#i think he was more puzzled why i was so hesitant and dancing around it. not a reaction to the actual game

[sunspira]

mentioning "genshin impact" to my therapist has been the most humiliating moment of my young life

[azullumi]

“i wanna be yours” ; aventurine

premise — but this is what friends do, right? they slow dance together in the living room while saying sweet nothings ; inspired by this ask (though i never really followed the entire idea, my hands has minds of its own)

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff (with a little bit of angst at the end), friends but wanting more type of relationship, all written in reader’s pov, not proofread, 1.2k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs (hi boo)

note — i keep on comparing aventurine to the sun i dont even know why i do it. 9 DAYS LEFT UNTIL HIS BANNER

“care to dance?” the languid, lazy silence draws itself away as the honey-haired man spoke, offering you his hand as he did. the light humming of the music in the background keeps the night awake and alive, the softness of the notes intertwined in the air that settles in your home.

you stare at his hand for a moment, admiring the glistening bracelet on his wrist before you answer, tone meek and hesitant: “i don’t know how to dance.” you expected him to laugh at you for not knowing a simple and common concept; dancing was a form of art known to many and yet, you are unfamiliar with it.

but aventurine simply smiles at you and takes your hand to hold on his own, gently pulling you up from your seat and making you stumble on your feet—however, he catches you and doesn’t let you fall to the ground. you are only met with the warmth of his body and the feeling of his unoccupied hand resting on the small of your back.

“you could have warned me before you did that.” you huffed, although you weren’t exactly reprimanding him.

“i still caught you, didn’t i?” the man answers in a gentle tone as he begins to sway you to the rhythm of the song (the melody wraps itself around your form like the cradle of a warm blanket), a familiar tune that plays in your living room and now you are listening to it as you—no, as he dances and guides your movements. you try to follow him albeit like a clumsy child and silence trailed behind your steps as none of you spoke, only wallowing in this moment between you and him.

(his hand is warm against yours, fingers lacing with each other like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. you have never known how gentle he can be, have never known the warmth of his hands and the softness of his palms up until this moment. maybe it’s the feeling of his touch that’s making you drunk and aeons, you’ve never thought of yourself as a selfish person but something in the way he’s holding you makes you crave for more.)

“focus,” he whispers to your ear, catching you completely off-guard when his breath tickles your skin, “you’re supposed to look at me, not at the ground.”

you compose yourself, bringing your gaze to his face instead of the marble floors that seem to spin as you move, “i was watching my feet so i won’t accidentally step on you.”

“i don’t mind if you do, all i wish is for you to look at me and me only.” he speaks so gently, so delicately as if something akin to despair hangs on the tangled threads of his words. you study his face, looking at the lines on his features and trying to look for the gap of his expression—you could never tell what he was thinking, could never decipher the meaning he skillfully weaves to the words that he utters (you wish you had the ability to look into minds, perhaps you would have known him).

he notices your silence and smiles, “can’t a poor man have their own wishes?”

you take a moment once more to answer, “i didn’t say that.” well, in fact, you weren’t saying anything. the sound of laughter slips past his lips and perhaps, if you didn’t see the way his eyes formed into a crescent and his expression contorts one into amusement, you would have mistook the sound as part of the song.

“you should see the way you look right now.” 

you raised your eyebrow at him, confusion evident in your face, “what do you mean? is there dirt on my face?”

aventurine pulled you closer to him, movements coming to a stop as you two stood still. his face is leaning down to yours, lips merely inches away from each other, and your thoughts are in a jumble as if your mind was a library of cluttered and disorganized bookshelves.

“no, i’m saying you look lovely tonight.” he whispers—and you swear, you see his eyes look down to your lips for a moment—, his voice low as if you’re the only one who’s supposed to hear and not the moon that casts its curious glow on his skin, not the stars that watched your every move, but you and just you.

(you’re left with nothing but silence and warmth in your cheeks, not knowing where to focus or even think about—the strong scent of his perfume or his words that repeatedly echoed inside your head.)

the golden-haired man doesn’t speak any further, continuing his slow dance with you in the comfort of your living room as he hums along to the melody. the night is heavy against your shoulders as the silver moonlight laid on the ground like spilled milk.

“it is quite simple, isn’t it? look, you’re able to follow.”

“aven, you’re doing all of the work.”

he slowly spins you around—the world looks slow and messy for you for a moment—before he answers, “barely.” he comes face to face with you and you don’t fail to notice the affection in his eyes when he meets your gaze.

“don’t look at me like that.” you wished he wouldn’t look at you in that way; something tugs at your heart and suffocates you.

“like what?”

“i don’t know.” hesitation follows your tone, broken and unsure, seemingly lost in an empty field full of directions. “like…” like you wanted me like a lover, you keep the words at your throat knowing you’ll choke on it one day. you don’t know how to say it, you don’t even know if you can say it. it was as if the ability to speak has been taken away from you.

the song came to its end and so was the dance.

“you should go to sleep, don’t stay up too much.” aventurine says, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss on your forehead. he lets you go as soon as he parts his lips, stepping back to the distance the both of you once had before all of this happened, as if nothing occurred between you two, as if the words whispered against each other, the closeness, the intimacy were all just some silly imagination.

“are you leaving already?” you ask, your hand reaching out to tug at his sleeve as if you didn’t want him to go. you don’t even know what made you hold on to him, what made you want him to not want to leave.

the man who had the universe in his wake answers with warmth in his tone, “i can’t stay any longer.” he holds your hand and ushers you to remove your grasp on his sleeve. everything felt so different now, your thoughts were all so loud but you couldn’t dare to speak nor say something as you watched him turn away and leave—the sound of the door closing echoed throughout the corners of your home and you were left alone, in silence and in the cold.

but the comfort and warmth of his touch lingered on your skin—and you’ll remember it all; it will haunt you, follow your shadow everywhere you go, pulling on the hem of your shirt with the desperation of a dying man and you don’t know how to live knowing the way he held you on this night. how are you supposed to deal with the fact that his hands were as soft and warm as summer?

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Nightmares

The start of my Astarion rabbithole begins here...

Summary: You can't sleep without Astarion. Even still, nightmares continue to haunt you but Astarion vows to do all he can to ease your pain.

“Yes darling?” Astarion asks the moment he feels your face collide with his back, lifting his gaze from his book. Your arms wrap around his waist, pressing his body against yours and Astarion will never tell you how much he loves that feeling. No matter what you bribe him with.

You incoherently mumble something in return, burying your face into the back of his shirt.

“I can’t quite make out what you just said, dearest. You’ll have to speak up a bit more,” he bites back a laugh at how you give an angry grumble in response and closes the book, gently prying you off him.

Turning around to face you, he presses a kiss to the top of your head before tilting your chin up so that he can press another kiss to your lips, his cold slender fingers gliding over your warm skin. The tip of his index finger traces along your jawline as he hungrily kisses you deeper, his other hand tangled in your hair.

You kiss him back with equal fervour, eyes closed. His fangs graze your bottom lip, drawing a hint of blood which he immediately licks up, letting out a soft moan at the sweetness that floods his tongue.

“You still have not told me what it is you desire, my sweet,” he nuzzles into your hair, arms wrapped tightly around you. His book lies on the ground long forgotten, all that he can think about is how nice you feel in his embrace, as though you were made for it.

“Cuddle,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes. “Can’t sleep without you.”

“You miss me that much, dearest?” He teases. “Come along then, you need your sleep.” He pretends as though your words haven’t set his ears on fire, that the sudden rush of warmth in his chest wasn’t caused by your proclamation of how much you wanted his presence and gently guides you back to your tent, barely remembering to pick his book up.

Once he’s tucked you into your bedroll, pushing hair out of your face before you start sneezing from the tickles, he removes his tunic and gets comfortable by your side. The moment he lies down, you snuggle up to him, burying your face in his chest. Your body curls up, fitting against his like a puzzle piece.

“Good night, Astarion,” you murmur drowsily.

“Good night, my sweet,” he runs his fingers through your hair, the motion lulling you to sleep like it always does. He relishes in the way your hair smoothly parts for his fingers, the softness of the strands brushing against his skin. Ever since he introduced his hair routine to you, your hair condition had been improving and he was pleased with how much you loved to show it off to him.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off, lips parting slightly as your chest gently rises and falls with each breath. Astarion enjoys this part of your nightly cuddles the most, it reminds him of why he fights so hard each and every day. If he had to withstand the exhausting hikes, fights and idiocy of the rest of the party just to see the small smile of contentment on your face when you slept, he would do it for an eternity without hesitation. All that mattered to him was that you were happy, safe. Free.

He gently hums a tune he remembers you humming before, resisting the urge to kiss you over and over again, knowing that it would wake you up. His fingers dance along your back, tracing the scars that mar it. He’s long memorised each and every single one of them, whether it be from the passionate nightly activities or simply cuddling, just like tonight. Even though you find them disgusting, he finds them beautiful. They are signs of what has failed to kill you, of what you’ve pulled through. They told those who saw that that you were strong, that you were a survivor.

He finds himself tracing over the thin scar lines along your arm that wrap around like vines. You’ve never told them where you got them from, each time he tries to breach the topic you shy away, changing the subject with a laugh. He knows glimpses of your past from the nights the two of you have sat together under the moonlight, talking about whatever came to mind at the moment, but he never quite got the full picture. You purposely avoided talking about certain things and he never once probed further out of respect for your privacy, but moments like this make him wonder what someone as cheerful and bright as you had been through to become a completely different person when such topics were discussed.

Still, he won’t push you further than you’re comfortable with. You’ve never done it to him, even if it clearly frustrated you how little he was willing to divulge and he respected you for that. You would tell him about the scars on your arm when you were comfortable with it, he knew, and he could wait. He was a vampire spawn, he had the time to wait.

You shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowed and fingernails digging into the bedroll beneath. A nightmare .

Astarion gently rubs your back, whispering sweet assurances into your ear and pressing his forehead against yours, hoping it will calm you down. The whimper that escapes your lips breaks his undead heart and he wishes he could enter dreams, just so that he could fight off whatever nightmare was plaguing you tonight.

“It’s alright, love. It’s just a nightmare,” he whispers, despising how powerless he is. “I’m always right here, right by your side.”

“Star,” you whimper, eyes cracking open. “Help. Hurts.”

He desperately presses more kisses to the top of your head, holding you tightly. “I’m right here, I’m right here.”

He repeats the three words over and over again like a mantra, cradling you as you cry into his chest, sobs wracking your body. His hand rests on the back of your head, his body curled around yours to shield you from the world.

“Let it all out. No one else is here,” he murmurs. You cry even harder at his words, gasping between each sob until you have no tears left to give. He ignores how your fingernails have dug into his shoulders so much that you’ve drawn blood, far more concerned about how you are feeling.

“I’m sorry,” the words feel thick in your throat. You wipe your eyes, looking up at him with such pain in your eyes and sniffle.

“Don’t be, love. We all need a little space to cry.” He presses his lips to your warm, tear-stained skin, willing all your pain away.

Wrapped in his comforting embrace, you slowly drift back to sleep with the feeling of his hand rubbing circles on your back. Once he’s sure you’ve properly fallen asleep, he lets himself slip into a meditative half-trance, but always keeps an ear out for you just in case. He won’t ever leave you to face your demons alone. You’d do the same for him anyways, he’s just repaying the favour, right?

You reach out towards him in your slumber, throwing an arm around him so that you can pull him closer. Your breath tickles his skin and something within his chest squeezes, taking his breath away.

I love you, his lips form the words but no sound comes out. Watching your now peacefully slumbering form, his undead heart comes back to life but words still fail him. For now, he’ll resign himself to practising the words so that when the moment comes, he will be able to say them, and know you will say them back.

[chiyuuchu]

Shoto’s for you page <3 (30th July 2024)

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Prompt! The class tried to figure what a nonchalant boy like Shoto Todoroki would have on his tiktok for you page.

Class 1-A was abuzz with energy during a rare free period. As usual, the students found themselves immersed in various activities—some studying, others chatting, and a few engrossed in their phones. The topic of the day happened to be TikTok, as Mina proudly showed off the latest dance trend she had mastered.

"Deku, what's your FYP like?" Kaminari asked, lounging on his desk.

Midoriya blushed, rubbing the back of his head. "Oh, you know, mostly hero analysis videos, training tips, and a few cat videos."

Kirishima laughed. "Sounds about right. What about you, Bakugou?"

Bakugou scoffed, crossing his arms. "Explosions, fight scenes, and cooking hacks. Why does it matter?"

The class erupted in laughter, each person sharing snippets of their For You Pages, until the conversation naturally drifted towards the enigmatic Todoroki Shoto.

"Hey, Todoroki," Mina called out, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Do you have TikTok?"

Todoroki, who had been quietly reading a book, looked up with his usual calm demeanor. "Yes, I do."

The class fell silent for a moment, collectively stunned. Todoroki having TikTok seemed almost out of character for the stoic boy.

"Wait, really?" Jiro asked, incredulous. "What do you even watch on there?"

Todoroki shrugged. "Midoriya kept asking me to download it so he could send me videos. I thought it would be easier to just have the app."

This piqued everyone's curiosity. "So, what's your FYP like?" Kaminari asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Todoroki hesitated, an unusual expression crossing his face. "I'd rather not show."

The class exchanged puzzled looks. What could Todoroki, of all people, possibly have on his TikTok that he wouldn't want to share?

"Come on, Todoroki!" Mina pleaded. "We're all friends here. What are you hiding?"

But Todoroki remained firm. "No."

Suspicion and curiosity reached an all-time high. The students whispered among themselves, brainstorming ways to uncover Todoroki's mysterious FYP. Finally, Mina came up with a plan.

The next day, during another free period, Mina put her plan into action. She sent Todoroki a TikTok and approached him with a smile. "Hey, Todoroki, can you open your phone and check the TikTok I just sent you? I think you'll find it interesting."

