#i never use tags on my main anymore so i have no idea what i should put here XDDD

[mothdruid]

Within the past 72 hours the TGM fandom got a fire put under it's ass, for lack of a better term/phrase. Even though I'm not as active in the fandom anymore, it did make me want to talk about a few things. This isn't the first time that I've had to make a post similar to this, usually speaking about reblogs and keeping your fanfic writers feeling wanted within the fandom spaces, but today I'm going to talk more about fandom etiquette and my experiences in fandom spaces. So, if you want to hear my opinion on fandom etiquette, how I learned fandom etiquette, and my thoughts about the doxing situation that has happened, keep on reading.

My Fandom Experience.

The first fandom that I was ever a part of was The Hunger Games fandom in the 8th grade (if you don't include my anime fandoms). I was 12-13 at the time. This was when I was first introduced to Tumblr and being involved within a fandom online. At the time I was super young, barely even knew who I was as a person, let alone in a fandom space. All I did was reblog little gifsets and fawn over Josh Hutcherson. I remember getting my first hate anon, even though I didn't do anything that would generate that to even happen. Even when I was 12-13, I couldn't understand why anyone would send a hate anon. That was when I found out a friend of mine found my Tumblr and actually secretly hated me, so she sent me hate anons. Still, before I knew it was her I didn't understand.

Fandoms were a formative part of my childhood. I think that main one that helped form me though was the Supernatural (yeah, I know, eye roll), Naruto, and The Hobbit fandoms. I had made friends on Tumblr and Instagram through these fandoms. During these times was when I had first started consuming fanfiction. Specifically, destiel and thilbo fanfiction. This is how I started to find the things in fanfiction that I loved, and the things that I hated. Instead of sending hate to the writers for their thoughts and stories that I didn't agree with, I would back out of the story or just scroll past. Not only that, I also started to use the filters on AO3 constantly, ensuring that I was only reading the fics that I knew I'd enjoy. Also, I was careful to read warnings and tags prior to reading the fic. Never once did I blame the writer for something that I knew I didn't like and accidentally read or read for see what it was about.

After high school was when I started getting into fanfiction writing. I've written for a lot of fandoms during this time. The IT movies, Total Drama, Haikyuu, Attack on Titan, Marvel, Bridgerton, Top Gun: Maverick, and currently ASOIAF. As a writer I've never gotten hate, thankfully, but I have had a lot of friends that have. It's sad to see so many people who take the time to write, whether it's enjoyable or not, receive hate. As writers we are simply expressing our creativity for the things that we love. Since posting fanfiction on tumblr, I have experienced a lot of people pestering for new updates and when the next fic is, and so have a lot of other writers on here. Even though people only know us as a little icon and username, fanfiction writers are people. We have lives outside of writing fanfiction. Everyone also isn't the same type writer. One person may easily write multiple fics every week, some of us take longer, and some of us are even just passion writers (me lol).

The TGM fandom has been one of the most negative fandom experiences I've ever seen/had. It is full of some of the meanest people/anons I've ever seen. From writers being attacked for fic ideas, people being sent hate for something that the anon has full control over, and people constantly expecting new stories to read on the daily. Yes, I do know that other fandoms have these issues, but it seems to be almost a weekly, hell, even daily thing within this fandom. A lot of the issues that I see happen in this fandom are from people who don't understand fandom etiquette.

Fandom Etiquette.

If you had noticed there was a few things I put in bold above. These are key things that I learned during my time that attribute to fandom etiquette. So without further a do, I'll list out some fandom etiquette rules that I follow all the time.

Don't send hate anons to people

Block/unfollow people you don't like

If you don't like an idea or fic, don't read it

Read through all warnings and tags that the writer provided

Use AO3 filters

Don't blame the writer/creator for reading things they created that you actively know you don't like

Writers/Creators aren't "content farms"

There are people behind these blogs/usernames, treat them like someone you'd see on the street

Writers/Creators are expressing love/passion for something, don't hate them for doing that

If you see something fandom related that you don't like, scroll past it or ignore it

YOU CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE (ESPECIALLY ON TUMBLR)

The Doxing Situation.

For those who are unaware but decided to read this anyways, recently there was a writer (Mama Mayhem) on here who got doxed from another writer in the fandom. Mayhem has since lost her job due to the doxing. This was apparently from her breaking HIPAA by posting a picture into a private groupchat/discord. This picture was posted almost a half year ago. Meaning that the person who reported/doxed Mayhem had known about this picture for months and only recently decided to do something about it.

I'll start by saying that I also work in healthcare, and know many other people here who do. I understand that a HIPAA violation is 100% an offense that gets you fired. I'm not excusing the HIPAA violation if one did occur.

Some people have brought up the idea that maybe the person that reported the picture, and doxed Mayhem, was doing it out of the goodness of their heart. Due to the timeline of it all, that doesn't seem likely. I had a previous coworker get fired for HIPAA violations and it took a total of a week from the initial report for her to be gone.

The biggest thing I want to convey is that TWO WRONGS CAN HAPPEN AT THE SAME TIME. Yes, if Mayhem violated HIPAA, it is wrong. But at the same time, the person held onto this information for months only to use it out of spite, pettiness, and cruelty, is wrong.

My Thoughts.

Due to Mayhem being doxed, a lot of people have decided to leave this platform, take indefinite hiatuses, stop writing, or move to AO3 exclusively., and I don't blame them. I'll be honest, I'm thinking about moving to AO3 exclusively now. AO3 feels a lot more rewarding in my experience. I already only post my fics for ships to AO3, so why not just post everything on AO3 (which I usually do).

I think a lot of people have forgot what it feels like to feel shame in something they say or do. When I say this, it's directed towards people who send hate or do other malicious things in fandom spaces. Fandoms were never this clique-ish and mean. I think it has to do with the pandemic, meaning that a lot of people who would have never joined a fandom did because they weren't allowed to do anything outside of their house. So, those mean girls that made fun of fandom girlies (g/n) previously, joined the fandoms and decided started bullying the people within them.

This situation is super shitty and people are now scared. It makes complete sense, especially after seeing someone, that many of you were close to, be doxed. A lot of people are scared of it happening to them now. I don't think this fandom will be the same after this situation, but who knows, maybe everyone will just forget and move on. Either way, I think I'll be taking a step back from the TGM fandom. I'll still be here, but until further notice, I won't be posting any TGM fanfiction. Maybe a gifset/picture here and there, but I don't think this is a fandom I feel comfortable writing for anymore.

If you've read all of this, thank you.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

What’re your favorite kh ships?

If I'm being honest... I really only true ship SoKai these days (my forever OTP). Mainly because I feel like that's the only one I can really ever see actually being canon (well, aside from Yozora and Nameless Star, and I also ship them: a lot of that for Versus XIII reasons. My heart won't let go). And, I mean, not that a ship needs to be canon for me to ship them. Not at all. But I'll admit that I've grown out of some of the KH ships a wee bit, as I've found more adult ones in other fandoms to get invested one.

That being said, the KH ships that I do still care about are:

SoKai

RokuShi

Namiku

RokuNami

Terqua (though it seem these days the kids call it Terrqua. Or Terraqua?)

Gulava

Skulmera

Playerlitzia

YozoraNameless Star

Xehaqus

AkuSai

SoRiKai

RiKai

Roxiri (though not in canon. More in fanon. More for crack, kind of, actually. And friendship first and foremost)

I'm warming up to Replinami some these days, because of the tragedy of it all.

I've also started to warm up to Rion a wee bit... that past Shanna thought she'd never see.

SoNami in CoM only.

I could do XionRoxasNaminé. NamiXI, too.

VenAqua slightly, but I'd always choose Terra and Aqua over it (but one thing about the Wayfinder Trio for me, if I'm being truthful, is that I prefer the three of them as friends before any romance with any of them. Part of me even really thinks all three of them are truly just meant to be friends.)

A lot of people ship Ven and Strelitzia for some reason. And I doubt it'll ever happen, tbh. Who knows if they'll ever even really get a chance to meet and be friends. But I do get why they think it'd be cute.

And while I don't know if I truly ship them anymore, a part of me will always have a soft spot for Ventus and Naminé. Because for some reason, I really used to ship this crack pairing, back in the day.

I also don't really know if I ship them... but despite what I said above, I do get the feeling that Nomura might be doing something with Lauriam/Marluxia and Elrena/Larxene.

[lost-and-ephemeral]

helloooo, can i req cuddling with love and deepspace boys? :))

Imagine: Loving Embrace (ft. main trio)

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: pure fluff

A/N: i'm still feeling pretty bad mentally because too many things happened and i'm no longer taking antidepressants, but this little cute request was hard to resist ♡ I decided to focus on different situations instead of writing simple hcs for cuddles

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 

Rafayel: Cuddles for Inspiration

"Come here, I can't find my inspiration without you."

At least that's what Rafayel always says when he can't find the right balance between painting and wanting to spend time with you. So why not combine both!

Yes, he's covered in paint and, yes, its smell completely soaked his clothes, but you never say no to him. How could anyone resist his cute pouty face when he's asking for something like this?

The moment Rafayel pulls you by the waist and sits you on his lap, be prepared to spend a very, very long time like this. Especially if he's really inspired by your closeness.

And he just can't let go of his muse in the middle of the creative process, right?

Rafayel holds you firmly but gently by your waist while his chin rests on your shoulder. His eyes are either closed as he thinks about something or focused on the canvas.

Sometimes his fingers draw invisible abstract shapes on your waist. He does it instinctively, without thinking. Or he plays with your own fingers while he draws details with his other hand.

"See? Without you, this painting wouldn't be complete."

Zayne: Cuddles for Productivity

"I need some cuddles to promote the production of oxytocin."

Zayne… Always remains Zayne, covering up his own desire to be closer to you with various medical terms and researches. It is cute in it's own way, actually.

He loves it when you hold him in your arms and he can completely relax for a while, resting his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat. He'll definetely call it a way to check your heath too.

Zayne loves to cuddle before or after work most of the time, but he won't refuse to be there for you during his break at work.

He needs to find the energy to keep working, after all.

He probably prefers to keep quiet during yor cuddling session, but if you want to tell him something, go ahead, Zayne won't say a word against it.

In fact, he even enjoys hearing your stories. Just make sure they don't contain things about your work that might alarm him. Otherwise, he might go back into strict doctor mode. But it's still only because of his love and care for you.

"Have you heard that hugs or any other show of affection can have health benefits, including reducing fear, stress, and pain? So it is good for both of us."

Xavier: Cuddles for Sleep

"My internal battery is completely drained."

And with these words Xavier will make himself comfortable in your arms while you're lying on the couch or bed and scrolling on social media.

And that's not even a joke, he's actually completely exhausted after spending the last couple days on missions without proper rest. You know Xavier, he either works non-stop or goes into hibernation after that. It'll take some time to change his habits.

In this state, he's more like a big plush toy, and you can do whatever you want with him. But the best idea is to play with his hair. This action always relaxes him.

After all, only in your hands he can find such a desired comfort.

Xavier will tell you about how his last mission went while you cuddle. Well, he will try to do it before sleep finally consumes him. And you'll be able to hear perfectly how his voice grows quieter and quieter with each word.

He's so cute when he's sleepy, isn't he? You can even tell him that to get a quiet chuckle in return. Xavier doesn't mind your little teasing.

"It's so warm in your arms, I swear I… I can't stay awake anymore…"

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Hi there ! Can I request Natasha Romanoff x reader smut? I thought maybe Natasha x virgin!reader first time OR it can just be Nat’s and reader’s first time. (Please make it super soft🥺🥺)

Okay but anon that idea is literally so cute wtf 😖💗 this is shorter than I intended it to be but I hope you enjoy it regardless 

Sidenote: mалыш means baby in Russian (to the best of my knowledge) 

Taking It Slow (Natasha Romanoff x reader)

Warnings: SMUT, afab reader, reader is a virgin, oral sex (reader receiving), mention of a safeword (although it's never used), soft top Natasha, bottom reader 

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" 

Natasha's brow was furrowed with concern as she leaned over you on the bed, gently brushing your hair from your face. 

"Yeah, I'm sure." You looked up into her loving eyes, knowing she would take care of you. "Just...take it slow, okay?" 

"Of course, mалыш." She pressed a soft and loving kiss to your lips before working her way down the rest of your body. Your jawline, neck, collarbone, none of it went untouched. She kept going until she got down to your thighs, where she settled herself between them. 

"If at anytime you want me to stop, just let me know, okay? Do you remember our safeword?" 

You nodded your head yes, to which Natasha clicked her tongue at you. "Honey, I need verbal confirmation if you want this to happen." 

"Yeah, I remember it," you said, anticipation building. 

"Good. Use it whenever you want to stop, okay? I don't want your first experience to be an uncomfortable one." 

"Okay, I will." 

Satisfied with your response, she began leaving kisses on the inside of your thigh. Occasionally you felt her nip at your skin, a sign that she was gently marking you up, leaving hickeys wherever her mouth would go. 

You sighed contentedly before letting out a series of soft moans as she moved her mouth from your thighs to your glistening pussy. She pressed gentle kisses on the sensitive area, and you could feel her smirk against your skin when you let out a sudden gasp at her lips moving up to your clit. 

She was toying with you, and you knew it; but you loved it regardless. 

You felt as she pressed feather light kisses to your clit, giving you just enough friction to feel it but not nearly enough to be able to properly get you off. 

As much as you wanted to grind up against her face, you knew you had to remain patient if you wanted to be able to truly enjoy this. You had waited this long, surely you could wait a little bit longer. Still, Natasha no longer teasing you and just getting on with it would certainly be nice.

"Nat, please." You whined, your hand going to rest on her head lightly. 

"Oh, sweetheart." She peered up at you from between your legs, a visible smirk on her face. "I suppose I have been teasing you a little too much, huh? Let me fix that." 

Before you could ask her what she meant by that, you felt her move her tongue along your already wet folds, eliciting a moan from you so loud your neighbors could definitely hear it.

At least she wasn't teasing you anymore, but that still meant you had a long night ahead of you. 

Likes < reblogs | PLEASE REBLOG if you like what you read

Main masterlist | MCU masterllist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @gilmore-angel @xxromanoffxx @your-next-daydream @whistle1whistle @alexxavicry @elenavampire21 @truthindreams-blog1 @the-nightowl-blr @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @defstr8bl0nd13 (if you were crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason)

[cypherthesuccubus]

Let daddy take the reigns~

Luci x Reader -Part 1- (NSFW) (MDNI)!!!!!!

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, praise kink, body worship, cock worship, pussy worship, gentle dom luci, edging, tail play, she/ her pronouns, vaginal sex, creampie

Other tags: Fluff, angst

Luci is the aftercare king~ ✨

Part 1 of Luci x Reader is here!! Let’s see what adventures await you this time~ 😍✨(sorry for the wait again. Got busy around the house and kids lol 😂)

(Y/N’s P.O.V)

As I walk through the halls of Morningstar manor; my mind couldn’t help but wonder. Looking up at the paintings, strewn across the halls; each one depicting the seemingly happy family of Lucifer, Lilith, and Charlie. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been close friends with Lilith ever since the first time I’ve went to one of their annual gala’s. A friend of mine convinced me to go since there was gonna be free food and drinks; which was the main reason I went. I’ve never been one for social events; they’re always so uncomfortable when you don’t know anyone there. In the end, it turned out better than it did when Queen Lilith at the time; decided to chat up a conversation with me over the punch bowl. It was an instant click of how well her and me got along; we even went on shopping trips together; just having fun like a couple of teenage BFF’s. In turn, also meant that I got to know Lucifer and Charlie better too over time. Charlie is like the perfect mixture of her parents in both looks and personality; very sweet girl to be blessed with as a daughter. Lucifer was definitely silly and fun; always had so many creative ideas with incredible powers to boot. On my end, they always seemed like a picture perfect happy family, but I guess that was a fantasy. During later years, everytime I had a girl’s day with her and Lucifer came up in the conversation; she became more dismissive of him as a subject of topic. I always told her if anything is going on, don’t hesitate to let me know. But, I guess she never really wanted to talk about him as much as she used to. Then one day, her messages and calls never came through when I tried to contact her. As if she went completely silent; not wanting anything to do with me anymore.

Coming to find out, when I went to visit the manor that day to see what was up; there was Lucifer just sitting in his study in a fetal position on the floor. He was having a serious mental breakdown on account of Lilith wanting to separate, and left as soon as the papers were signed. No one knew where she went; just dissipated without as much as a text to let us know she’s still alive. I guess our friendship didn’t mean that much to her either, but Lucifer was definitely suffering more than I was. For the longest time after she left, he would completely lock himself away from everyone; barely eat or sleep due to his constant cry’s of pain and agony every single night. He really loved her so much that he would do anything for her, only to realize it was all a dream and she never wanted to spend the rest of eternity with him after all. For months no one heard from him, not even Charlie the poor girl. Many of the servants tried to get him to do at least something to let them know he’s still alive, but honestly it was mostly to see if they had a job or not. I started making my attempts to persuade him out of the room or at least have a conversation. I would visit 3 times a day for 4 hours; sitting on the floor while leaning against one of the double doors. I would tell him about my day and how things were going in my life, like you do when you hang out with friends. I mostly wanted him to know even thou things didn’t work out with Lilith; doesn’t mean you’re alone. I constantly reassured him that he’ll always have a friend in me when he’s ready to talk. This went on for an entire year without as much as a noise from him.

I soon arrive at the double doors once again; sitting down in the same spot. While sitting against the door once more; talking about how my night went before coming to the manor. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up. It’s been an entire year and still nothing! God! I know Lilith was my best friend, but why did she pull something like this?! She has left him in pieces with absolutely no way to put him back together. Before I decided to call a quits for the very last time; I decided to put my all in my final attempt to get him to talk to me. “Luci….I know getting over Lilith is gonna be absolute hell….literally….but you do have Charlie that needs you. She needs her dad more than anything now. She’s been on the news; talking about her dreams towards redemption for sinners. Obviously it didn’t go well and everyone pretty much laughed at her face. She’s pretty much been made a joke to every denizen of hell who watched the news. She must be so hurt right now…..she really needs someone to help support her dreams more than ever now….so please…please come out of there….do it for Charlie….she needs you.”

I waited for what seemed like an eternity; still no response. If that wouldn’t work, nothing will at this point. With a heavy heart, I picked myself off the floor and proceeded down the hallway. As I was at least 4 feet from his door, I picked up a slow clicking sound; coming from behind me. I turned around so fast to see it was his door slowly opening. I walked back to the door; stopping just a foot away to see Luci finally standing in front of the now opened door after so long. He looked a mess; his hair was pointing in many different directions with his clothes was a very loose fitting white shirt; paired with grey sweatpants. It was hanging off his small waist showing the hem of his black boxer breifs. He definitely hasn’t slept very well due to the dark circles under his eyes. I felt so bad for him that this got him in such a state like this. But he finally made the decision to show himself, so I’m gonna help him the best I can to get him back on track.

(Luci’s P.O.V)

She was right! No matter how things are right now, my daughter still needs me! This entire year has been absolutely horrific for me. I still can’t believe that Lilith would do this to me. After everything we’ve been through; obviously meant nothing to her now. I would do anything for her, but I guess it wasn’t mutual. It still baffled me how Lilith’s best friend, (Y/N), would make it her personal mission to help me all this time. I guess in a way, she was hurt by Lilith as well since that was her best friend. Still she came to my door 3 times a day every day for an entire year. I couldn’t ask for a better friend than (Y/N); I’m definitely going to do better for me and my daughter!! “Thank you, (Y/N)….I appreciate you opening my eyes to what’s important.” She smiled as she offered to help me to get cleaned up, along with other self care stuff. She went through my drawers to pull out clean pair of my red and white silk pjs along with clean black boxers. She brings me to the bathroom; sitting me down as she starts the shower while setting up all the essentials. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be out cleaning up the room and putting fresh sheets on your bed.” I smile at her “No problem.” she then takes her leave, shutting the door.

