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themidnightcrimson · 1 year

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tarot ࿏ wm

summary: in which you visit a psychic for a tarot card reading and find that her tricks seem too real.

words: 4.9K

warnings: dark!wanda, fem!reader, non-con/dubcon, tummy riding, scissoring, dildo (r receiving), size kink, use of magic for mind manipulation, dumbification, degradation

this post is a dark!fic and is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

The loose rocks of the pavement scuffed under your heel as you mindlessly kicked them with your shoe, taking a long, slow drag from the cigarette. It was cold that night, and the smoke that you exhaled through your lips was dense with the fog from your warm breath.

Nat reached forward and took the cigarette that you were sharing from your fingers. “It’s been months, y/n.” Her leather jacket squeaked as she curled her arm to bring the cigarette to her lips. The air was damp and the music from the bar muffled as Nat leaned against her truck. “I don’t mean to be that friend who just tells you to just get over it and move on, but just get over it and move on.”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved your numb fingers into the pockets of your coat. “I have moved on.”

Nat squinted at you as she turned the cigarette back to you, and you took it, breathing in the smoke she exhaled. “You fled the bar as soon as you saw her across the room.”

You glanced around, hoping that your ex was still inside and nowhere near you. It had been two months since the nasty and dramatic breakup between you and the woman you had been with for over three years. It was sudden and unexpected, and she really gave you no other reason for it besides “I think we should see other people.” You knew that meant she had been or planned to cheat on you, which just made the entire ordeal even more sickening.

“Is it so bad that I don’t want to be around the person who dumped me after three years together? I mean, c’mon, maybe two months is a long time for you but on the time scale of relationships, it’s still very fresh to me.”

“Aha! So you haven’t moved on, like I said,” Nat countered, taking the cigarette right as you were about to take a second draw.

“No, I—I have moved on. I mean, I don’t care about her anymore. It’s not like I still love her. It just hurts seeing her.” You tried to explain it the best you could. You truly did not love her anymore and would never even fantasize or contemplate getting back with her after how crudely she had left you, but seeing her reminded you of all the hurtful words she had said and how she had betrayed your trust so cruelly. It was a reminder that you were heartbroken.

Nat only nodded, looking down at the pavement and crossing her legs. There were a few beats of silence as you stared up at the full moon and she stared at the side of your face. “You know, I would say you should try therapy, but why waste a thousand dollars when you could get a psychic reading for 20 bucks.”

“Huh?” You turned to look at her incredulously. “Why would I do that?”

Nat shrugged and handed you the cigarette. “Maybe to give you some clarity, or the closure that she never gave you. You know I don’t believe in all that holistic spiritual shit, but I do think something like a tarot card reading could help you move forward, even if it’s just by placebo effect.”

“How?”

She shrugged. “I mean, they tell you what you want to hear. It’s fake, you know. They figure out what you’re in there for and they tell you everything they can so that you leave with a smile on your face and their pockets full. Nonetheless, it’s some pretty good bullshit they spew. Better than anything I could tell you, with how shit I am at words.” She kicked at the rocks and chuckled. “It’s either that or going to church.”

You raised your eyebrows and laughed. “Church makes a psychic reading sound like heaven.”

“There’s one in town, you know?” she added, turning and pointing West. “Down at the end of Ellis Avenue.”

“Ellis Avenue?” you echoed. In all the years of your life you had lived in that small town, you’d never heard of that street. “What’s down there?”

“A shit load of nothing. It’s where the town turns into all woods. But I know there’s a tiny psychic shop down there. It’s got a purple sign that says 20 dollars for a tarot card reading.”

“Tarot cards,” you laughed. “Why have I never heard of it?”

“It used to be owned by some lady named Agatha, but there’s a new woman there now that took her place. Wendy, I think she’s called. Wait, no—Wanda! That’s it.”

“Wanda,” you sounded out the name, and you noticed how the wind picked up and caught the word from your lips, whistling it into the air eerily. “That’s a fitting name for a psychic.”

Nat flicked the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with her boot, rocks crackling under her heel. “You should go tonight. I’m sure it stays open pretty late.”

You glanced back to the bar, knowing that your ex was somewhere still inside. You certainly weren’t going back in there, and Natasha didn’t seem like she was willing to go home yet, so your only other options were to either go home and sleep or go test out this psychic.

“Fine,” you finally said, digging your car keys out of your pockets. “I’ll go check it out.”

Nat hesitated suddenly. “Well, actually it’s a little late. Maybe we can go tomorrow, and I’ll go with you.”

You were already walking to your car. “I’m not getting any sleep tonight after seeing her, anyway. I might as well just go.”

Nat looked around and scratched her head. “Well, just be safe. There really is nothing on that end of town, and I have no idea who this woman is. Keep your phone on you and text me when you get there and when you leave.”

“Okay, mother,” you joked, to which she grinned. You waved her goodbye and got in your car, watching as Nat walked back into the bar.

“Ellis Avenue,” you whispered as you typed the words into the map app on your phone. Nothing came up. “Huh?” You deleted it and typed it again, but still nothing showed. Did Nat get the name wrong?

You glanced out your window in the direction that Nat had pointed. She said it was on the far West end of town, where the woods started. You supposed you could just drive around until you found it—the town was too incredibly small for you to not find it. You imagined that you were so used to the town that you never looked hard enough to notice new things, and that’s why you had never seen the shop before.

Buckling up, you pulled out of the bar and onto the road. You drove West across town, taking a few turns that you knew would lead you to the woods. After a while of seeing nothing, you thought maybe Nat was pranking you, but finally, you saw a dingy street sign that read Ellis Avenue and a tiny little shop with a purple sign that read $20 for tarot card reading above a hand with an eye in the palm.

There were no cars in the parking lot. The place barely looked open if it weren’t for the blinking purple sign. You paused, wondering if this was really safe. It was late at night, and this shop was way out of town, alone and isolated on a road where there were no other shops or houses.

It seemed intriguing, though. As you stopped in the middle of the road and stared at the shop, you felt something pulling you towards it. Maybe it was the universe telling you that this was going to be good for you, that whatever this psychic could tell you would be the key to unlocking your grief and moving forward with your life. Whether it was placebo or not, maybe this would help you be in the same room as your ex without freaking out and fleeing.

Trusting what you believed to be your intuition, you cut your wheel and turned into the gravel driveway, your headlights reflecting off the dark tinted front windows. Shutting off your car, you walked up the crickety front steps to the door. You paused, feeling almost as if you should knock before entering. Considering that it was a public shop, you just helped yourself inside, gently opening the door to be met with the intensely strong smell of incense.

A cough scratched at your throat as you stepped inside and closed the door. The air was smoky from an incense stick burning in the corner and from probably two dozen candles burning all around the room. Your eyebrows sewed together as you looked around curiously.

Everywhere you looked were little trinkets and whatnots—crystals of varying sizes and shapes and colors, tiny bottles of strange colored liquids, little jars filled with herbs and flowers and sealed shut with melted wax, bundles of sage and other herbs and leaves, and other little things that you could not recognize. Whoever this psychic was, she truly put on the act and made her shop part of the show. It would be impossible for someone to walk in and not feel like they were being handled by someone who knew what they were doing in the realm of spirituality.

You jumped when you heard a shifting sound, your eyes flickering to a curtain of beads that separated this room and another. Through the curtain that was parted by a ringed hand came a woman, a young woman with long brown curls and smokey green eyes.

“Hello,” she greeted you with a low, accented voice. “How may I be of service to you tonight?” Her voice was pleasant but careful, and her narrowed eyes looked you up and down as if she were suspicious of you.

“Hi,” you squeaked, knowing how silly you probably looked standing in her room of witchy tools. She wore a black dress with a red scarf wrapped around her arms, her fingers fiddling together as she neared you. “Um, are you Wendy—I mean, Wanda?”

An amused look crossed her eyes. “I am. And you’re y/n.”

Your spine jumped out of your skin. How did she know your name? You looked down at yourself, wondering if maybe your wallet was hanging out and showing your ID, but there was no reason she could have known your name. You chalked it up to it just being a small town and everybody knowing everybody. “Yeah.”

“Sit,” she spoke, gesturing to the table sat in the center of the room with candles lining it. You saw a crimson set of tarot cards sitting perfectly on the tabletop. “You’re here for a tarot card reading.” She simply said it rather than asking it.

“I suppose,” you slowly began, feeling your nerves tingling. You tried to remind yourself that psychics were like magicians. They used tricks you were unaware of to make it look like they can read your mind or have supernatural abilities.

You carefully sat down at the circular table, and once you were sitting, she gracefully sat down opposite from you, letting the red scarf slip off her arms and hang over the seat of her chair. The smell of the incense was almost nauseating as you watched her fingers take the tarot cards and begin shuffling them expertly.

The silence was loud as she eyed you while shuffling. You supposed she was pretending to look hard into your mind, so you just stared back at her.

“It must have been hard seeing your ex at the bar,” she said simply as she started to cut the deck into thirds. Her hands were moving so swiftly you couldn’t keep up with them, only seeing a blur of rings and cards.

Your lips parted in shock. “Um… I know you’re a ‘psychic’ or whatever, but how the hell did you know that?”

She didn’t answer you. She laid the cards into three decks in front of you and then withdrew her hands, leaning back in her seat. You noticed then how quiet and solitary the shop was, how intimate with its low lighting and flickering candles and smoke.

“Draw the top card from each pile,” she instructed, a sultry tone in her voice.

You wanted to press her question further, but you reached forward and took the top card from each pile as she said, laying them face-down on the table in front of you. When you were finished, she slid the remaining piles to the side and flipped over the first card to your left. You were confused when you saw that the card was upside down.

“The Chariot,” she read, her eyes blinking thoughtfully. “Reversed. Your future has been carried away from you.”

You tried not to scoff, but she noticed anyway, sharply eyeing you and pursing her lips. She continued anyway, flipping over the second card which was upright.

“Death.”

Your heart started to pound in your chest, your brain already calculating what that card meant. It was eerie, the way it looked, drawn in a smudgy black and white sketch of a body laying dead on the ground and a horseback knight, assumedly the murderer, jumping high over its victim.

“Your relationship ended abruptly, and you find grief a difficult transition.”

You still did not know how she knew you had been through a breakup, but maybe it was an easy guess for a young girl walking into a psychic shop. A part of you, a very gullible part, started to wonder if maybe she really was a psychic.

Finally, she turned over the last card. Chills pierced your spine as you recognized the Satanic image on the card—Baphomet, a horned man, drawn with an unnerving smile over the words The Devil.

“Ah,” she smiled, her lips curling into a pearly smile that caught your eye. She was a beautiful feigned sorceress, that was for sure. “You’ve been tricked.”

Your face scrunched at her words. “Tricked? How?” You were genuinely curious what she meant, even if you were starting to fall for her illusions.

She paused for a thoughtful moment, fiddling with the rings on her fingers as she stared at the card. “She was judgmental, wasn’t she?”

You held your breath, silently urging her to go on.

“She made you feel ashamed of yourself and manipulated you into thinking you were nothing without her. She even made you feel like you were unworthy of her love, though she suffocated you with it before taking it away abruptly. She tricked you into thinking you could not breathe without her, and then she took away your oxygen. And you didn’t even know it was happening, did you, detka?”

She was staring at you now, her misty eyes gazing into your own. A drowsy feeling overtook you, and you couldn’t keep hold of your thoughts. They were rushing past you, plucked just before you could think them, scrambled out of your reach. You didn’t know it was the crimson glow on her fingertips under the table giving you this blank and dazed feeling.

“I…” you trailed, your head starting to pound. “How did you…”

“I am a psychic,” she spoke, and her voice started to sound far away from you, though she was sitting just across the small table. “Says it on the door. You knew it before you came in.”

Tilting your head, you squinted at her, your mouth forming words that your brain would not let your tongue speak. Suddenly, you felt like you had forgotten completely how to speak.

It was then that every candle in the room except for the few on the table were snuffed suddenly by a gushing wind that tickled your hair across your cheek. In the dark, under the glow of the table’s remaining candles, you saw a scarlet light in her eyes.

“You… you’re…”

“I am everything you think I am and more,” she interrupted you. “And you are more than you think.” She leaned forward, bringing her hand out of the table. You watched as she twisted and curled her fingers around in the air, sparkly red magic dancing between them as she scrambled your brain with a tilted head and a curious stare.

