#like i feel like it really captures the longing he's had for YEARS for skip to come back

[armentas]

words have been failing me these past couple weeks so i've been just drawing my characters instead. finally finished them!!!

[eiightysixbaby]

under the mistletoe

modern!eddie munson x fem!reader (college au)

2.6k

summary: a holiday party, a sweet gift exchange, and an even sweeter kiss

cw: mentions of alcohol, v brief mentions of weed smoking, fluff

“If Steve and Chrissy kiss one more time under that mistletoe, I’m gonna barf,” Eddie mumbles around his glass of eggnog.

“Oh, come on, I think it’s sweet,” Robin says, elbowing him in the side. “Stop being such a downer.”

You look in the direction of the couple under scrutiny, watching as Chrissy perches herself on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Steve’s waiting mouth. It is sweet, sickeningly so, if you’re honest. Maybe that’s where Eddie’s coming from…

“I’m not being a downer, I just don’t think we should all have to be subjected to them sucking face every five minutes,” Eddie sneers at her, huffing when she rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re just jealous you’re not getting any, Munson,” Robin sing-songs, walking away to refill her drink.

This was your first time experiencing one of Steve’s Christmas parties. Last year, you spent the holiday miserably sick in your and Robin’s shared apartment. You’d met the group during your first year of college, making fast friends and fitting right in with them. Robin and Eddie knew Steve from their shared hometown growing up, and they’d told you countless stories of all of the parties he used to throw in high school.

You’re just thankful that now, the parties are a little more scaled-back. A lot less drinking-till-you-puke and a lot more quality time with people you actually care about.

“So, you having fun at your first official Harrington holiday party?” Eddie asks you, looking casually over at you with his deep brown eyes.

“Yeah,” you smile. “It’s fun. I needed this after all the stress from finals. And it beats having the flu like last year,” you grimace, heart skipping a beat when Eddie laughs.

“Okay, you got me. Watching Steve and Chrissy make out might be bad, but it’s not as bad as the flu.”

You giggle, feeling your cheeks heat when he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. You’d be a filthy liar if you said you didn’t have a thing for Eddie. The moment you met him he’d captured your full attention, with his boisterous personality and his pretty eyes. His wild curly hair and his stellar smile. Everything about him had you giddy like a teenager, but you hadn’t voiced this to anyone — too scared that your feelings would disrupt, well, everything.

Plus, Eddie definitely didn’t like you like that. You’ve heard some of his hookup stories, he wouldn’t want to settle down and start a relationship with you. You’re just a friend to him, and that’s fine.

But with the way he’s looking at you right now, you could almost be convinced otherwise…

The little moment is gone before it really even started, Nancy coming over to the two of you and hurrying you into the living room to do the gift exchange. You’d decided to do a Secret Santa, drawing names and keeping your chosen person a secret until it was time for the unwrapping.

Much to your excitement, you’d pulled Eddie’s name. You’d debated over what to get him for as long as you could get away with before you finally came up with the perfect idea. Now that it’s almost time for him to open it, you find yourself getting nervous to see his reaction.

Everyone sits in a circle in the living room, taking up all of the furniture as well as the floor. You take one end of the sofa, and Eddie claims the chair closest to you. You watch as Nancy places all of the wrapped boxes and sparkly gift bags in the center of the group, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Eddie chose to sit by you.

“So, whose name did you get?” he leans over and whispers to you, those big doe eyes full of mischief.

“Well what fun would it be to spoil it now?” you counter, smiling at him as he rolls his eyes and sighs exaggeratedly.

Your attention is brought back to the group as Steve offers to go first, picking up his gift and handing it over to Jonathan. Jonathan shyly accepts it, smiling as he tears the tissue paper out of the bag to reveal its contents. He pulls out a few cassette tapes of his favorite artists, as well as a new strap for his camera.

“Dude, these are awesome!” he says, and you watch as Steve smiles proudly. “Thank you so much,” the shaggy-headed boy continues, leaning over to accept Steve’s fist bump.

“No problem, man. I know you were complaining about your current camera strap getting all worn. The cassettes were an obvious choice,” Steve jokes.

The room is full of smiles and laughs as the gift-giving continues. Jonathan gives his gift to Chrissy, Chrissy had drawn your name and gives hers to you — a beautiful charm bracelet and a cozy blanket you’d seen at the mall not long ago and wanted terribly.

That means you’re up next. Your hands feel clammy and nervous butterflies flutter in your stomach as you grab your gifts from the floor. Angling yourself in Eddie’s direction, you hand him the presents with a timid smile.

“For me!?” he asks, holding a hand up to his heart. “How’d I get so lucky?”

You feel your face flush, unable to maintain eye contact as your jitters get the best of you. You just hope he likes it. You hope it’s not too much.

Eddie’s careful hands unwrap the first present of the two, tossing the wrapping paper to the floor. The small box is exposed, and you feel like you might pass out as he takes the lid off. His jaw drops open, his head snapping up to look at you and then look back down at the contents of the container once more.

“What is it!?” Nancy asks, craning her neck from her seat to try and catch a glimpse.

“Custom guitar picks. For Corroded Coffin,” Eddie says, in awe as he just stares at them.

The picks were a red and black marbled pattern, with CC printed onto them on one side, and an image of a bat flying on the opposite side. You know how important his band is to him, how often he stays up till the asscrack of dawn practicing guitar, and so it felt like the perfect thing to get.

You wait with baited-breath as he continues looking them over, picking them up and marveling at them as if they aren’t just pieces of plastic at the end of the day.

“These are…. I don’t even know what to say. These are so fucking sweet,” he says, meeting your eyes.

“Don’t forget to open the second one,” you say, trying to bite back a smile.

He just smiles, shaking his head as he goes to pick up the second present. Reaching carefully inside of the big, sparkly red bag, he pulls out a vinyl record. Not just any record, though. It’s a copy of Master of Puppets, signed by every member of Metallica. Eddie’s favorite band. You’d scoured the internet for a legitimate and somewhat-affordable copy, completely scoring on this one. A good chunk of the money you’d made from your campus job went towards it, but it was more than worth it.

“No fucking way!” he shouts when he clocks the signatures scrawled out in marker. He flips the record around to show the room, everyone erupting in a chorus of “holy shit!” and “oh my god”.

He’s out of his seat in an instant, encouraging you to stand with him. He squeezes you in an impossibly tight hug, his arms so secure around you.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” he says, right against your ear. He pulls back a little, looking you right in the eyes. “Thank you so fucking much. What the hell,” he laughs, his teeth fully on display and the dimples coming out in his cheeks.

“Damn. She’s the best gift giver of us all. I think we might as well just call off Secret Santa for next year, no one’s topping that,” Steve says, getting a nod from Robin.

Eddie still hasn’t fully let you go, and it’s only when you become excruciatingly aware of all of the eyes on you that you pull away from his touch.

“Okay. So, Eddie, you’re next?” you say shakily, trying to gain your composure back. The boy stares at you just a second too long for you not to overthink it, before he’s nodding along.

“Yeah, alright,” he says, reaching for his gift.

The remainder of the gifts are exchanged rather quickly, but you really couldn’t tell anyone what they were if you’d had a gun to your head. All you could think about was the way Eddie hugged you. The look in his eyes when he opened both gifts. His eyes watching you intently from that moment on.

You want to buy him gifts like that all of the time, want to make him smile like that all of the time.

Chrissy and Steve cozy up on the loveseat, wrapped in each other as Christmas music plays softly. Jonathan and Argyle sit by the window, smoking from the new bowl the latter had been gifted by Robin. (That was the only gift you’d actually paid attention to as it was given, because Argyle literally cried). Eddie was relaxing in his chair, sipping another glass of spiked nog.

Robin and Nancy had pulled you into the kitchen as soon as they could, talking in whispers.

“Okay, so what was that? You got Eddie, like, the best gift ever.” Robin says, her eyes bulging at the end of the sentence.

“Yeah, I mean, that record had to have cost a fortune. And the custom picks!?” Nancy prods.

“Can I not just get my friend a nice gift?” you counter, your hand rubbing the back of your neck.

“Something’s up. I always know when something’s up,” Nancy says, her small mouth pursing in thought.

She’s right. She always knows. You don’t stand a chance lying to them — especially not both of them, together.

“Okay, fine! So maybe I have a little thing for Eddie…” you say. “But he definitely doesn’t like me like that! I just… wanted to get him something nice. It made me feel good,” you add, quick to defend yourself.

“I knew it!” Robin says, a little too loud, Nancy and you hurrying to shush her. “I knew it,” she says again, whispering this time.

“Just pleeaaase don’t tell him, okay? I don’t need this getting out—”

“Okay, babe, have you ever considered that he might like you too?” Robin interrupts, and Nancy nods.

“I— I don’t know! He doesn’t seem like the type to want a relationship, and… I don’t know!” you stumble, realizing you aren’t sure if you have a valid reason to confidently claim that he doesn’t like you.

The truth is, you just don’t know. And the unknown is terrifying.

“Why don’t you ask him out?” Nancy asks. “You know Eddie’s a sweetheart. I’m sure he’d love to go on a date with you,” she says, and you chew on your lip in indecision.

“I don’t know, you guys…” you mumble, nervously playing with your hair.

“Just, think about it?” Robin asks, just as the curly-headed man in question strolls leisurely into the kitchen.

“What are we thinking about?” he noses his way into the conversation, grabbing a few cookies off of a tray.

“Uh, nothing important,” you lie, giving him the most convincingly casual smile you can muster.

He bites into his cookie, leaning casually against the table. His dark eyes don’t leave you. Bringing an icing-covered finger to his mouth, he sucks the sugary substance off, making you flustered for the millionth time tonight.

Think about it, Robin said. You’re definitely thinking about it.

“Hey, um, could I talk to you alone, for a sec?” he asks you, bringing you back to earth.

“Oh! Y-yeah, sure,” you say, following him out of the kitchen. You chance a quick glance back at the girls, both of whom give you a thumbs up and an encouraging nod.

Eddie rounds the corner from the kitchen, standing in the entryway to the apartment. You’re just out of earshot of anyone else, and you’re nervous for what he’s about to say. You lean against the wall, his taller frame almost caging you in.

“Listen. I just want you to know how much I appreciate the gifts you got me. You didn’t have to do that,” he says sincerely. “No one��s ever gotten me a gift that nice before, besides for when Wayne got me my guitar,” he says, laughing lightly. “I just… thank you. I can’t thank you enough, actually.”

“I wanted to do it. You don’t even need to thank me. I’m just glad you like them, and you don’t think it’s too much,” you admit, glancing down at your feet.

“They’re perfect,” he says earnestly, getting you to look back up at him. “You’re… perfect," he breathes, saying it like it's a sigh of relief. Like it’s long overdue.

His eyes are so soft and sincere, his lips plump and pink as his tongue pokes out to wet them. His cheeks are tinged with the slightest bit of red, either from nerves or from the alcohol. You find yourself lost in him, your lips parting slightly as you both stand in silence.

Something above his head catches your attention, after a moment, and you look further up. You laugh in spite of yourself, making him look up, too.

Right above both of you, hanging from the arch in the ceiling, is mistletoe. The same mistletoe Eddie had been complaining about earlier. He starts laughing too, and then the both of you are stood there giggling like schoolchildren at the situation you find yourselves in.

When he’s regained composure, and your belly-laughs have subsided to a shy smile, you meet his eyes again. He steps ever-so-slightly closer to you, regarding you carefully down the bridge of his nose. There’s a playful look on his face, and one of his hands reaches out to gently rest on your waist.

“Since we’re here… should we..?” he starts, inching even closer.

“Yeah, we should,” you murmur, pushing up on your toes to meet him as he starts leaning down.

Your eyes flutter shut, your noses brushing together before your lips barely graze his. His warm breath fans your face, and then his lips are pressed fully on yours. You’re drinking him in, letting your mouths move softly together as you press your body against his. He smells like cinnamon and spice, tastes like the liquor from his drink, and you can’t get enough.

He’s pulling away too soon, reaching his hands up to cup your face. You never want him to let go, never want to go back to the reality you were living in before you’d kissed him, and the look on his face tells you he might be feeling the same.

“Wow,” Steve says from his spot on the couch, reminding both you and Eddie that you aren’t the only ones here.

“Awww you guys are so cute!” Chrissy coos, making you bite your lip in slight embarrassment.

Nancy and Robin high-five nonchalantly, before looking at you with huge smiles. Eddie’s arm wraps around you, pulling you into his side. You feel like a million bucks with him so close to you.

“You guys mind if we get out of here?” he says to the room. “I think we have a lot to catch up on,” he adds, glancing down at you with a wink.

You’d never been so happy to leave a party in your life. And maybe you didn’t even make it out of the parking lot of Steve’s complex before Eddie’s hands were all over you, but that’s your business.

[wonderlandwalker]

After All These Years | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: You think he no longer cares, and he thinks you're better off without him. But the reaping for the 75th hunger games puts a dent in both of those thoughts

Content Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, insinuations of smut, kissing, once again not proofread

Requested by @rottingpeache: absolutely need to see enemies to lovers with finnick. “I really don’t like you.” “And I really don’t believe you.”

Word Count: 1k

A/N: No clue if this is actually enemies to lovers or just a poor attempt at it. I'm gonna go take a nap now but there is more coming cause the requests sparked something in me again so thank you to everyone who sent them!!

None of you had expected it to happen, how could you? But you've learned by now there is no point in fighting it either. So when you heard Mags’ name being called out and you volunteered in her stead, you suppose it was simply out of habit. In a world like this, the only thing that makes you feel like you are surviving is helping others do the same thing. As you stepped forward you could see the cameras zooming in on your face, trying to capture every expression you were making. You saw the cameras do the same for Finnick. Years of being in an unwelcome spotlight had made his poker face almost unbreakable, but the small furrow of his eyebrows and the twitch in his gallant smile told you everything you needed to know.

It wasn't until the next day that he first spoke to you. Over the years you would see each other, of course, you would talk. But at all the events and all the parties you did nothing more than exchange pleasantries. But now he came out of your peripheral vision and cornered you against the wall behind you with his broad arms.

“What were you thinking, this might be the stupidest thing you've ever done.” His demeanour seemed angry, he seemed serious. But you had no reason to match it, you just wanted to get under his skin like he got under yours.

“Be careful what you say, you might actually be the stupidest thing I’ve done.” you wondered if he remembered, if he remembered the night you had spent together so many years ago, it had been the best night of your life, and you had no idea if he even remembered. If he did, he didn't let it show.

“Did you even think it through? You survived the arena once, and only barely, what makes you think you’ll make it out alive again.” His voice was a low rasp, and if you didn't know better, you'd say he sounded upset. But you knew better, Finnick had shown you his true colours when he started avoiding you, and you did remember that.

“I wasn't thinking, how could I? All I could think about was Mags having to go through it all again, you more than anyone else know she deserves better.” you were looking him in the eyes now, and it took all of your willpower not to melt. “My games weren’t that long ago, I did it then and I’m still here, I can do it again.” He stepped closer to you, eliminating the remaining space between your bodies, his chest against yours, and you could feel his heart skip a beat as he spoke.

“Exactly, I was there, and it damn near broke me too. I was there to piece you back together. But I won’t watch it happen to you again, I can’t let it happen. Because what if I’m not there this time, what if I'm not there to put you back together.” There was a stark contrast between his face and his voice. As you looked at him you saw his eyes soften, and it gave you a glimpse of the Finnick you once knew. But his voice was still filled with anger, and it snapped you back to reality.

“And how would you know what I can and cannot handle.” You were challenging him now, but he had you matched.

“Because I know you. Even if you don’t believe so, I know what youre like, I know how you think. You might believe I forgot, that I ignore you and go on with my life as if nothing happened. But if you were to actually think for one second you would see that I’m simply doing what's best for you, I just want what’s best for you but now you’ve gone and ruined all of it in one day. 

You’re at a loss for words, because maybe he was right, maybe you had gone and messed up everything with a single sentence at the reaping. But maybe everything was finally making a turn for the better, because for the first time, he was telling you he cared. And you’re thankful to finally see his thoughts shine through, but you’re overwhelmed too. So you turn around, you turn away from him, wanting to escape the confrontation. Except he’s not letting you go, not this time

“I really don’t care what you think Finnick.” You weren’t sure if you believed your own words, but you needed to get away from him.

“And I really don’t believe you.” You tried shrugging him off again, and you were about to turn away from him when you felt him grab onto your arm and pull you into him. As you looked up you could feel his eyes fixed on yours.

And so you do the only thing you can think of, you do the thing you want most in this moment right here, you kiss him. You tell yourself that consequences be damned, because even if he will hate you for it, even if you’ll regret it later, at least you have this one moment to get yourself through it, at least you didn't let your fears of losing him completely win this time.  You kiss him as if everything will be okay, because when you feel his lips start to move in sync with yours, it is. 

For a moment you think everything will resolve itself and you and Finnick can live together in a small house near the beach. For a moment you forget how much you hate him for everything he put you through. Because in this moment, if life could be like this moment, you’d forgive him for all of it. And you don't know it yet, but he’s even more scared than you are.

[liveontelevision]

MY FAVE POOKIE.... BY ANY CHANCE CAN.. CAN YOU WRITE FOR A VAMPIRE LUCI?? <3 I FEEL LIKE YOU'D CAPTURE HIM PERFECTLY

YOU'RE ONTO SOMETHING HERE BBG

(You're drawing of vamp Luci is literal eye candy and I'M IN A SUGAR COMAAA) I got way into the lore here I literally did nothing but write and edit this today - THAT BEING SAID this may need a 2nd part but lmk what y'all think

CW: He's a vamp, so.. blood in suggestive situations obvi

♡♡♡

Bite Me | Vamp Lucifer x Reader

"Isn't it just amazing?" You hold a book, opened to a certain illustration, far too close to your friend's eyes. They push the book back a bit just to get a peak, considering their nose was essentially in the pages. The paper reeked of dust and mildew. They subsided a sound of disgust to inspect the illustration you were so eager to show off.

"Oh! This is that weird mansion on the other side of town, but.. it looks..." 

"Stunning? This was what it looked like when it was first built and look-" You excitedly point out a certain tower, it was so thin and far back, that not even the pencil of the original artist could capture its true detail.

"Wait,  that's not there anymore, is it? Weird." Your friend shrugged it off, clearly not as invested as you. You scoff, pulling the book to your chest.

"Well.. not in the daytime, at least." You muttered. This was your hometown's rumor that's been spread for centuries. On the highest hill, past the overcrowded forest, sits the darkest and most foreboding manor anyone has seen. Even the oldest living relatives of those who have seen it, never recall what it looked like in its glory days. No one's quite sure when it was first built. It's as if it had always been there.

No one would really talk, only the seniors and the more.. eccentric.. People would even mention it. A tower that exceeded the height of the full moon, which was the only time it was visible to the naked eye. You've seen it yourself. But you were too inspired, too invested, to be satisfied with a little rumor and a single sighting.

You did your research. You scowered the forest, only to get lost for hours. You managed to find the manor, but in its close proximity, there was no sign of that tower. You found a book, shoved away under some shelf in your public library, depicting poorly written journal entries and illustrations. From what you could decipher, it was older than the town.. it must belong to its original tenants.