Finally stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my waist as I walk out the bathroom; drying my hair with a second towel. I look around to see my room being spotless for the first time and my bed neatly made. She really didn’t have to do this, but I greatly appreciated it nonetheless. I head to my bed; picking up the clean clothes as I put them on one by one. Finally brushing my hair, the door of my bedroom open with (Y/N) walking in with a tray with a 2 big plates full of pancakes. “How did you know pancakes was one of my favorite comfort foods?” She giggled as she places the tray on the night stand “I’ve noticed that when the servants brought you food; you always took the pancakes over anything else.” I smiled genuinely, grabbing a plate as I proceed to sit in the middle of my bed. (Y/N) grabs her plate as she joins me “Did you want to watch a movie while we eat?” I nodded; taking a bite of the pancakes “Sounds good to me! What should we watch?” She takes a minute to think about her answer; perking up as she got the perfect idea “OOOH! There’s this new comedy movie that just came out actually. We can watch that.” I chuckled; taking another bite “Sounds great!”

The movie was really funny surprisingly. I’ve never been one to watch too much TV since it really scrambles the brain, but I honestly need the distraction. But I didn’t expect the sudden romance between the main guy and his sister’s best friend. I thought she said this was a comedy, maybe she missed that somewhere when looking at the trailer maybe? “Isn’t this a comedy?” She looks at the movie confused, then pulls her phone up to look at the genre of the film. “Oooooh it’s a romantic comedy. I’m so sorry we can change it if you want.” I chuckle as I start waving my hands back and forth “No no no no no! It’s fine! I was just wondering is all.” She puts her phone away; bringing her plate back in her lap “Well ok then! As long as you’re comfortable.” She smiles at me as she pats my shoulder. We turn our attention back to the movie; shoveling another fork full of pancakes into our mouths.

Everything was going good until a certain scene started to unveil. Of course it was implied, but still felt very realistic. The main guy was getting very….intimate with the best friend. Touching and caressing her as they kissed passionately; slowly undressing each other. I clear my throat as I hook my finger into the collar of the silk pjs; pulling out to let some air down my shirt.

I guess she really didn’t know this was going to be in the movie. I glance over at her to see how she was holding up with this. Her cheeks were flushed as she stared wide eyed at the scene. She swallowed hard as I noticed a tiny shift with her crossed legs; trying to inch closer together. I had to look away for she almost caught me staring at her. I feel my cheeks start to heat up from embarrassment. I literally have only been divorced for only a year and here I am; getting flustered over a “intimate” scene while sitting next to (Y/N) being flustered as well. Maybe she should have changed the movie? This should feel wrong to be like this next to your ex wife’s best friend…….but it strangely felt……so right at the same time. What am I thinking?! I’ve been with Lilith for so long and now a year later of not being with her; something like this is making me all hot and bothered so easily?! Maybe I am a little touch deprived due to everything, and rightfully so. But should I feel like this when around (Y/N)? Wouldn’t it be considered betrayal? Well, not really if Lilith left me to begin with. Maybe it’s not so wrong. I mean….I kinda did find (Y/N)…..rather attractive. Maybe….even more than a little~ Maybe…..it wouldn’t hurt to……indulge~

[toji-girl]

dare | titan! e. yeager

synopsis: If someone asked you if you thought Eren’s titan form was attractive you thought about the many ways to get out of the question because there’s no way he would let you do anything about it, right?

wc: 1.6k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + dark content + minors and empty blogs DNI + canonverse + mentions of alcohol + repost from my old blog + not beta read + fwb kinda? + this is how I picture him and it gave me the idea for this, and yes I’d let him do this to me + monsterfucking + pussy eating + tongue riding + cum eating + massive size kink + any missing tag lmk!

AN: I know I said aot wasn't part of my main fandoms anymore but I still write for them and I couldn't just let this not be seen because hello who doesn't want to fuck Eren in his Titan form? you say no you're just lying to yourself /jk

“Truth or dare,” Eren said with a cocky grin leaning against the wall opposite of you, he held a cup in one hand as he slowly slid down the stone watching you chew your lip, he’s always loved teasing you ever since you could remember and somehow he talked you into sneaking out when everyone was asleep to play a game of truth or dare in the dimly lit of the halls.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his cup taking a drink spitting the warm liquid out making him laugh. “What the hell is this?” You asked wiping your mouth with the back of your hand using your sleeve.

“It’s beer I stole from the Commander’s office.” Eren replied nonchalantly with a shoulder shrug like it wasn’t a big deal, he took the cup back and took a swig looking at you expecting his answer.

It actually didn’t take much for him to convince you to leave the girls bunk, hand in hand you both roamed the place finding a hidden corner, just the two of you, the air was thick and charged. Lately, you’ve been noticing him filling out more and more, growing his hair out, and gaining muscles you never thought he would have.

Eren snapped his fingers pulling you out of your trance, his shirtless body disappearing as you looked at him pulling your eyebrows together. “What?”

“Truth or dare sweetheart, and trust me when I say you’re going to like both of them.” He teased stretching his long legs out and brushing them against yours, again with a cocky smirk.

You weren’t sure when he let this side of himself free, Eren has always been a hothead and everyone knew it, but with you and Armin and Mikasa, he wasn’t like that unless one of you three needed to be set straight, sure he was a bit brash but he meant well.

You flicked a rock at him and rolled your eyes again crossing your legs at your ankles thinking of which one to pick, he said you’d like both so what could go wrong?

“Dare.”

Eren smiled baring his teeth as he stood up and held his hand down for you to take, you raised an eyebrow and slid your palm in his letting him help you up and press you against the wall, his hand was now on the side of your head and he was so close you could smell the beer, a mix of caramel and cocoa fanned over you as his vibrant green eyes were lit with a fire that you haven’t seen before.

He watched you swallow and stare back at him. “What’s your dare?”

“Let me eat you out in my Titan form.” He whispered leaning in brushing his lips against your ear.

You laughed and pushed against his chest feeling heat pool in your cheeks and between your legs, there was no way he was serious, but when you looked at him again you knew he was. Eren blinked a few times waiting for you again. “So?”

You sputtered trying to come up with an answer, you couldn’t lie, part of you was curious about how it would feel, you already rode in the palm of his hand before so it wasn’t anything new, but being naked and spread out for him? That was different. “Why do you want to do that?” You asked.

“Because I’ve been curious about it and I know you have too, you think I’m attractive, even in my Titan form.” He teased reaching out to cup your cheek leaning in to press a soft kiss on your forehead, it felt like a hundred of butterflies were flapping around in your belly now, you’ve known Eren most of your life and you two have been tangled in the sheets a few times already, it wasn’t anything new, you trusted him, but this?

“Fine, but how are we supposed to do this where no one can even see us?” You asked letting him guide you outside and past the stalls of the horses that snorted at you, you stopped him quickly and petted one.

Eren stood there and watched you for a moment drinking in the sight, you smiled and giggled when the horse’s lips grazed your palm and not only did his cock twitch but his heart was swelling in his chest.

A few minutes later Eren pulled you into an opening of the forest, far away from where everyone was sleeping, he let his hand slip from yours as he kissed you again pulling you towards him.

“I promise I won’t hurt you and if anything hurts just tap my palm twice and I’ll stop and come out of my form.” He said pulling away to look at you again.

The intense eye contact left you yearning for him to kiss you again but he stepped back enough and bit his hand transforming right before your eyes, he’s done it many times before, but it still left you in awe when he did it.

Once he was fully in his Titan form he bent down and scooped you upon his palm, warmth seeped through your clothes, and in your skin, the cold bitter wind was nothing to worry about now.

Bright green eyes shone as he stared at you moving his nose to nuzzle your knees apart huffing, he was growing impatient and watched as you slid your boots off letting him take them along with your pants and panties in his other hand, he curled his fingers around your smaller form protecting you from the harsh wind and blinked.

“Are you sure?” You asked leaning back propping yourself on your elbows as he nudged your legs apart again nodding his large head, his brown hair fell down in soft waves that blew in the breeze.

You nodded and shut your legs feeling his slick tongue glide up your legs before settling against your cunt, you gasped when he flicked your clit before licking up and down, his palm was warm but his tongue was hot as he continued to tease you, Eren watched your face contort in pleasure and embarrassment as you began to hump his tongue now, your hips lifting up to meet the lazy flicks of his tongue.

Your taste drove him wild and you felt him growl that made your bones shake and quiver almost.

“O-oh!” You moaned reaching out to grasp something when you felt his finger brush against you, you opened your eyes to see him staring at you as he pulled you up on your knees now watching you spread your legs wider.

His tongue was thin and pointy at the end making it easy for him to slide the tip inside of you, he could feel you fluttering around him as you wrapped your arms around his finger hanging on for dear life.

Pleasure shot up your spine as he filled you like you’ve never been before, the texture of his tongue was a bit rough as he thrust it in and out slow at first letting you get used to it, his eyes closed for a second trying not to come out of this form to fuck you against a tree, he opened his eyes just in time to see you grip his pinkie throwing your head back riding his tongue.

You were lost in the bliss and didn’t care if anyone caught you, including Commander Smith or Captain Ackerman, but you knew they would have choice words for what they stumbled upon. Bliss blinded everything and your critical thinking was no longer, instead, all you could think about was your orgasm, he leaned in more resting his nose closer, you leaned in to kiss the bridge before pulling away staring at him.

Your muscles almost cramped from how hard they clenched when your climax split at the seams. “Eren!” You moaned stilling your hips letting him take over finding the soft spot nestled in your cunt that had your toes curling and fingers digging in his finger as you rode your high out panting and sweating despite the cool air.

He pulled his tongue out and used his finger to press you back down on his palm spreading your legs again. “You want to do it again?” You asked stripping your jacket off, the heat from his body was getting overwhelming but you didn’t mind.

Eren nodded his head lolling his tongue out to lick you clean before slowly sliding back in you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you laid flat on your back, the pleasure made your mind hazy as he kept the slow pace up fucking you with his tongue now.

“Sensitive!” You whined feeling another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, either he didn’t hear you or he did but didn’t care because he went deeper using his other hand to keep your legs apart, he was persistent on making you cum again, just one more time he told himself growing drunk on the taste of you.

Your chest was heaving now as you arched your back succumbing to your second climax, clenching hard around him as he slowly pulled out cleaning you up again as he cradled you in his palm bringing you against his chest pressing your head against his chest letting you hear his heartbeat.

You panted and patted his chest cuddling into his palm and against his chest soaking up his warmth. “Maybe we can try that again.”

Eren snorted and put you down gently before coming out of his Titan and joining you on the forest floor wrapping you tight in a hug. “Maybe? You should’ve seen your face.” He teased kissing you before walking back to see Armin and Jean standing by the front doors.

Both of their faces were red, and they both looked anywhere but at you and Eren making him laugh knowing you two were caught but he didn’t care because he finally got a taste of you the way he wanted.

[notjustjavierpena]

The idea of javier and reader being a baby making factory is so 🤪🤪

Trying (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Actually! My idea of them is that they don’t do super well with their attempts at starting/expanding the family. Which is why I think that they accidentally made Sebastian; they didn’t think they were super fertile and got a lil sloppy. It has always taken a good chunk of time to get reader pregnant during the times they were actively trying but fate often has it that when you stop focusing on it, it becomes easy.

Word count: 500 words

Tags: Not explicit thoughts of infertility, trying for a bebe, soft!javi, the inherent suffering of being a person who has a womb, angst, hurt/comfort

Trying

“One line again,” you say quietly and try to hide your voice trembling as Javier leans against the bathroom sink. He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated sigh as the reality of not being lucky this time around either sets in. You shift on the toilet seat, “Really thought this was it this time.”

It’s been four months now without any luck.

“It’ll happen, baby,” he says without sounding overly optimistic. In fact, he sounds like he is in doubt, on the verge of giving up, and the tone of his voice makes you rise from your seat without a word. You twirl the pregnancy test in your hands for a brief moment before aggressively, and with exasperation, throwing it into the sink and pushing past your husband.

You start to cry the second that he cannot see you anymore. It’s big, heavy, and self-pitying tears that are accompanied by sobs as you walk into the kitchen with fast steps. You place both your palms on the counter, not caring about not having washed them yet, feeling stupid for being in this stupid house with two stupid spare bedrooms that you can’t help seeing as stupid nurseries.

Behind you, Javier says your name so softly that you heave for breath. You can only stammer your response, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Javier asks. You hear him come up behind you, so you turn to face him. Your face is tear-streaked, nose as well as mouth are puffy and red.

“The one thing my body is supposed to be good at doing and it’s not working. Probably won’t even be a good mom either,” your sniffles are filled with frustration, a fresh teardrop escaping as you tear yourself down in front of him.

“No, no, baby, no,” Javier shakes his head, tuts gently, and moves to cup your teary face. He wipes a few drops away with his thumbs, and you help by catching a few that threaten to drip off your chin, “It’ll happen. Think about how happy that’ll make us.”

“And if it doesn’t?” You know it’s a worst-case scenario, but admittedly it would be easier if people would only just talk about the struggles of getting pregnant. There is never talk about it not being a bed of roses, that it takes time for some couples. It’s always so fucking romantic and whoopsies, we’re having a baby.

“It will,” he stresses, holding your gaze while smiling gently, “Pero sí no, then we’ll figure it out. Maybe we’ll have our own Olivia like Connie and Steve.”

“Okay,” you reach up to hold onto his wrists, closing your eyes to steady your mind. He rests his forehead against yours.

“Okay,” he repeats, “And you’ll be the greatest momma in the world.”

You chuckle whilst still having tears in your eyes, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he chuckles too, “Now I think we need to wash your pee fingers.”

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

[vodika-vibes]

Can you please do Blue Daisy and Anemone for Crosshair with a Bounty Hunter Reader? I really love your stories, you're doing amazing!

For The Love Of A Sniper

Summary: You're a Bounty Hunter and Crosshair is your partner in every way. And when your family threatens you, Crosshair offers to deal with it.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1234

Warnings: Crosshair is soft

Prompts: Blue Daisy - Long Term Loyalty, Anemone - Undying Love

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I hope this is close to what you wanted, I was going to make this a sequel to my recent Crosshair series, but I had a better idea!

When you were a little girl, your parents planned your life almost to the minute. You were ferried from school to dance lessons or music lessons or voice lessons or language lessons. Every second of free time had to be accounted for.

You didn’t have time for friends, and barely had time for family.

Your parents also planned your outfits, frilly dresses in pastel colors and your hair meticulously curled every morning, and then styled with bows and ribbons. And shoes that were so uncomfortable that, on more than one occasion, you considered cutting your toes off so it would hurt less.

Even your schools were devoted to making you the best daughter. High end boarding schools with even more high end finishing classes, with the end goal of sending you to Naboo to attend Theeds Law School.

Perfection was the expectation.

And you were never perfect.

The day that your parents dropped you off at Law School, you dropped out. You managed to get the school to send the refund, nearly 3 million credits total, to your personal bank account, and then you spent a massive chunk of money cutting and dying your hair, and then buying a new wardrobe. 

Within a week of your parents dropping you off on Naboo, you were gone.

That was four years ago. And over the last four years, you’ve made something of a name for yourself as a bounty hunter. You have your own ship, painted vibrant purple and named Spoiler, and you often bounce between cargo delivery and Bounty Hunting, based on what is the most profitable at the time.

Sometimes you do both at the same time, just for funsies.

And you know, because you’ve seen it, your name is plastered on missing persons lists and on bounty boards. Too bad that you don’t look anything like the cherub looking girl on the posters anymore. 

In fact, the only person who might recognize you as the girl in the poster is your boyfriend. And even then, only because you told him. 

Speaking of said boyfriend-

You hang your body armor on the rack in the cargo hold, and climb the stairs to the main part of the ship. You slide open the door to the bedroom, and grin at the man stretched out on the bed. “You ever planning on getting up, handsome?”

Crosshair seems to stretch out even more, and he tucks his arms under his head, his dark eyes locked on your face, “I thought I’d be lazy today,” He drawls, “You could join me.”

You lean against the doorframe, a small smile on your lips. He really is too handsome. Especially lounging in your bed wearing nothing but the dark sweatpants that you bought him. He looks healthy, finally, having put some weight on now that he’s no longer with the Empire.

“See something you like, doll?”

You grin at him, lazy and slow, “I see something that’s mine.” You tease.

Crosshair chuckles and shifts to free one arm, “Come here, princess.” He almost purrs. And, really, how are you expected to deny that request?

You kick your boots off and climb on the bed to drape yourself across his chest. You take a moment to press a light kiss just over his heart, before you slide up to tuck your head against his neck. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm, I did.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder and presses a light kiss to the top of your head, “And then I got an alert-” He uses his free hand to grab the datapad on the side of the bed, “Someone put a flag on all accounts attached to your old name.”

“Another one?” You roll slightly so you’re able to see the screen, and then you sigh, “This is, what, number five? Six?”

“Eight in the last six months.” Crosshair corrects.

“Well, following the money is step one in the ‘how to find someone who doesn’t want to be found’ handbook, I suppose.” You mutter under your breath as you roll again and fold your arms on his chest.

“You would know, wouldn’t you, princess.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like those accounts are attached to my name anymore.” You reply as you look down at his face, “Which is a shame, there’s nearly 3 million credits in that account.”

Crosshair reaches up and slides his fingers across your cheek, “Those credits have so many strings attached, you might as well be a puppet.”

“Mm, don’t I know it.” You lean in and kiss him gently, “Luckily, they won’t find me. And 3 million credits is a lot less than I would pay to never be their perfect little doll ever again.”

His eyes glitter, “Even if they did, if you think I’m giving you up without a fight-”

A soft laugh falls from your lips, “Aww, I knew you loved me.”

His lips curl up into an amused smile, “You’re alright, I suppose.” In spite of his light, teasing, words his hand tightly clutches at your hip. 

You shift and press feather light kisses across his face, “I’m not going anywhere. Not willingly.” You whisper to him.

His grip loosens slightly, “Of course not. You’d never find anyone as good as I am.” His hand slithers up your side to grip the collar of your shirt between two strong fingers, and he pulls you down to crash your lips against his. “We do, however,” He murmurs after a moment, “have to deal with this.”

“Can’t we ignore it?” You whine.

“You know we can’t.” He finally moves his other arm from under his head, and he wraps it tightly around you, “Let me handle it.”

You nervously bite your lower lip, “I don’t know-”

“I’m not going to hand you in,” Crosshair murmurs, as gentle with your anxieties regarding your family as you are with his anxiety about you leaving, “My loyalty is to you. Now and forever.”

You sigh, “I know. I just don’t like you going off on your own.” You kiss him quickly, and then press a longer, slower, kiss against his lips, “I never wanted to demand your loyalty.”

“You never had to.” There’s something soft and vulnerable in his gaze, and you think you love him a little more for it, “You didn’t expect my loyalty like my brothers.” He kisses you just under your eyes, “And you never demanded it like the Empire.” He drags his lips across the bridge of your nose, “You were loyal to me, so I became loyal to you.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You say warmly.

He rolls his eyes, “Then how’s this? I love you. Forever. Until there’s no more breath in my lungs. Until my heart beats it last.”

You press your forehead against his, “You’re going to make me cry and mess up my make-up.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll never say anything so gross ever again.” He jokes. “What do you say, Princess? Trust me to handle this?”

“Deal. You can handle it, and I’ll just…hang out in the ship for you.”

“Deal.” He pulls you back into a deep kiss, “Later though. For now you’re on top of me and won’t stop squirming-” You release a bubbly laugh as he flips the pair of you and pins you to the bed, “Really, you brought this on yourself, princess.”

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (12)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven!

Notes and TW: Last chapter! Side stories will follow. Thank you for sticking with this series for so long! This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

7:30 P.M. DD/MM/YYYY

I thought I knew the truth for a while—that this world existed inside a story. That this was a world which revolved around a nameless, faceless, flawless main character. This entire world around me existed to serve one purpose: to present trials to the main character until she eventually finds a happy ending with her one and only. This world was created for “(Y/N).”

