet yours as his hands find themselves at the front of your pants, deftly unbuttoning them before you can even question him. Before he can unzip them, your hands find his, holding him gently in place.

Joel freezes, hands stilling on your zipper, and he pulls a small, sharp breath of air in through his nose as if you hurt him, wounded him by daring to slow him down.

"You want me to stop?" he growls.

"No, I just -"

"Then quit your complainin'."

You do. Briefly. Until the zip snags as he pulls on it again and he curses in frustration.

"Let me do it." Until last time, which wasn't really like any other time, he'd always asked you to strip yourself, made you strip in front of him before he touched out. His clumsy hands on your clothes felt alien, and as it was he was being too slow, even in his desperation.

"You not want me to touch you or somethin'?" he snaps, frowning down at your pants now as he fiddles with the zipper, trying to get it to budge.

"I never said that."

"Then quit your fuckin' complainin'."

And this time you really do when you finally see the tremble in his hands and the blood on his knuckles, and it occurs to you that maybe you did hurt him, that grabbing his hand to stop his frantic movement caused him pain.

Joel hadn't been in a rush before you got here. He'd been the opposite, pacing the floor, willing himself to slow down, calm down. And it had been working - each turn he could feel himself relaxing, all the pent up energy from a deal gone to absolute shit steadily leaving his bones. But your delicate knock on the door had sent his blood boiling in a different way. He'd fought with himself to ignore it, to tell you through the door to fuck off for another day, but the idea of something warm and wet and compliant to soothe his aches and pains was too enticing to pass up. Making you in particular moan and writhe and give in to him was even more impossible to let go. In the end, the door had practically let you in all on its own.

So when his hands pull at your zipper again, yanking it in frustration, you will it down, beg with your mind for it to not snag again, and you sigh with relief when it doesn't.

In one fluid movement your pants are unceremoniously pulled to your knees, and Joel is crowding you back against his dining table, rough and aching hands on your hips to guide you. Your exposed ass collides with the solid wood, and he's pressing into you, the hardening lump in the front of his jeans poking into the softness of your belly. You can feel the frustration in him and how it twitches through his fingertips, swells in his cock, and each time you feel how the need wins out over frustration as he grinds into you, latching him onto you as his veins hunt for some kind of relief.

Another yank of your jeans and he's pulled them to your ankles, stepping on them as he pushes you to sit on the table. Your jeans stay behind, dragging your shoes from your feet with a dull thud, and Joel kicks them away. Winters in Boston are bitter, none moreso than this one, and your frozen ass barely registers the feeling of the wooden surface as you sit on it, still kitted out in your hat, coat and gloves. When you move to pull them off his hand pushes between your breasts, knocking you back onto the table. A second later there's a harsh scrape of a chair across the floor and, just as you manage to tug one glove off, he's yanking you down the table toward him.

You sit up and look down where he sits between your legs, enraptured by the softness of your skin beneath hands that glide up and down your thighs, gripping and squeezing the soft flesh more gently than the wounds on his knuckles suggest he's capable of. He's holding off, you realize then as you watch his hands, trying to slow himself from taking what he needs.

Tossing your hat to the side you lift your hips, shimmying your panties down just enough for Joel's fingers to work them down the rest of the way. Sitting back in his chair he looks between your legs, and you know that he can see what you've been feeling since you stepped onto his street. By this point, the response was Pavlovian. Each step closer to Joel's apartment you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your cheeks feeling hotter and hotter. You wonder if one day he'd stop having this affect on you, or if he'd stop responding to it exactly how you knew he would, but with a knowing quirk in his brow, you know that day is not today.

"Fuck me, sweetheart. You sure no one else been down here today?"

Shaking your head, you manage one more look at him before he's pulling your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and diving into your slick folds with a firm lick.

"N-no," you gasp, bucking slightly into his face with your legs spread over his broad shoulders. He should know that you haven't, that you wouldn't, but you think he just needs to hear the confirmation, needs to know that this thing in front of him right now is just his for the taking, and so you let him have it. "Haven't even touched myself today."

He moans into your cunt, cold nose pressing into the softness of your mound as his tongue laps and laves you. With a slurp, having cleaned up the arousal that had leaked out of you on your way here, he looks up at you, ticking his head to the side and nodding down to your bare pussy. "Well, shit, looks like all o' this is just for me, huh?"

There's no air left in your lungs for you to respond when his tongue circles your clit and makes you groan into the cold air. Whatever he needs, if this is how he was going to take it, you were damn well going to let him take everything you had.

And so, pinning you to the table he begins to devour your cunt, licking messily all over you, coating you in his saliva. He pulls you open with his arms hooked over your thighs, spreading your lips further for him. The chill hits you for just one second when you're fully spread to the cold air, but his mouth soon descends on you and all you can see are his eyes and the curve of his nose, his mouth hidden as he buries it into you.

You shuffle your jacket off, the room suddenly feeling much warmer than when you first entered it, and earn yourself a small slap to your thigh, making you squeak out a yelp of surprise, when Joel's mouth involuntarily pulls from your cunt.

"You gonna keep still? Or you gonna keep fuckin' wrigglin'?"

You shift again, biting your cheek as you test him. Channelling his energy into eating your cunt is working wonders for him and he seems calmer already, but that doesn't stop him lightly slapping your thigh again, shooting a warning look up at you.

"Got a way to keep you still if you can't fuckin' do it by yourself, sweetheart," he warns and, as if sensing you're about to test him again, he unhooks one arm from you and pushes a finger straight into your wet heat.

You moan, gasping again when he sucks your clit for good measure.

"Huh?" He's coaxing you, trying to get you to wiggle again and earn yourself another surprise. Not one to push your luck you simply moan, letting your back arch slightly when he begins to move his finger inside you. "What was that?"

"Fu-nothing. Just - fuck - so good."

You mind is liquid, seeping out of your ears and making a mess of your jacket when he licks you again, dancing the tip of two fingers around your entrance before sliding both into you. If it hurts him, he doesn't let on, but you can tell it does something to him by the groan he makes into your cunt as his fingers curl in you, making your walls clamp and twitch around his fingers.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Like gettin' this pussy ate, don't you?"

"Mm."

"Thought so. Needy fuckin' pussy. Not just your mouth that wants to be kissed is it, she needs it too?"

"Oh god, yes please, she needs it too."

And you can feel it, the moment he switches from eating your cunt to kissing it. You know the shapes, the trails he kisses, the way his tongue dances. You'd committed it to memory the past week, made yourself come at the thought of his mouth, the scratch of his beard, the feel of him beneath your fingertips, touching him as much as he was touching you. His mouth and the memory work together then, bringing you so impossibly close to coming you can feel as your moans leave you more high pitched, how you push into him, chasing and chasing that feeling that's right there -

"See," he says, stopping your orgasm in it's tracks when he pulls back, a knowing smile on his face. He pushes another finger into you too, watching as your legs twitch open wider to take him, the rim of your pussy spreading across his fingers with slicked up ease. "Don't even gotta stuff your mouth, just gotta keep this thing right here stuffed and suddenly you're actin' all nice and polite."

There's a brief hope in you that he'll go for a fourth finger, stretch you out across his sore knuckles and ready you for his hard cock, but the hope fizzles away, cast to the side and forgotten, the second his mouth joins his hand back between your thighs.

You're almost there again already, the crest of the orgasm he stole from you a moment ago barely behind you. His tongue laps rhythmically, never ceasing, and his breaths come in heavy, fanning across your folds as he feasts on you, fingers pumping so deep you're sloshing around them. You're hot, so impossibly hot in spite of the cold. You want to shed more layers, bare yourself for him, but you're so close and he's getting you there fast, goading you on with each satisfied groan into your cunt.

"That's it," he mumbles into your twitching pussy. "Fuck that's it sweetheart, come on my fingers."

You can feel it build, Joel's mouth engulfing you and lapping at everything you have to give. The beginnings of your orgasm start to shudder through you, your legs stuttering with every flick of his tongue. Your back arches from the table, toes curling in thick socks as your heels press into his back, pushing him into you. And then it hits you.

