#going through mouse withdrawal

[mousemannation]

this is my favourite photo of mouse man btw.. if u even care.. it is from 2021

[rome-roy]

finished my house rewatch… fukcing bereft. come back to me…. that’s my emotional support vicodin addict

[keferon]

Guys. Hear me out.

Remember when in Cyberverse everyone got their minds transferred into fake artificial digital simulation of an infinite fucking parade while their bodies were imprisoned? Now. Imagine Shockwave trying to pull that kind of move on First aid.

Under the cut:)

First aid feels wrong.

Which isn't weird, but this kind of wrong is brand new. It's not nausea from drugs or weird withdrawals after neural connection. It also doesn't feel like a concussion.

It feels like he's a lab mouse running through a maze.

There's the cheese. There's the electric shocks. There's no way out and never has been.

He thinks it might be the fault of Pharma's new drug. Or his fucking pilot position is finally eating away at him, or Vortex is finally done playing with him and just broke his brain.

There are people running around him, each of whom definitely knows what their place is and where they need to go. Everyone has a purpose and a position and some important job to do. They hardly even talk to each other, just nod and run on.

Amazing synchronization.

First..Felix feels like a kid lost in the mall.

He has. He has to do something, right? What does he need to do? Fuck. What day is today anyway?

He heads over to the schedule board and stares at it like an idiot for a couple minutes. It's Tuesday. The work day is in full swing. All the shifts are here. But he doesn't recognize the names of the employees. All the pilots are accounted for, but his name isn't on their list.

Must be a mistake?

He turns away from the board and looks around the room once more, this time more carefully. He just needs to find someone to ask. Preferably someone familiar.

He can’t recognise anyone.

The feeling of strangeness doesn't get any less.

The uniforms on the people around him are similar. But not the same.

The badges are all another color.

And he's surprised by this, but at the same time some part of his brain tells him that it's all familiar and he's seen it before.

“.... then I thought, we could do something different, you know?”

Felix flinches as Swindle and Onslaught walk past him. They are clearly in the middle of some sort of discussion and don't notice Felix staring at them.

Swindle is wearing a pilot's suit. Onslaught is wearing one, too.

Screw the weird schedule. THIS is wrong.

Onslaught frowns, but when he opens his mouth there's a strange amused respect in his tone

“You slippery eel.”

Swindle smiles. His smile, Felix notices, is not the same at all. He doesn't look like an actor from a commercial. He looks like a worn-out but proud of himself man.

It's wrong, but he's seen it before, it's strange but it's familiar. He wants to go up to Swindle and ask what's going on. He wants to understand the damn schedule. He wants to...

…

First Aid feels wrong.

Which isn't weird, but this kind of wrong is brand new. It's not the nausea from the drugs or the weird withdrawals after a neural connection. It also doesn't feel like a concussion.

It feels like being a lab mouse running through a maze.

You got the cheese. And here's the electric shocks. No escape. Never has been.

It's all the same.

He's not sure where he's going. Everyone around him seems very busy. Running about their own business, not paying attention to him and--

What is he supposed to do? He can't remember what day of the week it is. Shit. Is it Tuesday? He can't remember.

Does he need to find a schedule?

Everything feels weird.

By the schedule board, he almost crashes into Swindle.

“...You realize, if we can both get out of this shit, we can get others out too.”

Onslaught...still looking strange in his pilot suit instead of his usual uniform. Swindle pokes him in the side with his elbow as they both walk past Felix, completely ignoring him

“You just. Think about it. Even if you can't fire Offy from the pilots, you can at least free him from these disgusting experiments.”

Felix wants to go over and say hello. Politely and unobtrusively. And also kindly ask, “what the hell, boss?”

But you see it every day, his brain tells him. Have you forgotten?

It makes him feel wrong.

Here's the board, here's the schedule, just lift your stupid head up and see what you're supposed to be doing.

He looks at the board. It's Tuesday. It's dumb sheets that don't have his name on them. He wants to go up to Swindle, he should go up to Swindle, right?

…

It's all wrong, but it's a new kind of wrong. It's not from drugs or neural connection. And it's almost certainly not a concussion.

He's feeling.... hell, what day of the week is it? Tuesday right? He looked at the blackboard yesterday.

He stops. And makes a titanic effort to concentrate the jelly his head is now filled with instead of his brain.

Today is Tuesday because?...because yesterday was Tuesday? And the day before that, too? This is some kind of trippy shit, not a broken neural connection….

He's not looking for the schedule. He's seen the schedule a million times and he knows what's gonna be on it.

He's not sure where he's even going. The layout of the base is different. Not much, but enough to confuse him. He's still stubbornly checking out every familiar place he can find.

He doesn't get it, he doesn't get it, he doesn't get it, he doesn't get it, he doesn't.

He still doesn't see a single damn familiar face.

Ambulon's gone, Pharma's disappeared somewhere too. No Tailgate or Wheeljack anywhere to be seen. And the layout is a little different and all the badges are the wrong color and Felix can't even read what's written on them because every time he tries all the letters blend into an indistinguishable blur.

He's trying to talk to someone. Anyone. But everyone either brushes him off or straight up ignores him. It's like he's a ghost or a lunatic or all of the above.

Everything is so familiar, but at the same time it isn't and his brain frantically clings to the last possibly familiar thing.

Vortex. He needs to find Vortex.

Even if it is him who is going insane and not everyone around him. Vortex is insane in his own, unique way, but he won't ignore him. He may get a good laugh, but it's still better than blindly poking around every corner by himself.

First Aid feels wrong.

Which isn't weird, but this kind of wrong is brand new. It's not nausea from drugs or weird withdrawals after neural connection. It also doesn't feel like a concussion....

He snaps at himself. NO. Hell no.

Vortex. He needs to find Vortex.

The hangar looks surprisingly dark. The people look unfamiliar. And another schedule board beckons him to come over and check to see if it really is Tuesday, but he ignores everything and heads straight for his Mech.

Vortex hasn't changed a bit. Even the radius at which people avoid him is exactly the same.

And looking at him doesn't give Felix that fucking sense of wrongness.

He sees Vortex a lot. He just knows it. The thought is natural, in contrast to the others. That's good, that... It may sound strange, but Vortex is the most normal thing he can perceive right now.

He feels like he's grown little wings. His feet carry him up to the open cockpit and he barely notices the steps beneath him.

Vortex is here and he will understand and even if he doesn't, at least he won't ignore him. Vortex gets bored too quickly so he never minds distractions, no matter how absurd and...weird..they…

Huh…

Felix almost climbs into the cockpit, but freezes, right on the way in.

It's empty.

He crashes into that realization like an invisible wall.

The cockpit.... is clean.

It doesn't smell of chemicals or scrubbing agent. There are no thin streaks of old browned blood in the seams and crevices. There are no dents or stains on the edge of the visor.

The cameras are dead still and the screens are off.

There's no smell of stale blood or decay.

There's no one here.

But the back of his neck still tingles with the sensation of someone else's eyes staring at him.

“The fuck do you think you're doing?“

First Aid flinches startled and turns around.

There is a pilot standing a few feet away from him with a cigarette in his hand.

“..I’m..”

“I wouldn't stand there if I were you” smiles the stranger eying him with a suspiciously bloodthirsty smile “those things are glitchy as fuck. Might chop off something important.”

First Aid continues to stand just under the open visor. Maybe it's surprise or maybe he's too used to the idea that Vortex won't cut him in half. The pilot in front of him looks.... geez, where has he seen him???

Has he ever seen him at all? That green suit looks awfully familiar.

And the voice. There should be more mechanical notes in that voice, First Aid thinks. It should have more static and reverb and squeaks and rumbles and clicks and that quiet hum that sounds when the cockpit systems are turned on...

First Aid jumps off the Mech.

“Vortex...?”

The pilot casts him only a slightly surprised look at first, but a moment later recognition flares in his eyes.

“What the fuck....AID??”

First Aid instantly takes a swing and punches him in the face hard enough to send him wiping the dust on the floor.

“You!!!”

“Ha,” says Vortex from the floor. “Hahahahah ooooh Do it again! ”

First Aid kicks him. Vortex laughs like he's been told the world's happiest joke.

He sounds…alive. Alive and human and there’s no metal in his voice and

“What the fuck?”

Vortex stops laughing, but still doesn't get up off the floor

“What's the last thing you remember?”

First Aid still does nothing but stare at Vortex stunned. The human Vortex. Victor? Shit

“Until Tuesday, you mean?”

Vortex hums

”Till Tuesday.”

What was before Tuesday?

Another Tuesday. And another and another and another and another.

Someone from downstairs bangs loudly on the railing and berates Vortex for a safety violation, ordering him to put his cigarette away.

Vortex points his middle finger down somewhere and throws the cigarette over the railing.

Oh god. Oh shit.

First Aid swallows nervously.

“Shockwave...he used something...to control you-Mech...I mean. He did something, I think. I remember I couldn’t move couldn’t do anything. And now I’m in this hhhhplace? I don’t really recognise it.”

Vortex twitches the corner of his mouth and finally rises from the floor.

“Well I do.”

He looks like he is sick, First Aid thinks. He looks sick and he looks human and he has arms and legs and eyes and that stupid curly strand of dark hair sticking out from under his helmet and the dark eye bags.

“The bastard made up some sort of dumpster to transfer your consciousness in while he does shit to your body.”

First Aid clenches his hands together

“But there were two of us in the neural connection. And it took two of us to transfer here too...”

It suddenly dawns on him

“Wait. This base, these, everything. This is what the Mech project looked like in your time?? And Swindle and Onslaught and the staff is different and...”

Vortex raises his eyebrows smugly.

“...Here you are ...you're a human...” finishes First Aid.

Vortex pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

From somewhere below, a loud angry bang is heard again

“Tex, you bastard stop smoking in here.”

“Fuck you, Off,” Vortex yells back.

Then shrugs his shoulders

“I've always been human. No matter how hard Shockwave and his science shithole try to change that.”

He holds out an opened pack to First Aid

“Want some?”

First Aid feels awful. Terrible as if from the drugs, terrible as if from the neural connection. Terrible as if he had a concussion times two.

But Vortex is here and Vortex believes him and even if it turns out they're the ones who are crazy and not the world around them, at least they're crazy together.

First Aid takes a cigarette

“Thanks...”

_______________

Previous

[nastybuckybarnes]

Under the Stars

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: You love the way the stars look, and he loves the way you feel beneath them.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), creampie, kinda size kink, like really minor cum-eating ig???

Word Count: 3K

A/n: Okay so i was supposed to move into my new place on october 1st but I only JUST moved this past weekend so everything has been SO Hectic but here you go enjoy this and please enjoy the lovely soft fluff while it lasts 😌 for my marvel babes - dw, i have a whole bunch in progress right now that I hope to pump out soon!

~*~

"Thought I might find you up here."

You hum, not moving from your spot on the roof of the base.

Ghost walks up behind you slowly, rolling up his mask and lighting a cigarette on his way.

"Wha're you doin' out here alone? Shouldn't be roaming far like this."

You peel your eyes away from the sky above you to glance over your shoulder at him.

"The stars. They are so pretty," you whisper, nothing but awe in your voice.

He nods, glancing up at them, then returning his gaze to you.

"The view is especially lovely tonight."

You grin at his compliment then look back up at the sky.

He makes his way closer to you, close enough that you can smell the smoke from his cigarette wafting on the wind.

Your nose wrinkles and you turn around to face him, looking at the offending item with disgust.

He chuckles at the look on your face and takes another drag.

"What? Not a fan?"

You shrug and look at it for a long moment.

"I never tried."

"Do you want to?"

You think about his offer for a moment and then nod, stepping closer.

Instead of offering you a puff, he brings it to his lips and then presses his lips against yours.

He blows the smoke into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip as he withdraws, and you can't help but cough a little. You stare up at him with wide, hungry eyes, and he chuckles softly.

"How do you like it?" He asks, a new warmth to his eyes.

You smack your lips together a few times then look up at him through your lashes.

"I try again?"

He nods, cocking his head to the side in confusion when you push his hand down and lean toward him.

You press your lips to his, tongue darting out immediately to meet his, to taste the cigarette in his mouth.

He lets out a hum of surprise. It's not like his little mouse to initiate intimacy like this.

He responds by deepening the kiss, tossing his cigarette onto the ground and wrapping an arm tightly around your waist, keeping you pinned to his body.

You tug away after a moment, giggling breathlessly like a teenager in love.

"Dangerous game you're playing, mouse," he growls, one hand squeezing the flesh of your backside.

You only tuck your bottom lip between your teeth and bat your eyelashes innocently up at him. Your hands smooth over his chest, up his neck where you knot your fingers in his blond hair.

His free hand finds your hip and squeezes you tightly once in warning.

"Don't start something you can't finish, little one. I'll fuck you right here and you know that."

A shiver ripples down your spine at his brash words. He's so blunt and to the point and it makes heat pool between your legs.

You give his hair a gentle tug and bring your lips toward his ear.

"Maybe... maybe I want that."

He grins and leans down, dragging his nose over your throat until he finds the spot he wants to sink his teeth into.

A soft gasp falls from your lips at the stinging pain, and he's quick to smooth over the spot with his tongue.

"Y'want me to fuck you up here? Where anyone can hear? Anyone could see?"

Your breath hitches and your eyes flutter closed as you tilt your head to the side, giving him more access to your smooth neck.

"You hurt men who look at me before. Nobody will look."

If he wasn't so aware of how fucked up he is, he'd probably be ashamed of how hard your statement makes him.

Because it's true. He's killed men for looking at you, touching you, and that's not about to change.

If anyone thinks they can look at you like that, while he's ravishing you, they have another thing coming.

And if a man ever feels bold enough to try to touch you? He'll be praying for death by the time Ghost's done with him.

He grips your jaw tightly and forces your head back so he can assault your mouth with sloppy hot kisses, a new fire sparked within him.

You melt into him with a mewl that he devours, letting him move you around and maneuver you in whatever way he likes.

Why wouldn't you? He's your Ghost, he always takes care of you. And you're sure this will be no exception.

He hoists you up, big hands splaying across your ass when you wrap your legs around his waist.

Your arms wind around his neck and you cling to him, squeaking in surprise at his quick movements.

He's unfazed, peppering kisses down your neck as he lowers himself to his knees with you attached to his body like the added weight is nothing. And to him, it might as well be.

He doesn't even want to think about how easy it would be to manhandle you, to break you if he really wanted to.

Instead, he focuses on how easily you accept his kisses, his hands on your skin, his hips rutting into yours when he lays you on your back.

You dig your head into the ground beneath you when he gives a particularly firm thrust of his hips. Your eyes flutter open and you gasp at the beauty of the scene before you.

Your Ghost, his eyes full of fire and passion, is all-consuming, and he's framed by the most beautiful night sky you think you've ever seen.

You could die happily right here.

But not before an orgasm or two.

Ghost kisses his way up to your mouth, keeping you blissfully occupied as his skilled fingers work the buttons of your pants, shoving them down your legs.

He does the same with your shirt, yanks it up as high as he can and slides a big warm hand into your bra, squeezing one of your breasts and rolling his thumb gingerly over your nipple.

You whine against his mouth, hips rocking desperately, and he chuckles against you.

"Eager, are we?"

Pouting, you pull your lips from his and give him your best puppy dog eyes.

"Ask for what you want, mouse."

Some of the heat from your core floods upward to your face, and you nervously toy with his sweater.

"Want you," you murmur softly, sweetly.

"How do you want me? Where?"

Your eyes meet his and you take the hand on your breast and slowly push it between your legs, sucking in a sharp breath at the feeling of his skin so close to where you need it most.

"Here, please."

He hums, nodding thoughtfully as he gently strokes his middle finger through your folds, rubbing your clit absentmindedly.

"You want me to play with this pretty little cunt? Is that what you want? Want me to make you cream under the stars, my pretty girl?"

You nod, squirming on the ground beneath him when he leans back and yanks your pants off fully. He pushes between your thighs once more, eyes stuck on your core, and you whine softly.

"Please, Simon."

His eyes snap up to yours at the use of his first name, and he feels the need to comply. To do anything and everything you ask of him.