I was Friend A. Friend A was never mentioned again after page two of that story.

It turns out that I was sort of wrong. This world is made for stories, from stories, and (Y/N) happened to be the main character at the time. Now that I’m the author, I made myself the main character.

You wrote “story” and “world” so much that they hardly look like real words anymore. The tip of your pen hovers over the first page of your journal. It’s your first time keeping one, and you aren’t certain how to proceed. What tone do you use? Should it be informal or professional? How long should each entry be? How detailed should you make it?

The trapdoor to the attic flips open. Floyd’s head pokes through it like a garden eel in the sand.

“Whatcha doin’ over there? Still lookin’ for that manuscript?”

You shake your head. The manuscript for (Y/N)’s story disappeared without a trace after your meeting with Hans. No matter how hard you searched, nothing turned up, so you could only assume he retrieved it.

“No use in looking for it. I’m starting on my journal.” The pen twirls in your hand. “I’m not really sure how I want to write it.”

He hoists himself up and saunters over to where you’re curled up at the window. He peers at your handwriting. Flippantly, he flops on the floor next to you and yawns.

“Who caaares. Write whatever ya feel like writin’. It’s not like the one before was any good.”

The previous author’s manuscript was riddled with inconsistencies, plot holes, and grammar mistakes. It wouldn’t be a massive problem. Hans would simply have to work harder to fill in the gaps.

“The previous one failed, though.”

“Then just don’t fail.” He grins up at you. “Easy, right?”

You pinch his nose, laughing when he swats at your hand.

“Easier said than done.” Despite that, his words ease the burden on your shoulders just a bit. You don’t need to overthink this. It’s your story, yours to tell however you’d like. “Thanks for the advice, though.”

“Sure, sure.” Your name rolls off his tongue dismissively. “You worry too much.”

You glance at him. “You’ve been calling me ‘Red Handfish’ recently, why’d you switch back to my name?”

The lamplight glints in Floyd’s eyes briefly, then he closes them. A lazy grin spreads on his lips.

“I was calling ya ‘Red Handfish’ ’cuz I was hopin’ you’d get your hands all red and bloody again.” A huff of air escapes him. “Shoulda been there when you beat up the security.”

“Typically, you’re supposed to not hope I’m beating up your men.”

“It’s fine. Not like Jade and I need much protectin’.” His voice quiets down to a mumble. “You’re enough for security or whatever.”

His voice trails off at the end. Soon, quiet snores fill the attic. Seeing that he isn’t planning on disrupting your writing, your attention returns to your journal. Following his advice might not be a bad idea.

My main priority was to break the curse on Mr. and Mrs. Leech. I thought I’d have to ask (Y/N) to reach out to Vil Schoenheit or write something in this journal, but it turns out I didn’t have to do anything. Hans went ahead and nudged the odds in my favour already. At least, I suspect he had a hand in it. But I’m never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I’ll happily accept that Walrus’s team and our own people have found a way to break the curse.

Azul was slightly disappointed that he didn’t manage to find a method on his own. He really wanted to put the twins in his debt, but I guess he’ll have to sulk. His specialty is potions, after all. Not curses. He’s also a little salty because this implies Vil Schoenheit is still more skilled than him on the subject of curses. His competitive nature never dies down when it comes to other competent people, even after all these years.

Anyway, the curse was undone three days ago. They’ve woken up perfectly stable and healthy, if a little tired. The twins have spent nearly every waking hour in their room. I’m glad they’re all looking much more lively.

Their parents wanted to go right back to work, but Jade and Floyd have been very insistent on making sure they rest. Right now, Jade and his parents have decided to split up the work equally, but Jade plans on eventually relinquishing his position as the temporary head of the Leech Mafia. He doesn’t want it back anytime soon. His parents might want him to keep observing their work, but I think he’ll take a long breather after the Carpenter Mafia dissolves. He says he wants to join a research lab on fungi. I’m sure he’ll enjoy himself there.

Speaking of Jade’s interests, Floyd owes him quite a bit for breaking his terrariums. You cast a glance at the twin dozing off on the floor. Jade’s been working him hard. Just as you’re about to pull a knitted blanket off the window seat and drape it over his torso, Jade climbs up to the attic.

“Ah, I thought I might find you two here.” He ignores your shushing motion, speaking nearly louder than his usual conversational volume. “Have you made any progress on that journal?”

“Keep it down, Floyd’s sleeping.”

“Oh? I suppose he is.” He smiles as though he’s entirely innocent. “Even though he should be running an errand on the west side of the city right now. Isn’t that so, my dear brother?”

Floyd stirs, brows furrowing as he grumbles. “Fuck off, man.”

“I’m afraid you’re late. Why don’t you head out? It wouldn’t do for you to procrastinate.” Jade leans over him, his shadow eclipsing Floyd’s face. The latter gripes some more before rolling away and hopping right through the trapdoor. His footsteps echo through the halls, eventually leading to the sound of the front door.

“He’s tired. You should let him rest.” You close your journal and set it beside you.

He kneels by your seat and rests his head on your knee. Gingerly, you reach out and comb your fingers through his hair. His entire body melts against the wall and your knee.

“I am also tired.” His eyelids drop halfway, a pitiable pout on his lips. “Much more so than he is, I’m sure.”

“And what? You want a gold medal for the Fatigue Olympics?” Despite your words, your other hand holds his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek. “Come on, get off the floor. It can’t be comfortable.”

He sighs in contentment. “With the way you’re touching me, I have half a mind to stay where I am.”

You’ve come to realize that Jade acts this way when he’s looking for attention, and he only actively looks for attention from you. With a sigh escaping the smile on your lips, you ease his head off your knee and move your legs so that your feet touch the floor. He has the gall to look like a kicked puppy.

“You’re so dramatic.” You pat the cushioned space next to you. “Sit up here.”

It’s like his fatigue disappears as soon as you extend the invitation. He wastes no time in sitting next to you, his thigh pressing against yours. One of his hands reaches behind you. You feel it causing the cushions to shift under you as he uses it to support his weight. Strangely, it feels more intimate than if he had touched you directly. The knowledge that his arm is there creates a sense of security. Sturdy, safe, like the face of a cliff that has your back. He’ll never be a threat to you. You think back to what you once thought of people who trust Jade, and you wonder if you’re a fool, desperate, or if you have something on him.

It might not be so bad to be a fool once in a while.

You lean into his side and rest your head on his shoulder. A pause, followed by the light pressure of his cheek against your hair. His body is cool to the touch like always, and you find comfort in it.

“I’ll help you make new terrariums to replace the ones Floyd broke.”

“How kind of you.” The hand behind you lifts, only to find its place on your waist, securing you to his side. “In that case, I should consider what I’d like to grow in them. Lichen would decorate some surfaces well, but I doubt it would be possible.”

“Lichen?” You often see it back home near the shore. “Why not?”

“It cannot survive in a closed system like my terrariums.” His voice lowers to a soft, almost sweet tone. “It requires clean, fresh air, outside the confines of a box that I control. The charm of keeping a terrarium is that I control every factor within it, down to what lives or dies. But despite the fact that it eludes my grasp, I adore observing its beauty in the environment where it thrives.”

Somehow, you don’t think he’s talking about lichen anymore.

“Lichen grows on trees and rocks, right?” You think about the cliffside. Patches of pale green life covered the rocks where you met Jade. It brought a sort of earthy, rustic quality to the area. “It’s pretty. I think I’ve seen a few of your photos focusing on it.”

“Yes, it needs to be anchored to a sturdy surface.” He adjusts his grip on your waist. “Unassuming, allowing other elements of the scenery to shine, but charming and effective in its own right.”

You don’t want to ask if he’s referring to you. He’ll surely tease you for being self-absorbed. However, you are not so prideful as to not acknowledge what he’s trying to say.

“I sort of understand wanting to be anchored to something.” You place one hand over his. “It’s easier to let my guard down when there’s something that can protect my back.”

“Allow me to assist you with that.” He intertwines your fingers. “If you must be anchored to something, I’ll be more than happy to provide you with support forever, until you ask me to stop.”

“All this talk about ‘forever.’” A grin pulls at your lips. There’s no harm in teasing him once in a while. “It’s like you’re trying to marry me. What’s with that, huh?”

His entire body freezes. You lift your head from his shoulder, trying to look at his face.

“Jade? I was joking—”

He gently presses against your temple, his wrist blocking your eyes as he guides your head back down to his shoulder. What a letdown. This time, you really wanted to see his expression.

“Incidentally,” he says, “would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

“You changed the topic way too abruptly.” Laughter bubbles in your throat. “I thought you were better at making conversation than that.”

“I’m inclined to disagree.” He doesn’t elaborate. “Are you free tomorrow evening? We can book a reservation for that restaurant you wanted to try.”

Usually, you wouldn’t turn it down. But . . .

“Sorry, I’ll be out with (Y/N) all day.” You’ve missed her. And after she called you in distress over losing the polaroids you took together, you promised to replace them with new ones. There’s so much you have yet to do with her. “Maybe the day after?”

Jade sighs loudly, as though he’s the most pitiful being in the world. Amidst teasing laughter, you close your journal and focus your attention on him. It’s alright to take your time writing it. Your story is a process that does not need to be rushed. It may only be a page at the moment, but one day, you’re sure this journal will fill with your experiences, plans, and thoughts. You will continue on living as your own person—not a side character or a main character in a grander scheme, but as yourself. To live as a human being with your unique experiences—that is your story.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

And the Oscar goes to...

PAIRING | Husband!Dad!Robert Downey Jr. x Wife!Mom!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 3.6K

SUMMARY | Your husband, Robert, is on the receiving end of an Oscar, and you decide to celebrate it differently than you usually celebrate his wins. He trusts you fully as he allows you to take the lead in the bedroom, making it a celebration that neither of you will ever forget.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | RPF, established relationship, age gap (~ 20 years), use of nicknames (Gorgeous, Bubba), referenced pregnancy.

SMUT | D/S dynamics, Soft Dom!Reader, Sub!RDJ, use of traffic light system, sensory play/deprivation (blindfold), teasing, dirty talk, praise, Daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, hair pulling, oral (F&M receiving), face sitting, face fucking, gagging, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), multiple orgasms, cockwarming, aftercare.

A/N | This story is dedicated to my best friend and the biggest RDJ supporter I have ever met, @ccbsrmsf1! I am so incredibly proud of him for finally winning an Oscar, so naturally, I had to write a story about how I would celebrate with him! This is proofread by the lovely @ccbsrmsf1, for which I'm deeply grateful ❤️

EVENTS Masterlist | @anyfandomfluffbingo | Trophy spouse

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | Photo: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Robert Downey Jr. Masterlist

"Robert Downey Junior!" The words still echo in your head as you go home after the award ceremony. Your husband, the Dad of your little daughter, and the love of your life has officially won an Oscar. All his hard work has paid off after all these years, and you're grateful to be by his side through it all.

The award is clutched tightly in his right hand, his left hand interlaced with yours as you enjoy the moment. Comfortable silence hangs in the air as you look at him with a wide smile. Knowing how much it means to him, you're incredibly proud of him for winning the award.

"I love you, Gorgeous," he whispers before capturing your lips with his in a sweet, sensual kiss. Your husband may be around 20 years your senior, but that doesn't take away from your shared love. You've never known true love before meeting Robert, but when he promised to show you what that would look like, you knew you were on board for the long haul. And here you are, almost 15 years later, by his side during the biggest night of his life.

"I love you too, Robert," you whisper to him. You allow your head to rest on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut as you take in this moment. When he puts his head on yours, he lets out a content sigh. Nights like these take a lot out of you both, but that doesn't stop you from celebrating when you're back home. You plan on making it a celebration never to forget.

The moment you both step in your front door, the award is put away for safekeeping, and you make your way to the bedroom. You two have perfected this routine over the years, but tonight, it calls for special treatment.

"Robert?" you ask as he walks into the attached closet, ready to remove his jewelry and glasses.

"Yes, Gorgeous?" he says as he turns around, facing you before taking a last glance as you're still wearing your dress. He had chosen the one you're wearing to match your skin tone, and you felt like a princess on the red carpet tonight.

"What do you think of reversing the roles for a night? Me taking care of you for once? You deserve it after everything you've done," you tell him as you walk over. Now that you're not wearing your heels anymore, you must look up at him, as the two of you have quite a bit of a height difference.

"That's a perfect idea, Gorgeous. There's no one I trust more to take care of me than you," he tells you, and the feeling of pride blooms in your chest at his words.

"That being said, I was also hoping we could spice it up a bit if you're open to it," you tell him, and he looks at you with a quirked brow.

"I want to blindfold you tonight so you will be completely at my mercy. You will be allowed to touch me - not yourself - the entire time. That being said, I will also use the traffic light system during the entire session," you tell him, and he listens attentively to everything you're saying.

"Green means that you're good, and we can continue. Yellow means that you need to stop for a moment before crossing a boundary you're uncomfortable with or need to reposition. Red means that we will stop and move on to aftercare immediately," you tell him. He tells you loud and clear that he agrees with everything you said.

"Perfect," you tell him before standing on your tiptoes to give him a soft kiss on his lips. Consent has always been meaningful in your relationship, whether in the bedroom or outside, to make it safe for everyone to explore what they are or are not comfortable with at their own pace.

"I want you to get completely bare for me and get seated on the foot of the bed. And I won't say no to you showing off a little when you do it," you tell him, and the smile on his lips lets you know he's more than okay with doing precisely that.

One by one, he sheds his layers of clothing, each exposing more skin as they fall to the floor. When his entire torso is bare, you can't help but let your gaze wander over his muscled abdomen, your lip pulled between your teeth as you take a peek at his bulge as well. He tends to forgo wearing underwear, instead preferring the feeling of freedom over the confinements of tight boxer shorts.

When Robert is soft, he already has quite a noticeable bulge in his pants, but now that he is slowly getting hard, it's starting to strain against the fabric of his pants. His long, skilled fingers unbutton and unzip his pants quickly before the fabric slides down his thick thighs and onto the floor.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as his cock bobs up and down between his legs, the tip already flushed a beautiful shade of pink with his balls hanging beneath them perfectly, ready for you to play with later. After showing off for a few more moments by flexing his biceps and abs, he sits on the foot of the bed, just like you told him to.

"Good boy," you tell him, and you can see his cock twitch as his eyes flutter shut from anticipation. Meanwhile, you have also undressed yourself, being left in the beautiful lingerie he bought you for tonight. The cups of the bra lift your breasts to the point where they're almost spilling out, and the panties are barely there, just the way you both like it.

Every inch of your body is on display as you step in between his legs, your finger hooking beneath his chin to meet your gaze. The usual dark brown of his eyes has almost completely disappeared as his pupils are blown with lust.

"Ready?" you ask softly.

"Ready." As soon as the word has left his mouth, you bring the silk fabric of the blindfold to his face, covering his eyes before tying a knot in the back. It's secure enough not to go anywhere but not so tight that it hurts him. You do it exactly like he's done with you countless times before.

As soon as his sight is taken away, his hands find your thighs, allowing his calloused fingertips to commit every inch of them to memory.

"What's your color?" you ask when the blindfold is adjusted correctly.

"Green," he tells you confidently, and you smile at how he says it. His trust in you is visible in his voice, making the butterflies inside flutter wildly.

You sink on your knees between his legs, and the soft carpet under your knees makes it quite comfortable. Your hands are on his thighs before slowly inching higher, your fingernails softly gliding over the insides of his thighs to tease him a little bit.

A content sound leaves his lips at the feeling, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. After teasing him for a few more moments, you wrap your hand around his now fully hard cock, but it's so big you can barely fit your hand around it as you slowly work him up and down.

"It's so big I can barely fit my hand around it," you tell him between giving small kitten licks to his slit, his mouth going slack in anticipation of what's to come.

"You taste so good, Daddy," you say, and his cock twitches in your hand, which only serves to make you even more wet. The power you have over him, the trust he has put in your hands, has made you so aroused your panties are already completely soaked, and you're dripping onto the carpet below you.

Without any warning, you take his tip into your mouth, sucking softly to earn yourself a delicious groan that sends a shiver down your spine. At the same time, your free hand goes to grab his balls, rolling and squeezing carefully while you slowly work more of him into your mouth.

"That's it, Gorgeous, suck Daddy's cock like you're made for it," he says as his hands are holding tightly onto the sheets. His knuckles have turned completely white when his tip hits the back of your throat, his head falling back at the combined pleasures you're giving him.

"Feels so good, fuck!" he exclaims as you suck him down even more. Even though you've never been able to take his entire length down your throat, you're certainly willing to try and see how far you can get every time. Before you do that, you pull off him with a loud pop.

"I want you to cum down my throat, Daddy; I want to swallow every drop of your delicious cum," you tell him, and he groans in response to your filthy comment. He revels in the dirty talk you two share during these moments, as it adds to his neverending pleasure.

"Yeah? Does my little slut want Daddy's cum? You better work for it then," he says through gritted teeth as one of his hands is placed on your head, pushing you onto his cock until you're gagging around him. As soon as he hears it, he lets up a little, giving you a moment to breathe before doing it again and repeating this quite a few times.

"What's your color, Gorgeous?" Robert asks you this time, and you tell him that it's 'so fucking green' before he goes back to what he did earlier. However, this time he mainly fucks your mouth and throat enough to be still comfortable; all the while, you never stop playing with his balls, and your hand is still wrapped around the part of him you can't reach with his mouth.

"Oh, fuck, 'm cumming, Gorgeous! Fuck, FUCK, FUCK!" he exclaims before his orgasm washes over him, his cum shooting into your throat as you suck your cheeks in. You moan around him at the taste of his cum as he pulls out, every last drop being licked from his tip as it slides out your mouth.

You get up from your placement on the floor before straddling his lap, being mindful of his sensitive cock as it's lying between his thighs. Your arms are draped loosely over his shoulders as you lean in to capture his lips with yours, his tongue instantly slipping into your mouth.

The taste of him and his cum is still fresh on your tongue, and you swallow down his groan as it is shared between you two. One of your hands tangles into his hair while the other is placed on his neck, his own hands kneading the flesh of your ass.

As soon as you pull away, you smile at the thought of what you're about to do next.

"I believe you have to remind yourself of the moment when I said I was supposed to be the one taking care of you," you say, and a content sound slips from Robert's lips.

"Well, since you did not listen to me, I'm going to have to make you listen by using you for my pleasure instead of yours this time. Does that sound fair to you?"

"Yes, Gorgeous," he says, followed by a small sigh. You carefully push him backward until he's lying flat on his back.

"I am going to sit on your face, and you will eat out my pussy until I cum for you. Your hands will stay on my thighs at all times, and if you have to stop, tap either one of my thighs three times, okay?" you ask him, his tongue darting out of his mouth as he's waiting for you to finish.

"Yes." With that, you pull down your now completely ruined panties before discarding them on the floor and taking your place on his face. His arms are hooked over your thighs, and his fingers dig into your flesh as soon as his tongue makes contact with your drenched pussy.

You let out a loud moan as he slurps up every last drop of your juices before letting his tongue dip into your entrance as well as play with your sensitive clit. One of your hands tangles into his hair, and you pull hard as you rock your hips back and forth, the other one finding its place behind you on his chest to give you more leverage.

"That's it, lick my fucking clit until I cum! I'm so close, Daddy, 'm gonna cum for you!" The words are followed by some incoherent thoughts as the pleasure inside you is bound to explode.

The pace you're setting is brutal, but he doesn't let up for even a second, and before you know it, you're entirely soaking the bottom half of his face as your orgasm washes over you, your head thrown back in pleasure with a loud exclaim of his name. It is one of the most intense orgasms you've ever had, and you let yourself fall forward as you go completely limp for a long moment.