The coil in your belly snaps, letting loose an orgasm that swamps all your senses. Held down by Joel's muscular arm and pinned by the fingers hooked in you, you buck into his mouth. Quivering thighs have clamped around his ears, attempting to draw up and pull back as you squirm in his firm grip. You're screaming too, you think, a breathy high pitched shout of his name that you just can't hold back, that gets shakier and shakier the longer it goes on.

And it does go on. Joel doesn't stop, determined to wring from you as much as he can. His fingers are locked inside of you, forced to stillness by the pulsing in your pussy. Still, he can flex them, curling his pruning fingertips into you while he tongues your clit, groaning with each twitch of it beneath his tongue. You know that sound, how it's gotten deeper and more desperate as he's devoured you. It's a sound that tells you he's hard, that he needs relief and will be desperate for it the second he pulls away from you. That thought only makes you come harder, and by the time your cunt has stopped its erratic pulsing around Joel's fingers and you've fallen limp, deaf, and winded against his table, he's already standing, pushing the chair back and letting it crash to the floor.

Dragging his fingers from you he pushes between your legs, pulling his jeans open as best he can, wincing when he rasps his knuckles on the fabric a little too harshly. You reach for him, wanting to help, wanting to be a relief for him like he is for you.

"Let me -"

But he knocks your hand away, tugging down his jeans a moment later, his cock springing free and knocking into your thigh before he can capture it in his fist. It's hot against you, burning and dripping, likely feeling as achey as his knuckles do.

You expect him to plunge into you immediately, to take advantage of the position between your thighs and your pussy still fluttering with want at the sight of him, but he doesn't. Instead you watch for a moment as he strokes himself, the bloody scrapes on his knuckles contrasting harshly with the smooth, solid plains of his cock.

"Your hand, Joel, I can -"

"Fuck, my hand," he growls, resting his unmarred hand on your though to hold you still.

Your legs fall open further, his touch light on your thigh barely applying any pressure to open you up for him. Still, he doesn't take the clear route in, and you're rocking forward trying to notch his tip on your entrance just as the rough scrape of his knuckles drags across your sensitive inner thigh.

"Please put it in me," you finally beg, needing to feel the deep stretch of his cock as it pierces you.

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, you get what you're given and you be grateful. You gonna take it?"

"Yes," you say quickly, following on with a small, "Please."

He groans at your eagerness to please. Making a man like Joel desire you so much he can't help but moan, just with small words and gasps of your own, makes you feel a power you've never had before and your eyes just about roll back in your head.

"Use your hands, show me that hole," he demands, giving you a little space to reach down and spread yourself for him. Your pussy is leaking, still, you can feel the slick spread on your fingers as you spread yourself for him. "That's it, hold yourself open. Fuck she's still twitchin'. Fuuuck. That's it."

His strokes become longer, more fluid, as he stares at your aching, empty cunt. You still want him inside, would do anything to get him there, but the desire in his eyes tells you he's getting exactly what he wants right now, and you almost want that more.

Tilting his head back as he strokes his cock with pussy drenched fingers, his bruised knuckles rub against your cunt with every stroke. Holding yourself open is easy, but keeping your legs from snapping shut each time his fist rubs your clit feels almost impossible. As if noticing, Joel pulls back, looking down where your cunt is spread open for it.

"That's it, keep it open. Good girl."

You know you're glistening for him, he'd eaten you so fiercely his saliva had been dripping from you, mixing with your own slick as you came on his tongue. He can see the evidence of it now, and the evidence of what his words do to you at the tell tale twitch of your cunt at his praise.

You can't take it any more and you beg in desperation again. "Please put it in, please."

It does nothing but earn you another soft slap to your thigh, which he rubs, grabbing the meat of you and squeezing in his large hand as his cock twitches and drips in his damaged one.

"No," he grunts, breath coming in more ragged now. "Want you to fuckin' wear me. Know who's pussy this is?"

"Yours."

"Fuck," he hisses. "Yeah it is. Pussy's mine, sweetheart. Mine."

Gripping your thigh tighter he moves in closer again, his hand bumping your sensitive nub as he jerks so closely you slick up his knuckles, soothing the soreness and jerking your clit in tandem.

"Oh fuck, that's it, sweetheart. Keep it just like that, show me that pussy. Show me," he's saying, over and over as he watches you.

A second later he's looking up, staring straight into your eyes and pinning you there on the table with them. You nod, words stuck in your throat when all you want to scream is for him to come, to cover you in it, to claim your pussy just like he needs, just like you want.

The sneer on his lips tells you he wants it too, and before you know it his tip is pressing firmly to your clit, jerking it with every frantic movement of his fist, his hips thrusting minutely into it like he can't control it, can't hold it back any more. And neither can you. The pressure and the movement on your clit is too much and you're coming again, so soon after the first it brings tears to your eyes.

"Ohhh, f-Joel, pleasecomeonme."

Looking down where he's pressed to you, he hisses a breath in through his teeth, holding it for just one second until it pushes out of him with a deep, shakey moan, cum exploding out of his tip and coating your folds, dripping through you until the last spurt coats your mound and he's left breathless.

You flop onto the table, grateful for the padding your coat offers your bones as you collapse into the wood. He's leaning over you, finally releasing his grip on your thigh and running a thumb across his mouth, cock still in his aching fist. Using the oversensitive tip, he smears the cum into your bare cunt and the insides of your thighs, catching your eyes just in time to watch them turn from glassy to rattling in your head, your mouth in a small O when he jerks your clit with his head, making you both gasp.

"You did say this pussy was mine," he says, letting a small wry smile tug at his cheeks. He pulls back then, letting go of his spent cock to run his fingers through your cum covered folds, scooping up a drop with his thumb.

Leaning leaning over you, he swipes his cum slicked thumb against your lips. You suck on it, tasting him, salty and bitter and sweet and Joel exploding on your tongue all at once. You want to thank him for it, but he pulls your mouth open with his thumb and pushes two fingers in, making you clean them with broad soothing strokes. You're careful not to catch him with your teeth, still aware of the wounds on his knuckles as you taste yourself off of his cum soaked fingers. If his hand looks like that, you wonder what the person on the receiving end looks like - the thought shouldn't make your cunt twitch, you know it shouldn't, that it's likely sick and twisted and wrong, but it does, and you moan around his fingers just has he pulls them from your mouth.

When your eyes flick to his lips, he smirks, knowing what you want without even asking. Cupping your face with his bruised, wet fingers, he makes you look at him, waits for the desperation in your eyes to ramp up to the point of frustration before he gives it to you.

Just a peck, that's all he gives, soft lips and the tickle of his facial hair so fleeting you could have blinked and missed it, before picking up the chair with a groan and settling back in it with a deep sigh, inspecting his wrinkled fingers. They'd spent so long buried in you the tips are starting to pucker, the ache that your warmth had soothed slowly crawling back down his knuckles.

Your mind is slowly pulling itself together, slowly crawling back into your ears and taking root in your skull again. Joel's eyes scan across you before finding something apparently considerably more interesting on the floor by his dining table.

"Where the fuck you shoppin' this late in the day?" he says with a frown, and you sit up, following his gaze to the floor.

Your pants are in a tangle, a sprawled mess on the floor with your shoes from where Joel had dragged them from your body and there, next to them in a messy pile, is a small stack of cards that you'd brought with you.

"Oh."

Right. You came here to talk to him, to renegotiate your arrangement, before Joel had needed more from you than a chat in that first moment through the door and pushed all thought of conversation from your mind. You clear your throat and square your shoulders, pushing away the last haze of orgasm and look back up at him. "I'm not. They're for you."

With a groan, he bends to pick them up, counting them as he stands and then raising them to you with a question on his lips.

"What're these for?"

"For the pills," you say, like it's obvious, like you hadn't been using your body as payment for months.

"I've already taken my payment," he says with a look to your cum coated cunt. "'n' if you wanna pay me for your daddies pills, you know it's more than this, right?"