The handwriting was almost entirely illegible, which was disappointing, but the pictures inside.. they were crafted beautifully. Scenic drawings of the forest, animals, and a few of a stunning woman were scattered throughout. Every historian you tried to contact left your messages unopened. Any townspeople you'd show the pictures to, to see if they’d recognize the woman at least, looked at you like you were crazy.

Well.. crazy or not, there's only one real way to settle this.

You mark your calendar, circling every full moon for the rest of the year. And it nearly took that long to finally spot the tower, again. After all this time, restless nights where you'd fall asleep with the book in hand, strained sessions of trying to decipher the wording, yet it all got you nowhere. You'd lost friends because of this. You've skipped dates. All because of this damned tower. 

But finally, here it is! Ready to throw yourself from your bedroom window, you take the bag that had been packed for months in case of this very instant, but decide it best to leave through the front door.

You had memorized the path to the manor at this point. What could possibly be drawing you in so deeply? What history could this place possibly hold? Who was the woman drawn in this book.. and who was the artist? You stood in awe, finally seeing the tower up close. The manor itself seemed to be made of an entirely different stone. You jot down your notes and the differences you're seeing in a small book.

You nearly squeal at the sound of the creaking double doors, as you step inside. It wasn't your first time here, you reach into your bag to obtain the little map you had drawn out a few weeks back. Were you going insane? Who's to say? You traced your finger across a path you had drawn, then with determination, went towards the corridor that should lead you to whatever you were looking for.

You stopped and took pictures on occasion, observing things you have seen countless times over the past few months. It still managed to take your breath away. You turned around, stepping backward, to observe the intricate detailing of the high ceilings, letting out little ooh's and aah's you'd assume no one would hear. But you couldn't be sure.

You nearly stumble, turning to face the corridor head-on. A crumbling noise had sent a shock of fear and curiosity into your heart. Was this place ready to cave in? Did something else cause the destruction?

As you continue on, you decide it best to place headphones over your ears. With one ear still slightly free, you do your best to distract your fears and keep exploring. As you hum along, occasionally breaking out into song, your eyes are drawn to a small doorway that definitely was not there during your previous visits. It's made of a different wood than the other doors. It looks.. newer. The handle seems used as If the oils of a hand had worn down its clean coating. This has to be it. Your hand is shaking as you reach for the door, and your heart drops for a moment. It’s warm underneath your touch. With a final breath, you open the door.

It’s.. not exactly what you were expecting. The door led to an impossibly long spiral staircase, you weren't sure if you could make it to the top before daylight. It's too late to go back now, though. You dredge on. As you start your climb, the music from your headset turns to static. And what you expected to be a mile-long staircase ended in mere seconds. Confused by the distortion of the building, you pull out your little journal to document your new discovery as you continue on. 

The steps lead into the tower, you were sure of it. The bricks of the walls and the wood of the doors, it was all different than the manor below. It opened into a short hallway, with a few doors on either side. Opposite to you was a window. It wasn’t shattered or cracked, or even dusty. You press your hands against it and lean forward to see the view of your town. In a stereotypical, I can see my house from here! moment, you pull out your phone to take yet another picture, but.. it's dead. After being fully charged before your arrival. Of course. It's a magical tower that only appears on a full moon and has disappearing staircases, you weren't too shocked by sorcery after what you've exposed yourself to.

As you take in the terrifying height of the structure from the window, something happens that officially startles you for the first time tonight. You hear a gruesome cackling from behind a nearby doorway.

You quickly find its source, pressing your ear to the wooden door. You couldn't make out any specific words, but there was a voice. It was a man's voice. He seemed to laughing, then groaning and complaining about something, then talking some more.. quite a blabbermouth for someone who seems to be alone, you don't hear any other voices.

You have a weapon in your bag. It's nothing fancy, just a little switchblade, but you assumed it'd be enough to ward off at least a single person. Just in case. You decide to go in.

"Oh, who am I kidding, this sucks!" An exacerbated groan, and the sound of something crashing, can be heard as you crack the door open a bit. You peek inside.

A pacing man is surrounded by trinkets, books and tools in some kind of workshop. He looks human.. almost. You notice his skin is nearly paper white. It has a beautiful glow to it, that contrasts against his mostly black wardrobe. You clock his clothes as almost Victorian, a puffed blouse that cinches in at his waist with the assistance of a red-laced vest. His heels seem a bit tall for the time period, but even then, he's actually rather.. short. Despite that, his hair was slicked back but seemed to be coming undone. You watch him pace around for a while longer, finally capturing his arms running through his hair. They're tapered black, as if his hands were dipped in soot. How odd. You want a picture. You want to talk to him, to ask him questions.

You're too engrossed in the view you were spying on to notice he had stopped his jabbering and was now frozen in place at the sight of you. An awkward amount of time passes before either of you make a decision on what to do next.

You decide it best to just forget about this random encounter. This was obviously just another dream. It wasn't, but this wouldn't even be the strangest one you've had. You finally break eye contact, pulling the door shut behind you.

You lean your entire body against it, desperate to keep him contained until you can get your thoughts straightened out. Maybe he's nice! Maybe he's not an insane, inhuman, tinkerer who talks to himself. Before you can think a moment longer, the door opens and thoroughly knocks you to the floor. You scuff your knees and palms against the stone floor, hissing at the wounds before turning on your back to face your attacker.

Okay, it wasn't an attack, exactly. He just opened the door you were standing in front of. You were a little shocked, considering you were putting your full weight on it and he swung it open like nothing was there at all.

your widened eyes were met with his yet again. They seemed different than before. His irises were suddenly glowing a crimson red, staring down at you with a look of disgust. Your heart rate quickens as you finally catch more of his features. The glow of his eyes and the moonlight from the window show off a set of demonic horns, twisting and turning from his temples, and pointed ears. Then finally, you spot his frown- then his fangs.

You slowly crawl backward, making as much distance as you can before your back hits the cold stone of the wall. Your breathing rapidly as he kneels down, continuing to observe your tense body language from such a close distance.

"What is this- how did you get in? I made a whole fancy labyrinth for you little humans and you still manage to pester me." He seems curious now, still annoyed by the interruption, but curious. He catches the sight of your blade, taking it from underneath your hand.

"And you thought this could kill me?" He scoffs, tossing it to the side. "I thought the ones smart enough to get in would put more effort into their weapon of choice." He finally stands, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at you. His piercing red irises had you staring for an inappropriately long time. He looks around, then behind him, in disbelief that you'd be this lost in his eyes. He clears his throat to get your attention.

"N-no! I don't want to kill you, I swear! I just.. I wanted to..." Why were you here again? To find what's inside the haunted tower? To explore a rumor and find the truth? You'd hate to consider it.. but could you have been wasting all this time after finally being faced with the anticlimactic answer? Your silence doesn't seem to amuse the stranger.

"What, you just stumbled upon my hidden tower? That doesn't sound right. Well, I'll tell you now, I'm not some genie or wizard- I won't grant you wishes or anything stupid like that." He starts to head back to his office. "I have nothing to offer you, so just pretend this is a nightmare or something and go home." You see a little flame puff from his lips as he speaks, clearly irritated by your presence. 

"Wait- wait! I forgot!" You stumble to your feet, wincing at the pain in your scraped knees, but still going on to fumble through your bag. You find your tattered book. The relic that started this all.

"Is this yours?" He takes the book from your hand, skimming through the pages then glaring back up to meet your eyes. 

"Did you steal this?" You shake your head with haste, watching him continue to examine the book. "Then.. yes. This is mine. I'm surprised it's still in one piece." He stops at one of the drawings of the woman. He brushes his hand across the illustration with a dreamy sigh.

"She's beautiful." Your voice breaks his concentration and you see his pale skin turn ever so slightly pink. 

"She is, isn't she?" With a warm smile, you almost forget his threatening nature.

"Who was she?" He looks away from you, letting the book shut.

"It's not important. You need to leave." He leads you to the door. You try to keep up with his strides, only to fumble, your knees weak and bruised from the previous fall. He spots the bleeding scuffs and groans.

"Good lord, you humans are so fragile." You hear him grumble before he's turned on his heels and is dragging you back towards that workshop you intruded on. He grabs you by your arms and guides you to sit down at a little table he had set up. You examined the room after he had walked away. You saw his workbench. It held numerous little springs and gears, paints, and brushes. Looking to the side, you see a shattered figurine, probably what he had thrown during his little tantrum you spied on.

Seeing him standing above you stops your wandering eyes. He kneels down, already wrapping your wounded knees in gauze. You watched him silently. You were surprised at how comfortable the space seemed, considering a man with a demonic presence was currently tending to you like a nurse.

"So.. what are you exactly?" You finally blurted out. You had so many questions, but this was a good place to start.

"Oh. Um.. I think I hear humans referring to me as a vampire." Your blood runs cold and you squeeze the edge of your seat on either side. You feel his hand tremor for a moment, letting his eyes linger on your legs before finishing up one knee with a neat tie. He moves on to the next.

"So you're immortal and drink blood and all that?" He scoffs at your questioning shaking his head. You sound like a curious child.

"That’s.. Mostly correct. Actually, your human literature seemed to accurately portray a lot of my abilities. I'm almost impressed."

"Should I be scared?" You ask with an almost teasing tone, as if that weren't possible.

"Why? Do you think I'm scary?" He looks up for a moment, meeting your eyes. Its subtle, but you see them glowing just slightly. And it almost makes you nervous. Enraptured in an emotion you have to assume is fear, you watch his hands trail around and calf to bring your leg a bit closer. He sticks out his tongue. It's similar to a serpents’. Your eyes follow his tongue to your knee, where he licks the entirety of the wound.

In a state of shock, all you do is tense in your seat, wincing from his action. His tongue reels back, stained with the blood from your own wound. He lets out a breathy hum, before realizing his place.

"E-excuse me, I uh.. have healing properties..?" You cock your head to the side, the confusion in your mind quickly replaced with curiosity.

"Woah, really?" He finishes off your other knee.

".. No. Okay, all patched up. You have to leave." He said hurriedly before the realization could set in. He was embarrassed by his actions sure, but the sunrise softly lighting the room seemed to make him anxious.

"Wait- no! I have so many questions! Why do I have to go? How does this place just vanish in the daytime? Why are you here all alone?" You start to ramble as he manages to move you with ease. "A-at least tell me your name!" You say quickly, breaking from his grasp just before he can shove you out the door. He stops and lets out a sigh.

"Fine. Here." He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a small golden crystal attached to a necklace. Forcing your eyes down to his dipped neckline made you a bit red in the cheeks. With a quick motion, he swings it over your neck.

"This is an Asmodean crystal. You'll be able to see and enter my tower on any night now. You.. you're welcome to return when you see fit." You stare at the small gem in amazement.

"And.. you're just trusting me with this?"

He shrugs, smiling at you for the first time tonight. "You haven't given me a reason not to. You're definitely not a threat." You hum in response, despite his obvious condescending nature. giving the gem one last examination, you tuck it away into your own shirt.

".. And it's Lucifer."

You can't help but grin. “Okay! Time to go! The sun’s almost up!” He rushes you.

"Hm! I'll be back, then, I promise! I'll see you, Lucifer!" You excitedly wave and head back down the stairs. Lucifer.. Your mind was running with possibilities as you left. You turned to the door before leaving, but by the time you looked back, it was simply.. bricked over. You felt almost disappointed. But feeling for the necklace and twirling it between your fingers reminds you that this was all real. He's real.

Lucifer said you could visit. And so you did. While you passed out almost immediately once you returned home, you waited eagerly for the sun to set the next night. You check your window, again. With the crystal squeezed tightly in your fist, you see the familiar tower yet again, despite the full moon being nowhere in sight.

Unfortunately, you are human. You do have a life to live. It took you a few days before you could visit, again, but eventually you did. And it was perfect. Looking down upon in your hometown, it was refreshing to have a new friend. You told him about your own life, giving him some brief history lessons on things he might not know, and bringing him the stereotypical vampire merchandise from current media. He deemed it offensive.

You got him to talk about his past after some pushing. He was one of many brothers, all of them were bloodsuckers of their own accord.

"Wow.. so you came from a whole family of vampires? I mean.. if you don't mind me asking, why aren't you there? What brings you to my glamorous little town?" You say your last question with an eye roll. You were seated at a little bench, a comfortable nook that was set at the window in his workshop, as you watched him working on some sort of mechanical toy. You notice a slight frown tugging at his lips in response to your question.

"Hm. My brothers aren't exactly a fan of me. And you speak sarcastically, but it is actually quite nice here. The air is clearer, and there's much less fire." You look out the window as he's talking.

"Wait.. less fire than where?" He slipped up. You've noticed over these past few visits that he's not too keen on disclosing certain parts of his past. You see him stop what he's doing and curse under his breath.

"I.. I'm from a different realm, of sorts. It's dingy and dark and everyone there cares for nothing but bloodlust." He explains carefully.

"Damn, that sounds like Hell." You pull your knees to your chest, just attempting to sympathize with him by your words.

"You have no idea." He chuckles in response, seeming disarmed enough to continue his tinkering.

"Do you ever go back there? You have to see your family sometimes, right?" He's groaning quietly at your questions.

"Well, yes and no. I'm always here in my tower. And I put a lot of work into making it my own. I'd keep it here forever if I could, but it takes quite a bit of energy from me to keep it in good shape in this realm, so when the sun is out-"

"You return to your own realm! Wow.." you wished you had your book on you to write all this down. But it seemed unnecessary to bring a survival kit here. You felt so safe. 

"How about that lady? In your book? Is she someone from that realm? A family member, maybe?" You bombard him with questions yet again. You do that a lot. He looked over at you with an unenthused glare. You laugh nervously and wave your hands. "N-Nevermind, sorry."

He's made it clear that he doesn't appreciate all these questions. But when he does open up, you can't help but appreciate his fantastical stories.

Looking for a change in topic, you approach his bench, looking over whatever he was working on. With one final screw being turned in, he looks up to you and shows you the small trinket silently. You take it, a bit nervous of its delicacy, and examine it.

"It's fine, it won't break." He rolls his eyes at your nerves. "Like this." He places a hand below yours to steady your grasp and lifts the top of the little round structure to reveal a little sculpted scene. It’s of a pond, with some fish and ducks visible on the pond. It looked so real, despite its size. He smirks at your enthralled expression, reaching for a small key on the back and turning it. It releases a gentle tune, the ducks suddenly spinning and dancing across the pond.

"A music box..?" You question. You look towards him and notice his reaction. He looks almost nervous like he was expecting some harsh critique.

"It's beautiful, Lucifer! Did you use magic or something? This is so cool!" Your outburst leaves him slightly surprised, and just a bit blushed.

"Y-Yes, it is pretty, isn't it?" He says softly, looking away with a smile. By the time he's looking back to you, still enjoying the little trinket, the sun is just peaking from the hills. He should rush to get you out of there. Humans don't belong in his realm, definitely not this one.. but he doesn't want this to end. He wants to show you more, while he listens to you rant about something useless. He shakes his head to reality. He can't have these feelings. Not again.

"It's morning. I'm afraid you have to go, dear." You look just as disappointed as he does, but follow him to the exit either way.

"Wait, here-" You hold the intricate music box back out to him, but he closes his hands around yours, encasing it in your grasp.

"Keep it." His hands are cold. You notice that his skin is always cold, no matter the weather. You wonder if he thinks about the warmth of your hands just as much. Your hands are held together for a bit too long, but the sight of your face in the golden light of the sunrise has him frozen in place.

"What happens if I stay?" Your hasty question snaps him away, quickly tucking his hands behind his back.

"Absolutely not." He says sternly, reaching around and opening his door. "Sorry.. I just.. It’s not safe. You’ll be back though, right?." He smiles, and it always disarms you. Briefly disappointed, you nod and give him a quick wave. You head back to your regular vampire-free life for the time being.

You find yourself back in his workshop, a few months later. The visits were becoming more frequent and neither of you seemed to complain about it.

Since then, the room has been decorated with pillows or blankets you've brought. On occasion, you'd go to see him just to sleep uncomfortably on the small cushioned nook near the window. He never seemed to mind. He'd wake you up carefully before the sun rose.

Other times, you'd bring him tools or gifts from your hometown that he might like, and occasionally you'd get him to eat actual food.

One night you set out one of your blankets on the ground and forced him to sit with you, after seeing him get flustered with whatever he was working on.

"Can you actually eat? Does it do anything for you?" He shrugs in response to your question, popping a little chocolate confection into his mouth.

"Not really. It's more for enjoyment than anything. And these are definitely enjoyable." As he hums at the sweets, he moves to lie down across the blanket, resting his head in your lap. "Where are they from?"

You look down at the little heart-shaped box you've both been taking the treats from and cringe.

"A.. uh.. person. It was a gift. Someone tried to take me out for Valentine's Day, but I wasn't interested." You say quietly.

"Right.. it’s Valentine’s Day… Well, what was wrong with them? Were they rude to you? Ugly?" He asks between bites. You laugh and take a chocolate for yourself.

"No, nothing like that.. they just..." They weren't you. "N-not my type is all." You stammer, quickly shoving the chocolate into your mouth. What are you thinking? He's laughing at you now.

"So you'd rather spend your Valentine's Day with an old crone?" He was joking, but he was right.

"Yeah.. I think I would, actually. I love visiting you." You said calmly, trying your best to keep the compliments.. platonic. Peeking down at him for a second, you notice his tense posture and pink cheeks.

"I-I just- it's not that big a deal, I mean, I've never really celebrated Valentine's Day anyway, so.." You start to fidget with your crystal necklace, picking at the thread and running your thumb along its smooth surface.

"Well..! Then... I'm glad you're enjoying my company, I suppose." He tries to de-escalate the brief tension. You change the subject matter.

"Well, if we're getting on my social life, then I have a question." You finally say. He seems nervous for a moment but is playing it cool to the best of his ability.

"Shoot."

"So, you stay in your tower all day, don't see your family, I don't even hear you talk about that woman from your drawings.. Have you just been alone this whole time?"

He freezes for a moment, before putting a chocolate back into the box and clearing his throat.

"No.. not the whole time." He sighs, standing and going to fetch something. He returns to sit across from you and you’re a little disappointed he didn’t return his head to rest in your lap. It was a journal, it had a similar binding to the one you had found over a year ago.

"Her name is Lillith." He starts, flipping the pages and stopping at one of her drawings. "She's from my realm, and.. we fell in love." For some reason, your heart ached at his words. "I decided to show her this place many years ago, and she wanted to see a nearby village, so.. we went down there together. It was disgusting. People were treating each other so foul, it was loud and dirty, and there was no sign of intelligence." His voice goes dark for a moment, allowing you to flip through the book. "But Lillith loved them. She saw their potential and.. wanted to stay with them. So we made a deal. She'd explore the village when the full moon was out and then return to me the rest of the time."

You look up from the book, seeing that her drawings had stopped about halfway through. The rest of the book was empty.

"So is she.." you mutter, letting the book drop to see his pained expression.

"I haven't seen her in years. Might be decades at this point, but.. it's hard to keep track. I have no idea where she could be, but if she ever returns then-"

"You're waiting for her?" You interrupt, your voice has a hint of irritation to it.

"Hm. I guess I am. I've given up trying to find her, but I still keep this place standing. Just in case." His face reads dejected as he speaks.

"Do you still love her?" You ask. Of course, he does. He's a romantic, waiting for his long-lost love to return. But he looks at you, with a worried expression. Like he wanted to reassure you that wasn't the case.