"I will never get enough of your sweet taste, Gorgeous, especially when I can drink it directly from the source," he says with a grin. You sigh in contentment before picking yourself back up, ready to move on with the rest of your scene together.

"What's your color, Daddy?"

"So fucking green, Gorgeous, 'm feeling amazing right now," he tells you, and you lean in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"Good. I want you to sit up and carefully move backward until you feel the pillows so you can get seated comfortably against the headboard, okay?" you ask, and he nods. He does it all while blindfolded, and you help him get comfortable when he has found his place.

"To finish off our special celebration, I'm going to ride this delicious monster cock of yours until you're cumming deep inside my tight, warm pussy as a reward for you being good tonight," you tell him, and he hums in delight.

"Sounds perfect, Gorgeous," he whispers before you place a kiss on his lips and straddle his hips, his cock fully hard as it's lying against his abdomen. A small dribble of pre-cum leaks from the tip as you grab it and line it up before slowly sinking, giving yourself the time to properly adjust to the stretch of his cock inside you.

When he eventually bottoms out, you both let out long, broken moans, the pleasure threatening to become too much right at that moment.

"Color?" ''Green, Gorgeous, 'm always green with you," he whispers, and you can't help but chuckle at his words.

"You feel so good when you're wrapped around me. So warm 'n' tight," he says as he pulls you against him, his face nuzzling in your neck as he inhales your scent. Warm vanilla combined with a hint of something spicy has his mind going into overdrive.

"I want to have another baby with you, Gorgeous. I want to have another beautiful baby that looks just like you, with your beautiful eyes, nose, and lips. Please, shall we make another baby?" he asks, and you're grateful he's blindfolded; otherwise, he would have seen the bright red color on your cheeks at the confession of his words.

"Yes, Robert, I want that too. I want all of that and more; please fuck a baby into me!" you tell him before you start lifting yourself and sinking back down, finding a rhythm that has you both moaning and groaning.

Robert leans forward as he makes contact with your pulse point, sucking a deep purple bruise there as you keep riding him, your head lulling to the side as he does so.

"God, that's it, Gorgeous, ride this cock like my perfect slut. Can't wait to fuck another baby into you, that's what you want, isn't it? To have every last drop of my cum in this sweet pussy of yours until you're pregnant?" he asks, and you just nod in response, even though he can't see it. You don't trust yourself enough not to let it slip in the heat of the moment that you’re already pregnant.

"I'm gonna cum, Daddy! Please cum with me!" you tell him, and he does precisely that. The second you're both falling over the edge, Robert pulls you close to his body as his hands rub soft circles over your back.

"That's it, Gorgeous. Doin' so well for me," he says as you melt into his embrace. You two stay like this for quite a while, even after he has gone soft inside you. Once the blindfold is finally removed, you're very happy to be looking into your husband's eyes again, a broad smile appearing on your lips as you do.

"I love you so much, Robert. And congratulations again on winning the Oscar; no one deserved it more than you," you tell him, and tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

"I couldn't have done it without you or our baby June," he tells you, and the tears start to roll down his cheeks at the thought of his daughter. She is an exact copy of you, from the hair to the facial features, but she has the character of her Dad, making her the perfect combination of you both.

"Don't cry, Bubba. We will always support you no matter what," you whisper before kissing his nose softly. His eyes flutter shut as the tears keep finding their way onto his cheeks, and you keep wiping them away. You'll always be there to support him, no matter what.

"I love you so much, and I'm forever grateful to have you by my side," he tells you, and you nod.

"I love you too, Robert. But it's about time we get cleaned up and cuddle before sleep. My Mom will be here to drop June off around 9, so we should get some sleep while we still can," you tell him, and he nods.

The clean-up is swift, and before you know it, you're dressed in a pair of panties and one of Robert's shirts, and he's dressed in nothing but basketball shorts. If little June, your 3-year-old daughter, decides to run into your bedroom in the morning, you're both adequately dressed.

That night, you both sleep like logs, and all too soon for your liking, your alarm goes off, but you get out of bed anyway. You have to prepare a little surprise for your husband, so you have told him he can stay in bed, and he happily does as he turns over again.

As soon as your Mom walks through the door with June, she immediately stretches her arms out to be held by you.

"Good morning, Princess! Did you have fun at Grandma and Grandpa's house last night?" you ask after giving her a big kiss on her cheek.

"Yeah! Can I cuddle Daddy now?" she asks, and you shake your head with a smile at her comment. She's a Daddy's girl through and through, but before she can wake him up, you must change her shirt first.

"I want you to help me surprise Daddy, okay? But to do that, we need to put another T-shirt on you that says 'Big Sister' on it! Because that's what you're going to be later this year. You are going to be the best big sister to the baby growing in Mommy's belly!" you tell her, and she looks at you with wide eyes.

"Yay! I'm a big sister!" she exclaims excitedly, making you smile widely. Her enthusiasm is like her Daddy's, and you cannot get enough of it.

"You are, but Daddy doesn't know yet so that you can surprise him," you tell her again. She agrees before allowing you to change her unicorn shirt for a bright pink one with "BIG SISTER" written across it.

"Alright, go surprise Daddy!" you tell her, and she's immediately off to the bedroom, where she knows he will be. You and your Mom are as close behind her as she is.

"Daddy! Daddy! I'm a big sister!" she happily says as she runs into the bedroom. It takes Robert quite a long moment to understand what's going on, but when it finally clicks, he couldn't be happier.

"Do you want to be a big sister?" he asks, and June nods excitedly.

"Yes! I'm a BIG sister now," she says with her arms raised high, and you come to sit on the edge of the bed, where June and Robert are currently cuddling.

"I'm pregnant again, Robert, and if everything goes according to plan, we'll have a beautiful Halloween baby," you tell him, and for the second time in less than 12 hours, tears of joy roll down his cheeks. The last time he felt this happy was when you told him you were pregnant with your oldest daughter, and to have another addition to the family makes him feel extremely proud.

"Did you also know Daddy won a big prize yesterday?" Robert asks her, and she nods.

"Yes, Grandma showed me! Good job, Daddy. You won a big prize, and I am a big sister. Now we're both big!" she rambles, and you cannot stop laughing at it. Her enthusiasm is amazing, and you never want her to grow up. If it were up to you, you would freeze this moment and stay in it forever because this is what pure happiness feels like.

[adelacreations]

Fusion Dance:

I think someone mentioned this on discord but how would Lord Billy react to a pocketverse Billy?

So I wrote a bit of a ficlet to go with this Tagging @neonponders and @wrecked-fuse as well XD enjoy this little blurb I vomited out!

-------------

Sometimes, Billy wonders why he even bothers anymore. Steve Harrington has gotten along well with his children, it was important to him. But that came with getting involved with his children's antics. Both him and that boy-child of his. Sorry. Dustin.

He was getting better at remembering his name. For the sake of Lucas, who has a little crush on Steve's son. Regardless of that fact, the castle had been livelier than Billy has ever seen. Or was used to. Even with his servants bustling around. Anyways. "Steve...darling. What is that in your hands?" he asked slowly staring at the cupped hands of his lover. Steve only grinned, holding his hands out towards him, "Have a peek, Lady Bird~" His children claimed that they had found something in the courtyard and dragged Steve to go and check it out. Billy hadn't cared much, it might have been another bug or small mammal. Not...whatever this was.

It was small and...

Billy pressed his lips into a thin line, he really had no idea what he was looking at. Where was that-ah there it was, in the bottom left drawer. He didn't use it all that much anymore, his magnifying glass but it helped. Especially now, squinting as he peered through the glass. He said nothing at first, just staring at what he was seeing. "What a peculiar creature you are." Everything and everyone was small to him, he always had to be careful not to crush the many good things he had in his life with his abnormal strength. But this.

Glaring up at him was a mini version of him. Well, kind of. This one had a mullet, an opened red shirt and jeans. With a small pout on his face. It-he, well he was adorable. The poor thing was shaking though, might be through fear. Billy had that affect on people, for better or for worst.

Billy guessed that he could fit into his pocket if he put him in there. "I suppose your name is...Billy?"

"Where's my Biwwy!"

Billy raised an eyebrow at Steve who shrugged a little bit, "The little guy apparently got lost, stumbling into some weird portal or something from what he said. He's far from home."

"Clearly," Billy muttered in response, reaching out with one finger to poke at the little's cheek. "I won't hurt you." Billy wasn't going to comment on the warm feeling he felt when the miniature version of him clung to his finger, his eyes watering with tears and bottom lip puckered.

"Okay...where's my Stevie...?"

Oh. They were a pair. He and Steve looked at each other, the other mouthing 'no Stevie' to him. Huh, the poor thing really did get lost then. Steve grinned up at him, "We are a pair."

"Seems like I can never get rid of you then," Billy said with a smirk, leading over to give Steve a kiss. "We should get this one something to eat first, and maybe getting that agent of yours to help get him home." Steve scowled with a roll of his eyes, opting to bringing the little Billy to his chest, allowing him to slip inside of his coat pocket.

"Hopper isn't my agent."

"Hm."

"Billy!"

---------

"So that was how they found him in hanging on one of the candle holders. Sorry about that, you must have been really worried about him."

Billy paused in his reading, the quiet chomps and clattering of the plate next to him were the only other sounds in the main hall. He had to bar the kids from coming around the little Billy with their sickles. They had pouted only to relent when the little guy had yelled at them. Billy closed the book in his lap, taking up the crimson wine glass and taking a sip.

"I think your friends are here-"

"Biwwy!"

Little Billy jumped up from the saucer, waving his arms at the people following Steve. Billy raised an eyebrow at the two...well regular versions of themselves. Then again, they had the little ones already, there shouldn't be that much of a surprise.

"You're big."

Billy smirked, snapping his book shut and standing up from the couch. He grinned at the shock on both of the other Billy and Steve standing before him with a little Steve in that Steve's pocket. "9 foot 6, but who is really counting here?"

"Stevie! Cwere! He has coowkies!"

[navstuffs]

Creep

Pairing: Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: "You are so fucking special. I wish I was special"'; because sometimes love isn't enough.

Warning Tags: MAJOR ANGST!!!, italics represent the past, suicide attempt!!, alcoholism, mention of a suicide note, hurt/no comfort, OPEN ENDING (you chose your own), depression, anxiety, reader needs love, LEON NEEDS LOVE!, leon self depreciates a lot.

Author's Notes: hiii! i had this idea in my head for a while, and the request helped it! this fic is heavily based on creep by radiohead and black by pearl jam and, i hope with all my soul i did justice. i hope you enjoy your reading!

taglist - @nexysworld | my leon's masterlist

As repetitive as one could say, Leon Kennedy is at the bar again. He sits by his usual stool closer to the corner, away from everyone; the one stool bartenders are used to seeing him mostly every Tuesday, Thursday, and sometimes Friday. He orders his regular: a cup of their most potent whiskey. Tonight on duty, Eric, an employee who likes to give special attention to pretty ladies, not rock bottom men like Leon who constantly seek comfort in the bottom of a cup.

Tonight things look different.

Leon looks more miserable than his usual self. An experienced bartender like Eric saw the signs since Leon got in: good bartenders are trained for that. It becomes more evident when Leon Kennedy places a ring before him as he savors his first cup. Eric didn't know Leon was married, not that he should be surprised. An attractive man like that wouldn't stay single for so long. Even if they looked like rock bottom.

"Problems in paradise?" Eric's curiosity speaks loud, or it could also be the fact no lady who looks remotely under thirty is at the bar right now.

Leon gives a sad smirk, the whiskey burning down his throat, bringing that sense of familiarity into his veins. Reaching the high he is searching for will take longer, especially tonight. Leon continues to spin the ring on his index finger as he answers, his eyes never lifting up. 

"Yeap."

-x-

Accepting a date with you was Leon's first mistake. He really should have said no that rainy afternoon but couldn't(or didn't want to) due to the hope in your eyes, the rain falling around you making it even more ethereal than ever. For more than he didn't want to admit, Leon somewhat had a crush since the first time you two met. You were a scientist, someone who worked in the same line of the field as him, studying and helping in combat against Bioterrorism. You weren't just any scientist, though. No, you had been studying a cure for the new L-Virus for almost your whole academic career, making that your Ph.D. You were the maximum authority in the area, and if there was anyone who could help with the next outbreak and save humanity, that one would be you.

Leon knew you were just too perfect for him, but he still chose to continue anyway.

He continued after your first kiss, somewhat timid on both sides in front of your doorstep. And by the fourth date, when you invited Leon in, he should have said "no" and should have ended before it could hurt, but he chose to continue anyway. It took three months for you to move in. It was Leon's idea since your work schedule, you could barely see each other, so this would be easier anyway. He also had a bigger house. Your personal touches soon infiltrated his house, warming up his heart even more (he wasn't alone anymore, and it scared him) like the pictures of you two together on various occasions hanging on the walls and numerous, numerous paper works of studies splattered across the house. You were messy, messier than him, but you could always find yourself in the middle of your mess and his, not by organizing but by always finding what was being searched for.

It was one of the main reasons he admired you so much. Maybe you could be the light that he wanted.

And for a while, you were. Seeing you add the Kennedy to your last name filled Leon's heart with love, pride, and certainty that you were his. No one else's. And the first few years, as everyone says, were pure honeymoon bliss. For Leon, at least. Not that they weren't for you, they were, but you started noticing the minor signs as soon as you moved in: Leon never even drank that much during your dinner dates or even every single night. There was no reason to worry that much, he never got highly drunk, as the other alcoholic member of your family.

It was always "It is just to relax" or "Don't worry, it is not every day." He never got violent with you or hurt you, so it should be fine. Right?

-x-

Eric's eyes are attracted to the glass sound of Leon slamming against the bar. The ring is still on the table, and Leon doesn't seem wasted yet, but he never really does. Eric brings the bottle, his trained eyes scanning Leon when Creep by Radiohead starts playing in the bar. Leon seems to snicker, playing with his cup as Eric stands before him.

"You getting close to your limit. Are you driving?"

"Why? Is that your business?" Leon's words are coming out slurred, but he keeps his focus on Eric. Eric lifts his eyebrows as if that was the obvious answer. "I never caused an accident all my years coming here. Do I look like I am about to do something stupid now?"

Eric seems to ponder momentarily before turning the liquid on his cup. This would be Leon Kennedy's last cup, he thinks. Eric turns to leave and attend to other guests, but he stops in his tracks, looking at Leon as he says, louder than the music.

"We never know when any of you are about to do something stupid."

Leon watches as Eric leaves, an undisguisable expression on his face, his lips in a thin line, without replying back. 

-x-

You could have blamed how intense your studies were for not noticing Leon's decline, but even someone with half a brain could have noticed at this point. The fact he tried to hide from you after he was hungover. Was it your fault for not realizing Leon drank so much or the choice to not see how much he did before marrying him? Or was it just your crazy schedule that didn't let you stay home to be a good partner? With all your study and knowledge, you didn't see your husband falling apart right in front of your eyes.

It didn't matter, anyway. Finding Leon in front of your house the Wednesday morning before you went to work, his passed-out form at the entrance told you everything you needed to know: Leon had once again not slept in bed.

"We have to talk," You texted him when you got to work. You were late that morning, having to help bring a semi-conscious inside the house and leave him in your bed. He never really answered your texts, not that you expected. He tried to avoid having any type of conversation about it, running away in any way he could find.

When you got home, he was sitting by the couch, at least clean, the beard growing. Leon was lucky, you thought as you sat in front of him, with his beard never growing too much with a few spiky hairs. His eyes never meet yours as you start speaking, explaining you were worried about him, that the amount of alcohol was just too much. You apologize for not realizing that before and Leon's lips do a "Tsk." It is not your responsibility, Leon knew it. He was responsible for his own actions and didn't need your apology. He actually didn't know exactly what he needed, except something to silence the big void inside him. It is not your purpose to be everything to him, and Leon acknowledges that now.

"We can find someone to help you, I am sure, Leon."

"I am fine." He wasn't. He knew. He knew you knew. You gulped, trying to touch his arm, but Leon flinched away, too sick with himself with the look you were giving him. Is it pity? Is it disgust? Love?

"You can't be serious." You whisper. Oh, it is disappointment, then.

"I am. I am fine, okay?" A lie "-you have no reason to worry about." Another lie "There is nothing to worry about." Liar, liar, liar!

You gulped, looking at your own hands, your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth, then closed it, biting your lips. You don't have to know, something rotten inside Leon voiced. You didn't have to know the nights he passed awake after you fell asleep, the thought he couldn't shut his head, the horrors, the pain, the fact his hand seemed to play with the handle of his gun when he was drinking, oh no, you did not deserve to know none of that. You had much more to worry about than with a depressed and useless bastard like him, like saving humanity.

You didn't give up, of course, after that conversation. You became much more attentive, realizing Leon skipped meals (idiot), Leon never slept through the nights (idiot IDIOT!), and Leon left you in the middle of the night to sit in the darkness to do only the universe knows what. Cry? Wish for something better? You started calling therapists, doctors, and anyone who could help and make appointments for Leon (he never went to any of those). You watched helplessly as your Leon deteriorated, the bag under his eyes worse and worse. Was he losing weight? You told him to get a vacation from the D.S.O, but who was going to protect the world? Fuck the world, you answer, fuck zombies, fuck viruses, you are my world!

No matter how further you tried to bring him out or how hard you tried to pull him up, Leon just fell further and further into the darkness. Leon, on the other hand, was just upset and angry he ever dragged you into this mess he was.

-x-

"I know someday you'll have a beautiful life

I know you'll be a star in somebody else's sky, but why

Why, why can't it be, oh can't it be mine?"

Damn good old Pearl Jam, Leon thinks. The bar is almost empty at this point, another employee cleaning around the table. Eric gives one final look at the clock: five minutes to close. He sighs, walking toward Leon.

"We will be closing soon, Leon. Time for you to go."

Eric thinks he will argue against it, but Leon gets up, throwing a good amount of cash in the bar. Eric grabs it and asks, a little anxious, already expecting a loud no.

"Do you want me to call a cab?"

Leon doesn't answer, leaving the bar. He isn't driving, actually, no, that would make him arrive home faster. He doesn't care what happens to him until he gets there: maybe for a twisted game of destiny, he gets hit by a car, someone drunker than he is right now. Leon wishes it is him that gets killed, not some innocent bystander. For more drunk than Leon Kennedy is, the memories from earlier night never left his head. Your face never entirely leaves his mind, actually, even when he is highly inebriated: he is doomed no matter what he does, doomed to remember, sleep and dream about you, like a damn high schooler thinking about her crush.

-x-

"What is this?"

Your voice is shaky as you find Leon working on his motorcycle. Leon didn't look up as he asked back.

"What?"

"This, Leon!" Your voice sounded like you had been holding back tears. You sat for a good ten minutes, wondering how to confront Leon about this and if you have reached your limit.

He saw the paper and recognized his handwriting. Leon gets up, cleaning his hands as you shake in front of him, and Leon knew because he has known you for so long, you are holding back your tears, your lips quivering. You look exactly the picture of the six-year-old you. Your big eyes crying because your dad took your favorite teddy bear from you, your arms pleading for the toy back in your mom's arms. The same eyes, Leon realized. He wanted to feel nothing, but it is impossible when the topic is you, so he broke even more.

"Is this...is this what I think it is?"

"No. It is an apology letter. Much different."

"In case of leaving me? In case you are found dead?"

"Both."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. You turned away, but then you turned back, and Leon deep down knew this was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for since you said you said you loved him. This was it, and it was his fault, not yours, and he hoped you knew it.

"We can find you help. Please, Leon."

You were begging, like all the other times. Leon looked down at the note, the I'm sorry I love you written in shaky hand. He still remembered that night.

It had been a terrible night couple of months in the marriage. You were sleeping beside him, eyes closed, a peaceful expression. He could have woken up and asked for help, but he didn't want to worry you. The pressure in his chest was too much for him to bear, and he couldn't bear the pain that he knew so well (his oldest friend), which pierced his soul and irradiated all over his body, especially his heart. Leon couldn't breathe. He gave you one good look, trying to engrave your image on his head because that was the last thing he wanted to envision before he was done.