"I can take 'em back if you don't want 'em. I just figured we can pay a bit now and, y'know... I wanna come here because I wanna come here, for me, not just for pills all the time." It sounded better when you rehearsed it in your head this morning, but coming out of your mouth now it sounds ridiculous.

He looks at you for a moment, taking you in, sat pantsless and dripping on his dining table.

"Y'know, there's a simpler solution to this than dumpin' cards on me without warnin', right?" If there is, you haven't thought of it. "Stop only comin' by when you need pills." Oh.

"If you want somethin' else, you know where I am. Now, if you don't wanna whore yourself for meds anymore, if you wanna be respectable, then that's fine. I'll take your cards. But I ain't takin' all of 'em. I'm keepin' these," he says raising a few cards up to you. "And you're takin' these," he pushes the remaining ones into your hand along with a small bag of pills he slips out of his pocket and you frown. You already weren't offering him enough.

"Now I get a nice respectable, good girl to fuck, and you get to pretend you're not a whore. Win-win."

"I'm not a whore," you insist, rolling your eyes, even though you know it's not exactly true.

Joel simply shrugs, shaking out your jeans and throwing them on the table next to you before placing his hand by your ass, thumb stroking delicately along the soft skin there, and leaning down toward you. He tilts your head up to face him, his nose catching yours as your eyes meet his.

"Whore or not, sweetheart," he smirks. "Pussy's still mine."

You weren't going to argue with him there.

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

[ch4mpagnedrought]

friendly game

[full series]

mdni ! art, tashi, patrick

summary: pinning two of the greatest tennis players of our future will not work with you and tashi, in fact, you’ve learnt to share your prizes.

deep breaths. you take deep breaths when taking your racket out of its bag, all five fingers wrapping around the grip tightly, that is so intensely watched by two pairs of curious eyes from above in the stands, inaudibly gawking at the way your black tennis dress, sporting a small nike logo above your left breast, flourishes from around your thighs to expose the surfaces of your skin that don’t see the sun very often.

maybe the single most important game at the 2006 US open, between two upcoming tennis prodigies that also happen to be best friends. an oxymoron on the court really, tashi’s in white, you in black, her in adidas, you in nike, her hair in a tight braid, yours slicked into a low bun. eyes are torn completely apart as the both of you travel across the court, rebutting every single one of each others moves like a choreographed dance, the jaws of your audience slacked open. everybody remains paralysed, leaving the squeaks of your shoes and the heavy grunts of your labour to echo across the stands—until hands grip onto neighbouring knees and the final shot is swung.

“yes!” you shriek, throwing your racket to the ground in ecstasy, letting it bounce back behind you and the strings to shrivel from the force. from across the court, tashi heaves with squinted eyes, watching your celebration with parted lips and stepping closer to the net where you meet her—your arms wrapping around each others glistening shoulders and chests pressing firmly against one another, “good game” she tilts her head to whisper her appraisals and you hum a sweet note, flashing her a smile while the two men blink down at you. their minds completely empty apart from a state of euphoria, seeing two of the most beautiful women they had ever laid their eyes on embrace after a game that was essentially life or death. already replaying the erotic extensions of your legs at every side step, hips swivelling and slender arms extending to shape an image from within the deepest depths of their minds.

the same way that they stood completely still and fixated onto the images of you at the celebratory party hosted for you and tashi. the blonde haired boy taking sips of his drink between all the thoughts that expel from the image of you, mid underhand serve, and run through his mind. while the other faces an image of tashi, mid overhead, and tries not to make it obvious that his gaze slips into imagining anything other than what is underneath those clothes she endorses.

even when you notice their toying eyes, approaching you sat knee-to-knee with tashi at a table having just spent the last twenty minutes dancing with one another that hadn’t gone unnoticed by them either, “art donaldson and patrick zweig, right?” their eyes are momentary frozen wide before art exhales an exasperated breath, choking up on nothing. “in the flesh” patrick mumbles, fidgeting with the rim of his coke bottle. your eyes dart from one boy to another, left to right, both of their shoulders tensing as they watch tashi’s lips uncurl from the pink straw of her orange drink, guiding the bottle towards your own lips, pressing the straw into your mouth nonchalantly to share a sip of the beverage, and the sweetness of her lip gloss.

“that, that game…it was seriously breathtaking” art chokes out to the both of you, looking down admirably at you and noticing the small freckles the sun has peppered on your nose that hadn’t been visible from the top of the stands. tashi thanks him, putting the straw back into her own mouth and projecting a mental image of you and her swapping more than saliva into patrick’s mind.

his feet shuffle on the spot, shaking away the thought, “you dealt with the loss much better than i would’ve.” lightheartedly he jokes, gesturing towards tashi and sending her a small smile, “how do you two stay friends?”

“we’ve been friends since childhood,” tashi takes a glance at you, but you’re already looking back, “there’s no bad blood, we learn from eachother.” the palm of her hand flattens on your thigh momentarily, leaning back further into the couch. patrick and art huff, elbowing one another, “just like us.”

they flatter the two of you, showering you with compliments, all while trying to make it seem as if they hadn’t been discussing what exactly they would say to you for the past couple hours, until you and tashi were standing in front of their hotel room door, silently leaning closer to hear whatever was going on inside. “they don’t have time to come here” a muffled voice speaks from behind the door, and another groans loudly.

you and tashi share a small smirk, holding back laughter when she knocks on the door to hear a sudden ruckus.

“hi” “hey” they sing simultaneously, mouths agape like two little dogs, panting at the sight of a treat, or drooling at the ring of a bell. neither you nor tashi even have the time to greet them, patrick opening the door a little wider and beckoning you inside, coming together on the floor of the questionably coloured carpet with a single can of beer in the middle.

patrick leans back onto his hands. “so, when did you two become friends?” tashi points a finger between the two, wrapping her arms around her knees and tilting her head in curiosity. “we’ve been bunkmates since we were twelve” he answers, and art glances down at his crossed legs with a nervous smile. you nod your head, whispering a small “cute” under your breath and brushing patrick’s wrist with your fingers when taking the beer he offers, making the hairs on his arms stand upright. the beer is warm and bitter, and you pass the can to tashi after leaving a wet imprint of your lips that art would try to discreetly swipe his tongue over only moments later.

“you share girls often?” you ask and patrick’s brows quirk up, corner of his mouth tilting upwards. “this is our first time.” art says, pinkish blush spreading across his nose and the apples of his cheeks that implies his mind is drifting somewhere else. “why? are we not your type?” tashi laughs, leaning over towards art and tucking her hair behind her ears, his eyes following her closely, “aren’t you two everybody’s type?”

the boys shift in their positions, patrick lifting his hips up into the air briefly to get a little more comfortable and art pressing his hands into his knees, sharing a glance between them. all of the breath you exhale meshes into a palpable energy, and your gaze switches between art and patrick in a way they’ve already grown to love, their faces twitching with an eager awkwardness, “are you each other’s type?”

art chuckles out, “no…no.” he denies with a head shake, patrick peering over his shoulder at him silently, “no, we’ve never done anything like that.”

your’s and tashi’s eyes meet briefly, lips turning up into a smile.

“well…” patrick begins and art immediately jerks his head towards him, hoping that he wasn’t about to say the one thing he didn’t want to share, “i mean…”

“patrick, no.”

“don’t be shy, you have to tell us now” you tempt, a playful glint in the glance you give art.

patrick clears his throat, “you know, i just, taught art how to jerk off” he explains casually art’s right of passage while he holds his head in shame, painting an image of him being covered in his own ejaculation, over his stomach and legs like he had just “spilled milk” all over himself.