"I..I do." He says softly. You feel your chest aching still, and you clench the blanket in your fists on either side of you. "I think so? I-I'm not sure." He groans, running his hands through his hair. "Is that terrible of me?" 

You think for a moment. You have to tread lightly. If he truly loves her, it might be best for you to keep your distance to avoid any.. confusion. You let out a defeated sigh, placing your hand on his shoulder to bring his panicked attention back to you.

"Not at all. It's.. nice. That you can love someone that much, especially after all this time." He smiles in return, placing a hand over top of yours.

"How long has it been, do you think?"

"Hmm.. From what I remember.. when were hot air balloons invented?" He genuinely questioned.

"Good lord."

(The answer is over 300 years ago)

You stopped visiting him for a while. After that night, you needed to step away and consider what you were really doing. He's not just an immortal vampire, he's an immortal vampire still holding out hope for a woman he hasn't seen in centuries. And you're just a human. That kind of relationship only works in movies. The sleep schedule you've created has nearly destroyed your social life and you barely have energy in the daytime anymore. Maybe it was for the best to keep your distance. But you have to tell him that. You can't just disappear, he doesn't deserve to feel that pain, again.

You enter his tower as usual, bringing an empty bag to escort some of your belongings back home. To your apartment, your awful tiny apartment. You avoid comparing it to the elegant manor, it's only making you want to back out. You go through the hall, swinging his workshop door open.

"Luciferrr! Sorry to be away for so long, but I think we should talk." You look around to realize you are speaking to an empty room. You look back to the hall. You've never been through any of the other rooms, but he had to be somewhere. And he wasn't responding to your calls.

You open each door carefully, seeing mostly empty storage and cobwebs. One of the rooms was filled to the brim with clothing from all decades. You make a mental note to tease him for playing dress up, later.

You knock at each door, finally opening one that greets you with the warmth of a bedroom. And by warmth, you mean it. You take any coat you were wearing off, finally spotting Lucifer lying in the elegant bed in the center of the room.

"Huh.. I thought you said vampires don't need sleep." You call out, letting your eyes scan the room as you approach the bedside. He's curled up and unresponsive. His sudden panting briefly eased your nerves, at least he’s breathing.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to just barge in, but.. Lucifer? Are you okay?" You reach out and place your hand to his shoulder. He's hot to the touch. You move his body so that he's lying on his back, and he seems even more distressed.

"L-Lucifer..? Lucifer!" You try to speak quietly, but his actions are making you nervous. He finally shoots upward, gripping his bare chest in an attempt to calm his rapid breathing. He does a double take, not believing that you were at his side. Not to mention your scared expression, which is only causing him more concern.

"I-I'm alright! I'm okay.." He lets out a sigh, brushing his hair back. He scans the room, peering out the window. "Ah, nighttime already? I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to worry you." He turns back to you, seeing your still-shaken expression. "I slept in! It's okay!" He reassures, patting the side of his bed. You hesitate, but sit down either way.

"I thought.. You didn’t need sleep." You say softly, looking to calm yourself.

"I don't, but it is relaxing sometimes."

"That didn't look relaxing at all."

"Well.. I did say only sometimes." You let out a quiet chuckle and it brings a smile to his face.

"I rest when I'm feeling a bit weak, usually a quick nap helps. But.. sometimes I get nightmares and they're-" You interrupt him.

"Weak? Why are you feeling weak? Did something happen?" You lean in, still feeling uneasy.

"... Just a bit. Don't get me wrong, I am quite powerful-” He loves to gloat about his abilities, your usual reactions of amazement never got old. “-but.. this tower takes its toll on me sometimes. It takes a lot of energy to set up illusions and tricks to keep humans out. I just needed a quick pick me up, that's all." That seemed to calm you a bit, but it did bring up another concern.

"Lucifer.. why do you keep coming back here? Is it worth the trouble? Is.. she worth the trouble?" You ask timidly. His eyes are soft, looking in your direction. It turns you a bit red, you hope you can blame it on the heat of the room if he asks.

"I don’t know.. I’ve been thinking. I-If Lillith has any plans on returning, I'd think she would've done so by now." You feel hopeful, but you attempt to not let it show. "But, I've been here for centuries and I've grown rather fond of... the atmosphere." He tries to reason. He pulls your chin forward, greeting you with a sweet smile. "I'm alright, I promise."

You can't help but return the smile, but you miss his touch once he pulls away. At this point, you're finally taking in his appearance. He's covered in sweat, the bags under his eyes are tremendous and his lips are trembling a bit to keep up a smile.

"Are you sure? You still seem.." You reach your hand out, as if you were about to touch his face, but you see him reel back.

"Clearly, I didn't get a good night's rest.. maybe you should head home, dear, I'm not much fun to be around when I'm like this.." He sulks, making it a point to avoid looking at you. With just the sight of you, he might as you to stay.

"No!" His wide-eyed expression shows that you've clearly just embarrassed yourself. "No, I mean- I don't want to leave. Can I help? Can you.. drink my blood or something? Would that do anything?" He's immediately blushing at your suggestion, right to the tips of his ears. He quickly declines.

"No. Nonono.. That is not happening." He crosses his arms over his still bare chest, which neither of you has mentioned yet. That’s not to say you haven't been staring.

"Would it help?" You ask. He sighs and nods. "Would it kill me?" He shakes his head. "Not if I'm careful.."

"Will it turn me into a vampire or something?" He shakes his head, again.

"Then do it. I want to help you! It's the least I can do since you’ve been so sweet to me." You say sternly, beginning to move the strap of your shirt, revealing a bare shoulder.

"Woah woah, okay. Fine.. I’ll just take a little. Since you're so insistent." He moves your strap back up your shoulder carefully. "And there's no need for that, dear, don't get too excited." He teases. He looks like he’s on the brink of death, yet he still manages to make fun of you.

"I-I'm not excited! Shut up.." you stammer, as you feel him pull your hand towards him, keeping a grip just below your wrist.

"Whatever you say." His smirk has you blushing, again." you ready?" You nod your head, attempting to keep a straight face despite the reality of the situation.

He leans forward to face you, and you move closer to be more comfortable. With his clawed hands still holding your arm delicately, he brings your palm to his lips. You feel his hot breath against your skin and instinctively flex your hand. He stops abruptly and looks at you.

"I-I'm fine, just do it already!" He rolls his eyes and positions his fangs right at the pulse point on your wrist. With a deep breath from both of you, he sinks his teeth into your flesh. The skin is thin there, so it wasn't as painful as you thought it would be.

It's awkward for a moment, you don't feel any different at first. But looking towards Lucifer, you see his eyes turning that glowing crimson red that had startled you when you first met. Sure, it still startled you now, but it was Lucifer. He's not as scary as he looks, you tell yourself. You feel a breath of hot air from his nostrils, realizing he had been holding his breath this whole time. His eyes fluttered shut, and that's when you felt it.

It felt like getting your blood drawn, but his fangs were less painful than the needles somehow. You'd only notice your hand start to fall asleep after a while. But his expression stopped you from saying anything. His heavy breaths against your skin, as he occasionally pulled away to lick the wound clean, only to sink his teeth back in the same spot. You placed your free hand over your mouth to prevent any noises from escaping your lips. He pulled off for a moment, then sunk his teeth in another spot, feverishly placing multiple bite marks across the entirety of your wrist. You attempt to speak up through your hand.

"L-Lucifer.. I-I'm..!" He stops almost immediately, sitting up straight and blinking his eyes back to their usual hue. He looks down to your wrist, a mess of bite marks, all still leaking your crimson blood. Your hand had fallen slack.

"Sorry! Sorry-" He runs his tongue across the wounds, it seemed to stop the blood for now. "How do you feel?" Your eyes are dazed a bit, and when you go to prop yourself up on your previously ravished wrist you fall forward. He catches you by your arms, before you can fall away from the bed. You shake your head, finally looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

"I'm okay.." you say weakly. He's nervously trying to keep your head up, and brushing hair away from your face. He moves to the other side of the bed, and brings you along to lie down beside him. He sits on his knees to examine you, keeping a hand cupping your cheek. It's cool to the touch again, a relief for you. You shakily place your hand on top of his, then look towards him. "You look amazing, Lucifer~" You say with a dizzy smile. Despite the wording, you were right. His skin had brightened up, and he instantly lost the bags from his eyes.

"I might've done too much.." He mumbled, tracing his free hand across your wrist. "You're starting to sound crazy."

"No..! I mean it, you're just.. beautiful.. quite a sight." You're delirious. He starts to worry, suppressing his excitement for the oncoming compliments. He'll have to let you rest, no matter how disappointed that made him. He'd missed your company these past few days.

"Whatever you say, darling. Go ahead and rest, I'll get you some water." And he does just that.

You had left some water bottles and snacks here a few months ago, so he hastily took those and brought them back to you. He set everything on the nightstand and went over to open the glass doors to the balcony of his room, bringing in a fresh night breeze. He put an actual shirt on, finally, on the way to look over you from the side of the bed. 

You were just sitting up, leaning against the headboard as you took a very needed gulp of water.

"So? How did I taste?" You tease, stretching your hand now that you’re regaining feeling.

"Delicious." He sounds flirtatious but almost serious. It has you blushing.

Lucifer had gone off to work on something after you insisted you'd be fine and just needed a few more minutes of rest. That didn't go how you expected. You came here to set some boundaries and here you are in his bed, covered in bite marks. The implications alone made you groan from embarrassment.  And slightly in disbelief. You huff and attempt to stand, it’s not too bad, then move to the balcony and lean against the railing. The breeze ran through your hair and across your heated face, you let out a sigh of relief.

"Feeling better, dear?" His voice has you turning your head a bit, and you greet him with a smile. You nod your head before returning your eyes to the town below.

“I’m glad. Thank you, for.. Letting me do that.” He says, sounding a bit shy. He joins you, leaning against the railing by your side. You both stand in silence for a moment.

"I think I'm in love with you, Lucifer." Maybe it was the blood loss or the sheer exhaustion, but something just forced those words from you. You keep your eyes away from him. If this could be the last time you see him, bringing this dream to an end, then you might as well let it out.

"O-Oh..! Hm! Well, that's uh.." He hoots, and you see his hands flexing against the railing. He can't even form a real response.

"It's stupid, I know. I'm a human, and you're this crazy immortal being. Plus, you just drank my blood. Maybe I'm still delirious.." You continue to toy with your gifted necklace, still keeping your eyes low. You don't know how you would react if you could see his expression right now.

"So.. you would... you want to be with me?" That's what he asks? That's his response?

"I-I mean.. yeah. You're my best friend, you're handsome and smart, and you're inventive and... I just love being around you. I want to.. I want to make you happy, but I just don't know if that's something I can do." Your gaze is finally brought to his when his claws gently guide your chin towards him. His expression is that of pure infatuation. You'd never expect to see him look like this, not when looking at you.

"You make me plenty happy, darling." Your eyes go wide.

"You're bright and fun, and you're adorably curious- I just worry as well. I'll outlive you. I've been locked up here for so long, I don't know how much I can offer you.. but it's definitely less than you deserve." His words send a pain to your chest. You both know, based on fact alone, it just wouldn't work.

"I only want you to be happy as well, love." His words force a nervous sigh from you. This seems like a night for bold decisions, so you decide to make another. You turn to face him, bring him in by his collar, and press your lips against his in one fell swoop. Giving him no time to comprehend the situation, he lets out a muffled exclamation into your lips. It felt like hours before you feel his hands on your waist, and his lips desperately ravishing yours. He pulls you closer to him, his hands now reaching your hips and gripping you tighter. You pull his lower lip down with your thumb, keeping a hand on his jaw as you do so, and begin to explore his mouth with your tongue feverishly. A small yelp at the boldness comes from Lucifer before his forked tongue is dancing with yours. You can still taste your own blood on his lips.

He turns the both of you, having your back pressed against the railing of the balcony, giving him the chance to corner you into being as close as possible. He leans his chest into yours, moving in even more. You're leaning over the railing just slightly, but one of his hands is firmly planted against your back, giving you a sense of security. The other is still gripping at your hips, occasionally slipping upwards to brush the bare skin beneath your top, his cool touch acting as a reminder that this is really happening. He props his knee between your legs, having to force them apart gently to do so.

You pull away with a deep exhale after realizing you've been anxiously holding your breath this whole time. Even leaning away from him, your mind was running rapidly with thoughts of his body. You trace your thumb over his lips, parting them just slightly to examine his fangs. He's turning red with the close inspection.

"W-What are you doing..?" You understand what he's trying to say, but his words are still muffled by your hold on him. He sees your eyes ponder for a moment before you look back to him.

"Bite me." You say sternly. Your hand slips away from his mouth and you start speckling small kisses across his forehead and cheeks, lifting his head slightly with a kiss to his jaw.

"Excuse me?? You want-" You hush his stammering by pulling back, to look into his eyes one more time.

"I want you to bite me.. my neck, I mean." You clearly weren't budging. He still seems hesitant but proceeds to move any hair away from your shoulder

"What, does someone enjoy being bitten?” He asks in a teasing tone, looking at you with a smirk. With a deadpan expression, your eyes brimming with lust, you take a hold of his collar again and pull him into a messy kiss. When you pull back, you see a dazed Lucifer, struggling to keep eye contact.

“Yes.”

He huffs, completely enthralled in your enthusiasm, but still seeming nervous. He pulls the strap to your shirt to the side, examining your collarbone and neck. You hear him gulp, as he runs his hand upward until it’s cradling the back of your head.

“I tend to lose myself a little. You saw what happened before, are you sure-"

"I'm sure. I'll tell you if you have to stop." Still very adamant about it, Lucifer pulls your head to one side as you keep your grip on his shirt, balling the fabric in your fists with anticipation.

He places a small kiss first, the action causing you to flinch slightly. You feel him smile on your neck, clearly enjoying your reaction. He kisses every inch of you, each one becoming sloppier than the last.

After thoroughly leaving you in a dazed state of affection, he traces his face to the softest part of your neck, just above your collarbone, and quickly snaps through the skin. With a startled yelp, you glide your hand upward until you've taken a tight grip onto his hair. You barely have time to appreciate how soft it is before you feel the sensation of his fangs piercing a different spot of flesh.

He doesn't seem to be taking much blood.. Definitely not as much as before and not as quickly. It's leaving your head slightly fuzzy, making any sensations, any marks he's leaving on your body, blur into an overall bliss. You're thoughtlessly letting out little moans and gasps at each bite, only encouraging him to keep it up. You feel the vibrations of his groaning against your skin as he moves to hold you tightly around your waist. After a few moments, you start to feel a bit woozy, your body completely melting into his touch. You tap his shoulder quickly,

"Ah.. Lucifer-" Just as before, he made sure to clean any wounds that were still dripping with blood, but he went on to embellish each one with a kiss before pulling away. He looks at you with concern, cupping your cheek and bracing the weight of your lulling head. You smile and hum into his palm.

"How are you doing, darling?" He actively inspects your entirety before meeting your eyes again.

"Lovely~" You say with a drunken chuckle. He pulls you in for another kiss, before easily scooping you up.

"Alright, then.. let's get you to bed, you little perv.” You hit his chest to the best of your ability in your weakened state. His laughter is music to your ears. You’re too tired to worry about how this will affect your relationship. Or your physical health for that matter. But for now, nothing has felt more comforting than his arms wrapped around your body, the cold soothing the heated moment, and your dizzy mind.

♡♡♡

!Taglist!

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness / @misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @the-maladaptivedaydreamer / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest )

[delirious-donna]

There’s No Better Love [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: entirely inspired by this absolutely amazing art of Hiromi with a soft little tum (link to twitter here). I ADORE soft bellies, and I am here to spread the agenda to normalise this in both men, women and they/them. They are beautiful and I will nuzzle those pooches just like they deserve.

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: none really, soft fluff, domestic vibes, body positivity throughout, suggestive at best, reader loves her husband unconditionally (as she should)

Masterlist

Higuruma enjoys a nice long soak, a fact that you’ve come to appreciate even more than when you found him all those years ago submerged whilst fully suited on that dimly lit stage. That was the day that your life changed forever, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Since then, he tends to stick to more traditional bathing practices, though he has been known to drag you kicking and screaming into the shower when you are both still fully dressed. You had to admit, there was something weirdly satisfying about the experience, almost cathartic, but you continued to bristle when he chuckled and gave you that knowing look. The one where he is certain he’s won and you’re not sure whether you want to smack him or kiss him. No prizes for guessing which option usually wins out…

In lieu of fully clothed bathing, Hiromi takes to visiting a bathhouse on his way home from work once every few weeks. Usually on a Friday, and especially during those weeks where he feels like his workload will never end.

You can always tell when he’s done exactly that, acutely aware of the zen-like hum that radiates from him as soon as he steps through the door. His smile is lax—dopey and carefree. His normally dark, calculating eyes have grown warm and shiny, still just as tired but less sore. A blush decorates his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and of course, his hair is still damp because he never takes the time to dry it fully before tripping his way home to you on a cloud of relaxation.

Many things have changed since that first fateful encounter, so many that it would take an age to list them all out, but right now, your focus falls to that of his stomach. Half undressed, Hiromi stands by the sliding wardrobes with his shirt hanging open. His trousers spill messily from the laundry hamper, leaving him in his underwear and black socks. His stomach forms a soft pooch, a beautiful curve that has you capturing your lip between sharp teeth.

Decorated with black downy hair from navel to the band of his shorts, you reminisce of the days when that subtle tum was simply flat. No real meat to his abdomen to speak of, although he was still strong and was even more so today. A fact he revels in proving by hoisting you onto the nearest surface to have his wicked way with you. Back then though, taking care of himself had always fallen low on his list of priorities, and if that meant he skipped a meal or two to catch up on his emails, then so be it and his physique bore the evidence of his focus.

The evidence of his shifting priorities warmed your heart, a sentimental smile tugging at your lips and it brought you to the edge of the bed. His eyes caught yours in the reflection of the mirror, eyebrows crinkling in question whilst you simply held out a hand for him, which he took without thought.

“Something wrong?” He asked. His other hand found your cheek, palm cupping gently whilst his thumb stroked lovingly across your soft skin.

You hummed. “Far from it. Have I told you lately how much I love this little tummy?” Leaning forward, your nose nuzzled against the small pooch, the coarse hairs tickling at your cheek, until he tensed and tried to suck it in.

“Hey! Don’t do that,” you chastised, glancing up from beneath your lashes with a snort of annoyance exhaled through your nose. Hiromi rubbed at his neck, embarrassed perhaps, but you weren’t having any of that. Not when he so openly worshipped your body. It was his turn to be on the receiving end for once.

“You’ve been over feeding me,” he grumbled with his bottom lip jutting out in a mock pout.

Hiromi let out a yelp as your teeth nipped at his stomach, head snapping down to meet your fiery eyes and he had the decency to look away sheepishly. “I think you’ll find, that I have simply been feeding you. And anyways…” You murmured, drawing a little loveheart next to the pink mark from your bite. “It’s cute. Makes me feel like you’re truly comfortable with me, with us and our life.”

“An understatement, darling.” His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair. “Now, why don’t you come up here and kiss me where I can return the favour, hm?”

Moving to your knees, you wound an arm around his neck and claimed his lips just as he asked. There was no urgency, no fumbling or groping hands divesting you of clothes, only that sweet connection of two people so in love that they couldn’t bear to be parted. And yet, part you must. The need for oxygen an irksome necessity when you would much rather breathe in your husband until your lungs seized up entirely.