When he was far away from you, he grabbed his gun first but then the paper. You deserved that much, at least, he knew that. He wrote those words and sat down there in complete darkness, the gun heavy in his hands as he read it repeatedly. Leon Kennedy was no hero. He places the gun on the table, reading his "I am sorry I love you". Images of you sleeping, you moaning his name, whispering, screaming, laughing, mixing with the ones of you finding him the next morning, you screaming, terrified, holding his body, trying to bring him back to life. Leon gave one good deep breath and another, opening his eyes.

He puts the gun back into the drawer. Then he got up and decided to live another day, joining your sleeping form in bed.

He broke away from that memory, smiling in your direction, a sad smile that told you everything you needed to know. He saw your shoulder drop, and you rapidly turned around and started sobbing, muffling with your hand. Leon didn't need to watch you pack your stuff, didn't run to your shared bedroom, asking for you to stay. He had no right. He simply dressed and went to the bar.

Not because he didn't want to fight for you. Leon Kennedy just wasn't worth it for you. 

-x-

It is going home that Leon sheds his first tears. You haven't called him wondering where he is, messaged him, and it is better like that. Leon grabs his phone and types a message to see if you blocked him, but he doesn't send it. What right he had anyway? Leon continues walking home, one step after another.

It doesn't matter what he finds at home, Leon Kennedy is doomed anyway.

[eluxcastar]

As I opened my tumblr, just to check if there is new Arlecchino stuff to swallow... lo and behold, I saw your post with the Arlecchino simp tags. Shot me the moment I stepped into the door right there, hahaha! May I request an Arlecchino x reader, headcanon or anything you're comfortable coming up with. The reader is thousands of years old, who got disowned by the Tsaritsa because they declined their performance in greatness for someone else's benefit and saw no worth in her/them. Could be a sibling or a friend, the betrayal stung like a bee since she/they saw Tsaritsa as a mother figure or could literally be the mother (Got kunikuzushi'd in a way, minus the puppet part). So, here's the main part - How Arlecchino would handle that person, when they meet in hostile terms. An accidental encounter, had banters and fights and eventually found strange subtle solace from each other. Could be romantic, or just obsession on Arlecchino's part because we love deranged women pls step on me with your sharp heels - anyway, since Arlecchino is interpreted as someone who won't hesitant to betray the Fatui. On her own benefit, works with the reader to mess and interrupt Fatui operations. I won't include more or else you'd be dealing a whole thesis of it. Hahahah! Good day to you~!

One of Repetition

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: in a strange decision nobody quite understood but could not contest, you were dismissed from your position by the tsaritsa herself but allowed to live. you wander for some time, lost and confused, and most notably unable to escape the fatui even when you are no longer associated with them, which means an unwanted letter and an even more unwanted visit from the knave.

୨୧﹑genre :: kinda angsty

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader, reader has a pyro vision, arlecchino has a cryo delusion, reader uses a bow, capitano is not human this time, he's just a plot device too, their previous relationship is implied but ambiguous, implied age difference, reader is most often called by the title brighella, writing this spiralled me into insanity, possibly bad writing, not proofread 

୨୧﹑words :: 13.6k

hehe, I know that Arlecchino simps flock to me once they learn my requests are open. I have no idea why. maybe they're just especially desperate for food, but they linger, and I have a little collection of anons.

don't worry about how much it'll take me, I honestly enjoy writing longer works. anyway, I received a request similar to this some time ago (was it you? I have encountered that before) but haven't gotten around to completing it, so I'll be partly combining the two

here's the other request:

it's gonna provide some stuff for me to follow, and I remember exactly when I got it, so I wanted to include it for the dear anon who sent it

why brighella you may ask well that's because brighella has been described before as essentially Arlecchino's smarter and more vindictive brother and they compliment each other well. I think Arlecchino may also work for Brighella in some versions?? either way it felt right even though they're not really based off of the character brighella, they do share a few traits with him but not fully it's just a fun little parallel

I really did not expect this to be so long that it literally lagged the writing program I was using to save it and I have been staring at this for so long I literally have no gauge on the quality anymore just that it's variable because it took me so long someone send help

Her words left you exasperated, literally at a loss for words, and you struggled to comprehend the reason for it. There was nothing you could think of, no instance that struck you as prominent. Yet, somehow as one of the Tsaritsa's children, you had become what any parent might refer to simply as a disappointment, their failure—the problem child who never quite ironed out their issues. You had always been faithful to her, hopelessly devoted to the archon and her will. News such as this came out of nowhere and struck you like a hammer to the chest.

Two of her most mighty children were near and dear to her, and now the other had turned against you as he remains loyal to her. The Jester, who you once held in high regard, has turned against you. It is a bitter pill to swallow, for you must now sever ties with the one man you believed was truly deserving of serving the Tsaritsa. Your mother— your world— turns against you with him, before him, leading the way for him. 

In vain, you draw your bow to strike an arrow between his eyes, prove your strength and power as above your position, above him, but it means nothing. Your strike is blocked, and the Tsarita's Damselette Columbina moves to detain you. You believe she would not be strong enough, but you don't itch to fight ten other Harbingers. You understand that even you have a limit, and fighting what are supposed to be the strongest people in the country is not a part of that. Your honour is on the line, an honour which would tarnish not only Brighella's name but also have a ripple effect on your soldiers, men and women who fought for you and did not deserve a punishment that would result from their actions.

"Think carefully, Brighella." Columbina's warning is not lost on you, "You could remain as a hero or fight, and I will lure the creature you brought from the abyss and gut him before your eyes."

You do not want that. That creature is not yet loyal to the Tsaritsa but to you, and she will convince him he can save you. He will fall into her trap and die.

You bite your lip, trying to think of a way to escape and capture him so that you can run off somewhere. He does not deserve to die, but you can't think of anything. Not when you know how thorough these people are. There is not a will, really. There is only a has. He has fallen into her trap and is at the mercy of the Damselette. "What if I am to obey?" You finally ask the question you did not want to, surrendering in a way, though the bite has not left your words.

"I'll leave him be." Her answer is swift. She expected that you would eventually give in and only needed to wait for it to happen.

You shake your head, dissatisfied with only that as your compensation. "Not enough."

The smile on her face does not waver, thin and deceitful as ever, eyes hidden and closed, unseen behind the band of lace. "Mm. I can't bargain anything else." 

"Have him take my place." You lay your condition out firmly. There is only one to meet, and not a hard one at that. It would be easy to sway him into it, using whatever they plan to do to you as motivation. His loyalty and affection for you would make him accept it.

She ponders the situation and proposal momentarily, powerless to make the executive decision but undoubtedly keen on the thought of it all. "He believes that you are about to fall in battle to a foe and that he is going to save you."

You grit your teeth, knowing that this is her trap. Lure him to a place. It was not what you had expected, but it is no less the Damselette's style of acting. There is always a damsel, but perhaps she recognised that she would not suffice this time. She needed a better damsel for him to save; for that to work, it needed to be you. 

She needs your name, reputation, your relationship with your subordinate, melding together with her lies to make for a tale of tragedy with him as the hero.

The thought of him rushing to his death under the guise of saving you spikes your blood cold, chilling you. You're aware of her cruelty and always have been, but to experience it is different than hearing about it from her perspective. You are experiencing it from the perspective of the victim. 

His death was another factor to hold over your head, your penance, the anchor to force your compliance. Your blood boils with anger, but you cannot fight. Despite your feelings of anger and frustration, you know that lashing out will only cause further harm and pain.

There is only one thing you can do. You know you must. It's simply that you don't want to. 

But...you must. 

You must for him, that poor creature you tried to give a home to and who would never be in such a position if not for you and your ambition. 

"Then I will fall, and you will use the honour I built into him to persuade him." 

It was an honour meant to humanise him in a way, a being only able to imitate humanity. He had a mentor and something to fight for. Now you're imploring that it be used against him to burden him, but he will do well in your position.

Columbina smiles, that thin mocking smile like she knows the secrets of this world and more. "Would he really believe that?"

The helmet. You should use the helmet to your advantage. Your subordinate's first exposure to humanity, being you, a woman in a metal helmet, seemed to last. He used to think that was what humans looked like, and he admitted as much to you as he had asked you to remove it. Your impression left an indelible mark on him that he treasures to this day. Even if he was to see you in the aftermath, he would not uncover the lie.

"He has never seen my face. He would not recognise me."

Columbina accepts that readily, and her eyes open, pools of black and white visible through the cracks in the lace over her eyes. You've seen them before, inky black sclera and inhuman patterns decorating the borders of her irises, but you can't help the unsettled feeling that makes a home for itself in the pit of your stomach. 

-

By the evening, you are stripped of your honours, titles and coat and dumped to the curb like a bag of rubbish somebody left out. There is no more fight, no more bargaining, no more arguing. Everyone has the things they want, for the most part, so you are all satisfied enough to remain amicable with each other. Without a fight, you allow the Jester to remove the fur-lined overcoat despite the cold that rushes over you once it is gone and discarded in a heap of fur and fabric on the floor with none of its previous value. 

After that comes the slow, deliberate removal of every trinket that denoted you as you. From your delusion, several gifts to your very insignia, the only thing left of you is a lone pyro vision and the clothes on your back. You've never been more thankful to not wear a standard-issue uniform lest you be made to undress and hand that over too.

That was it. Your everything.

With each piece of regalia taken, a part of yourself disappeared until you were left an empty husk of a person, your entire reason for being for hundreds of years snatched out from under you and spat on.

The Harbingers were supposed to be the children of the Tsaritsa, and this was your grand disowning. A show of power and influence over her closest children and, by extension, the ability to bring pain to her less-- to her followers. It was foolish of you to ever think you were special in her eyes for having been by her side since before the Archon War. What did it matter when she left you amongst the rest of them? The years you spent since you had hobbled into her life so tiny and cute were now reduced to a few personal belongings and a set of words that shattered your world to sharp and dangerous pieces that would only hurt you in your haste to reassemble them and string your life back together.

When you were young, your cuteness may have been your best asset: a small body with endearing quirks, the inability to walk long distances without tumbling. In this state, you required her for everything because you would only find danger in the harsh Snezhnayan winters. To even acquire your own food was unthinkable, so you were sheltered and provided with ample treats that you could nibble from the palm of her hand if that were what you wished. Anything to keep you happy and content.

Like a little trinket, she cradled you for as many years as it took you to grow, and once you were at an age you no longer needed to be cradled, she made you her loyal companion, or so you had believed. You thought her affection for you was unwavering. She was the only mother you had ever known; she is the only mother you will remember for all of eternity.

Although it may have been an exaggeration, watching the sun's gradual descent below the horizon, you could almost believe eternity would quickly prove to be a very real concept. You watch the sky darken in silence for a time. You roam aimlessly around the city, your presence still striking unease in the people from the threatening demeanour you learned to conduct yourself with as a Harbinger, even without your official attire. The only remnant of your former self is a helmet you consistently wore during every public appearance. 

You can't help your wandering mind. Did your imitation of the Tsaritsa's actions make you weak? Attempting to nurture someone in the same manner she nurtured you? You are not a god, only the former child of one. Maybe you cannot care for him and maintain your objectivity. It's possible that he has become your Achilles' heel, as you were forewarned when the Tsaritsa less than subtly suggested you eliminate him.

You cannot live like this.

No matter how many suns you watched set, you would never come to terms with it living like this. The world you once knew, which revolved around a singular governing entity and individual, has disappeared without a trace. Without a central axis to anchor it in place, your world spirals chaotically out of control, with each passing second feeling more frenzied than the last. Your head is too muddled, your brain too overwhelmed by your emotions to think objectively of the faults in your time as a Harbinger, years of your life spent that way, burying your thoughts beneath a heavy weight of despair.

You almost want to call them wasted, but that would be wrong. Without the Tsaritsa, you might've— no, would've died during the Archon War. Perhaps another god would take you in, but it is unlikely that they would have exhibited the same level of compassion and generosity as the Tsaritsa. They would not have coddled you into comfort the way she did. Then again, what if that had been your downfall? Did she ever genuinely want you to stay? Based on this...perhaps you took her kindness for granted and overstayed your welcome.

You had no right to make demands of her in your final moments as her child, acting like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum. But can you be justified? Can the threat to your subordinate's life negate that? Surely a bit, but not entirely, not if her actions were in response to yours. 

Oh, even if you begged on your knees, she would not take you back now.

Why had you not done that before?

She must be disappointed that your attitude was born from her compassion, the epitome of her failures. You do not deserve to call her your mother. You took her generosity as a guarantee, thought yourself above her other children solely because you were her first, and believed you were her favourite for no reason besides your own arrogance.

You have failed the only being in Teyvat willing to show pity toward you.

-

The deepest heart of Snezhnayan forest welcomes you readily with open arms and the gnashing jaws of monsters starving for food. The forest seems to come alive with a vicious hunger for flesh. You have nothing but your vision and bow left to aid your defence. Your delusion is gone, and your subordinates are nowhere to be found to assist you. Despite this, marking your way with a trail of bodies is easy. It is just an inconvenience to have to always be on guard, but you are strangely used to it. 

The cold is numbing as the air hits your face, your fingers almost wholly without a sensation of touch and even a tingle in your toes.

You spent many missions that way, tensed and expecting violence at any moment, hardly allowing yourself to sleep, let alone relax. It feels like nothing has changed in that respect, but you know everything has. You cannot hear the large crackling bonfire or the pattering of footsteps in the snow as your subordinates come to join you, their laughter and chatter and their whispers to each other.

There is a stark silence that is deafening to your ears.

-

On the seventh night, you pass through a village on the outskirts of Snezhnaya, where you first catch wind of the news you had agreed on. The locals informed you that they had recently halted their work for half a day in your honour, believing that you had passed away. All of them are completely unaware that as they remark on the death of Brighella, they are speaking to the former Harbinger, who asks about the news under the guise of being a curious traveller. They also strongly advised you against venturing into the innermost heart of the nation. If anyone were to notice the helmet carefully secured around your waist, it might bring unwanted attention to your travels.

Though you were stripped of your insignia, you have your armour, which by some grace had been spared from confiscation. Though a seemingly trivial act of kindness, a sense of pride swelled within you as you gazed upon it. You are glad it is still yours. This armour had accompanied you through countless blood-soaked skirmishes, serving as a steadfast shield against all manner of danger. 

It is at that moment you decide to treat it as a trophy. Though there is no truth to it, you take responsibility for the Harbinger's slaying. Now, the armour which once protected you as a Harbinger will stand as a triumphant emblem of your hard-won victory over Brighella and the end of the Harbinger's tyrannical hold over the land. You know that you will keep it close, treasuring it always as a tangible reminder of the sacrifices you made to reach this pivotal moment. You slayed Brighella. You ended the Harbinger's tyranny.

If you didn't know better, you would think you were getting a little too far into it and starting to believe it yourself.

By the eleventh night, you find yourself situated in an inn, and the nights only carry on from there all the way up to the twenty-second night since your abrupt dismissal and, to the rest of the world, your supposed demise. Already, the whispers that once revolved around Brighella's defeat now shifted to speculations regarding her successor. The question was not necessarily who, but who could possibly? Her brutal reign as a Harbinger had instilled fear in the hearts of all who crossed her path and in the minds of the people, no one else could measure up to her sheer terror-inducing presence. Nobody knows what happened once they dared to fight Brighella until now. She was only the Fourth of the Tsaritsa's children, but she was the most combat-heavy, and no one wished to cross her, except for the rumoured contender for her throne, who was spoken of in hushed tones as nobody was eager to have their reverence for whoever was bold enough to reach the wrong ears.

Your achievements find their place amongst the rumours as people say that Brighella's killer stole her armour and wears it as her trophy.

Despite the slew of gossip that its patrons indulge in, you enjoy the quaintness of this bar made and run by travellers who use it like a pitstop to rest and recuperate. It is a home to them, along with adventurers and merchants who benefit from the atmosphere. The people are strangers, often reserved and eager to keep to themselves, but have immeasurable wealths of information that spill with a few drinks and a group of acquaintances who are, for only one night of pleasure and indulgence, their lifelong friends.

Among those friends buried in your own tankard of cheap ale, you laugh along with their jokes and entertain their questions like a test of your ability to lie and improvise in this tale you're making for yourself. If they have names, you don't know them. Brighella's death was a glorious battle but isolated to the hills where you were alone.

"Brighella was alone, and they were weakened by prior injury. I don't know what caused it." You mix a dash of the speculations in, downplaying your strength a tad as you're unwilling to expose too much of it. "I'm not one to miss an opportunity. When would it arise again?"

One of your new acquaintances scoffs, amused but no less aware of the dangers of doing such a thing. "And make an enemy of the Fatui?" He is a new graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya who's come to make his way through Snezhnaya for a job offer. Reminds you of someone else, minus the graduating.

"They will not miss her." You are quick to answer—too quick, arguably—as it draws a sliver of attention before dipping back under the radar as a product of your confidence. "Her 'head' makes too cute a decoration on my side to pass up stealing it."

"I wouldn't dare say such a thing. Fatuus comes here sometimes." They are the words of a Snezhnayan native raised to worship the Fatui, though he is somewhat disillusioned by their crimes and cruelty, as you've learned many are.

"Let them hear it!" Your laughter is boisterous and unabashed. "They'll see the armour anyway. They probably despise her like everyone else."

Another one of your new friends, a travelling merchant from Fontaine, interjects your ravings to add only a passing comment. It was as she had done all evening, her secrets locked up tight. "She did not make herself likeable."

"She was not meant to be likeable but a fearsome warrior." Again, the Snezhnayan man rebuttals the criticism against her as he had been doing all evening again.

"You don't have to get so far up her ass, Brighella's not gonna crawl out of her grave and thank you for it."

"You're so vulgar."

You plant your tankard firmly down on the table between the four of you, leaning over it to close the distance between you and the man. "I'm not meant to be likeable either."

Forget being only a little too into the role. You're revelling in the freedom of this new identity of yours.

Quick to disperse the tension, your graduate friend changes the topic without a hint of hesitance in his voice. "They left an underling people believe will take their place. It's a surprise to think Brighella had someone who followed them with such...devotion."

"It's strange, but not impossible." The merchant from Fontaine again, contributing nothing you weren't all already thinking.

"Could she have had a sentimental side?"

"Who cares if she had a sentimental side?"

"Upset the attention isn't on you anymore?"

Anger crosses your face, but you stifle it just as quickly as it appears. You wish their attention was off of you, really. The former you, maybe, but you nonetheless. You want to know about your subordinate. What happened to your second in command? You don't care to hear their speculation as to whether you were or were not particularly emotional with your underlings. You know the answers to all of those questions and more without their guessing games.

"Regardless of the reason, they say the underlying is much easier to swallow than she is, so maybe the position of Fourth Harbinger will change drastically if he takes it." 

"Would he really change its purpose if he was so loyal?"

"Unintentionally, perhaps."

God, these people are so dull. Just listening to them, you can tell they know nothing of the ways of the Fatui. Harbingers are not individual job positions with specific parameters. Each role is its own, and they are moulded by the person who assumes them like a character in a play, enchanting and unsettling in a horrific mix of theatrics and violence. It is what they stand for. One does not assume the role and become an actor with a script. They must improvise and act on a whim to the beat of the Tsaritsaʼs drum, their life no longer their own.

They are not whatever these ramblings and poor excuses for speculations make them out to be.

"Terribly misinformed, aren't they?" In your ear is the low voice of the Snezhnayan man holding in his laughter at the two as the scholar and the merchant go back and forth. 

You glance to your left, where he has leaned closer to you. "Repulsively," you respond curtly.

He has a faint glint of satisfaction in his eye as you seem to have confirmed something. "I thought you might've been from Snezhnaya." 

"So what if I am?"

"It was only an observation."