Todoroki, unsuspecting, nodded and pulled out his phone. As soon as he opened the app, Mina lunged, snatching the phone from his hands.

"Mina, what are you—" Todoroki started, but it was too late. The entire class gathered around as Mina began scrolling through his For You Page.

The room fell into a stunned silence as the truth was revealed. Todoroki's FYP was filled with TikTok edits of Y/N. Clips of her during training, random shots of her around campus, and even some candid moments where she was just being herself—all meticulously edited with effects, music, and transitions.

“No way!” Kaminari wheezed as he took the phone from Mina. “Let’s check his favorites!” he said with a smirk.

And behold.. an edit of Y/n way back from the sports festival with an incredibly great velocity transition to the song ‘One Of The Girls’. And it was in fact very interesting.

“It’s not what it looks like—!” Todoroki pleaded in embarrassment.

The class, however, erupted into a mix of laughter and teasing.

"Well, well, well," Kaminari smirked. "Looks like someone has a crush!" he sing-songs as he swipes on the next favorite which happened to be an edit of Y/n playing the electric guitar during the school festival performance with the background music being ‘Heartbeat’ by Childish Gambino. The edit was indeed also very alluring with its flashing velocity and dim filter.

Kirishima clapped Todoroki on the back. "Didn't know you had it in you, man."

Even Bakugou couldn't help but chuckle. "You're more of a sap than I thought, Icy Hot."

“Don’t worry! We won’t tell Y/n.” Mina teases.

The class continued to tease Todoroki, but just then, the door opened and Y/N walked in, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the commotion.

“Tell me what?” she asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

The room fell silent, everyone exchanging nervous glances.

“Uh, nothing!” Mina said, trying to deflect. “Just… hero stuff.”

Y/N wasn’t convinced. “Hero stuff? Really?”

Midoriya, ever the peacemaker, tried to step in. “It’s just that, um, Todoroki’s TikTok FYP is… interesting.”

Y/N’s curiosity piqued, and she looked directly at Todoroki. “Interesting how?”

Todoroki took a deep breath, deciding it was time to come clean. "My FYP is full of edits of you, Y/N. I hope this isn’t weird and… I do very much admire you."

The class held their breath, waiting for Y/N’s reaction. She blinked, processing the information, before a small smile spread across her face.

“You… admire me?” she repeated softly.

Todoroki nodded, feeling a mix of vulnerability and relief. “Yes. I didn’t know how to tell you, but I guess now you know.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and she took a step closer to him. “You could have just told me, you know. I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages.”

The class collectively sighed with relief and joy, realizing that this was the moment they had been waiting for.

“So,” Kaminari said, breaking the tension, “are you two finally going to go out or what?”

Todoroki looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with newfound confidence.

Y/N laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I’d love to, Shoto.”

The class cheered, clapping and whistling as the new couple shared a shy, but happy moment. And as the buzz of excitement filled the room, Todoroki couldn’t help but feel relieved. What had started as a mortifying ordeal had ended in the best way possible.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Unrequited

(the second part to unfulfilled)

(i still don't think y'all will like this, but 🥺🥺)

Summary: Harry invites you to a party, and something goes wrong. He blames himself for it, but then something unexpected happens.

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, intoxicants, kissing, fluff.

“Hey, you wanna come to the party tonight?” Harry asked you, smiling.

You looked around, not believing that he was asking you, of all people. He saw you looking around, and said, “What?”

“You’re asking me?” you answered.

“Yeah.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You. You wanna come or not?”

You stared at him for a few moments, waiting for him to burst out into laughter, and tell you that he was joking, it was all a silly prank. But, he didn’t.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, y/n. seriously. I'm asking you to come to a party with me tonight.”

“But-but no one ever asks me that. Like, ever.”

“Why?”

“I tell them not to…” you pout, and he presses his lips together.

"Come on, why not give it a shot?" Harry urged. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling a rush of conflicting emotions. On one hand, the idea of attending a party with Harry, someone who was way more confident and popular, and…extroverted, was exhilarating. But on the other hand, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being out of place, like a puzzle piece that just didn't fit in.

"I...I don't know," you stammered, clutching onto the strap of your bag tightly. "I don't belong there?"

Harry's expression softened, and he stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. You'll fit right in, I promise. And besides, I'll be there with you the whole time."

His words were comforting, and you found yourself slowly nodding in agreement. Maybe this was an opportunity to step out of your comfort zone, to experience something new.

"Okay," you finally replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll go."

Harry grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Great! You won't regret it, I promise."

As the evening approached, you found yourself growing increasingly nervous. You fussed over your outfit, second-guessing every choice you made. But despite your apprehension, you couldn't deny the flutter of anticipation building in your stomach. You hadn’t felt that in a while.

When Harry arrived to pick you up, you were greeted with a warm smile that instantly eased your nerves. As you made your way to the party together, he chatted animatedly, sharing stories and jokes that made you laugh until your sides hurt. He was fun to be with, and you both got along really well.

Upon reaching the bustling venue, the sound of music and laughter filled the air. Harry guided you through the crowd, introducing you to his friends with an easy charm that made you feel surprisingly at ease.

But as the night progressed, you found yourself retreating into the background, feeling increasingly self-conscious amidst the sea of confident faces. Everyone danced and drank with confidence, feeling lively and free. But you felt like you were trapped, and you envied every person who enjoyed themselves without a care in the world, and didn’t feel guilty afterwards. You clutched onto a plastic cup of beer, taking small sips and trying to stay there. You had no idea how you wound up in this corner, or where Harry went. He was supposed to be by your side the whole night, so where was he?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice when Harry began to search for you, his concern growing with each passing minute. He navigated through the throngs of people, his eyes scanning the room until he stumbled upon a dimly lit alcove hidden from view.

There, sitting hunched over with a vacant expression, was you.

Harry's heart clenched at the sight, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. Without a moment's hesitation, he made his way towards you, his footsteps audible as he got closer.

"Y/N?" he called softly, his voice laced with worry. "Are you okay?"

You looked up, your eyes glazed and unfocused, a wave of relief washing over Harry at the sight of your familiar face. As he got closer, he saw the worry in your expression, and it made him even more concerned.

"What happened?" he asked gently, crouching down beside you and placing a hand on your shoulder. "Did someone do something to you?"

"I need to get out of here," you muttered, your voice barely audible over the thumping music.

Harry glanced at you, concern etched across his features. "Are you okay, Y/N?"

You shook your head, your movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. "No, something's wrong. I need to leave."

Harry's brow furrowed with worry as he took in your disoriented state. "Okay, let's go," he said firmly, his hand reaching out to steady you.

But as you made your way towards the exit, Harry's suspicions were piqued. He noticed the way your steps faltered, the glassy look in your eyes, and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. You weren’t yourself, and even if you didn’t drink often, it wouldn’t have been because of just a couple of beers.

"Wait," he said, his voice urgent. "Did you drink anything tonight?"

You frowned, trying to recall the events of the evening through the haze of confusion. "I...I don't remember," you admitted, your heart pounding with fear. Everything felt so big and loud, and you just wanted to close your eyes and fall asleep right then and there.

Harry's expression darkened, anger flaring within him as he surveyed the chaotic scene around you. "Damn it," he muttered, his grip tightening on your arm. 

"I bet someone spiked your drink."

Fear gripped your chest, and you held onto Harry's arm, grateful for him being there for you.

"What do we do?" you whispered, your voice trembling, and you sighed loudly..

"We get you out of here, now," Harry replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Hold onto me, Y/N. I've got you."

With Harry's arm wrapped protectively around your waist, you stumbled towards the exit, your heart pounding with fear and adrenaline. Each step felt like an eternity as you fought to keep your wits about you, your mind racing with a million thoughts and fears.

As you got out of the ridiculously overcrowded place, you felt better. Air rushed into your lungs, fresh air–that hadn’t come out of somebody else’s mouth. He guided you to his car, and assured you he was sober.

“Promise?” you asked, looking up at him with doe, glassy eyes. He nodded, gripping your chin and mumbling, “promise”

Once inside, he wasted no time in starting the engine, his hands gripping the steering wheel  "Hang on, Y/N," he said firmly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I'll get you home safe, I promise."

Harry drove through the quiet streets, the weight of the situation pressed heavily on his shoulders. He stole glances at you through the mirror,, his heart sinking at the sight of your slumped form in the passenger seat, your eyes glazed with intoxication.

As the car rolled to a stop outside your dormitory, Harry turned to you, concerned. "We're here, Y/N," he said gently. 

You nodded weakly, your movements slow and unsteady as you struggled to gather your bearings. With Harry's help, you stumbled out of the car and towards the entrance of the building, your steps faltering with each passing moment.

As Harry guided you down the hallway towards your room, your steps wobbled with each movement, and you couldn't help but giggle uncontrollably at the slightest provocation.

"Hey, watch your step," Harry chuckled, trying to steady you as you stumbled over your own feet.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you slurred, your words muffled by a fit of laughter. "I look like a drunk moron."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at your quip, shaking his head in amusement as he guided you towards your door. "Sure."

As Harry helped you into your room, you collapsed onto the bed with a dramatic flourish, your limbs splayed out in every direction as you let out a contented sigh.

"Ah, home sweet home," you declared, your voice tinged with merriment. "I think I might just live here forever."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle again, shaking his head in amusement as he watched you flop onto the mattress. "I think you've had enough excitement for one night, Y/N."

You pouted playfully, your bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated display of disappointment. "But the night is still young, Harry! We could have so much fun together."

Your demeanor had suddenly changed, from afraid and scared to carefree. The intoxicant that was added to your drink might be doing its work.

"I think we've had more than enough excitement for one night, let’s tuck you in" he replied, his tone teasing yet gentle.

As Harry tucked the blankets around you, you let out a contented sigh, your eyes drifting shut and becoming droopy.. "You're a good friend, Harry," you murmured, your words slurred with exhaustion. "The best."

Harry's heart swelled with affection at your words, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched you drift off to sleep.

"Sleep tight, Y/N," he whispered, his voice soft with warmth.

As Harry finished tucking you into bed, he turned to leave, but before he could take a step, you reached out and grabbed his hand, your sudden touch sending a shiver through him.

"Harry," you whispered, your voice soft.

Harry turned back to face you, his heart skipping a beat at the vulnerability in your gaze. "What is it, Y/N?"

Without warning, you pulled him towards you, your movements clumsy but filled with determination. Before Harry could react, you pressed your lips against his, the kiss sloppy and uncoordinated but filled with a raw intensity that took his breath away.

For a moment, Harry froze, his mind reeling with a whirlwind of emotions. He knew he should pull away, should put an end to this before things went too far. But as he felt the warmth of your lips against his, he couldn't deny the spark of desire that ignited within him, the longing that pulsed between them like a current of electricity. He had wanted this, maybe for far too long. But it was tucked away in a corner of his heart, and right now, it was exploding out like firecrackers.

But then, with a sudden surge of clarity, Harry pulled back, his hands gently but firmly pushing you away. "Y/N, we can't," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

You looked up at him, confusion in your eyes as you searched his for answers. "But why not?" you whispered, your voice filled with hurt.

Harry's heart ached at the pain in your gaze, but he knew he had to be honest with you, even if it hurt. "Because...because I can't do this to you, Y/N. You're not yourself right now, and I can't take advantage of that."

You stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in as realization dawned upon you. "I...I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to...I’m just–just stupid and–"

Harry reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch tender yet filled with sadness. "It's okay, Y/N. I know you didn't mean to. You’re really high and you should sleep"

You nodded once again, closing your eyes shut and pulling the blanket over you, suddenly feeling cold. He murmured good night, but you were already passed out.

He stood there for a while or two, watching as your mouth dropped open. Your face looked peaceful, and it gave reassurance to him. His heart was pounding in his chest since he found you at the party, and he kept blaming himself for all that happened.

But his heart was at ease now. You were safe, and sleeping beside him.

He couldn’t be happier

. . .

The next morning, you woke up with a heavy weight on your chest, your mind clouded with confusion and regret. As you stumbled out of bed and got ready for class, you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that you didn’t remember what happened last night.

Your steps were slow and hesitant as you made your way to the lecture hall, your heart pounding with anxiety. You were trying to replay all the moments of yesterday back and forth, but the last thing you remembered was drinking a beer and then going for another one, when you had seen 5 already filled cups kept in a tray. Without thinking, you went for that one, and you were now cursing yourself for it.

When you finally reached the classroom, you kept your head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone as you took your seat at the back of the room. You felt like a stranger in your own skin, the weight of guilt and shame bearing down on you.

As the minutes ticked by, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on the lecture, your mind wandering back to the events of the party, precisely to those you didn’t remember. Harry was nowhere to be found, and you wondered if you had misbehaved towards him.

He must regret inviting you in the first place.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice when Harry entered the classroom, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, your face drawn and weary, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy you had exuded the night before.

"Hey, Y/N," Harry said softly, making his way towards you with a hopeful smile. "How are you feeling today?"

You looked up, startled by his sudden appearance, and forced a weak smile. "Hey, Harry. I'm...I'm okay, I guess."

Harry's smile faltered slightly at the hint of sadness in your voice, but he pushed aside his concerns, determined to lift your spirits. "That's good to hear. Listen, about last night..."

But before he could finish his sentence, the professor began the lecture, cutting off their conversation and leaving Harry feeling frustrated and disappointed. You let out a sigh of relief, because you didn’t have to hear about the horrible things you did last night, for an hour at least.

During class, Harry felt uneasy and unsure about where they stood. He kept looking at you, feeling worried when he saw you looking down.

As the lecture came to an end, Harry gathered his things and made his way towards you, 

"Y/N," he said softly again, "Can we talk for a minute?"

You looked up, nodding "Sure, Harry. What's up?"

Harry took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched for the right words. "I just wanted to say...about last night. You were perfect, Y/N. Nothing bad happened, okay?"