He holds your gaze as he lowers himself onto his stomach between your legs, and you can't help the butterflies that fill you at the sight, the idea of what he's about to do.

Pushing his mask up the tiniest bit more, he spits on your cunt, grinning when you jolt, a sharp gasp leaving you.

"Be good f'me, wanna taste you."

He hooks his arms under your thighs, hoisting your legs up over his broad shoulders. One big hand is splayed on your lower abdomen while the other grips the top of your thigh tightly as he darts his tongue out and finally gets a taste of that which he craves.

His tongue works slowly at first, almost experimentally. Tasting you, exploring you in a way that no one else has, and that no one else ever will.

His eyes roll back for a moment, and he groans at the taste of you. Tangy and sweet, everything he never knew he needed and so much more.

Once he's satisfied with his first meet, he really gets to work, flattening his hand against you to pin your hips down as he latches his mouth onto your dripping core.

A soft moan falls from your pretty lips and his eyes lock onto your face, watching intently as you begin to make the sweetest little sounds.

His tongue works over your clit, massaging at first before applying more pressure.

"Oh!" You cry out, one hand flying down to the top of his head, grabbing a fistful of his balaclava. He snakes one hand away to cover yours, wrapping your hand around the black fabric and encouraging you to tug it off.

You keep your eyes shut tightly as you do, following his guidance as he drops the black fabric onto the ground then brings your hand back to the top of his head, allowing you to thread your fingers through his hair.

The strands are soft against your skin and you can't help but give a soft tug, smiling when he groans against you.

He immediately gets back to work, sucking your clit into his mouth harshly, relishing in the squeak you let out.

He repeats the action a few times before bringing a hand down to join his mouth.

Two thick fingers push their way inside of you, gently massaging your walls while his mouth continues its assault on your clit.

Your back arches, yanking on his hair a little bit harder as you grind your hips against his face.

He eases a third finger inside of you, spreading them slowly and stretching you out before he begins sliding them in and out. Each time he plunges them deeper, and you cry out when he hits your g-spot.

His eyes are focused on your face, watching as your eyes stay shut. Pretty sounds fall from prettier lips, and he wishes he had a camera out to take a picture of you when your orgasm washes over you.

Your mouth drops open and your core clenches, squeezing his fingers to the point he has no room to keep thrusting.

Your thighs clench tightly around his ears, and your nails scratch deliciously at his scalp.

Your shoulders shudder and you suck in a sharp breath, a quivering moan leaving you as you rock your hips through your high.

He slowly pulls his mouth off of your cunt, kissing his way up your body, stopping for a moment to pay close attention to each breast.

His tongue flutters around your nipple, teeth grazing lightly before he repeats the action on the other side. He slips his fingers from your heat, leaving only his middle finger inside of you, pumping shallowly.

Finally, his lips meet yours and you can't help but gasp, immediately melting into it. You can taste yourself on his mouth and it only makes you hungrier, more desperate for him.

"More," you whisper against his mouth, rocking your hips into his hand.

He chuckles, pulling away and latching his mouth onto your neck.

"Greedy girl."

He rolls you onto your stomach effortlessly, pushing you onto your knees and urging you to keep your chest on the rough ground.

The deep arch in your back puts your cunt on display, and he can't help but groan at the sight. All sloppy and wet, dripping and drooling for him.

He shoves his own pants down his legs, freeing his aching cock. He hisses at the feeling of the cool air against his hot skin, shifting forward to slide his length through your twitching folds.

You whine at the feeling, digging your nails into the ground.

"Please," you whisper, wiggling your hips back the tiniest bit only to receive a harsh smack on your ass.

You yelp, and Simon's quick to soothe the stinging area, stroking your skin gently before spreading you apart to watch as he nudges his cock at your wet little hole.

You hold your breath as he slowly pushes inside of you, filling you up inch by thick inch, until he's fully sheathed within you, balls pressed tightly against your clit.

Your body trembles beneath him, and he can't tear his eyes away from where the two of you are connected.

He pulls his hips back, groaning at the drag against your tight walls. Your pussy grips him tightly, visibly clinging to his cock as he pulls out slowly, only to push right back in.

The stretch of him is so good, so much, and it makes your head spin.

He's no better.

He has to consciously stop himself from drooling as his eyes stay glued to your tight cunt, the way it clamps down on him. The way he stretches your body to its most intimate limits, and you let him. You ask him to.

His Mouse, soft and pliant beneath him like he couldn't tear you in half if he tried.

The thought makes a sound akin to a growl rumble in his chest, and he grabs you by the back of your neck and hauls you up, pinning your back against his chest.

His head presses beside yours while he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping your body pinned to his as he begins to bully his cock into your small, waiting body.

"Simon," you gasp, grabbing his wrist as he forces every thick inch of it into your snatch.

It's too much too soon, and you're not sure if you can take it. Your poor little cunt is already aching at the stretch of his fat cock, but he's determined.

Your pussy throbs around him, each thrust hitting that sweet spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.

"S-Simon... oh..."

He groans in your ear, pushing you back down and tugging your arms behind your back.

You huff out a heavy breath, pressing your cheek to the ground as he pins your wrists to the small of your back.

He fucks into you harder, faster, getting off on the power he has over you, the trust you've so willingly given to him.

"Wanna feel you cream f'me," he whispers hoarsely, eyes focused on the mess dripping from between your legs every time he pulls his hips back.

You only whine, cunt clenching at his words.

"Tell me who you belong to," he orders, hand dropping from your hip to find your clit.

You cry out softly when his skilled fingers begin rubbing circles around it, the sensation making your toes curl.

"Say it," he snarls, hips speeding up when he feels your walls clamp down on his cock.

"Simon!" You finally gasp, arching your back as your climax washes over you, the stars behind your closed lids rivalling the ones above you.

"That's right." The words are said more to himself than to you as he chases his own high.

He pulls almost all the way out as his cock twitches, cum spilling inside of you, and then he fucks his way back into you, painting your walls white, claiming you from the inside.

Slowly, he stills his hips, leaning back onto his haunches and pulling you with him to keep his cock lodged inside of you, making sure not a drop spills out between you.

You whine at the movement, nestling your ass against his hips and carefully pushing yourself up onto your elbows as you catch your breath.

Tilting your head back, your teary, lust-clouded eyes find the stars once more, and Simon groans when your walls flutter around him again.

Gently, the way he is with only you, he smooths a rough hand over the delicate skin of your back, smiling lightly to himself at the goosebumps that rise.

Eventually, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you up against him again, this time peppering gentle loving kisses against your neck as he slides his cock out of you.

The two of you groan at the loss, and he's quick to drop his fingers to your centre, lazily fucking them into you to prevent any of his seed from leaving your body.

"How you feelin?" He asks, fingers toying inside of your sensitive folds.

You whine, turning and seeking out his lips.

He's quick to give you what you want, kissing you sweetly and softly as if he wasn't fucking you within an inch of your life only minutes before.

"Can I bring you inside? Run a nice hot shower 'n bring you to bed?" He asks against your lips, grinning when you nod.

He pulls his fingers out of your core and pops them in his mouth, humming at the taste of the two of you.

He helps you dress, ever the gentleman, and spins you to face him before he's put his balaclava back on.

You stare up at him with wide eyes as he finally bares his face to you, and you feel awe bubble in your stomach.

Nervous fingers flutter over his face before finally resting on his skin, and he holds your waist as you take your time mapping out the new skin.

You trace over the scar on his lip, the one you've grown familiar with in all the times he's kissed you. The thin few on his jaw, one on the bridge of his nose that faintly drags across his cheek if you look closely enough.

Then your eyes finally return to his, and you suddenly feel shy under his gaze.

"What?" He asks, tugging you closer when you shy away.

You bite your bottom lip and press a kiss to his jaw, kissing up over his cheek and toward his ear.

"Pretty," you whisper, kissing your way back to his mouth and swallowing his chuckle.

His tongue finds yours for only a moment before he's pulling away again.

"Yeah? Think m'pretty?"

You nod, resting your chin on his chest so you can stare up at him, his lovely face framed by the beautiful night sky.

"Very pretty."

You thought the view was amazing before, but now? Now it's something that will stay ingrained in your brain forever.

And you're not upset about that. Not one bit.

[kiame-sama]

Random Headcannons for the TWST Monster AU that I have drawn so far.

Warnings; Ortho and Grim are platonic, yandere, multiple yanderes, yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, virginity mention, Rook has a thing with the Human's feet, Idia is about 9ft (274.32cm) in my AU, antler rack point system/terminology, Lilia is 700+ years old and has seen some shit,

- Riddle has a near instinctual drive to be near the Human he has come to adore because Unicorns and Humans were among the first to befriend one another. Unicorns are driven to be around Humans as the emotional control most Humans have soothe the Unicorns. The Human does not need to be a virgin for the Unicorn to feel bonded with them, but the idea of 'purity' has been upheld by Unicorns for a long period of time. Unicorns can mostly sense a Human's virginity through their heightened magical senses, typically compelling the Unicorn to feel an emotional bond with the Human and a desire to protect that purity their Human has.

- Riddle admires the Queen of Hearts who was a Unicorn like himself. He always loved stories of the Queen's King of Hearts- a meek Human man- who convinced the Queen to show fairness and give trial to those who were accused of breaking laws. From the time he was a foal, Riddle believed that if he ever met a Human, he would make them his King of Hearts and have an unbreakable bond with them the same way the Queen of Hearts did with her King of Hearts. The second Riddle learned there was a Human in Night Raven College, he was already planning how he was going to propose to them and make them his cherished King of Hearts.

- Riddle studied the history of Humans when he was a young child, almost as closely as he studied the rules the Queen of Hearts made. He grew up with a certain prejudice towards Gnolls, Nemean Lions, and other species that ate Humans previously. Most Unicorns share this prejudice as the extinction of Humans led to the realization that a Human's emotional wellbeing actually empowered the Unicorns they lived with, meaning their extinction weakened Unicorns as a whole. Unicorns that had been in the presence of Humans before their extinction actually suffered withdrawal symptoms when the Humans were no more, leading to the belief that Humans were almost addictive in different ways to different species.

- Riddle can barely swim and when he does swim, he is swimming for his life. Some Unicorns are excellent swimmers, but Riddle is not one of those Unicorns. When Riddle was younger he actually fell into a lake and almost drowned. A rather young Trey was the one who pulled Riddle from the water, taking the drenched Unicorn back home for sweets and comfort where he met the Bakeneko Che'nya and the three became friends. Riddle is twice Trey's age, but Unicorns age twice as slowly as most other species, meaning Trey is actually more mature than Riddle despite Riddle being older.

- Leona is a Nemean Lion and Nemean Lions are obligate carnivores, meaning their diet is about 70% meat. He usually eats his meat raw as he is too lazy to cook it, but he has picked up on the scents Ruggie has brought back to Savanaclaw and has wondered about joining the Gnoll for his daily visits to Ramshackle for food. He is aware others don't trust him alone around the Human, but Ruggie is also a species that traditionally ate Humans and seems to get along just fine with the Human.

- Leona calls the Human by the nickname 'Mousey' because he sees the Human to be as fragile as a mouse when compared to his own strength and power. It really isn't worth killing a Mouse for food when you're a Lion due to how small they are and Leona views the Human as the same. It isn't worth eating the Human for the absolute backlash and poor treatment he would receive as a result when he has already received poor treatment from many other students due to the still damaging rumors around Sunset Savana.

- Leona actually told his brother Falena about the Human that first day they fell into the sorting ceremony. Falena was dubious about the authenticity of Leona's claim until Cater's picture with the Human began popping up everywhere as all of Twisted Wonderland learned there was a Human at Night Raven College. The elder brother urges Leona to be careful but to try and befriend the Human as it could only mean good things for their Kingdom and for the view of the Kingdom. He has asked several times for Leona to intentionally take a photo of the Human with the Nemean Lion to create the foundation for a more positive look for Sunset Savana.

- Leona warned everyone in Savanaclaw that first day to not touch or hassle the Human regardless of what the Human may do. He did this through direct treats and displays of power over his dorm to ensure not a thing happens to that annoyingly fragile Mousey. He also threatened that should anyone from the dorm harm the Human, he will use King's Roar on them and erase them from existence for their crimes. Despite how moody he behaves towards the Human, he actually longs to be by their side and wonders how it would feel to be pet by the Human after a long day. He will never ask, but one day he may demand affection from that Human.

- Ruggie tends to be loyal to those that feed him, only sharing his own food with those he deeply cares about. Leona was the primary source of food for the Gnoll and so, Ruggie became a lackey for the Lion simply because the Lion fed him, but it was still not as much or as often as the Gnoll actually needed. Once Ruggie began getting meals from the Human, he actually has filled out a bit more and isn't quite as skinny anymore, having a more balanced diet and hearty meals. Ruggie would even turn on Leona for the Human should they ask him to. He won't be excited about it, and he will be terrified, but he will still do it only for them.

- Gnolls do have a gene for growing winter coats, much like their Hyena counterparts, but he is not a fan of the cold despite that fact. It takes more calories to stay warm in winter- even with thick winter fur- so Ruggie has a certain dislike for the cold. His fur becomes extremely dense and makes him look much fluffier than usual, making it ideal to bury one's face in and take comfort in the thick pelt. Ruggie wonders if he can carry the Human around in winter because they are usually so warm and they may enjoy the thickness of his pelt during the cold seasons as well.

- Ruggie has fallen into the habit of waking early to camp out outside of Ramshackle so he can smell when the Human starts cooking breakfast. Alternatively, he has also started camping out near Ramshackle in the evenings for the same reason. So long as he can keep getting those wonderful meals, he will be able to die a happy Gnoll. Should the Human ever need a taste tester, he will happily volunteer his services and will always be ready to eat more of whatever it is the Human makes. Food is food and food is good.

- Ruggie loves physical affection and yearns to be in a group for both numbers and camaraderie, so anytime he is around the Human, he feels that sense of belonging. He will likely be the first to beg the Human to pet him, melting from the feel of their soft hands in his fur. His tail will wag and if the petting is sublime enough, he may even begin to cackle and whine from the petting. Once pet, he will become hooked to the gentle affection and will become rather needy for continued petting in the future. He is happy to try and pet the Human in return, but he does need to be careful of his claws and it confuses him that the Human is not as enthusiastic about being petted instead.

- Vil is a very proud Harpy and is genetically built to be proud. As a Peacock Harpy, Vil grows long train feathers that he tends to carefully. Stepping on, touching, or otherwise brushing against his feathers will make the Harpy angry with the offending party excepting very few- primarily Rook and the Human- and he will become violent towards those who dare sully his feathers. Tail feathers are saved and used by the Harpy as tokens of affection or approval, crown feathers are saved in a jar and are only going to be gifted to someone who truly means the world to Vil, flight feathers are saved, neck and body feathers are either thrown away or used as stuffing for pillows.

- Vil has made many adjustments to his dorm uniform to accommodate his tail and wings, going as far as to leave large slits in the back of his uniform that allow him to insert his wings into the openings. There are several buttons that run the length of these openings so Vil can button up his uniform around his wings instead of leaving them open and his back exposed. His pants are made with a large opening in the back that can be buttoned at the top to close his pants around his tail without impacting his feathers. He has made similar adjustments to his ceremonial robes and to his regular uniform.

- The purple in his hair and the blue and white coloration on his face are not artificially added. The skin around his eyes has that color as a natural tint, but Vil will occasionally cover it up with foundation to put on different eye-makeup. He usually doesn't cover up his eye-marks as he sees them as his natural beauty shining forth but he will occasionally reshape them with makeup or add a glitter over them to emphasize his features. The purple is a unique color even for peacock Harpies which can actually be attributed to Vil's mother- a Purple Chested Hummingbird Harpy- and his extra color makes many other male Harpies jealous as purple is a rarer color.

- Vil's temper doesn't often show through, especially because he is an actor and has learned to mute his natural reactions, but there are several signs to tell how Vil feels at any given time. When his neck feathers ruffle he is usually in a bad mood or something has irritated him. When his seven crest feathers raise up- as they are typically laying flat into his hair- he is feeling proud or posturing to tease other males. When his crest is up and his tail feathers are up, his wings will spread out and display, this is only in the extremely rare case Vil is showing off for a prospective mate. To date he has only displayed his full feathers twice, and once was on accident, the other was for his Human when he first officially met them.