In the background, the main conversation continues, just as clumsy as it was before you had tuned it out in favour of drinking some more. "Does this mean he will also be named Brighella?"

Straightening back in his seat, the man swiftly interjected their back-and-forth responses to explain to them. "They receive a unique title upon their promotion, and nobody knows what it is until then." A simple enough concept to understand.

"In other words, anything but Brighella."

"It hasn't been long enough to know yet."

"It's strange. Nobody knows his name even now."

That would probably be because you never gave him one.

You considered it in the years you spent with him but couldn't find one you liked. His name was inhuman, not for your ears and not for your tongue, rendering it useless to you and every human who would hear it. The night you found him was spent crowded around a bonfire listing off every suggestion you and your subordinates could think of to no avail, as he only sat quietly by your side and said little about any of these choices, finding no familiarity in any of them. That's only natural, you suppose. 

You still haven't chosen a name for yourself that isn't Brighella, either. Your old one is well and truly forgotten, with the years eroding your memories. It had been centuries since you had been called anything else. Evidently, picking names is not your forte. 

"As far as I've heard, nobody knows what it is."

You find the mention of your subordinate has completely ruined your mood. You are grateful the creature is alive but worried the knowledge you're snooping around to find out when he will be promoted could land you in trouble. It's troubling enough to wonder if he has heard your tales through the grapevine about how you had supposedly 'killed' Brighella—his mistress and mentor—which he would not be happy about. Though you did not fear the creature before, now that you've personally trained him to understand human combat, you're not so sure you'd want to fight him. It would be a hassle. Unlike many, you do not fear the inhumanity of the Doctor or the stone wall that's called the Jester. Even the cunning Damselette struggles to do more than unsettle you, but you respect that creature's raw strength and understand that no matter what you do, it doesn't matter. You are confined to a human form, and he is not.

You lied when he said he wouldn't recognise you, however. You don't actually know if he would.

You don't know the extent to which his eyes can pick out the details in your appearance that aren't physical. Had he memorised your relative build? Your height? The way you carry yourself and your mannerisms? The thought unnerves you, but so does everything else about him.

"I'm turning in for the night." Without regard for the ongoing conversation, you declare your intentions and abruptly shut down whatever is being said at the time without much care for it. Whatever it is, it isn't important. Your unfinished drink is left behind as you make your way to your quarters.

In retrospect, you understand their eagerness to merely cover up the circumstances of your dismissal. For a Harbinger as feared as Brighella, it is easier to halt work for a mere half-day rather than attempt to contain the resulting fallout of admitting one of their own was inadequate while simultaneously preserving their tenuous hold on power.

-

Months pass before there is talk of the crowning of a new Harbinger, the people abuzz with the news and eager to know all they can, preferably before the aristocrats feel like sharing the night of the event. You considered attending the ceremony but ultimately decided against it. You may have the courage to do so, but you are certainly not stupid enough to wander into the waiting heart of the Fatui's clutches. You have waited patiently for this moment and can easily wait longer to hear the news.

No longer treating the inn like a home, you settled somewhere in the plains of another nation only a few weeks after you had first arrived there, sensing the barkeep was getting sick of you and the attention you were drawing to his otherwise obscure establishment. 

People settled there for a night, saw you were there, and word of mouth as they boasted of their encounters with you lured others who came to see you. While this influx of new customers certainly provided a boost to business, it also had the unintended consequence of driving away those who preferred to keep a low profile and valued its place as being for those 'in the know'. In other words, while you were great for a boom in business, you were bad for long-term business. 

The barkeep pushing the mora you tried to pay him to pay for another night was enough to send the message he wanted you gone, out by morning. The idea you were not to come back for quite some time was clear to you in the look he gave you.  

Liyue, on the other hand, is filled with mountains and teeming with visitors who have come to witness the highly anticipated Rite of Descension. Surprisingly, the influx of tourism only adds to the overall enjoyment of your experience. You would think that tourism would hinder your time there, but completely contrary it makes it better in a way. The locals are expecting an influx of outsiders to come to see the Geo Archon in person, and, as a result, they are not only willing to hire help for the time but also serve later at food stalls, and the place is livelier. 

People notice you less as you blend into a crowd of people who don't belong, and you slip under the radar.

You have no interest in the Rite of Descension nor the Geo Archon, and most of your time is spent outside the Harbour.

Wangshu Inn is still within Liyue but at a considerable distance from the Harbour, a mid-point between there and the border to Mondstadt. It is quieter, which is neither good nor bad, and home to some very understanding owners who ask so few questions it almost alarms you. Nonetheless, you crave respite from the chaos and theatrics you were revelling in as a reprieve from the stress you were under, wondering how you would live your life now. At one point, you relished being hailed as a hero by many, but it soon became overwhelming, and you found yourself trapped in the clutches of Brighella once again.

Whether by design or happenstance, your identity had begun to consume your life again, and if you wanted to have any hope of living outside of Brighella, then that had to stop. And so, you sought out a place to lay down your burdens and unwind, leading you to where you are now.

You arrive your old self, and despite clinging to it since your travels had begun, you remove every piece of your armour for what you intend to be a long time and leave it all neatly arranged for when you eventually return to it. You feel compelled to finally don the fresh outfit you acquired during your journey through Fontaine. Admittedly floor-length dresses and extravagance are not your style after years of being cooped up in a heavy suit of armour, but there's something alluring about trying out a new look, especially when it involves pants that don't weigh more than a third of your body weight. Besides, you always kind of liked them anyway, just...not yet. Now seems like a good time to dip your toes in.

You almost don't recognise yourself when you finally see yourself in the mirror. Perhaps you got too used to seeing a metal helmet staring back at you and a suit of armour for a body, but the fresh air against your skin and lighter clothes feels...good. 

For the first time in a while, you feel free.

The new outfit is making you giddy, too giddy for your taste. You don't recall having such an innate pep in your step, only one that felt deserved, but this different. While you typically associate a sense of satisfaction with having earned it through hard work or perseverance, this newfound exuberance seems to come from just existing in your new clothes. You are happy just because even if there is nothing to feel happy about. It's as if the simple act of wearing them has given you a boost, despite not having accomplished anything significant. It doesn't even seem like you made much progress toward becoming yourself when you lay it all out on paper. You bought clothes and wore them, that's it. 

Something about it feels so much like yourself. The freedom to stray from what you thought you were until now, something you hadn't dared to try before.

One thing you like about Wangshu Inn is how it serves even people who aren't staying there. The ground floor overlooking the water is designated as almost a kind of restaurant. People filter in and out to be served, stay for lunch, meet with friends, and take breaks from their missions. It is meant as a place for travelling merchants, but you find that is not all its patrons see in it.

You are not nearly as sociable as you were in the Snezhnayan bar you were at, but this seems more manageable anyway.

"If you've come looking for work, the Adventurer's Guild may have a place for you." A suggestion from a merchant who struck up an idle conversation with you for some reason sticks with you. You can't say why, but you imagine a product of boredom.

"They accept anyone?" Your surprise is evident in your tone, as you thought they might have tighter restrictions.

Just as in disbelief fact as you are, he shrugs, "As long as you've got enough power to back yourself, a friend of mine said they'll accept anyone."

That sounds far too good to be true, at least for your taste. "And it doesn't matter where you come from or where you go?"

"Adventurers are known to get restless in one place for too long."

"I see, and you can just go up a--"

"Excuse me, miss." You don't remember hearing that voice, but you recognise the attire when you turn your head just enough to be met with the sight of a cicin mage standing before you impatiently awaiting your attention. The top half of her face is concealed, as is customary, but there's no mistaking the unkind smile that tugs at the corners of her lips as you meet her gaze.

Has she come for retribution? 

Despite your fears of having to make a mess, the woman reveals a letter that is sealed with wax and extends it towards you, expecting you to receive it sooner rather than later as she waves it slightly as a form of incentive. "From the Damselette," she adds.

"What could the Damselette want with me?"

"Perhaps a warning." The words slip by, quiet but noticeable, immediately catching your attention. You raise an eyebrow at her. She's slowly unveiling her contempt at your presence; you're very aware of that fact. You are not familiar with her. It is unlikely that she ever worked under your command. However, it is possible that she might've held a certain level of regard, which has since turned to hostility as rumours of her arrogant killer run rampant. "I don't know. I'm not privy to those things."

Your eyes glance over her from head to toe in thought, scrutinising her for any indication of where her animosity came from. However, there is nothing that gives away her motives. You break your gaze away from her and glance down at the letter in your hand. "I suggest you get a better hold of your tongue. They don't like it when you're rude to their guests."

Her smile does not waver. "You are not a guest." She states that fact with glaringly false politeness.

"Everyone who recieves correspondence from a Harbinger is a guest."

You suppose you can't fault her disdain when all is said and done.

From somewhere tucked away in her clothing, she pulls what appears to be a knife from your peripheral vision and points it at you, but you look up to find it is only a blunt letter opener balanced in the palm of her hand, waiting to be picked up.

"I was ordered to stay until you had read the letter to deliver her your response."

Just as she believes you are a murderer, the letter addresses you as such. Your lies have reached her ears. Moreover, she is playing along with them.

You expected threats and unfair deals, but it is only an update on what is happening regarding your position, the reassurance that they have not violated the terms of the agreement made. A half-hearted apology and an excuse. Preparations set them back, supposedly.

While you imagine preparing not only a funeral but a ceremony to announce the next Harbinger does take time, it would not take this much time with how prepared they were to kill you off in the first place. It was a planned betrayal.

It just looks better if they don't appear so prepared.

For whatever reason, perhaps your consolation prize for enduring her shameless lies, she shares a secret with you. As you casually scan the letter with little care for its contents, your attention is immediately drawn to the heart of the matter. It's the very subject on everyone's minds and all that anyone speaks of. 

Il Capitano. His name is Il Capitano.

Personally, you would not have picked it, but that does not mean that you hate the name. Quite the opposite, in fact, as you have to admit that when you envision the name paired with his face, it suits him well. She ends the letter promising that she will 'take good care of him', though you know that your respective ideas of those words do not align or even coexist in the same universe. There is an unmistakable discrepancy between her intentions and your own, and you don't like it.

"Come back to us, Brighella. You can watch everything you wanted in person."

-

You won't go back. It's a trap.

Irritated, you find yourself back in the heart of the country where nobody lurks, haphazard in the way you fire your arrows at every creature that dares to disturb your sense of peace. It's hard to focus, and you don't bother trying. Liyue is not the same as Snezhnaya, with open plains broken up by rocky mountains. The creatures are mostly the same, and all die the same, hilichurls and geovishaps running rampant and shot down into piles of meat and rocks.

It doesn't matter how loudly you shout, as there's nobody around to hear it. You could scream, cry, and throw a tantrum all you want, and it won't matter. Even if you throw yourself at the ground and bang your head into the dirt, nobody will see it.

This is all pointless. You will never escape. It will never matter how far you roam or how fast you run.

Why did you think you could? Had your brain melted from your head?

There is no other side. There is no salvation. You are owned from the day you're brought in until the day you die, but why? Why did they want to bring you back to Snezhnaya? What was the point? You are out of the way now, hardly causing trouble for them. Despite this, everything seems to be running smoothly, even with the liberties you have taken in your new role. Was that it? The reason they wanted you to see?

It must be. There is no other reason to risk exposing the lie otherwise. Unless it was to tarnish the Fatui's reputation.

You refuse to believe it is something as innocent as wanting to see your request honoured. Nothing is innocent within the Fatui, not an action without hidden intentions or motives. Centuries of watching their misdeeds from the inside, which always go unpunished and unchallenged by anyone except the powerless commoners, have taught you that there is always an ulterior motive lurking behind their actions.

Not to mention it came from Columbina.

You must've spent three days out there before finally returning to Wangshu Inn, dirtied by the elements and craving something to eat, like a child's insatiable desire for sweets. The dead of night provides a cover for you to take a dip in the water beside the inn in an attempt to rinse the dirt and sweat off of you. It dawns on you that your new clothes would've been ruined if you hadn't had the foresight to change before venturing out again. In that moment, thoughts of the Fatui and the memories evoked by your armour flooded your mind, and you didn't want the same thing to happen to the clothes that had made you so happy from the moment you put them on.

It feels childish how you cling to these things.

A part of you just can't help it, torn between holding onto the memories that define who you believe yourself to be and starting anew with a clean slate. Neither can win. One is stuck on the past and what little you have of it, and the other wants to abandon all of that and start completely fresh.

The half-compromise you are trying desperately to make work by accepting that what's gone is gone while keeping your armour close to your heart is obviously not working. The thought of discarding it pains you too much to actually do it, plagued by the urge to melt it down to scrap metal while also being overwhelmed by the knowledge you will regret doing that as soon as you see the mess that would be left of it.

Your new clothes make you happy, so you need more new things to make you even happier, right? If new means you glean happiness, then more new is what will help you move past all of this deliberation in your head.

Clothes were a given, and...maybe a haircut? Yeah. You should try cutting your hair and decide on a name for yourself that isn't Brighella. Something you want, a name you like, that you can look at yourself and see that person reflected in a mirror. The person you think you are supposed to be when you look past the expectation that has been instilled in you.

That merchant you spoke to mentioned the Adventurer's Guild might have a place for you. What if you should be helping people instead of hurting them? What if you only did that to please the Tsaritsa?

In the background of your thoughts, you walk yourself back to your room at the Wangshu Inn and collapse onto your bed, thinking. Though you are exhausted, you cannot bring yourself to sleep for one reason or another. You make excuses for yourself just to ignore the glaring root of the problem you know is there but refuse to acknowledge. The problem isn't really how hot or cold the room is or the texture of your blankets and how much you dislike the humidity in the air. Something else entirely is keeping you from rest.

Your hair isn't the problem either, or your clothes. Even your lack of a proper name really doesn't bother you. They're only the illusion of change you're using to cover up how truly lost you have become now that you have to think for yourself.

How long have you been alive now? Centuries at least. You can't even live independently after that long? No. No, you can't.

You are so lonely, you are lost, you are confused. You need company, you need guidance, and you need purpose. How are you supposed to live? Where is the person who will tell you what to do every day? 

You have to make that choice yourself? You can't do that. You've never done that. 

The thought of even something so basic scaring you so severely brings you to a weakness you never realised you even possessed. Fear surges through the very depths of your being, an unfamiliar sensation that you find unsettling. You don't like it, but it's an impossible feeling to push down and ignore. Over the years, you had quietly collected your shortcomings into a neat little jar and pushed it aside, out of sight, away from your conscious thought, as if pretending you were invincible. 

What would you have done if you had gotten to Capitano? Make him decide?

He can't. He's not human. He doesn't know enough to decide. You've only made him just like you, a fearsome man until he's abandoned and vulnerable like you have become, and then he'll be pathetic and helpless too.

Nothing came out of any of your efforts, did it? It couldn't have possibly. Even with every attempt you made, it was always doomed to fail.

-

It turns out that the Adventurer's Guild was more than happy to take you in, in a way. They put you right to work. It helps to take your mind off of things if nothing else. It's mindless work, able to tune out everything in your brain and run on auto-pilot. You take to this life so well it scares you, completing your tasks with so little trouble you wonder how this isn't more popular, even if some are arguably unnecessary. If only you were good at proper cooking, you might get rich from the tens of requests for certain dishes. 

You're irresistibly drawn to the combat, right back to the heat of battle where you feel truly alive. In all you've had to question, your love for the thrill of fighting has never been up for debate. You're unsure whether it's the adrenaline or something else, but you don't care to know, either. You don't concern yourself with such questions. It's not important to you why, so long as you find comfort in it. It's the one thing you cannot be robbed of. 

A hard day's work is always rewarding.

"Make sure you be careful today." A fellow adventurer is quick to catch you before you can wander off for your next quest, smiling and unbothered despite his words. You've never met him, but he speaks as if you have.

Something about the bond of adventurers is so reminiscent of the Fatui.

You turn back to place your full attention on him rather than the grilled tiger fish you had acquired out of curiosity about the taste. "Why's that?" You're not too bothered, expecting him to tell you that it's dangerous out there, the Abyss Order existing and all.

"The Fatui are restless."

His words catch you off-guard, light in tone as they are. In outward appearances, he's mostly unbothered, while the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You try to grasp your bearings just enough to speak. "They don't do that for fun." Something about it is just as shaky as you expected, unable to fully mask it, but you figure he'll blame it on nerves.

"Harbinger, apparently." He doesn't draw attention to your demeanour, so neither do you.

"Which one?"

"Dunno."

It's probably Columbina. Maybe you pissed her off when you shot the messenger. Yeah, she probably wouldn't appreciate that. When you did it in a fit of anger, you expected her to find it funny after coming to your senses.

"Hey. Something wrong?"

You startle as you realise he had been speaking that whole time, and you just weren't listening.

"Sorry?"

"I said it's weird that they'd be up and about so soon after the newest was officially promoted."

You deadpan a little, realising it wasn't something of actual value, just a misconception that the greatest powers that be in Snezhnaya aren't spiteful enough to hate each other just as much as they hate everyone else. "Not really. They're not particularly sentimental."

"They don't even care to go out drinking for their own?"

"They hardly know how to tolerate each other." You realise your slip of the tongue too late, seeming too familiar. That's a problem. He barely draws attention to it, only making a strange face.

"Well, whatever the reason, work doesn't stop for them."

In silence, you agree and continue your day as if you really believe that.

-

As you wrap up your work for the day, you feel a sense of pleasant exhaustion wash over you. It struck you as strange that nobody was out in the wild, even the usual fatuus you avoid. Something about it was uniquely eerie. It dawns on you why he came to the conclusion that the Fatui were 'restless'. They must have retreated into the city to prepare for the impending arrival of the Harbinger destined to disrupt the small peace you had found. The sudden influx of fatuus in Liyue would make it seem like they are increasing in numbers nationwide when in reality, they are just moving.

You're not going to let it bother you for now.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you have promised yourself that repeatedly and have found it to be a lie, but you mean it this time. You're familiar enough with the workings of the Fatui to know that they don't like to leave sectors alone for too long, and Liyue had spent a fair time before your dismissal unchecked. 

Even at night, you remain unbothered when you wander Liyue for a time, looking for something to do and notice what he was talking about.

Many of them are fussing more than usual, meaning that chances are it's too late to inhibit the process of this Harbinger arriving. You could turn tail and run, scurry off to the other side of Teyvat and settle in Fontaine or even Natlan, but you like it here.

You sit in the heart of Liyue, listening to a speaker tell his stories. You know you shouldn't linger, but you tell yourself you can for just a little while longer. It reminds you of the past, filled with Liyue legends you remember hearing about as news at the time they took place. The fact these tales are now old enough to be suitable for a speaker's recitation as 'legends' is a grim reminder that maybe you're older than you realised. Your early life is now from the time of legends. You can push that feeling aside to focus on the nostalgia of hearing these stories.

Beside you, you hear the chair move but don't budge from looking to see who it is, assuming that all other chairs are taken or that it's an adventurer who got curious, possibly even the man you had spoken to earlier about all of the Fatui--

“Reminiscing, Brighella?”

You recognise both that voice and that name and go stiff, eyes finding her before your head can even turn in her direction.

In front of you—or rather, across from you—the Knave sits upon the other chair at your table as if she was always supposed to be there, seemingly at ease, but you know better than to assume her guard is down. Arlecchino has always had an icy composure, though she can be hot-headed at times and can lose her temper when provoked. It's not surprising that she was able to track you down, even without knowing what your face looks like.

She turns to you leisurely, unhurried. "I came to look for you since you missed the ceremony." It sounds like a greeting the way she speaks those words. You suppose it is one, really.

Ah, maybe you should've been worried after all.

You try to play off your emotions as if you're completely unfazed by her presence. It's the only way to maintain some semblance of control. "Did Columbina not like my gift?"

"Oh, she rather enjoyed it." Arlecchino maintains a similar composure, knowing approaching you in public means employing subtlety as much as it means she's less likely to be attacked. "She felt it was just the kind of gift you would give."