You frowned, confusion in your eyes as you tried to make sense of his words. "What do you mean, Harry? I don't remember much from last night."

Harry's heart sank at your admission, a pang of disappointment piercing through him like a knife. "It's...it's nothing, Y/N. Don't worry about it."

But despite his attempt to brush off the conversation, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling of sadness that lingered within him. He knew that he should be grateful that nothing bad had happened between you both, but deep down, he couldn't help but wish that you remembered the kiss you had shared, and the way you made his heart beat faster. He wished you remembered him driving you home, and then being silly around him.

“That’s a huge relief! Oof” 

You said after a while, trusting him on that. He wouldn’t lie to you, you were sure of that.

“Yeah” he replied, forcing a smile, because he was sad.

“Guess I’ll see you later?” you asked, and he nodded.

You collected your materials and stuffed them back into your bag. Checking your schedule, you made your way to your next class, leaving Harry and his thoughts alone.

"But I love you more than words can say,

I can't count the reasons I should stay,

One by one they all just fade away,

But I love you more than words can say."

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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[lovelettersforthedamned]

Let Me Be There, Let Me Be Yours

--genre + trope: fluff, hurt/comfort, slight nsfw, 18+ ONLY MDNI

--pairing: frat!peter parker x f!reader

--word count: 1.7k

--summary: while attending peter's frat party, he realizes he wants to be more than friends with benefits with you after seeing his frat brother harry osborn flirt with you. this leads to an emotional conversation about the future with peter.

--warnings: drinking, mentions of alcohol/alcoholic games, suggestive nsfw, kinda forced drinking, protective!peter, drunk!reader, confession, peter takes care of reader while she's drunk, peter's down bad.

--gif credits: @talkaboutyourday

You can hear the bass bumping through the walls of the fraternity as you make your way up the steps of the porch. The first Delta Chi party of the school year brought in a lot of people this time. You hesitate before opening the door. Why you’re so nervous puzzles you, yet those thoughts are quickly interrupted by the smell of cheap beer and smoke flooding your senses. You look around trying to find any familiar faces.

“(L/N)!” Harry’s voice recognizable over the loud music echoing through the familiar frat. You turn around to find the familiar brunet with a red solo cup in his hand. 

“Harry Osborn,” You taunt back, “Where’s Parker?” 

“I don’t keep tabs on Parker? Who do you think I am, his best friend?” He waves his hand around in the air in a dramatic way. 

“Actually yeah,” You laugh, reaching out for his cup to take a sip, “What’s this?” You take a sip before he can answer you. The familiar burn of the vodka runs down your throat. “Jesus,” You mutter to yourself. 

“Let’s get you an actual drink, then we’ll go find your little boyfriend, Parker,” Harry throws an arm loosely around your shoulder leading you through the house. 

“Since when was he my boyfriend?” You ask, looking up at Harry. He looks down at you with his typical shit-eating smirk and a quirk to his brow. 

“My mistake then, just thought after you guys fucked the last few times he would’ve made it official or something,” he joked. 

“Well-” You laughed, “We’re just fucking.” 

You don’t remember getting to this point of being trashed, but you’re definitely there. One shot turned into two, then Harry offered to take another with you, and another. None of it matters as you finally see Peter grabbing a beer from the fridge. It takes a few ‘Excuse Me's' to eventually reach him, plotting a funny way to sneak up on him in the process, before you poke him on the side of his waist. 

“Jesus fuck,” He turns quickly to look at the culprit, you. You honestly wonder how he didn’t get whiplash from turning that fast, “Are you serious?” 

“Yes, are you serious?” You ask with a laugh. Your cheeks are warm, as you grin up at him. You think you’re the funniest person in the world right now, and Peter is looking at you with confusion, and a bit of amusement written across his face. He’s speechless at your state right now.  

You feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, “Looks like you found him,” Harry teased. 

“Yeah, you sure were a lot of help Osborn.” 

Peter’s eyes dance between you and his best friend's arm that’s thrown casually across your shoulder. He doesn’t know what’s going on between you two, but he has a weird feeling in his stomach about it. It’s teetering on the line between anger and jealousy, but he doesn’t know why. 

Harry sticks his tongue out playfully at you, all you can do is roll your eyes in response. Even though you knew you were pretty plastered right now, you also knew that Harry was not the one you wanted attention from. Being around Peter was easy, and most importantly, simple. What you have with him is strictly a situationship, friends with benefits, maybe. You’re still open to do as you please just as much as he is. 

“How many drinks have you guys had,” Peter asks bluntly. 

“A few,” The brunet answers for you both. You crane your neck up with a puzzled look, he meets your gaze, “What?” 

“A few drinks? Harry, how many shots in are we,” You start counting with your fingers jokingly, you hold up at least 6 fingers, “This is just a few?” 

This makes Peter look between the two of you again, “Hey, maybe we should go get water (Y/N)?” Still looking at Harry’s arm slinged around your frame. 

“Nah, she’s fine,” Harry once again said for you, “Right, (Y/N)?”

You respond with a firm, yet dizzy nod, “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Harry guides you away from Peter, the beer now warm in his hand as he’s been clenching it in his fist the entire time Harry interrupted your brief conversation. He watches as his frat brother leads you to a beer pong table, asking around if anyone wants to play with the two of you. As the game starts, Peter’s already in the background of the crowd watching how you sway as you aim for a cup. As the game goes on, you and Harry gain a lead and ultimately win the game, leaving you to play another round with two new people. Peter has gotten closer to you as viewers disperse to find another form of entertainment. 

The second round started, and Peter can tell that you’re not doing well. There’s a more prominent bend in your knees, almost like you’re about to fold at any minute if you’re not too careful. The other team’s ball flew into a cup right in front of you, Harry insisting on you taking one for the team and chugging it. Maybe it’s because Peter has been watching you all night, but he notices a slight gag as you’re about half way through the drink. 

This is what sets Peter off to approach you, “Maybe it’s time for you to actually get some water, yeah?” Reaching for your elbow to guide you away from the crowd, dragging you into the less populated kitchen. 

“Parker, how many times…how many times do I have to tell you that I am fine,” you sluggishly reply, trying to pull away but ultimately failing. 

“Peter, at this point you’re just killing the vibe,” Harry’s voice chimes in as he makes his way into the room, “Just go find someone else to bother, you’re interrupting us.” A smirk is on his face at that last bit, knowing he’s struck a nerve in Peter. 

“Honestly Osborn, shut the fuck up,” Peter snaps. This pulls you out of your drunken haze, your eyes now locking onto the guys in front of you. 

Harry just laughs, “Whoa, calm down Pete,” he raises his hands in defense. 

“No Harry seriously, just get the fuck out of here,” Peter turns his back to his best friend and grabs your wrist, “Let’s go.” 

“You’re not my boyfriend Parker,” You snap, ripping your arm from his grasp. 

“Well you’re not letting me be your fucking boyfriend,” He quips. 

“We’re just fucking, you made that clear since the beginning.” 

Peter runs a hand through his hair, “I made that clear? You’re the one that-fuck,” He rubs a hand across his jaw in frustration, “Let’s go.” He grabs your wrist once again dragging you from the kitchen, he doesn’t falter when his shoulder rams into Harrys. He pulls you across the house and up the stairs to his room, despite your complaints. 

“What the fuck-” 

“I’m the one that made it clear?” He questions, now clearly frustrated, “You’re the one eye-fucking every guy in the room, (L/N).” 

“Because I fucking can, like I said you’re not my fucking boyfriend! You don’t have that jurisdiction Peter!” You raise your voice. 

“Because you won’t let me,” He spits out calmly. The tension in the room doubles, his new tone making the room feel small.

“Because I don’t fucking know how!” Your chest heaving with rage. Your eyes melting into his hazel set, “I don’t know how,” you repeat quieter. At this point your drunken haze has completely left you with a sick hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach. Peter just stares at you, unable to form words. The seconds tick by painfully slow, you become nervous as they pass. “Can you just say something Parker-actually fuck this,” you cut yourself off, turning to grab the door handel. 

“I-I’m sorry,” He stutters, “I just don’t know what to say.” 

“Figures,” You laugh sarcastically. 

“Look (Y/N), we could make this work if you just let me in,” Peter says. 

“I can’t.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m scared, Pete,” You glance at the floor with a sigh “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“I can take it.” 

You laugh,“I just can’t.” 

He walks over to you, “Please,” he whispers, “I want to be with you.” 

You turn to finally look at him, tears clinging to your lashes, you give him a sad smile as your eyes melt into his. 

“Please,” He asks again, “Just let me try, just give us a try.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you Pete, I can’t do that to you.” 

“It’s fine,” A grin etching its way onto his face, “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.” He brings his hand up, cradling your cheek in his palm, wiping away the stray tear, “Just let me be there, let me be yours.” 

You bring your hand to lay on top of his to keep the contact for just a bit longer, “Yeah,” you sniffle before you nod with a grin, “Fine, but if it becomes too much, you have to let it go.” 

“You’ll never be too much for me.” 

“Should we head downstairs?” You suggest, wiping the rest of ur tears. 

Peter opens the door letting you walk out first, “Yeah, I think I need to talk to Harry real quick before I walk you home.”

As if right on cue Harry appears at the bottom of the stairs, “Yo, Parker! What I did was out of line, my bad dude. It won’t happen again.” 

“Nah, it’s alright,” He says out loud before pulling him in for a quick side hug, “Don’t mess with her again like that, alright? Everyone else is fair game, not her though.” 

A quick nod is shared between the brothers before you head out, walking back to your apartment, since it’s only a few minutes away. You and Peter aren’t simple, and you aren’t a situationship. You are navigating your way through each other’s lives, together. 

--author's note: HEY!!! you guys love peter so much, and i love him so much that i had to go write about him again. really in my frat!peter era, so here's my take on this beautiful AU. shoutout to @webslingingslasher for being an absolute god in all things frat!peter, im obsessed. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support your writers!! ok ily, bye<3.

[weirdkpopgirl]

Embrace | Haechan Imagine #8

Title: Embrace

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Warnings: vague mentions of reader struggling with insomnia

Word Count: 616

Author's Note: This story was inspired by my bad habit of not going to sleep, even when I'm tired lol. It's not like I do it on purpose, but my mind just cries out for a distraction sometimes. I don't know how to explain it. Anyway if any of you can relate to this, I hope this story can give you some comfort ^ ^

─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─

In the quiet space of your apartment, you were sprawled out on the couch as your thumb absentmindedly scrolled through the world of social media. Every so often, your eyes subconsciously flickered to the time on the left corner of the screen, reminding you that one a.m. was now closely bordering two.

The back of your mind was screaming at you to go to sleep, thinking of all the things you were supposed to do the following day. Yet, the apprehension of not being able to fall asleep made you hesitate. The fear wasn’t large, but enough to keep you trapped in the scrolling abyss, a dance between fatigue and distraction.

Eventually, you heard the soft echoes of your boyfriend’s slippers padding against the wooden floor, drawing him closer to where you were stationed. Rubbing his eyes, he approached you with a slight frown on his lips. 

“Baby, it’s late. Why are you still up?” Haechan murmured with a touch of concern in his voice. 

Although he was accustomed to being awake in the odd hours due to his work, seeing you deviate from a regular sleep schedule puzzled him.

You glanced up at him with weary eyes. “Just can’t seem to quiet my mind,” you muttered with a small shrug.

Haechan sighed as he witnessed you fight back a yawn. He moved to sit beside you for a moment and gently removed your phone from your hands and set it down on the coffee table.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” he said, taking your hand in his. “Maybe I can help you relax.”

Reluctantly, you gave in and allowed him to guide you to the bedroom. The subtle glow of the lamp on your nightstand casted a gentle ambiance in the room. Once you were tucked under the soft comforter, Haechan settled down beside you.

“Close your eyes, baby,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you in a comfortable position. 

His lips brushed against your temple, sending a tingling shock down your spine. The warmth of his touch prompted you to snuggle closer, your head finding the perfect spot on his chest. The echoes of his steady heartbeat were calming and the warmth of his embrace gradually melted away any troublesome thoughts that lingered within you.

You let out a heavy exhale before mumbling, “You really have a way of making everything feel okay.”

Haechan chuckled and brushed back a lock of hair behind your ear. The corners of his lips curled into a small smirk.

“Of course, you just happen to have the most caring, loving, and devastatingly handsome boyfriend,” he said, flashing you a teasing smile.

You knew he was only joking. But as his words sank in through your mind, you recognized the truth in them. The longer you were with Haechan, the more you realized that you didn’t know what you’d do without him in your life.

Instinctively, your hand drifted to cradle his face, lightly tracing over the moles adorning his cheek. Gazing into his eyes, a sense of vulnerability washed over you.

“You’re right. I do,” you quietly admitted.

Caught off guard by your serious response, Haechan’s heart ached at your simple words. This overwhelming surge of deep love and affection he had for you hit him all at once. Without holding back, he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss. You stayed like this for a while, before breaking away with a smile. The two of you eventually succumbed to sleep, peacefully nestled in each other’s embrace.

─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─❀*̥˚─

[finleycannotdraw]

Goldenheart question. Who do you think proposes? Ballister or Ambrosius?

Bonus on how they would do it? ✌️🌈

OKAY SO. I thought about this for like five minutes. decided something. and then I changed my mind like five times. and then I was like “hmm. fic time”

I know you just asked for my thoughts but I hope you enjoy this!!

Ballister had a plan.

He loved Ambrosius. Of course he did. He’d loved him when they were classmates at the Institute, loved him when they snuck onto the roof at night to talk, loved him when they became knights, and loved him when the wall came down. He’d loved him for as long as he could remember, so of course he loved him when he looked up from his crossword puzzle and saw Ambrosius dancing in the kitchen, wearing a pair of Ballister’s pajama pants, holding a pancake batter-covered spatula and looking more carefree than he’d looked in months.