Suddenly, flashing memories of your ex passed through your mind. The fights, the arguments, the words you had pushed down and forgotten about under your ex’s manipulative gaslighting.

Wanda spoke, “She made you think the relationship was perfect so you would stay with her for as long as she wanted you, and so that when she didn’t want you anymore, she got to have the upper hand while you suffered. Evil little cunt.”

“That’s not true—”

“I’m seeing it right here, detka.” She twisted her fingers, and the moments were clear in your mind. Your head started to feel fuzzy, your vision dim as you gripped the table, losing all sense of balance like you might fall right out of the chair. “How could someone treat a perfect little kitten like that? Take you for granted so, and leave you out on the road like a discarded dog.”

Now your heart was starting to hurt as much as your head, and before you realized it, you were crying. The smell of incense was burning hard through your nostrils as the witch picked her way through your brain and scrambled the rest. She was surprised at how easy it was to get in your head from the moment you had walked through the front door. She heard your thoughts before she even stepped in the room and looked at you. Now, seeing how easily a non-magical human had broken you down, she gleamed at the thought of how easy it would be for her and her powers to dumb you down even further.

“Stand up.”

Control over your own body was way past you. You moved at her words, standing sharply to your feet. She grinned in satisfaction and stood slowly, walking towards the curtain of beads she had first came through. She didn’t even have to speak or move her fingers for you to follow, floating mindlessly after her through the long strings of beads into the next room.

The back room was small, a sort of bedroom with a crimson velvet bed and a few pieces of furniture. More candles were lit back there, and the smell of incense was even stronger.

“Take off your clothes, detka, and lay down.”

Your body submitted to her voice. Mind far from matter, you peeled your own clothes away until you were bare naked and laid down on the bed, feeling the velvety red sheets on your nude skin.

Wanda sauntered towards the end of the bed, feasting upon your nudity with her darkened orbs. Her hands sinking into the mattress, she crawled on all fours onto the bed and towards you. You couldn’t describe what it was you were feeling. The state of your mind was both entranced and clear, sunk deep into murky waters while also soaring high in the clouds. It felt like static buzzing within and around you, and between blimps of momentary unconsciousness you suddenly saw that Wanda was now straddling you, her short black dress resting high on her thighs. You could feel her bare pussy resting on your lower stomach, her hands gliding across your upper abdomen.

“The most perfect thing to have fallen in my hands,” she whispered, her hands snaking over your tits and squeezing them eagerly. A whine escaped your throat, and she looked surprised to see that you were still present. “Still with me, detka? Let’s have a little fun before you go. I like playing with my new toys right out of the package.”

Her magic infiltrating your conscience was hot and feverish like fire, like bits of ember and ash sizzling away at the mass of your cognizance. It trickled down through your skull like lava and burned the inside of your throat. What piece of you was still there tried to file through which exact moment it was that she caught you—as soon as you walked in? When you inhaled the strong incense? Or was it when you sat at the table? Or when you touched the cards? Was it the very moment when you stopped your car in the middle of the road and stared at the blinking purple sign? Could it possibly be the very moment that you looked up at the full moon outside the bar as Nat told you about this place? Which moment was it that she found her way inside your head and stapled the roots of her magic to your mind?

It felt like you were lucid dreaming as the witch’s hands scoured your body, groping at your tits, squeezing the soft flesh of your waist, tickling over your collarbones and neck. You felt pressure on your lower tummy and saw that she was grinding her bare cunt against you, her wetness sliding easily over your skin.

“Silly puppy,” she taunted with a sharp laugh, her hands fondling your breasts as she undulated her hips against you, skirt catching on your waist. Your skin was growing sweaty under her fingers as her magic coursed through your blood like a venomous infection. “A witch doesn’t reveal her tricks, does she?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she let out a soft moan, grinding harder on your stomach as she pinched and tugged harshly at your nipples. Your body reacted with a small gasp and a jolt through your muscles, and she smiled.

Lifting up, she backed herself between your legs and then spread them open wide at an angle, casting one leg over yours. Your breathing picked up as she pressed her clit against yours, grinding her cunt into you.

“Fuck, puppy,” she moaned, throwing her head back as dirty squelching noises filled the room. You were wetter than you had realized, and it was evident by the feeling of both yours and Wanda’s juices mixing together. She pushed your hips upward so that she was at a better angle, halfway folding your body as she used your pussy to get herself off. A drop of your mixed wetness started to slide down your tummy, running over the spot that was still wet from when she had grinded herself there.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, detka,” she grunted, her eyebrows sewing together as the bed started to squeak with her motions. “You just be a good toy and let me use you, and I’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to worry about your ex anymore, or your job, or your friends, or even your life. It’s in my hands now.”

Her feelings of pleasure allowed her focus to slip momentarily, and you took the opportunity to string together words of your own will, still struggling to speak. “P-Please,” you said coarsely, looking at her with pleading eyes. She knew exactly what you meant, because she was inside you with her own mind in yours, and she could feel that coil of pressure in your belly, and you could feel hers, too.

She grinned, grinding her clit harder against yours, reaching up to pinch at your nipples. Your body squirmed, teeth piercing into your own lip as a moan escaped your throat, heavenly pleasure washing over you in an orgasm like a warm ocean wave. Wanda moaned and her hips stuttered as she came, her hand that was holding your leg up squeezing your flesh painfully.

She panted as she came down, and you thought maybe that would satisfy her and she would let you go, but now she was crawling down between your open legs and shoving her face between them.

“Ah!” you whined as her tongue lapped over your throbbing clit, slipping down to push deep inside you and tasting you there. Your body reacted outside of your control, trying to jerk away.

“Be still,” she ordered in a whisper, and your body commanded like a machine, stilling as she continued lapping at your sensitive clit. She suckled and pulled away to spit right on your slit before returning her mouth to you again.

“W-Wanda,” you mouthed, hands squeezing at the sheets as another coil of pressure sprung within your belly. It tightened and tightened as she devoured you, and before you knew it, you were blinded with another orgasm, eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling open as you cried out.

Coming back up, she licked her lips and moaned at your taste, wiping your remnants from her mouth and spreading it over your belly. Your legs were trembling now, clit throbbing painfully, but by the look in her eyes, she was not done.

“You saw all my toys in there,” she spoke as she leaned over you to reach to the nighstand beside the bed, one of her necklaces tickling your nose in a cool metal graze. “But I keep some in here for special pets like you.”

Dumbed down, you didn’t know what she meant until, after hearing her open a drawer and rummage around, she kneeled back down between your legs, holding an uncomfortably large dildo in her hands.

You had the urge to jump off the bed and run away, but her magic had been keeping you pinned to the bed this whole time. You watched with wide eyes as she spit on the dildo and smeared her saliva around it, lowering herself down between your legs again and running the tip of the toy through your folds. Jolts of electricity went through you at the touch on your overstimulated pussy, your voice strings cracking together to sound out a pathetic whine.

“If you’re going to be a good toy, you will take whatever I give you,” she whispered, eyes concentrated on your bright red clit and the way your wet folds moved around the dildo as she teased it through them. “Be a good pet.”

She pushed the tip into your entrance, and for a moment, pleasure coursed through you, but as she pushed it in further and your hole ached to stretch around its girth, you cried out, “T-too b…big.”

“Take it, my dirty slut,” she husked, grabbing your thigh and jerking your legs open wider. Sharp pain filled you as she stuffed your pussy full of the dildo, sinking it all the way inside until the hilt touched your skin, and the tip of it was braced against your cervix. Your mouth fell open at how full you felt, how deep it was, at how much your walls ached and throbbed around it. “That’s it,” she praised, “That’s so good, detka.”

She eased it out, earning a hiss from you, and then forced it back in, doing this slowly until the resistance eased and she started to thrust it harshly into you.

“Look at you, taking the whole thing,” she spoke as she grabbed your knees with her free hand and bent them against your stomach so she could fuck you deeper. Using her magic to keep your knees bent, she placed her free hand on your clit and started to rub it hard.

“No!” you exclaimed, your clit hurting from the contact that it was ultra-sensitive to. You tried to squirm, but you couldn’t, and the dildo was hammering hard into you and poking through the skin of your lower tummy and making your legs turn to jelly. “W-Wanda,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks.

She smirked at you, feasting on the sight of you crying and begging her to stop, wanting to squirm away from the overstimulation. She was trying to break you down even more, dwindle and dumb you down into a messy puddle of nothing, and she was doing a great job of that.

Squelching noises filled the air as she pivoted the dildo into your hole at a rough speed with one hand and rubbed hard at your clit with the other, pausing only to spit on your rubbed raw clit before rubbing it again.

“W-w-w…” You tried to speak, but your mind was so scrambled, and you were in so deep under her spell and her cruel administrations to your body that you couldn’t do anything but scream as two orgasms violently crashed over you one right after the other. You didn’t even notice that you squirted upon the second one, shooting the warm liquid right upon the skin of Wanda’s chest where her dress did not cover.

She twisted the dildo inside you as you came, urging more liquid out of you until finally there was no more, and you were on the brink of blacking out. Finally, she pulled the dildo out of you and put it away, putting your legs back down on the bed and climbing off you.

Your core ached and throbbed as more tears slid down your cheeks, your legs violently trembling. Wanda rounded the bed to place a hand over your forehead. Through teary vision, you took one last glimpse of her.

“You will be my best toy,” she whispered, a dimple forming in her cheek as she smiled before whispering, “Sleep.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!fic #marvel #lgbt #lesbian #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem!reader

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anastasiabowe · 10 months

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can you please do a mike schmidt smut, where he comes home from work and he’s in a bad mood and innocent!reader doesn’t understand he’s in a bad mood and she does something and it makes him mad and he fucks her with no mercy in the living room? is it’s okay if your comfortable doing this it is a little much

Um hello? This prompt is AMAZING?!?🫢

It was around 6:30am when Mike finally arrived home. You hadn’t noticed him come into the house until the loud clanking of glasses and the kitchen sink faucet running. Thankfully, Abby wasn’t home to be woken up by his ruckus.

You sat up in his bed, and pulled down your tank top and made your way towards the kitchen. When you turned the corner, you saw Mike leaning on the sink with a glass of water in his hand. Mike must of heard your quiet steps towards the kitchen, because he inhaled and turned his head a bit, eyeing you down.

“Hi.” You softly said, throat a bit sore from the dry air. He didn’t respond, but lift his hand and gave you a quick wave, not looking at you anymore. He dropped his hand harshly back onto the sink’s rim.

“Are you okay?” You were now standing about 2 feet away from him.

“Yep.” He quickly said, taking another sip of his glass. You noticed the grip he had on the cup was tight, it looked like he was about to break it.

“Y’sure?” You took a baby step closer to him, not wanting to bother him too much since he is tired.

“I said I was fine.” He now was looking at you, head fully turned to your barely clothed frame. You were wearing a tank top, panties, and soft fuzzy socks, since his house got cold at night.

His face flushed red, and he turned his head back, facing away from you and drinking the last of his water.

“You don’t seem fi-“

“Can you just back off?” He dropped the glass in the sink and turned towards you with his hands emphasizing his seriousness.

“I just want to know if your okay!” You step closer to him, trying to grab his hand but he grabbed your neck first.

“Don’t know how to take a hint?” His face was now dangerously close to yours, and you felt extremely helpless in this situation.

“I-I just wanted to see if I could help you feel better!” You whined, grabbing his wrist as his fingers squeezed the sides of your neck, not choking you, but damn near.

He then practically dragged you into the living room, and pushing you hard onto the couch.

“Fucking bitch. Never knows when to stop and leave me alone.” He pulled your legs and propped your lower half onto the couch’s arm. He pulled down your panties and threw them somewhere near the tv.

“Listen, y/n. I’m going to fuck you and your going to take it. If you truly want to help me, you will be a good girl, and let me use you, okay?” He asked, waiting for an answer.

“Okay.” You softly said, ready for him to use you, because you don’t want him to be mad anymore.

“Okay. Thank you, baby.” He said, pushing in. No matter how mad Mike is, he’ll never not be a good boyfriend, he won’t ever be mean to you for too long, because he can’t go too long without praising you in any way, just the guy he is.

You let out a whine as he slowly pounded into you harder and faster.

“Aha!” You arch your back, and he grabs your neck to hold you down.

He used his other hand to hold your waist and pull you towards him so he can reach deeper into you. You cry out in pleasure, as your sweet release was creeping closer and closer.