“Mm, I can smell the oils from the bathhouse on you,” you murmured, moving your lips to his jaw, down his neck and across his clavicle, leaving wet little kisses along the way. “Did you have a nice soak?”

Hiromi sighed in contentment, letting his body relax and return to its normal stature. He felt his small but obvious belly sag, brushing against your own and he tipped his head in wonder.

“Mhm. Feels nice to lie back and let the stresses of the week slough off. Do you… do you really like it?” He asked, hands settled at your waist and tracing his thumbs in slow circles over the cushion of belly. It was ridiculous to be self-conscious about something like this, but the feeling existed nonetheless. Hiromi knew that had the situations been reversed, with you being the one asking such a silly question, he would waste not a second in proving just how much he loved every inch of you—both with verbose enthusiasm and physical reinforcement of his words.

“Hiro.”

Your fingers skimmed his shoulders, pulling free the shirt that resided on his back. You explored the structure of him; the ridges of bones, the strength of lithe muscles, skin dappled in dark hairs and marked by a small number of scars. Every freckle deserved attention and you followed the path your fingers traversed with your mouth, listening to his breathing grow irratic and stuttered.

“I love the very bones of you. The sinew and tendons. The blood pumping through your heart and moving…” you paused, glancing down deliberately. “To every organ and limb. This stomach proves to me that you’re happy, and whether it stays like this or grows bigger, I will continue to love it, and you.”

He let out a sigh when your lips trailed lower and your tongue peeked out to lick at his happy trail. Hiromi cupped your jaw, waiting until your gaze lifted to gift you a smile that reached his eyes and twinkled with the mischief you were accustomed to. With soft fingers you kneaded his hips and around to his backside to give a squeeze.

“I think you’ve made your point, you little minx,” he hissed, though he couldn’t prevent the breathless giggle that accompanied the words.

“Y’know… I don’t think I have, but let me remedy that,” you purred, reaching for the waistband of his underwear and forcing him one step closer. “We’ve got the rest of our lives, after all…”

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ making a run for it ]❜

ft. mysta rias, ike eveland, vox akuma, shu yamino, luca kaneshiro (separate) x gn! reader  — luxiem, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ how difficult is it to escape from them?┊3k words

contains: yandere!! obsessive & possessive behavior, kidnapping & isolation, chains, mention of death, delusions, forced physical affection, overuse of the word “love”, overprotectiveness, probably inaccurate vox lore, possibly ooc, not proofread or beta-read, this is a train wreak of sewn together thoughts

➤ author's note: the image quality is so bad ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ i don’t watch luxiem that much and don’t really write for them as a result, but that should change because they are cuties

you lost track long ago of how many days it’s been since you’ve been captured, morning and night blurring together since your enclosure had no windows— it must have been nearly a year since you remember him saying something about your first anniversary coming up. the cold metal cuff around your ankle was just as heavy as when it was first fastened, the chain just long enough for you to reach the corners of the room and the bathroom while being fastened to the leg of his bed. you had every inch of it memorized and explored: the books were worn from being read so many times, the area was spotless without a speck of dust because you kept cleaning the place up, and the most excitement you ever got was from another movie getting added to the streaming service on the television since he didn’t let you have any access to the internet.

just like a bird in a cage, you’ve been locked away and isolated for only your captor’s eyes at night when he comes home from his daily activities. you no longer had any other purpose in the world than to be his to adore and admire, to spoil with material gifts that couldn’t fill the empty hole in your heart, and to be the object of his delusions that you feel the same. the thought of remaining here for the rest of your life as his ‘lover” made you shudder and feel sick to your stomach, a thought that you simply couldn’t get used to even though all hope seemed to be lost. you missed your family and friends dearly, already beginning to forget their faces and the sound of their laughter to your horror. you had to escape somehow no matter what the cost may be, preferably alive and fully intact, but you had no idea if their love for you would be greater than their rage when they found you missing.

━━━ .°˖✧ mysta rias ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ once you had a general idea of what you do, you were a bit hesitant to put it in motion since you didn’t have the specifics in mind and terrified that it would all go wrong with how flimsy it was, but you would never be able to leave if you didn’t take courage. however, if you knew that it would have been so easy and that everything went exactly as you planned, you would have done it ages ago. you couldn’t describe the euphoria you felt when the warm rays of the sun kissed your skin and the gentle breeze welcomed you to the outdoors, practically skipping off to make your long-awaited escape. truly, you were a fool to think it would have been so simple when you were up against a genius detective.

╰₊✧ maybe mysta let you run away on purpose just so that he could drag you back for the fun of it, would you believe it? running away was the easy bit, the real challenge is staying away. despite his laid-back and careless attitude, he’s quite the sadist who loves the image of happiness draining from your eyes and being re-filled with sheer terror when he finds you in the next country over. you’ll be completely helpless against him as he drags to back to his home, tearing you apart from new loved ones just as he did before. it’s so easy for him to destroy all the optimism of being free and sinking back into the despair of being his. it doesn’t matter how much you try to cover your tracks, how far you run, how much you alter your appearance with an identity change, he’ll track you down because the red string of fate always brings him back to you.

you can’t help but feel cold when he holds you, useless as the feeling of desolation rendered you unable to fight against him. you just let yourself be limp and wallow in how pathetic you are, trying to muffle your cries against his shoulder even though you soaked the orange fabric. he didn’t even bother saying any words of comfort and just patted your head your head with his gloved hands, but you both knew that it was an empty gesture that wouldn’t console you in the slightest. there was nothing he could due to make you feel better when he’s the source of all of your woes, so he doesn’t really bother with it.

for any normal person, the tears of their partner would shatter their heart to pieces, especially if they were the reason for it. they would apologize, buy gifts, and do anything they could to show their remorse because they love them. mysta loves you too, he loves you so much, but he loved your misery even more. there’s nothing that he enjoys more than your teary eyes like little crystals brimming over and the cute little sobs you would let out while trying to hide how much he influenced your emotions. he’s sick, so sick, but there’s nothing that could cure him, not even attempts to snap him out of his cruel ways and make him love you in a healthy manner.

━━━ .°˖✧ ike eveland ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ a man with intelligence, but no remarkable prowess to stop you from leaving. he doesn’t have extraordinary deduction skills like mysta, magic like shu, an influence like luca, or inhuman powers like vox, but he has his own charms that work in his favor and keep you by his side. he’s just so… sweet and gentle. you can feel his love radiating in his actions and his words, almost making you forget about the fact you were being held captive entirely. his kindness is the main hurdle, making guilt pool in your stomach because you feel like you were betraying his kindness when he took care of you and treated you like a queen.

╰₊✧ you thoroughly believe that you would have fallen in love with him properly if given the time to do so, but unfortunately, he turned out to be batshit crazy and no amount of bonding is enough to make you completely forget that. once your resolve is solidified that it wasn’t love he felt for you but was instead pure unaltered obsession, putting your plot into action feels more possible. it’s more difficult than escaping from the detective who purposely let you go, but if you manage to outsmart the novelist, you’ll finally find yourself free.

he whistles as he walks down the corridor, holding a silver tray in his hands that has a glass of strawberry lemonade and two decadent slices of cake in your favorite flavor. there’s nothing like spending time with the one he loves the most and a sweet treat in the mid-afternoon, a little pep in his step to show just how excited he is for this routine that occurs about twice a week. in his satchel, he holds a few novels that he thinks you would enjoy and will be asking for your thoughts about the previous books he gave you as he always does. everything was perfect from the weather to his mood to your love life, he doesn’t think anything would be able to ruin it.

at least he thought there wasn’t anything that could ruin it, unable to explain how far his heart dropped when he couldn’t find you anywhere. he ran about the manor in a frenzy, thoroughly searching through every room and crevice while calling out your name. rushing back to your shared bedchamber to properly examine the scene of the crime where he last saw you, he realized that the chain had been broken somehow. he felt dizzy and ill, falling into an armchair and throwing his head back to try and make the world stop spinning.

he couldn’t believe this was happening after everything was going so well! did he do something wrong? did he upset you or offend you in some way? he racks his brain for anything he might have said or done for you to leave him, so deep in his delusions of true love that he doesn’t even consider the fact that kidnapping you and holding you against your will for about a year would have anyone running for the hills. maybe you would come back on your own, finding it in your heart to forgive him and return to be his again? who is he kidding, you’ll never come back unless he looks for you himself! he’ll go and give you flowers and chocolates, and if you still reject him, he’ll simply persist until you remember how much you love him! he’ll follow you to the ends of the earth to remind you of your relationship with him because the two of you were always meant to be together!

━━━ .°˖✧ shu yamino ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ similar to ike, shu is a very smart and clever person, but unlike the novelist, he has quite a few tricks up his sleeve. for instance, his home is laced with so many traps that are installed by his magic, like a temple straight out of indiana jones to protect his treasure. of course, he is the only one who can enter and exit as he pleases— the protection spell isn’t just there to keep you in, it’s also there to keep anyone who may be looking for you out. once he detects that someone is in his property, a simple snap of his fingers teleports you somewhere else until they leave. sometimes you find yourself in an abandoned city or the middle of a grassy field without warning, terrified but unable to find help no matter how far you try to run. wherever you are, he always knows the exact location and can summon you back just as easily as he banished you.

╰₊✧ he acts as though nothing happened, chatting just like he did before you found out his true colors. you can hardly even tell that he has such a manic love for you, remaining awkward as ever while referencing memes that you’ll never understand since you don’t have any interaction with the outside world. he isn’t half as delusional as the other boys, knowing that his affection for you is completely unrequited and will never be reciprocated, yet he still did it anyway because he just couldn’t help himself. you don’t understand this enigma of a man in the least bit, shrugging his shoulders like he didn’t completely alter the course of your life and give you lasting trauma, but at least he doesn’t force affection on you… which is the bare minimum and you are still set on leaving.

the creaking of the door was enough to make you panic a bit, filling the disturbingly quiet house. you weren’t quite sure where shu was, but if he wasn’t with you, then he wasn’t here at all. this was the first time you had left the room and the first time you were exploring the house since you were unconscious when he brought you in. it looked standard, like your average, run-of-the-mill home that you would see in television shows, and impossible to guess that there was a prisoner inside. as a result, it was pretty easy to navigate the place and you found what you thought was the exit within minutes. you found a set of keys hidden in a living room drawer and decided to test them out in the front door, not knowing of the traps and naively thinking it would be simple.

unable to contain your excitement, you prepared to inset the first one into the knob, but before it even touched it, the sound of alarms like a thousand cymbals blaring through your ears and making you drop everything from the surprise. you had no idea where the noise was coming from nor did you know how to stop it, quickly dawning on you that you fucked up. running towards a nearby window, you attempted to push it up to climb out of it, but it only seemed to make the sound louder. when you saw a neighbor walking by with a dog, you tried banging on the glass to grab their attention, but it was like you were a ghost and they continued on with their day not knowing they were being begged for help. clearly, his magic was surrounding and you were too stupid to remember that, seeing flames of purple beginning to form near you and signifying that he was home to see what the commotion was about. you can only hope that he won’t be too upset with you.

━━━ .°˖✧ vox akuma ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ how unlucky are you to be the object of the great voice demon’s affections! he rarely ever lets you out of his sight as being a demon in the modern era means that he too must stay hidden from the public eye. it’s suffocating being under his observant eye, something as much as blinking doesn’t go under his radar. since he isn’t human, his senses are heightened with him being to hear so much as a floorboard creaking or smell the blood of you getting a paper-cut from a different room, leading him to be able to just sense your presence no matter where you are since you’re never far from him anyways. you don’t quite understand it, but what you do understand is that it makes escape much more difficult.

╰₊✧ he’s just so overprotective of you and you get it, having heard the story of his clan and how he lost them when they were all so dear to him, but it’s no excuse for his extremely possessive behavior. you can’t even remember the last time you’ve been outside and touched grass that wasn’t in his garden. he’s always by your side and never leaves unless you need to use the restroom or something, like a guard dog that doesn’t understand boundaries, yet even dogs could be forgiven for not knowing any better. the only time you don’t feel watched is when he’s asleep, with an arm thrown around you, but unconscious nonetheless.

you were more aware of every shift of his body and every breath he took than you would be if he was really your lover, unable to get a second of rest when being coddled like this. you feared that if you squirmed at all, he would automatically tighten his grip around you, but was pleasantly surprised when you were able to wiggle free. hearing him grunt made your heart stop, but he stayed asleep until you tried to get off the bed and stepped on the ground. hearing him ask where you were going made you sweat bullets, but you just said you were off to get a glass of water.

unfortunately, he decided to get up himself to go get it for you, leaving you sitting on the Alaskan king-sized mattress thinking about your fate. you doubt that you’ll ever get away from him, he’ll just track you down and bring you back. the world is massive, but so is he and you won’t make it very far. you can’t hide from a demon, not for long enough to sigh in relief anyway. if walking on wood with bare feet was enough to wake him from his slumber, hearing you open a door or window would be enough to have him running.

━━━ .°˖✧ luca kaneshiro ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ your prison is a palace dusted with gold, you’re served the finest food on silver platters, you’re decorated with jewels that are worth millions, but the splendor isn’t enough to distract you from the fact that you’re a prisoner. normally, you could only dream of living in a place like this where you’re doted on by a lover and spoiled rotten with whatever you want, yet you would do anything to trade this life for the people he had his men wipe off the face of the earth to have you to himself. it can’t be a paradise when you know it’s stained with the blood drawn by a mafia family.

╰₊✧ escape is next to impossible, as expected of the kaneshiro family. hidden cameras watch your every step and guards are lined up in every hallway to make sure that no one aside from their masters gets in or out, armed with weapons that they wouldn’t hesitate to use if necessary. even if they have strict orders not to use them against you for any reason, they are still allowed to use physical force to bring you back and any injuries will be regarded as collateral damage.

your legs dragged across the polished marble floors of the hall since you refused to walk back to your room, carried by two burly men in suits who caught you trying to run away for the -nth time. just like all previous attempts, you were caught within five minutes, which is an improvement to last time yet still not even close to enough to reach the pearly gates of freedom. knowing that you’ll need more then double of that to get out is disheartening, but everyone knows that you’re going to try again. you’ve learned that it really doesn’t cost anything to make a run for it, they don’t even punish you for it since luca loves you too much for that so they just throw you back on the bed before leaving.

there are a few bruises from their rough handling, but nothing too serious. you’d be willing to walk out of there with a broken arm if needed, you just wanted to go home and see the remaining few who weren’t picked off by the mafia again. later that day, you’ll be gifted with new dresses and shoes that shimmer in the light of the grand chandelier of your room to try and convince you to stay, however, there isn’t any use for such items if others couldn’t see it as well. if you keep trying, you’ll make it a little further as you learn from your mistakes, maybe even one of his men will feel pity for you or get sick of your antics and just let you go. you’ll only know if you keep trying.

[bloodmoonmuses]

we're not really strangers | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, drabble (700 words), meditative prose, angst (?) inspired by the movie "all of us strangers" and mark's 'dirty smoothie' trailer for their upcoming album "dreamscape"

warnings: none!

summary: the love of your life, mark, appears out of thin air.

The edges of your vision are blurred with tears. You attempt to blink them back- to keep them at bay-  but they fall hastily as your pace quickens amidst the concrete jungle. You’re experiencing the type of vulnerability that can only exist before nine in the morning- when people ravage the polluted city, weaving in and out of the crowd as they hustle to work. You’ve missed your train, and now, in order to make it to the office on time, you’ll have to walk six blocks. The sky is abysmally gray, but it’s apt, you suppose. Your mind and body feels gray as well-  mushy, drab and bland in its quiet suffering. You curse your faulty alarm clock and rue the feeling of watching the train zip past right as you reach its closed doors. It’s enough to ruin your entire day. Probably your entire week. But nevertheless, the world moves onward. 

You jump into the mix, warm bodies making the sidewalk blush as they cross its mind. As a law-abiding citizen, you mind the traffic lights. When it says walk, you walk. When it says stop, you stop. There’s something comforting about being told what to do. Muscle memory pilots your pliant form. You come to a stop again, because the light tells you so. On the opposite side of the street, in the middle of about twenty or so people waiting to cross as well, you see a man with wired headphones nodding along to his music. In his hand is an iPod Touch. The light turns and suddenly, you’re passing one another. The man skips joyfully, taking big strides with his elegantly long legs. You make contact briefly, his shoulder brushing yours, before he disappears into the morning mist. 

When you return your attention ahead of you, there he is again, leaning against the crosswalk light. You look around in confusion. Had he not just crossed the street? Didn’t he just vanish into the chaos of his morning commute?

“What?” the man asks as you come to stand in front of him. “You’re staring.”

“I thought I just saw you-” your head whips around with such force, you’re afraid you’ve injured your neck. When you look behind you, the entire street is empty- everyone having evaporated without a single trace. 

The man is  wearing a corporate lanyard. His badge says Mark Lee. You’ve known him for a lifetime, suddenly.

“Hey. I said you’re staring.”

“What are you doing here, Mark?”

“Playing hooky with you, of course.” Mark grasps your freezing hand, encasing it in two of his own, and warms it with his breath. “Let’s get out of here. You’ll catch a cold.”

He walks you back to your apartment. You’re not sure how he knows how to get there. Or where he got a key from. He moves around your home with tenured expertise, blending into the domesticity as if he’d been a permanent fixture in it for many years. Years that have escaped you. Years, that when you look up one day, you realize have flown past you in a flash. He takes your favorite mug out of the cupboard, the one with glazed ladybugs painted on it.

“Mark,” you start.

“Shh. Don’t ruin it,” he says. 

“Ruin what?”

He makes you a cup of tea. Chamomile. Also your favorite. He places it wordlessly on your tiny dining room table, sitting across from you.

“This is the best idea I’ve had in a while,” Mark says. “I should skip work more often.” He leans over to kiss you, chastely, on the lips. He misses slightly, only capturing the corner of your mouth. He chuckles. 

“You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost,” whispers Mark, still only inches away from your face. You kiss his nose, and the feeling is so familiar that it almost calms you completely. Then you remember: there’s a stranger in your house.

“Do I know you?” you inquire, scared of ‘ruining it’. All you do is ruin things. For once, you’d like to get out of your own way. 

Mark simply nods. “Of course you do.”

He kisses you once more, then stands to retrieve his iPod. When he returns, he sits next to you this time, placing an earbud into your left ear and the other in his right. Mark presses play, and a song you don’t recognize fills your ears like water. Mark rests his head on your shoulder, draping you in his sodden affection. Your heart feels impossibly heavy. You hope he’s real. 

“I love you,” Mark says.

“I love you too.” 

a/n: thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated!

[l1vchuu]

resentment. part four

!! warnings: mentions of sh and suicide, strong language, may contain triggering themes and blood, angst, and slow burn, P.S. This chapter might have a lot of time skips, so be wary.

A few days went as you were gone, and you weren't the only one who felt the changes.

It was a Monday afternoon as you sat at your kitchen table, reading a book you randomly had picked off your old shelf- "Norwegian Wood" by Haruki Murakami. You bought this book after watching the film that just got released in the theaters, hoping that you would read it someday and feel the same emotions you did when you sat in front of the big screen. After some unfortunate events that occurred in your life at that time- you never really got to read it.