“that was a really adorable story” tashi hums, placing a hand on your shoulder to hoist herself up from the floor, and reaching out to help you up too. two pairs of eyes follow you around intently, admiring the tips of your fingers that swipe over various objects in their hotel room and feeling a little embarrassed about how obvious it is that they cleaned it only around 10 minutes ago. random pairs of boxers making an appearance from underneath the two single beds that they had pushed together, and an alarming amount of cigarette ash on the surface of the drawers.

tashi’s hand finds your wrist and guides you onto their bed where you take a seat patiently, criss-crossed, waiting for one of the boys to catch on and join you, while they are utterly immersed in the idea that the two of you are real and really in their bed.

silently, you usher them towards you with a tilt of the head, both of them jumping to their feet, basically leaping onto the bed so all four of you make a square, knees very slightly brushing against one another. theres a silent anticipation, tension weaving around all of you and luring your bodies closer. you take a quick look at each of their faces, their dilated pupils and irregular breaths, and move your lips closer to art’s, watching him inhale deeply like he wants to take all the air from your lungs for himself. then patrick, that selfishly attempts to lean his face closer before you can pull away.

you look towards tashi, who inches her face closer to yours, lips parted slightly and meeting in the middle for a kiss. in your peripheral vision, it’s hard not the notice the way that art and patrick are restraining themselves from punching a fist into the air out of joy, loud and shallow breaths caressing your cheeks. your mouth opens wider, leaning in deeper to consume every part of tashi’s lips in a hungry craze while her hand reaches into your hair to pull you closer. the two other men that keenly wait had slipped out of mind, still staring with a captivated stillness when you pull away from one another.

all you have to do is lean back onto your hands for art to pounce onto the side of your neck that becomes exposed, while patrick leans in to plant a kiss onto tashi’s jaw. on the surface their lips travel across the curve of your necks, heads fallen back, suctioning until they can taste the flavour of your perfume that lingers on your skin, while your hands exchange messily beneath; art’s touch feathering on your arm and reaching for tashi’s shoulder, and patricks arms intertwining with art’s to extend and touch your’s and tashi’s thighs.

patrick nuzzles his lips into divot the beneath tashi’s ear, journeying across her shoulder and onto your own in one smooth line, nearly head-butting with art when he shuffles to grace tashi with the same tender attention.

your hands scrunch into patrick’s dark hair, body involuntarily aching until you draw him closer to your face by the chin to connect with his lips. he balances himself in front of you, planting his hands at your sides to allow him to move even closer to you all while tashi hums into art’s gently mingling lips.

pulling back from patrick, you move onto art’s swollen mouth that glistens with lip gloss, tasting the remnants of tashi and yourself on them. all four of your faces coming together in the middle, so close that there is a dangerous lack of oxygen.

tongues pressing flat on top of another, swiping over bottom lips to feel every ridge and an accumulation of hot air. you become lightheaded at the different hands that grope over your figure, being pulled in by the back of your neck. there’s a contrast in the way each one of them kisses; tashi’s lips are familiar and firm, patrick’s are similar in their starved manner, and art’s yearn to take every molecule you are made of and ingest it.

tashi catches on immediately to the way that your left hand squeezes hers and pulls back to leave only art and patrick breathlessly grasping onto the others torso, noses pressing against each other at every tilt of the head and tongues slipping astray. the moment is only short, you and tashi glancing at one another, unbothered at whether they have noticed that you’re gone or secretly fulfilling a guilty hankering.

“okay.” tashi says, slapping her palms across her legs and sending a smile at the two boys. bottom lips slicked with one another’s saliva they remain frozen, only inches apart.

“goodnight, we have an early morning tomorrow.” you buzz, patrick and art separating only to let you slide past them on the bed, tashi following close behind and you wrapping your arms around her bicep absentmindedly.

neither one of them are able to make a sound, mouthing a “goodnight” that isn’t audible, admiring the way both of your curly brown hair sways behind you, walking out in the matching shorts they wonder if you ever swap.

they look at one another, then at the imprints in the floral blanket that your bodies left, scrunches where exactly you sat that they are both ready to smush their faces into. all while you and tashi stand outside of their hotel room once again, tuning in to the muffled dialogue about art’s grandmother before scurrying down the hotel hallway—hand in hand.

[potatoplace]

You Can Have It - Chapter 1

Alpha!Feysand x Omega!Reader

chapter 2 | series masterlist

Story Summary: You've been a baker for 75 years, and are finally moving on from the Winter Court to the City of Velaris to start your own bakery after your grandmother passes. After your grand opening, the High Lord and Lady of Night become daily visitors to your bakery for months, every day having your most popular pastry- one that increases fertility for a short time. All the while, the two alphas want nothing more than to call themselves yours.

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, death (brief and non graphic), most likely a LOT of future smut, this is a pregancy plot fic so keep that in mind

Words: ~4.2k

*Reader is a half peregryn, half high fae, presenting as a peregryn with white wings, with white blonde hair and ice blue eyes from her Winter Court father

*Title taken from Chelsea Cutler's 'You Can Have It,' I feel like the general vibe of the song works well with how Feysand will react to reader (with less alcohol)

Author's Note: It's heeeere I'm so happy! No Feyre or Rhys yet, but we'll get there in the next chapter or two. I'm so excited to build up the bakery and upstairs apartment, and the grand opening will be fun! I hope you guys like this chapter.

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

“I love you, Nanna. I’ll never forget you, and all that you taught me. I will miss you so, so much. I’ll see you in the next life, but you go have fun for now. Go make all the pastries that you ever dreamed up, bake and make people happy, just like you did here, Nanna. I love you,” you whispered as your grandmother’s chest stopped moving, her soul leaving with her last exhale. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed her hand one last time.

“Y/N, we need to move her,” Viviane said softly from behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder while avoiding your wing.

“I know,” you sighed, squeezing your Nanna’s hand one last time before standing. She led you out of the room and out of the infirmary altogether, taking you from the place where you had spent months tending to your grandmother as she slowly died, a curse that was spilling through her veins for so many years.

“Have you packed everything yet?” Viviane asked you as the two of you walked back to your quarters near the kitchens.

“Everything besides what I use daily, but it shouldn’t take me more than fifteen minutes. Are you still willing to winnow me?”

“Of course, Y/N. I wouldn’t have anyone else do it, not after all you’ve done for us,” Viviane reassured you with smile. The two of you were already at your room, and Viviane stood in the doorway as you packed up the rest of your things. “You know you could go to one of the villages nearby, or even have your own shop in the market here. You don’t have to move out of the court…”

You sighed. The two of you have had this conversation multiple times, the outcome always the same: you’re still leaving. “I know, Viviane. And I would stay, if… if everything wouldn’t remind me of her. She’s been my only family for the majority of my life, the reason I lived here, knew you in the first place. I can’t… I can’t see her ghost around every corner, right now.”

“Well… If you ever want to come back, you know we’ll be happy to have you, no matter what. And don’t even think about trying to repay us, I will have Kallias send the gold straight back to you if you do,” Viviane said as she watched you. “And you promise to write to us and let us know when you’re ready for us to visit, yes? Your shop does not even need to be open for us to visit, your company is worth the travel.”

“Yes, Viviane, as soon as I feel settled I’ll write you for a visit.” You had finished packing, your belongings fitting in two leather travel bags. All of your life you had rebuilt in the past six years was now contained to such a tiny space.

You took one last, longing glance around the room that had been your home for the past six years, and the first twenty five of your life as well. So many memories, most of them happy and including your grandmother. Loosing a sigh, you finally turn to Viviane and pick your bags up.

“I’m ready.”

Viviane came to your side and grabbed your arm, and then the two of you were slipping through the fabric of the world, making a few quick stops between the Winter Court and your destination. Your new home.

Velaris, the City of Starlight.

In the five years since the victory against Hybern, the city had been opened to visitors and, in select cases, new citizens. You were lucky enough that Viviane is friends with Morrigan, and that you were employed by and friends with Viviane. She was able to secure you the right to move to the city, and a business license that was cleared pending an interview with Morrigan on your arrival. In less than a minute, the two of you were outside of a cozy looking townhouse, set on a busy residential street and near the river that split the city in two. There was a thin layer of snow covering the ground, and the city looked like a winter wonderland.