“Mike!” You cry out to him as you came on his dick.

“Ahh- fuck baby, so good!” He huffed as he started pounding harder and harder, making you scream.

“Mike!” You try to push him away, by scooting away from his thrusts. Like always he just pulls you back and holds onto your hips tighter.

“Almost there baby, I’m almost there.” The arm chair was starting to hurt as your body was constantly rubbing against it. But, despite the overstimulating pain, your were on cloud 10, Mike, thankfully had a good amount of stamina to make you come a couple of times, and so you soon reached your second release, and that threw Mike off.

“Fuck, keep squeezing me like that baby. Fuck!” He pounder even harder as he came inside of you, milking his cock dry. He pumped into you a couple more times, until he finally pulled out, and let your body rest.

He had taken a good look at you, and laughed, proud of what he did, but also grateful.

He had gotten a warm rag, and cleaned you up well, like always. He put on your favorite channel on the tv, and gotten you blankets. He too soon joining you on the couch, no longer in a bad mood.

SORRY FOR NOT POSTING THIS FOR A WHILE!! I liked this prompt too much, but I wasn’t like able to like… think? Like it was in my head but nothing was coming out💀 hopefully I at this up because I don’t think I did especially for how long I worked on this small piece, but LUV YOU🫶🏾🫶🏾😻

#mike schmidt smut #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson smut

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honouredsatoru · 1 year

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I Adore You.

— summary. a headcanon of your body that jjk men adore. it's a request that i lost in my ask section but i still think about it every now and then! i just know this isn't proofread bcs when have i ever? aha.

— warning. NSFW version is under the "keep reading" tab! body worshipping is very much the theme of this headcanon.

— characters. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, choso

— taglist. @shadowarchon @peachsayshi @hisvillainess @noritoshiikamo @laudthingcat @lazy10ieiri @suna-reversed @nkogneatho @amaya-writes @saintgojo @dearestgojo @sassooda @booksweet (always leave me an ask + your age (in case any stuff is nsfw) if wished to be added into the taglist!)

SFW

— gojo satoru : your smile

gojo loves it when your nose is slightly scrunched up when you smile, especially when you're excited with the things you tell him when you got yourself a good cup of matcha latte. he loves it when your gums shows a little when you laugh into your smile. thinks that the genuine happiness your face shows truly makes you the most beautiful person he's ever laid his eyes on.

— geto suguru : your fingers

He makes it a must to hold your hand, to have your fingers intertwined whenever he's around. Which is a lot, considering he wants to focus on you and you alone. He'd nuzzle the tip of his nose on your knuckles, kissing your fingers and your wrists whenever you complained about it aching. His phone is filled with your nail art because he says it's as pretty as you, and he'd make a 3D cast of you two holding hands if he could. And he would.

— nanami kento : your neckline

ah. nanami's favourite place to land his lips on. those soft, sensual kisses he placed there, it brings jolts of electricity to your very spine, no? his hands love focusing on your neck line whenever you complained of your shoulders aching, massaging you gently, careful to not make you feel any more pain. and that necklace he gave you. doesn't it make your neckline look so pretty?

— toji fushiguro : your waist

he won't stop squeezing your sides, whenever he's near you. his arms circle around your waist as he pulls you close, pressing his body against yours, muttering to him just how lucky he is. toji's eyes stayed focus on you when you put on your favourite pair of jeans, a string of chuckles escaping from his lips the moment you complained how the waistband never sticks.

— choso : your eyes

the way it crinkles when you smile, the way your eyes light up when you see your favourite idol, artists, pictures of your pets as you take them. he loves it when you sneeze and your eyes water slightly. He loves it when your brows furrow when you get stressed from finishing whatever you have to do when chasing the deadline or when you're worried. He loves it when you used eyeliner or mascara and it makes your eyes pop. to choso, there's love, warmth, happiness, sadness, grief and joy in your eyes.

NSFW

— gojo satoru : your breasts

He loves how soft it feels whenever he gives you a gentle a squeeze whilst making out or when he's fucking you from behind. Your nipples are sensitive and it shows when your body twitches when it is pinched, twisted and licked. Oh how he loves sucking them, and that contorted look on your face that is of lust and pleasure? He lives for it.

— geto suguru : your ass

Just like Gojo, he has a thing for something soft and plump for his hands to latch onto. His lips curled into a soft smile as he gives your rear end a gentle spank. He loves how your favourite pair of cargo pants hugs your figure. And his little habit is to have you walk in front of him whenever you enter a place because it gives him that perfect view of your derrière.

"I hate it to see them leave but I love it when they walk away." Cheeky.

— nanami kento : your tummy

his canvas, as he says before he finishes it off with his cum spurting out of his cock and lands beautifully on your stomach, absolutely in love with the way it rises up and down, following your chest as you tried catching your breath. it makes his dick twitch, so perfect to his eyes. hah. you are indeed the sorcerer's greatest muse.

— toji fushiguro : your whole body

how it shakes after he's done with you. how your body grows limp when you've reached your high. how your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he leans down to kiss you on your lips whilst fucking you like there's no tomorrow. he loves it so so much when you're on your fours and he admires your body line, the way your neck to your chest are filled with faint bite marks yet apparent hickeys.

— choso : your fingers

such pretty digits, he'd say to himself as he watches you stretching your abused hole, making you finger yourself while his eyes lingers on you. And it bumps his ego up a notch when you can't even wrap your fingers perfectly around his girth. How your fingers molded nicely with his when he held your hands as he fucks you stupid, kissing them, placing them next to his cheek as he admires you.

all writing belongs to honouredsatoru.

reblogs are appreciated. ♡

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phinkslave · 3 months

Note

Could you do #1, 11 and 12 with phinks? You don’t have to do all of them but I loveee the prompts

Unbreakable bond

1: “I want to hear you beg.”

11: “Don’t close your eyes. Look at me. “

12: “You’re mine.”

Of course! I truly hope you like this aha since it is my first ever piece of writing. I tried my best, and if u think I need any tips or so on let me know! I didn’t make it as dark as I would have hoped for but please enjoy. 🫶🏼

Warnings: Smut, minor violence, noncon (sort of), yandere behavior

It’s been around two months since he’s taken you. You’ve dreaded every moment. Simple things like watching movies or even reading books didn’t interest you anymore, but you had to pretend. You were scared to show any protest against him. He was dangerous. He was strong. You wanted was freedom, but the question was how? How would you get away from him. He’s stronger, faster, and just more able than you’ll ever be. Knowing that just made you feel hopeless. You’re trapped forever.

__________________________________________

“Listen, me and the troupe got a mission. It’ll take at least a whole day so, if you want any take out or such, let me know.” Phinks said as he entered your guys’ shared room.

Well you insist to sleep on the couch but, he’d never let that slide.

You could only manage to mumble a little “okay.” In his direction, not even looking him. Which he seemed to have expected. Phinks has always been a patient man, and as much as you hate to admit, he was trying his best to treat you nice, be all sweet, to tend to all your needs. You sort of appreciated how kind he was, especially after hearing how his friend feitan broke his girlfriend’s legs. You shuddered at the thought. It reminded you just how much you needed to get out of this place. Phinks had enough strength to break your fingers with a pinch.

“I think we’ll be heading someplace near Yorknew. I heard they got great snacks. Ya interested?” He said in an attempt to cheer you up a bit.

Phinks saying that shook you out of your thoughts, he distrupted your mental plan on how to get the hell out of his little apartment he keeps you in meteor city.

“No.”

“Really? Nothing at all? Heh fine, starve for all I care.”

Then there it was. His annoyed side. Phinks can be a sweetheart, but he can also get upset just as fast.

After spending a few hours in the room, you left. Heading to the kitchen since you finally started feeling the hunger in your stomach. You can only resist food for so long. In the kitchen was a troubled looking phinks who was on the phone.

“I just don’t like this ide-…ima have to call you back nobu.” Is what he said as soon as his eyes laid on you.

“Hey babe, ya hungry?”

“Mhm.”

“Sorry about earlier……do you want anything specific? I’ll bring it to you.”

“No.”

He just watched you as you grabbed an apple and started heading back to the room.

“Hey hey hold on..” grabbing your forearm.

“What.” Poison lacing your tone.

He made an audible loud sigh.

“Listen. I get your upset, I know you wanna go home, but you got to give me more than that. Come on, i just want you to forever be protected. I love you.”

“Well I don’t.” Snatching your arm away with much atitude.

Before you could turn around again he slammed you against the wall, shaking some famous art pieces he stole that were hung up the wall. The slam didn’t hurt, but it was just so aggressive. Tears started to immediately form.

“Listen.” His tone being the most angry you’ve heard so far. “I am trying my best to be the good guy here. Do you know how fucking hard you’re making this for me?”

At this point your tearing up.

“I might as well let it out now. You’re not leaving me. Ever. Okay. Understand that, this, this place is your new home. Understand that, because I won’t have the patience to explain it to you again. You’re mine. Nothing you do will change that. If you think you can leave. Understand that you won’t ever. You love me. And I love you. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes.” Trying not to let sobs spill.

“Good.” He said smiling, wiping your tears. “Now none of that, you know I hate it when you cry.”

He hugged your shaky body.

__________________________________________

That was just 3 weeks ago, but all this boredom being in the house made it feel like a few days back.

Since then you and phinks have made lots of progress. Him being the only person interaction you get, sort of made you have no other choice. If you didn’t treat phinks like a friend, you think you’d truly go insane.

Relationship progress wise, the farthest you and him have ever gone was just a measly makeout. Each time sitting on his lap, facing him, you could feel how hard you’d make him. Which boosted your confidence. Slyly rocking your hips to get him more worked up.

It was amusing. You tried to tell yourself it was okay, making out and basically riding your kidnapper shouldn’t be okay, but overtime you’ve began to like phinks, besides he was pretty handsome, and his little jokes he’d make every now and then, or even how on every mission back he would bring you a stuffed animal or some chocolates.

Thankfully for yourself, he’s never gone as far as you’d like. Limiting himself to only where you’d start and stop. Knowing full well he could pin you down and take whatever he wanted was a thought you’d resurface every now and then, but you trusted him more and more.

Time went on and the more needy you got. Makeouts werent satisfying you enough.

Phinks just got home from a mission.

__________________________________________

“Hey, I was hoping we could watch a movie tonight or something.” You said greeting him at the door.

“Yeah, whatever’s fine.” Giving you a worn out smile and a peck on the lips. “I’m just gonna tidy up a bit.” Clearly dirty from whatever fights he got into.

“Okay! I’ll set up.” You said all cheery.

The thing is, you were hoping to have sex tonight. Being a virgin you want it to be special, but of course phinks didn’t know that. You put some snacks on the table as well as some drinks. A little alcohol won’t ever hurt. Dimming the lights putting some fluffy blankets on the couch and now all that was left to do was click play for the movie.

Around 10 minutes has passed and you got bored having to wait on him so long.

“Phinks! You’re taking so longggg.” You said in a whiny voice.

No response.

“ugh! Phinks.” Getting up you checked the bathroom, and he wasn’t there. So you went to your guys’ bedroom and there he was. Laying in bed, not even under the covers, as if he fell asleep as soon as he made contact with the bed. Wearing nothing but some sweats and a grey tank top.

You were a bit frustrated, but then again it was so adorable seeing his chest rise up and down so slowly. You had an idea.

Walking up to him, you got on top, straddling his waist. His eyes opened, all droopy.

“Sorry sorry, I swear they were just shut.” He said all groggy.

“It’s okay, we can do other things….” Leaning down to kiss him, trailing down from his jaw to his neck.

You felt his jaw tense up a bit under your kisses, and soon feeling his hands grip your wait somewhat harsh.

“This is better than a movie.” He thought he could be subtle about it, but you felt his tiny grinds against your clothed core. But you played along, grinding against him as needy as ever, letting a few whines drop from your lips, he got the memo.

“It’s like that?” He said smirking up at you, all you managed to do was let out a few huffs, getting tired already dry humping him.

He got up, you still straddling his waist. Turned around and laid you gently on the bed. Hearing a few silent protests from you due to the lack of contact.

He took his tank top off, you finally realizing just how built this man was. It looked like his abs had abs, he had such a prominent v-line, and his arms were bigger then your remember. “Like what you see?” He said all cocky, clearly noticing how in awe you were. But it didn’t do nothing but make you nervous. What if he didn’t like your body?