The soft yellow tint of the light from the cheap lightbulbs filled your small kitchen, going through your hair, and making a slight shadow on your face. The tea you had made for yourself earlier was getting colder as the minutes passed by, and you couldn't feel more peaceful.

So far, you tried taking things slow- since you had a whole month to figure things out. You've put out the thought of seeing a therapist later, your mind was still blurry. Currently, you were trying to calm your mind by reading and watching movies.

A few hours later, you put down the book and decided to take a shower. As you entered the cabin and turned on the shower, the sudden warmth of the water took all your thoughts with it.

You recently bought some new showering essentials- new shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, and a few other things. Maybe if you tried to take better care of your hygiene you could feel prettier, or at least have some type of order in your life that you follow.

The sweet honey scent filled the atmosphere as you washed your hair, slight steam flowing in the air, getting captured in your lungs with every breath you took. Your mind was roaming through your memories, mostly the good ones. You remembered the first time you discovered Wes Anderson.

A few years ago...

You sighed as you scrolled through your Letterboxd watchlist, the titles moving faster than the thoughts in your head.

"'Detachment', 'Lost in Translation', 'Vertigo'..."

You mumbled to yourself as you kept scrolling, looking for something to watch. Then your eyes stopped at a yellowish poster, excluding itself from the others.

"Fantastic Mr. Fox"

You had heard of that movie before, all positive things. You stared at the trailer for a while

"Who even watches trailers for movies that have been out for years?"

You thought to yourself as you kept looking, but you were mesmerized. You hadn't seen anything else like this. It was so quirky and sweet and bitter that you wanted to watch it badly. You found the movie, and just as you were about to put it on, Simon opened the door.

He entered the room, looking at you with his brown, empty eyes.

"How was the shift?"

You tried to spark up a conversation, but it ended nowhere.

"Fine."

He sat on his bed, still with his mask on. You know he took it off when he slept, but you had never seen his face. It's like he knew the moment you woke up and fall asleep just so he can put his mask back on and act like nothing had happened.

"You gonna' sleep?"

You asked him, your eyes looking up from the monitor of your laptop.

"Not now, why you ask?"

"I was going to watch a movie, that's why."

You could somehow see his eyebrows rise underneath his mask. It was the first time he heard those words from a Sergeant. People usually never had time to do anything really, being tired from long work shifts and all.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It just... It's the first time I've heard that sentence here."

"What? You don't watch movies?"

"No- It's not that. People don't find the time for things like these."

"Well, I do. Does it bother you?"

"As long as it's not too loud, no."

"Good."

You sat back on the couch as you hit space and the movie began.

Half an hour later, you were so invested in the movie that you didn't notice the presence of your roommate next to you... until he coughed, causing you to flinch, and because of your reflexes, your hand went into a defensive position. He looked at you, his eyes slightly wider.

"Oh, sorry."

"I think... I think I saw Jesus."

He chuckled, showing the slightest bit of emotion he ever has.

"It's just me."

"You really live up to your name, huh? Sneaking in like that."

"I didn't do anything, it's the movie's fault for having you so fuckin invested."

"Yeah, sure."

-

It might not seem like the brightest memory ever, but that was the first time you had such a close interaction with Ghost ever since you got moved into a room with him. That moment felt like a slight push into a whole other universe. A universe where you felt less scared to talk to him, a universe where he got to be the closest person to you.

The whole story began when you joined the British Army at 17 years old after a really bad banter between your dad and your brother, resulting in your brother's suicide. At his funeral, you could barely hold yourself up and alive- it had shattered you completely. You couldn't help yourself to eat, your mother had to force-feed you just like she did when you were a baby. Your body was aching with every step you took, every time your jeans brushed against your thighs, making your fresh scars bleed again from the friction. A month later, you were at your lowest point in life- you didn't go to school, and your mother ignored every call from the principal because she didn't know what to say. Everyone at your house was so lost, your father refused to go out of his room, leaving the house in the process, your mother barely slept at night, and you had ruined yourself. At this point, everything was a lost cause.

One morning, as you barely walked towards the front door, placing the rubbish bag in its' place, you saw the leaflets from the military scouts that live in your area. Usually, you would throw them in the rubbish bin and continue on with the day, but this time something was off. Your brother wanted to enlist in the military so much, he even started going to the shooting ranges outside the city to train his aim. You could feel your cheeks getting wet as you stared at the papers in your hands- he would've served his country and fulfilled his dreams in a year.

With slow and steady steps you went to his door, opening it slowly. His room was always cluttered, as he never got the time to clean it- always so busy with his voluntary work and training. There was a big flag hung on his wall, frames with pictures of him in his boy scouts uniform, pictures with him and his friends at a red cross event, and posters of his favorite movies and superheroes, he was such a bright and generous kid. There were stacks of military scouting leaflets piled on his desk, catching more and more dust as the days go by.

You sat on his bed, holding a picture of him with a German Shepherd 'Scouty' - a military dog that was pretty famous in your city and had saved multiple lives. You remembered taking that picture, him getting so excited when they allowed him to pet the dog, his eyes lighting up when they said that we could take a picture with him, his big smile, showing his braces as the dog stood still. Everything seemed so wonderful, life was so full and bright.

The tears began rolling down your cheek as your fingers traced his face, the room still smelled like him, somehow. You felt a pair of fragile hands holding your body close to them. You looked up with your red and teary eyes at the figure- it was your mother. You two sat in silence, crying quietly as you held each other. She noticed the leaflet in your hand.

"When does the recruiting start?"

Your mother asked you, her voice quiet and shaky as she looked at the paper.

You wiped your cheeks as you checked the dates on the leaflet- it was slightly damp and crumpled.

"The applications can be sent in a month from now."

You said, your voice cracking as your hands shook slightly.

"Mhm."

Your mum responded as she gently pat your head, her fingers brushing through your hair.

You stared at the paper in your hands.

"Will you leave Dad?"

You asked.

"I can't, you are still here."

She replies.

"What if I leave for university? Will you leave him?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

But you still had two years left, and with your absence, you were sure no university or college will accept you. You thought about it- if you were to return to school, people would ask you questions back and forth, and you couldn't deal with that. You knew your mother was suffering more than you, I mean, losing a child can be amusingly painful for a mother. And the last thing you wanted to do is to make your mother suffer even more, but continuing to live with your father after all that had happened was doing that same exact thing.

You thought about this the whole day. Holding that same leaflet, making all the research, asking people about it- and then you made your decision. You were going to join the Army.

Sure, you may have absolutely no experience, unlike your brother, but that's what he would've wanted. You were doing this for him and your mother.

You walked back and forth in your room, wandering in your documents and checking in your strengths. You knew a little about artillery from your brother's trainer and all of his lessons. You had a month in order to prepare for it. You went to consult your mother on the decision.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"I'm sure, I just need to train a bit, but I need to know that if I go, you leave him."

She thought for a minute.

"I'll stay at your aunt's place until I save up enough money for rent and divorce."

You looked at her, your eyes full of uncertainty.

"Do you promise- No- Will you promise me to do that?"

You took a breath before continuing.

"When I leave, you leave him. You go as far away as you can. I'll lend you money if I can- Go to another country and live there if you need- Just promise me you'll leave that man, please..."

She put her arms on your shoulders, making you look at her.

"I promise you, but how do you know if you are going to get recruited?"

"I will get recruited, don't worry."

She looked at you, not being sure if you were just talking nonsense or actually meaning your words. By the look in your eyes and the sound of your tone, she knew you weren't joking.

After your mother made that promise- you got to work. You went out and trained every single day, but before that, you visited the shooting range. You knew that the trainer was a British Air Service veteran, so you asked for his help.

'You want to enlist? As in, you want to apply?"

He looked at you, a worried look on his face. It was the first time he saw you since your brother's funeral, and he saw the change in your appearance.

"Yes, and I need your help."

You said, looking up at him. You had explained everything to him, in detail, too.

"For a month..."

He silently thought to himself as he looked at you, his eyes narrowing.

"I can manage a training schedule, but I'm not sure if you could-"

"I'll do it.'

You interrupted him.

"- handle it."

He stared at you, his eyes slowly wider than before. He sighs.

"It won't be easy. Not at all. Your brother had months and years of practice, but now you have to make it up to him in a month."

You nodded your head, your eyes burning with ambition once again.\

"I'll do it. I won't give up."

"We'll change up your diet too,"

He paused, taking in the situation with your family. Your mother could barely stand up from her bed, and your father was nowhere to be found.

"I'll bring you food, you'll eat here."

You tilted your head to the side.

"Will that be okay with you?"

You asked him, a worried look on your face.

"It'll be absolutely no problem. I'll pack in food for your mother as well."

You nodded, feeling grateful for his offer.

"Thank you."

He nodded, holding his hand out for a handshake. You took his hand, giving a firm squeeze.

"I'll come pick you up tomorrow at 5:30 AM."

He searched your face for any reaction.

"As I told you, it'll be hard."

He gave you a slight smile.

"But now I believe you'll make it."

During that month, he took care of you and your mother- you trained with him all day, and he checked in with your mother in the meantime. He was a single father taking after his father's business. His son enlisted two years ago, leaving him alone in his house all year round. You became attached to him quickly, he was almost like a father to you. He helped you become the person your brother wished to be. For a month, you became a weapon, which got you in the Army, which got you in the Special Forces (SAS). That's the place where you first met Simon.

It was three years after you joined the Army- you were now 20 years old. You finally had the opportunity to apply to the SAS- which you did. After a long process of training and selection- you finally made it into the force.

When you got in, they introduced you to a couple of people, Captain Price and some other Lieutenants. As you entered the base where you would be working and living, they introduced you to one final person- your roommate- Simon Riley, or his callsign 'Ghost'.

As you finally got to call your mother, announcing the news to her, you were surprised more than usual when your trainer picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

The male voice echoed through the phone. You furrowed your eyebrows, barely recognizing it.

"Hello?"

You replied.

"It's you! How's it going, kid?"

And that's when you recognized him. You two had a long conversation- apparently, your mother had moved in with him, which got you flabbergasted. Your mother was at work when you two were talking. You announced the news to him.

"Really? You got in?!"

He said, his voice full of pride and joy.

"I knew you would make it. I'm so proud of you!"

I'm so proud of you.

I'm so proud of you

That sentence kept you up at night. It replayed in your mind non-stop, echoing through your veins with each word.

Someone was proud of you.

-

Simon looked at Soap as he ate his lunch, holding his bowl in one hand as always. It's been a week since you were gone, and by that time everyone was aware of your absence. Soap looked back at Ghost, unsure about how to approach a conversation with him after all that had happened. Your seat at the table was empty, and nobody dared to sit on it, leaving a gap between Gaz and Ghost. It was rather quiet, everyone was lost in their own mind. Some of them were surprised that you never said anything, that you didn't notify anyone. Johnny was probably the first person who decided to write to you.

"Come on, I can't do this by myself. We have to let her know that we are with her and that we miss her, right?"

Johnny states, looking at the empty piece of paper in front of him.

"So, what do we write?"

Kyle grabs the pen and begins the letter, slowly filling it up with words until the page is full. Signing at the bottom were Johnny, Kyle, and Alex. After a few hours, the letter was sent to you, arriving in your mailbox.

The morning after, your neighbor notified you that you got mail. You looked in the box, a confused look on your face as two letters appeared in your hands. One of the letters had three signatures, while the other had only one- a skull face.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.☆.｡.:

Heyy!! I'm back as promised with the fourth part. This part had a lot of time skips for which I apologize if you were confused with! Sending lots of love and see you with part five <3

[becasworldsstuff]

Can i please request a romantic Simon Basset x OC/reader fic? Simon being completely in love with her since they were young, but since his father told him to go away, they separated. They met again.

-> Pairings: Simon basset x reader

-> warnings: none

Simon basset and miss l/n had always been friends, thing caused by her bubbly nature that could outshine the sun even in an August day. She was the only one with whom he could talk without stuttering, he felt at ease and nothing could really make him sad if she was near him. Her presence as a reminder that not all in life was sad and angry at him, that not everyone was disappointed in him, on the contrary she never made him feel bad about himself.

When the old duke of Hastings sent his son away due to the problems he was causing to his own mental health, the two were separated, nothing in means of letters or visits between the two for years if not the memories captured together and the burning sensations in the part of their body that the other touched, or the single pink flower dried out inside Skmon's favorite book that she gifted him as a reminder of the beauty hidden behind fragilness. Both the young hearts were left shattered thinking they would never see each other ever again.

But in his drawer were piled up letters written in his best calligraphy and on the best paper money could buy, for his best friend and little piece of heaven, who had been his own safe place in the mess his childhood had been.

It was her who motivated him enough to return to his old house when the man died, and he found her on the steps of his big place, with glimmering eyes and the brightest smile that ever existed. He stopped in front of her with his mouth that had gone dry, she had grown into the most exquisite young lady he had ever seen or imagined to lay eyes on, his eyes widened and his hands were begging for something to grasp onto to not loose balance while she watched him, she took one step forward and his heart skipped a beat. Even if he only realized now he could pinpoint her as the only woman in his life to which he could ever truly love, but he stayed silent, catching up with her like old times, not stuttering like when they were just little kids playing in the garden not caring about duties.

The days passed and the season started, now miss l/n obviously came from a very wealthy family and her kindness and beauty were known upon the society, but this was her first season, and her older brother and father refused to give away such a perfect girl to anyone so, when they catched up with the Duke longing stares they decided to talk to him, a man of honor, well bred, wealthy. Simon never in his life thought that he deserved for his dreams to become reality but he knew he was a duke and her best solution to this world of strange couples, so he was the one to go talk to her father, asking him her hand in marriage and bowing down on one knee with watering eyes as he proclaimed his love to her:

" never had I ever experienced such strong emotions nor strange feelings, my stomach flutters and my troath goes dry as if I was denying myself with water for you, you make my heart stop and the dream of seeing you walk down the aisle to me has been my favorite image for my life. So please accept my undying love for you because I cannot breathe if I'm not near you, neither I can eat or drink or sleep away from you, you are my sun and my moon and every single star in the sky, my whole body was created to match yours and my core only exists to love you and adore you, you make me burn like I was in a fire that cannot die. So please do me the honor and let me make you the duchess of Hastings "

Her response was awaited from the ball room that had just seen him pacing in front of the doors before barging in and stopping the dance that was occurring at the time, she held her breath and nodded slowly while forcing herself to blink as I'd to make herself realize that that moment was true.

[renranram]

anything friends to lovers with schlatt makes me weak in the knees and I just know u could do that justice 💘

Titibo-Tibo

sfw

basically tomboy user falls in love with schlatt and started to act feminine ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

a/n: special points if ur filo lolsies

Ever since elementary grade, they're already noticing, My gestures that are unlady-like 'coz Instead of dolls, my toys were trading cards and marbles Then I always jam with gangster-like boys in our place

you never really grew up being feminine, raised by your single father you genuinely liked acting boyish, preferring to play with boys instead of girls, buying toys that are mostly considered as ‘masculine’

growing up in a small town in texas, your town liked being close with eachother, having karaoke sessions every weekends and you'd always be there, jamming along with people, mostly older men who treated you like they're your buddy

it was very obvious, just by your actions, the ladies in your town were a bit concerned on how you'll grow up, due to them being conservative, but to you, it didn't matter, after all, you still are a kid

When I entered high school I was friends with bi's--curious girls Who also like girls Instead of makeup kit, I bring my guitar Then I always wore long-sleeved T-shirt and faded pants

years pass by, you finally enter highschool, you got along with bisexual people, you were very curious with your sexuality, having to go along with them, you chase beautiful girls, your guitar in hand, serenading them

you preferred dressing up in a masculine manner, attracting similar girls who's curious with their sexuality too

you strum your guitar as you lean back on the bench as suddenly, claire, the girl who had one big obvious crush on you, approaches you, face flustered, eyes avoiding you

“ hey sweetie, “ you greet her, “ you alright? “ you ask as claire, in an embarrassed manner, hands you a love letter, running off before you can even read it as your friends ‘ oooh’ed ‘ just to tease you

in a way, you were a chicks girl, managing to snag girls around your school campus,

But when I met you My taste changed I learned to have my hair rebonded Shape my eyebrows at least once a month I don't know what it is that you have that Had me soften suddenly Who would have thought it will be a man Who'll capture a wild lil old me

9th grade, that's when you first met schlatt, just having to move to texas with his family, the guy was a hot shot, he was funny yet blunt, nice to everyone and well, surprisingly, a gentleman

he didn't treat you like what your other male classmates did, he didn't treat you like you were one of the boys, he treated you like a gentleman, it felt new, “ you tired? “ schlatt asks, panting as he chuckle

“ a little, yeah “ you respond, carrying the basketball in your arm, “ let's rest then “ he smiles at you, fuck, you swore you heard your heart skipped a beat

schlatt made you feel different, made you feel new, he made you feel feminine, “... so.. uhm.. what's your type in girls? “ you ask, as he offers you a bottle of water, giving a small nod as a form of gratitude

“ my type?, i dont really have a type, i mean, if she's the right one for you, then she is “ he shrugs, drinking the cold water as you two sat side by side on the bench

“ … yo.. uh.. can i ask for some advice? “ you mumble, putting your hair up, “ sure, shoot your shot “ schlatt replies, “ so there's this uhm…girl.. and she's a friend of mine.. and uh.. she met this guy.. and she's like super masculine but ever since.. you know, she met this guy she wanted to.. uhm act.. feminine and vulnerable and shit “ you mutter, describing your self as schlatt chuckles

“ that's fucking cute, “ schlatt chuckles, as a faint blush appears on your cheek, “ well, it depends ion her really, but if she feels very comfortable around him, maybe they should try stuffs out “ he added

before glancing at you, “ does the guy know how she feels? “ he asks, “ n..n-no “ he chuckle, his hand fixing your messy hair, “ he must be blind then “

you wanted to scream at that moment, ever since that time, you didn't even notice it yourself but you started acting.. calm and surprisingly lady-like, the same exact opposite on what you were as a kid, it felt weird yet.. relieving at the same time

you started being aware on your appearance, you've gotten a rebond, you try wearing makeup for the first time, shaping your eyebrows, wearing something else than pants, it felt great hearing him compliment you, it feels like you wanted to change for him

Even if I am boyish My heart still beats for you Just one kiss from you, and you've got me hooked And the woman in me is awakened Just like a blooming flower Because you care for it with water and sufficient Light of your everyday love That makes my life sweet

the day of schlatt’s basketball tournament, he played in a team for your school, you fixed your hair as you look up at him, smiling, pumped, “ are you nervous? “ you ask as schlatt chuckles

“ being nervous are for pussies, im a sigma male “ he jokes as you roll your eyes, chuckling

“ goodluck jay, “ you mutter, patting his back as he faces you, “ im gonna win this for you “ he states, his eyes glaring at you with admiration, your face flushed pink