He’d marry Ambrosius in a heartbeat. He’d get on a train right then and elope with him if he asked, but he thought his partner deserved something bigger, something romantic, something grand and joyful after all of the stress and responsibility he’d been shouldering since the Director’s demise.

Hence, The Plan.

Nimona had been… mostly helpful. Ballister approached her one afternoon, after Ambrosius had left for work, and sat down across from her. Since the three of them had moved into an apartment together, Nimona had gotten much more comfortable relaxing, which warmed Ballister’s heart.

“What’s up, boss?”

“I want to ask Ambrosius—” he began, and Nimona sat up straight, immediately invested.

“To marry you?” she exclaimed. “Yes. Do it. Why haven’t you done it already.”

Ballister blinked. “I thought you’d be more hesitant about this,” he said slowly. “You used to hate him.”

Nimona waved her hand dismissively. “Ehhh. The past is the past, and all that jazz. Speaking of jazz—”

“No.”

“Ugh, whatever. You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I didn’t need to.”

“You’re horrible. Anyway, I hated him when all I knew about him was that he cut off your arm. That was before I’d lived with you guys for a year. And it would be pretty hypocritical of me not to be open to changing my opinions about somebody. He makes you happy. You should totally marry him.”

Ballister smiled. “Thank you, Nimona.”

She scoffed affectionately. “Sure, boss.”

And a plan—namely, The Plan, which was the whole point—formed.

Nimona and Ballister flew all over the city looking for parks and possible activities, such as restaurants or shows. Most people had gotten fairly used to the pair of them flying around, Nimona sprouting wings and carrying Ballister above the streets, so they didn’t worry about staying out of sight.

If Ambrosius noticed or thought it was suspicious that Nimona and Ballister constantly went out together and didn’t talk to him about any of it, he didn’t comment. The three of them still had their movie nights and game nights, and Nimona and Ambrosius still had their terrifyingly intense card games (War, Go Fish, Crazy Eights, and several games Ballister had never heard of) that Ballister was forbidden from joining, so altogether not much had changed.

One thing that did change, though, was how often he paused, watched Ambrosius do something completely ordinary, and thought ‘I want to marry this man.’ It happened more and more with each passing day, until Ballister very nearly proposed to him when he walked into the apartment and found Ambrosius standing with his feet on two separate chairs, about three feet apart, holding a collection of colorful paper streamers above his head while Nimona, in the form of a small monkey, perched on the top of his head and put them in place on the wall.

Ballister stared at them for a long moment before he said, very confusedly: “There wasn’t a more efficient way to do this?”

Ambrosius and Nimona turned at the same time, both looking quite delighted despite their precarious position atop the chairs.

“We’re just mixing it up!” they both replied. Ballister looked around. The living room was covered in party decorations and newspaper, and Ballister thought he’d never seen more glitter in his life. He pictured Ambrosius buying a basket full of glitter for whatever party Nimona was planning on throwing, and wouldn’t have been surprised if his heart actually melted.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked.

“I asked Nimona when her birthday was,” Ambrosius explained. “She said she didn’t have one.”

“And if I do, I don’t remember when it is,” Nimona added. Ambrosius threw his hands out to the sides in an emphasizing gesture.

“Which means she’s never had a birthday party,” he continued. “So we decided that today’s her birthday and we’re having a party.”

“Which is just going to be like a normal night except with decorations,” Nimona said. “The glitter was Goldilocks’ idea.”

Ballister raised his eyebrows, and Ambrosius shrugged unabashedly, then turned back to finish putting up the streamers.

Marry me, Ballister thought.

Within the next week, he had everything figured out. He’d looked at the weather for the next few days, planned where they’d go and when, and had even bought a ring, which he’d hidden in his extra pair of running shoes and shoved under the bed. If Ambrosius noticed that Ballister seemed extra nervous or more likely to become agitated if he spent too long in the bedroom by himself, he didn’t comment.

So yes. Ballister had a plan, and it was much more concrete than ‘something something something, we win’. He didn’t have a script, but he had just about everything else. Nothing could possibly get in his way now.

Or so he thought.

One night—there was nothing particularly special about it; they’d had dinner with Nimona, danced and laughed while cleaning the kitchen, and kissed while getting ready for bed—Ballister and Ambrosius were snuggled up together under their blankets. Ballister’s prosthetic arm was hanging from its charger on the wall, so he couldn’t hold Ambrosius as close as he would’ve liked, but the blond knight was lying with his head on Ballister’s shoulder, which gave him room to wrap his left arm around his partner’s back.

Ambrosius moved to tangle his legs with Ballister’s and gave his middle a squeeze, causing Ballister to smile up at the dark ceiling. If he paid attention, he could hear quiet music through the walls from Nimona’s room, and the moon was shining brightly through the window. Ballister carded his fingers through Ambrosius’ hair and breathed deeply.

Ambrosius, after several minutes, pushed himself up onto his elbow so that he could see Ballister’s face. Ballister’s arm slid naturally to rest around his waist, and he wished he had his prosthetic so that he could tap Ambrosius on the nose. Whenever he did so, Ambrosius’ face would scrunch up in the most adorable way possible, and Ballister had no choice but to kiss him.

“Hey,” Ambrosius whispered, as though Ballister hadn’t already been giving him his full attention.

“Hi,” he said in the same quiet tone, and matched Ambrosius’ answering smile. They bumped their noses together and giggled, and Ambrosius flopped to the side, landing on his own pillow. Ballister freed his arm and laced their fingers together, and Ambrosius brought their joined hands to his lips, then rested them on his chest and stroked Ballister’s hand with his thumb.

“Bal?” he said, tilting his head to the side to look into Ballister’s eyes, which he was quite honestly struggling to keep open.

“Hm?”

“Will you marry me?” Ambrosius asked softly, simply, his gaze full of love, exactly the way Ballister had been fighting the urge to ask him for weeks.

“Oh, come on!” he exclaimed, and got out of bed to grab the ring box from his shoe, forgetting that Ambrosius had no idea what he was doing until he sat up, looking worried.

“Bal?” he said again, this time much more guarded. “I’m sorry, what—”

“I was going to propose to you!” Ballister interrupted, opened the box, and shoved it towards his gobsmacked partner, who stared at it in utter shock before looking back to Ballister’s eyes. “I had a plan! And it wasn’t ‘something something something, we win’!”

Ambrosius’ eyes were shiny. “Was it more like, ‘something something something, marry me?’”

Ballister laughed surprisedly and leaned over to plant a kiss on Ambrosius’ lips. “Yes,” he said. “Well, no. I didn’t have a speech.”

“Hence the something-something-something,” Ambrosius teased. “You know, you never answered my—”

“Yes, good Gloreth, yes, I’ll marry you,” Ballister interrupted again. “Though I think you could’ve inferred that from learning that I was going to ask you the same question.”

Ambrosius laughed tearfully, and Ballister kissed him again.

“I’m not taking your last name, though,” he added moments later. “As funny as it is.”

“Nimona would kill you,” Ambrosius agreed. “So would I, probably. I don’t want to keep my last name either. It made for some good jokes, but other than that—”

“Well, Boldheart is nice, but it wasn’t my birth name. You know the Queen gave it to me at the ceremony because somebody—probably the Director—said that Blackheart sounded too dark for a knight?”

“Right,” Ambrosius mused. “What should we do, then?”

“We could combine our last names,” Ballister suggested. “We could be Ambrosius and Ballister—”

“Goldenheart,” Ambrosius finished, and wrapped his arms around Ballister, shaking with laughter, tears, and joy. “I love it.”

“I love you,” Ballister told him, and there was very little talking for the rest of the night.

When morning came, they headed into the kitchen in their pajamas and found Nimona already up, sitting at the table with her headphones on. She appeared to be drawing—likely another action scene with herself as a large animal with Ballister and/or Ambrosius as her murderous accomplice—and didn’t look up as they entered.

“Morning, Nim,” Ambrosius said as he made his way to the coffee machine.

“Goldilocks.” She acknowledged him with a nod, then raised her eyebrows. “Sleep well?”

Ballister held his crossword puzzle up and hid his face behind it while Ambrosius nearly dropped the coffee pot. They both knew that Nimona was over a thousand years old and there was probably very little she hadn’t seen, and even less she wasn’t aware of, but she was so good at acting like a teenager that it was quite easy to forget. She watched their awkward reactions and snickered, but her eyes widened as her attention zeroed in on something on or beside Ambrosius’ hand.

“So, who snapped first?” she asked pleasantly, a wide grin forming on her face.

“Me,” Ambrosius admitted without turning around. “Wait. Who snapped first? You knew he was planning—”

“You knew he was—” Ballister began too, and they both stopped and stared at each other.

Nimona just burst out laughing.

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 11 - Prompt: Cauldron @jegulus-microfic

December Daily Series - 499 words

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

“Sirius?”

“Hmm?”

Regulus tapped the window lightly to get his brother’s attention. “Is he alright?”

Sirius leaned up onto his knees from his bed and lifted his chin. A frown knitted his eyebrows together. As he studied the situation, Regulus watched James’s prone form.

Normally, when someone fell as dramatically as he had, it would be a cause for concern. However, the sheer number of times that James had lost his balance this weekend alone made him hesitate. The bloke was remarkably uncoordinated for an athlete.

“He’s fine,” Sirius decided, settling back against his pillows. “If he was hurt, Padfoot would be dancing around and barking like mad.”

Regulus hadn’t given the bear-shaped “dog” any consideration, but now that he mentioned it, the animal was sitting next to James rather calmly. In the short time he’d been around it, the dog had leapt on him a half dozen times and barked more than that. If it wasn’t so large, he wouldn’t mind giving it a pat, but it was too big to be so aggressively insistent.

“Is he always like this?”

Sirius nodded, then glanced up. “Wait, James or Padfoot?”

Regulus rolled his eyes and gestured at the window. “Your friend has spent more time on his back than upright over the last two days.”

When his brother cackled, Regulus threw a pillow at his face. “You knew what I meant, pervert.”

“Oof!” Sirius swatted the pillow away and huffed. “Considering you’re the reason he hit the ground at least twice, I’d say that’s more of a you problem.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that he’s flustered around you. Pads likely tripped him up just now, but it’s certainly not a daily occurrence.”

Regulus watched as James finally hauled himself to his feet. Granted, he had contributed to his fall on the ice, but James’s trip into the bushes during the snowball fight seemed a bit more intentional. He accepted that the dog was a factor this time, but it was becoming a pattern.

Don’t you dare turn this into a puzzle.

He couldn’t resist a puzzle. It was a weakness that he indulged in selfishly, particularly when it was related to a fit bloke. That was his favourite kind.

“What are you up to?” Sirius asked, circling his hand in Regulus’s direction. “What’s this face?”

“I’m not making a face.”

“Mm-hmm. You’ve forgotten how well I know you. This reminds me of the face you made when you were whipping up ‘poisonous concoctions’ in your toy cauldron. You were…what? Six?”

Regulus smirked at the memory. “Four, I think. I loved that toy.”

“Never understood why mother bought it for you. She was adamantly against ‘improper toys.’”

“Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella,” he corrected. “I think Narcissa told them it was a chemistry set.” He shrugged as he leaned against the window frame. “Mother wouldn’t risk offending them by chucking it.”

Sirius rolled over and aimed a pointed look at him. “Right. So, why this current deviousness?”

“It’s nothing. Relax.”

“Liar.”

Liar.

Next Part>>>

[vizkopa]

Celestial (FallenAngel!Doflamingo x Reader) CHAPTER 12

Chapter 12: The Flamingo and the Hawk

~

You woke one early morning toward the end of summer from a dream about… wings? You thought it was wings at least. The details were already fuzzy and only became more so as you roused to full consciousness.

You felt the figure beside you begin to stir and you turned over. For the smallest fraction of a second, you were confused by the messy black hair against the white pillow. You weren’t sure who you’d been expecting. Maybe the dream had just left you disorientated.

“Good morning,” said the low, husky voice, a tattooed hand sliding over the curve of your hip.

“Morning,” you yawned back. “I had such a weird dream.”

“What about?” Law asked, rolling to fully face you. He looked like sin with the dark ink of his tattoos snaking over his arms and chest, down to where the sheets lay twisted over his lap.

“I… don’t remember… It just left me with a weird feeling, you know?”

Law hummed, his eyes already falling closed again.

You very much would have liked to join him in sleep again, but you couldn’t shake the strange dream. The more you tried to remember the details, the more they seemed to dance just out of reach, and after a few long moments staring at the patterns of sunlight playing across the ceiling, you decided to get up.

You dressed as quickly and quietly as you could, then made your way downstairs. The dream gnawed at the edges of your mind and you thought maybe a trip into town to pick up coffee and breakfast would be a welcome distraction.

You scribbled a short note for Law in case he woke before you returned and caught up your keys from the hall table. You checked yourself in the mirror by the door, taming the unruly mess of hair as best you could with one hand, clicking your tongue in mild annoyance at the rather obvious hickey Law had left below your ear the night before. Thank God it was the holidays and you didn’t have to face Nami’s judgmental stares.

It was then you became aware of a presence. As you laid your hand on the door handle, you had the distinct impression that someone was waiting just beyond it, as if they had just hesitated in the process of raising their hand to knock. You held your breath for a few long seconds, waiting. The presence remained, but they made no move. Why didn’t they knock? Under your breath, you counted to three, then flung the door wide.

The threshold was empty. The presence you’d felt was gone. You stuck your head out the door and looked around, but the yard was empty, not even a rustle of wind to disturb the morning heat. You ducked back inside and it was then you saw it. On the doormat, catching your eye with its vibrant colour in the bright light of the summer morning, was a single, pink feather.

You bent to pick it up and you felt that presence again, a prickling on the back of your neck, but by the time you straightened again, it was gone. Puzzled, you examined the tiny feather. Artificially dyed—it had to be. There weren’t any native birds in the area with that colour. Maybe you’d had a particularly eccentric mail carrier that morning. But no, it was Sunday, and there was no letter waiting for you on your threshold.