“Just touch me already?”

“Oh it’s not as simple as that, ya know how long you’ve made me wait? I want to hear you beg.”

“I am not begging.”

“That’s a shame….” He leaned over picking up his tank top, but before he could put it on again,

“Okay okay fine….please….just touch me.”

“Boringgg, that’s the best you can do?”

“I will bite you.”

“Yeah yeah, your lucky your cute.” He leaned down taking your tshirt off. “No bra?” Bending down to suck your nipple, causing you to get out some more moans. Geez, he knew how to work his mouth. He got up again from leaning down, this time taking his and yours pants off, being left in nothing but your underwear’s. First, he took yours off, clearly noticing your embarrassment “you’re so beautiful.”

Using his hands to open your legs more apart allowing his fingers room to gently start caressing your clit.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I need you begging.”

This time you didn’t care, you needed him, you had to.

“Please phinks, please I need you so bad, I crave-“ before you could finish you yelped, feeling a finger enter you, causing you to squirm so much he had to hold u down a bit with his other hand.

“Tell me how much you love me.” Adding another finger.

“I love you! I love you so so much.”

“Geez, this wet for me babe?”

“Mhm all for you-“ you stopped talking, being to focused on his fingers in you. And he let you, silently smirking to himself, letting you to enjoy the feeling. As soon as your legs started shaking, he moved his fingers.

“Can’t have you finishing already now can we?”

You looked at him all teary eyed due to your almost orgasm, cheeks all red.

“Keep looking at me like that I’ll finish before you.” He said in a chuckle, racing to let his cock free.

You watched how it sprung against his stomach as soon as he let it out. Kind of scared and regretting all of this. What would he think when he knew you were a virgin? Would that even fit?

He gave himself a few pumps, “we don’t need no condom.” He said, approaching you again, but this time you scooted yourself across the bed a bit, giving distance between you two.

“I don’t think it will fit.”

“Of course it will, c’mere babe.”

“No.”

“What? What’s wrong? You being f’real right now?”

You looked at him all nervous before he let out a sigh. Grabbing you by your ankles causing you to be as close as he needed.

“Don’t be silly, we were doing so well.” Aligning himself with your entrance.

“Stop phinks I’m serious.”

“Nah. Don’t worry you got this alright?”

Trying to scoot away again he held your wrists down.

“I’m a virgin!” You yelped out.

He looked at you. Chuckling.

“Is that what’s got you so worked up? Sweetheart, if anything that’s better, anyways I’ll be gentle yeah?”

“Please phinks….”

“You know you wanted this so bad, I’m just tryna give you what you what.”

Despite your protests, he held your wrists above your head with one hand in order to have his other free to guide his tip inside. You shut your eyes. He stopped as soon as he saw.

“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me.”

When you didn’t listen he got frustrated. He gave your face a few light but harsh taps, and then grabbed a hold of your neck.

“Listen to me.”

Your eyes opened. But this time you were sobbing uncontrollably.

“Good girl. Hey hey, none of that just let me take care of you baby.” Wiping some of your tears.

“I don’t want this.”

“Sure you do, you just don’t know it yet.”

And with that, he slowly entered, he made no effort to hide his grunts, holding eye contact with you as his hand around your throat didn’t allow you to move your head around.

As soon as he felt him ease into you, he let go of your wrists and neck allowing you to grip the bedsheets freely and him holding your hips.

“Feel better now?” His head in your neck, rocking his hips at a painfully slow pace. He wanted you to adjust first for a few minutes. It took all of him to not just start slamming into you.

“Nhm hm.” You said, holding your moans inside, your arms wrapping around his neck.

Eventually his pace fastened, and you couldn’t hold your moans in anymore, his thrusts getting harder since your moans were encouragement to him.

“ ‘m bout to phinks-!”

“No, not yet.” He said and he started to rub your clit. He knew you’d cum, but he liked the thought of him fucking your overstimulated body.

“Is t’much!” You squirming trying to push him off.

“Almost baby, almost.” And with that you came undone under him, shaking vigorously, cumming on his cock. That sight alone was enough to almost have him undone.

“Stop! Stop!” You screamed out, pushing against him but he just grabbed your wrists, pinning them on your tummy with your arms crossed.

“A bit more.” He said through his teeth, as he finally came undone inside you. the feeling of his cum still causing you to shake. After a minute of him laying on you, both of you out of breath, he finally pulled out, you shuddered at the feeling of cum dripping out of you. He left, and came back with some napkins, wiping you clean.

“Sorry about the mess….” He broke the silence.

“Can we sleep now…” you confused on the whole situation. You didn’t know if you liked what had just happened or if it was against your will.

“Sure.” He said, lifting you up so he could pull the covers down, and climbed into bed next to you.

Letting your thoughts drift you to sleep as he kissed your temple, the last words you heard was a cheeky I love you.

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c-e-d-dreamer · 11 months

Text

Barbarian Bat: Part Three

A/N: Let's all just pretend that I'm not super behind on writing and updating.... aha? But I hope everyone enjoys this next part! We're getting angsty up in here.

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part

Nesta’s heart pounds between her ribs, the thrumming beat in time with every hurried step through the snow. She’s half aware of the cold biting across the skin of her cheeks, of the numbness beginning to creep into her fingers, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than forcing air into her lungs, forcing it around the lump pressing painfully in her throat. Her whole chest feels hollowed out, feels bruised and empty, and she can feel the familiar prickle of tears burning just behind her eyes.

The snow and the trees pass by in a watery blur, but Nesta keeps pushing forward. She refuses to give in to the dread that weighs heavy in her gut, refuses to give in to the darkness swirling in tighter and tighter and threatening to pull her under. Perhaps, if she keeps walking far enough, she’ll finally wake up back in her bed in her tiny apartment back on earth.

“Nes!”

Nesta takes a moment to close her eyes, a near hysterical laugh bubbling up and out of her. Of course. Of course, he followed her. Of course, she’s never truly allowed a second of peace.

“Nesta!”

“You are quite literally the last person I want to see right now,” Nesta calls over her shoulder, rolling her eyes.

“Nes, please. Stop.”

“I’m serious. Leave me alone.”

Nesta hears Cassian let out an annoyed huff, hears him jog through the snow to catch up to her. “If you are going to storm off, at least do it in a different direction.”

“Just because we’ve resonated that doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do, you insufferable alien,” Nesta seethes, trying to pick up her pace.

“And your stubbornness is walking you straight into Metlak territory.”

Nesta whirls back around to face him, her hands clenched into fists at her side. “Didn’t you know? I’m the stubborn one. The scary one. So why don’t you take a hint from the rest of the tribe and finally just steer clear?”

Cassian frowns, and even across the distance still between them, Nesta can see the pained look that mars his expression as he presses a hand to his chest. “You are my mate. The one my khui has chosen as mine.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be.”

“Yes, you have made that perfectly clear. I am sorry. I am sorry that your khui did not choose someone better for you. I am sorry that it is me you are stuck with.”

The words hit Nesta hard enough that her breath stutters for a moment, cracks ricocheting through her chest. The defensive quip dies on her tongue, any other words tangling into a tight knot.

How could he not know? How could he not know that she had been drawn into his gravity from the moment she laid eyes on him? How could he not know that every teasing remark, every smile, every laugh he directed her way left something warm and dangerous blooming within her that Nesta refuses to name? How could he not know that he is all that is good and brave and kind, and it is her that does not deserve him?

“Cassian…”

But Nesta trails off as Cassian’s eyes widen, his attention drifting firmly over her shoulder. He looks nothing short of alarmed, and it has every hair on the back of Nesta’s neck rising, anxiety beginning to spark in her veins. Tentatively, she turns back around and comes face to face with a pair of large, round eyes. The white fur of the creature is dirty and splotted with brown spots, and when Nesta takes in a gasping breath, she’s hit with what smells a lot like a wet dog. The creature tilts its head, peering up at her almost curiously, before opening its beak-like mouth and giving Nesta a perfect view of its fangs.

Nesta tries to slowly back away, but her feet have sunk too deeply, her snowshoes catching and dragging in the snow until she’s toppling backwards and landing with a quiet cry of surprise. The metlak lets out some sort of call, a sound that reminds Nesta of an owl hooting, and then two more creatures are stepping out from the tree line and approaching her.

“Nesta!”

Nesta's heart stutters and pounds in her chest, and she tries to scramble back away from the creatures, away from their large unblinking eyes that are pinned on her, away from their mouths full of fangs. Another hooting sound and that first metlak dares to take a step closer to her, Nesta's whole body locking up with a full body flinch in anticipation of an attack.

A roar sounds from behind her, and Nesta can do nothing but gape as Cassian goes rushing forward and barrels into the group of metlaks. The creatures are quick to fight back, arms swinging and dragging their claws against his skin. Cassian reaches to pull his knife free from his belt, but one of the metlaks sinks its fangs into his arm, and he lets out a pained shout of surprise as his knife falls into the snow.

With a growl, Cassian throws his arm out and shakes the metlak free, sending the creature sailing through the air until it goes crumbling into the snow. The other metlaks are briefly distracted by their fallen comrade, so Cassian whirls around, his hands sifting through the snow to find his missing knife. But the distraction is short lived, and soon, the two remaining metlaks have their attention solely back on Cassian, letting out more of those ominous hooting sounds.

“Cassian!” Nesta screams out in warning. “Cassian!”

Cassian looks up in alarm just as one of the metlaks pounces, claws and fangs burying into his back. He turns around before the remaining metlak can join the attack, kicking out his leg and sending it back toward the tree line. His hands reach back to try and grasp at the metlak still attached to him, but the creature rears its head back and takes another bite out of Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian stumbles, dropping down to one knee and clearly in pain. Nesta can’t take anymore, can’t just sit by and watch. She pushes back to her feet and rushes forward. She spies Cassian’s abandoned knife, scooping it up out of the snow as she goes. She curls her fingers tight around the hilt, drawing her hand back and swinging forward until the carved bone is embedded deep in the metlak's fur. The metlak lets out an anguished sound, squirming until warm red spills across Nesta’s hands and between her fingers, but it releases its hold on Cassian and collapses at their feet.

Nesta’s chest is heaving, and the knife slips from her grip as she staggers back a step. She swallows hard around the bile threatening to rise up in her throat, blinking down at the metlak blood staining her skin. A finger beneath her chin has her gaze raising and meeting a pair of eyes glowing with concern.

“Are you well, Nes?”

A hysterical laugh threatens to bubble up out of her at the question. “You’re the one who was just attacked, and you’re asking me if I’m well?”

Nesta reaches her hand up in the space between them, trying to put pressure on the wound left behind from the metlak’s claws on Cassian’s chest. Between the way her fingers have started to tremble and the slickness of the blood, her hand slips against his skin, but Cassian’s own fingers curl gently around her wrist, halting her movements. With everything that’s happened, the touch shouldn’t be as warm and grounding as it is, but there’s no denying the calming feeling that washes over her.

“Do not worry about me,” Cassian tells her as he reaches down and grabs his knife, standing up with a grimace. “We must get you somewhere safe, away from metlak territory.” Cassian looks up and around them, taking in their surroundings. “I know this area. There is a hunter cave not far.”

Somehow, numbly, Nesta nods her head. She stumbles back to where their packs are laying in the snow, shouldering the weight of both of them. Cassian tries to take them from her, but she holds firm, especially as blood continues to slide along his skin in streaks of red. He seems less than impressed, but he leads the way through the snow, keeping his knife raised and ready in case of another attack.

Thankfully, they really don’t need to walk too far before reaching the hunter cave, but Nesta still lets out an exhausted sigh as she drops their packs to the floor. She goes to move the privacy screen into place at the cave entrance, but a pained grunt draws her attention back to Cassian. He’s dropped to his knees, whatever adrenaline that was keeping him going now gone.

He winces as he pulls his vest off and tosses it aside, and Nesta gets her first look at just how bad the wounds to his back are. The gashes are deep and still bleeding, the one at his shoulder where that metlak bit him especially gruesome. When Cassian falls forward, just barely catching himself with his hand, Nesta rushes to his side. She drops to her own knees beside him, stretching an arm across his waist to try and hold him up.

“You need to see Madja,” Nesta tells him, eyes raking over the concerningly high number of scratches and gashes. “We need to get you back to the main cave.”