“ can i ask you for a favor? “ schlatt smiles, holding on the ball, as you nod, looking up, “ if i win, can i kiss you and start courting you? “

you could die in this moment as you blink in surprise, “ h-huh? what? “ you stutter as schlatt chuckles, cupping your face, “ can i kiss you and start courting you if i win this game? “

you slowly nod, biting your lip as you look away, flustered whilst schlatt jumps in victory, “ i gotta win this game then “ he pats your hair as the bell rings, indicating the game's about to start

and oh man, did he keep his word, their team overcome the other team up in a storm, you cheered loudly for him, clapping and screaming whenever he scores

the guy got mvp for fucks sake, “ i kept my promise, i won, can i kiss you now? “ he approaches you with that stupid charming smile of his, holding the trophy as your friends and some kids at your campus looks at you two

you pause before nodding as schlatt didn't hesitate as he pulls you in his arms, kissing you, gently lifting you up in the ground as you squeal, “ fuck, it feels like i won you instead “ schlatt smiles

When we went to college Was just when I gave you my sweet "yes" That you've worked for 10 months Instead of chocolates and typical moves You captured me with your poems and your corny songs

it was now your last year of being an art student, you couldn't believe that the guy you met in 9th grade and your relationship with him would last this far but it did

schlatt dropped off college due to youtube, preferring to earn his money there instead and he was doing absolutely great, you were his biggest supporter of course

you enter your shared apartment as you yawn, tired, “ jayy? “ you call out his name as he replies, “ im in the bedroom toots “

you smile warmly as you open your bedroom's door, tackling him with a hug as he groans out chuckling, patting your back, “ tired? “ he asks as you nod, “ very “ you glance at his computer, “ you're editing for a video? “ he nods

“ yep, “ he replies, “ but.. im also streaming “ he states as you gasp, “ oh shit im sorry for interrupting “ you get off him as he chuckles, “ toots, it's fine don't worry “ he reassures you before switching tabs seeing chat greeting you

“ i actually wanted you to come here “ he mutters, glancing at the camera for a ‘ wish me good luck ‘ look as he gets off his gaming chair, kneeling, as he pulls out a small box, “ y/n, i love you so much, it's fucking fascinating how far we lasted, but i just… i just wish we can be something more than just girlfriend and boyfriend, so uhm, “ he clears his throat, opening the small box revealing a diamond ring

“ will you- “ he didn't even get to finish his sentence as you sobs onto his arms, nodding profusely, his chat speeds up, spamming him with congratulations, ggs, and o7

“ i love you so much oh my god “ you sob, not caring how miserable you look as schlatt started to rain kisses all over your face, “ no toots, fuck i love you so fucking much, thank- thank you so fucking much “ he chuckle hugging you tightly as he gently helps you wear the ring that perfectly fit your finger

“ i dont wanna ruin the mood but did you got my finger measured? “ you mumble, sobbing in between as schlatt bursts out laughing

That's why when I met you I already knew that miracles are true I learned to wear heels and frequented Wearing red dress But you didn't wish me to Change completely just to prove That there is no hard bread to a hot coffee Of your love

ever since you became fiancés, you can't help but remember your highschool and elementary days, you loved schlatt, the man treated you like a fucking princess, the vast difference on how you acted cringed you sometimes but you treasure those moments

if it weren't for those it wouldn't lead up to this

[nonexistent-introvert]

Sparks

Pairing: Nanami Kento x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Content: Hurt/comfort, takes place when nanami was still a salaryman

A/N: I am in mourning, this was supposed to be a full angst fic but I couldn't bring myself to continue the pain

   Kento rubbed his eyes. The figure “22.34” on the clock in the office was practically the only other light source other than the glare of his computer screen. He closed the tabs on his screen, stretching in his seat. Another overtime, another missed dinner with you. His eyes glared at his desktop’s wallpaper, it was meant as a form of motivation but now it seemed to taunt him. It was a picture of Teluk Cempedak, a beach in Kuantan that he really wanted to visit. 

   Kento unlocked his phone while standing in the elevator. His heart sank when he was greeted with many missed calls and messages from you. His grip on his phone tightened slightly, meetings after meetings and then the never-ending work, it had slipped his mind to inform you that he was going to work late again. The messages got less frequent and he could almost feel your disappointment when he read your last text. 

     “You’re working late again, aren’t you? Please take care of yourself, don’t skip dinner. Come home soon.” 

    His finger immediately pressed on the call button, he let out a sigh when he was led to voicemail. You must have fallen asleep already. Kento leaned against the wall of the elevator, a small smile tugged on his lips at his own wallpaper. It was his favourite picture of you, from when the both of you took a short trip to Hokkaido from Tokyo.

=========

   “Have you not been on a flight before?” Kento questioned, you have been bouncing on your feet with a wide grin on your face the whole time the both of you were at the airport. Your eyes darted in all kinds of directions, desperately trying to take everything in. You were like an excited child and he found it rather adorable of you. “Hmm?” You answered him while taking a picture from the window of the airplane seat. “You just seem very excited.” He said, a soft smile on his face as he admired you. “Do I?” You let out a laugh, “it’s just been a very long time since I traveled.” You explained. 

   Kento felt his heart skip when you looked at him. He couldn’t help but stare at your eyes which were practically sparkling at him. He loved your eyes, he loved hearing you talking about something you’re passionate about simply because of how your eyes would light up. However, the eyes that stared at him now, as cheesy as it sounded, were practically stars in the night sky. His smile got wider as he bent down to look through the small window. “If traveling brings you so much joy, why don’t you travel often then?” He asked simply out of curiousity. You shrugged, your smile fading a little. “Time. Time is always the issue isn’t it?” You let out a humorless laugh. Kento hums in agreement. 

   His eyes studied yours, a soft smile tugging on his features. “We should travel more often.” He says. He would do anything to watch your eyes sparkle with intrigue as you take in your new surroundings. Your face buried behind a camera as you tried to capture each and every moment. 

   You looked back at him, your eyes turning into crescents as you nodded excitedly. “Let’s travel the world Kento.” You laughed. He hums. 

   “Let’s.”

==========

   Kento promised, at least he promised to himself that he would bring you around the world. He would do anything to see that sparkle in your eye. 

   It has been years since that trip, each year he only got busier. Engagements, business trips, and the promise of a promotion filled his schedule. He was climbing up the socio-economic ranks swiftly.

  He should have known that there was no such thing as a free “lunch” in this world. He should have known the price was too much for him to bear.

   The home he came home to was dark and cold. A slight breeze greeted him as he passed by the windows and into your shared bedroom. Kento’s steps were heavy with exhaustion but as he approached the door, he stilled. His fingers tingled with a familiar energy, a part of him that he tried so hard to suppress for the past few years came rushing back. Kento swallowed, cautiously swinging the door open. His trained eyes immediately spotted the inky black curse darting around in the shadows. The curse didn’t scare him, he knew that he was trained to deal with worse, trained till the point where sorcery was basically instilled as an instinct to him. What scared him was the frequency of curses surrounding you, like it was bred off your negative emotions. 

   With one swift action of his hand, the curse was exorcised. Kento let out a sigh of relief, his eyes falling to your sleeping figure on the bed. His heart sunk, watching as your shaking figure slowly relax, your grip on the sheets of the bed lightening. You didn’t notice him when you sat up, letting out a shaky breath. Adrenaline still pumping through your veins from the nightmare you had. Kento decided to make his presence known, his heavy steps alerting you of his presence. You rubbed your face and wiped the tears that were blurring your vision, turning around with a smile to say hi to him. Kento remained silent, leaning over you to turn on the lamp on your bedside table. In the warm light of the lamp, he got to see your face clearly. The red swollen eyes, the tear streaks that illuminated under the warm light and lastly, how the shine in your eyes was nowhere to be found despite the smile that was on your face. He clenched his jaw, how did it take him so long to notice? How many times did he just accepted your facade as it was? 

   You noticed how Kento’s gaze hardened, how his eyes scanned every feature of yours. You bit softly on your bottom lip, too embarrassed to face him. Too embarrassed to admit that you were crumbling without his company, that you were selfish and wished that he spent more time with you instead of being a slave to his corporate company, 

   You missed him, you missed how things were when he wasn’t obsessed with working. When he squeezed in small dates in between his little pockets of free time. Those were the words you didn’t tell him because you knew the reason why he was so motivated, so driven to work. It was all for the both of you. 

   But it didn’t feel that way. At all. The man who sat in front of you, with his sunken cheeks and eyebags and the lack of a twinkle in his eye was a mere shell of the man you had fallen in love with. 

  When did the youthful and carefree shine in both your eyes vanish?

   “What’s wrong?” His hand reached out to tuck the loose strand behind your ear, his palm resting softly on your cheek. You tensed, wincing slightly. His touch was like the initial burn of warm water before you slowly relaxed into his touch. Kento felt the guilt eat up at him, how long has it been for his touch to seem unfamiliar? 

  “Kento…” your voice was hoarse and it only broke his heart further. You remained quiet after, not quite finding the right words to tell him. Then the tears fell again. His thumb proactively swiped it away, he swallowed hard. It hurts him to see you like this. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pull him closer, he’s quick to reciprocate, one hand going to the back of your head and the other to your waist. You buried your face in the crook of his neck.

   “I missed you.” you muttered, your tears wetting his shirt. “I miss you.” you muttered again and again against his skin, like a prayer, for him to come back to you. Kento’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a few beats. “I miss you too.” He replied softly, leaning his chin against the top of your head. 

   How long has it been since he had you in his embrace like this? How long has it been since he unconsciously worked himself to the bone for both of your happiness when it was having the opposite effect on both of you? How long has he neglected you till the point where your negative emotions gave birth to the curses that kept you company without you knowing? How long have you been putting on a strong facade in front of him? The never-ending questions haunted him and cracked his heart. He was single-handedly ruining his relationship with you in the belief that he was doing better for you. 

    Kento held you tighter, the consequences of his actions catching up with him all at once. The tears that fell because of him and the relationship turning sour. He could only hope that he had the ability to fix it all. He could only pray that it wasn’t too late yet, that you would forgive him. “I’m sorry.” He says, cradling your face, his eyes baring into yours. Your vulnerable eyes turned into a look of understanding. You knew what he was apologising for, all the times he had neglected you, he’s sorry that you had to go through it all yourself, he wants to be there for you. 

“I never blamed you.” You muttered softly into his chest, a huge burden lifted off his chest at your words. “You never did, but I shouldn’t have put you through that pain.” He says, his thumb drawing circles on your back. “You were supposed to be happy with me.” He added on, a slight edge to his voice like he was disappointed with himself. “I am happy.” You told him. Kento shakes his head, “I made you cry, I made you face the world alone. I should be there for you, you shouldn’t be suffering by yourself.” He says, his thumb wiping away the stray tears. “No matter how small or big the problem is, tell me. I want to bear it all with you.” Kento tells you. You held onto him tighter, he’s asking you to not put up a front for him. “You have enough on your plate.” You reply. Kento sighs, “There’s no such thing as enough when it comes to you. I want all of you, and that includes your problems and emotions. Don’t hide it from me.” 

   You made yourself meet his eyes, those brown eyes that you loved. “Then let me share your burdens. Let us work together, to travel the world.” You promised with a genuine smile on your face. Kento looked taken aback for a moment, then a soft grin tugged on his lips, his eyes crinkled ever so slightly. 

   It was like a flower bloomed in his eyes, the light in his eyes returned and his eyes turned into crescents as he grinned. 

   “Let’s.” He replied. 

   You brought it back, the same light from back then. You lit his world up again. 

  “I love you.” Kento confesses. You stare at him, a grin on your face as you press a chaste kiss to his lips. One that he thought was too fleeting for his liking. “I love you too, with all of my heart.” You told him. His heart lifted at your words and the shine in your eyes returned. 

======

   Nanami Kento  had always been an overachiever. He wasn’t satisfied with just the shine of your eyes returning. He wanted to see the same excited look on your face as when the both of you traveled. He made it to work early that day and handed in his resignation letter. 

   When you woke up, you were surprised to see him still at home. Before you could question him, he said “Let’s go on a short trip. To Malaysia.” His heart soared when he saw the same childlike sparkle in your eye and the big grin that erupted from your features. The very same he had captured in the picture which he used as his wallpaper. 

   He didn’t have enough for a world tour yet, but he knows now that he has enough to make you happy and that was enough. 

[yxngbxkkie]

rivals (l.k)

hey! i'm back with the skz street racing! i do apologize at how long it's been. the only thing is that i had to completely start over his fic, so the idea might be a smidge different than what was explained. it's 90% the same, but yeah 😅 i hope you guys like it! 💓

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

"Who's that?" You ask your boyfriend, Dal, while tapping his forearm. Your gaze focuses on the brunette across the street.

The frown on his lips is noticeable from where you're standing, his arms crossed over his chest. Dal releases a quiet grunt, and he rolls his eyes at the sight of him. "That's Lee Minho. He thinks he's hot shit just because he's quiet," he mentions, grabbing a hold of your chin.

Dal forces you to look away, meeting his eyes instead. "Maybe he's just quiet," you try to defend him.

"Baby girl, trust me," Dal mutters, releasing his grip on you. "He's an asshole. Stay away from him, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," you agree with a nod, grabbing a hold of his hand. "I trust you."

He smiles at you before roughly pressing his lips to yours. Heat crawls along your skin, doing your best to pull away from him. PDA isn't your favorite. Knowing other people are watching makes you feel embarrassed.

Dal proudly pulls back from you, giving your hips a little squeeze. "Come on, let's go meet the others," he offers, tugging you along with him.

You snap out of your thoughts when a hand snakes around your waist. Dal nuzzles his face in your neck as he stands between your legs. "Do we have to do this here?" You ask him.

"I just want to love you," he sighs.

A scoff leaves your lips as you look away from him, seeing Minho across the street. Today marks one year since Dal's warned you about him. You've yet to speak with the man as your boyfriend refuses you to go near him.

You recall the stories Dal has told you about him. How he'll play dirty just so he can win the race. How he's a womanizer, collecting women like trophies.

But looking at him now, watching him talk to the person beside him makes you think otherwise.

"Baby girl," Dal tsks, capturing your attention, "I need you to stop looking at him."

You furrow your brows, wondering why he cares so much. "Looking at who?" You play off, hoping to skip past the possessiveness. "There are multiple people here, handsome."

Dal rolls his eyes before glancing in Minho's direction. "There's no one else really over there, baby. No one goes around him except for Kim. I don't know why he'd want to be around him but whatever," he rambles off as he grabs your wrist, tugging you off the back of his car.

"That's his name? Kim?" You ask, not daring to look back, knowing it'll make him more upset. "Only reason I was looking is because I've never seen him before. Is he new?"

"Kim Seungmin is his name. He's not new," your boyfriend bluntly explains. "No one knows the reason why he disappeared for a while."

You hum in response, watching Dal as he walks towards the driver's side door. He grabs his wallet from inside, slamming the door shut afterward. "What are you doing?" You ask him, knowing the next race starts in ten minutes.

"I'm going to get something real quick," he mutters, quickly glancing at you. "I'll be back. Don't move."

He walks away from you before you can say anything else. A small sigh comes from your lips as you look around once again. Some people are finishing up the last touches to their vehicles while others converse, waiting for the race to start.

You find yourself looking in Minho's direction again, only to find his eyes already on you. Your heart jumps in your chest, not expecting him to stare so… sharply. Your gaze turns into a glare, the comments Dal has made about him coming to the front of your mind again.

Panic shoots through you as Minho pushes himself from the vehicle, making his way towards you. Shit, what do I do?! You silently question yourself.

"Y/N, right?" He asks as soon as he stands in front of you.

"How do you know my name?" You counter him with narrowed eyes.

Minho motions his head towards the direction your boyfriend walked. "Dal talks about you to everyone here. I figured you knew," he mentions.

"No, I didn't know," you mumble, feeling a bit embarrassed. Just how much does he say?

"He makes it seem like you know. But, I'm not surprised that he's full of shit," Minho rolls his eyes.

You shake your head, refusing to let him talk about Dal like this. "And you're any better?" You ask him, anger laced in your voice. "He's told me the stories about you, Lee Minho."

The brunette lets out a chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, what? What stories?" He tilts his head, and his arrogance starts to annoy you.

"Your collection of women that you sleep with?" You recollect, raising an eyebrow. "Your behavior is disgusting."

Minho's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not knowing what you're talking about. "I don't collect women. You can't be that dumb, right?" The insult slips past his lips.

"Fuck you," you scoff, walking away from him.

Dal rounds the corner, almost running into you. Both hands rest on your arms, keeping you from falling on your ass. "Where are you going?" He asks. "I thought I told you not to move."

"I was trying to get away from Minho. He tried to talk to me," you inform him, your hands gently playing with the zipper on his sweater. "You told me to stay away from him, remember?"

He hums before kissing your lips. "Let's go see what the asshole wants," Dal seethes after pulling away, tugging you back towards his car.

By the time the two of you show up, Minho is about a quarter of the way back to his own vehicle. Dal shouts his name, gaining his attention as well as the attention of people around him.

"What do you think you're doing? Talking to my girl?" He asks instantly, raising his arms to shove the brunette.

Minho swiftly steps out of the way, avoiding being shoved roughly. "You introduced her to everyone else here, so why not me?!" He counters Dal's question, raising a brow. "Are you afraid she'd leave you for me?"

You and Dal scoff in unison. You didn't realize how much of an ass Minho was up until now. "For you?" Dal laughs, a smirk playing at his lips. "Dude, you've slept with half the women in this city. Why would anyone go for you?"

A crowd starts to form around the two of them and you begin to feel slightly uneasy. Minho taps his chin with his index finger, humming loudly. "Ah, right, I'm being pinned as a womanizer," he mentions before shaking his head. "I think I realize what's going on here."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dal growls, growing irritated with Minho's attitude.

"Everyone here knows the record you have with women," Minho states, motioning towards multiple women. He points to one with platinum blonde hair, remembering her being with him a few weeks ago. "He was with her three weeks ago. I saw them down the alley."

Your eyes widen, looking towards the woman he's pointing to. "You're full of shit," Dal says, "I don't even know who that is."

"Of course you don't. I'm done with this conversation," he announces. "You're a fucking idiot."

Minho walks away, sliding into his vehicle. He revs his engine once before driving towards the starting line. The crowd begins to dissipate, and Dal walks over to you.

"He's lying, right?" You ask him, avoiding his touch.

"Of course he's lying, baby girl," he tells you with a scoff. "I told you how much of a dick he is."

He tries to touch your arm again but you stop him. "I need some air away from you," you tell him, walking away from him before he can say anything.

You run your fingers through your hair. You don't know what's worse, witnessing Minho's personality or finding out your boyfriend is possibly cheating on you. You find the woman Minho accused and you quickly make your way to her.

"Excuse me? Can I ask you something?" You call out to her, giving her a small smile. She looks at you hesitantly before she nods her head yes. "Was what Minho said true? I just want the truth. I won't get mad, I promise."

She releases a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but, yeah. I swear to God he never mentioned having a girlfriend," she confesses, placing a hand over her heart.

You swallow the lump in your throat, trusting her honesty. "Thank you for telling me," you tell her before walking away.

You try your best to keep the tears at bay, blinking rapidly while staring at the pavement. Your footsteps slow once you hear Minho's deep voice.

"I swear to God, Chan. I'm going to stop coming to these. This guy is the absolute fucking worst and it's killing the vibe," Minho says into the phone.

You stop in your tracks, turning your head to see the brunette sitting in the driver's seat. His door is open, his legs sticking out of the vehicle.

Minho's eyes meet yours and he can see the unshed tears in your eyes. "I gotta go," he mentions before hanging up. He lifts himself up, shoving his phone into his pocket. "Hey, are you okay?"