A breeze picked up, warm and smelling of wildflowers, and you let it carry the feather away, putting it from your mind as you shut and locked the door tightly behind you.

* * * * *

“What do you want to be for the staff Halloween party?”

Law crinkled his nose, setting down his third cup of coffee of the morning on the kitchen counter. “You really want to go to that?”

“Of course! We need matching costumes too.”

He smirked. “I see. You want to make a statement.”

You blushed. “I just think it’s time we maybe make a public appearance as, you know, a couple, I guess,” you muttered.

Law laughed and tugged you into his arms. “You just want to stop that new economics teacher from flirting with me, don’t you, [Name]-ya?”

“I would be lying if I said it wasn’t at least part of the reason.”

For some unknown reason you could not fathom, you had been reluctant to give what you and Law had a label. It had been nice during the summer when there had been no pressure or judgmental stares, but now school had resumed, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the faculty would have to know. You dreaded the HR meeting. Nami had already caused a scene when you had told her and it had been a feat in itself to keep her from gossiping all over the school. At least Robin could be trusted to keep a secret. Oh, the lives librarians could destroy if they ever had the inclination…

“So, any costume ideas?”

“Hmm, how about I be a doctor and you can be my sexy nurse?” Law smirked, grabbing playfully at your butt.

As you swatted his hand away, you felt that familiar prickling at the back of your neck once again. You ignored it.

“I think Nami has already claimed sexy nurse,” you laughed.

“Then I got nothing. How about you surprise me?”

As so it was that an angel and a devil arrived hand in hand to the party. Law had seemed overly amused when you handed him his horns and devil tail earlier than night for reasons you could not ascertain. He had at least shown profuse appreciation for the—frankly— sacrilegious length of your dress though, which had almost made you late.

Your arrival, as expected, invited a barrage of questions. Law muttered in your ear something about going to fetch drinks, and you looked on helplessly as he left you to fend for yourself.

Asshole.

You supposed it could have been worse. At least there was a chance your colleagues were drunk enough already that they wouldn’t even remember come morning. Though it wouldn’t save you from the dreaded HR meeting. Thankfully, Nami and Robin came to rescue you.

“Where’s Law?” Nami asked when she had finally dragged you away from the throng of nosy faculty.

“Getting us drinks. Nice costumes.”

Nami, as always, was the envy of everyone in the room in a nurse costume even more scandalously short than yours. And Robin was ravishing, as always, in a Cleopatra costume that you had no doubt was historically accurate down to the last minute detail.

It was then that the feeling of being watched came over you once again, but this time when you looked up, there was someone watching you. A man stood at the opposite end of the room, an untouched drink in his hand.

“Who’s that?” You nudged Nami and jerked your head in the direction of the man.

She frowned. “No clue. Maybe he’s a plus one?”

She was probably right. He was in costume at least, looking like some kind of musketeer in a knee-length coat and feathered hat. You ignored him and tried to enjoy the party even as the back of your neck prickled.

It was half an hour before you realised you were still without your date. Where had Law gotten to? Just as you turned to go in search of him, you were met with a firm chest. You looked up into the face of the man who had been watching you earlier.

“May I have this dance?” His voice was accented but you couldn’t place it.

You had barely opened your mouth to answer before he was sweeping you away into the crowd of dancing couples.

“Do I know you?”

The man’s eyes were an unusual golden yellow, like a hawk’s. You found you couldn’t look away.

“No. But we share a mutual acquaintance.”

You only blinked at him. His grip on your hand tightened and you winced, a thrill of fear suddenly running through you. He leaned closer, the mesmerising gold of his eyes glittering with a menacing light.

“Tell me where Dophiel is and I won’t kill you in front of your colleagues.”

Your blood turned to ice in your veins. You tried to jerk your hand back but his hold was like iron.

“You’re insane. Let me go.” You glanced around helplessly but none of the other dancers seemed to notice your increasing panic. You opened your mouth to call for Law but the strange man tugged you hard against his chest, squeezing the air from your lungs until your head spun.

“Scream and you’ll be dead before you can draw breath again,” he hissed in your ear. “Now tell me, foul witch, where you are harbouring your Fallen lover.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you gasped. “I don’t know anyone called Dophiel. Please, just let me go!”

He drew back slightly, his hand still clamped tight at your waist as he gazed into your eyes. It felt as if he was looking right through you.

“Interesting,” he said. “A strong ward indeed.”

You almost fell over as he let go of your waist but were kept upright by the iron strong grip on your wrist.

“Let’s see if we can’t tempt the traitor from hiding then, hm?”

You clawed at his fingers as he dragged you along, eyes raking the room desperately for someone—anyone—that could help you. Where was Law? Where was… The name died on your lips before you’d even uttered it. Who? Who else was there? Why was it your first instinct to call out a name you couldn’t even remember?

The man tugged you roughly up four flights of stairs until he reached the locked door to the roof. With as much ease as twisting off a bottle cap, the lock snapped under his hand and then the cool October night air was buffeting your face.

He shoved you before him onto the roof. The wind whipped at your bare legs, the feathers of your dress tickling your thighs as they erupted in goosebumps. The door slammed behind him, cutting off the faint sounds of the party floors below.

You stared at each other across the rooftop. There was no way out for you. He was blocking the only exit.

“Who the fuck are you? Did you do something to Law?”

He prowled towards you. “You mean your demon boyfriend? I made sure he won’t interrupt us.”

A new wave of fear coursed through you. If Law was hurt…

“As for who I am… I am a soldier and I am only obeying orders.” He grasped you by the neck, squeezing harshly, and began dragging you across the rooftop. Your feet scrabbled at the concrete, fingers tearing uselessly at his hands. He stopped just before the edge, holding you at arm’s length above the long drop to the black tarmac below. Your heart was a jackhammer in your chest, your feet reaching desperately for even an inch of purchase on the parapet.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “Why?” you sobbed. The cold wind whipped at your bare legs.

Golden eyes fixed yours in a cold glare. “Because you are the only thing he cannot bear to lose.”

And with that, he let go. You seemed to hang there in the air for a fraction of a second as you clawed in vain for purchase on something, anything, then the air began to rush around your ears and a scream was ripped from your throat as you plummeted toward the ground far below.

[asherlockstudy]

Oh my gosh, I agree with everything you said about the not-kiss at the end of the vows, especially the unwillingness when forced by the 'plot'. Because the way Rhett said '*if* we feel like it' sounded sarcastic, as if he was saying 'yeah right, *if* we feel like it, meanwhile there's all this peer pressure from all you guys looking at us and from the moment', and he flapped his palm in a kind of dejected way like 'if we must...', but then Link kissed Elvis very pointedly (and cute, I might add, he was being a sweetheart), so the moment got diffused. There's a lot of layers to this; Rhett absolutely doesn't want to perform for the shippers in a 'dance monkey' way (which is weird when you think about the whole premise of GME...), but I also think in a way he was blowing this out of proportion... like you said, they didn't have to kiss on the lips, and he did peck Link on the cheek just a few weeks ago, no harm no foul. So I wonder if his unwillingness also stemmed from something else, maybe from the loaded meaning of the moment, because to him it might feel more disingenuous to do it when there's meaning behind it. And what puzzles me most of all is why... because no matter what goes on behind curtains, no matter how he feels about being manipulated by the environment, it's still something quite innocuous, and brings me back to pondering if he's actually just really far into the closet (and actually not at all in the way we imagine him to be with Link especially) and I kind of hate that thought.... Because Link, the neuro-atypical, awkward, the supposed one-who-will-get-them-cancelled was so normal about it (Link generally strikes me as being way more affectionate, and tactile in general). The other thing that puzzled me was Rhett's surprised look when Link went in for the hug; he raised his brows and was all like 'ah yes, hug', as if he was momentarily preoccupied in his thoughts and that the fact that Link went for a hug shook him out of them. He did it almost perfunctorily, and then immediately performed for the camera by turning and looking at the crew, while in contrast Link closed his eyes and relished it for a heartbeat. Rhett's whole manner in the end was so bizarre, I think he made Link feel self-conscious about it, in a rare twist of roles. I keep re-watching it and I'm like, what the heck, they've been friends for 40 years, they've been schoolmates, roommates, co-creators, co-workers, they maybe a heck of a lot more behind closed doors, why do they have to act so bizarrely around each other xD

The way I see it is that Rhett pointed "IF we feel like it" to pass a message to Link that he wasn't eager to do this. Look at them closely at that moment, as they stall awkwardly, Rhett looks somewhere down and to Link's right, he doesn't meet his eyes and Link examines his face, takes the hint and promptly goes for a kiss to Elvis to diffuse the awkwardness. To me Rhett looks completely relieved when Link takes the initiative to offer *just* a hug.

Rhett has a pattern of not meeting Link's eyes when he doesn't want things to escalate due to Link's potential misjudgement. Here's an older example:

Gif by @mythicasualty

I said in the original post that Link was so considerate and quick-thinking there, and he was, however I found it interesting that he made a point to say in GMMORE that he went into that Elvis peck too hard and too aggressively. Was he genuinely surprised at his own impulse or was he consciously trying to convey his frustration for Rhett's persistent hesitation and backpedalling?

I think you are right, perhaps Link felt self-conscious which is why he reacted strongly and then analyzed openly his intensity, perhaps in order to immediately pass the message to Rhett.

They have confirmed Link is the "egyo" or cute one anyway in this relationship, but I want to believe that Rhett is really that repressed and not that he is pretending to Link. It looks worrisome sometimes but there are also so many times Rhett's extremely needy and struggles to hide it. I think he is repressed and selfish which makes it hard for him to be vulnerable and affectionate but I still think he is way more vulnerable and affectionate with Link than he is with other people in his life. The positive is that he has admitted these issues himself so I suppose he has the will to change it but it is very hard. I can't expect much when he still looks terrified those rare times his father is on screen...

I suppose we ought to see what he's been doing in the scripted videos and Wonderhole now as a total breakthrough for him (let alone it's him writing this stuff mostly) and it's his method to gradually work his way where Link already is mentally. We can't say he does not try... but he is not ready to be spontaneous just yet with the pressure of "always being watched". I believe this was the metaphor used in the UNhaunted house video btw. Rhett was frantically looking for a house that would 10000% not have any "ghost" so he could spend some time alone with Link in peace. But the place was haunted after all (AKA they weren't in privacy and were exposed?) and it got them killed basically confirming Rhett's concerns.

On the other hand I think it's also the other thing you said - they truly value their friendship and perhaps kissing for the shippers at the moment of celebrating 40 years of their partnership would be them making the segment even more frivolous than it was. So it's a lot of things that made him shut down.

[dreamstone28737]

For the Fanfiction Work-In-Progress Guessing Game: light.

You’re not going to believe this, but I’m just seeing this Ask for the very first time a whole month later. I’m so sorry I missed it!

(It’s been so long I’m trying to remember what the game was!! I think if you guess a word that’s in my WIP, I post the sentence it’s from??)

So, for you, I’ll dip into that long-untouched Poldark fic! It’s the same one as last time - the one in which Demelza and Ross divorced after his tryst with Elizabeth. (They end up getting back together!) I actually have two sections written that include the word “light.”

(And I never can keep things short, so it’s way more than one sentence each.)

Thank you so much for the ask, friend!

1. The first one is Demelza having a talk with Sam about how she’s doing in the immediate aftermath of the break up. It’s sad, because I was in a very sad place when I wrote it two years ago. (Actually, reading it again now, I don’t even really recognize my own writer’s voice in it!)

Sam had tried preaching to her for a while about the blessings of the Lord, but finally one day she'd blown up at him, told him to stop being a minister and just try being a friend, please.

Surprisingly, he'd gotten the message. They'd had a real talk.

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror, lately, sister? It's like-" he'd paused. Hesitated - "It's like the light's gone out of you."

"It feels like that," she'd said flatly, not meeting his eyes.

"D'you sing?" He'd persevered. "You always used to sing. D'you dance while you cook or clean? D'you even laugh?" She hadn't responded, and he went on. "I know ye've had your heart broken, sister. But there's still so much good in the world. There's no reason for you to walk around this earth half alive."

And this one is an upsetting bit of foreshadowing, when Ross and Demelza are together. He pulls Demelza close and she notices that he smells different. (Spoiler alert - she’s smelling Elizabeth’s perfume 😬)

"Just bein' silly," Demelza repeated, smiling, though she could feel that her brow was still knitted, as though her subconscious was still trying to work out the riddle. “You smell different, is all."

Ross drew back, meeting her eyes. "I what?"

"Yeah, like...some kind of flower maybe? I can't tell if it's the new laundry soap or something else." She shrugged, and said with a light laugh, "I don't know. I can't place it."

Was his glance suddenly far away? He had gone still against her, and she couldn't think why he'd be as bothered by it as she was. Perhaps, like her, he was just puzzling it out. Something in her wanted to change the mood, and she patted his chest lightly before pulling away.

"I'm thinkin' a roast for dinner. How's that sound to you?"

[adrift-in-thyme]

YOOO congrats on your follower milestone!!! ❤️❤️ You're fantastic

If it's ok, could I request a snippet of maybe Four and Hyrule interacting??

THANK YOU 💖💖

This was originally gonna be fluffy but then I got to thinking about the possible effects of the Four Sword and things got out of hand XD Anyway, thanks for the prompt! I hope you like what I came up with!

(Fic beneath the cut)

Also on Ao3

—————————

In the wake of the battle, he’s shaking.

Four kneels on the ground amongst the rubble and smoke and splotches of his and Rulie’s blood upon the soft dirt, and he stares down at his trembling hands. Every breath comes short and fast, little more than desperate hiccups to try and bring air into his lungs. The pungent taste of bile is strong on his tongue, courtesy of the stomach acid he expelled just a moment ago.