Cassian shifts enough that he can slide his palm along Nesta’s cheek, thumb skating across her skin. The way his eyes droop and are unfocused has fear spearing icy cold through Nesta’s chest, twisting tighter and tighter until it hurts to squeeze air into her lungs. She curls her fingers around his wrist, squeezing hard and holding him there. Holding him here with her.

“Cassian…”

“My mate,” Cassian whispers, his words slightly slurred. “Safe.”

Cassian’s eyes flutter closed, and then he’s slumping forward, Nesta just barely able to brace him and the dead weight before his face makes contact with the stone floor of the cave.

“Shit,” Nesta whispers to herself, giving Cassian’s shoulder a shake but he doesn’t move or make a sound. “Shit shit shit… Okay… Okay.”

Nesta closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, steadying herself and willing her thundering heart to calm. She can do this. She has to do this. With a determined nod, Nesta pushes back up to her feet. She goes over to where she dropped their packs, rooting around in Cassian’s until she finds his flint. She finds fuel in one of the baskets tucked along the far wall of the cave, stacking them in the makeshift fire pit the way she’s seen the other members of the tribe do before.

It takes a few strikes of the flint, but finally, Nesta is able to get sparks. She holds her breath until the sparks grow into proper flames, the orangey glow quickly filling the cave. She grabs their waterskins next, stepping just outside of the cave and filling them both with snow before setting them above the now crackling fire to melt. It takes some tugging on Nesta’s part, but she’s able to drag the heavy privacy screen in place over the cave entrance, trapping the warmth from the fire in with them.

Nesta uses the first waterskin to pour the now melted water over her hands and clean them, and then she turns back to Cassian and his wounds. She frowns and tilts her head, trying to determine the best next steps. She doesn’t exactly have a first aid kit handy on this planet. She decides to reach for her furs, untying them from her pack.

She takes Cassian’s knife and slices the furs into strips, cutting the final strip into squares. She crushes some soap berries into the waterskin and dips the first square of fur into the sudsy water. She keeps her touch careful and gentle as she cleans each of Cassian’s wounds. Amazingly, some of the more shallow scratches have already begun to heal, his khui clearly working hard and quickly.

She covers the worst of his wounds with the strips of fur, finding some twine in Cassian’s pack to tie the ones on his shoulder in place, then sits back on her haunches with a soft sigh. She only allows herself a moment before pushing back to her feet. She discards the now pile of bloody furs and dumps the dirty water. It takes some awkward maneuvering with Cassian’s large body, but Nesta is able to roll out his furs and get him into them.

He hasn’t moved or made a sound since he lost consciousness, but his chest continues to move up and down with each breath, and when Nesta presses the palm of her hand there, she can feel the beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. With nothing to keep her hands or her mind busy anymore, it’s hard to stop the dark thoughts that swirl and roll in like storm clouds. A lump presses in against her throat, her stomach churning as she grips at the leathers of her clothing until her knuckles turn white. She has no idea if she’s done enough, no idea if Cassian will be able to heal, if he’ll even wake up. And she has no idea where they are. No idea how to contact anyone from the main cave to get help.

“Please don’t die on me,” Nesta whispers, brushing the dark strands of Cassian’s hair out of his face. “You can’t die on me, you stupid alien, you hear me?”

Nesta holds vigil until exhaustion sinks into her limbs and threatens to tug her under. Until her eyelids start to droop and she has to shake herself to keep them open. She curls up beside Cassian, keeping her hand firmly on his chest, on his still beating heart. She allows the assurance that, for now, he’s okay to wash over her, allows the steady thrum under her hand to finally lull her to sleep.

It’s the cold beneath her hands that she feels first. Cold and hard, and when she curls her fingers, it’s the distinct feel of metal beneath her touch. In a second, her eyes snap open, taking in the white, clinical walls, the various metal panels, the flashing lights. Fear grips her tight enough that Nesta swears she’s being burned from the inside out by its icy grip. She opens her mouth, tries to scream, but all there is is a lump pressing into her throat.

Nesta tries to sit up, tries to clamber off the table, but she can’t seem to get her limbs to work. It’s like she’s pinned down, like she’s paralyzed, and that fear turns into a full blown panic, clawing at her chest and leaving it heaving. She thrashes her head, trying to escape, but as she turns to the right, she realizes she’s not alone in this room.

Cassian is sprawled across the floor, and it takes Nesta a moment too long to realize that his eyes are staring unblinking up at the ceiling, that his chest isn’t moving. In fact, the longer she stares, the more gashes that seem to appear across his skin, blood gurgling and pooling beneath him. Nesta thrashes harder against her invisible restraints, tries desperately to reach for him as the familiar sting at the back of his eyes blurs her vision.

Nesta wakes with a jolt, Cassian’s name weighing heavy on the tip of her tongue. Her heart pounds between her ribs, squeezing and twisting in a way that leaves a steady ache. Her stomach roils, and she’s confident that if she had anything in her gut, she’d have lost it. Her breath still heaves out of her as she turns her attention to Cassian, but he hasn’t moved, his condition still the same as before she fell asleep.

She lets out a quiet breath and lays back down beside him, tries to lull herself back under, but sleep does not come easily, and it’s fitful for the rest of the night. By the time pale morning light starts to creep into the cave around the privacy screen, she feels more exhausted than any sort of rested. Her chest still aches like a festering wound, her limbs heavy as she shifts and stretches.

But Nesta still pulls herself up. She slides the back of her hand along Cassian’s temple and cheek, and she frowns at the way his skin feels warm, like he’s practically radiating heat. Does that mean he has a fever? That his wounds are infected? How is she supposed to know what the normal temperature of an alien is? She peels back each of the strips of fur to check, but almost all of his wounds have closed up, even the worst of them scabbed over.

“Cassian,” Nesta tries, gently shaking his shoulder.

Cassian lets out a quiet groan, a soft murmur that Nesta can’t quite make out what he’s saying, but she decides any sound is a good sign. She quickly adds more fuel and stokes the fire back to life, tugging the privacy screen back enough that she can reach a hand out and pack more snow into a waterskin, melting it down. She adds soap berries and takes the time to reclean all of Cassian’s wounds, carefully laying the strips of fur back in place and tucking him back in.

By the time Nesta has finished, her stomach seems set on being louder than even her khui, and she knows she’ll need to venture out of the safety of the cave. She grabs Cassian’s knife and keeps it poised in her hand as she slowly pulls back the privacy screen the rest of the way and peeks her head outside. When she’s sure the coast is clear, she steps out properly into the snow and the two suns already sitting high in the sky.

Nesta knows that the hunters have caches near each of the caves. She knows that she just needs to find the tree that has the markings in the bark to indicate where this cave’s cache is. She heads for the tree line, making sure she keeps the cave in her line of sight at all times as she wanders through the snow. Her eyes scan the different trunks until she finally spots the one with knife markings on it. She drops to her knees and digs through the snow until she finds a quillbeast buried there, tugging it free and piling the snow back on top of the cache.

It’s messy and imperfect, skinning the quillbeast when she makes it back to the hunter cave, and it takes much longer than Nesta thought it would but she makes it work. She cooks the meat over the fire and nibbles on the pieces, occasionally glancing toward Cassian to check on him. She’s going to need a proper plan soon. A long term plan soon.

But for right now, all Nesta can think about is how gross she feels. The trek to the Elder cave and everything that’s happened since then hasn’t exactly lent itself to the opportunity to bathe and she’s certainly feeling it. Her braid is practically crusted over with grease, and there’s a layer of grime and sweat clinging to her skin that has her nose scrunching in distaste.

She clambers up to her feet, grabbing one of the waterskins and making for the cave entrance. Darkness has started to creep in outside, and Nesta swears she can feel eyes staring at her from behind the tree line. It has her shuttering, memories of the metlaks still fresh in her mind. She makes quick work of packing the waterskin with snow and securing the privacy screen firmly back in place, some of the tension finally loosening from her shoulders when she’s sat safely back at the fire.

She sets the waterskin above the fire to melt the snow and gets started on her hair while she waits, tugging the leather strap free and carefully unwinding the strands. She digs a bone comb out of her pack and uses it to work through the tangles. By the time she finishes, the snow has melted and the water has warmed, so she crushes up some soap berries, lathering up her hair and carefully rinsing the strands.

Just that one thing already has her feeling infinitely better, but she peels off her shirt and sets it aside. She uses the spare squares of fur to scrub and rinse down her arms, along her shoulders, across her collarbones. Her khui begins to sing loudly in her chest, sending vibrations skittering through her veins, heat creeping up her spine, and her hands pause their movements. A shudder takes over her body, her breath catching in her throat, as if it knows what’s happening before her mind catches up.

She didn’t even hear him get up. Didn’t hear him move across the cave and closer to her. But now she can hear the way his own khui answers the song of her own, can feel the warmth radiating off him as much as the fire in front of her.

Despite his overly large hands, Cassian’s touch is surprisingly gentle. The tips of his fingers whisper across her exposed shoulder, tracing shapes and patterns along the skin. Nesta can feel her heart starting to trip over itself between her ribs, can hear her damn khui practically screaming away, but she can’t find it within herself to move away from him, can scarcely breathe. Goosebumps bloom down her arm at his touch, and she hates it.

She hates his tenderness and his kindness and the fact she doesn’t deserve it. She hates the way their khuis sing and twine together, filling the space of the cave around them. She hates the way she wants to lean back into him, to give in until she’s consumed. But, instead, she stares resolutely at the shadows cast across the cave walls from the fires, focusing on anything other than this big, blue alien and his intense stares and his easy smiles and his charming words and his boisterous laughter and his stupid gentle touches to her shoulder.

She tries to focus on being back on that spaceship with her sisters, back to what she left behind on earth. Tries to focus on every barely sutured wound, every chink in her armor weighing her down and promising to pull her under. Tries to focus on the sorry bruised and battered state of her heart, not even close to worthy of being offered over.

Cassian switches his attention to her other shoulder, fingers still tracing those soft, aimless patterns. The shuddering breath that tumbles past Nesta’s lips sounds too loud even to her own ears, but his touches don’t falter, and she swallows hard, forcing herself to find her voice again.

“Freckles,” she breathes, turning her head enough that she can meet his gaze. It’s a mistake, their faces now close together, but she pushes on anyway. “They’re places where the skin goes darker. Often from the sun.”

“Free-kels,” Cassian repeats, his brows dipping as he focuses on speaking the word.

Nesta snorts amusedly at the pronunciation attempt. “Close enough.”

Cassian drops his gaze back to her shoulder, his fingers resuming their movements. “Your sisters have them too.”

“Yes. Feyre on her nose, and Elain on her cheeks. I have mine on my shoulders.”

“I like them.”

He says the words so genuinely, almost reverently, and Nesta’s heart gives a traitorous squeeze in her chest. That tightness only seems to grow when Cassian shifts his head, his mouth brushing along the same path his fingers had traced moments before. Nesta closes her eyes, letting the feeling wash over her, but her eyes snap back open again when Cassian’s hand skates across her cheek. She blinks in surprise at the tear he caught, not even realizing it had slipped free.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian murmurs, shifting away from her.

The loss of his presence and his warmth is jarring, the cold seeping in around her and sinking its claws into her. She wraps her arms tightly around herself, her bottom lip finding home between her teeth.

“I had this boyfriend back on earth,” Nesta begins, her voice quiet. She’s not sure where the need to tell him comes from, but once she starts, the words continue to flow out of her. “Sort of like a pleasure mate, I guess. But he was… cruel. He was awful. He made me feel weak. And when I finally left him, I swore to myself that I would never feel weak again. But I did. On that spaceship. Waking up there and seeing Elain and Feyre and knowing there was nothing I could do to save them. That I couldn’t save them. I felt just as powerless again. I want to stop feeling weak and powerless.”

Cassian reaches across the space between them, settling his hand overs and stopping her from twisting her fingers into knots. “I could train you, if you want. Teach you how to use our hunting weapons, so you can always protect yourself. So you will always feel strong.”

For a moment, Nesta can do nothing but stare at him, her heart lodged firmly in her throat and tangling with the words there. This is a ledge, one that she can’t come back from if she steps off it, and the ground is shaky beneath her feet. If Cassian picks up on her trepidation, he doesn’t let on. He merely watches her quietly, patiently, his thumb sliding almost soothingly along the back of her hand.

“And what if I decide to use those skills to fight you?” Nesta teases lightly, hoping to steer the conversation back to familiarity, to steady footing.