"I try my best not to disappoint." Your response is less enthusiastic than you might like, a hint of nervousness infesting your brain and refusing to budge.

Despite this, she doesn't notice, not outwardly. Really, that means nothing, as you are very aware of how good her poker face is. "Il Capitano hasn't stopped speaking about how much he'd like to kill you. You don't want to disappoint, do you?" When you were waiting for her to speak, those weren't the words you expected to hear, but somehow you're not fully surprised either.

"I see, so my lies reached even his ears." 

You thought as much.

"I think you'll be quite surprised when you see him." Her reply is so cocky that you almost scoff at her.

"Who said I would be seeing him?" You try to match the audacity she had to make such a remark.

She turns to you rather casually for the words she speaks, an odd tone you can't quite place, lacing her words half like mockery. "You miss him, don't you?"

It's that question that makes you snort and turn away as you realise that her negotiation and persuasion skills are abysmal for such a cunning and intelligent woman. "Not enough to become foolish enough to trust someone whose title denotes them as dishonest and untrustworthy." You always wondered about that, really. "A name like 'the Knave' really isn't subtle."

"Funny." She doesn't laugh or even smile. "I believe yours was something close to 'bother'."

You lean back in your chair, testing it slightly as you push the front legs off the floor as a means of entertaining yourself through this frankly dull conversation. "Then I suppose we're both living up to our names."

She remains silent for several seconds, pondering her next words. You can see her fingers rub against the wood of the chair as a distraction. 

"The others told me it was pointless to try to bring you back."

"They were right."

"You won't come back for any reason?"

"I know a trap when I see one."

"Of course."

Silence, again. You don't care to break it, either. You came to hear the stories, and you really would like to continue that rather than listening to her voice, but she's not making it easy.

"Is that all now?" Your voice shows your impatience more than you might like, but you realise it may work in your favour if she senses she's annoying you.

For the first time in a while, she smiles faintly to herself. "For now. Your answer is abundantly clear." She appears to concede, if only for a little while

You let the chair land back on all of its legs and lean your elbow on the table. 

"Are you going to get out of that chair?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

"It's comfortable."

The urge to roll your eyes brims in your mind, but you stop yourself. You don't want to give the Knave the satisfaction of knowing something she is already well aware of. Besides that, you don't want her to know that you really don't want her here in any capacity. Arlecchino's presence is never a good thing.

You let out a tentative breath as you consider your next words quite carefully. The wrong thing might have Arlecchino never leaving you, and the right one might drive her back to Snezhnaya if you're lucky. You shift your whole body to face her. "You just arrived from Snezhnaya, I take it. What do you want to eat?"

She eyes you suspiciously, scrutinising you for any sign of trying to fool her into consuming poison or making herself sick. "You're feeding me now?"

You pretend you don't notice her intensity. "Well, you're not leaving. It would look strange for me to order food for myself."

Again she smiles to herself, a light mockery that's cautious and testing, easing herself into accepting your offer. "I wasn't aware you cared so much."

"You could starve if you'd prefer." You turn away as you speak and don't look back, shifting yourself back in your seat to be front-facing.

There's a quietness between the two of you, both waiting for the answer to your proposal. You have an inkling Arlecchino will accept, but you don't know with her. She never seemed especially pleased by the times the Jester would convene you all over meals and such, ending up in fights and bickering. She never fought with you, however, so perhaps it's different. 

"Order whatever you like."

You find yourself looking intently at a list of the options on the menu. It's quite a lengthy list. "Mm..." Even though it's just a false invitation and you're doing it to be courteous, you can't say you aren't enjoying the thought of picking out a meal and sharing it with her. Despite your removal from the Fatui's affairs for some time, you'd be lying if you thought you weren't at least a little curious. "Jade Parcels...and maybe Jade Fruit Soup? But Dragon Beard Noodles sound good too..."

Becoming slightly irritated by your indecision, Arlecchino looks across the table to where you are sitting deep in thought. "Is it that complicated of a decision?"

You spare her only a glance before returning to looking for something she would enjoy. "I have to pick something you'll like, don't I?"

Soup is more challenging to share than noodles are.

With that, your decision is made, and you settle. Despite yourself, you are somewhat restless in thought. Arlecchino's lack of contribution is slightly frustrating, but it sounds like she'd be content with anything. You're not sure if your choice is the correct one, but you believe you picked something to the best of your abilities that is easy, even to a foreign tongue. As far as you know, Arlecchino is from Fontaine. You've never eaten like this with Arlecchino to know her tastes or dietary restrictions.

"Jade Parcels and Dragon Beard Noodles. Sound good?"

"It'll do."

"Good. I'll go order it, then."

Arlecchino must be surprised that you returned, as she doesn't seem too thrilled. She never really does, but there was a disappointed glint in her eye right up until you walked in front of her to get to your chair. 

It continues until you get the food, and Arlecchino finally stares at it with an overwhelming sense of dread, left with an intense feeling of apprehension regarding whether. You appear not to hesitate, though this arrangement isn't quite what she had expected. Arlecchino had thought you would order enough dishes that you wouldn't have to share, but you seemed to understand it in a way that meant you would be eating from the same bowl.

You notice her hesitation almost immediately, yet your vexation with her arrival makes you unwilling to acknowledge that you know the reason, a deliberate miscommunication on your part. "Mm. I didn't think this through." Your words seem to make her perk up as if you will free her from her awkwardness by asking for another bowl. "You probably aren't used to using chopsticks, are you? Not many dishes that need those back home."

She knows you're toying with her, that sweet smile from across the table hardly hiding your true intentions. Arlecchino waits, watching to see what you will do next, as she looks back at you with a scowl. 

Her eyes do not leave you as you wordlessly collect a Jade Parcel and present it to her like you are patronising her with this action. Your feigned kindness, this supposed benevolence of you offering to feed her like a child, no doubt hoping she'll back down and excuse herself completely. 

She won't let you do that and have the satisfaction of seeing her back down. She won't allow you to break her facade of acceptance.

Though you circle the food in front of her slowly, only a motion with your fingers trying to convince her or make her as uncomfortable as possible, Arlecchino continues to stare for several more moments. Eventually, she musters the courage to relinquish some of her pride.

Arlecchino leans in slightly, just enough to open her mouth and take a bite from the food you hold out for her. Despite the circumstances that led to this moment, she can't help but acknowledge your good taste. Arlecchino couldn't possibly eat another bite that way, though. Not being fed by the woman who is now her adversary just to avoid her 'winning' in the situation, but admitting she is willing to let you get under her skin is not an option either.

She must treat this situation differently, as if you are merely feeding her out of obligation to her rather than because you have your own motives.

It hardly stops her from enjoying her portion of the meal from the chopsticks you share with her. At some point, it finally occurs to her that you only hold one pair, leaving her set untouched despite feeding her. You had been feeding her with the same set you ate with the entire time, and while you were well aware of that, it hardly seemed to alarm you as much as it alarmed her.

Your biggest disappointment was being unable to get rid of her that whole time, watching her readily accept whatever you tried to use against her. Watching a Harbinger practically bow their head and obey you, however, fuels your consciousness. It's like eye candy to think back and realise you did that.

It's another one of your quiet defiances against the Tsaritsa. You wonder how far you can take it.

As you stand from your seat, you stretch your arms above your head until you hear a faint pop as all the tension in your back relaxes. "I don't imagine you'll be leaving anytime soon."

"No. I have plenty of business outside of you." It's not a lie. She's got a lot to do in Liyue even without your presence, but you're a priority. 

You lean back over your chair, a mischievous little look on your face. "Do tell."

"You know that I can't do that." She's not amused by the attempt, either.

You straighten back to your usual height and brush it off in moments. "Unfun. I thought your loyalty to the Tsaritsa could be won over easily." 

She scowls. "Not by you."

"I see. You have standards after all."

She chooses to ignore your comment. Up until now, you have had quick-fire conversations, sometimes interrupted by a silence that drags on. This is no exception.

"Capitano truly believes you are dead." Arlecchino realises when she has caught your attention, and that time is now. She notices how your head tilts towards her ever so slightly, and your head raises. "For a time, he grieved, but it didn't last long. He has become fixated on the idea of revenge ever since he heard that Brighella's killer was running around boasting about their achievements with the authentic armour to support their claims."

Suddenly it makes some small amount of sense in your mind why they would want you to come back exactly. Capitano won't stay put forever. If he's stuck on vengeance, he won't rest until he exacts it. You weren't thinking about how much your stories would piss him off at the time.

When you spend an extended period of time silent and seemingly disinclined to answer, Arlecchino continues. "I want to show you to him."

You have subjected him to human emotions he's not equipped to deal with. Rightfully, you feel horrible like more of your failures are being wrenched from your corner and dumped out into the open for all to see. It doesn't matter that you're in Liyue, where nobody knows the two of you. You don't want them to see either. 

"He wouldn't want to see me." You don't think she really wanted to hear those words when you finally speak. Her expression gives it away. "He should enjoy his position without my interference. I've ruined his life enough."

"You've given him power and status, he should be grateful for that--"

"No. He shouldn't." You don't even wait for her to finish. She hasn't even realised it yet. Not the way you've been forced to. That power is a detriment, not a blessing. Why should he want that? "I thought that way as well, but now I…I don't think my choice was the correct one."

Arlecchino was not expecting to evoke your vulnerability, shallow as it may be for now. "What choice?"

"To bring him back from the abyss." 

From a purely objective perspective, taking in Capitano was the cause of everything. Arlecchino presumably thinks of it in the way you don't want her to, that you regret taking him in because he ultimately ruined everything for you, causing your world to fall apart. You don't. You wish you hadn't dragged him down with you.

Now Capitano still dealing with the consequences of your choices. He was perfectly satisfied where he was and would've remained that way had he not been caught up in your plans. It was your arrogance that made you think Capitano would prefer to come with you. At no point in your first interaction had he indicated he was displeased in his circumstances, only hostile because humans were so close to him. It is an understandable thing, considering that humans were a foreign concept to him and potentially posed a threat.

"Because he overtook you?" 

There it is.

Despite her words, she appears to have dropped her irritated expression and the impatience in her words and actions. You are finally speaking, and she won't lose that opportunity to an avoidable break in her temper.

"No. No, nothing like that." You try to find the words to explain it, even knowing she likely wouldn't understand it in her current position. You doubt she could ever comprehend it with how she treats her loyalty. "It's more like… Off the record, though I was cherished for many years, even I eventually became disposable. I have left Capitano in the hands of the person who caused that, and now I have damned him to the same fate."

Arlecchino is silent in thought, mulling over your words with great care. The tone of the conversation shifted right under your noses, and with it, so did her demeanour. She became relaxed in a way, though you imagine no less guarded than she always is. "I fail to see how your performance declined. In fact, you are more necessary now than you have ever been."

"I see." In your head, that means she's on your side to a degree. "So you believe that my termination was a mistake?"

"A grave error at best." Her words only confirm the way you thought of it. "Even if you had declined in performance, the people have begun to question more than ever, which sabotages the political landscape of Snezhnaya for those who care about it, the same people who stood idly by while you were ousted. Those who oppose the Fatui are pushing the notion that we must be weaker than we appear, because if even Brighella could die, then what does that say for the rest of us."

Though you wish you could say that concept was inconceivable, the idea that those fighting for reform would seize upon your demise as a means to spur change. It's not shocking that everyone else has been called into question, either. Though it is easy to push the role of frontrunner onto the Director, his duty is mainly administrative, as is the case with many high-ranking positions. His wrath is quick and brutal, and sparse. Dottore is too busy with his disgusting hobbies, and Columbina must remain in the light as a figure they can cling to. That leaves the position of Fourth as the one who is publicly the most violent and ruthless, which used to fall to you.

"I see. Is that why they want me to come back?" You don't expect an honest answer as you ask that question, half anticipating another play at your heartstrings.

"No." 

Frustratingly, she doesn't elaborate.

"I'll only agree to return if Capitano is free to do as he wishes."

She scoffs, somewhat returning to her brash attitude. "Even if I could make that decision, we're well past the point where that's a possibility."

You know that she's correct in that.

Still, you can't stop the sight you let out. You knew the request was wonderful in theory but inconceivable in practice, but asking never hurt anyone. "Then what do you want from me? I take it that though I'm only a stagehand, my part in the theatre is not yet over."

"Is that how you see it?"

"Answer my question."

"Execution."

You pause at her answer.

"Execution?"

You're not even sure you heard her correctly. The execution of who? Brighella has already been put to death, and Capitano has barely warmed his seat among the Harbingers. Nobody left in this is worth killing, given the precarious nature of the Fatui's support in the aftermath of Brighella's murder. It was already unstable, and now things are just worse, with no better word to describe.

You doubt they made the decision lightly.

"Execution. Your execution for the murder of Brighella and crimes against the state."

Your nerves instantly spike again, and your guard is higher than ever. At any moment, you could need to draw your bow and fight her because even though you're unsure of how to treat this life, you're not ready to give it up. No foe has scared you before, and neither will the prospect of rebuilding from square one.

"I see, so you've come to extradite me."

"You read my intentions horribly. I'm impressed you managed to make it so far like that."

You furrow your brows in annoyance. "Then what?"

"The values of the Fatui no longer align with mine." The assertion draws your attention more than anything else. You have always been aware that she is unconcerned with the ideas of loyalty and honour, which you can't fault her for. Abiding by the code of honour the Tsaritsa instilled in you left you here.

You may be completely wrong, but she was so vague and doesn't seem to be waiting to say anything else. "Is this your way of telling me you're deserting the Fatui?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"You so happen to be someone I like." 

You're startled by that as well. As far as you were aware, the decision to do nothing in the face of your dismissal was unanimous. You thought Capitano was your only remaining ally. Even if she's the lowest ranking, that is not indicative of power in an objective sense but of authority. In a sense, she is the new 'you' of the Harbingers, as she always was to a degree. 

Blame for the disorder is shifting in your absence to her.

"Because I cleaned the messes you now manage?"

"Because you aren't cowardly and fixated on politics but inhibited by them. You are a model of what is right." You can't say you follow what she's saying but allow her to continue. "Pulcinella and even Pierro refuse to travel abroad, always making excuses to shirk their jobs when faced with danger in order to comfortably remain in luxury. From the day I joined, you stood out to me in that way."

You raise an eyebrow at her, unimpressed by whatever she's trying to do right now. "Are you trying to flatter me into coming back?"

"I was telling the truth." She doesn't look impressed, either.

You feel a little embarrassed by that, suddenly feeling as though you really had responded quite rudely to an innocent statement. "Hearing a person idolise me is strange," you admit.

"It's not idolising." Her correction is sharp.

"Sounded close enough."

Silence again, as with the pauses scattered around the rest of your conversation. You aren't catapulting the topic into something of great interest or progressing, and neither is Arlecchino. Her lips press into a thin line trying to hide any cracks and stifle any emotion that slips through.

"I admire you."

You did not realise such a thing was possible, really.

"I thought you may have remembered the times we shared and think fondly of it, but perhaps not. We fought once- maybe twice- before. We drank together. Nothing else."

To end that statement with 'nothing else' as if to reduce every conversation, interaction, hour and experience to ashes is thoughtless at best. You didn't remember either instance in which Arlecchino believes you fought and still don't, though you try to now that you have come to find it apparently happened. If it did, the chances of you actually remembering is slim to none with how your memory is. It's not that you forget things quickly, but that minor events slip through the cracks in your frankly chock-full memory.

"I don't remember them, I'm sorry."

"I didn't expect you to."

Despite her words, there is a faint bittersweetness to it, the realisation you are insignificant to the person you aspire toward being like. Somewhere, even if she is aware it was always not only a possibility but highly likely, it still feels like a letdown, the fragile hope you might remember her strength. You only remember her drunken and all too enamoured by you to think properly. It is foolish of her to feel that way because you have battled many foes, and expecting you to remember all of them, let alone your underling, is unreasonable.

"You still haven't answered my question." Changing the topic, you take the opportunity to try to direct her back to what you asked in the first place. "Why are you really here?"

"The Jester gave me permission to pursue you, believing I would attempt to convince you to return to Snezhnaya after Columbina failed." As Arlecchino begins to explain, it slowly begins to make sense as the pieces fall neatly into place. "However, I have no interest in appeasing the wants of dignitaries who care only for their comfort."

You don't want that either. It's just a repeat of Capitano. "Do you understand how dangerous what you're doing is?" It's an attempt to remind her, but Arlecchino's unwavering expression tells you that reminders are unnecessary and unwanted.

"Yes, you were removed for less." She only confirms it for you. "Dottore is of the opinion that you will be forgotten, as are several others-" you imagine singling him out has something to do with them fighting all the time- "but that is simply impossible."

"Times change. You would be surprised how many things we thought would never be forgotten that humans have completely lost all knowledge of."

To her, that concept may be harder to swallow. Arlecchino has never seen the centuries roll by as you have and isn't as familiar with what does and does not remain. Even the greatest gods fell in the Archon War, and most humans cannot name any but the seven Archons. It is natural to forget and progress. The past is meant to become speculation and theory.

"I won't allow that." Abruptly she stops, though her sudden words startle you somewhat with how intense they are. That kind of illogical thought process is natural, maybe. You can't really say. "They could remember."

You shake your head in response, a firm denial before she's even begun to try and sell you on the idea. "There's no need for them to remember."

"There is every need."

"People don't glean the same admiration you do for someone they see as a tyrant."

"Then evoke fear!"

"Enough." You did not expect to have to put your foot down so harshly but do not hesitate to. "I won't entertain this."

Arlecchino grits her teeth at how easily you let go. Even though you are obviously not acclimated to civilian life, you refuse her offer that would allow you to return to Snezhnaya in a potential position of power. It is yet another failed step in the many she expected to have to take to convince you.

"Then let me hide you until some time passes."

"I'm not a precious treasure." She ignores how you roll your eyes at her, completely withdrawing how emotionally available you had managed to be. She can't let her anger take control of her again. "I can handle myself thank you very much." 

You sense she will not be giving up easily.

Even if you could convince her to leave you to your devices and that you would be fine, you doubt she would accept that. However, you have a feeling she knows you intend to disappear after this conversation. You have no idea why else she would pour her heart out in an attempt to make you easier to keep hold of. If you leave, you hold the advantage.

"I cannot continue to defend your honour while you stand by and allow them to do as they please with your name."

That doesn't worry you too much when you've been contributing to it since leaving. "Then give up. Let my name be tarnished."

Arlecchno's anger finally begins to boil over despite her efforts to contain it, rage spilling from the cracks in her composure. "You cannot have forgotten everything we did together."

"Of course I have not forgotten that." Your words are more fuel than suffocation to the growing fire.

"Then accept my help and stop being so stubborn."

"There's no need to."

She grabs you by your arm before you can step away, and you can feel a chill in her hand seep into your skin, likely a byproduct of her delusion. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't match well with how warm you are most of the time. "You would be willing to pretend you don't wish for normalcy to avoid confronting the Tsaritsa?"

"If I return to Snezhnaya, I will die." You lay it out as directly as possible, without an if, but or and. There's no room to debate this because the outcome will not change. Even if the two of you decide you're best friends, nobody else will see things that way, so it's pointless to pretend you don't see it as it has to be.

Arlecchino finally appears to consider your words more carefully, remaining silent again, but you do not interrupt her this time. You shift your focus to the icy hand still touching you and begin to channel what little you can of your vision without drawing your bow to warm her. You hope she doesn't notice it, not wanting her to find an ulterior motive in it.

"Then it is unavoidable."

You don't quite understand what she is saying until she removes her hand from you to place something on the table you shared.

Suspiciously, you eye the item as you wonder about the significance of abandoning it beyond the obvious, but you don't want to acknowledge that option. "You'll need your insignia if you wish to return." You needn't remind her of that, but it is a prompting statement.

Arlecchino shocks you with her next words.

"I'm remaining with you."