- Rook has always had a certain obsession with those who are different- either more beastly than others or more tame- and his Human checks every box Rook has for the most interesting being he has met. From the Human's near useless natural weapons to the Human's surprising fragility, Rook is hooked on knowing everything he possibly can about the Human. He has a particular interest in the Human's feet as most other species in Twisted Wonderland do not have feet the way the Human does. Even Vil and beautiful Neige have bird feet and talons instead of these odd feet the Human has. He will try to keep his unusual interest concealed for the most part, but can't resist holding the Human's feet and even petting them as he paints their nails.

- Rook has an instinctual aversion to garlic and does what he can to avoid foods with garlic in them as well as mint and lavender. The scents are very strong and almost overpowering to Rook, so it bothers him deeply when there are even cloves of garlic around him. This being said, if the Human made food with garlic in it, Rook would still eat it and fight every single instinct he has to spit it out. Even if it hurts his stomach and makes him ill, he will eat the food because HIS Human made it for him and he needs them to know how much he adores them and values their skills. Vil is almost disgusted with how down bad Rook is- knowing how much the Drider despises garlic- but acquiesces to the fact that he also has a similar drive to appease and please the Human.

- Rook can spin three types of webbing that all have different uses in his everyday life. First is his sticky webbing which is used to make most webs and to ensnare prey despite him rarely using this webbing for hunting. Second is his nesting webbing which is not sticky and has the consistency closer to silk, used mainly in the heart of his webs as bedding or as a way to keep warm in cooler weather. Third is binding webbing often used to tie up prey and mates alike, stronger and sturdier like rope compared to other webbing. Vil is particularly interested in the second type of webbing as it is ideal for making fabrics that are more durable and breathable than silk. Rook demands that at least one of the outfits chosen for the Human by himself, Vil, and Divus is made from his personal silk. He secretly hopes to make Lingerie from his silk for his Human and hopes they will give him a show while they wear it.

- Rook prefers wild caught game as opposed to meats from livestock and will often hunt his own meals down in the forests around Night Raven College. He often offers these meats to Vil as well despite the fact the Harpy dislikes how gristly wild caught game tends to be. Rook hopes that one day he can catch prey for the Human to cook up, wishing to be a kind of provider for the Human he adores so much.

- Grim has an extremely acidic stomach and can digest most items, even if they are not traditionally considered food items. He can eat rocks and tree-bark but prefers the food his Human makes for him. He has no allergies that he is aware of and has a very large appetite for one so small.

- Every scar was made by a different animal and every scar was a time Grim almost lost his life to one of the other beasts of the forest. Due to his injury over his right eye, he can't see very well out of it and it occasionally causes him pain.

- Grim is considered to be an anomaly as he is more sentient than the other wild beasts of the forests but his magic is more like a wild animal. As a result, Grim cannot use a magestone due to the wild nature of his magic, but he is also more resistant to overblotting as well because his magic is fueled by the magic in the land itself.

- For as long as Grim can remember, he has lived in the forests around Night Raven College grounds. As a result, he has a certain jealousy towards the students he would see wandering around the school grounds. He never understood why they were so special and could go to the school but he couldn't.

- Ortho is 40% mechanical as a result of being attacked by a Feral Overblotted Shinigami when he was young. His injuries almost killed him and resulted in him having to live in a mechanical iron-lung to keep him alive while Idia began crafting his augmented limbs. It is because of these injuries that Ortho has become such a powerful mage as he needs to use magic to fuel the limbs and make them work. This constant use of magic has actually increased his resistance to Overblotting due to the constant magical output and presence of blot within Ortho's body, giving him a resistance to the magical waste created.

- Ortho is the baby of the Shroud family and is often given preferential treatment as a result of this. He doesn't like it. Due to his injuries he has always had a longing for independence that he can't really have given the fact Idia is the one who makes and updates his cybernetics. Ortho is smart for his age, even for a Shinigami, and as such is able to attend Night Raven College with Idia despite the typical school age for Shinigami being 25. Ortho may be 13 and seen as a young child by his family, but he is actually more magically adept than almost every other family member except for Hades.

- The device on Ortho's hip is an O2 and CO2 monitor that adjusts automatically based on how much oxygen is in his blood. He can take the mask off, but he cannot be without it for long as it does help him immensely with breathing and removing CO2 from his body. His lung is an artificial creation made by Idia and almost functions as well as a real lung, but still falls just a bit short of the real deal. Most of Ortho's prosthetic limbs are works in progress as they need to be altered and adjusted as Ortho grows, given Shinigami keep growing throughout their lives.

- Ortho's wings are modeled after Harpies more than the traditional Shinigami wings as Shinigami have specialized feathers that technically should not be able to be used for flight. Similar designs would leave Ortho flightless, so Idia made Harpy-like wings instead so Ortho can still use them to fly. He is sad that his wings are not like the wings of his family, but he understands that Shinigami feathers are quite different from typical bird feathers.

- Idia does not wear makeup. His lip color, eyeshadow and even the gem-like structures on his face are all natural formed. The gem-like structures are actually a result of acne scars because Idia often picked at his face when he was younger, leading the skin to grow back stronger and almost like gemstones. They are rock-hard and shine like gems despite being natural formations of skin and change color with his hair due to having magical qualities much like the flaming hair all Shrouds possess.

- Idia's hair changes color depending on his emotions and it usually takes a strong emotion to make the flames that are his hair change color. The typical fire-red is when Idia becomes heated or legitimately angry usually due to a videogame he is playing or someone is pushing him too much. He learns that his hair will burn a magenta-pink when he is gazing affectionately at his Human while they game, immersed in the story and general gameplay. When his hair burns this magenta color, heart shapes can be seen within the flames. His hair will burn white if he becomes too anxious, the lighter his hair becomes the more anxious he is.

- Idia is aware he is different in size compared to the other students and often skips classes because of it. He doesn't want to be looked at or perceived for too long, hence why he actually waited for Ortho to grow up a bit so he could attend Night Raven College with his younger brother as an anxiety buffer. Due to Idia's anxiety at being looked at, he often will curl up his body and tuck in his limbs while sitting to appear smaller than he is. His hope is the smaller he appears, the less likely others will be to stare at him when they see him.

- Idia's hair is flames and as flames they put out a natural light. This light is less intense than most flames, but it does mean that Idia and others of the Shroud family struggle to sleep. Shinigami don't need as much sleep as most other species and can go days without sleeping, but when they do need sleep, they need eye-cover to not be woken up by their flames. Their hair is water resistant and can continue to burn underwater as it is magical in nature and behaves differently from regular fire due to being Shinigami fire.

- Silver has a three point rack as he has three points to his antlers, so not the biggest rack and not the smallest either when compared to other Cervitaur. He does shed his antlers and even has velvet that he needs to rub off of his antlers whenever a new pair grow in. Lilia is obsessed with collecting the shed velvet and antlers as they are a way for the old Bat Fae to remember his son by. Silver is not Fae and will likely die before Lilia does as a result, so he is indulgent of allowing Lilia to collect the antlers and shed velvet. Silver often leaves home to shed his velvet or antlers because Lilia can be a bit too excited to collect the shed and will even try to take the velvet directly from Silver's antlers before he can get it off himself.

- Silver wields a short-sword and has been trained in the use of a variety of weapons by Lilia to protect Malleus. He prefers the shortsword as it has greater control than a greatsword but has better reach than a dagger. He can often be seen training with Sebek and Lilia in the use of this weapon and will train until he is proficient enough to dispatch enemies efficiently. Should Silver lose his sword, he can also use his antlers to skewer his foes and his legs to kick them as needed.

- Silver is a herd species, and Malleus' Hoard is his herd. He will feel nervous or uneasy if he is alway from his herd for too long and can often struggle to make himself comfortable without at least one member of his herd nearby. Despite this, he can still fall asleep in random places despite how alone he may be even with his preference to be around his herd. He is protective of his herd and will be violent towards those who threaten any member of his herd regardless of if that member is stronger or weaker than he is.

- Silver grew up eating Lilia's cooking and believed all cooking made food worse, not better as a result. Once he tasted his Human's cooking, he actually realized that it was just a problem with Lilia's cooking specifically. He now hopes he gets to taste all kinds of meals and hopes they are all made by the Human he so deeply cares for. He still cringes any time Lilia wants to cook and hopes that perhaps his Human can teach his Father how to actually cook things properly.

- Lilia has had several adopted children over the years, Silver being his most recent adoptee. Lilia has raised only one Human, but he loved his little Human baby and it broke his heart to see that same infant become elderly and pass due to age. He still thinks Humans are precious and hopes that he can cajole this new Human into giving him more babies to raise. If Lilia had his way, he would be raising a herd of half-Human infants, one Dragon halfling, one Cervitaur halfling, one Raiju halfling, and one or more Vampire Bat halflings. He genuinely wants an infant combination from every Hoard member including himself.

- Lilia is sensitive to sound and will often be the first to alert to abnormal sounds due to this sensitive hearing. This also means that whenever Malleus conjures thunder, Lilia will magically deafen himself or dampen his hearing so the thunder does not cause him pain. Lilia takes comfort in hearing the heartbeats of Malleus' Hoard around him while he sleeps and can usually tell whenever a Hoard member is having a nightmare due to their heartbeat. He will often try to groom the one having a nightmare and soothe them back into restful sleep.

- Lilia is second in command of the Hoard and technically has the final say even over Malleus as he is the eldest of the Hoard and has more experience than Malleus by at least 500 years. Usually Lilia encourages Malleus to be the final say in decisions but will put his foot down should it seem like the Dragon is making a poor choice or is acting too closely to his emotions. He is often the one who makes the rational suggestions in a heated moment and has greater control of his emotions due to his age.

- Lilia learned to cook through observation of the Humans he often took shelter with in times of war in Briar Valley. Because he was never officially trained to cook, he is abysmally bad at it but still tries so he can revisit those lovely memories of sitting around a table with a Human family, breaking bread and making friends over a shared meal. Lilia mourned the extinction of Humans more than most and even more than most Fae as he spent so long among the fragile species, protecting them and learning to love the beautiful and kind creatures that were so very different from himself.

[lsunstreakerl]

part ten of the maxiel corporate au! (do I need to change the name? things are getting complicated here. the day I write a clearly monogamist fic that's not the real sunny anymore)

heads up: both explicit content and violence in this one. the violence is somewhat mild, but it's still there.

it's the daniel and rico section, obviously, which is how this ended up being 3k. whoops. Max POV, Daniel POV.

Max double checks the list in his hand, waving behind him as he steps into the elevator. He's been doing good today- focused on his work, somewhat put his foot down with Daniel, and he's been exchanging messages with Rico during his brief breaks.

He leans against the wall as the elevator starts its ascent. He knows what he's actually going up here for- it'd be difficult not to.

He's trying not the think about last time, the way he'd been shoved down onto the desk, Daniel's hand pinning him. It'd be embarrassing to already be hard coming into the office, but he's rapidly headed that direction, hot under his shirt collar.

He's worrying at the paper in his hands, fingertips running across the folds and creases. He'd taken a picture of it, because he doesn't want to lose it or drop it anywhere.

There's the now-familiar pleasant chime of the elevator doors sliding open, and then Max is making his way down the hallway- a left, a left, and a right- to Daniel's office door. He knocks, rolling back onto his heels as he waits.

"Come in."

Max slides the door open, slipping inside. Daniel's staying late as well, and his curls are messy, like he's been running his hand through them. He looks about as tired as Max and the rest of the finance department feels.

And apparently also how they look, because Daniel raises an eyebrow at him and whistles, low and long.

"Damn, there a war going on downstairs? I didn't realize I'd be dragging you from the frontlines, babe."

Max makes a so-so motion with his hand, shrugging. He's too tired to feel flustered, not quite up for the normal cat and mouse game talking to Daniel always feels like.

"Might as well be, sir. I don't think anyone's a fan of Netco at the moment."

Daniel scowls, capping a pen with more force than necessary.

"Tell me about it, christ."

Max takes a few steps forward. There's an open space on the desk, and Daniel hasn't gestured for Max to come over, but-

Everyone is tired. Max doesn't mind sticking to routine.

The pleasantly surprised expression on Daniel's face when Max deftly steps around his knee and hops onto the desk is more satisfying than Max anticipated.

Daniel's shoulders relax, hands coming down to spread his fingers across Max's thighs.

"Taking initiative, Maxy?"

Max tilts his head to the side, leaning back on his hands.

"We have performance evaluations coming up, sir."

Daniel laughs- a real one, which Max is learning is different from the ones he'll give over the phone.

"Glowing marks for you babe, I've only heard good things."

He reaches up, tapping lightly at Max's jaw.

"Real pretty face too."

Max isn't sure if it's the sleep deprivation, the pleasant feeling he's had all day, the pent up horniness, or a combination of the three- but he's feeling bold, twisting his head to capture two of Daniel's fingers in his mouth, running his tongue over them.

Daniel makes a surprised noise, pressing them against the inside of Max's cheek.

"Yeah?"

Max hums, spreading his thighs on the desk. He wants.

Daniel presses down on his tongue before withdrawing his fingers, pushing his thumb into Max's bottom lip.

Max makes a soft noise, waiting for an instruction, but Daniel seems mildly captivated. He's not doing anything.

If Daniel wants Max pent up and horny all the time, he's going to have to deal with the consequences. Max slides off the desk, folding down onto his knees between Daniel's legs, looking up at him.

Daniel's eyes are wide and entranced, hand gently falling into Max's hair.

"Maxy, what's gotten into you?"

Max rests his cheek on Daniel's thigh, his own hands held neatly in his lap. He's not sure how to answer- just knows he feels more settled in his own skin about everything, feels less like he's in free fall than he did before.

The knowledge that he'll be calling Rico after helps. Even if he does feel weird when he's done with Daniel- and he usually does- Rico will make it better.

Max doesn't really want to answer though. He knows what he's up here for, and so does Daniel, even if the energy is different this time.

Daniel laughs softly, fingers absentmindedly carding through Max's hair.

"Okay babe, we can do that. But I've got to actually get some things handled, and you really do need to go back to work after- so how about we try something different, yeah?"

Max blinks, waiting.

"I need that list, sweetheart."

Oh, right.

Max carefully pulls it out of his pocket, handing it up to Daniel. There's a moment where Daniel's fingers brush over the back of Max's hand, heat shooting through him.

"Thank you."

His other hand pulls Max's head up a bit, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Can you be good if I give you something to keep your mouth occupied?"

Max is confused for a moment before realizing, cheeks flushing as he nods. Daniel pats the top of his head.

"Good."

He rolls forward, and Max has to scoot further underneath the desk to accommodate. It's darker, noise muffled through the thick wood- his head is spinning.

Daniel's fingers nimbly unclasp his belt, and then he's pulling his cock out, letting Max wrap his fingers around the base.

Max gives a few experimental licks at the tip, but Daniel's hand tightens in his hair, tugging.

"I said be good, babe."

Max makes a soft noise, sinks a few inches down. Daniel's fingers tighten again before relaxing, smoothing gently over his hair in a way that almost feels apologetic.

Max can feel his shoulders sinking down, muscles relaxing as he takes Daniel further down his throat. His mind is starting to float away from him, blurring at the edges of his consciousness in a way that Max is learning he really likes.

Daniel's hand is heavy on his head, and Max can faintly hear him speaking above him, but it's not at him, so he doesn't think too hard about it.

At some point- Max isn't sure how long it's been- he can feel drool starting to pool at the bottom of his mouth, and he doesn't even think before he swallows.

Daniel's voice hitches above him, fingers squeezing. Max winces, because he hadn't really meant to do that.

He does his best to behave after that, letting Daniel's voice wash over him from above, eyes drifting closed. It's not quite like sleeping- but it's relaxing.

He doesn't even realize that Daniel has stopped talking, lazily blinking his eyes open when Daniel's thumb brushes across his hairline.

"Maxy, how you doing down there?"

Max makes a soft hum. Daniel's half-hard, and Max is only duly aware of his own arousal.