“Then I would know that I trained you well,” Cassian tells her sincerely. “I would be proud of you.”

Nesta pulls her hands free from Cassian’s touch, turning her attention fully back to the fire. “You should be resting. You shouldn’t be up. You’re still healing.”

Cassian lets out a soft sigh, but Nesta can’t bear to turn and look at him, to see the expression she’s sure is on his face. She hears him move away, the shuffles as he moves back toward the furs. She bites her lip to keep it from trembling, grabbing her shirt and yanking it back on.

“What is your plan then?” Cassian asks from behind her. “We will have to go back to the main cave.”

“I know,” Nesta murmurs, curling her knees up against her chest.

“Rhys is a good leader. He will not force… it will be your choice, but we will not be able to keep it a secret any longer. Everyone will know that we have resonated.”

“Maybe just you should go back to the cave then. Then, no one will know your mate is the scary one.”

“You think that is what I wish?”

Nesta lets out a dry, mocking laugh, whirling around to face him. “It’s what you should want. There’s something wrong with me.”

Cassian frowns, tilting his head curiously. “Are you well, Nes? We will have Madja speak with your khui. We will fix it.”

“You don’t get it,” Nesta huffs frustrated, barely stopping her eye roll. “You can’t fix it. They can’t even fix it back on earth. It’s… it’s inside my head. In my mind.”

Cassian’s expression is pained as he watches her, like his own heart is breaking at the admission. He hesitates for a second before closing the distance between them again, his hands reaching up to frame her face. He presses his forehead against hers, each touch so gentle, so caring, and Nesta’s vision starts to blur.

“Then tell me how I can help. Tell me how to ease this pain in your head.”

Nesta shakes her head, swallowing down a choked sob before it can escape. “I’m telling you. You can’t. I’m broken.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Cassian tells her fiercely, his thumbs catching every tear that slips free and slides down her cheeks. “Because there is nothing broken to fix.”

“You just don’t understand,” Nesta scoffs.

“And you do not see what I see. I know that you are hurting. That these males in your past have hurt you. But I see how you still walk with your head held high. You are still so strong. I see how fiercely you care for your sisters, that you would do anything for them. I see everything that you do at the cave and everything that you are doing now, and I am honored that my khui has chosen you as my mate.”

Nesta pulls her face free from Cassian’s grip, scrubbing the back of her hand against her cheeks. “I thought I told you to rest.”

“You need to rest too.”

“I will.”

Cassian scrutinizes her for a moment, but when he finally seems satisfied with what he sees, he nods his head. He moves back over to the furs, but rather than slip beneath them, he begins to rearrange them, fluffing them up, preparing them.

“What are you doing?” Nesta demands even though she already knows the answer. “Cassian.”

“I will not have my mate be cold,” Cassian explains, as if it’s that simple, shifting the furs closer to the fire.

“I’m not the one who’s injured. You’re still healing.”

“I do not care.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at that, crossing her arms across her chest. “Gods, you can be so stubborn, did you know that?”

“Then we are evenly matched,” Cassian tells her, meeting her gaze head on.

Nesta sighs, already knowing she’s going to regret this. “Fine. We can share. Then everyone wins. Just… just don’t make it weird.”

Cassian’s expression betrays nothing, but he gestures toward the furs for her to go first. With another roll of her eyes, Nesta moves and slips beneath the furs. She shifts as far to the edge as she can, keeping her back to Cassian as he clambers beneath the furs beside her. She relaxes once he’s settled, but it’s short lived when his arms reach out and curl around her, tugging her back into his chest.

“Cassian,” Nesta warns between clenched teeth.

“I am not making it weird. I am merely helping to keep you warm.”

It's a lie and they both know it. Especially with the way his hand flexes against her waist, his arms tightening. As though he's afraid she'll disappear on him, as though he's desperate to keep her here in his embrace just a little bit longer. And maybe Nesta should call him out on it, maybe it makes her selfish, but she allows herself to sink back into him, allows her eyes to flutter closed, allows his warmth and the security of his arms around her and the steady beat of his heart at her back lull her into blissful sleep.

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #IPB AU #my fic

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atlaserine · 4 months

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"AHA!"

"WAIT-"

Unfortunately, Hero was too late as Villain successfully grabbed the file, full of the Agency's information, that was on the small table in Hero's room. Although, before Villain could gloat or even escape with his treasure, he glanced over at Hero who turned out to be holding...a book...too tightly hugging it against herself. The book that sat beside the file on the table before.

Hero's eyes was still wide with surprise that the Villain came barging inside her room at night, she studied his eyes that was now narrowed towards the book in her hand.

Ah crap...shouldve grabbed the file-

"Wh- what is that?" Villain took a step towards the Hero, squinting his eyes, trying to read the title of the book in the dark room.

"N-nothing" She spoke, too quickly as she hides the book behind her back.

Finally, the Villains eyes got off the book at gazed up towards her own. His face having drawn curiosity all over it.

He took another step.

And Hero took step back.

"Let me see"

"No"

Villains eyes narrowed again, "Why not"

"N-no...no, Look, you already have what you wanted so leave" The Hero tried, and hoped that he would. Because she could steal the file back later, though the embarrassment of him, her enemy, to even have an idea of the stuff that Hero reads would burn her dignity.

"No...I want to see that, Hero" The Villain argued, eyes focused on hers. And then Silent.

Oh no

The Hero knew, then and there, there was no talking out of this with him. And without thinking, Hero made a run for it to the door.

Yet, Villain was quicker, tackling Hero to the floor, leaving the file thrown to God knows where part of the room. He pinned the Hero down with his legs beside her as he took the book from her hand and opened it.

"Agh! Get...Off Me! You Heathen!" Hero struggled, squirmed underneath him.

"Oh...oh my god" Villain spoke as he quickly read trough the pages, his tone a mix of horrid and amusement. A small blush coloring his pale face.

"Oh my god" Hero stops moving, her eyes widening, it was her time now to blush as she looks up at him. Even though the room was dark, she couldn't help but hide her face behind both of her hands. Truly, she has never wanted to bury herself more than now.

Villains eyes was still trained on the pages, yet a small smile was creeping on his face. That small smile becoming a wide grin.

"Oh my god-" The Villain laughs a bit and raised his eyebrows.

"Dont" The Hero spoke, trying to sound stern and threatening yet her face couldn't stop heating the longer Villain stayed.

"Hero!"

"Please-"

"Hero, you- what is this book? You- you read stuff like this?" The Villain snorts.

"A friend recommended it to me!" Hero tried to reason with a lie as she finally grabbed the book from Villains hand and laid back on the floor, furrowing her eyebrows and pouting with her face all red.

"Yeah right" The villain argued and chuckled after looking down at the Hero.

"I didn't know you were into..that" He crossed his arms and shook his head with a smirk on his face as if he was a parent that had caught their kid, Hero has never wanted to wipe, punch, or just- erase that look from his face!

"Oh shut up" Hero mumbled and shrugged her shoulded, still hugging the book, as she looks away from him.

Villain leaned down, still with that million dollar smirk, inching closer to her ear,

"Youre a bad girl, Hero"

Hero was never going to hear the end of this was she?

#hero and villain #hero x villain #hero x villain community #heroes and villains #heroxvillain #villain #hero x villain prompts #hero/villain #no proofread #This was fun to write #If anyones wondering #the book genre was dark romance #thats all you need to know #Hero is just a girl #is this suggestive?#idk #sorry didnt mean it💀

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archiveikemen · 1 year

Text

'Doting Love Holic' Collection Event: Liam

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

read this before interacting with my posts

My lover said with a cat-like smile, “there’s something I want to do”.

Kate: What is it that you want to do, Liam?

Liam: Will you really let me do it if I tell you?

Whenever Liam told me that there was something he wanted to do, I would respond by saying that I would listen to anything he wanted.

Liam was always putting me before himself.

(It’s rare for Liam to ask for anything himself, so I want to fulfil his wish as much as I can.)

Kate: Of course. Please tell me what it is, it can be anything.

Liam smiled gleefully and untied the ribbon that was holding my hair up…

(Huh…?)

He used the ribbon to tie both my wrists together.

It felt like wearing a pair of soft handcuffs.

Liam: Don’t untie them until you go to sleep, okay?

Kate: Okay… but I can't get anything done with my hands like this, you know?

Liam: Mm-hmm, you don't have to do anything at all. I’ll do everything for you.

As he had declared, Liam took extremely good care of me and spoiled me while I had my freedom taken away.

…

Kate: L-Liam. I can walk on my own, you don’t have to carry me.

Liam: No can do. What if you fall and hurt yourself? Let me be your legs.

…

Liam: What do you want to have next, Kate? Soup? Or the meat?

Kate: Hmm, I’ll have the soup.

Liam: Fufu, leave that to me. Here, say ahh…

(Everyone’s stares are painful!)

…

Afterwards, Liam brought me to the bathroom and carefully undressed me before proceeding to wash my hair.

Liam: Is there anywhere itchy—?

Kate: This feels really good, thank you.

(I mean, he’s so good at pampering me that I can help but indulge in it a little.)

My wrists were still tied up with the ribbon, and if this goes on…

Liam: Alright, I’m done with washing your hair. Mm, your hair smells nice from the shampoo.

Kate: Um, Liam. I can wash my body by myself, so if you would be so kind and untie me for a bit—

Liam: Nope.

Kate: Erm…

Liam: Didn’t you promise not to untie it until you go to sleep? You don't have to do a single thing on your own. Leave everything to me.

(Ah…)

Liam pulled away the towel covering my body and slid his soap lathered hands across my skin.

All he did was wash me, but my body was reacting to the touch of his soapy fingertips as much as I didn't want it to.

Kate: Nn…

The moment his fingertips touched the peaks of my chests, I couldn't contain my moans.

Liam: Are you feeling good? It’s okay, I’m the only one looking.

Liam: …

Liam: I wonder whether you’ll always only look at me, if I do more things that make you feel good.

Kate: … Liam?

When I tried to turn around, Liam hugged me from behind.

Liam: … I wish… you’d be unable to do anything without me around.

Liam: That you’d be… helpless without me with you.

Liam: I wish that you’d be incapable of going anywhere on your own feet…

I had a feeling that he had a specific reason for wanting to do something like this.

(I thought of waiting for Liam to say it himself.)

Kate: Hey, Liam. … Is something the matter?

Liam: … 😕

Liam: … Haha, you’re amazing. You saw through my heart so easily.

Kate: Of course. I want to know what’s in my beloved’s heart, that’s why I’m always looking at him.

Liam: …

Liam: When I was getting some light sleep this morning… I had a dream.

Liam: I dreamt of you being stolen away by a man whose name and face I didn't know.

Liam: I chased after you to get you back, but you were gone…

Liam: Aha… I’m sorry, I got anxious and did such a thing to you like tying you up.

Liam: Even if I do this… I can never really tie you down.

Regardless of how much we loved each other or were loved, we were two individual people, and such worries would never truly cease to exist.

I could wherever I wanted with my legs, and so could Liam with his own.

But it was my own will to stay with Liam.

Kate: Liam, can you untie this?

Liam: … 😦

Kate: If you don’t untie me, I can’t hug you to prove that I won’t ever leave you.

Liam’s eyes widened and he went on to untie the ribbon tying my wrists together.

With my now free hands, I pulled my anxious lover in a tight hug.

Kate: I’ll always be here. You’ll always be by my side too, right, Liam?

Liam: Do you think I’ll ever be able to leave you? The only time I’ll leave is… when my life comes to an end.

Our eyes met, and we kissed to melt away the anxiety in our hearts.

Tonight would surely be free of lonely dreams.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil collection event #liam evans

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ardeidae-e · 1 month

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Who remembers the bsd star wars au?

I wrote a lil something and then drew the piece. Uh, i dont usually write. If you read it, i hope its enjoyable :D

His heart was racing, pounding against his chest, as they flew above the waters of Naboo. Chuuya had never seen a place like this; rich green and deep blue covered the whole planet. Wild animals were enjoying the landscape, swimming in the waters or soaring through the sky. He had never seen so much life all together, savoring the space they lived in. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon, framed by the mountains and colored clouds, painting the sk-

"Hey! Heey! Hey you stupid-" a bit of static, then a voice was heard through the intercom.

Chuuya snapped back to reality, seeing a big rock with a waterfall that seemingly kept growing by the second. He was about to flatten himself against it and fall into the void.

See, this was one of the many problems of not flying with an astromech.