You let out a dry laugh and lick your lips. "I'm absolutely fucking peachy. I found out that my boyfriend's been cheating on me. Not how I thought my night would go," you spit at him.

His dark eyes look down at the concrete sidewalk. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your relationship," Minho sighs, slowly reaching a hand out to touch you. "He's been on my ass ever since I started street racing. I just wanted him to shut up."

"I'm sorry I believed his lies," you whisper loud enough for him to hear.

"It's okay. You didn't know, and you were being a supportive girlfriend," he shrugs his shoulders. "I forgive you."

A laugh escapes your lips as he gives you a sassy smirk. He's pretty cute… You think to yourself as it grows quiet between the two of you.

"Hey, do you think you can drive me home?" You ask him after a minute or two, looking up at him.

"Yeah, sure. Although I have a race to finish first," Minho laughs, motioning his arm towards his car.

You shake your head and reassure him that it's fine that you're willing to wait. He slides back into the driver's seat, shutting the door afterward. His eyes meet yours after he fastens his seatbelt, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you going to get in?"

Your eyes widen at his question. "O-Oh, I don't normally ride in the car during races," you stutter, shaking your hands back and forth.

"I'm not going to leave you standing here by yourself. Especially with him still around," Minho nods towards his passenger seat. "Get your pretty self into the vehicle."

You press your lips together, knowing that you won't be able to get out of this. "Okay," you whisper mainly to yourself, walking around the front of his vehicle.

He leans over the passenger seat and opens the door for you. You thank him and slip into the leather seat, shutting the car door immediately after.

"Y/N!" Dal's voice captures your attention, glancing out the window to see him walking closer to Minho's car. "What are you doing with him?! Come on, let's go!"

"You lied to me," you tell him, trying to keep yourself calm. "I asked you if Minho was lying, and you told me yes. But, I found out that he wasn't."

"Baby girl, listen," Dal starts to explain, his hand reaching for yours. "She meant nothing to me. Why would I need her when I have you?"

You let out a dry laugh, scoffing immediately afterward. "You're so full of shit," you shake your head. "We're done."

Anger flashes through his eyes, and he does his best to try and force you from Minho's vehicle. "Yah! Have some fucking respect," Minho curses, leaning across your body to shove Dal's hand out the window. "You don't get to treat her like that."

"Fuck you," he spits at the two of you before storming off.

Minho's hand gently grabs yours, feeling your heart starting to flutter. You meet his eyes, providing him a small smile. "Thank you," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

He laces his fingers with yours, a smile coming to his lips. "If you're free tomorrow, I'd love to take you out to lunch or dinner," Minho offers, leaning his head against the seat.

"Are you asking me out?" You chuckle and bite your lip.

"That depends on what your answer is," he says before starting the vehicle.

Other racers line their cars up with Min's, hearing the announcer state that the race will start within a couple of minutes. He releases your hand and places it on the head of the stick shift.

"And if I said yes?"

Minho glances over at you. "Then, yeah, I'm asking you out," he mentions smugly.

You hum in response, a light chuckle leaving your lips again. "If you win the race, I'll go out with you."

He licks his lips and revs his engine. "Only if I can kiss you for good luck," Minho counters, his need to feel your lips on his very high.

Your cheeks blush and you don't hesitate to agree. The two of you meet in the middle, your nose brushing against his before his lips press against yours.

One of your hands finds the jacket he's wearing, gripping it tightly. The kiss is shorter than you like, a whine escaping your lips when he pulls away. Minho hums before slowly opening his eyes.

"If I win, can I kiss you again?"

"Yes," you whisper as a woman walks in front of the line of cars.

Minho glances back at you as you settle into your seat, buckling yourself in. The woman raises the flags for about ten seconds before swiftly waving them down.

"Hold on tight, pretty," Minho smirks while shifting into gear, speeding down the lit streets.

~

tagging: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @foxinnie8 @moon0fthenight @luckieleaf @stayconnecteed @tiaxa @yoonrimin @sunny-future @daysofskz-ateez @endzii23 @sweetbutpsychovalkyrie @bunnies-only @sleepyleeji @hhwangsmoon

[elliespuns]

Seeing the whole Joel thing with a Daddy kink reminds me of something else, Ellie being so horny? Like yes I read them because it’s a fanfic😔 but realistically speaking after a victim is hit with SA they can either be easily repulsed by sex or be hyper sexual. I’m sure Ellie didn’t suffer a lot after David & I love how your Drabble captures it after.

Another thing I hate when people say Ellie has so much experience in sex? Like being honest she’s probably only had sex about 2 times because it’s clear she’s had sex before when she got with Dina. Not to sound like a perv but Ellie did have Cat before & suspecting since they were both 17 & dumb teens it’s likely they did it before.

Another thing I really doubt Ellie would be dominant in bed being honest she probably looks like a standing stick bug trying to top you, as much as I love her. (I wanna give her a big fat smooch) yes I am talking about older Ellie & in none of these paragraphs am I talking about 14 year old Ellie-🕸️

ELLIE'S TRAUMA: The thing David did to Ellie was horrible. I still have chills just thinking about it. It definitely took a toll on her. We can see it when the game skips to the spring section (which is already a few months after David) and the deer on the wall awakens some bad memories of the incident in her and she suddenly becomes really sad and distant.

But as you say, I don't think she suffered that much from it (hopefully thanks to the fact he didn't have a chance to actually do any real harm to her). We can also see that it doesn't affect her as a person that she is in Part 2 at all. All she is is because of what happened at the hospital, not because of what happened with David. Of course, she carries it with her everywhere she goes, but after she managed to kill that motherfucker, I believe that her strong personality and bravery helped her to accept it and move on.

There are a lot of fics that capture her trauma after what happened with David, but I think the writers just portray their own trauma through Ellie for they feel close to her because she went through something similar (or the same). Which is okay. It's just not canon for Ellie as we know her. I think she felt bad for a long time after it happened, but I also believe that she was more upset about having to chop the man's face into pieces than about him hovering above her, trying to do things. I guess the fact that he didn't have time to finish what he started caused Ellie to be more 'accepting' of it.

ELLIE'S SEX LIFE Ellie is definitely not as sexually active as many people make her in their fics (again, it's just their way of portraying her as they want her to be). Which, again, is completely okay.

Although there are a few fics that make Ellie be like this and that just doesn't rub me the right way. Whenever I read something like this, I have a feeling I'm reading about someone else. I don't read much of the Ellie x reader thing (mostly because in most of them she is portrayed as a dominant and hypersexual nymph and it's not my thing), but I've read a few.

I have to admit though, that until recently, I always thought that Ellie had her first time with Dina. But when I play the scene in my mind over and over, I can see she's the one pushing Dina down, laying on top of her, feeling confident about 'taking over'. Which wouldn't probably happen if she was completely inexperienced. She knew how to do that already, and she had no other intention than to make it happen.

I also think that she had sex with Cat (and if not sex-sex, they definitely did things together). They must have tried. C'mon, I don't know how old Cat was, but Ellie was 17. That girl was probably having sexual thoughts at 15 already, let alone at 17. I mean... let's not forget she was still a hormonal teenager like everyone else at this age.

And as far as it goes for Ellie being dominant, yeah, I can't see that. She's probably this cute, little lame cookie trying her best to make her girlfriend feel good, always asking things like, "Is that okay?" during her first time or "Does that feel good?" during regular sex. Like, I'm sorry, I just can't see her pushing someone against the wall with words like, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk." Like, no, this is not the Ellie we know.

[moodymisty]

hello❤️‍🔥I hope everything is fine with you in life✨Congratulations on the beginning of October🥰 Lion El'Jonson/reader-aristocrat Let everything revolve around the official ceremonial portrait (well, you know those huge full-length paintings when women are sitting on a high-backed chair in a ball gown, and a man is standing a little behind with his hand on his wife's shoulder and they are holding hands) Lion in the days before the Heresy was very skeptical about the idea of making such a portrait, but in the end the reader persuaded him. Cute moment Then skip all the way to Heresy. There is confusion everywhere, war. The reader is either on Caliban or Terra. Lion sent them there, thinking that she would be safe. And so he looks either at the portrait itself or at a small picture and feels anxious and longing for quiet days. And skip up to 41k. Lion woke up after so many years, everything changed around. But he still has this little reproduction and he looks at it when it gets hard. Lion is transported to pleasant memories where everything was fine. He does not know what has become of the reader and the original portrait🥺 Hope for a happy ending or an open dramatic ending - the choice depends entirely on you how to complete it🌹

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Hey! Sorry this took so long, it took me a hot minute to get it going but once I did I really like how it came out. I hope you enjoy, and it's close enough to what you wanted :3

Summary: Azrael asks a newly awoken Lion about a Chapter relic with a curious history.

Relationships: Lion El'Jonson/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Reader's fate is vague but given the amount of time passed largely spoken about as if dead, Typical 40kness, Far less fluffy than perhaps you wanted but I got carried away with the angst

Word Count: 1196

"Father,"

Azrael looks towards the man he calls his pater, who only spares him a sparse glance. They stand side by side, and while the Primarch in all of his glory dwarfs the Chapter Master, Azrael still feels more on equal terms that he thought he would- in the presence of their Primarch.

The Lion however still finds himself unfamiliar with the Chapter Master, and it has proven difficult for the two to navigate around each other. It has been many years since The Lion drew breath of his own accord; Much has changed since then. The Dark Angels have grown more suspicious, secretive; The Fallen have grown in number. The Necrons, the Tyranids, his father being nothing more than a rotting corpse splayed across his golden throne in a mimicry of what once was.

He stares at the 'relic'- as Azrael had called it when they'd first approached- ahead of him, and it serves as a beacon to a place he can no longer go.

He knows this isn't the original.

The original was put in a gold frame with a delicate filigree, this one is in one of the distinctive Dark Angel green. To match the surroundings, or perhaps the actual art was removed from it's old frame and into this one. Damage, perhaps. The canvas is torn, yellowed with age and the signature of the artist who'd captured this moment in time is unreadable. He can barely see your face, with how much the paint has fallen away.

He can barely see his own as well. Perhaps it's all for the best.

"Who is she?"

The Chapter Master holds his winged helmet in his hands, a rare moment of him not being fully armored. He glances towards the portrait with a stoic curiosity and continues speaking.

"We, know vaguely of her mention in texts from the Heresy, but nothing else. Not even her name." The Librarium is quiet. Only he, Azrael, and a few others occupy the monumental space. The painting is surrounded by other relics of the chapter; Statues, weaponry from warriors of old, scripts and written texts.

"We've never known. Years of searching lead us nowhere, so we had given up our attempts. It was thought to be knowledge lost to time." He hesitates. "Lost to the Heresy."

The Astartes faces trouble with identifying the expression on his Primarch's face, as they both stand paces away from the tattered relic. When he accepts that it's unreadable, he casts his eyes back towards the old painting.

Azrael can tell from what paint is left on the canvas that you're clearly smiling.

Even thousands of years later the warmth of that smile is still palpable; Multiple Dark Angels have found an odd, abit unfamiliar solace in it. It's not uncommon for the Captains and Commanders of the chapter to ponder it in the rare moments they need a form of clarity. It seems to help, and none of them have ever found why.

The dress you wear in the portrait matches the green they cast their armor in, though the paint has lost it's vibrancy over the years. It still matches The Lion's armor however, as he stands behind you the chair you're seated in. You're on a small platform, to make it easier to fit the Primarch who is massively taller into the same frame. His hand rests firmly on your shoulder, and your much daintier, unarmored hand softly grasps two of his fingers.

It's peaceful. It makes the Chapter Master think as to what life was like before the Heresy took it all away. It makes him wonder how a clearly baseline human could have had such a bond with a god; A Primarch.

Meanwhile, it makes The Lion think back to when it was first being painted- the original one- before he'd lost so many of his brothers.

"Smile for once, Lion."

He doesn't, but he does look down on you with a familiar glare. His face barely changes orientation, but you can still so clearly see his desire to scold you. Tucking a single bit of hair behind your ear, you make sure to keep the same position you'd started in. The artist has already requested once you do so, as to avoid any errors in the painting.

Still as you possibly can be, you try not to hurt your cheeks from holding back a smile.

"Roboute was actually right about you having such a sour moue all the time."

Again, he doesn't say a word. His hand stays heavy on your shoulder however, as he stays remarkably still. He can't feel your gentle grasp through his armor, though he can glance down towards it and his nerves attempt to simulate the feeling; a dull accuracy from the memories of previous times.

He thinks this is all pointless. But it's clearly pleasing you, so for once he'll begrudgingly allow it.

After towing you all the way to Terra, to tear you from everything you knew to surround you with thousands of fresh Astartes all hungry for battle, looking to you for orders you aren't yet trained to give. He supposes he can gift you this rare platitude. Perhaps it will serve as a memory to this time that can be looked back upon in the future. To remember how hard they fought to make the galaxy free of the scourge that fills it.

The painter gestures to his serf to gather another color for him, and the young man quickly scurries off to go retrieve it. Meanwhile the artist continues, working in a fashion far more slowly and inferior to the current technology of the time.

The Lion considers it a waste, though unlike him you come from a planet with an emphasis on the arts; Same as Fulgrim and Roboute. There's something in this you value, and while he doesn't consider himself as soft as some of his brothers, the love he has for you prevents him from squandering your joy.

Sanguinius will surely find this all hilarious.

Azrael glances upward again towards his Primarch. He thinks he hears him mumble something, but The Lion is silent by the time he realizes something might've been said.

The Primarch could taste your name on his lips, but speaking it would only make it worse. He silenced himself before it was spoken aloud for the first time in thousands of years.

He knows that after his 'demise', after he was put in the dreamless sleep deep within The Rock, you briefly issued orders alongside his old council. That's all the Chapter's records have left, after so many centuries.

Not a single one of those texts even mentions your name, let alone your fate. You're a ghost of his own mind. Your memory is but a relic in a Librarium locked away for untold years.

Part of him is glad he acquiesced to your silly, human desire. Another part is hateful, because now he has a memory he can do nothing with but feel the way it aches.

He never answers Azrael. And so the Astartes files the question away in his mind, discontent but accepting to never ask it again.

[chemdisaster]

cat dad au fic! in which kitten comforts scar. few things you need to know for context - "the isaacs" is a silly name scar gave to the heroes who would bully him, kitten uses a bunch of neos, of which i'm using xit/xitself in this fic, and for a few years when scar first found kitten he was under a lot of stress with work and they both had a bad time. that is all

"I like this one." 

Scar hums as Kitten hands him another picture. In this one, the two of them are dressed up as Hotguy, both laughing as a tiny Kitten points a fake arrow at his chest. Touching his finger to the cascading reds and oranges, he inhales the smell of memories and watches the echoes flash by. 

"I have captured you, Hotguy! Give up if you know what's good for you!" 

"No! Never! You won't catch the tail end of my whiskers, Catguy!"

"Not if I use my special bow! You're dead, Hotguy! I will capture you and I'll—"

As joy rings out in the silent air of reminiscence, a smile warmed with time spreads on his face.

"Yeah. I like this one, too."

Carefully setting the photograph aside, Scar moves on to the next one. With Ari out this afternoon, he and Kitten spontaneously decided to clear out some old boxes—and the nostalgia is hitting like nothing else. 

Surrounded by various papers and bundles and scraps, they sit side by side on the floor of his room and exchange quiet comments as they pass around mementos of years past. The atmosphere is peaceful, hushed, and looking from the tiny kitten on the photographs to the grown up cat next to him, Scar can't help but marvel at how long it's been. 

He never thought he'd get here. 

Stifling a laugh into his palm over the picture of small Kitten with a rubber fish and a beard of foam, Scar adds it to the growing collection. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he looks over at Kitten—

And his heart skips a beat. 

Centred in Kitten's padded hands is an assortment of crumpled papers, familiar as anything Scar wouldn't like to recall. Delicately smoothed out and held together with years old tape, the grid pattern has faded away, but he doesn't need to see the scribbles to immediately recognise them and everything that came with.

 

Art of Kitten that xit was never meant to see jumping at him from the frayed scraps, Scar asks, "Are those...?"

"Hm?" Kitten makes a noise that's more cat than anything. "Oh, these? Yeah, you—you drew them for me, didn't you? I remember I kept finding them in your bag."

"Yeah, I remember you kept going through my things like a nosy feline," Scar jokingly gripes. His grin thins at the edges, "I—I do remember these, yeah."

Drawing on patrols, sketch after sketch to block out the mocking, the insults—getting the drawings ripped from him and torn into tiny pieces right in front of his eyes. Sinking to his knees and cradling the pieces in his hands, tears littering the floor.

He kept them as a reminder of his failures. He never thought they would ever become anything more.

"Why were they torn?" Kitten asks after a while of Scar silently staring at his lap. "Did you not like them?"

Scar doesn't reply. Kitten knows about the mistreatment his old team would put him through, but somehow it still feels shameful, even after all these years, to acknowledge that it happened. That he let it happen, and let it go on for as long as it did because he was too weak to stand up for himself. 

Too bad to realise how that weakness was impacting the people around him.

"Scar."

"I did like them," he says suddenly, vehemence splitting from his tongue. "I liked them so much. It's just, I would always draw on missions and I'd get distracted and, well," Scar shrugs, smiling like it's all right past the bitter lump in his throat, "the Isaacs didn't like that."

"Oh."

He doesn't know why it means so much to him. They're only drawings. Stupid doodles of Kitten to chase away the self-loathing that never really left. They're not even good. And yet here he is, decades past and still getting emotional over things that don't matter. It doesn't matter.

He doesn't matter.

"I thought you were the one who tore them," Kitten blurts out. "I thought you didn't like them, and that's why you tore them. I," he breaks off, his tail curls around his legs. 

"Back when I was a kid, I thought it was because you didn't like me."

Guilt grips Scar's chest. All those years ago, when Kitten would curl up in front of a closed door—the drawings were an attempt at something good. To show him how much he appreciated him when words wouldn't come. And he ruined that, and now he's ruined what was meant to be a simple cozy afternoon.

He ruins everything, he's always known. Somehow it still hurts.

 

.

.

.

.

.

Kitten is worried about Scar.

Has been for a while now, and the torn drawings are only the start of it.

The few years during which little bits of tape would stick to his claws were hard on them both, and even years later xit can't stop the cold dark grey of abandonment from creeping up when xit thinks of that awful time. Staying up late waiting for Scar to come home, only to fall asleep and wake the next day to an empty flat—it was soul-sucking.

But he healed. He's not there anymore. Lately, he's not so sure about Scar.

A good few minutes pass before xit decides to speak up.

"It was really hard for you back then, wasn't it?"

Focus sinking into nowhere, Scar jerks as he breaks out of his daze. 

"Huh, what?" 

"Those first few years. When it was just you and me. Taking care of a child while working the way you did at the time can't have been easy," Kitten probes. He doesn't expect anything but the deflection he's come to know, and he wishes Scar would be honest with him. 

He wishes Scar would be honest with himself. 

"Well, I mean—there were some rough patches, yeah," his friend stammers out. "But—"

"You would cry yourself to sleep."

Scar's head shoots up, the dark bags under his eyes never seemed more prominent.

"I heard. Every time."

He looks down, "I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologise," Kitten says quickly. "Just...we keep talking about what it was like for me, yeah? But we never talk about what it was like for you."    