He leans his face into Daniel's hand. It's surprisingly nice, being like this with him. So far most of Max's time with Daniel has been overwhelming, a blur of embarrassment and pleasure, but this is different- he feels like putty, resting between Daniel's legs, holding his cock in his mouth.

It's slowed his brain down, eased the tension out of his shoulders and spine.

Daniel's fingers slide back into his hair, and then he's pulling back, his other hand reaching down to support Max's head.

"C'mere babe."

Max goes easily, blinking against the bright light as he shuffles out from the desk. His legs are asleep, buckling under him when he tries to stand.

Daniel's quick- gets his hands around Max's waist, bringing him back up and into the air, settling him on the desk again.

Max feels boneless, eyes hazily watching Daniel's. His face softens, one hand coming back to Max's thigh.

"Yeah, I think that's enough for today."

Max isn't sure how long he sits there- he feels like he's been out in space, and he's trying to come back down to Earth. Daniel keeps one hand curled around his hip, but he's rolled closer to the desk, still navigating around on his monitor.

Max finally starts to shift, rolling his ankles carefully as feeling comes back to them. Daniel's eyes flick up to his from where he's been intently reading an email, the edge of his pen caught between his teeth.

Daniel grins, squeezing his hip.

"Feeling good?"

Max thinks about it for a moment- he is. He really is- more than he thought was possible, considering they didn't really do anything.

"Yes sir."

Daniel's smile is softer than Max is used to, not quite as sharp as it's been before.

"Catering is just about here, if you're ready to head back downstairs."

Max feels his eyebrows furrow.

"But sir, you didn't-"

Daniel cuts him off with a soft squeeze.

"It was what I needed, babe. Good job."

The praise flickers at the pit of Max's stomach, turns into something warm and gooey inside of him. He wants more of it.

Daniel's hands still hover by his waist as Max slips off the desk, but his legs are more stable now, supporting his weight.

"Thank you, sir."

Daniel tilts his head, looking like there's something else he wants to say- but he just shakes it softly.

"I appreciate you bringing the list up."

Max nods, and then he's leaving Daniel's office. He doesn't go back down to the fourth floor- gets out at the 5th instead, where everyone has gone home for the night.

He steps into one of the employee bathrooms, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Max?"

"Hi, Rico."

There's a low noise from Rico on the other end of the line, and then the background chatter on his end fades away as Max hears a door shut.

"You sound good."

Max feels good- better than he ever has after Daniel before. He hums, eyes drifting shut as he pins the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

"It was gentle today. He didn't actually fuck me though, which was weird."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I just kind of stayed under the desk for a little bit. I feel like I took a power nap, honestly."

"That's good. Sounds like he took care of you for once. You feeling good too?"

Max nods before he remembers Rico can't see that.

"Yes, I'm very relaxed. But it's nice, being able to talk to you."

Rico makes a soft approving noise, voice dropping lower.

"Glad to hear it. You did such a good job for us both, being good for Daniel like that. I'm proud of you."

Max leans his head back against the wall, letting the praise smolder low in his gut, seeping warmth into him. First Daniel, now Rico- Max is going to develop an ego if they keep this up.

"He's catered us dinner for the department, since we're all having to stay late tonight."

"Yeah, that's nice of him. I have a match tonight, so I won't be home, but you're more than welcome to stay at my place, okay?"

"Oh- thank you. I might do that, it depends on how the rest of the night goes."

"Always available, Max. I'm never going to be upset if I come home and you're there."

Max hums. He needs to go back downstairs- his brain is starting to kick back up, running smoother than it had before. There's a couple reports he wants to go over again.

"It'll just be a surprise then. Have a good match, Rico. Take 'em for all their worth."

"Hell yeah."

------

It's dark out when Daniel finally logs out, scrubbing his hands down his face. He's not worried-

He's a little worried.

The official VIP invitation to a local match had caught him by surprise until he saw who it was from, and now he's moderately concerned for his life.

Or his teeth, at the very least. It's inspired him to get an appointment set up with his dentist, but if he loses a few he's not going to be happy.

He shakes out his hands, standing from the desk. It'd been a surprising change of pace with Max earlier- Daniel really had intended to be less... tender, about the whole thing. It's a strictly sex based arrangement, so it's entirely inconvenient that he's suddenly started noticing the freckle on Max's lip, or his stupid little slack emoticons, or the way he'd looked so trustingly up at Daniel from under the desk.

Max isn't interested in anything from Daniel beyond that, and Daniel shouldn't be interested in anything from Max. He has a feeling that Rico is about to beat that message into his skull.

Literally.

------

Daniel... sort of forgets about the looming threat above his head. He gets caught up in the lights, in the showmanship- he's always been a fan of fights, and being in such a good seat really is exciting for him.

He remembers the moment they announce Rico. His blood ices over, sweat beading at the back of his neck. Rico is huge, and he's exactly as jacked as Daniel expected him to be.

He gets a bit lightheaded- hears the match start, watches with blurry vision as Rico tears through his opponent like butter.

There's a moment where Rico turns, eyes catching Daniel's for a brief moment- right before he hits the other man so hard Daniel feels sympathy whiplash in his neck.

There's a ding of the bell, and then Rico is definitely looking at him- blood smeared on his teeth, lips stretched into a grin.

Daniel feels a shiver run down his spine- maybe it's the last of his self preservation finally deciding he's a lost cause and jumping ship. If Daniel was street smart, he'd be hightailing it out right now- wouldn't even give Rico the opportunity.

Unfortunately, he's not. It's a well known personal failing- he's got a good eye for business, but sometimes common sense likes to skip him.

So he follows Karim back down the hallways to the setup rooms, waiting patiently after Karim leaves. Part of him wants to ask him to wait with him, protect him from getting beat to a fucking pulp, but-

Karim is part of Rico's team, and that would probably just end with two people hitting him instead of one.

------

Daniel's fiddling with the rings on his fingers when the door swings back open again, and then Rico is stepping in.

There's a wet towel around his neck, pink spots on it from where he's been wiping blood off of his split lip. He kicks the door back shut behind him, eyeing Daniel. His eyes drag across him slowly, and Daniel shifts where he's sitting on the counter, uncomfortable.

Rico huffs a laugh, tossing the towel onto one of the counters as he leans back against the door with his arms crossed, blocking the only exit.

"What, don't like being looked at like a piece of meat?"

Oh.

Daniel has a feeling that charisma isn't going to serve him well here- he averts his eyes.

"Look at me."

Rico's voice is low and dangerous, and Daniel's looking back at him immediately, heart pounding. There's adrenaline hot in his veins, but nowhere for it to go.

Rico steps forward off the door, moves right up into Daniel's space. His back is flat against the wall, large fingers coming up to grip his jaw tightly. Rico is a burning line of heat in front of him- Daniel feels tiny in his shadow. If someone opened the door, they probably wouldn't even be able to see him- it makes him feel like a prey animal, like he wants to roll over and show his belly, hoping and praying that it's enough.

He lets Rico move his chin up, meeting his eyes.

His heart has never gone this fast in his life.

"You are one lucky bastard, that Max likes what the two of you have going on. If it was up to me, I'd fucking leave you here in a trash bag."

Daniel swallows, afraid to move. Rico sneers down at him, split lip glistening with fresh blood.

"But I don't like how you're doing it, so here's what's going to happen, yeah? You're going to step it up-"

His fingers grip tighter for emphasis, jerking Daniel's head slightly.

"-and do it right. If you keep using him and tossing him away, I'll leave you in so many pieces they'll give up looking for you. Got it?"

Daniel nods, eyes wide. He can do that- of course he can do that, he's realized that he wants to do that.

Rico tilts his head, eyeing him appraisingly, and then suddenly there's a thick thumb in Daniel's mouth, pressing down meanly on his tongue-

Daniel whines.

Rico scoffs.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You're going to be a good boy now when you fuck Max, yes? Treat him nice, take care of him after. He tries so hard to behave for you-"

His thumb curls behind Daniel's bottom teeth, yanking him forward into his chest so that Rico can look down at him.

"I think it's time for you to put in a bit of effort as well."

Daniel breathes shallow through his nose, nodding. He can do that, he can-

Rico pulls his thumb out, pushing Daniel back against the wall as he turns away.

"I don't want to have to have this conversation again Ricciardo- I won't be as nice the second time."

Daniel slumps back against the cool concrete behind him, face flushed. His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest, and his eyes are wide as he tracks Rico moving around the room, pulling a hoodie over his head.

Rico looks back over at him, impassive.

"Handle yourself, and get the fuck out of my building."

Daniel has never listened to someone quicker.

[emmyrosee]

okay so, this evening has not been fun for me, so ofc I’m gonna try coping via escapism 🤩

and as always you are absolutely NOT obligated to write it. I’m so serious, if you don’t want to there’s absolutely zero pressure emmy, I’d completely understand one hundred percent.

very long story short, I got my grades back for this semester and despite doing soooo much better overall this year than my first year and not failing a single class this time around, unless I get a miracle it’s looking like I’m going to have to be asked to withdraw from my university for a whole year ☹️

and as someone who got straight As from elementary til my last year of high school/made school my whole life, this is just an enormous blow to any self confidence I had finally built back up. I was doing better mentally and finally feeling a bit like myself again and I’ve just felt so sick with anxiety all evening because I don’t even know what to do anymore. If they decide to ask me to leave, it’ll make my chances of medical school even slimmer than they already were and I can’t help but feel like a bit of a failure and like I’ve just ruined my future despite knowing it’s not all true and I still have options :(

it’s so hyper specific and I’m so so so sorry abt that, but would it be possible for some comfort + tons of fluff with kuroo possibly? I just want to be babied a bit by this fictional man LOL. I feel like he’d know exactly what to do and how to get my mind off of it until I inevitably get that email :(

anon <3

My love, I am so sorry you’re having to go through this, and I am here, to PERSONALLY, tell you that you are far from a failure, and you should still be proud of yourself for getting so far. It’s okay to have bumps like this that halt your dreams, and it doesn’t make you any less deserving of continuing to chase those dreams. And hey! Use me as an example! I went from being a mechanic for four years and being fired for being so terrible (yes that is an actual thing that happened) then I went to college for writing; and now I’m a licensed esthetician with a focus in makeup artistry! There is no such thing as a dead end, no such thing as a closed room, just keep treating yourself gently and reminding yourself that this is far from over, your dream is still more than obtainable with some time and it is more than okay.

Ahem. Let me get off my soapbox PFFFF-

——-

Last night, you refreshed your emails who knows how many times, staring at your computer screen on the verge of hyperventilating for what felt like hours- and it might have been; your brain can’t process how long it was right now.

Your bottom lip was tight between your teeth, the hand on the mouse pad trembling, waiting in anticipation, tight with nerves. Your other rested a fist on your lap, waiting for the results and occasionally wiping a rogue tear that falls.

There’s a soft rapping on the door, but you don’t turn to face it. You merely keep refreshing.

“Hey,” tetsuro whispers, and you hear his feet padding into the room, and when he gets next to you, he crouches down. Once again, you can’t spare him a glance. “Any updates?”

You stay silent. He winces, “I’ll take that at a no…” he lays a warm hand on your back and gently rubs it in circles, “it’s okay baby. We’ll figure it out, we always do.”

“Tetsuro, please,” you whimper, not quite in the mood for a pep talk. “I’m going to puke right now, my life is in flames and crumbling around me, I’m so nervous, please. Save the pep talk, I can’t handle it right now.”

“I'm sorry,” he soothes. He doesn’t say anything further, just rubbing your back in slow, firm circles with his palm, blinking his golden eyes up at you warmly, lovingly.

You feel your body cramp from being under his loving touch, suddenly dawning on you just how long you've been sitting in the chair, inert and unwilling to peel your eyes from the email inbox. You suddenly become hyperaware of how your legs feel numb, your fingers are cramped and your eyes are burning. It's the first time in hours you've taken a break from your refreshing to scrub at your eyes, breeding a wetness to try and soothe the sting.

You hear Tetsuro sigh, "why... don't we go to bed, angel?"

"No."

"But-"

"I can't," you whimper. "Not now. Not yet-" your breathing picks up as you look at him in despair, chest fluttering and heart pounding as you try to breathe. He furrows his brows and shushes you softly, big hands moving to cradle your cheeks and force you to look at him.

"Baby," he says softly, but firm enough to ground you. "It's late. They're not going to send it this late at night. And if they do, we'll deal with it when we wake up tomorrow. But I'm almost certain they're not going to send it to you this late. I promise, okay?"

You let out a shaky sigh and look at the time: 22:43. It's far too late to be thinking, to be worrying, and you'd much rather breakdown in the comfort of your own bed, than alone in this wooden chair.

But you do know that, no matter what, Tetsuro is going to be right next to you, rubbing your back and cradling you close.

When you say nothing, Tetsuro slowly stands up and scoops you in his big, strong arms, "come on, angel face. Let's get some rest." You thunk your head against his chest and fist your fingers into the collar of his shirt, letting him carry you to the bathroom where he plops you down on the countertop.

He grabs your toothbrush and some toothpaste, and gently tells you to open, which you sleepily do. He's extra careful, making sure to get every tooth he can, scrubbing softly as to not make you uncomfortable. Silence, save for the bristles on the toothbrush, fills the room, the corner of Tetsuro's tongue sticking out in focus.

"Okay. Spit," he says, moving so you can comfortably turn your head and spit the froth out. Skincare comes next, and his touch is even softer as he massages in every product you use.

"Good girl," he whispers, picking you back up to carry you to bed. "My good girl. Good, brave girl..."

You drift off in his arms at his praise, not even feeling the way he gets you into pajamas or gets you under the covers, the exhaustion of the constant high of anxiety weighing you down.

Waking up this morning, your bones feel like bricks under the wall of your muscles, barely able to move under the force of it all. Your skin feels like paper, so hyper aware of it now that you’ve had the time to come down from your anxious state. You blink up at your ceiling, eyelids tight as you do, and you continue to stare and let your body wake up molecule by molecule, inch by inch. You feel it coming to life, and you slowly bring your hands up to press the heels of your palms into your eyesockets to force the rest of the sleep out of your eyes.

When your hand then drops next to you, you feel yourself grow saddened at the lack of warmth. Tetsuro’s been out of bed long enough to let his side cool down, and it makes you want to cry at the idea of being alone right now.

You never should’ve shut him down last night. All he wanted to do was help, and you shut him up and made him feel bad, now he’s not even in bed with you anymore, and you feel tears sting at your eyes again, this time out of anxiety of making him upset, and-

“Ah, you’re up.”

Your guilty, howling mind shuts up as soon as tetsuro’s body makes its way into the doorway, smiling and stirring his tea with a spoon. “Good morning, babygirl.” He takes a step into the bedroom and before you know it, he’s at your side, sitting on the bed next to you. He uses his free arm to wrap around you, but not pull you to his chest. “Did you sleep okay?”

“No,” you whimper, voice croaky. He nods and lets his thumb rub up and down the curve of your shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you last night.”

His brow cocks in confusion, “huh?”

Now, finally, you turn to face him, “I snapped at you… I told you to-“

“You told me you didn’t want a pep talk,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s okay. You’re allowed to tell me that my words might not be the most helpful. I’m not going to get mad at you for that. It’s not like you told me to shut my ugly ass up- you’d never do that, I’m too pretty.”

This, for the first time in what feels like days, has you crack a smile. You let out a small laugh, breathy and barely there, but he smiles proudly all the same, pulling you in for a hug now. “You’re a goof,” you murmur.

“And you, need to eat something,” he whispers against your head, and you deflate in his arms again. “Don’t you protest me, you know you have to eat something.”

“‘M not hungry,” you say.

“I know, but you didn’t eat last night, and I let you sleep in-“ at his words, your eyes flick to the clock on your nightstand, red numbers flicked onto 10:24. “You have to have something.”

“But-“

“I know,” he says. “Do you want something sweet, or savory?”

20 questions. It’s something he does after a fit of your anxiety to try and make your life just a hair easier, decisions quicker, and your day just a bit brighter because you’re getting exactly what you want. He claims he used to do it with kenma, hence why he’s so good at it.