Quickly he pulled the helm all the way back, forcing the ship to take a vertical position, and start going up up up-

"Fucking hell!" His heartbeat was hammering in his skull. The beauty of this planet was so distracting. He was so close to crashing his -well, not his- ship. And lose against- No.

As he kept pulling, the ship became parallel with the waterfall and steadied itself.

It kept going up until the waterfall disappeared under him and gave way to a beautiful meadow.

In the middle of the meadow, an old, tangled weeping willow was waiting for him.

"Aha!" He grinned and leaned forth, pushing the helm and trying to gain as much speed as he could.

He glanced around him, looking for the ship he was racing against, but no sign.

"Eat dirt, loser!" Chuuya screamed into the intercom.

The willow was just a few kilometers in front of him. He had already won.

As he kept getting closer to the finish line, a ship raced quickly below him, leaving the boy behind.

"H- Hey!"

He tried to go faster, but to no avail. The ship was already at maximum speed.

The other ship got to the willow, turned around swiftly, and started lowering to the ground. Chuuya did the same, only a few seconds late.

Which meant that he had lost.

As the ship touched the ground, he closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to calm his beating heart. Flying always gave him an adrenaline rush, it seemed that he would never get used to it.

As he began to calm down, something- someone? hit the front glass of the ship. He ignored it, still closing his eyes.

"..uya! Chuuyaaaaaaaa!" The stranger was taping the glass, trying to get in.

Chuuya didn't respond.

“Chuuyaaaaaaaaaa!” The infernal tapping kept going.

He tried to relax-

“Chuu-”

Annoyed, Chuuya smashed the button that opened the ship, making the- individual fly through the air and hit the ground.

"Owww!" He complained.

When the glass unfolded, the sound of the wind and the smell of the flowers hit him.

He stood up and took a moment to appreciate the place he was in, as he turned around slowly.

The meadow seemed to be in the center of a plateau that was surrounded by waterfalls and mountains. Thick, tall grass covered the whole ground and colored spots accentuated the green. The breeze caressed his face.

He took a breath and closed his eyes.

Naboo was truly a beautiful planet.

#this is embarassing #wtf is formatting #ugh #bsd #chuuya #dazai #bsd x star wars #my art

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slipping-is-doing-things · 4 months

Text

If you seen the poll I set up, this is the aftermath. I really can't not gush about my favorite characters and whatnot. Though, rather than just giving you one topic you're getting both with overlap! Four for the price of one of you will. If you're looking for what caused this post go look here!

Word count: 1,158

Trigger warnings: Not applicable, if there are any please let me know.

Fandom: Honkai star rail

Route ≗ backstory

Sampo had joined the mourning Actors rather young, decades before Aha would turn their gaze towards them and give them emulator status. Rather than joining the Fools he had been taken in by the actors during one routine stop to perform.

The then director found Sampo rummaging through their equipment, only to learn later on Sampo had stolen personal objects of value and a few masks. The director hadn't seen a teenager already walking the path of Elation without actively having a mask. The director would later on give Sampo an ultimatum, be turned in to the police or return what he had stolen and help clean up the mess he made. Sampo took the ladder.

It wasn't a complicated decision for either party in the end, the Mourning Actors welcomed Sampo into the group as an actor. The director and multiple actors of a course of three days saw the skill Sampo has and could better. While they didn't particularly like what he was using his skills for, the director wanted to see Sampo grow more than what this dying planet held. The rest was relative history, Sampo traveled with the group on their gondola. As his skills progressed and he showed interest they allowed him to perform, to wear one of these masks.

Towards his end of the time with the group he became the director, the previous stepping back due to age yet still helping. Only when Aha would look towards the group and make them emulators would Sampo leave. The original director took the role once more while Sampo left to truly learn more about Aha now that he was an emulator himself and IX.

To this day The Mourning Actors would welcome him, they know of him under different names; different faces but they'll always know him. The person behind the performances. The man who would cry with them in sorrow and effortlessly bring everyone together.

Route ≗ headcanons

The mourning Actors still have the mask he would use, it's one of the few in their possession that they won't use.

Sampo’s broken heart motif in my opinion comes from the Mourning Actors, while he holds no regrets over the path he has taken he still mourns like they do. Watching Jarilo-IV slowly die even with its preservation hurt him deeply, why else would he have helped the trailblazer’s? He doesn't wish to see it become a wasteland, watch those he genuinely cares about perish.

When Sampo is an active Emulator and is actively showing it has two different appearances. Comedy and tragedy which are shown by the snake and broken heart alongside his mask which can while being worn move to take either an expression of Elation or Melancholy. While taking on Melancholy he heavily plays into what the mourning Actors have become, while it might not be his true emotions deep down his acting can make everyone believe without any assistance from being an emulator.

If any of the mourning Actors shown up on Jarilo-IV Sampo would make himself as scarce as physically possible. He wouldn't be able to keep the act around those who he genuinely can call family. Though if they were to perform he would attend, it certainly would be a sorrow filled performance for him.

Route ≜ Backstory

Aha had seen many different kinds of dolls, puppet's and the like yet they never have seen a human one. One that can act without its puppeteer guiding them at all times. In truth Aha didn't think they would keep the human around, an once cute teenager with blue hair and vivid green eyes. Seeing the potential in their human puppet the joke just kept running and running until the puppet was more human than Aha ever intended. For many years Aha played with him, instigated truble on many different planets while watching what trouble the human could make on his own. A proper fool amongst the tavern. Created namelesly the teenager took roles flawlessly, performed with his whole heart and very soul to make such moving acts that brought both Elation and Melancholy it was only rightful that the human was quietly given the emulator status. He was already made by Aha, his body was built from the very start to take the tainted divinity.

The faint scar-like marks that curl around his wrists and ankles are flawless played off; a criminal is bound to have scars after all, even going as far to cover them with useful gloves. The very fact Sampo has been given an perfect replica— perhaps even the actual mask Aha themselves has in their collection while appearing places should have been an indicator to anyone with an lick of knowledge that Sampo Koski, the true nameless actor was nothing more and nothing less than an Elating actor. Perhaps IX is even aware of such facts and allows the actor to follow both paths from keeping Aha themselves away.

Route ≜ Headcanons

While Sampo is human in the traditional aspect, his very being down to his genetics make-up is a joke. He relates to no one, only his human form and blood is what gives him any ties to humanity as it's known. Something that Aha finds hilarious.

Sampo has a true love hate relationship with Aha and IX, the deeper the love the deeper the hate. His whole existence is a joke, a background actor who'll never get the sweeter lines or care from the audience. Nothing matters yet his own morals against hurting the helpless keep him from jumping in the same direction so many fools have.

While odd, Sampo has perfect circular scars around his wrists and ankles. If Aha for lack of better terms is forcing our darling criminal to do something the marks take on a golden hue.

The mask Sampo does have that is from Aha’s personal collection is genuine against what Sparkle or anyone else might say. The Mask itself can exist in two places at once with the gem itself being able to be rapidly swapped for a fake which unless one knows how to appease precious gemstones wouldn't notice.

When Sampo was younger he had a more positive relationship with Aha, being unaware of the reality he was facing at that time he was much more willing to fully follow through with stage directions. The older he has gone and the more he follows IX the less control Aha activity has over Sampo.

I don't care, this might as well go for Sampo regardless but he can pull flowers; particularly roses, from thin air. It's his calling card regardless of the performance. Much like Aha where you always hear the faint sound of bells and laughter you have roses and rose petals for Sampo if not the smell of fresh roses. Pretty boy likes his roses damnit and you'll never pry this from my hands even if I'm unable to express it.

#So I didn't think i would get this done before Monday but yet again I suddenly had over 1K words so here we are #I legitimately never have written this much ever in the past two or three days #like WTF why is my brain going BRRRR so harshly will the people from Honkai?#I'm not complaining! my writing is improving even though im going to make the people I roleplay with cry seeing my responses #Anyways #sampo koski #honkai star rail #headcanons go brrrr

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yourlocaldisneyvillain · 1 year

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Heyyy! I have a fic request!

I totally HC that Larissa was in smart-people classes, student council rep, head of academic clubs and probably class valedictorian or something.

Then… there’s this wonderful (gay) song called “little miss perfect”.

I’ve been picturing Larissa discovering she’s gay for the first time, terrified it’ll ruin her reputation but finally she goes for it and kisses her crush!

(At the end of the song there is angst about being scared of what other people think and “falling off my throne” you could include that if you like? Or just pure fluff? Honestly if you like the idea you can literally do whatever you want to it aha.)

Obviously there’s no pressure to do this if you don’t want to :)

Stay safe and happy 🤍

hellooooo!!! i had sooooo much fun writing this -- i took some liberties and made it a larissa/morticia thing bc it seemed fitting! i absolutely love these types of plots i was so excited to write this!!! (also love this song?????? i went feral listening to it dsajfhigbx)

hope you like it!!!!! here's the ao3 link -- don't hesitate to leave a comment if you feel so inclined -- it makes my heart sing :)

tw: internalised homophobia, slight angst (but with a happy ending)

Larissa runs laps alone before cheerleading practice, trying to clear her mind. She feels like throwing up and it’s not because of physical activity.

She can’t believe what she’s done. What has gotten into her? To risk her reputation, everything she’s spent years building, and for what? For a pretty face? A momentary attraction, a lapse in judgement?

Love?

She picks up the pace, even though she already feels the burn in her lungs.

Love is not something she would know about. Love is a feeling, and feelings come and go. She has ambitions, a career to think about — a reputation that goes beyond this school (a school full of people who know her parents, who are all involved in the same social circles, who all know her and who would never look at her the same way again… if they knew).

She forces herself to slow down, not wanting to overexert herself before cheerleading practice. No one can see she is upset. She is never visibly upset in front of people.

Well.

Except for her.

She is the only person who has ever seen her — truly seen her. She has seen her upset, she has seen her happy — she knows things Larissa has never, ever told anyone before, as well as those little things no one has ever bothered to remember. She knows about her parents’ troubled marriage (they would never divorce — they have a reputation to uphold), that her fondest childhood memory is the day her father finally took a day off and took her fishing with him — she had so much fun stepping in mud while he laughed at her (she was so happy that not even her mother’s yelling when she came back home in mud-stained clothes could spoil her mood) — and she knows that Larissa’s favourite snack are terrible, greasy mini-doughnuts with strawberry filling from the little diner just outside their campus. Sometimes she gets them for Larissa unprompted and Larissa pretends to be upset because she really shouldn’t have that much sugar or grease if she wants to maintain her perfect figure — but she eats all of them anyway.

She picks up the pace again — her lungs burn and tears threaten to spill, but she doesn’t let them because what would people say if her eyes were all red and her mascara smudged? They would know she was crying.

She has a reputation to uphold.

Memories from last night play on repeat in her mind. She and Morticia (her best friend, her roommate, her cheerleading co-captain — and her absolute downfall) were sitting on Larissa’s bed. Morticia, always the wild one, managed to persuade her into buying some disgusting, lemon-flavoured beer. They are drinking it together as she braids Larissa’s hair.

***

“Why don’t you ever wear your hair curly, Rissie? It would suit you,” Morticia asks as she braids her hair.

“My hair is naturally a little bit curly,” Larissa says, “I just always blow-dry it straight.”

“Why?”

“I guess I just don’t like it.”

“I like it.”

“Well, you do have a peculiar sense of style,” Larissa teases her and gasps as Morticia swats her arm. “Hey! That hurt,” she laughs, rubbing her arm.

“You deserve it,” Morticia laughs back, showing no remorse. “There, all done,” she says as she finishes the braid. “It looks really pretty — but you’re so pretty that anything looks good on you, so it’s no surprise.

Larissa blushes despite herself. She never blushes when somebody else tells her that — she knows she’s pretty, because she spends so much time perfecting her makeup, taking care of her hair, working out, eating right — of course she looks pretty! — but Morticia is different. She says it to her even when Larissa is makeup-less, in her pajamas, when her hair is a mess, when she hasn’t brushed her teeth in the morning yet and when she is sweaty from cheerleading practice — in fact, it is especially during those times that Morticia makes a point of saying it to her. It makes Larissa’s heart flutter.

“My arm still hurts, you know,” Larissa tries changing the subject. “I will have a bruise and it will look bad in my cheer uniform.”

“Oh, so dramatic! It was just a little slap.” Morticia rolls her eyes and scoots to sit in front of Larissa again, then hands her the beer. Larissa takes a sip.