It shouldn’t be like this, he thinks as the world smudges and blurs before his straining eyes. It shouldn’t. They were victorious. So why…

But even as he catches a glimpse of the traveler sheathing his sword and dusting off his hands, even as he looks around at the corpses of the monsters they defeated, he still can’t stop trembling.

And he supposes he does know why. The answer is right in front of him, after all. It’s in the way his vision dances with colors of four, the way he feels like a puzzle someone knocked off a table, then put back together all wrong.

It’s because he had to split.

It’s never an easy act, letting the Four Sword divide him. Being torn apart like that—emotions separated and solidified into beings in their own right—it’s excruciating. Excruciating and exhausting, nauseating and disorienting. More often than not, it messes Four up for days.

Still, he does it, if only when it’s absolutely necessary. And being spit out in the middle of a monster camp certainly rendered it so today. Usually, he and Hyrule are more than capable of taking down such beasts without issue, but these were empowered by the Shadow’s blood and it had been nearly impossible to defeat them. He’d known what he had to do, there hadn’t been any doubt. And he doesn’t regret it. Splitting had turned the tables.

But…well, it would be nice not having to deal with the aftermath.

He brushes at his eyes to clear the tears he didn’t even realize were there. Anger surges through him without warning—fury at the situation, at himself for being incapable of handling it. But it’s followed just as quickly by soul-crushing sorrow (though at what he can’t truly tell). And following on its tail is the unignorable knowledge that focusing on these inconsequential emotions is not the way he should be spending his time at the moment.

He needs to get up and check on Hyrule, then scout the area to ensure it’s truly devoid of threats. Yet, he feels incapable of doing anything more than merely sitting here, crumbling.

“Smithy?”

He drags his gaze upward and Hyrule is already there standing before him, worry displayed plainly across his features.

“Are you hurt?”

Four shakes his head. A few minor injuries are all he sustained somehow. And he should be grateful for it—he is grateful for it—though it’s hard to be much of anything right now.

“Need a hand, then?”

Hyrule’s hand comes into view and after a short hesitation, Four takes it. The traveler helps him to his feet and Four stumbles a bit, as the world dips beneath his feet.

“I’m fine,” he manages in response to Hyrule’s look of alarm. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it and chances a step forward. “We should get out of here before…before more come.”

“Yeah.” Hyrule nods, gaze breaking from Four just long enough to roam the surrounding area. “Monsters usually camp out near some sort of cave, so let’s look for one. Can you walk?”

He can, Four guesses, though movement still feels like an insurmountable feat. Especially now that the turbulent emotions have begun to dim, turning instead to exhausted numbness.

But he nods anyway and plods after Hyrule as the traveler starts forward.

Just as Hyrule said, a cave is situated a short distance away. Four stumbles inside, relieved to have a place to rest. His legs give way almost instantly.

The cool stone tilts beneath him and he squeezes his eyes shut. If he wills it perhaps he’ll be able to breathe. If he tries hard enough perhaps he’ll feel whole again.

He knows it’ll happen eventually. He’s done this too many times to deny that knowledge. It’s only a matter of being patient and gently nudging the pieces of himself back into their appropriate places. Still, in this moment that task appears daunting and endless.

He can hear Hyrule settling down beside him, now, though he can’t quite bring himself to look in his direction. But when a tentative hand comes to rest on his shoulder he drags his eyes open.

“So, uh, that's the power of the Four Sword?” the traveler asks softly. “It splits you into…four people?”

Four nods. He would go into specifics, tell about how Vio and Red, Blue and Green—they’re all him only divided, and how each emotion is amplified even after he’s put himself back together, and how long it takes to find unity again in the days that follow. He’s too tired, though. All he wants to do now is sleep.

“Oh wow,” Hyrule says, sounding somewhat awed. Then, “When you use it…does it always do this to you?”

Four blinks in an attempt to clear the colors still dancing before him. There’s too much red now, tinging everything the color of blood. Tears prick at the back of his eyes.

“It isn’t always this bad,” he mumbles. “But most of the time…yes.”

He pauses, that familiar anger returning. He isn’t sure what’s worse, the numbness or the overwhelming emotion.

“I should be used to it by now. I should be able to handle the effects. But…”

He shrugs, trailing off helplessly.

Hyrule moves closer and gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Magic can be taxing. And what you’re using, it’s powerful, I can tell.”

Four shakes his head slightly, rubbing at his eyes. There’s no doubt that the Four Sword is powerful. He still remembers the first time he used it, the horribly unnatural feel of being ripped apart. Even still, handling such things is par for the course for heroes.

…Right?

“I feel like I should apologize,” he croaks. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“Hey, I don’t mind!”

Hyrule wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him into a one-armed hug. Four sags against him, grateful for the warmth and safety of his embrace.

“It’s probably a kind of magic exhaustion, you know,” the traveler says after a moment. “Using a lot of power at once or for a long time usually leads to it.”

“Usually?” Four raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think I want to know how you’re so confident about that.”

Hyrule chuckles. “Yeah, don't ask vet about it.”

Four makes a mental note to do just that (and to keep a closer eye on the traveler too). But that’ll come later. He snuggles closer and sighs. For now, he can rest.

“I don’t know any spells that help with magical exhaustion,” Hyrule says, apologetically. “It’s kinda cured by not doing any magic. But if there’s anything you want me to do, any way I can help…”

Four shakes his head. “Nothing you can do. I have to—” A yawn escapes and even pressing a hand to his mouth can’t stifle it. “—have to find unity again.”

There’s little chance Hyrule really understands what that entails, or even what it means, but he doesn’t question. He merely shifts into a more comfortable position and brings Four a little closer.

“Okay,” he says. “Then I’ll stay here with you until you do.”

And Four knows with startling certainty that he’ll do just that.

[aeoki]

Tri-Lights - Wheel of Fortune: Chapter 6

Location: Yumenosaki Tennis Court Characters: Sora, Natsume, Tsumugi & Madara

Natsume: In the eND, this was all Sora’s plan, hUH.

Use the situation to make them realise somethiNG – Just who taught you to do thAT?

Tsumugi: They do say a child learns by watching their parents, but I see Sora-kun has grown so much that he’s capable of influencing the people around him now.

He was put in charge of “SSVRS” and some other things in the beginning, but it feels he has grown even more after he was also asked to oversee “Switch”.

Sora: HaHa~ Sora has a wonderful master and upperclassman by Sora’s side, so it’s only natural that Sora would turn out that way~♪

Sora does feel bad for tricking you two, though. Were you two also able to discover something new?

Tsumugi: We were, all thanks to you ♪

Natsume: HmPH. AlrigHT, now that that’s all done and dustED, let’s go hoME.

The muscles in my body are screaming at the top of their lunGS – I want to have a bath and reST.

Tsumugi: Right. Let’s get rid of the sweat and wash ourselves clean with a nice bath ♪

…Oh, shall I wash our clothes together since they’re all dirty with sweat?

Natsume: DoN’T. That’s groSS.

Tsumugi: Ehh~...? You’re not a teenage girl going through puberty, so it should be fine, right? I think it’ll be two birds with one stone since it’ll save time that way.

Natsume: Sora, let’s leave Senpai alone and go home by ourselvES.

Sora: …………

Natsume: …Sora?

Madara: Hehe. Be brave now, Sora-san. There’s something you want to ask Tsumugi-san, right?

Tsumugi: ? Ask me?

Madara: Yeah. I don’t know the details, but he said there was something he wanted to ask you when he came to me for help.

It’s something you can ask now seeing as you now know how to approach this new challenge, right?

Sora: …Yes.

Senpai, can Sora ask you something?

Tsumugi: S–Sure.

Sora: Master and Senpai aren’t the best with sports, right?

But since our outfits still have a sporty theme incorporated into it, that must mean you were considering that “path” seriously, right?

So… why did “Switch” change from being a sports-based unit to a “witch” one?

Tsumugi: Hmm~ Well…

It’s embarrassing to say this aloud, but I’ve got no choice but to tell you the truth seeing as you’re asking me in such a serious manner.

The reason why “Switch” has turned out the way it is… is because it was fate.

…Would you laugh at me if I said that?

Sora: Fate…?

Tsumugi: Yes. Fate.

Back then, “Switch” was called “Switch”…

Because I had hoped Natsume-kun’s gloomy feelings from the “Five Oddballs” incident would switch into something more positive.

Natsume: WhAT? This is the first time I’ve heard about thIS.

Tsumugi: Ahaha. That’s one of the reasons why it was hard for me to say. I knew you would have changed the name without a second’s hesitation if you found out…♪

Anyway, that was the only reason for the name and it wasn’t supposed to be based on “witches”, which is the current origins for “Switch”.

I chose that name because of the one thing we had in common – the dance class Natsume-kun and I used to go to.

Sora: Oh, so that’s why the “S” in “Switch” stood for sports!

It’s the first place Senpai and Master met… Sora thinks it’s a wonderful reason~♪

Natsume: Don’t reveal such an important thing nOW.

If you were looking for things we had in common with each othER, then there are a bunch of other things you could have usED.

…WeLL, I’m glad that I’m in “Switch” right now, thouGH.

We all know what happened afterwarDS.

Tsumugi: Yes. “Switch” was just the two of us but Sora-kun, an old acquaintance of Natsume-kun’s, became the final piece of our puzzle and the image of our unit became official.

Sora: Sora… did that?

Natsume: YeAH. The current “Switch” only exists right now because you were there with uS.

A place for “witches” to gathER and cast “happy spells” without abandoning anyoNE.

The meaning for “Switch” was overwritten with “a world where reality is replaced with unreality” when I met you once more at Yumenosaki AcadeMY.

And our wheel of fortune began to turn as we showed our colours as the entertainment unit we currently aRE.

Tsumugi: It’s surprising to see that we all knew each other in the past.

I met Natsume-kun at the dance class we used to go to and Natsume-kun knew Sora-kun before…

All our fates were intertwined with one another and now, we’re “Switch”.

Sora: Wow… what an amazing coincidence!

It's as if our string of fate was connected from ages ago.

No, Sora is sure it’s not a thin string that led us to meet but something much bigger – it was “The Wheel of Fortune”~♪

Natsume: HeHE. “The Wheel of Fortune”... It’s not such a bad caRD.

Tsumugi: Yes. We’re fated to be together.

So let’s continue to weave our fates together in the future as well ♪

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[mamamittens]

Bite Me (I Will) +18

Day #5 of Spooktober!

Fandom: One Piece (Regency-ish AU – Look, I’m not a historian, consider this like… Romance Novel Regency Era)

AO3 link ;)

Ship: Vampire!CrocodileXF!Reader

Warnings: blood kink/play, biting, breath play, oral sex, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, unsafe sex, dom/sub undertone (That probably turned into overtones, my bad), overstimulation, aphrodisiac, begging, and light somnophilia implied (reader wakes up to oral). Oh! And implied future corruption kink and sex in a church (threat or a promise, you decide).

Word Count: 5,029

@tardiiart

Perhaps the illustrious ballroom would be more impressive if you hadn’t seen at least a dozen just as opulent in the past three months. This season had been particularly busy compared to the past few years, though you aren’t sure why exactly. Well, actually, you do know why. But the probable reason was ridiculous enough you refused to acknowledge it out loud or even in your head.

See… it might be your fault. Sort of.

You fiddled a little with the black lace sleeve of your dress. The height of fashion and just a bit ahead, the dark red dress was bold against the white marble and golden hallway. Tucked in close to your chest with a corset with layers of fabric that fanned out around you, you were quire fond of the design. Elegant and just a little spicy with the lacy cover that prevented a clear view of your breasts. Many men had given you’re a second glance tonight… it was a shame your thoughts rested with none of them at all.

No, you were thinking of only one man. And the source of your busy dance schedule this season.

It started late last season when the illusive and reclusive Earl of Alabasta, Lord Crocodile, finally deigned to appear at the party of a Duchess. Presumably as a favor of some kind since he was famous for refusing any invites to all functions not directly related to his duties or business obligations. The man cut quite the figure among a group of tittering young ladies vying for his attention. Suit immaculately tailored with crisp lines in a color so dark you were only somewhat sure it wasn’t actually black. It contrasted greatly with his famous gold hook—which he received in an incident many years back that the rumor mill still could not pin down to this day. Dark hair slicked back as he stared, bored as shit, with a fat cigar clenched between his teeth and a thin scar stretching over his nose and cheeks in a seamless line.

The man looked so sullen to be there you decided it wouldn’t hurt to bring him some wine. Hopefully getting a little tipsy would improve his night. He seemed appreciative at the time, eagerly accepting the glass and excusing himself to the balcony area—much to the disappointment of the hopeful young ladies that gave you sharp glances for the interruption. If Lord Crocodile had been looking for a wife, it would be the talk of the city. So their time would honestly be better spent looking elsewhere. You, at least, were quite happy without a husband. Your fortune firmly your own and no family close enough to have a say in the matter, you were free to do as you pleased with no plans to change that.

Naturally, you were quite surprised when Lord Crocodile asked you to join him in a waltz not an hour later, wine and cigar free. There was a slightly awkward pause as you took in his request—and another when you tried to puzzle out how to hold his hook. But, thankfully, Lord Crocodile found your hesitance amusing rather than insulting.

“Grip the base, if you must, my lady.” Lord Crocodile suggested with a sly smirk. You huffed, startled as your face heated up for a moment before wrapping your hand around the base of his golden hook. You stared up at him with narrowed eyes, tipping your chin up with your own smile.

“I suppose it will have to do, so long as you don’t falter in this dance, Lord Crocodile.” You challenged. His smirk fell for a second before growing back with an arched, smug brow.

“Oh, I’m sure I won’t disappoint, my lady.” The Earl suggested before sweeping you onto the dance floor. Despite his famous shut-in ways, the waltz was precise and breathtaking. Lord Crocodile never failing to dip, swing, and lead you around the floor in time with the music. His height actually proved to be more of a challenge than his hook, leading you to stare firmly at the buttons of his jacket or demurely glance up through your lashes.