“Uhm…” you shrug, “why not both?”

“Both?” He echos. “Okay. Do you want fruit?” You nod. He nods with you. “Okay. How about a bagel?” You nod again. “Okay. With some cream cheese?” You shake your head and he clicks his tongue, “butter?” You shake your head again, “okay. Uhmmmm-“

“I want to do it,” you mumble, and he presses a kiss to your head.

“You sure? Because I can whip something up-“

“I have to do it. I have to put the toppings on my bagel.”

He nods a final time and squeezes you close, “okay. If you need any help deciding, I’m right here, okay? I’ll be cutting your fruit.”

You hum and slowly swing your legs out of the bed, stretching and mewling from the force. When your hand instinctively darts for your phone, he clicks his tongue, "leave it. You don't need it right now."

"But-"

"I told your family to text me if they need you. Your phone is on do not disturb. Leave it there, babe." He swings his own long legs over and extends a hand out to you, wiggling his fingers enticingly for you to hold. When you grab three of them, he smiles and slowly leads you into the kitchen.

The news is playing on tv at a low volume, there’s a discarded blanket on the couch, and you quirk a brow in intrigue, “tetsu, how did you know I was awake?”

He shrugs, “my life shifts when you wake up for the day. I feel it in my soul.”

“Ew.”

“Shaddup.”

You laugh again, smiling a weak smile as you plop down at the table. He makes his way to begin cooking your bagel, popping it in the toaster before making his way to cut up your fruit. You sigh and play with your fingers, wondering if you should make conversation, or let silence rule, and you sigh shakily before opening your mouth to speak. “What’re you going to have?”

“I, my love, already ate some toast with some apple jelly and butter.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m going to pick at some fruit with you, because I don’t want you eating alone.”

“You don’t have to do that-“

“I know,” he hums. Then, he turns to face you with a smile. “I want to.”

Your heart flutters as you smile at him, looking down at your fingers to distract yourself. Usually, you’d be scrolling through your social media, checking apps and emails, but since he forbade it, you’re left to listen to him sing softly and the newscaster drone on and on. After a few short minutes, your bagel pops, and he plates it with some sliced fruit and places it in front of you, before kissing your head and grabbing various toppings for it.

Breakfast drags, but in a comforting way, where it drips by so slow like honey, syrupy sweet as Tetsuro talks. He talks about everything and anything, about the game Kenma's going to stream for charity, and the funny meme he sent the streamer- or funny to Tetsuro at least, as allegedly Kenma left him on read. You find yourself eating at his company, and before you know it, your bagel, juice, and fruit is gone. You look down at your plate in surprise, and he wiggles his brows at you, "feel better, angel?"

"Uhm... yeah," you say, almost confused. "I didn't think I was that hungry."

"I don't care how you thought, I'm glad you ate." He stands out of his chair with a stretch, "you still hungry? I can make you another-"

"No," you sigh. "I... I really should check my email-"

"Not until I give you a bath and a massage."

You quirk your brow, "you're going to give me a bath and a massage?"

"Of course," he chuckles, "If you're too anxious to give yourself some self care, that's plenty fine, but that means I'm going to give you self care." He shrugs, "those are just the rules."

"Do you even know how to give a massage?"

"Bokuto and I used to massage each other after practice all the time." Your brow quirks higher, and he holds his hand up, "don't ask. Just trust me."

"Can Bokuto give me a massage?" You tease, giggling at the way he gives you a fake smile and a high pitched "no," to tease you.

He presses a kiss to your head, "I'm going to go run the bath, why don't you get changed and meet me in there?"

"Okay," you hum. He nudges your nose with a finger before stalking down the hall to the bathroom. When your hear the tub running, you make a dash towards the small office room for your laptop, nervous to check your email, and-

"I took it out!" He calls, followed by a cackle.

"You're an ass!"

"It's your favorite ass, though!"

You grumble and make your way to the bedroom to get undressed per his request, stealing one of his oversized shirt to conceal yourself until the tub is filled. You stalk into the bathroom and blush under the way his eyes glaze up and down you, "fuck, I love you in my clothes."

"Back off, I'm about to bathe," you snort.

"Yeah, but I can still find you hot." As the tub fills, he adds a scoop of epsom salt, and a splash of bathing bubbles, large bubbles brewing on the surface of the water. You smile and watch them shape and form, the sweet smell filling the air around you. You feel excitement brewing inside of you as you watch him turn off the water and push himself up and off the floor with the edge of the tub, "should do it, baby. I'm gonna let you soak, I'll set up for a little massage after, make you nice and comfortable.

"Okay," you mewl. He presses a kiss to your lips and makes his way to the door. "Hey, Tetsu?" You say, reaching for his hand, which he takes happily. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, babygirl," he whispers. "You know that." He pinches your cheek and leaves the bathroom for you to relax.

The bath water is warm as you soak in the epsom salt, feeling your muscles loosen and relish in the combination. You bury your face in the bubbles and close your sleepy eyes, letting the smells lull you into a state of relaxation. Your head is still heavy with anxiety, but your heart is full of love and warmth for your boyfriend.

You're not sure how long you were floating in silence, lost in the bubbles and oils, but he gently knocks on the door, "you okay? Haven't heard you for a bit."

"Yes," you mewl, stretching. The water is now chilly and the bubbles are mostly gone and you rub your hands over the surface of the water. "Is the massage stuff ready?" You tease, looking at your hands and wincing at how pruny they are.

"It's been ready, I didn't want to bother you," he snickers. “Come out when you’re ready, just wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“I’m alive, I’m coming,” you call, getting out of the tub to dry yourself. You take your time drying off, trying to enjoy the last little bit of warmth clinging to your skin. You leave the bathroom to get dressed into some clean pajamas, smiling as tetsuro busies himself with the whole massage set up. “Candles? You spoil me.”

“There’s a lot of smells going on,” he says with a face.

“I know I can tell,” you hum. Getting dressed, you slip on a pair of his boxers and a shirt, and you make your way to the bed to wait for him.

“Alright-“ he pats the bed for you to crawl on top of. “C’mere, let me pamper you.”

You giggle, “you have been pampering me!” Regardless, you swing your legs onto the bed and lay on your stomach, squeaking as he straddles you and cracks his knuckles.

He lays a massive paw on each of your shoulders, using his thumb to splay and press the muscle under his force, and your eyes cross in the middle and flutter in relaxation. They work in circles to press into the muscles, before laying flat on your back to dig his heel into before his fingers press and roll back up to your shoulders.

Thick fingers roll over the knot in your right shoulder, no doubt from the refreshing of the page for hours on end last night. You whine and bury your face in the bed, and he hums, "I know beautiful, I almost got it."

"Feels good," you murmur.

"Told you it would," he says softly. “You need to trust me.”

“I think I trust you too much,” you snicker. Tetsuro says nothing, merely offering you a laugh through his nose as he continues with the massage.

Your body twitches as the tips of his fingers dig into your side as part of the massage, but your snicker doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. “Something wrong?” He hums, doing it again.

"Tetsu!" You giggle, reaching behind you to try and stop his wrists, "that tickles!"

"That's crazy, I'm not tickling you," he snickers, and it's hard to tell if he's lying or not. "I mean, I can tickle you, if you want-"

"No!" You squeal, and your laughter turns choppy as he uses the sides of his hands to playfully chop up and down your back, making your body instinctively let out bumpy noises from your mouth.

“Quite an attitude on ya today,” he taunts, before hooking his fingers up under your arms, making you shriek, “okay, now I’m tickling you.”

Your mind spins from the sensory change, the signals in your brain cross, but one thing is for certain:

The email is far from the front of your mind.

And it feels good to laugh.

[wakacreations]

Infernal Drunks:

Tav just wanted a peaceful night out. What happens when (Zevlor, Rolan, Raphael, Haarlep) go to a tavern? Turns out they can't hold their liquor. This was so much fun to write.

Zevlor:

“Zevlor! Get down from there!” You turned around to see the Hellrider stood proud atop the bar counter. The bards strummed away at their strings. The patrons drunkenly joined in drumming along on the tables. “When the sirens are calling! They'll ask for your wedding band! They say oh no dear you can never settle down! You have made a sailor's swear! We live by the honors of our sailor’s code!” The Commander belted out to their fellow patrons.

"We live our lives ruthless and free! Beware the bitch queen, Umberlee!” The patrons hollered back. You elbow your way through the tight crowd as Zevlor continues to sing. “We are no mere ruffians or just another gutted chum. Well what do we do, sailors?” He gestured to his audience. “We do fuck all till the crack of dawn!” The sailors roared. He waved a hand at you when he saw your head poke through the wall of happy drunkards. “We are the proud sailors! We call the seas home! We raise our tankards high till the taverns run dry in the Sea of the Sword Coast!” They cheered, guzzling down their tankards. The Hellrider followed suit. “Another song, Horns!” The bards yelled out. Zevlor gave a boyish smile as he held his hand out to you. “Care to sing with me for the next musical number?”

Rolan:

“You know there is a saying that one should never receive a kiss from a tiefling.” You feel the brush of his spade against your ankle. The last song of the evening was winding down. “Is that so,” you teased, raising a brow. “You’ll find a love like no other.” Rolan took a finished sip of his glass, setting it down. “Is that an offer, Rolan?” Your breath hitches as he moves his face in close to get a better look at you. The tiefling wizard’s cheeks were rosy as his eyes met yours. “Would that make you happy,” he grinned. “I.. Are you drunk, Rolan?” He pulled his face back, cocking his head processing your words. He took your hand into his own. “Only on you,” he purred, grazing his lips against the back of your palm. “Your hand is too cold,” turning your hand over to cup his flushed cheek. “There much better, all warm,” Rolan hummed blissfully. You glanced around making sure no one peered at your booth. “I think it's about time to take you home.” If anything it is better to see him at home and forget this evening than to see him lock himself away in the tower for a tenday or more at his own sheer embarrassment. You moved to withdraw your hand feeling your face burn. His hand didn't budge. “Why? I don’t want to,” he huffed, moving his tail to wrap around your ankle.  A pout quivered his lower lip. “I don’t want to wake up,” he grumbled. “Wake up from what? Do you feel tired then we better leave then.” He shook his head in an aggressive no. “When I open my eyes after I fall asleep you’ll be gone,” Rolan whined, squeezed your hand. “I'll see you again in the morning, Rolan. Who would I be if I didn't check up on you?” He shook his head again. “Like how the moon says goodbye to the sun.. When they rise from the horizon.. This moment will be no more. Only to return when I shut my eyes…” The wizard swallowed, concentrating on finding the words. “But never to exist in the waking morning,” his eyes moved to the hand he held. He sighed and pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. “I said to you after the death of my master, please what is mine is yours.” He looked at you once more. “Well my heart is my own and is yours should you ever wish to keep it.” Guiding your hand from his face to gently pressing your fingers to form a fist. With both hands he held your palm closed, “My love will always be here within your grasp.”

Raphael: 

“Mouse!? Where are you!?” You heard a deep timbre voice yell above the strings of the tavern. Turning around you see a disheveled man swaying towards you. “Are you alright, Raphael,” raising a brow. He leaned against the bar to steady himself. “Why are you here?” Given how rosy his cheeks have flushed, the stained undershirt and missing doublet, he did make his rounds.  “You,” he growled, clenching his jaw. Tilting your head, “what for Raphael? I have already paid my debts to you,” taking a swig of your tankard. “What? Did you lose the crown already?” The devil sneered, brushing back a hair that had fallen out of place. “Only a fool would lose such a precious relic. No, there is something I need from you.” What could he possibly need? “I need you home.” You sputtered into your drink. “WHAT,” you coughed, hacking out the last bit of alcohol in your lungs. ��It is how I said it, mouse." The flicker of Hellfire shown in his unfocused gaze. You felt something bound off your head. Looking down you see a crumpled up paper. “Who done that!?” You scanned the faces from the direction it flew. “Done, what? What are you accusing me of? I’ll have your-” “No, not you.” You waved off the cranky devil. From the crowd you spotted a familiar warlock from across the tavern. “Korrilla?” The devil’s warlock gestured to the piece of paper. Unraveling the paper it read He won’t leave unless you take him. Squinting your eyes at the text in hand and looking back at her. “No,” you shook your head. She mouthed back at you, “he’s your problem.” Turning your eyes onto Raphael who was groaning clutching his head on the counter. “He’s your patron!” Looking back, the dwarven warlock had vanished. “Fuck!” Your face fell into your hands. The jiggle of bells came closer. “Tav… I am not feeling so well..” You felt a tugged at your sleeve. “Can we go home now?”

HAARLEP

“Haarlep? Where are you going?” The drunken “tiefling” stumbles away from you. “To find more food, Mousey,” they yawned. “Haven't you eaten already? The bards would be singing about the tiefling who wouldn't leave the tavern without kissing all the patrons.” You walked in pace with them. “Please, that is a regular night for a bard. Only an appetizer for an incubus. There are plenty of tasty morsels to feast upon,” they tumbled forward. “Oh, look there, that one looks quite delectable,” they shimmed free from their wingless guise. “No, come here Haarlep!” They shook their wings. Stretching them to their full wingspan, Haarlep flaps their wings preparing to take off. “You want a hug!?” You extended your arms spread wide. “Haarlep, please!” If they flew, who knows where they would end up. “Mousey!” They waddled back towards you. “Yes, that’s it Haarlep! Who is my favorite little fiend?!” Somewhere you swear you heard a tut of disapproval. “Mousey… I am still,” they yawned over your ear. “Hungry,” dropping their head atop your shoulder. “Let's not go home just yet,” they mumbled. “I know, Haarlep. I know,” moving their arm to hang over your shoulder. When are they ever not? “Where are you taking me?” They groaned as you slowly dragged the incubus towards the Devil's Fee. “You'll eat when we're home, Haarlep. Could you at the very least attempt to walk,” you huffed looking up at the long uphill dirt path. Would it be too late to call for Korrilla? Or Yugir perhaps? “If I do Mousey will you sleepover? Who is to check on I if I were to fall desperately ill hmm?” Pressing the pad of their claw into your cheek, you rolled your eyes. “You know the little brat is helpless if I were to fall sick and no one wants to deal with his petty little tantrums,” they slurred. Would killing Haarlep make them teleport to the boudoir or somewhere else? You shivered from a warm gust of air, a low growl filled your ear, “yes.” Am I hearing things now? “Those are dangerous thoughts to be having, little mouse,” Haarlep purred. You felt their tail wrap snugly around your waist. “So, very naughty of you,” nuzzling their cheek against yours. “Pretty please? I will be as good as my little impies?” The Devil’s Fee was in sight. “Your impies destroyed my pack last time I left it in the boudoir,” you sighed. “I promise, mouse,” they yawned. Just a couple of steps further. Making your way past the gate, “We made it, Haarlep. We’re almost home.” No noise came from the incubus. “Haarlep?” You turned to see their head hung low, drool pooling at the corner of their mouth. “Goodnight then,” you chuckled. Knocking aggressively on the door outcame Mammon’s warlock with a look of agitation. With a toss of a pouch from your hip, she ushered you in. The warmth of Hellfire blanketed you, both. “Just for tonight, Haarlep. I will stay. Who knows, if he’ll allow me to let you out again,” pressing a kiss to their temple. “I might as well,” you yawned, laying down beside them. You watched their slow steady breaths being lullied by its calming rhythm. They stirred in their sleep reaching out to you. “My Mousey,” pulling you to their chest. “Haarlep,” you breathed, suffocating in their tight embrace. “My sweet Mousey.”

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐔𝐬𝐞 ༻

The rest of the lesser devils in court stood around you both, watching your disgrace unfold as you were used by Raphael.

Raphael | NSFW - Voyeurism - Exhibition

Your hands grip the armrests of the throne he had forced you into when he started this little game of his. You had refused to play along at first but it became clear quickly that Raphael wasn't looking for a challenge. You were no match for the Devil, especially not since you handed him the crown. The throne was an odd shape and your legs were spread uncomfortably wide as your feet struggled to find purchase somewhere.