“Here, give me your arm, I will kiss it better.”

There are butterflies in her stomach as Morticia rolls up her sleeve and plants a gentle kiss on her upper arm. Her lips are impossibly soft and warm.

Morticia looks at Larissa’s eyes, smiling widely. “Better?” she asks.

Larissa stares at her, captivated. She feels the ghost of Morticia’s lips on her skin.

“Rissie?”

Without thinking, Larissa cups Morticia’s face, pulls her closer, and kisses her.

Morticia tastes like sweet citrus beer and peppermint gum. Her lips are warm and soft and wet, and Larissa loves it. She feels fuzzy and warm — not just from the beer— and it’s just… right. Larissa wants to spend the rest of her life kissing Morticia.

They kiss for a while. It’s soft and sweet in the beginning, but then it grows hungrier. Morticia climbs into Larissa’s lap, straddling her, and her hands start to wander.

Larissa feels like she’s in heaven. She briefly opens her eyes, wanting to sneak a glance at Morticia, drink in how pretty she is — but what catches her eye instead is their reflection in the window. She watches herself in the window pane — kissing a girl — and reality hits her.

She pulls away.

“Tish, I…”

“What’s the matter, Rissie? We can slow down if you want to.” Morticia’s voice is soft, and she runs her hand over Larissa’s cheek.

“I just— I— I can’t, Tish. I have to go,” Larissa says. Her heart breaks at the confusion in Morticia’s eyes, but she forces herself to look away.

She bolts out of the room, leaving Morticia sitting on the bed, in shock.

She spends the night at Jessica’s and Tara’s room, telling them Morticia wanted to bring a boy tonight. They don’t question it, because Morticia is known to be a party girl (Morticia did use to bring boys to their room, but she hasn’t in months — not since she and Larissa got closer). Larissa laughs and chats with them for a while before bed, surprising even herself with how good of an actress she is. She only allows herself to shed a single tear once she’s convinced Jessica and Tara are asleep.

She has a reputation to uphold.

***

A voice brings her back to reality.

“Larissa!”

A voice she would recognise anywhere is calling her name. She starts running faster.

“Larissa, wait! Please, let’s talk about this! Larissa!”

She hears the voice getting closer — Morticia must be running after her.

“There is nothing to talk about, Morticia!” Larissa shouts. “Other girls will get here soon, so you should stop screaming my name and making a scene!”

“I will stop screaming your name if you slow down! And the girls will see nothing — they will just see us running laps to warm up before practice.”

Larissa slows down. Her lungs ache — she has overexerted herself. She wants to scream at herself for being so stupid and emotional.

Morticia finally catches up to her, but Larissa doesn’t even spare her a glance, looking at her shoes instead. They walk side by side, breathing heavily.

Finally, Morticia speaks.

“I just want to talk about it, that’s all. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way about me like I do about you.”

Larissa’s heart breaks as she lies without even blinking.

“It was a mistake. I just wanted to try it out, see how it feels. I like boys, sorry. Let’s not mention it again.”

“I don’t buy that for a second, Larissa.”

“Well, it’s the truth.”

“No, it’s bullshit. I know what this is about, and it’s exactly what I feared would happen.”

“You’re delusional, Morticia, there is nothing between us.”

“I might be delusional, but you are a fucking coward!” Morticia’s voice is shaking. Larissa knows she is on the verge of crying. Her heart is breaking…

…but she has a reputation to uphold.

“Stop yelling, people will hear,” Larissa hisses, and finally looks at her.

Morticia is looking at her, big brown eyes full of unshed tears. Larissa wants to hold her, apologise, kiss her tears away — but she doesn’t.

“That’s the only thing you care about, don’t you? What people will say if they find out Larissa Weems — Little Miss Perfect, Little Miss Head Of Student Council, Captain Of Cheerleading Club, a straight A student — has a big lesbian crush on her roommate. You don’t care about me, you only care about your stupid reputation, I am aware — but the least you could do is have the courage to tell me you like me, but you’re too much of a coward to do anything about it! Don’t fucking gaslight me and try to convince me you this means nothing to you!”

“It doesn’t,” Larissa tries to lie, but Morticia is having none of it.

“Coward! Tell me, why did you kiss me? Look me in the eye and tell me I mean nothing to you and I will leave you alone. I will request to change rooms, I will leave your perfect life, and we can be two strangers on the cheer team and never talk again. Just tell me and I swear to God, Larissa, I will do it!”

“God, Morticia, what do you want me to say!? Fine. Fine! ” she shouts, losing her temper. “I kissed you because I wanted to, because I think you’re pretty, because I think you’re smart, because you make me feel alive, and loved and cared for, because you’re the only person who truly knows me! And I have no idea what to do about that!”

She stops walking. She’s fully crying now, crying because everything is a mess, because she overexerted herself before practice, because she ruined her mascara and everyone will know she’s been crying and everyone will see her ugly white eyelashes, and because she let herself lose her composure…

…but most of all, because she is in love with her best friend.

“I kissed you because I love you, Tish,” she cries, “I’m sorry, I’ve been such a bitch to you, I just don’t know what to do.”

Morticia says nothing. Larissa doesn’t know what she’s thinking, because she cannot bear to look at her, cannot bear to see the hurt and the disappointment in her eyes, knowing the she is the cause of her pain. She sobs. She has caused her favourite person in the world pain.

Larissa suddenly feels herself being pulled into a tight hug.

They stay like that for a while. Morticia strokes her hair — it’s slightly curly because of the braid it’s been in. Morticia is surprised Larissa didn't straighten it this morning. She knows it’s silly, but that gives her a tiny bit of hope.

“I don’t know what to do either,” Morticia whispers into Larissa’s shoulder, “but we’ll figure it out. Come on, let’s go. We are not going to practice today.”

Larissa nods. As Morticia holds her hand and drags her over the football field, the only thought in her mind is how soft Morticia’s hands are.

They skip practice that day, Morticia expertly lying to their coach, telling her they both caught a stomach bug. She believes them because they never skip practice and sends them to the infirmary. They don’t go — instead they spend the afternoon drinking slushies and eating mini-doughnuts in that diner near campus. They talk and they talk, and before they are about to go back to campus, Larissa lays a hand on Morticia’s — and leaves it there. Morticia’s eyes widen — the diner is full, anyone could see them. She gives Larissa a questioning look, and Larissa gives her a fearful one — but she doesn’t remove her hand.

It’s a start.

#larissa weems #larissa x morticia #morissa #wednesday 2022 #gwendoline christie #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it

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justewil · 4 months

Text

well, i never thought that young lady would betray you like this. your assistant, a targent mole!

ngh.

i can see by your face that you had no idea... but we can't stand here moping while bronev seizes the azran's power. i don't care what happens to the boy, but i know you feel differently. we both want to stop bronev. why not work together? i won't let you go alone, so you may as well accept.

very well. i see i have little choice. onwards it is. there! that's luke!

professoooor!

i don't see bronev or the others. they must have left him and gone on ahead. i suppose you'll want to rescue the boy. well, whatever we do, we'll need to cross this gap.

that is true...

now then, layton. how do you propose we get across?

hmm, i believe it is a test.

those who cannot find the way are deemed unworthy and may not enter the sanctuary. that is all there is to it.

aha! i believe this device is the key!

professor!

luke! i'm glad to see you safe.

i could say the same, professor...

how did you end up here all alone, boy? did they leave you behind?

descole! professor, why is descole with you?

so much resentment! you'll be glad to know that we have forged a temporary alliance, a truce while we fight a common enemy.

i wasn't talking to you!

luke, calm down, please. i don't like it either, but descole is right. if bronev unleashes the power of the azran, the consequences may be disastrous. we must work together to stop him. now, why did bronev and emmy leave you behind?

oh yes! i meant to tell you, professor! emmy is still on our side!

hm? what do you mean?

well, she let me go, for a start...

emmy, how could you do this to us? you were the professor's assistant! you were our friend!

you wouldn't understand, luke.

sniff... sniff...

ahh...

why won't you tell me?

look... uncle leon - bronev - is like a father to me, and he's a good person, really. he just has to finish this. you'll see.

bronev's your uncle?!

he may as well be. he's always looked after me, ever since i was little. he was so kind... now, though... it's as if the azran have consumed him. but with the professor here... well, maybe the professor can finally bring him to his senses.

what do you mean, emmy?

emmeline! what's going on over there?

sorry! er... the boy tripped over a rock! i think he's hurt his knee. we should leave him behind. he's only going to slow us down.

indeed. we only need the girl for our purposes.

we should hurry before descole or the professor catch up with us.

very true. and as you say, the child would only be a hindrance. leave him. now, let's go!

... luke, the professor is sure to be here soon. you just stay here and wait for him, okay?

emmy...

i see.

so the young lady has a personal stake in all this...

we can ponder emmy's intentions later. for now, we must press on after bronev.

another door! the sanctuary could be just on the other side.

it looks as though this whole passage was blocked by ice until just recently.

it does. all this time, the sanctuary has been encased in protective ice, hidden from the world...

the others must have cleared the way. they're already inside!

then this is no time to hesitate. let us press on. the doors appear to be firmly shut, and i can't see any obvious way of opening them...

how did bronev get inside, then?

he had the key, didn't he? besides, he had aurora with him. it would have been child's play.

but... we don't have either. and it's all your fault! if you hadn't stolen the key stone in the first place-

yes, yes, how truly dreadful of me. now, shall we focus on how to open the door?

"when the need is great, there is always a way. now, prove your worth."

what?! er... yes, our need is very great. let us prove ourselves! that was... odd. but the way is open. we can continue. we're coming, bronev! just you wait!

hmph! whoa!

through every age of man it has been here, and here it is still, almost intact. the azran were capable of great things.

i suppose the ice seal would have provided some protection from the elements, but even so...

layton! they kept a girl alive for a million years! keeping this place standing would be a cinch in comparison! ha! with their power, one could dominate the whole world if one wanted to. imagine it in bronev's hands...

or in yours! you're just as bad as he is!

is that what you think?

if you hadn't stolen the key from us, none of this would have happened!

allow me to clarify something for you. the only reason i invited you to travel with me at all was so that i could take my revenge on bronev. not everything is about the azran. in fact, they are a great annoyance to me. but you never considered this, did you?

shut up! i'll never believe you again! all those kind things you said to aurora, and it was j- just an act...

hmph.

luke, please-

enough! stop your snivelling, boy. we haven't the time. while we stand here chatting, bronev is making his way to the heart of the sanctuary!

i know. we cannot let bronev unleash the power of the azran.

perhaps... we have all been deceived. you and i, even bronev... perhaps we are all puppets dancing to the azran's tune. but we can worry about that later. it's time to move on.

very well. there now, luke. come along. aurora needs our help.

there's no path. how are we meant to get across?

hmm... it appears to be a canal, but the water level is very low... ah! do you see those bridges overhead? it looks as though the control mechanisms are up there.

okay, so we use them to raise the water level, and then what? we swim?

ha, you can, if you wish. now, allow me.

no! you'll just stab us in the back! i'll go! p- professor! look!

yes, you won't have to swim, after all. that boat looks to be made of wood, though. it should have rotted away aeons ago. hmm. in any case, well done, luke. thanks to you, we can move on.

a relatively simple puzzle, i'm sure, but still... you did well.

i don't need your praise!

now, now, luke, there's no need to be like that. let's carry on.

the air feels different here. it's really hot!

those statues... look at their eyes! i have a horrible feeling these fellows have been designed to shoot fire at intruders.

a rather nasty kind of azran guardian, i see. anyone without the key will get burnt to ashes... whoever built this sanctuary really didn't want any intruders to wander in!

they do seem to have gone to an astounding effort to protect this place.

ha! these pitiful defences are not going to stop me! stand back!

those statues won't be causing us any more trouble!

what? no!

aaaaaaargh!

descole!

descole, are you- ?

agh, save your concern, layton. there's something i have to tell you.

what is it?

you were too young. you probably don't remember.

remember what?

that day... after our parents were abducted.

i don't understand.

i am Not typing out the cutscene ... hi this was just to keep me awake in the car >_<

#got bored in the car again #home now 👍 everything under the read more because .yeah #i considered colour coding this but no #azran legacy spoilers #<- its dialogue from the game so. yeah #didnt write out puzzles . sad !!!#this will Not happen again .bye #talks

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