Viviane raised her hand to knock, but before she could the door had swung open, revealing a gorgeous blonde woman in a red dress and high heels with a wickedly sharp heel that would most likely cause you to topple over. Her scent, cinnamon and a sweet citrus, was calming, and very clearly alpha.

“Viviane! I’m so glad you could make it!” The blonde, Morrigan you assume, embraces your friend tightly for a few seconds before letting her go and turning to you. “And you must be Y/N! Welcome the Velaris, I do hope the city ends up being what you’re looking for.” Her tone was sweet and excited, and her chocolate brown eyes held such warmth that you couldn’t help but trust her.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Morrigan. Viviane has told me so much about you,” you say as you take her hand in yours for a handshake.

“Oh, call me Mor dear, Morrigan makes me feel like I’m being scolded! Now, come in, we’ll get that pesky little interview out of the way and then we can go take a little tour of the city, maybe find you a place for your bakery.”

The two of you follow her inside, and you’re struck by how… cozy and homey the house was. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, what with your opinions on the Night Court having shifted drastically in the past few years, but this was definitely one of the best outcomes.

Hopefully you would be able to find a space to create as your own, make it feel just as if not more welcoming than this house.

“Sit, sit,” Mor says as she leads the two of you into a sitting room, taking your bags and setting them on the floor next to a couch, before taking a seat on the chair opposite it. Viviane sits on the plush couch, and you follow suit, the lower back of the couch perfect for your wings to rest over. “So Viviane tells me you want to start a business here in Velaris?”

You nod your head in confirmation. “Yes, I would like to open a bakery, if there is availability for a new one in the city.”

Mor smiles, and it’s warm, like sunshine. “I’m sure we can find a suitable place not too close to another bakery or café. Viviane has told me you have experience in the baking field?”

You swallow, a lump suddenly in your throat. You’d known this would come up, it was inevitable, after all. “Yes. I was the head baker Under the Mountain for thirty years, after my grandmother had irritated Amarantha one too many times. I was her pastry sous chef assistant for the twenty years before that as well, and I started baking at six years old.”

“And how old are you now?” Mor asked.

“I am 81, currently,” you answered quickly. “I hope that isn’t an issue?”

“Oh, no, no,” Mor shook her head. “I am sorry to hear that you were forced to work for Amarantha for so much of your life. I do hope that you find working in Velaris to be much more fulfilling, and nicer.”

“I- Are you offering me a business license? Just like that?” You asked incredulously.

“Yes, I am Y/N. Kallias and Viviane have both vouched for you, they believe that you are more than capable of running your own business. And they’ve told me that you take care of the baked goods for all of the High Lord’s household. I trust that you will be successful, based on their testimony alone. Hearing that you worked Under the Mountain, though…” Mor paused. “Knowing that, as well, you will be a fine business owner.”

An invisible weight was lifted off of your shoulders. You are a resident and future business owner of Velaris now. “Thank you, Mor. This opportunity means so much time,” you say gratefully.

“It’s no problem, Y/N. Now, would you like a tour of Velaris and to see where you’ll be staying for the moment?” Mor asked as she stood from her chair.

You followed suit, smoothing the skirt of your dress as you did. “That would be lovely, Mor. Viviane, are you able to join us?”

“No, I should be getting back to Kallias soon, we still have a few winter parties to finish planning and he prefers to have my input,” Viviane replied, following you and Mor out of the townhouse. She stepped toward you for one last hug, holding you tightly in her arms until you pull away. “If you need anything, Y/N, write to me.”

“I will, Viviane. Thank you, for everything.” Tears pricked your eyes, even though you know you’ll see your friend again, likely in the next couple of months. “I’ll write to you even if I don’t need anything, too, keep you updated on my life here, Viv.”

She lets go of your arms, stepping back slightly. “You’d better, Y/N. I want to know all the juicy details, especially if you find an alpha,” Viviane said teasingly. The other omega knew how badly you craved to have an alpha, a love strong enough to tie you together and eventually have a family with them. The sex of the alpha doesn’t matter to you, just that it’s someone who understands you, and values you despite your submissive personality and ‘lesser fae’ status, someone that you love equally.

“I’ll make sure to keep you informed on that front as well, Viv,” Mor chuckled, and you threw a playful glare in her direction. “What? I figure you might like to have a friend here, and I have to warn you, I’m a bit of a gossip.”

Viviane laughed, “‘A bit’ is an understatement, Mor. Take good care of my girl, okay?” Mor nodded, giving Viviane a hug as well before the silver haired female winnowed away.

“We’ll leave you bags in the townhouse for now, I’ll come back and get them later for you once you’re settled in your hotel,” Mor says, taking you by the arm and walking away from the townhouse, leaving you no choice but to follow. She took you first to the Palace of Bone and Salt, a commercial area dedicated to fresh and dried meats, spices, baking goods, along with any cookery and bakeware you could ever need.

There were a few shops already that you were dying to go in to, you’d never had much of a chance to pick out your own pieces of bakeware, let alone enough to stock a bakery. There were so many different options that you wanted to explore, but you knew you could wait to lose yourself in the possibilities until you were alone. Next Mor showed you a few shops, ones for clothing items, bedding, shoes. A bar named Rita’s, which she promises to take you to after you’ve settled. Then her favorite restaurant, a small, cozy placed named after its owner and chef, Sevenda. The heavenly smells coming from the windows were enough to convince you to return for takeout later tonight, even without Mor’s enthusiastic recommendation.

And then you were in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. A section of town dedicated entirely to fabrics in every shade of every color imaginable, huge tables covered in glittering gems, an amount of wealth you had never seen displayed so casually before. People were milling about, and you tucked your wings as close to your back as you could manage, not wanting strangers to brush against them any more than necessary.

There were a few shops dedicated solely to custom gowns, their displays filled with gorgeous dresses decorated with intricate embroidery and small gemstones that shined like the stars. You had never before considered wearing such fine clothing, but now you wanted to feel the slip of the fabric over your body, experience how it feels to be dressed like a princess.

Someday. Someday I will save enough money, and buy a beautiful gown, all by myself, you promised yourself as you let Mor lead you across a bridge on the Sidra to the next Palace.

This one was the Palace of Flame and Steel, a district reserved for weaponry, armor, building materials and tools, as well as a few competing construction guilds. Mor guided you to one of them, apparently the one that the High Lord and Lady had trusted to build their new home next to the Sidra.

“Ah, Marcus, I would like for you to meet Y/N,” Mor said, and Marcus extended his hand to you. His scent was soft, pine trees and fallen snow- an alpha. You take it, noticing his strong but gentle grip. Your shoulders relax slightly, wings spreading slightly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Marcus said in a friendly voice.

“The same to you, Marcus,” you reply, a slight dusting of pink on your cheeks. He is rather handsome, for a High Fae.

“She will more than likely be needing your services, Marcus. Y/N here is planning to open a bakery somewhere in town in the next couple of months,” Mor informed him with a bright smile, one that he flashed back at her, and then turns it toward you. Your breath catches slightly in your throat, and you instinctively smile back at him.

“That sounds nice, I always enjoy a new place to eat at,” He said, still grinning at you.

“Well, once I’m up and running you’ll be more than welcome to drop in whenever you want.”

“I’ll look forward to that day, Y/N. Come back once you know where you’d like to build or renovate, and we can draw up some plans together, okay?”

You nod your head in agreement. “I’ll make sure to do that, Marcus. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you Marcus,” Mor said as she led you out of the shop and back towards the Sidra. Once you were a few buildings down, she asked, “So, do you think he’s cute?”

Your face flushed, and you managed to push out an “I suppose…”

“He’s pretty niiice,” Mor sings, still tugging you along the road next to the Sidra. “And he doesn’t have an omega.”

You shake your head at Mor. “I know Viviane mentioned me finding an alpha, but that’s not really my goal at the moment Mor. And I can also find my own alphas,” You say lightly, tugging on her arm as you did. “Also, you move fast, already trying to set me up.” Mor laughed at that, and you giggle a bit as well as the two of you continue walking, passing cute houses and apartments as you do.