The rest of the lesser devils in court stood around you both, watching your disgrace unfold as you were used as nothing more than a hole for their newfound leader. You can't bear to meet their gaze, knowing the shame and disgrace that fills the air. Your eyes fluttered shut, you could feel your release coming, it wouldn't be the first time you came from Raphael using your body in front of others. You hated yourself for it but your body was trained to react this way, you had been conditioned to love it. To crave it. To respond to his every command.

Raphael can feel your walls tightening around him, signaling your impending release. He revels in the control he has over you, relishing the power he holds. Suddenly, he stops his thrusting, his cock buried deep inside you. He watches you intently, a sick grin spreading across his face. You open your eyes, tears streaming down your face, your body trembling with need.

Your head falls back against the throne, your throat dry from panting. You swallow hard, aware of Raphael's gaze fixed upon you. He wants you to beg, to surrender the last shred of control you have left. You fight against it, but deep down, you know you must comply.

"Beg for it, little mouse," he demands, his claws digging into the fabric of the throne as he grips it. His hips slamming into you, the force of his thrusts leaving you breathless. You gasp, your voice shaky as you plead, "Pl-please!"

But it was far too late, you crossed the line. You came without his permission, and Raphael's annoyance is evident. He seizes your hair, twisting it harshly, causing pain to shoot through your body. He cranks your neck, his grip unyielding. "Vermin," he growls, "it appears you elude growth. Untameable creatures, sworn to stay loath."

You whimper, desperate to please him. "P-please. I-I can do better," you plead, hoping to regain his favor.

Raphael throws your head back, the impact against his throne forgotten as he continues his relentless assault. Your body responds, twitching with every thrust, your moans growing louder. You can't fight it anymore. Your walls tighten around him once more, and you can feel his release building.

With a primal low groan, Raphael leans forward and sinks his teeth into your shoulder, causing a mix of pain and pleasure to surge through you. Your body convulses, your mind going blank as your release crashes over you again. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream of ecstasy.

As you tremble, drained and lifeless against the throne, Raphael withdraws from you, his seed leaking from your spent body. He grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him, his voice filled with sadistic delight. "Tell me, oh Apple of my eye… What should your punishment be? Perhaps I should allow one of these devils below to enjoy you."

Hot tears stream down your face as you realize Raphael's words are meant to provoke you. The thought of being used by another other than Haarlep or himself, of being treated like a mere toy, fills you with dread. "R-Raphael, no, please..." you plead, your voice filled with a mix of fear and desperation. A chill ran down your spine at the thought of one of them releasing their own seed into you…

You wanted to trust he wouldn’t… But deep down, you know that in the realm of Hell, trust is a fragile thing, and the wickedness that resides within the souls of devils runs deep and untamed.

[cxrdycxps]

Caught In A Trap • Joel Miller

☢️ sexual assault (past but there’s flashbacks and discussions) • victim shaming • description of injuries • blood • panic attacks • swearing • ☢️

Main Masterlist • Joel Miller Masterlist

This is part 2 of Cat and Mouse. You should really read that first unless you enjoy not understanding the narrative. Unfortunately this fic has a mind of its own and is gonna have a final third part. I know, I know. I hate myself too. It should be out by tomorrow night, yes I said that last time. No, I’m not lying this time. Thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged and commented so far. I love you all.

“It’s stupid. Isn’t it?” You asked Lou, pacing her living room. She had listened to you explain the whole date to her and now she was weighing up her opinion of what happened and you couldn’t take the silence. “I’m stupid. He’s fucked half the town. Why am I surprised he played me?”

“Like you played him?” Lou asked and you stopped your pacing to stare at her. She didn’t hide from your stare like most people tended to, meeting you dead on. You clenched your jaw before taking a seat and nodding. “Look, I love you. When two people have been through what we’ve been through, there are repercussions. We were items of use. We weren’t people. We didn’t get to have names or belongings or even autonomy. That way of living is going to leave a scar.”

“I don’t want them to have me any more. I don’t want to hide and just do as I’m told. I don’t want to have sex with a man just because he wanted it.” You told her with a sniffle, wiping your face. “But they all do it. They all do something and then they make it my fault, like I’m the crazy bitch.”

“Hear me out?” Lou asked and you nodded. “You keep picking men that make you crazy. Like Nolan right? He used you for sex. He wasn’t open about it but once you figured it out, you let it continue to happen. Abdul, had a reputation for having more than one woman on the go. Aidan was a misogynist from the word go. Luca wanted a housewife, not a partner. Every man you’ve tried to date has been really fucking shit.”

“They have to be. They need to be awful. There aren’t any good men.” Lou held her hand out to you and you took it, letting her draw you into a hug. You hadn’t realized that it was you that was sobbing. “There was so many and none of them tried to help. If there was good men they would’ve helped.”

“Those men weren’t banded together because they were good. They banded together because they were like minded individuals.” Lou told you, rocking you both from side to side. “You knew Joel Miller was a slut. You’ve heard more stories about him having sex than there are single, age appropriate women in the compound.”

“He was nice. He was nice and I slept with him and we, he made me laugh. No one ever bothered to do that. He offered to go home. He would’ve left if I didn’t want it.” You whispered and Lou shushed you again. “For the first time since Nolan I had sex on the first date. I wanted it this time.”

“While I’m sure Joel Miller is a great guy, that’s the bare minimum. I know you’ve never received it but respecting your right to withdraw consent is basic human decency.” Lou told you and you wondered what it meant that having your basic human rights respected felt like winning the jackpot.

“He didn’t mean it though. He got what he wanted by filling my head with false promises. Then he sent his kid, who wasn’t even suppose to know about us, to bail him out. He had expected me to give in.” You cried against Lou’s neck and she shushed you gently. “It felt good. For the first time. When I told him I had an ache the next morning he didn’t insist I just push past it. He was gentle with me.”

“Those are some more of those basic human rights. Absolutely no one should be trying to push you to agree to sex that will hurt.” Lou sighed and you blinked at her.

“It’s bad that I don’t know that, right?” You asked and she only shook her head, kissing your forehead.

“You were in that room for a long time. There was so much you missed, so much to learn. I’ll help you.”

///

Joel stayed to the rear of the group out on patrol. He was fixing to give Tommy a peace of his mind but heading out to kill a bunch of runners wasn’t the time. Tommy and Joel never argued on a patrol because they needed to have each other’s back.

So Joel didn’t give in to the temptation, keeping his distance from his brother who clearly didn’t see anything wrong in his actions. That just made Joel even more mad.

Ellie was on his shit list too because she knew better than to listen to Tommy. She knew better than to come looking for him on a night he said he wasn’t available to her. Boundaries were important between him and Ellie and he was pissed that she ignored him.

“I know that face.” Joel inhaled deeply because right now Nolan was the last guy he needed to see. He had been pissed enough to find him on the patrol but so far he had stayed well away. “Black Widow sunk her fangs into you, huh?”

“Do I look like I’m in the mood?” Joel asked, barely tilting his head in Nolan’s direction. Tommy looked back at Joel when he heard him speak and winced but turned and kept his face forward.

That pissed Joel off even more. Tommy had probably had something to do with Nolan being on the patrol. Joel clenched his jaw.

“She ended things?” Nolan asked and Joel stared resolutely ahead. “You said something bad, didn’t you? It was a joke or a throw away comment but little miss took it to heart.”

“Nolan, fuck off.” Joel warned, eyes facing forward. He couldn’t help but be relieved when Abdul heard the tension in his voice and dropped back. Abdul was a good guy and it might deter Nolan.

“Always ends it once she gets what she wants. Bet every conversation left you wrong footed. Had to feel like you’d make it up to her?” Joel inhaled deeply and stared at Tommy. He was willing to bet Ellie’s life there was no pack of runners.

“You can go and fuck yourself too.” Joel warned. He took measured deep breaths and remembered that he was liable to get in trouble if he hurt any of them unprompted. It wasn’t the same lawless land in Jackson. He couldn’t just punch people that pissed him off.

“Man, we’re trying to help you here. We’ve all been through it. This is what she does as some sick fucking revenge.” Abdul told Joel and he swallowed roughly. “She had some bad times outside the wall, got a little roughed up once or twice before Jackson.”

“When she got here she decided it was our fault. Let’s it look like our decision, you know? To pursue her. Happened to be in our line of view at the bar, we chose to talk to her. We didn’t choose anything.” Nolan piped up and Joel furrowed his brow. “Let’s you feel like you’re playing her then leaves you high and dry. Like you need to go looking for her.”

“She’ll bump into you a couple of times. Each time she’ll cause an argument or make you out to be an asshole. The next time she sees you she’s already forgotten about it.” Abdul spoke again and Joel felt his chest tighten. “Tells you all about her three date rule.”

“She doesn’t do one night stands.” Nolan scoffed and Joel looked over at him sharply. “She never does it, makes her feel dirty. Until she’s crawling into your lap like a damn bitch in heat.”

“That’s enough now.” Joel warned Nolan when his tone changed from conversational to direct anger.

“Safe, you made her feel safe.” Abdul finished and Joel realized that without a shadow of a doubt, he’s been played.

///

“Joel isn’t a dick.” You jumped, the rocking chair jolting with your movements. You raised your sunglasses off your eyes and found Ellie Williams standing at the top of your porch step. Unlike the times you had pretended with Joel, you genuinely hadn’t heard her coming and it sort of unnerved you. “It seems like he is but he ain’t.”

“Ellie, I’m sure he ain’t.” You sighed and set your sunglasses back down over your eyes and tilted your head back to continue absorbing the last of the Summer sun. “Don’t you worry about what I think about your daddy.”

“Okay firstly, that’s weird. Don’t say that. Joel isn’t my dad.” You lifted your head up again to look at her. “He and I went through a lot together but I only met him like two years ago.”

“Okay. My point still stands. I’m sure he’s a great guy. Don’t worry about me. I was just in a bad mood the other day, ‘s all.” You assured her. You didn’t want her to think bad of Joel, father or not.

“Cause I made you think that. I shoulda known better than listen to Tommy. Joel was having an off-duty night. We’ve got boundaries. Boundaries are important.” You sighed and sat forward in your chair. You knew that your relaxing had come to an end.

“Honey, I was mad at him before you knocked on that door. People like me, well, we got issues. I’m tryna work on them but I don’t always do that good.” You told her and she nodded, listening earnestly. “I had some rough things happen and now I play games with people. I can’t help it. I’m trying to find someone that can put up with me, pass my tests.”

“Joel can put up with anyone. He crossed the country with only me for company. I’m annoying as fuck.” Ellie told you with a grin and you huffed a laugh. “You should give him another chance.”

“I don’t think it’s in the card but you’re real sweet for tryin’ to fix things between us. It isn’t his fault really. I shoulda known better.” You explained and she frowned, crossing her arms.

“Is this cause Tommy says you dump men to punish them?” You clenched your jaw and wondered if you were going to have to have a word with Tommy. Tell him to mind his own business before you minded it for him. “I was taken by a man who wanted to hurt me before. I killed him.”

“Not all of us are that fortunate, kid. But if I ever see him again I’ll have a go. See if it fixes me.” You assured her. You ignored her comment about Tommy and leaned back in your seat again.

“I think that you’re making a mistake. Punishing Joel. He’s the only person I know who doesn’t deserve punishment.” Ellie spoke quietly.

“Me keeping my distance is the opposite of a punishment. I can assure you that.”

///

The key got caught in the lock. The hinges of the door squeaked. Every floorboard creaked and groaned. You were able to map the steps taken right up to the edge of the bed. The rattle of a belt buckle. Your arms ached from being tied above your head. “You just been waiting for me, huh?”

You gasped, springing up in the bed with a hand over your racing heart. The room was black with darkness and you fumbled for your lamp, knocking it over in your haste. You ignored the shatter of glass in an effort to get to the main light switch.

You fell against the wall, your panic urging you on. When your fingers closed around the switch and the light came on you could finally breathe.

You were in Jackson. You weren’t there anymore. You were safe and you were home. When your breathing was under control you looked down, unsurprised to find footprints of blood. You had walked on the broken glass.

You let yourself slump against the wall, slipping down to sit and take the weight off your damaged foot. There was no pain to feel yet, your nervous system still on high alert. You sighed heavily, head tilted back. As the adrenaline wore off and the pain kicked in there was no point in fighting the tears.

There you sat against the wall, sniffling and blinking while attempting to get all the glass out of your foot. Swiping at your eyes angrily when you couldn’t see and breathing deep through the sobs trying to fight out of you.

It was exhausting, feeling this way. There were tricks you had learned to make it better. When you had arrived to Jackson every night was spent like this, sobbing in your room cause you were scared of the dark.

Then you had met Nolan. And sure he was a little forceful in his come on but you found the nights easier with him by your side. You had felt safe from the nightmares that plagued your mind. Putting up with sex you didn’t really want was a small price to pay. He never took it forcefully, just spent his time convincing you and wasn’t that easier than what had already happened?

It wasn’t until you found out he had been enjoying your deep sleep a little too much that you had to call it all off with him.

You hadn’t ever told anyone that. Nolan was a valued member of Jackson. He was big and strong. He worked the patrol routes and fixed up houses. You just helped around wherever you were needed.

Nolan hammered home two harsh truths. The first was that there were no good men. The second was that you unfortunately couldn’t keep away from them.

So you played them at their own game. You got a warm body to sleep next to and they got their dicks wet. You made them work for it. You didn’t hand yourself over in a way that made you feel that skin crawling filthy, the way Nolan and all the men before him made you feel.

There was the introduction of your three date rule. You teased them. Made them want you with a desperation that made sure that they’d tell you all their dirty little secrets. The men of Jackson didn’t want to kick you out because you had dumped them. They wanted you out because you held their worst secrets close to your heart.

They feared the monster of their own creation. You wanted them to fear you. Every cheating, lying scumbag among them.

Joel had been different. He had risen to every single challenge you had offered. He had gone the extra mile for you. Sure he had said stupid things but never out of cruelty. Never to hurt you.

Ellie had told you that Tommy had orchestrated the bail out so maybe he hadn’t expected you to do whatever he wanted. Maybe he had been as much a victim of outside sources as you were.

You had wanted him in a way you had never actually wanted a man before. You hadn’t broken your three date rule in years, never since Nolan. But you couldn’t help yourself, crawling into his lap in a way that made you feel like the games were over.

You wanted them to be over. You wanted to be wrapped in Joel’s embrace, wanted him to fend off the nightmares and hold you when they broke through anyway.

You wanted him on top of you, gasping against your neck, pushing into you slowly. He had been so gentle with you, taking his time with you. He had been bashful about his size, almost apologizing until you had been begging him to fuck your harder and deeper.

You sniffled again and probed the skin of your foot, checking for any pain that could be caused by glass still being inside. When you found none you pushed yourself up, limping out of your room and hitting each light switch on the way, bathing your house in the golden glow.

You found your first aid kit in the bathroom and patched your foot up. The tears had stopped for the most part and you took advantage of that to clean up the broken lamp and the blood.

You’d have to visit the clinic tomorrow and get it checked out but for now the bandages would do. When you looked at the clock you found it to be a little after four. Acceptable enough to get up and start your day.

You wouldn’t be getting any more sleep with those images in your mind and the phantom ache in your arms.

///

“Joel it isn’t that big of a deal.” Ellie sighed, trying to shake the grip he had on her shoulder. He didn’t answer and she rolled her eyes at him, wiping the blood out of her face. “Shimmer is gentle usually, she just spooked.”

“She ain’t broken yet. I told you not to ride her.” Joel huffed, pushing her towards the clinic. She had slapped a piece of gauze over her injury and called it a day. He had half a thought to kill her when he had peeled back the gauze and found the deep wound. “Could’ve died.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Ellie sighed, shaking him at last when they pushed through the door. She let him talk to the receptionist, looking around. She blinked when she spotted you dozing in a chair, bandaged foot elevated on a table. Ellie looked over to Joel who hadn’t spotted you yet and grinned, moving to drop into the seat next to you. “Hey.”

“Fucking- Jesus Ellie. What the fuck?” Your eyes flew open and you almost bolted out of the chair. It was then Ellie took in how exhausted you looked. “Gonna put a fucking bell on you.”

“You just reuse all your lines like that?” Joel asked with a scoff and your eyes widened, turning to look at him and back to Ellie. “Got nothing original, huh?”