When the orchestra finally ended, you were almost breathless and giddy. It had been ages since you’d danced like that. Still, you could hardly allow the smug bastard to win completely.

“It appears you are quite… adequate of a dance partner, my lord.” You laughed, attempting to step back, but his grip on your waist didn’t falter.

Lord Crocodile slowly removed his hand and stepped back. Pulling his hook, and your hand still firmly gripping the warm metal, to his lips as he bowed. His lips brushed your gloved knuckles softly, breath seeping into the fabric as he chuckled.

“As are you, my lady… perhaps I shall have to find you on the dance floor again?” he suggested lightly with burning eyes. Shocked at his forwardness, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Perhaps.” You acquiesced.

Ever since then he’s danced with you at every ball at least once. Each time with vague innuendo that you coyly responded to without addressing the lewdness of his phrasing because unlike him, you were raised better than that. Incorrigible bastard that he is.

This ball was the same as the others in the end. Glittery finery abound, eager young ladies seeking a husband, gossiping old ladies on the sidelines, and him. Striding across the room to ask for a dance he knew you would accept. Still immaculately dressed and cocky as ever, you had half a mind to turn him down despite the improperness of such a request just to wipe the smug look off his face. And then, for once, there was a break in routine.

A handsome young man cut in front of you.

Eager and bold, he asked for your hand in a dance and too surprised to turn him down, you agreed.

He wasn’t… a terrible dancer. Though you once teased Lord Crocodile of being ‘adequate’, you grudgingly admitted that this young man fit far better than the Earl. A bit too unsteady, hands just shy of improper and loose, you couldn’t quite lose yourself in the waltz. He also used far too much cologne, which was unfortunate since this particular waltz required you to keep close to the young man. You actually had enough room to think about how awkward it was going to be to ensure this young man never sought your hand for a dance again once the music wound down.

Thankfully, just like any other time in a dance, Lord Crocodile didn’t let you down.

Just before the young man—did he even give his name? How improper of him—could speak, a gold hook wrapped around your wrist and gave a slight tug. Shocked by his boldness, you nevertheless allowed Lord Crocodile to pull your hand up to be kissed.

“My apologies, my lady. I almost didn’t recognize you in such a lovely dress… I hope you still have the energy for one more dance?” Lord Crocodile asked coyly, dismissing the unfortunate young man with a glance. Though he sputtered, the young man left without comment. “You appear quite… unsatisfied with your previous partner’s performance.”

“And you believe you can rectify that?” You asked, just as coy. Lord Crocodile merely smiled and took your hand, sweeping you into a wide arch for a much more invigorating waltz.

“I haven’t left you wanting yet, have I?” Lord Crocodile asked, leading you flawlessly as you instinctively rested your hand just below his hook.

“What if you have left me wanting, my lord?” You tipped your head back with a sly grin. Lord Crocodile paused for a heartbeat before grinning.

“Then I’ll have to rectify that, won’t I, my lady?” Crocodile leaned down and whispered into your ear. You gasped, shocked and delighted in equal measure. A subdued cologne mixed with whiskey and ashes tickled your nose.

Flushed with heat and feeling unusually faint in your tight corset, you laughed.

“Oh, promises, promises my lord.” You tittered softly, “You should be more careful with your words. Someone might misconstrue them into something perverse.” A puff of warm air tickled your ear.

“No need to misconstrue anything if that’s exactly what I mean. You really do look ravishing in that dress, you know.” Crocodile whispered, “And I find myself compelled to your side with every dance.”

“Oh, I’d say you must tell every lady that, but it shocks me that you find your way to the dancefloor at all.” You teased, letting your dress flare in a spin Crocodile eagerly allowed.

“Perhaps I can’t stand to be called merely ‘adequate’, my lady.” Crocodile teased back as the song slowly drifted off. You were both on the edges of the dance floor now as he lead you to the back door where a few party goers were slipping out to enjoy the gardens. “If you’re not exhausted, I thought we could enjoy some fresh air?” he asked.

You smiled, nodding eagerly.

“The gardens sound quite nice, actually.” Of course, it wasn’t just the garden that you were both intending to enjoy. The air was crisp tonight outside of the ballroom. The rose bushes and flowers immaculately tended in clear paths that lead to a hedge maze. Pumpkin lanterns decorated the way and provided ample light further out.

As a gentleman should, Crocodile offered his arm for you to hold. Something you eagerly took advantage of, enjoying the warmth and firmness under your hands. The quiet walk was serene, interrupted only by the clack of your heels on the paved pathway and the sound of leaves brushing your dress as you walked by. Crocodile, a man you were beginning to suspect of incredible deviancy, lead an almost straight path to the maze. Where neither one of you could be seen from the outside.

You snorted, Crocodile giving you a sly glance. You merely batted your eyelashes and smiled.

“You’re a bold man, my lord.” Crocodile grinned, showing more teeth than you’d ever seen before. Sharp, too… unusually so.

“And to think this is only the start, my lady.”

“You promise?” You asked demurely, teasing him. Crocodile paused just after the first turn in the maze and leaned down to whisper against your temple.

“I’ll do much more than make promises for you, my lady. I’m a… man of action. Promises are sweet, pretty things meant to tempt you. And I intend to offer much more tangible delights in my seduction. If you think you can handle me.” You gasped, shocked as his breath curled around your hairline. Your heart raced and you loved it. “I want to hear you say it, my lady. I want more than just that pretty heart beating for me.”

“Oh? And what do you want to hear me say, my lord? That I enjoyed dancing with you? Greatly?” You pulled away from his arm and spun around, laughing as you walked back further into the maze. “That I find you quite scandalous and bold? And that I like that about you very much?” You challenged.

Crocodile narrowed his eyes dangerously and smirked, stalking forward as you tried to move backwards faster. You only managed a few dizzy turns before your back met a prickly wall of shrubbery.

A dead end. With Crocodile standing tall before you, his body coated in moonlight as he confidently walked closer to you. Until you had to bend you neck to look up at him. Cold, golden metal nipped at your chin as he tilted your head up more.

“Well, my lady, I think…” Crocodile leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, whiskey and wine mixing between you both, “That was a very good start.” You smirked, reaching up to grasp at his tie.

“Right… you’re a man of action. I almost forgot.” You yanked on his tie hard, sending his lips crashing into yours. Bold and drunk on the illicitness of your actions, you swept your tongue between his teeth and hissed as something nicked you. Blood tainting the kiss as Crocodile groaned, cradling your head with one hand as he deepened your shared passion. Chasing your tongue with his own eagerly.

A soft, plaintive sound slipped out from you as you clutched his suit, answered by a sharp growl that vibrated on your lips. You laughed a little, reaching up to tug on his hair, peaking through your lashes to find his eyes bearing down on your hungrily. They seemed to glow red hot the longer his lips slid over yours, as though he was finally sating his desire and you were thrilled to be there for it. But unfortunately, you couldn’t lose yourself under his heady kiss forever.

You started to pull back when his hand slipped lower, thumb sliding over your throat and squeezing. You gasped, swallowing hard against the pressure as Crocodile growled, resuming the kiss with a harsh nip to your bottom lip. Your breath became labored under his attention, every inhale hard earned under his firm hand. Your eyes slid shut as you leaned into his chest, mewling as the motion briefly dislodged his hand and cool air rushed down your throat. He huffed softly, tongue slipping back further as he dropped the pretense and gripped the column of your throat.

Your heart throbbed, blood racing against his firm grip as you struggled to breath, dizzy. Suddenly, almost as fast as it started, Crocodile pulled back. His tongue slow to leave as lewd strings pulled and snapped with every heave of your chest. He panted, smirk evident as he took in your debauched state.

“I knew it.” He whispered, licking his lips. “You taste like divine perfection… We should stop. Shouldn’t we? You’d be utterly ruined if I gave into what your eyes promise here and now.” Still lightheaded, you laughed.

“I thought you didn’t like promises? And why would anyone need to know you take my breath away?” You giggled. Crocodile smirked.

“Well, neither one of us would have a choice when you start screaming.” You arched a brow.

“And you’d let me?” you challenged. Crocodile sucked in a harsh breath and scoffed.

“What a troublesome young lady, you are. So eager to throw it all away for a moment of pleasure.” Crocodile brushed his hook against your cheek and you leaned into it.

“Only a moment?” you scoffed back, “And here I thought you were a man of action, my lord.” He narrowed his eyes at your, light flashing unnaturally in their depths as he leaned over to whisper against your ear again.

“If you really are so eager for me, leave your window open tomorrow night.” You laughed, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

“Like naughty schoolchildren, my lord?” The smile Crocodile gave you, despite all his pretty words, promised something dark and dangerous.

“Oh, I’m so much worse than a randy young man could ever be.” You tipped your head up to smile at him.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Crocodile briefly softened then, brushing his thumb over your cheek and giving you a chaste kiss.

“I would never disappoint a lady.”

Naturally, you parted ways after that, barring the few moments you both took to set things in order. And you feigned a fever the next day, choosing instead to set out two glasses and a bottle of wine after the sun slipped over the horizon. As tempting as it was to dress up, you decided that there was no point in wasting any makeup or time prettying up your hair. Nor was there any need for a fancy dress.

Windows wide open to the night air, doors locked and staff dismissed clear across the estate, you poured yourself a glass. Your white nightgown was barely enough to stave off the chill in the air. The sheer white thigh high socks a last-minute addition once you realized it was only getting colder. And then you waited.

But not for long.

The sound was soft. Like satin brushing against your skin as a breeze swept through your room. The windows softly locking shut. Startled, you turned to find Crocodile there, elegantly dressed as always. Silently, you offered him a glass.

“How kind of you, but I’m afraid I desire something with more body.” Crocodile stalked across the room and tipped your chin back, “Are you sure you want this, my lady?” Crocodile asked.

Instead of replying, you set down your glass and pulled him close, licking his lips as he groaned in surprise.

“I thought you were a man of action?” You taunted him.

Crocodile was briefly shocked before he grinned, scooping you up into his arms and tossing you onto the bed. He parted his lips wide, showing off his teeth—so sharp in the light you gasped.

“Some would say that it’s debatable I’m a man at all.” Crocodile purred, “But if you’re still unafraid, you have my word that tonight will take your breath away.”

He deliberately hovered over you, bracing his hook on your bed as his hand squeezed your waist. You didn’t bother thinking too deeply on the matter. Questions could come later. You wanted him now.

You shoved your thigh against his burning erection.

“Feels like a man to me, Earl.” You breathed, “But maybe I need a closer inspection?” Crocodile allowed a satisfied grin to overtake his features as he roughly shoved off his clothes.

“Perhaps you do.” Crocodile declared, removing his buckle and releasing his cock. Proudly, he stepped back and grasped it in his hand. “Kneel. You wanted to inspect it, did you not?” Breathlessly, you slid off your bed to your knees. His dick inches from your face. You slipped your tongue over the weeping head and he groaned, hips thrusting forward instinctively.

“Certainly seem to taste like a man.” You whispered, slowly allowing the head to slide between your lips. His hand rested on your hair in a firm grip, pulling you in close.

“Hn. Better be sure. That’s it. Take it in deep.” Crocodile groaned, thrusting his hips forward to shove his cock down your throat. You swallowed hard, Crocodile snarling as he yanked your hair. “Hardly a lady right now, are you? Taking my cock so well, are you a whore? Certainly my whore now, aren’t you?” Crocodile growled, fucking your mouth in shallow motions. His dick made your jaw ache, the hot length thick and hard on your tongue. Long enough to dip down the back of your throat. Cold metal hooked around the back of your neck and forced you to bury your nose in his crotch.

A very unlady-like moan vibrated his cock, another stifled snarl slipping past his lips. Suddenly, he yanked your head off of him.

“If you want my seed, you have to earn it, my lady. Get on the bed. It’s time for your own inspection.” Crocodile demanded, “Do you taste like a lady?”

You scrambled back on the bed as he laughed at your eagerness. Teasingly, Crocodile ensure you laid down flat by running his hook up your body, the sharp tip brushing over your clothed thigh and breasts until he caught the collar. Then, with a harsh jerk, he cut it clean in half. You gasped, attempting not to arch your spine for his roaming hand as he cradled your breast. Pinching the delicate skin with a pleased hum.

Crocodile licked up your belly and nipped the underside of your breast, pressing his tongue hard into your skin until he found your nipple. Curling around the stiff peak, playing with your body, Crocodile suddenly opened his mouth wide and bit down. Fangs sinking in deep as you attempted to scream, the sound cut by his hand grasping your throat. It felt like fire spread through your veins as you shuddered, gasping for air as he sucked in greedily.

Drinking your blood like the finest wine. After only a few moments, Crocodile drew back with a bone-deep growl. His eyes were red, glowing in the subdued light of your room. Blood dripped down his lips as he licked them away. He ripped away the torn remnants of your nightgown.

“Mine. You taste like you’re mine.” Crocodile growled, launching forward to bully his tongue down your throat. He tasted like hot iron and desire as he ate away what little gasps of air you could manage. Your blood was still on fire as he shoved his hand between your soaked lips, teasing your clit as you squirmed. His fingers slipped down lower with ease, sliding into your cunt and spreading your body wide as you keened brokenly. Body quivering as the fire burned hotter.

Despite the absence of his hand on your throat, you found it no easier to breath as moans and pathetic whines slipped onto his tongue. And he ate them all down eagerly, even as you drenched his hand. He shoved your thighs apart as he slid down your body, pausing to lap at the beads of blood that dripped down your breast before kissing your exposed cunt. Licking up your slick mess as eagerly as he drank from you. And when your pussy was clean, he turned his head, brushing down the lacy top of your thigh-high sock and bit into the silky skin freshly exposed, finally allowing you to scream breathlessly as more fire was added to your body.