You stand in stunned silence for several seconds, replaying them over in your head. Remaining with you. She doesn't mean that, does she? This is another of her persuasion tactics, right? She cannot actually go through with this. "You're what?"

"I'm not going back to Snezhnaya."

That only confirms your fear, the chill of it rushing to the core of your being and lighting your nerves up with an icy cold. Maybe that's just the hand touching your cheek.

"You can't. You shouldn't. You should stay there."

She makes an odd face at you, half understanding of your plight and the other confused about why you care so much about what she does with her job. "In that place you curse yourself for leaving Capitano?"

"It's a comfortable position." You try to reason that way with her, pointing out the inarguable benefit.

"I don't care for comfort."

You scramble to find another reason, something else to make her give in and pick it back up. You have not gotten anything you attempted to get this night. Arlecchino didn't leave and is, in fact, intent on leaving the Fatui to continue that.

"I don't care to waste my time pandering to people who do not value what I provide for them, all the while relying on it."

That's not a reason you wish to say, but it is. It is a very real reason. You can see it in how the Fatui regards your circumstances that they have never found enough value in the mountain of work you took on. If they had, you wouldn't be having this conversation. She's right, you realise, she realised what you could not.

"Even if you do not allow it, I would be able to follow you." It's a strange thing to say, but maybe she was trying to convince you. Her arm falls back to her side.

You shake your head. "Humans tire."

"I won't be too slow."

It's different for her. Arlecchino doesn't hulk around a bulky suit of armour and a helmet to conceal her face. It is open and well-known. There will be places she can't ever travel to again. Her life will be this and nothing else, while yours will eventually become something else, as it was always supposed to. Even if you don't want to now, you will move on and find a new sense of self. She may never.

"There are grave consequences."

"I know."

"You may never know peace."

"I can live with that."

"You--" 

--will question everything you have ever known. That was what you were about to say. You again come to a realisation that clears things for you. It's different. Arlecchino has not spent her whole life dedicated to serving the Tsaritsa, only a few years at best. You spent centuries. It is no wonder that she could give it all up so easily. Arlecchino only had one foot in the door in the first place.

The realisation dawning on you this way is daunting.

"...Fine. I will accept that." Though you thought you would struggle more, you also understand that it is useless to do so.

"A good choice."

The act of conceding can bring about a sense of relief and comfort. Conceding feels nice, in a way. It is a respite from constantly controlling everything to be exactly as you wish. It allows you the freedom of simply acknowledging the reality of a situation and accept that it may not align with your ideals, even if you don't necessarily like it.

You don't want Arlecchino to accompany you for her sake, but accepting that she will not share your fate of being humiliated can bring about a sense of peace. She will live however she pleases, and that means she may not want for the same future you received. Having a free will allows her to leave.

Slowly, you try to recover from the shock of the situation. As you take in a deep, quivering breath, you begin to steady yourself and attemt to process all that is unfolding.

A single question comes to your mind, a relatively simple one but significant enough to matter greatly.

"What is your name?"

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

[fairysluna]

aegon angst please im begging on my knees OLEASE OLEASE

this is perfect bc I've been planning on writing an angsty drabble based on this song for so long and i finally got the excuse lol. hope you like it!!🤍

Songfic #6

is it insensitive for me to say get your shit together? So I can love you.

PAIRING – Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x Reader.

TAGS – angst, hurt no comfort, alcohol consumption, cursing, mentions of cheating, established relationship, mentions of family issues. if something is missing let me know!!

You saw the clock hanging from the wall, biting your nails and sighing with despair. The feeling in your gut was giving you bad news, and the voice inside your head was trying to convince you to call him one more time with the fanciful idea of him picking up feeding your need to do it. You felt a hole in your belly where your stomach was supposed to be, and your body seemed to be unable to remain still in one place. 

4 am, and the last time you heard about Aegon was when he left the apartment and told you he would come back before midnight, for tomorrow he had a very important job interview early in the morning. Needless to say, he did not keep his word, and when the clock indicated that it was the middle of the night, you found yourself alone in the darkness of the living room, at the verge of tears produced by the worry and anger. Your cellphone remained quiet, no phone calls from him arrived. That only made you angrier, for he did not even think about letting you know whether he was alright or not; he did not even think how you had a sleepless night filled with pure distress due to the unavoidable concern. You called him at least twenty times during the night, and none of your calls were answered; you had already memorized his voice mail recording by heart. 

When the main door opened, your lost eyes found their way to the frame of it, and the first thing you saw was your boyfriend stumbling inside the living room; a green shirt ripped in the neck, leftovers of red lipstick on his neck, chin and cheeks, and sleepy eyes. You were already used to seeing that aspect on him, though you had naively believed that it would stop. But it never stopped. 

“Hello there, beauty,” he greeted you. He dragged his words as if his tongue was as heavy as a rock, holding his body against the door handle.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, you had the intention to scream at him, to yell at his face how much you hated him for doing this to you once again; but nothing would come out, your words would be stuck in the back of your throat, your mind too blurry with disappointment to even think in what to say; so you just stood up, grabbed your phone and left towards the room without uttering a sound. You heard how Aegon closed the door, and how he dragged his feet behind you as he followed you, but you did not even bother to turn around. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, and your heart fell to your stomach as you stopped walking. Once you finally had the courage to turn around to face you looked at him with disdain, as if he was mocking you without shame by asking something so stupidly obvious that it was insulting. 

“It’s 4 am,” you spat, already breathing heavily. “It’s 4 am and you just got home… it’s Tuesday!”

“Oh, Gods, I’m sorry, love…” he muttered, trying to step closer to you but you stepped back, rejecting his touch. “Arryk just got a new job so we went to a bar downtown and celebrated for him.”

“And did you forget that later today you have a job interview?” You reminded him, fuming already with rage burning through your eyes. You were barely able to keep it together, your nose already itching as you saw Aegon widening in surprise by your words. He had forgotten, he always did. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

“Love, listen-” his hand tried to reach for you once again but you slapped it away from you. 

“No, this is enough, I won’t listen to your pathetic excuses anymore,” you shook your head and your eyes became watery once you noticed the marks of lipstick on his skin. “I’m so tired of being the only one trying to keep us afloat.” 

“That’s a lie…” He accused you, narrowing his eyes. 

“Is it?” You chuckled incredulously, “I’m the one paying the bills, working my ass off so you don’t feel pressure to find a stupid job, but all you do is drink and live as if you were still a fucking teenager!” You raised your voice, making him shrink in his position. He took a step back, looking at you teary eyed. That would always be enough for you to soften to him, but not this time. “You’ve told me multiple times how your grandfather would yell at you to do your shit so I tried to be empathic with you and give you time, but I just-” 

A sob interrupted your words, making you choke in your own sorrow as you covered your mouth and quickly looked away from him. You closed your eyes for an instant and you slightly shook your head, feeling your heart being torn apart by the impact of reality against what used to be a fairytale. A shake breath came from your lips as you wiped your tears away and looked back at Aegon, who was standing as if he was a scolded child waiting to receive his punishment.

Those lilac eyes of him made you remember the beginning of your relationship, before you truly figured Aegon out. The first stages of a relationship were always perfect, relaying on the rush of adrenaline and excitement that a new feeling would provide; but now that it’s been four years, all that magic had vanished… sadly, the love and devotion you had for him was still making your heart beat, which is why it was so hard for you to pronounce the following words,

“I can’t allow myself to love you anymore,” you struggled to say, the sobs that threatened to escape you were making you choke and gulp. “Why can’t you get your shit together? Why can’t you grow up and act like a fucking adult?”

“You know it’s hard for me,” he excused himself, but you sighed. 

“And you think it isn’t hard for me too? I stay awake every night you go out, scared to death. I have two jobs so we can keep this fucking apartment so you don’t go back and live with your parents. Because that’s how much I care about you.”

“And I love you for that.”

“Then fucking prove it to me!” You gave an exasperated yell, “Prove me that you love me! Because lately I feel like you’re saying all these things just because you’re used to them.”

“How?” He asked, “what do you want me to do?”

And there it is, the disappointment crossing your face once again. You could speak to him, scream and yell a bunch of words, but he would never listen. He would always disguise his lack of attention with questions like this, even when you had been screaming the answer to it ever since he stepped into the apartment. 

You did not respond to him; you just shook your head as you made your way to your bag. You grabbed your keys, your phone and your wallet. Aegon frowned after looking at that action, and he tried to follow you around but his feet felt so heavy that he only stumbled in his place. 

“Where are you going?” He demanded an answer, “what are you doing?”

Once again, silence was the answer to his question and his eyes filled with tears followed your frame until you stopped in the middle of the door frame of the room. 

“My love…” he whispered, already feeling himself being sobered up by the anguish he started to feel inside his chest. “Please, don’t. Not you too.”

“You’re losing me, Aegon,” you muttered, loud enough for him to see. “Be aware of that.”

Once you closed the door behind your back, Aegon broke into silent sobs and cries. He had underestimated your limits, stupidly believing that you would always be by his side. Now that he found himself alone in a room filled with memories, the only thing he was able to do was to regret.

GENERAL TAG LIST — @borikenlove @aemondsversion @jvpit3rs @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @valeskafics @clairacassidy @aemondx @randomdragonfires @gothtargaryen @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jamespotterismydaddy

AEGON TAG LIST — @lovelykhaleesiii @ganymede-princess @xfancyuu @megatardisbaby

[malk1ns]

Ten Opening Lines

Rules: list the first line of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any.

thanks for the tag @yabagofmilfs :)

1) what happens in vegas

Zhenya is having a lovely time at the beach until the drums start.

2) big hands.

“Did you pick this shirt because you knew it would match the wallpaper?” Sid asks, crouching a little and pinching at Geno’s iPhone screen to zoom in. “Ok, smile.”

3) post-loss comfort sex

Geno always drives home after they lose.

4) home hours ago

The haunted house was Disco’s idea.

5) postgame plane BJ

The minute they get off the ice after the Capitals game, Zhenya feels Sid’s eyes on him.

6) tumblr ask prompt: things you said but didn’t mean

Zhenya’s phone has been going off since the news broke last night.

7) we want crosby

When Sid used to lie in bed at night as a little boy and dream about being in the NHL, something like this never crossed his mind.

8) bare in mind

Sid doesn’t notice it until the offseason is practically done.

9) block the noise with the sound of 'i need you'

The hotel they stay in when they’re playing in Vegas—the Monte Carlo, Zhenya thinks, but after as many roadies as he’s been on they all blur together—has the thinnest walls out of all 31 cities they travel to.

10) Mr. Crosby

Connor doesn’t get intimidated by much anymore.

When I did one of these in another fandom, my main takeaway was that I had essentially plagiarized myself—two of my fics started with almost identical first lines. Incredible stuff. Nothing like that here—so what did I learn? She’s an in media res queen; can’t stop won’t stop. Did you notice anything?

if you’re seeing this i want to see yours; tag, you’re it!

[paracosmic-murdock]

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 17: "Les coquelicots rouges"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: It has been two years since your secret was exposed and you had to leave London. Two years with deep buried misery and in which you missed everything you used to have. However, neglect, novelties, and letters made sure to give you more than one reason to return to claim someone who is as rightfully yours as your estate and your people: Benedict Bridgerton.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, mutual pining, (kinda???) enemies (fake, this is just pride) to lovers (surely), bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: You and Benedict finally sit down to have a conversation.

Word count: 2.1K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's paracosm (main masterlist)

Benedict went inside Lady Danbury's home, waiting for you to get ready to meet him.

He knew you were taking so long entirely on purpose, and he hated you for that. What he hated you the most for, though, was that he couldn't possibly fathom the idea to hate you at all.

Because he adored you, but Benedict wouldn't act upon said fervent desires that threatened to burn him alive.

He was the suitor of Miss Prince, it would be unfair to her, he couldn't simply be led by temptation and fall for you all over again. Although, how can you fall again if you never stood up after the first drop in the first place?

"Mr. Bridgerton?" He stood up immediately. "Lady Y/N is ready to receive you."

"Thank you." he replied politely, quickly walking to the sitting room.

There, he saw you, radiant as ever.

"My Lady," he called for your attention, and your gaze went from the bouquet of red poppies to him. "We must speak."

"We must," you confirmed, trying hard to ignore that he used your title, taking a seat and motioning him to do the very same. His eyes followed your every move, hypnotized by the way you looked on your white dress with embroidered lavenders and dark purple vest. "Do tell."

Benedict cleared his throat. No matter how far from the red flowers you were, they still caused some sort of discomfort to the sight, to him, for whatever reason. "I believe I should be grateful to you."

You hummed. "What for?"

"You, uh…" he began. "Taught me a lot. Things I never thought possible for me, you motivated me to try them… to experiment and truly learn from myself and others."

You gasped quietly. "Did you kiss or advance kiss another gentleman, Benedict?"

"Y/N, I-" He blushed, making your face go warm at the thought. You were actually just teasing him, but his reaction told you there was no joke. "That is not an appropriate topic of conversation and not at all what I was hoping to discuss with you."

"Alright, I shall not say a word." you murmured.

Benedict cleared his throat and looked at you. "More than once I tried to find you, but I stopped myself. There was a reason: it was not the right thing to do. You are not the right-"

"If you came to reject me, allow me to tell you that I have known nothing but repulsion for two years," you stated firmly, forgetting the light turn your conversation had seemed to take, and swallowing the heart of shattered glass. "I needn't anymore of it, so you might as well take your leave."

"If you could let me speak, that would be very much appreciated," Benedict said, sarcastic. "I understand why you did what you did, I do; I simply find it cruel that you knew well of my struggles and did not have the decency to put me out of my misery. For both of our sakes."

You sighed. "I wanted to do so, but I could not, Benedict, because…" You stopped.

"Go on." He rushed you.

"It was not until the night before I left that I went from seeing my cousin as an utter idiot to an actual threat. He said 'we must marry if you wish to keep living this life for you are infatuated that I will never become the Duke', which was true. But then he told me that I would either marry him willingly, or he would marry another lady, throw me to the streets as the sole owner of everything that is mine, and make sure that no gentleman marries me… After that night in Aubrey Hall, I realized what he truly meant by making sure I lacked something every lady must have to be worthy of marrying. I knew what he truly meant by that."

Benedict stayed in silence, partly because he didn't know what to say and partly because he wouldn't dare say a word.

"I left, then. I had planned to, but I was going to let my cousin know I would leave. He gave me no choice," you continued. "My initial plan was to come to London, go to the Academy, make a name for myself, be the artist I had always wanted; but when Claude did that, I knew that I needed an alternative to take care of myself: sell my art, which could only be accomplished by being a renowned artist and that was only possible if I were a man," He sighed heavily at your words. "I gradually changed my mind, but the need to be wed set when I received a letter from France. Right then and there I knew it was time for me to get married and have children: the next rightful Duke, an heir of mine. It was Father's will, for my cousin to be the lord of the house until I got married, but for the successor of the family to be our own flesh and blood, his future grandson… The King agreed to it, but if he ever finds out about what happened here in London, he will throw that away and name another duke instead. Not my husband, not my child, not my cousin: a stranger to the region, the winery, and the duty. And as for me, my fate would be most tragic, Benedict."

"I am truly sorry," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the poppies that disrupted the harmony of the white and pastel pink color palette of the rest of the flowers in Danbury House. "I never wished for any of this to happen, for us to end like this."

"The story isn't over just yet," you announced, and he nodded for you to keep going. "When my Grandfather took me under his care, he changed completely: he despised me for escaping, for pretending, for seducing you into tarnishing my innocence, and only the Lord knows how he found out about what we did… He took me to the Americas, he ruined my life, and he found a bastard child of my father to take my place. I managed to get rid of him, but I am afraid it is only a matter of time until my grandfather realizes the ruse was orchestrated by me and tells everything to the King. Then, it will be over for me unless I have someone to look after me."

"You could marry anyone, then, for it is so urgent."

"I do not want just anyone, Mr. Bridgerton," you answered. "I want you, and you should know by now that I do not get intimidated easily, much less by a mere miss who disrespects the family of Simon and Daphne and disregards the importance of culture, not to mention that has such terrible opinions on your sister Eloise, firmly supports the toxic patriarchy, and believes herself to be too good for you."

Benedict frowned, leaving alone the flowers for once. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

"Worry not, my heart, for as long as I breathe, no one will dare speak of my loved ones in such a way."

"Whatever did you do, Y/N?" He sighed.

You smiled sheepishly. "Nothing just yet."

"Y/N…" He groaned. "Why don't you just stop interfering in my life? You could have anyone, but you just want me, I beg you to tell me why."

"Because I love you," you replied. "And I am not giving up on us, because if you didn't love me as well, you wouldn't even have come here in the first place."

"You do not need me…" He pursed his lips, his gaze returning to the poppies. "These are ruining the aesthetic of the house, I cannot stand them. Who brought them here?"

"You must forgive Lord Cortez, my heart," You shrugged. "He knows of my fondness for poppies."

"Lord Cortez?" he questioned, exhaling jealousy and air from his lungs. "Really? Are you doing this to catch my attention?"

"Only if it's working."

Benedict rolled his eyes.

Of course it was working.

"You have made it!" you exclaimed when you saw her, faking excitement as well as you could. "Thank you for joining me."

"Thank you for inviting me." she replied, greeting Madame Delacroix gently.

"I was telling Madame Delacroix how much I would like a wine-colored dress," you updated her. "I believe it would look fantastic on me. I know that burgundy is not a color ladies wear, is it? That will certainly catch some attention from the gentlemen."

Madame Delacroix smiled. "There is actually this silk that just arrived last week, Lady Y/N. I ordered it for small details on gowns, but there is certainly enough for a full dress for you."

"I would love to see that, Madame Delacroix."

"I shall be back in a minute, my Lady."

You looked at Miss Prince with an expression she couldn't quite decipher. She knew your intentions were not as pure as you disguised them to be, but she knew you were not precisely lying to her either.

A part of her knew you loved Benedict, it was as clear as the water. She could notice easily that there was a strong connection between you and him, but she was ignorant of how much had actually happened between you both.

Miss Prince believed, also, that you were a lady who would never allow a man dishonor her, whatever that meant. She was right, but not quite for Benedict was not any man. He was the man you loved, your former fiancé, even.

"There was a woman from the Academy," you mentioned once you were alone. "They used to spend a lot of time together, and it was obvious that Benedict was fond of her."

"How do you know that?"

"I was in the Royal Academy of Art, remember?" you said. "I saw them. He seemed utterly enamored. And there have been many more ladies as far as I know… If you wish for a husband whose only love has always been you, you are most certainly looking for him in the wrong place."

Miss Prince nodded, opting for ignoring your presence that annoyed her at this point.

You smiled proudly to yourself, knowing that you would not let her take him from you. Knowing that you could continue with your plan because she was now aware that Benedict is not the kind of man she desires so, and if she chooses to stick with him, she will have to settle for who she considers not enough for her.

"Here it is, my Lady," Madame Delacroix returned with the silks, a wonderful color you knew would look wondrous on you. "I have so much in my mind for your gown, I will make sure you are the most beautifully dressed."

"Merci beaucoup, Madame Delacroix," you thanked her, looking around carefully. Miss Prince was far away and a couple of ladies were near you both. "Uh, just between us, I am confident you remember an arrangement between us, do you not? About whose creative mind would be responsible for a dress for the most important day of a lady's life..."

"Mon Dieu !" she exclaimed knowingly.

Whatever it takes.

Dearest gentle reader,

To this day, it is not a novelty that Lady Y/N of Burgundy is back in London... What for, if we may ask? Your beloved author might as well have the answer to your questions.

After days of gracefully pacing around Mayfair with her sponsor for the season, Lady Danbury, Lady Y/N started regaining her status as France's finest and most coveted jewel. Among my speculations, her being named the Diamond of the Season finally was her to stay a maid until then.

Fortunately or not, we will never know about that, for rumor has it she is engaged to none other than Mr. Benedict Bridgerton.

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