“Well, you’re possibly the cutest single omega in the city at the moment, and Marcus truly is a kind male. And you needed to meet him anyways, for any building needs related to your bakery.” Mor stopped in her tracks, holding you in place by your arm. “This, is the Rainbow,” Mor announces to you.

You gaze around, taking in the colorful buildings that housed everything from painting studios to dance halls. You spied quite a few art supply stores and pottery shops as well, everything so beautiful that your eyes couldn’t choose just one place to land.

Mor draws you further in to the artistic section of town, walking more slowly than any other area you’d gone through today, and you had your wings tucked in tight behind you to avoid brushing against the other fae. Your eyes catch finally on a beautiful painting, one of a cosmic green light fall in the night sky, and you stop moving, taking in every brush stroke on the canvas as quickly as you could. It took your breath away, it was such a magnificent rending of something you could only wish to witness.

“Ah, that is the High Lady’s rendition of Starfall this year,” Mor tells you once she saw where your eyes had locked onto. “Feyre is a magnificent artist, she even hosts classes whenever she has the time, if you’re interested.”

You tear your eyes from the painting to look at Mor. “Oh, I don’t think I’d be any good, really. The most my artistic skills stretch beyond baking is for sketches of my baking,” you laughed, turning to continue your tour once more. “And I’d like to get the bakery up and running before I do many extracurriculars.”

“That makes sense, I suppose, but it’s a good thing to keep in mind. Feyre lets me sneak wine in, so even if my painting turns out terrible, I still have a great time.” The two of you were near the end of the colorful street when you spotted it.

The perfect location, right next to the river and on the edge of the Rainbow was a small one story building, a for sale sign in the window. The building looked decrepit, nearly ready to fall down in your opinion.

You pulled Mor in the direction of it, and let go of her arm to walk around the back of the building.

The view was absolutely lovely, the noise of the river soothing to your ears. You stretched out your wings as you closed your eyes and just listened for a moment, ignoring the noise of the people behind you. Snow was covering the open space behind the building, mostly untouched compared to the streets you had been walking on with Mor.

“Would I be able to buy this lot?” You asked Mor as you spun to face her. “This feels like the perfect place- and there aren’t any other cafés in the Rainbow, as far as I could tell.”

“Of course, Y/N. This building just went up for sale, as well, the previous owner retired a couple of weeks ago.”

You smile at Mor, your eyes sparkling brightly. “Just my luck, then. Do you know about how long it would be for the sale to go through?”

“It should take no more than a few days, Auric seemed very ready to get rid of the place. I’ll set up a meeting for the two of you later today, and if it’s not too late I’ll swing by your room and let you know when it will be. But for now, let’s finish out the tour, then I’ll take you to your hotel,” Mor suggested, holding out an arm.

You grab it once more, allowing her to take you to the last Palace in the city- the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, dedicated to more meats, as well fish, fruits, and vegetables. There were stalls with vendors cooking street food, bowls of noodles and burritos that all smelled delicious- you would definitely be coming back here to try something from each and every fae.

While you were well acquainted with nearly every type of baked good and dessert, different styles of cooking were something you hadn’t been exposed to very often before being trapped Under the Mountain. And while there, you were lucky to get anything besides the imperfect bread you would make.

And after all those years, you had just wanted to taste something familiar, so you stuck with the Winter Court fare you had as a child for the past six years.

But now, smelling everything here and Sevenda’s restaurant? You wanted nothing more than to taste every type of food that you could. Perhaps you would even think of new pastries in the process.

Soon enough, the two of you were back at the townhouse you had arrived in front of with Viviane. Mor popped inside quickly, returning with your bags. She passed one to you as she said “Now that you’ve seen the main parts of Velaris, it’s time to get you to your hotel room so you can relax a bit, settle in some.”

You both crossed the Sidra again, right as snow began to fall. You looked around, taking in the sight of glistening snow, your favorite weather in the world, falling onto the beautiful city that you could now call your own.

“It’s beautiful,” you blurted out without thinking. “Does Velaris suit every season so well?”

Mor looked at you from the corner of her eye, also taking in the scenery. “Yes, it does. I have found every city I’ve visited in Prythian to be beautiful in its own right, but Velaris seems to capture the beauty of every season the best. Of course, I am terribly biased, being from the Night Court and all,” Mor laughed.

She stopped in front of a large building, several floors tall with two balconies on each facing the Sidra. Mor opened the ornately carved wooden door, the words The Sidra Inn engraved on it, revealing a warmly decorated lobby. Behind the reception desk was a slim, bark skinned fae.

“Hello, Mor, it’s good to see you,” the female- a beta- said, extending a hand, which Mor shook readily. Then her eyes turned to you. “And you must be Y/N, our newest resident.” You nod your head in confirmation. “My name is Druana, I’m the owner of this quaint little inn.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Druana.” You take her hand as well, fascinated by the texture of her bark skin. “From what I’ve seen so far, your inn feels like home. It’s very warm, inviting.”

The fae smiles at you. “Thank you, Y/N. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room.” You look to Mor, who hands you your second bag.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours, Y/N. And if I don’t come by then, I’ll send a letter telling you what time I’ve arranged for you to meet with Auric. Do you want me to bring anything for you when I do come? Any food, clothing, nesting materials?”

Heat creeps up your neck at the last idea. “No, Mor, thank you though. I should be fine, for now. I’ll see you in a bit,” you said, parting ways with the friendly blonde.

Druana led you up a set of stairs and in front of a room on the second floor. She handed you a set of keys, then walked back the way you had come.

You turned the key in the lock, and opened the door to your new home for the foreseeable future. It was spacious, containing a large bed set against the left wall, a dresser, wardrobe, a circular table with two chairs on opposite sides, and your own personal bathroom and kitchenette. It was all decorated in cozy fall colors, reds and oranges and browns everywhere, and a fireplace against the right wall. Opposite the door was a set of double doors, likely leading out to one of the balconies you had seen from the street. You dropped your bags on the floor next to the bed, and went to look at the bathroom, it’s door next to the fireplace.

It was lovely, a deep tub that you knew would fill enough so that you could sink entirely beneath the water. There was also a large counter with two sinks, a large mirror hung above it on the wall. And of course, a toilet that looked suitable enough.

You returned to the bedroom, walking over to the set of doors and pushing them open.

On the street, you hadn’t been able to see the padded rocking chair and small table, but now that you had, you knew you would be reading in it, protected from most of the snow by the small roof covering the patio.

You went back inside, grabbing a romance novel that you had picked up a couple of months ago, but had never gotten around to reading. You also pulled a blanket from the bed.

Being from the Winter Court had given you a mild immunity to freezing weather, it was much more comfortable to sit covered in a blanket.

Before you went back on the balcony, your eyes snagged on the kitchenette- already laying out were a few boxes of tea. You placed the book and blanket on the bed and walked over to the counter.

You looked through the flavors before deciding on a basic green tea. In a few minutes you had brewed a large mug for yourself, and took it and your book and blanket onto the balcony.

You snuggled down into the chair, careful to position your wings so they weren’t squished or pinched anywhere. The blanket came next, and you wrapped it around your legs and dress as much as you could, then over your right arm.

With your left, you spread the book open, happily diving in to the story about childhood friends slowly growing to love each other romantically.

Friendship before love- that could be nice, you thought to yourself as you read, sipping your tea and looking out over the beautiful view of Velaris in front of you.

And now, most likely, you would be able to meet people who didn’t already know you as the tortured omega baker slaving away for Amarantha to keep her grandmother and Court as safe as possible.

Now, people would know you as the omega baker from the Winter Court, hopefully with a cozy bakery and the best pastries that they’ve ever had.

You lost yourself in the book, hoping the entire time that you would find a love to last you forever.

[yeoldenews]

I don't know how much you think about it, but you wrote a post back in Mar 2020:

"A sincere request from someone who has spent her entire adult life wishing people had kept better records…In the coming weeks and months… RECORD WHAT IS HAPPENING."