This time he didn’t drink so heavily, merely sipping from your quivering thigh, choosing instead to smear it up to your cunt to mix the liquids together. The moan that slipped from his lips was sadistic and hedonistic. Pleased and eager as he lapped at the growing pool of bloodied cream. Over the wet smacks you could hear a distinctly damp rhythm further down. What sounded like Crocodile angrily fisting his cock to your taste as you came again with a broken cry.

Snarling, Crocodile flipped your body over, shoving your thighs apart and ass up.

“P-P-Please, O-Oh! I-I want you so bad—my lord please g-give me your cock I’m burning alive—take me! T-Take me-Oh~!” You keened as Crocodile loomed over your body, cock burning against your dripping cunt. He slammed into your ass, hook slipping around your throat and pulling your head back. Crocodile sneered down at you as he fucked you, panting and snarling as you cried. “C-Cro—hng~!” He deliberately pressed his hook against your throat, cutting you off.

“I never said you could have the honor of using my name, slut.” Crocodile snapped his hips furiously, splitting open your sopping wet cunt mercilessly, “It’s lord to you. Not that titles matters when your moaning like a whore. My whore that likes it when I squeeze your throat, don’t you? Go on. Answer me, my lady.” His hook left only to be replaced by his firm hand.

You gasped and moaned for air between his thick cock breaking your body and his harsh grip around your throat.

“Y-Yeee—ahn-hngh~ mmmmm—aaahh-hah-oh! Oh~!” You jerked as his cock brushed over a sensitive spot again. Crocodile laughed harshly, finally letting go of your throat as your orgasm rushed through your body, soaking his thighs. “YES! AH-hah-Oh! Oh! M-My lo—aaa-hah~!—Lord! Mmmmm-my lord—yes, please! Please, harder—Yes! Yes! Y-Yess—oh!” Crocodile’s grip on your hip was bruising as he drove his cock into your body harder. Just as you asked.

“W-What a polite lady I have the pleasure of having tonight. So pretty on my cock. My wanton little whore~” Crocodile cooed, still fucking you hard. “What a waste of a cute little cunt—empty until I came along. Aren’t you thankful for your lord? Providing you with everything you could never have before?” You nodded, drunk as another orgasm built up in your body. Blood burning bright still.

“Y-Yes, I-I’m so grateful to y-y-OooooH~!” You threw your head back with a sharp moan, “M-My lord—Please! Please give it to me—I-I’m still burning up I need more~!” You keened attempting to bury your head into the mattress.

Swiftly, Crocodile slammed into your cunt. Arms winding under your thighs as he picked you up against his chest. His hand fixed back around your throat like it belonged there. He squeezed as you cried out at how deeply his cock rested in your body, your moan turning into a strained gurgle as he bounced you on his length.

“You’ve hardly earned that, lovely. Only ladies get what they want. Whores make do.” Crocodile squeezed hard as he thrust up into your body ruthlessly. Using you for his pleasure. “Feel that? Not me fucking your pretty pussy—that fire? It won’t stop until I say so. Because this body? Mine. These lips? Mine. This tight cunt? Mine. And you have to earn it. Batting your eyelashes won’t get you anywhere with me. Beg.”

Like a fucking monster, Crocodile squeezed your throat harder. Cutting off any attempt at communicating before you could start. You could only weakly moan and bear down on his cock as he fucked you stupid. Hoping that he would take mercy eventually. He couldn’t go forever, could he? You jerked uselessly in his hold as you squirted. Every orgasm hitting you harder as he kept your from even screaming.

Anytime he slowed down he started to ease up on your throat, tempting you to speak. And you barely managed to let his title slip before he rammed his cock into your body and squeezed you again. And again. Dragging you over the edge repeatedly as you lost all sense of time. There was only the ever intensifying burning fire in your blood as you creamed.

Finally, you’re cock-addled brain had a different idea.

“B-Bite me! Bite me!” You yelped just as his grasp tightened. He faltered, his thick cock throbbing hard in your walls.

“What did you say?” Crocodile snarled into your hair, releasing your throat.

“Bite me. T-Take everything—I want it so bad. Your fangs-your cock—I-I’m yours, right? Then bite me.” You begged breathlessly, gasping for air while you still could. You screamed when his cock was ripped from your overstimulated body. Your knees shoved onto his shoulder as he hovered over you with a manic grin.

“I will.” Crocodile dipped his head down as you exposed as much skin as possible. Slamming his cock into you as his fangs pierced your flesh. Hard and faster than humanly possible, your lord railed into you. Your cunt slapping against his thighs with harsh, wet slaps.

Crocodile raced against your beating heart, attempting to drain you dry before you came again on his cock. Drinking down your blood with a heady moan as you screamed, jerking under his body as he slammed into you. Thrusting softly as hot, thick cum filled your abused cunt. Cooling the fire as he groaned into your neck. Panting, you weakly pet his hair. Eyes sliding shut as he slipped his tongue over your pulse with a groan.

Birdsong and a burning fire in your stomach greeted you. The curtains were drawn tight, only the barest streams of daylight visible. Something hot and slick slipped into your cunt as you moaned softly. Weak and dizzy, you could only roll your hips into the sensation. Firm lips pressing into your clit as thick fingers crooked into the walls of your pussy. Your orgasm swept by gently, but you got the distinct impression you fainted for a moment.

When you opened your eyes properly, you nuzzling into a firm, bare chest. Head tucked on a muscular bicep as someone stroked your hair. The scent of a cigar was thick in the air, along with sex and blood.

“Go back to sleep, little lady. I’ve sent for a hearty breakfast—you’ll need every drop you can get.” Crocodile groaned low in his chest, “You taste fucking divine.” You curled your fist against his chest and hummed. Pausing at the unfamiliar weight of metal on your ring finger.

“Hm? Wha—hng—what’s this, my lord?” You asked, pulled back slightly to take a look. It was a gold wedding band with delicate carvings along the side and studded with red gemstones. A large diamond on the top the obvious centerpiece.

“I know I fucked you hard, little lady, but I know you know what a wedding ring is.” Crocodile laughed, exhaling smoke before removing the cigar from between his lips. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “You’re mine, remember? We’ve eloped. How scandalous of us, huh? Papers already all in order. We can throw a big to-do about it later if you’d like. Might make you work for that though… hmm… then again, fucking you against a pulpit before our wedding sounds nice. A vampire and his pretty, innocent bride, bent over in a wedding dress…” You laughed softly.

“Not sure I’d be considered very innocent now.” You admitted, pressing a kiss to his chest. “…Vampire?” You asked, causing Crocodile to scoff.

“Of course! What kind of a weirdo do you take me for? Or did you think I was a kinky fucker that liked blood?” You peaked up at him from under your lashes with a sly smile.

“I distinctly remember you finally cumming inside me only after sinking your teeth into my neck, my lord.” You nipped his chest, “So I’m pretty sure you’re a kinky fuck regardless of your mortality.”

Crocodile gave a sharp bark of laughter, yanking your head back and sneering around the bud of a cigar.

“Yer a sassy little fucker, ain’t ‘cha? I’d fuck it out of ya, but I don’t think you’d be conscious for most of it righ’ now.” Crocodile said from around his cigar, speech muddled somewhat.

“You can try. What’s mine is yours, after all.” You taunted. “I don’t think I imagined you drinking from my cunt earlier this morning either.” Crocodile snorted.

“Damage control. My spit makes pretty little ladies like you heal faster.”

“Oh, so does that mean you’ll have to give me more bruises later?” You blinked innocently. Crocodile snarled softly, but his eyes were bright with promise.

“You know what? I think I just might.”

[repo-net]

A Towa's Thoughts

"And t-that's why... we can set up the fort for all the children right here in Towa Tower. It's already manufactured in a way that protects us from intruders - not that it should really be a problem once all the adults are out of this city, but it's always good to have precautions. And not to mention, the massive space allows for our robots to go all out without wrecking muc-"

"Okay, Nagisa. Monaca gets it."

"Oh- right. S-Sorry... I may have over-spoke. But you get the idea, right?"

Monaca nodded, brushing her own hair a little bit as she looked at the blue-haired boy in front of her. He was carrying a very detailed and very well-written set of papers with him. He's been hard at work trying to detail out the architecture and blueprints for their supposed paradise, huh? She couldn't help but smile at that.

The mage of the Warriors of Hope had been spending most of today just asking her fellow teammates what plans they have for their future. A rekindling of fire after Monaca turned their desire to see every adult in the city into a game, trying to one-up each other and see who could 'score the most points' started to push them even further. All of them were slowly dancing to Monaca's tune, and the pieces were falling in line one by one.

Well, most of them were, anyways. In Monaca's eyes, there was one of them that hadn't quite turned just yet.

"Hmhm. So that's what your thoughts are... let Monaca think for a moment."

A cold shiver went down Nagisa's spine as he stared Monaca down in the eye. He felt his left hand shake in anxiety, instinctively and slowly hiding it behind him. But Monaca could already read him like an open book so, so easily.

It'd been like that since elementary school ever since they met. Monaca's simple kindness and warm smile made Nagisa feel an emotion he didn't even know existed at the time. Someone that he thought saw him for more than just a tool and experiment meant the world to him. He was so unbelievably smitten with her ever since then. And while she did find it amusing enough that she enjoyed teasing him about it...

Unfortunately for him, those feelings were one-sided. And not in a way that he would've accepted if the truth were to come out, such as 'sorry Nagisa, Monaca's just not interested'.

It was more along the lines of 'sorry Nagisa, Monaca just doesn't see the need to keep you around longer than need be'.

Did she feel bad about it? Sure, of course. There was going to be a small part of her that ate her up seeing the future of what her friends were going to be once her true plan was set in motion. But there's always been something about Nagisa that often bothered her. He always had a sadistic and violent side to him that came out when he felt that he or any of the children; Warrior of Hope or not were being wronged.

But from his low kill count, to how he's so oddly sympathetic with the people they're fighting against...? It puzzled her what he was being so hesitant for.

"Tell me, Nagisa. What do you think of adults... or rather, the demons?"

"Huh? Oh. Well, the answer's quite simple. I can't live with them. Just being around them puts me at unease. I think we'd all be better off if they weren't with us."

... No use of the word 'kill' or 'death' anywhere, huh? He sure was dancing around his words very carefully. Monaca was aware of the fact that Nagisa had a honest core in the end and he did his best to avoid saying words he didn't completely mean.

"Then why don't you want to kill all the nasty and horrible demons with us, Nagisa? Don't you love Monaca's game? She worked really hard on it."

Emphasis on work as she shook her head back and forth like a metronome. She knew how much Nagisa valued the idea of someone working hard on something and needed to prod at him.

"Of course I want to kill them! They're... I can't forgive them. Even the innocents can't be allowed to stay any more. Nobody stops to save the good people in a war, that's just how it is. But I just feel like we could be doing so, so much more than this."

He's too passive. She had to be direct with him now.

"Nagisa. Tell Monaca the truth. You're thinking you'd rather get them all out of this city rather than having them all killed, don't you?"

Nagisa turned meek. The words he had in his mind were immediately shut down by Monaca's attack; the exact intention she had. She wanted him to question himself and his loyalty.

Monaca knew full well just how emotionally attached he was to her. She knew that if she just tugged him hard enough and used the right words, he could easily go off and orchestrate a plan that would take out a massive chunk of adults in a single go.

There was another option she had in her mind, but... that was going to be saved if he turned extremely traitorous. Going against her plans, whether it be the game or the second generation she wants to see reborn will make him see a side of her he'd never expect.

"I don't have any aversion to either concept. My point is that using our time and resources to wreck the same town we're supposed to create paradise in is only going to delay our goal. But-"

Cut him off.

"Monaca wants to ask you this then, Nagisa. Let's assume we do get all of the adults out of town, nice and dandy! Then they find a way to contact Future Foundation. And after we've finally built our beautiful utopia and safe haven for kids, all these adults that we could've finished off are now striking back against us. Doesn't that sound just horrible, Nagisa? Monaca would feel so incredibly disappointed, you know. That's not even to consider the betrayal Masaru, Jataro, and Kotoko would feel..."

His face turned pale as his eyes were full of submission and dismay. She was starting to get to him. Now she needed to close it out and make sure he doesn't even get a chance to rebute.

Wheeling herself closer to him, she cupped his chin with a saccharine smile on her face, enough to fluster him and turn his eyes to the side.

"That doesn't sound very nice, does it Nagisa? Do you know what that would make you?"

"Um..."

"A traitor."

The moment she said it, Monaca could just feel his heart sink at that word. Him, a traitor? After everything he's done for them? Surely not... being exiled by his only friends, the people that he'd do anything for... that was too much to handle.

"So Monaca will ask very, very kindly. I want you to play together with everyone else, okay? Get along with the other Warriors of Hope for me. And kill all the adults. Can Monaca ask that of you, Nagisa?"

She flashed him an excessively sweet close-eyed smile, now rubbing his chin with her fingers as he shivered in what felt like reverence.

"Yes. I understand completely. I'll do absolutely anything for you, Monaca. C-Could you... step back a little though? This is a little... uhm. Close..."

Realizing the situation's softened up now, Monaca shifted back into a more casual and peppy tone, clasping her hands as she laid into her chair, giggling.

"Step back? Come on now, don't be so rude, Nagisa. Surely you can understand why Monaca can't do such a thing, meow?"

She pointed a finger subtly at her legs, while giving him a teasingly sad look. The realization hit him and put an apologetic and flustered look on his face.

"Ah! Right...! Sorry, sorry! I should've-''

"Nagisa, it's fiiine. Monaca was just teasing you, heehee."

He really needed to loosen up some more. Monaca really wanted to like him more. Nagisa saw her as an angel and genuinely believed in the best of her traits, but still...

Whether it be his goals or his feelings. Her heart just didn't feel the same way he did.