“What are you talking about?” Ellie asked him, wondering why Joel had his ‘I shoot people for fun’ look on his face.

You were saved from the conversation by your name being called. You pushed yourself up, ignoring Joel’s comments and barely took one step, limping heavily, before Ellie slotted herself in under your arm.

“I’m fine.” You assured her and she shook her head, resolute in helping you.

“She said she’s fine, Ellie.” Joel grunted. Ellie ignored him and supported you walking toward the treatment room.

“Thank you.” You lifted your arm from around her shoulders and supported yourself on the door handle.

She was in the treatment room by the time you had gotten your stitches. You were hoping not to see them again but just as you were receiving a pack of gauze and bandages Ellie stepped out, prodding her own stitches against Joel’s advice.

“What’s the verdict?” Ellie asked, slotting in beside you at the counter. You had been given a pair of crutches and you propped them under your arms.

“Four stitches, no pain meds and the threat of brute force if I’m caught working or walking on my foot.” You told her with a sigh, ignoring Joel’s glare. You felt sort of off balance having him this mad at you. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to but you weren’t blackmailing Joel. You had gotten mad at him for a proper reason.

“I got four stitches too!” Ellie cheered and bumped her shoulder into your arms. “And I’m not allowed nap today. Just in case it’s a concussion. Joel probably won’t let me on a horse ever again.”

“Sucks to be you, I guess. I’m gonna nap all day.” You told her with a shrug, smiling when she laughed at you and shook her head.

“Yeah yeah, you’re a dick. You gonna be okay to get around? I can call by and help?” You frowned at Ellie, eyebrows furrowing at the effort she was suddenly putting in. “What?”

“Thanks for the offer, Honey. But it’s just a little cut. I’ll be fine.” You ruffled her hair before grabbing the gauze and bandages off the counter. “Stay away from them horses, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed and you rolled your eyes before shuffling towards the door, your crutches clicking loudly in the silence that followed. Just before the doors closed behind you you heard it.

“She ain’t your friend. Stop acting like it. She’ll just let you down too.”

If there was one thing you wouldn’t let happen ever again, it was letting a man be right about you.

///

You spent a lot of time out on the rocking chair on your porch over the next few days. The summer was winding down and you were enjoying the last of the warmth before Jackson turned into the frost bitten, snow covered town it was in Winter.

Your foot hurt something awful but it showed no sign of infection which you were grateful for. Without pain meds the best you could do was stay off it.

Reading on the porch seemed to be the best way for it. And so you spent all of your time out there, watching the comings and goings of Jackson. The days were peaceful, allowing you to nap in the chair to avoid the fact you weren’t sleeping at night.

It wasn’t until the creak of your garden gate sounded on the fourth day that your peace was interrupted. Ellie had a large plaster slapped haphazardly on her forehead and a larger grin on her face.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” You asked her with an eyebrow raised. She only shrugged, tossing her book bag down at your front door and taking a seat on the bench on your porch.

“Told them I had a headache. They sent me home. Except Joel is out all day on a patrol and I’m bored.” Ellie explained and you nodded, rocking yourself with your good foot.

“And you can’t call over here while Joel is around cause he told you not to.” You offered. She shrugged instead of denying it and you had to laugh a little.

“Like I said. Joel isn’t my dad. I don’t have to do what he says.” Ellie explained and you rolled your eyes at the pure teenage attitude that poured off her. “He’s afraid I’ll get attached to you. I once got attached to a book full of puns so he’s probably right.”

“Well I mean, you’re only talking to me cause I spent a night with your father figure and you feel bad for interrupting.” You teased and Ellie laughed.

“Nah. I heard about you way before Joel. I take note of women that men hate. It’s important to be feared by men.” Ellie told you honestly and you laughed, shaking your head. “I read a book about feminism. It was in my room in Jackson when we moved in. It’s important to have good female role models.”

“I’m not a good female role model. I’m the opposite of a role model. I sleep with men to get their secrets. That’s not exactly inspiring.” You reminded her and she shrugged.

“Well I ain’t gonna go copying you if that’s what you’re afraid of. Not like I’ll be sleeping around with the men of Jackson.” Ellie scoffed and you tilted your head at her.

“Is that right?” You asked with raised eyebrows. “I’m sure the women of Jackson will have as many secrets.”

Ellie flushed a deep red and sat up on the bench, her jaw hanging open. “I never said that.”

“Didn’t have to. I’m very observant.” You told her, letting your head fall back again. “I ain’t gonna tell anyone.”

“Ellie!” You winced and Ellie groaned loudly. It seemed Joel had gotten home early. You continued to rock your chair and took a deep breath. He was just as in the wrong as you were. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“More importantly, what are you doing here?” Ellie asked, laying back down on the bench. “It’s way out of your way.”

“Looking for you. I get back early and hear you’re suffering headaches and can’t find you anywhere.” Joel snapped, pushing in your garden gate. “I told you I didn’t want you hanging around here.”

“She ain’t doing no harm.” You sighed, you hated to get involved but she was shrinking in on herself, away from his anger. “Every kid played hooky once.”

“I didn’t ask you. Last thing she needs is to be hanging around you. She’s a kid, no games to be played with her.” Joel snapped and you huffed a laugh.

“That’s right. I’m the only one who plays games.” You told him, pushing yourself to your feet. You winced, reaching for a crutch. “You know what you did. All the games I played was to prevent you doing that.”

“Oh yeah, the same games you played with damn near every man in this town, huh? I heard it all, Nolan and Abdul had a lot to say.” Joel scoffed, grabbing Ellie’s backpack and waving her forward. She looked between you both before shuffling towards him. “We all had it tough outside Jackson. You don’t gotta punish everyone for it.”

“Is that right? They told you all about me, huh? That’s a silly game for them to have played.” You leaned against your porch railing and grinned at Joel, wide. “Get off my property, Joel.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Oh my, we be sad gurls and bois.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When Pete rumbles with snores, you move to the couch, hoping for what little sleep you can summon. You can't lay there beside him knowing what you know. You can't steam in the spite of knowing that he can sleep just soundly while sneaking around.

Two wrongs can never make right. You're not absolved. Far from it. You're mad. At him. At yourself. At life.

As you drift in and out, the apathy comes. You can't care. If you let yourself feel, you'll fall apart. You don't have that choice. Someone has to hold it together for the kids.

You get up first, like most mornings. You're restlessly impatient to get the day started if only to get away from that house. From the husband who isn't much of one.

Simone and Malik sit at the table eating cereal as you check your phone. You're on track so far. As if fate is throwing you a soft ball, the morning is going smoother than ever.

You get the kids packed and in the car. Every step is taken on habit alone. You walk them to the school doors and wish them a good day. Then you go back to your car and idle in silence. You're empty, you have nothing left.

You make yourself pull out and join the snailish roll of traffic through the school zone. Your drive to work is over before you know it as you stay locked in a trance. Before you just went through the motions, now it's like you're a ghost, floating aimlessly from one place to the next.

You enter the office, the walls a blur in your vision as you find your way blindly to your desk. Your head is pounding. Amid your early morning scramble, your desperation for distraction, to think of anything but reality, you hadn't even had a coffee. Your entire being throbs from the caffeine withdrawal.

You cup your forehead as you boot your computer. Eventually you'll get up and grab a cup of the weak break room brew. You lean heavily on the armrest of the chair and wiggle your mouse. 

For once, you're thankful to be at work. No fighting kids, no laundry, no scoundrel husband. But you're there and it's just as hard to live with yourself. 

"Morning, sunshine," Mr. Hansen's booming tone has you careening back in your chair as he comes to lean on the corner of your desk, "aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Long night, huh? Husband finally loosen you up a bit."

You give him the daggers. That look that says 'enough'. Your motherly chagrin blazing at full force. He winks and laughs as he taps the end of your nose.

"You're real cute when you're pissed off, you know that?" He puts a hand on his hip, smoothing his index and thumb of his other across his mustache.

"Mr. Hansen," your voice is gravelly with dry fatigue, "is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, I can think of a certain wakemeup," he snickers, "but I'm thinking that you're not really into it. Still, you look like you could use it."

You huff and turn your chair to glare up at him. Can't he bother anyone else? He had his fun, he humiliated you, he made you hate yourself. So what else does he want?

"If you don't mind," you push your chair back and stand, "I'm going to get some coffee."

"Oh, sounds fun," he shoves away from the desk and trails after you, surprising you as he stretches and arm across your shoulders, "this company shit, it's garbage. How about I make you my own personal brew? I got a keurig in my office, just got some French Vanilla–"

"No thank you," you grumble and pull away from him.

You enter the kitchen first as he continues his incessant pursuit. He likes Malik when he wants to tell you about his legoworld. You go to the machine and find the carafe empty. You rinse it and fill the tank.

"You're mad about yesterday," he says as he leans on the counter, "if you're into snuggling, you coulda stuck around–"

"No," you growl as you measure out the coffee grounds.

"I let you go take care of the crotch goblin so I thought we'd be square–"

"Mr. Hansen, it's not you," you close the lid and flip the switch, "really."

"Ah, got it, it's the hubby. He's not taking care of his marital duties, huh?"

"Please, sir, it's not… it's not that," you falter as the lie sticks on your tongue. "Tired, need coffee."

"You look like you need sleep," he shifts closer as you stare at the slow trickle of coffee, "tell you what," he lowers his voice, "you come in my office, give me a good tug and I'll let you sleep in a meeting room. How's that? I'll make sure you get your eight hours."

You open the cupboard, taking out your mug from the bunch of mismatched porcelain, and set it on the counter. You can't even look at him. Not only because he repulses you but he reminds you of how pathetic you truly are.

"I'm good," you insist, "thank you, sir."

He scoffs, "I'm giving you something you're not getting elsewhere. Action and sleep," he runs his knuckles up your sleeve, "beggars can't be choosers, can they?"

You look at him. You're so fucking exhausted that your eyes are too dry to eke out a single tear. It's the only thing keeping you from tipping over the edge.

He smirks and looks at your blouse, reaching to pinch one of the front buttons, "look at that, all put together."

You glance down at the misaligned buttons. You don't even care. You're a mess. You're old and used up and unwanted. Even he only wants to get off, it doesn't matter who does it.  At the end of the day, he'll be just as happy to do it himself.

You're speechless. It's nothing like shock. It's exasperation. Are all men really like this? Is this what Pete does? Is she some girl at the company?

"Forget it," you take your empty mug and spin in your low orthotics.

You stride out and stumble to your desk. You can do this. You just have to get through the day. And then what?

Get the kids, go home, cook dinner, do homework, bath time, bed for them, clean the endless mess…

Tomorrow? The same thing, over and over, until what? Until when? When do you admit defeat?

Hansen struts out of the breakroom. You look up as you see him sipping from a mug; your mug. He meets your gaze as he drinks deeper and passes by.

You wonder the same thing about him; when will he give up? 

🗄️

You feel yourself slumping lower and lower. Your eyelids are scratchy and burning as you fight to keep them open. You cup your chin in your hand, elbow planted on your desk as the emails blur before you. You can do this… 

In a minute, you’ll get up and get a coffee, undisturbed, and really start working. You won’t fall asleep. How could you? Right here in your office chair. On the best nights, you can barely sleep in your own bed. Lately, it’s only been bad nights.

Once you find the energy, you’ll get up. You swear you will. It’s all you have to look forward to. That cup of coffee. You can smell it. You know it’s burnt by now, stale and bitter, but your stomach growls for it.

A few more minutes.

You hear snorts, strange noises that seem to rumble from within you. The clacking of keys and soft clicks continue, almost forming a rhythm as your screen ripples to bars of colours. You feel a weight over you and a sudden shift.

You hit the floor, bouncing on your ass as your seat hits your shoulder. You look up as you awake, only realising then that you dozed off. You blink at your coworkers before focusing on the figure glaring down at you. Mr. Hansen has a hand in his pocket and a foot on the bottom of your chair. Shit.

“Working hard,” he muses tritely.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, disoriented. You can’t believe you fell asleep. You hope this is just a dream, if so. “I… I didn’t–”

“Get up,” he demands.

You scramble to get to your feet. You reach for the chair and he kicks it further away. You’re overly aware of your audience. No one will look directly at you in fear that they might draw Hansen’s attention, but it’s obvious by the lack of typing that they are very aware of the scene.

“I’m very sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to. I was– I’ll stay awake. You don’t have to worry.”

“Go home,” he says curtly.

“Home? No, I can make it through the day. It was a mistake.”

“Go. Home.” He repeats pointedly, “this isn’t a hotel.”

“Please,” you murmur, “please, Mr. Hansen,” you clutch your hands together, trying not to speak too loud, embarrassed as your voice cracks, “I–”

“Don’t make me call security,” he warns as he steps back on one heel, his posture victorious. He arches a brow in challenge. You’re certain he’d love to see that, you dragged out like an intruder. “Come back Monday, well-rested, and HR will deal with your disciplinary report.”

“What?” You gulp. In all your time there, you’d never been written up. Not once.

“Keep digging that hole.”

“Okay, okay,” you go to your desk and open the drawer to pull your bag out. You hook it on your shoulder and turn around, nearing him as you reach for the coat hung on the back of your chair. He watches you with a smug smirk, “I’ll be back Monday.”

“We’ll see.”

His ominous words put you on edge. You recoil and stare at him. What does he mean by that? You’re not stupid enough to ask. You put your head down and march out, burning with embarrassment as you pass your rapt audience.

“Hey,” Hansen claps his hands, “back to work.”

🗄️

You barely make it home. You set an alarm as you get in the front door and collapse on the couch. You don’t care that it’s lumpy and uncomfortable, you don’t care about anything. You forget all your worries for the blackness that clogs your mind.

As quickly as you close your eyes, your ringer goes off. You wake with a groan and roll over, shoulders cramped and stiff as you reach for your phone. Two o’clock already. Your head pulses with the dregs of fatigue. You feel marginally better.

You fill a travel mug and head out to pick up the kids. Along the way, you can’t help but shrink behind the wheel as the morning pricks in your mind. You don’t expect things to go well on Monday.

You pass a Burger King and slow down. You don’t have the money for a Whopper. No, that’s not what you’re thinking. It’s not spending you’re planning on.

You pull in and get out. You enter and approach the counter, sheepish as a twentysomething greets you from the other side.  You smile as you come forward.

“How can I help you ma’am?” He asks, hands on the side of the till.

“Oh, uh, I was… I was looking for an application,” you eke out. “For a job.”

He nods, you see the surprise flick in his lashes, “oh, well, we don’t have physical applications anymore but…” he reaches over to a stack of small flyers beside the till, “if you scan this QR code it will take you right to careers page.”

“Um, right, yeah, makes sense,” you take the slip as he offers it, “thank you.”

“You lookin’ to order?” He prompts with a strained smile.

“No, sorry, I gotta go get my kids,” you fold the flier and turn away, ��have a good one.”

You head back to your car. You drop into the driver seat and curse. Fuck, your hips are killing you. You don’t imagine doing weekends standing behind a till will do much for that but you don’t have much of a choice. Even with the second job, you doubt you’ll be able to pay for the babysitter to cover it. What a stupid idea.

You shove the flier into your purse and back out from between the lines. You check the time as you set out to the school. You arrive just as the bell rings and the kids are let out into the yard. 

You find Malik with the other grade ones as Simone seeks you out on her own, too cool to hang around with the other grade sixes. She can be a bit of a loner but not in a sad way. She can intimidate even you.

“Hey, how was school?” You ask as you take them to the car, “did you do anything fun?”

Malik tells you about the popsicle stick houses they made as you buckle him into his car seat and Simone does up her seat belt on her own. You nod and smile, humouring your son’s slightly lisping story.

“What about you, Simone?” You ask as you look over at her.

“I just read. I’m almost done number four,” she shows the cover of her latest fantasy series, “but they wouldn’t let me stay in the library during recess.”

“Good, you need the fresh air,” you tease, “speaking of, I was thinking we could go for a hike this weekend. How does that sound?”

“A hike?” She grimaces, “is dad coming?”

“Err, we’ll see,” you shrug, “I spend all day in the office, I’d like to get out before the winter gets here.”