That post got me to start properly journaling properly, after trying and failing when I was younger. A majority of it is 'just' day-to-day progress updates on my fiction writing, but there's a bit of stuff about my life, and some briefer stuff about the world beyond. Not a lot, but some. Four (and change) years, and my journal is just short of 186K words.

I remembered your post, seeing today's SCOTUS decisions. I remembered your post, and I remembered a line you'd written: "Are you scared to death? Write it down."

I just...I don't know. I just wanted you to know your post made an impact, and I don't know what the fuck is coming over the next week and month and year and decade, but...I'm writing shit down. I'm writing shit down, and it's all because of your post.

You have no idea how much this means to me, and how badly I needed to hear it this week - so thank you. Truly. I am genuinely moved, and so proud of you for your 186k words.

History is made up of the stories people decided to save - and the first step to making sure a story gets saved is writing it down.

I really, really hate writing. Like more than just about anything. I'm a chronic perfectionist, and it can take me a whole afternoon to finish a single paragraph I'm satisfied with. (I spent three days writing this response, and you don't even want to know how long I spend on some of the things I post.) So keeping a journal is not a task I'd ever felt the need to afflict myself with before the pandemic. When I made the post you referenced, my journaling habit was all of ten days old but, against all the odds, here I am over four years later having never (to my recollection) missed a single day.

My daily records of what my cats are doing, and your day-to-day writing progress may not be extensively poured over by future scholars, but for only a few minutes of effort a day we now have recorded hundreds of stories.

And who knows what the people of the future might find fascinating. I'm sure the teenage girl in Philadelphia who smudged the letter she was writing in 1897 because a bee scared her would be absolutely baffled that thousands of people were still laughing about the incident 125 years later.

So much of history, and life in general, doesn't become clear until long after the fact. Historical records are full of people overreacting about events that ended up having very little significance in hindsight, and under-reacting about events they no had no idea were about to change the world. But being able to go back and see what people wrote in the moment, preserving their honest thoughts and hopes and fears, is about as close as you can get to time travel.

Maybe what we fear will come true and we're recording history, maybe we'll look back on what we wrote today and go "phew! that was a close one!", or maybe nothing will come of it at all - I pray it will be the last one, but, whatever the outcome, it's worth writing down.

(Also voting. Please, please vote.)

[churipu]

HAIIII IPIN !!!!!!! can i request gojo, geto, and nanami (separate) having a gf that's really optimistic? just someone who sees the good in everything and anything, and positive at all times! thank SOOOO much !!!!

JJK MEN + OPTIMISTIC GIRLFRIEND

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento x fem! reader

warning. people being mean to u >:(

note. HAIIII ANONN!!! i love this request bcs sometimes i read books, mangas, watch movies, you name 'em and see a certain character having the most positive mindset and i just go must protecc >:( anyways, thank you anon for requesting just after i opened the request box, istg i love all your ideas so much it makes me feel full <;33

GOJO SATORU. absolutely hates the way you try to see the good in people — specifically people who have hurt your feelings in the past. he just wonders what goes on in your mind to just forgive and forget everyone who has wronged you.

you did. but not him.

"baby, that guy called you names when you were in high school!" gojo whines, laying down on the bed, draping an arm over your torso, "why are you still willing to meet him?"

"satoru, he said he was sorry!" you smiled at him, tracing his features softly — the male grumbled but leaned into your touch, "and plus it's not nice to hold grudges, it's been what? how many years?"

a loud whine escapes his throat as he pulled you close, "it doesn't matter how many years it has been, he still hurt your feelings. and nobody does that to my baby," he said, miffed.

you couldn't help but to chuckle, "well, you are coming along, so i have nothing to worry about."

the male grins, "damn right i am coming, he better sleep with one eye open starting from now," gojo threatens.

gojo just cannot wrap his head around your concept of "forgive-and-forget" because you never hold grudges, you forget everything and still talk to people who've wronged you, and you still have the heart to accept them.

as much as people say "forgive and forget", they end up at least holding the tiniest bit of grudge — or even a bigger grudge, right? but you? you don't. you actually forgive and forget.

well — thankfully, not him. he takes his job to protect you seriously, from any kind of harm, including monsters (people who were mean to you) both in the past, present, and possibly the future.

"baby, can you stop hanging out with that one girl? the one who always wears the purple colored eye-shadow?" he asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"hm? why?"

"i don't like the vibe she gives out. it's giving...well...cruella de vil." he murmurs into your neck, nuzzling his nose in content as you went on with your skincare routine.

"satoru," you mumbled, "you can't just judge her by her vibes."

he groans, "but baby, i swear i could just feel it! she's evil," he whispers in your ear.

"satoru."

"okay, fine. just tell me if she does anything to you, i'll give her a piece of my mind (hollow purple)." he mutters out, pouting and upset as you brushed his speculations off.

GETO SUGURU. he loves it and hates it at the same time. geto loves how positive you are against the world — and what more does he need, really? it's you and him against the world at this point, although he feels like he doesn't contribute much to your positive energy (that's what he thinks).

geto thinks of himself as a pretty negative person. and you know. the both of you had a lot of deep talks about everything, including what you both had in mind. and honestly, geto wasn't surprised if he hears you talking about how your life was going smoothly; and his was just a contradiction to what you have.

it's life, people come and go. but geto seemed skeptical of that term, why couldn't people come and stay? he finds it hard to believe that you could be the one leaving him at anytime of the day, and the thought just terrifies the male.

the death of amanai put a hole in his mind that couldn't be closed off, and it fucking scarred him. but you were there for him, you didn't sugar coat words or tell him white lies — you tell him everything, straight to his face, and your choices of words made him feel loved. what else could he ask for?

"'m sorry," he mutters into your shoulder, and his voice comes out a bit muffled.

you brushed his nape gently, "it's alright sugu, you know you don't have to apologize for being sad, right?" you tell him, pressing a kiss onto the side of his head, "it's okay to be a little sad."

sometimes he asks himself if he really deserved you or not. but at the end of the day; you always convince him that he deserved it.

geto hates your optimism sometimes because he watches people trample over you and you brush them off with a smile, it makes him feel angry. he asks himself why you were doing this to yourself? believe me when he tried asking you to try talking back, or putting up a fight.

"angel, you know it makes me kind of sad that you'd let people talk to you that way," he said to you, grazing his finger over your cheek gently.

you shot him a gentle smile, "'ts okay sugu, what good do i get from arguing back to them, really?"

he just pulls you into his embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, saying nothing. god, he just wanted to protect you from the world — why does everyone have to be so fucking mean to you?

"will you be mad if i tell them off for you?" he asks

"depends on your methods, tell me about it."

"threatening them. if it doesn't work, violence." he mutters out briefly.

"sugu, no."

NANAMI KENTO. he doesn't mind it, he finds you endearing, really. a cat getting hurt? he'll accompany you to the vet with it. or a child crying because of a fall? he'll watch you help them without any single thoughts behind.

he just loves how selfless you are. nanami once read a quote, "when given the choice between being right or being kind, choose kind." and every time he sees a selfless act from you — he just kinds of chanted it in his mind, and tell you what, nanami is such a proud boyfriend.

nanami loves how you see the good in everything, a person spilled their food on you? you tell them mistakes happen. a person bumping into you and then blaming you for it? you tell them you're sorry and thought that maybe they just had a really bad day.

but sometimes he couldn't help but to worry over you — someone so positive, bubbly, and optimistic around people who (probably) have disgusting minds. when he's not around to keep an eye on you, he just worries that someone might took advantage of your kindness and throw it out the window.

and he wouldn't be there to stop it from happening.

"ken, i'm going to go out for a hang out. it's fine, i've got my friends with me!" god, the jitters that he gets whenever you mention your friends — he was never really fond of the friends you have now, especially since they were trying hard to earn his attention. he knows they were just using you.

the texts they sent to him behind your back, the shit-talking about you, and everything else. god, he wanted to tell you about it; but he just didn't have the heart to, because he knows it will break your heart.

although nanami told them off quite rudely, defending you — it baffled him to how they still try to hang out with you with no shame after. and he tried telling you about how he doesn't like them, but you tell him it was fine.