“I’ll go if dad does,” Simone opens her book, “it won’t be any fun without him.”

“Daddy, daddy,” Malik claps his hands, “I love daddy!”

“I’ll ask him,” you nod and keep a frown from tugging at your lips. 

You stand straight and gently close the back door. You round to the driver’s door and get it, quiet as you turn the engine. You’re not even good enough for your own kids.

[perllet]

A slight girl sat at the back of the cafe, a smudge against the white linoleum. She was examining a guide book intently, hair falling over her face as she bent over the table, a black apostrophe on a white page. Commander Graham Gore had been sat across the street, on the fading bench, for over ten minutes, watching her. Muscles tensing to stand, (to - what? Enter the cafe, or go home?), before they relaxed, and he continued to watch, letting the roach burn out between his scarred fingers before he tucked another cigarette between his teeth. She was poring over the old travel-book, with a photograph tucked between her fingers, her attention sliding between the two. The waitress had approached twice with the jug of filter coffee, before withdrawing, scowling at the lack of response.

He couldn’t tell what he felt exactly regarding the ferocity at which she was clearly trying to identify his whereabouts - that blasted photo, sent at a moment of weakness, or a moment of courage. She was a picture of everything that he adored and hated in her, a ferocious, calculating, clever little alley cat, who would find a way to track their exact footprints through the wilderness once she decided she would. She was also a woman who was, ultimately, ruled by her devotion, which meant that if she had followed him all the way to the small town they had chosen for its links to Anchorage and the fact that its people all seemed to be living in the past, then he was included within that small bubble of devotion. All her love and devotion, he still hadn’t decided what to make of it.

On Erebus, and before, at Navarino, even on the Beagle, he believed the decisions he made were a product of pure logic, boiled and skimmed of any foolish fear or apprehension. These last few months, however…He had begun to see the traces of feeling, of his heart, in every decision he made now. If he didn’t stop to listen to what that peculiar, disembodied voice advised him, he would never have left the safe house in London. It used to be that logic saved his life. Now, he wasn’t sure if it was working for or against him. Like now. The muscles of his legs pulled taut, again, as he considered his options. He could be back at the cabin, bags packed, Maggie roused from her appalling nap schedule, and into the wild of this sparse state before she had even taken the first sip of her cold coffee.

It was this image that made him stand. And all questions of logic and devotion drained away as he stepped into the cafe, moving towards the table at the far end of the window. Unlike the waitress, his presence made her shoulders come up to her ears, and she raised her head slowly, already knowing.

Their gazes caught on a live wire. His arms were crossed, his face void of emotion - it was his last defence. Her expression was the opposite, so many thoughts passing over the ghostly little face that he had equally no clue what she was imagining. She swallowed, and tucked the photograph into the Alaska: Lost Steps guide, folding her hands primly over them both. For a second, the roles were switched - she was the mouse pinned under his feline claw.

“Hello, little cat.”

[a/n: I am devastated at finishing ministry of time and I need something anything to fill this void. it was just perfect]

[mousemannation]

bolshe just dropped a 40 min interview with daniil !!!

I SAW!!!!!!! i am so grateful bc i WAS going through mouse withdrawal 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 i will be watching it 2nite of course 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🐀🐀🐀🐀🐀

[your-writer-beta-side-piece]

Looks like it’s time for me to pop back up again begging for fics about my new hyper fixation!

What’s in store for you in this post:

*An impassioned plea throughout the whole post to all of you amazing writers

*Gifs that will keep you up at night too

🎅 *My Gator Tillman fic Christmas wishlist 🎅

🏆*A (Smutty) Rec at the bottom for the best Gator x OC I’ve found so far🏆

*More gifs because goddamn I’m in a chokehold 

It is seriously criminal how there’s like, two Gator x OC’s (that I can find, if you have any don’t hold out on me please!! I feel like I’m going through withdrawals having to wait a week for another episode as it is) on here and AO3. 

I mean come on we all love ourselves a slutty, dominate, broken character that we all fantasize about fixing. 

Not a single thought I’ve had about this man has of the Christ like variety, and I don’t think I really need to explain why just look at these gifs/photos:

HE HAS HANDCUFFS ON THE BED THE FICS ARE WRITING THEMSELVES 

🎅My Gator Tillman Fanfic Christmas wishlist🎅:

I want a full story fleshing out our new favorite loser, but still somehow so damn attractive, Gator

I want an ofc that is too good for him but we all know we’d sink that low too girl

I’d LOVE it if it followed canon. Like how in the show he’s trying to get her/he's going after her like he is trying to get Dot 

(come on if he was stalking you and called out to you and said “mama it’s time to come home” YOU TOO WOULD FOLD)

I want him to use those handcuffs on our girl once he finally gets her

I want smut 

Y’all on AO3 come up with the best damn oc’s there’s a reason they’re binding yalls books and talking about them all over booktok like you guys are published authors 

(Im not saying it’s right/that I participate or that it is even legal, I’m saying Ive seen it and I know you guys have the caliber of writing to make some people not give a fuck and try the law for some of you guy's stories)

I want him to call her mama

I want the dominance, the stalking, the cat and mouse chase

I want a plot as wild as this season and those families are

I know some people hate fics that follow plots of books or shows but this season is AMAZING and so fucking wild. I love it and I’d love to read about it and be immersed further into Fargo. I don’t want to leave the season 5 Fargo world I want to stay longer... with Gator

I want more smut 

A plot that can only be contrived by fanfic authors who have been reading and writing since they were 15 or even younger

I want even more smut 

I want all of the angst, good writing, and humor you can think of

I have a feeling we’ll need some of you fic doctors to write us a fix it fic of some sort 

But I especially want smut. I want to drown in smut. 

I want it all and you guys have served it all before so I know it's possible

If I could outline a whole plot, along with side plots, new characters and character arcs, write, and edit as fast as some of you guys can I would do it myself. I would do it for us. I’ve considered it. I mean I’ve been really considering it these past few days since it’s dryer out here than the Lyon’s bed. I’ve got an idea, lust, Christmas candy, and the hyper-focus to keep me interested for at least three to four weeks!! (I might have started if it wasn't the week before finals for me right now)

But some of you guys who’ve written for Steve Harrington (let alone other fandoms) have the ability to be best selling authors, so I know these communities have both the talent, ability, and the horniness to do this. 

I believe in you guys, I believe in us. Let's do it for Christmas 🎄

REC I PROMISED:

Since it is the season of giving, I’m going to share my favorite fic so far. Let me know if there’s any fics we need to add, OR if there’s any books with love interests like Gator, for science 👀 

Again the general criteria I’m using is along the lines of:

Is there an actual story going on?

Is there an oc who has a purpose, goals, wants, needs, an actual arc of some sort?

Is Gator Tillman still sexy af?

Is it following canon or is it original?

Is the plot and characterization good?

Does Gator call her mama or is it at least probable that he will 👀 ?

Is the grammar/writing good?

Basically the same stuff we all want to check off 

MY FAVORITE FIC SO FAR REC: 

The best I’ve found so far has been: 

Every Little Thing

By BuckysGrace

Link:

Why I like love it:

1.) The writing is pretty damn good

Normally we have to wait a few weeks or months with new movies/shows/books for people to have time to write and publish their well written and plotted fics but we have been blessed early!!

I really like the sprinkle of tid bits to come here and there. The authors really laying the foundation down for this story leaving little comments and hints here and there in their writing and characters conversations. 

I can tell that the author is really working hard to create believable oc's and a world that could actually be a part of the Fargo TV show universe.

2.) Damn the little taste of smut we got just flamed the fire!

Tell me why I could actually visualize Gator during that scene?!?! It really felt like his characterization was perfect here! And damn I love me some dominant, possessive, jealous himbos who would kill for me or worse.

I PROMISE I'M TRYING SO HARD NOT TO SPOIL ANYTHING FOR YOU GUYS!!!

3.) I really like our girl Daphne (OC)

I feel like I can actually see her. Like I can hear her when she speaks. I can feel the awkwardness of her situation and her uncomfortableness radiating through me. 

I like that she's shaping up to be a character with wants and goals and not just a 2-d romantic partner

4.) GODDAMN THAT DINNER WAS AWKWARD AND SEXY 

I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE AFTERMATH ooooooo boy.  I’m not spoiling anything. You can suffer (and enjoy 😏) that part all for yourselves

5.) We have confirmation from the author that there is a whole ass plot and story in the works

I love to hear it almost as much as I love to read it! But I could tell that they had some stuff in mind from the way they were writing alone before the confirmation. 

6.) AND ITS GOING TO FOLLOW CANON EVENTUALLY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME US! 

I might just get to hear Gator call our girl mama before I die from fic starvation. Plus we just might get the stalker Gator on page like we have on screen!

7.) I like the dual time line

It’s done a good job of getting me hooked. I’m really interested in learning more about Daphne’s past and her relationship with Gator. I think as time goes on as we learn more about their relationship and her relationship with both her family and his things are really gonna kick off.

4.) Gators characterization seems to be pretty accurate 

He's selfish, possessive, dominante, kind of a jackass, but he is also sweet to those he cares about. Which, is something I've noticed when watching the show, and I've seen some posts talking along similar lines. I don't think he's mean deep down, I don't think he has it in him. I think the facade he puts on is the product of his father.

BUT I'm not excusing anything he's done of course

6.) The grammar is pretty good 

Good writing like punctuation and sentence structure along with good story telling is just so important to me. I'm one of those people who can't get into a story if it's not written well.

7.) GUYS IM SMELLING THE ANGST COMING

Some of us are like blood hounds for this stuff, you read hundreds or even thousands of fics and books and you can start to know what goodies are coming your way. And I can feel the pain train a comin down the tracks! 

8.) The smut is promising to be real real good 

I just want to circle back to this for a moment because I am so excited to read more

What I don’t like about it:

It’s not longer/finished already so I can't devour it in one sitting 😭

You might not have read it yet 

@buckysgrace

I think the only way through this is to fill our thirst for this man and if here and TikTok have shown me anything it’s that we’re DAMN thirsty! 

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE!? GO WRITE MORE GATOR X OC SO WE CAN ALL DEVOUR IT ON A03 OR READ BUCKYSGRACE’S FIC AND CRY WITH ME THAT THERES NOT MORE OF IT OR MORE OF ANY OTHER GATOR X OFC FICS 😭😭😭

*Did I write all of this instead of doing homework and studying for next weeks finals? Yes. Am I eventually going to devolve into a fic rec/review only blog? Maybe maybe not.

More gifs/photos for research purposes

[scvcnofswords]

i'm too tired to write up her proper bio and i haven't made her in ve ilgu ard's CC yet anyways but- Orlesian Grey Warden (Awakening) Brierley Andras is now here on the blog. I'd like to try and focus on her a little bit for a few days just to properly settle into her voice? [ her and regin, mostly, really- they're the two 'loudest' muses right now. ]

i'm also working on two major metas- one on the parallels of elvhen culture and the tuatha de danaan/celtic mythos and the importance of rebellion in thedosian narrative through those myths, and another on how honestly b iowa re leaning so hard into centrism and maintaining the status quo betrayed that/my issues with the veil/binding solas to it (as well as my own character's perspectives on that, bc that's a major thing) and i'm hoping to have at least one of them actually DONE before the weeked (lol, sure, self. sure. not like you're not even at the second settlers and you're 8 pages in to the first one and only a paragraph into the second! fml)

anyways, some quick info about brier under the cut so that if anyone would like to write with her before her bio is properly posted, they have some info to go off of!

BRIERLEY ANDRAS is sent to Ferelden as part of the Orlesian contingent of Wardens in 9:32 Dragon, one year after the Blight, to support the Hero of Ferelden as they establish Vigil's Keep as a base for Wardens, having been made Arlessa (i default to Litriu being HOF, but if you would like a HOF muse to interact with Brierley, they can be the arl/arlessa obviously). She is 25 years old and has been a Warden since she was 22.

[ trigger warning, abuse implications, character death, tranquility, implied abuse of power ]

Brierley was a city elf born in a northern province of Orlais, and sent to the White Spire when she was 9 years old- alongside her twin sister Ismay. She was a good study and deferential to the templars - in truth, rattled by them. Quiet as a mouse, in truth- Ismay was the bolder of the pair, rebellious and vivacious- but the pair were allowed, at least, to stay together rather than being separated.

Still, things were harsh at times, and there will always be contention between templars and their charges, and Ismay's rebellious nature often drew unwanted attention to both siblings. The night before their Harrowing, at age 17, the things they endured seemed to push Ismay off of a breaking point- and she attempted to kill Brierley, claiming it was 'to spare them both' from what was to come. She was hauled off of Brierley, having cut into her neck with a shard of glass [ not deep enough to kill outright] - seemingly stunned that Brier had actually fought back. Ismay then declared 'you've killed us both, then.' and impaled herself onto one of the templar's swords.

It was discussed, while Brierley was in recovery, to invoke the rite of Tranquility, in case she would prove to have the same temperament as her sister. This was very nearly carried out, stopped at the last minute by the knight-commander, as it had been his second who pushed for and moved forward with this course of action.

Brierley passed her Harrowing, withdrawing somewhat more- but her skill with enchantment and her dedication to learning ended with her serving for a time at the Orlesian court. Perhaps shockingly, here, Brier bloomed- growing confident and cunning, even playful, to a degree that many who had known her when she'd been a child didn't recognize her. She became an adept player of the Game- and was familiar with Madame de Fer, the empress' arcane advisor during her time in the Empress' court and palaces.

When she was 22, a visiting Warden ended up conscripting her when she alerted him to poison in his drink- and from then on, she was a Warden, surviving her Joining. If she'd bloomed in court, she truly blossomed with the Wardens- traveling, protecting people, forming tight bonds with the Wardens around her.

After the Fifth Blight, Brierley is the only survivor from the assault on Vigil's Keep from the intelligent darkspawn. She serves as a battlemage/force mage, and a resource for matters of politics and Warden history, traditions, and tactics.

At the end of Awakening, she remains in Vigil's Keep until recalled by the First Warden to Weisshaupt in 9:35 Dragon.

During Inquisition, Brierley Andras is one of the Orlesian Wardens in Adamant- but she can be found in the dungeons of the fortress as the Inquisitor traverses the keep and sieges it. She's been beaten and imprisoned for attempting to kill Clarel for what she's done- for she is also a blood mage, and was able to protect her mind from the control and influence of Erimond and Clarel. She is too wounded to aid during the siege, but will volunteer herself to the Inquisition's services- particularly since there's an alleged-Archdemon in Corypheus' pocket, and a Warden is needed. She WOULD immediately out Blackwall as an impostor if she is in his presence- as there's no Blight in his blood to be sensed. Whether or not she tells the Inquisitor before he does will depend on him and any conversations he may have her.

Brierley's Blight is cured before the events of Veilguard when Litriu Mahariel finds the cure to it in the Wilds of Antiva- she has since settled in Ferelden and helps to fight against the gods and protect who she can during the events of the game but could be optionally recruited, as a blood mage and battle mage with war experience, to aid Rook.

[brazyspirit]

 ↳       outside the three lives bookstore | koda & jasper | @rufficns

nightfall shortly became koda's sanctuary, the only safe time he could step outside the safety of his new york apartment where he was shielded from the dangers of sunlight by blackout curtains and artificial lighting. when the sun set, he could feel normal again, stand in the busy crowds of times square, or go to a bar and immerse himself in the constant noise of his past. he could feel normal until he caught the sight of an innocent's pulsing jugular vein as they sipped a drink or danced around, and his vision would darken until he'd escape into the silence of the night once again. tonight wasn't like that, he couldn't silence his innate hunger anymore. he hadn't fed since the night he was turned, and koda was feeling the side effects of that. sweaty palms, sunken eyes, withdrawing from the one thing that kept him functioning as much as he could. he wandered through the streets, eyeing up each passerby for the ideal candidate, a tasty evening snack for the fledgeling. his eyes caught sight of someone, a perfect fit; a small stranger was locking the doors at the bookstore, isolated and quiet as a mouse. the vampire kept his distance, hidden in the shadows against a nearby wall, watching from afar as his eyes followed the way the man went, slinking after him.