"may i come along then?" just the thought of leaving you alone with those people pisses him off to the core, if he can't stop you from being friends with them — he will be with you.

when you agreed, he made it his job to expose them as nicely as he could. and he succeeded, oh the ecstasy he felt when you finally told them you didn't feel like hanging out with them anymore.

(and he ended up showing you the texts).

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[evilminji]

Gold can be exchanged for goods and services (o.o )

Pariah's Keep probably has a shit ton of Precious Goods from various places.

Danny is become King?

If Danny becomes King... then the Zone will somewhat obey him. The Crown and Ring could EASILY tell him where the next natural portal is, where it opens up, and for how long. How many there are. Could probably make a few.

Probably WAS supposed to be making them. Consciously. But, well, Coma(tm).

Would probably count as Kingly Duty to filter and collect. Clean Ecto goes out for souls that remain, a Gateway home for those that wish to LEAVE, so forth and so on.

Effectively, being The Grim Reaper. You don't CAUSE Death. You just guide the way home. If folks so choose.

And that's neat! Horrifying, but neat! And Danny can TOTALLY see how it would eventually drive him completely breakfast cereal fruity nuggets! LUCKILY, he's got a vaguely bro's/Mentor thing going with the ghost who has ALL OF POSSIBLE TIME flowing through HIS head! So Danny should be Gucci!

The headaches suck though.

But WHAT... to do with all this Gold and valuable Space Goods? Most of these aren't even recognized currency on earth! Like the Shells. You could buy a mansion with one of those... on the right planet. On Earth? Pretty paperweight. Hmmmm >.>

Wait.

WAIT!

<o> *points to top of head!* CROWN! It can? Predict and make PORTALS!

Portals lead any WHERE and any WHEN!

:O

Gold... can be exchanged for goods and services. He remembers, holding a gold brick, about to eat so, SO much pizza.

But WAIT! I hear you wondering! Surely, you mean? Within his past? The history and region of space he knows, right? Ha ha :) Nope! Cowards.

Danny is on the alien otter's planet, trading those sweet, sweet Shells for some snacks no human could eat and a shawl for his sister! He's hiding, badly, behind a food stall in the Martian market place. Hoping future hero J'onn Johnes doesn't notice him.

Lying to the Space Cops, bout where his untraceable Space Money came from, on an alien trading satellite. The Green Lantern's not buying it. Oh noooo >.> sudden Fright Knight. Looming Menacingly by the loading doooocks. Everyone's upset! Definitely not related to him! Better go check on that! :) *gets the heck out of dodge* (my king. Please stop using me as a distraction.) (No promises)

But! It's all fun and games? Until your human friends get sick. Like... REALLY sick.

And then you suddenly remember time and space mean nothing to you. One 15 minute flight that way, two doors, a quick flight of stairs, and a literal child's play place slide? You could be in the 32nd century.

That disease is AT BEST, an unpleasant afternoon, there.

Here, your friend could die.

You trade a student two Spanish dubloons. They have no idea what they are. Just like the look of them and know they're real metal. They walk into the pharmacy for you. Don't question your "social experiment paper" lie.

You're back in less then an hour.

The screaming argument about ethics and mortality lasts hours.

She still takes the medicine. Gets better. Won't talk to you for months. Because why does HER life matter more? Why bend the rules for HER? And you can't bring yourself to say what pulses as Truth from both Crown and Ring.

You could because she didn't Matter. Time... would not notice, nor change. She was in no way pivotal to the flow of history, must one more ant beneath its unrelenting march. Mattering only because those who love her CARE. Because one or two little things might change for the better.

But it takes the shine off of it, a little.

Being able to go to the FUTURE. Watch movies and see aliens and humans alike in the crowd. Read books and dance to songs from people who won't be born for hundreds of years. Eat snacks from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. Or the early BCs!

And that's BEFORE other time travelers clock him as That Shopping Guy. The one who keeps popping up... buying things. For what? Unknown. Probably dinner. Half the time it's food. Trinkets. Once it was a really, REALLY nice goat. (His aunt was THRILLED.)

It probably drives Bart crazy. Because NO ONE knows anything about the guy? Everyone just universally goes "oooh yeah! HIM! Yeah, he sure does Exsist(tm). Very... present and exsistant." Like that's not CRAZY! He has so many question. So Many! What is he even BUYING!? Why? Is there an order? Or is he winging it?!

*pulls out list* he needs ANSWERS!

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

[pressureplus]

hello!! can i pls ask for headcanons or a lil story abt sebastian coping with the loss of expendable reader he had relationship with? like they knew eachother long enough and had a lil sum going, and out of the blue reader gets really hurt and dies in sebs arms (doesn’t come back either like how u would in the game, ik some stories follow that) need that angst !!!

(keep up the amazing work also!! i love ur guys stories and hc :3)

Thank you, all of your support means so much to us, we're so happy you guys like our work!

Anyway, here, have a little angst in the form of some Headcannons! I turned the angst on this one aaaall the way up for you by making you not only a lover, but literally the centerpiece of this man's life, he was OBSESSED and COMPLETELY IN LOVE with you to a crippling extent ❤️

Sebastian Solace Grieving Headcannons

Warnings: Death, Grief, a mention of injury as a metaphor, and the light implications of Suicide

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

• When you passed, it didn't feel real to him... It still doesn't.

• You'd been in his arms when it happened, his large, clawed hands clutching you like you were slipping away from him- and you were.

• He had begged you not to leave him here, pleading and bargaining like it might keep the light in your beautiful eyes for a while longer

• But it was to no avail. Now, he is alone.

• He doesn't talk to the expendables anymore, shutting everyone out was the very first thing that he did when he had to wake up in your shared bed by himself that first morning after what had happened

• He knows you wanted him out of here, and it's the only thing that keeps him alive most days

• That and the need to put an end to HADAL the way that it put an end to you.

• He blames the company, yes, and he definitely blames what or who actually killed you, but the rest of that guilt rests on his own shoulders

• "I should have been there... I should have done something to stop it."

• "Why is it I could only cry?"

• "I don't even know what I'm going to do now that you're gone, Y/N..."

• "Please... Please come back?"

• Doesn't see a future for himself anymore, now that he knows what it is to have you in his life, he just doesn't want anything else

• His existence is solely for spite and for vengeance, now, no point in attempting to move on

• Is more aggressive, generally, to an extent he will get hostile with people more often and even become an active threat to anyone that enters the shop without actively purchasing something from him

• The thought he may grow attached to someone again is one that haunts him, he will be having absolutely NONE of that ever again

• He's a broken man

• Sometimes, he dreams that he can hold you the way that he knows you used to like, and he gets to lay in bed when he wakes up remembering how sweet it was to kiss you and how wonderful your laugh used to be

• He'll lay awake and miss you... But the reminiscing is the only time he's even close to happy anymore

• It's an abstract sort of closeness, the comfort he finds in allowing himself to linger in your memory the only real ease that he takes anymore

• It's a fresh wound that he seems to genuinely enjoy leaving to bleed, definitely not a healthy way to brew in his ever growing sorrow

• The long, long months he spends in the Blacksite alone are empty and void of what little life they'd managed to have before. The color in everything is drained out like the hope that he'd managed to hold onto for so long

• When he eventually leaves and leaks the information that actually DOES end up avenging you, he watches HADAL fall to ruin, unable to get their prisoners anymore and unable to continuing to stay upright for it

• Watching that place burn brought him some peace, honestly, but it just wasn't enough. Nothing was ever going to be enough without you

• He only has one thing left to do. He knows there's really only one thing left he can do for you.

• The public will find his body strung over a gravesite with your name on it the very next morning after everything came to it's close on his plans, a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a newspaper with an article on HADAL's corruption on the cover, and whatever little treasures you'd given him over the years in his still, clawed hands

• And for the first time since you left him:

• Sebastian is smiling.