Abruptly, Scar gets up and walks over to the bed, sitting down, rocking back and forth as he pulls his sleeves over his fingers. 

"It's—it doesn't matter. I'm okay now."

Kitten follows, clambering up next to him and peering past the curtain of brown hair at the face hidden beneath. 

"I'm not sure you are."

Scar's expression crumples for a split second.

"Don't worry about me, Kitten," he says. "I'll—it's not your job to look after me."

Kitten scoots closer, xits tail lays itself over his back. Scar doesn't speak and xit doesn't either; words are difficult and xit's content to sit here staring at the old wallpaper, making out dirty kitchens and wine-stained floors in the peeling vinyl. Stillness can hold all the sentences within its grasp, he's learned—he'll never ask for more than what the quiet can give him.

Outside, damning clouds begin to gather as a shuddering inhale stumbles its way out of Scar's lungs.

"Sometimes it felt like it was all for nothing."

The confession breaks the silence, but does not break the gentle swishing motions of Kitten's tail against his spine. 

"It was just—so difficult," he continues, letters spilling out of his mouth like an avalanche of wretched revelations. "Nothing was working. I spread myself thin every day and I still just constantly felt like I was doing it for nothing. And I'm—I'm sorry."

Scar's hands thrust upwards, he trips over another inhale. 

"I tried so hard to do what was best for you and I just ended up hurting you—every time. And I just," he bends his head, swipes at his eyes, "maybe I'm not meant to be good. Maybe it would be better if I just...wasn't."

His features twist, eyebrows inching higher on his forehead; he looks devastated, wrought with grief for what could have been, what he should have been and everything he never was. Decades of regret play in the creases of his skin as he tugs on his hair, blinking rapidly in the way he always does—the way that always fails. 

Kitten was never one for words, but in this moment he thinks that maybe what he struggles to give is what Scar needs. He needs to exist, and touch not meant to hurt can only do so much.

Stillness can hold all the sentences within its grasp, but phantom promises won't stitch up an age-old wound.

"Scar, you did—so much for me," xit says, and Scar's back jumps in a tremor. "For so many people. I wouldn't be here if you weren't."

Eyes squeezed shut, the other emits a low noise, "I hurt you." 

"You talked to me and gave me drawings and found me a therapist. You did more to help than anyone else ever could."

Scar shakes his head, shakes it like Kitten's words are incomprehensible, impossible to believe, and maybe they are. Leaning forward, trembling hands lifting to press to his chin, he curls in on himself, shoulders hunching like a plea—a plea for Kitten to stop saying things that he can't, won't let himself believe are real.

Kitten does not relent. 

"Look, I know you have this fear in you that you'll hurt anyone you rely on but that's not true. You deserve support, that's what we're here for."

"No, I—these are my own struggles, and I—I can deal with it—" 

Scar's voice bounces up like marbles off the wooden floor; the tears he's desperately wiping off his cheeks render his assurances anything but genuine. Clouds descending in the streams of his despair, he's never looked more damaged.

"You took care of me for so long," Kitten says softly, reaching out for a man who won't let himself accept that love never had to be earned. "Let yourself be taken care of, too."

As his friend continues to shake his head in denial, he thinks of a rainy evening, a door left ajar, a room filled with muffled sobs—and he thinks of two friends, both hurt by the world, both having found healing within each other. 

"I like your ears. Remember?"

Scar slumps, defeated. Loud, uncontrollable weeping tears through him like a wildfire and Kitten pulls him close, rubbing a clawed hand over his back, muttering, "Relax. You don't have to be strong all the time."

Raking his claws over quivering vertebrae, listening to choked cries get suppressed against his rumbling chest, he leans back against the blankets and pulls Scar with him, carding thin fingers through long brown strands as his friend settles, trembling, atop his body. Scar's hands are freezing cold, the wire under his feet looms ever farther down below— 

And Kitten knows in this moment that all that he needs is for someone to make sense of him. And xit knows that, finally, xit understands.

And when Scar drapes himself over xit in an instinctual, unguarded yearning to be near, xit drops xits head into the crook of his neck and doesn't look up and begs that this moment would never end. Kitten's heart may not shine, but he would give all the gold in his possession to mend the cracks of Scar's tainted soul.

And as he drifts to a doze with his friend in his arms, he thinks back to the torn drawings—taped together, hidden away as something to be treasured. And xit thinks, maybe broken doesn't have to be forever. 

Under Kitten's hold, for the first time in years, Scar starts to believe that maybe everything he did wasn't for nothing.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

tsamsiyu ta'em - new names, familiar faces

Masterlist - part three

Summary: Kayla is held captive by her long-lost, recently-found brother and his people. She feels like a prisoner on the outside, looking in as he introduces her to his family

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 5k+

Taglist: @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

Outnumbered by Na'vi men and women, Makayla wisely chose not to fight her own capture. With pleading eyes, Jake had begged her to just let the natives tie her hands and pull her into the forest by a rope, leading her away from Hell's Gate and weaponless. Jake sticks to the front of the group after instructing their hoard of banshees to fly away, while Kayla was being led around from the back. She barely spoke a word after initially hugging her brother out of relief and surprise, and instead chose to carefully observe her captives and kept her face neutral. Her biggest observation was about a certain Na'vi woman who walked closely to Jake compared to all the other warriors, the same woman who would occasionally look back to check on their avatar captive. Kayla wasn't blind but chose to keep the observation to herself for the time being. 

They walked forever until Jake instructs the war party to rest for a bit now that they were safely distanced from the former military base. Kayla is pushed to the floor and forced to sit, her hands still tied in front of her. Jake and the mysterious Na'vi woman move to sit in front of her in their own little tight circle while the other people around them either rested or scouted ahead. This is where Jake told his sister everything, from the moment he left Earth to recent events following the arrival of the Sky People. He left out Neytiri and their children for the time being, hoping that Kayla would simply believe he did everything he could out of love for everyone and everything on Pandora, internally aware of how stupid she would make him look if she knew he had done it all for his love of one individual.

At first, Makayla appeared cautious and doubtful, some small part of her still making her suspicious as to whether or not the Na'vi in front of her was really her brother, in an avatar body that didn't bore any of his old tattoos. She wished she could spit and curse at him, demanding that he tell her the truth instead of this stupid, made-up fairytale. However, some of his tales back up what she had been told of the Na'vi people, the same people who fought and drove the RDA back from their homeworld and forced them to return to Earth. Jake relayed parts of those events that were recorded in RDA data files that Kayla couldn't afford to ignore. She was forced to believe him, especially in her predicament.

When Jake finished his story with a question of his own, wondering how she got here, Makayla's words felt heavy on her tongue as she answered, "Seven years ago, I was given this job opportunity to come to Pandora. General Ardmore said that in exchange for helping her establish evidence that human civilians could live in and out of the avatar link safely, she would help me find your remains and have them sent back to Earth," she caught the slight wideness of his yellow eyes before elaborating, "I was told you were killed in action so I wanted to find your body and send it home to be buried beside Tommy."

"Why does Ardmore want civilians to have avatars?"

"Earth is dying, Jake," as predicted, the Sully brother didn't look all too surprised and Kayla continued, "There's not much left of it, at least that's what it was like before I left, hence why I didn't need a whole lot of convincing to leave. The RDA is not mining for resources or anything like the last time they were here. No, they're now colonizing. Building roads and dams and skyscrapers. Ardmore's objective is to make Pandora our new home."

Neytiri hissed quietly from the back of her throat, "This was our home first."

Kayla's ears flattened for a moment, eyes carefully inspecting Neytiri's every movement before Jake purposely drove her attention away, "So they want you to... what? Be their guinea pig?"

"Essentially," she shrugged, "My job is to test the boundaries and see how far I could go in this body while mine still lies in a lab back in Bridgehead. They want to know how long I could stay in the link without breaking it. If the tests are successful, then they can get the green light to make more avatars, and this time for the civilians once they all move here."

"Tell me about General Ardmore."

"Logical. Analytical. Devoid of any kind of human emotion," Kayla let out an amused scoff, "I wouldn't be surprised if we woke up tomorrow to learn that she's actually a synthetic android. They chose her to run this task force because they knew she would never suddenly feel pity or empathy for any native life here on Pandora. She'll get the job done without even breaking a sweat or a tear. Nothing is personal to her. That makes her dangerous."

Jake slowly nods, adjusting his crouching stance before leveling Kayla with an interrogating look, "You sound like you know her pretty well."

She glared back in defiance, "She recruited me herself. She said I was exactly what she was looking for in a soldier. Now looking back, she probably recruited me to draw you out."

His ears visibly lowered in shame, along with his eyes when he realized he couldn't stand to look at his sister anymore, voice quiet as he spoke, "I'm sorry."

"Uh-huh," cold, unconvinced, and honestly uninterested, she moved onto an interrogation of her own, eyes flicking over to the Na'vi woman crouching beside him, "Who's she?"

Jake raises his arm and gently touches his mate's, "This is Neytiri. My wife. Neytiri, this is Makayla, my sister."

Neytiri, stern and neutral, dutifully nods to the avatar woman, "Hello, Makayla te Suli."

"Did you say your wife?" Makayla's mask slips as genuine shock graces her face, her traitorous tail wagging in curiosity behind her as she closely inspects Neytiri with her eyes. Regaining her composure, Kayla tries dropping her voice into a proper accent while nodding to her sister-in-law, "Kaltxì."

Both Neytiri and Jake curiously watch Kayla and she quickly backtracks and curls further in on herself, prepared to defend her pride, "Did I say it right?"

Jake smiles a little, "It's a little rusty, but we understood. How do you know Na'vi?"

"I was only in cryosleep for three years instead of the full trip here. I wanted to research as much as I could, but reading the words... it's harder to grasp the pronunciation compared to actually hearing it. I don't know most of the language, just the basic phrases."

"Did you... did you by any chance read Dr. Grace Augustine's book?"

She frowned, thrown off by this sudden small talk, "I did."

"Grace has a daughter who we adopted. Her name is Kiri. If you still have your copy--"

"Kiri?" Some angry emotion resembling betrayal flares in Kayla's gut as her tail suddenly goes still in alertness, "You have a daughter?"

Jake realized his mistake a moment too late, quickly looking away again, "We have two daughters. And two sons."

"Jesus Christ," Kayla rocks back on her heels for a moment, the resentment taking over for a brief moment as she raised her voice, "Anything else you'd like to dump on me?"

~~~~~~~~~

Instead of telling her, Jake just showed her. Ordering his war party to move out, they call and summon their ikran and Kayla is forced onto the back of one. This was the only time she tried resisting, and the Na'vi warrior in charge of her gnashed their teeth at her restraint before manhandling her onto the back of the mighty creature. Still tied up and unable to flee, Kayla became as stiff as a board as they flew up into the sky, joining the rest of the group. Jake flashed a sympathetic smile from his mount before flying further ahead to lead the party home.

What felt like forever to Makayla was only a couple of hours of flying through the clouds until a large shadow formed ahead of them. Squinting her eyes, Kayla tries to make out what the shadow was until it grew closer and her stomach dropped. It looked like a mountain, but she couldn't spot any means as to why it was floating instead of rooted in the ground far below. As they pass the large rock facing, they fly past another, then another, and then another, until the sky finally cleared of clouds and Kayla's breath was completely taken away.

Hundreds of large rock facings, scattered around the skies, floating around and hovering high over her head. Large vines protruding from the rocks act as anchors and bridges between mountains, passing through small waterfalls and all sorts of life that were thriving on the surface of each rock face. Life forms and vegetation sprouted from each mountain, and hundreds of ecosystems much similar to the ones on the ground, all of which acted as their own individual continents on their own respective mountains. Kayla couldn't bring herself to look away, craning her neck up to watch the mountains as the banshees peacefully fly through them without much effort. She even took a moment of awe to lean forward and feel the mist of a nearby waterfall as they flew by.

The winds change and the ikran shift their wings ever so slightly, gliding sharply among the sky's current and forcing Kayla to hang on for dear life. They float higher than before and Kayla realizes that among the mountains were vast cave systems, all connected and large enough to carry cargo ships. The banshees slap their wings to slow their descent, landing at the mouths of the caves. Makayla is dragged off and her bonds are cut away. Rubbing her aching wrists, she looks around, cautious when she noticed more Na'vi than ever before, glaring as they walk past her to greet the returning war party. Various shapes and sizes of tents and huts line up around the cave walls, an entire clan of Na'vi shuffling past one another, breathing together as they went about their day.

Kayla nearly jumps out of her new blue skin when a hand claps down on her shoulder. Spinning her head around and pulling away, she doesn't even relax when she realized the hand belonged to Jake as he finally caught up with her. He draws his hand away when she flinched and proceeded to nod to the entire campground, "Welcome to High Camp. I'll introduce you to the Omatikaya."

A gathering of Na'vi begins to swarm around the returning troupe, especially around Makayla. Even though she had more layers on, she felt the most vulnerable, even compared to an infant she caught sight of, snuggled in a tight frontal wrap at its mother's breast. How a baby felt more secure in that than Kayla in her red-brown crop top and cargo shorts could easily stem from how the Na'vi people glared at her but fond over the child. Their looks of scrutiny alone made Kayla feel as though she was the child.

"Mama! Daddy!"

Kayla's head spun in the direction of a child calling out to her parents, spotting a young Na'vi girl, easily the same height as her hip, come running toward the war party. Her heartbeat nearly stops, however, when that child jumps into the arms of her parents, who are none other than Jake and Neytiri, and they happily embrace her.

"Tuk." Neytiri hummed with relief, closing her eyes in contentment as she held her daughter's head to her body.

Jake placed a gentle hand on the top of the little girl's head of short, braided hair while kissing the side of her temple, "Did ya give your brother a hard time?"

"Nope! We made a necklace for Grandmother today."

"Really? You'll have to show me later." He smiles warmly at Tuk, keeping her close to him and Neytiri even when her mother set her down. Jake looks through the crowd, eyes dancing around in search of someone before calling out in his marine voice, "Alright, Sullys! Fall in!"

Makayla watched as three other Na'vi children emerge from the crowd, though they stood at the height Kayla imagined Na'vi teenagers would be, significantly taller than Tuk but still shorter than their parents. One of the teenagers, the only other girl, lifts her arms and Tuk wordlessly clings to her side. The teenage girl also bore short hair, but it was unbraided and wilder than her sister's. There was a significant change in appearance between the two girls. One of them, Tuk, had the identifiable features of the Na'vi. Big eyes, no eyebrows, and only four digits on each hand. The older one, who Kayla assumed must be Kiri, bore smaller eyes, eyebrow hair, and five digits on each hand. Kiri and Tuk watch Makayla curiously, tilting their heads and even smiling sweetly at her.

The boys, however, are a different story. One was taller and clearly older, with the typical Na'vi features. The other was shorter and bore the features inherited by his father, fingers and all, much like Kiri. Kayla had clocked the younger boy right away. He had been the closest to resembling Jake's avatar form... but there was something about the way he held himself that gave Kayla a sense of déjà vu. Maybe it was the furrow of his eyebrows or the small frown on his lips, but a small part of Kayla recognized the human side of Jake in the boy. Neither he nor his older brother stared at her with kind eyes, like their sisters. They stared at her with caution and perhaps only a dash of awe.

Jake doesn't appear bothered by it as he places his hand back on Kayla's shoulder, nearly making her flinch again, "This is my sister, Makayla. Kayla, this is my oldest son, Neteyam. Our oldest daughter, Kiri. Our youngest son, Lo'ak. And this ball of fire is Tuktirey."

Tuk squealed with laughter when her father crouched down and scooped her up in the air. He placed the young child on his hip while turning to Kayla, smiling between his sister and his daughter while speaking gently to Tuk, "I want you to treat her like family, okay? Because that's what she is. Family."

All four Sully children relax at their father's words, though Neteyam is the last to do so since he had waited for his mother's nod of approval before also softening his gaze at Makayla. But Kayla was not as easy to buy into this new arrangement, finding herself taking a step back as her chest squeezed painfully. Her eyes dart to all the faces around her, not just her newly acquired nieces and nephews. This was all too much, too overwhelming. This had been too much information being dumped on her lap all in one day. It felt like some sort of fever dream that she was desperate to wake from.

Jake observed the way his sister began to close up on herself, eyes darting in several directions as if looking for an exit route. He hands Tuk over to Neytiri and slowly approached Kayla, "Why don't we bring you somewhere that's more familiar, yeah?"

His hand grips the back of her neck, squeezing once and Kayla gets the message. She doesn't have a choice even though Jake isn't ordering her. She moves forward with Jake right behind her, using the hand on her neck to guide her through the crowd of Na'vi, who part like the Red Sea for her and her brother. She keeps her eyes forward, timid, her jaw tight and her teeth grinding together uncomfortably, but Kayla refuses to show any physical signs of discomfort apart from gripping her hands tightly in front of her. Jake guides her away from the crowd and his family, all the while dread takes its place in Kayla's strong bones. Despite having a newfound family, they were all strangers to her, and she could feel those strangers' eyes all searing into the back of her skull as she walked away.

After a bit of walking through the camp and seeing the strange sights of Omatikaya life, Kayla discovers something familiar that Jake no doubt wanted her to see. Humans. Humans, avatars, exo-packs, and the topping on the cake was the inflatable but clearly man-made biolab trailer sitting at the edge of the Omatikaya's various campsites throughout the linked cave system. Standing outside, hands on his hips, was a human man waiting for the Sully siblings. He stood tall for a human, but clearly couldn't hold a candle to a fully grown Na'vi. Beaming behind his breathing mask, he waved them over.

Jake let go of his sister and stepped around Kayla, holding out an arm in the man's direction, "Kayla, this is Dr. Norm Spellman. Norm, this is my sister, Makayla."

Kayla didn't hesitate to shake the human's hand when he offered it up to her, already calming down at the familiar hand gesture of human customs. Norm smiled up at her, "Pleasure to meet you. Do you prefer Makayla or Kayla?"

"Kayla, if you don't mind."

"You got it. It's nice to finally meet you. I, uh... I knew your other brother. Tommy. We went through avatar training together."

Her eyes briefly widen before shrinking back to normal size. Well, at least normal for an avatar, "Oh."

"Yeah. I'm sorry about his passing."

"Thanks."

Norm nods to Jake before standing off to the side, gesturing for Kayla to follow him, "Let me show you around and introduce you to the others."

Kayla firmly nods, only briefly glancing back at Jake before leaving him behind, dutifully following Norm. He first brings her to a large, Na'vi-made tent that loomed off to the side of the inflatable trailer. Kayla later learns that the tent is called a marui as Norm points it out to her,

"So this is the Longhouse. This is where the avatars are stored and monitored when not in use. That's where you'll be sleeping."

Kayla nods, "Where do you keep the link gurneys?"

"Right this way," He walks toward the trailer, taking the steps up to the front door before turning to her, nearly standing at her height now with the help of the steps, "It'll be a tight squeeze for you in this form so take your time."

Norm turns back around and opens the door, closing it behind him to quickly take off his mask in the depressurized room before opening the opposite door into the lab, closing the door behind him, and waiting for Makayla. He was right after all. It was definitely a tight fit for her in a grown Na'vi woman's body. Kayla was crouching the whole way through the depressurized room, having difficulty closing the door behind her before entering the lab. Norm had waited patiently for her, smiling in sympathy when watching the way her entire body was hunched over in order to fit. He holds out his arm to her, and it's only then did she notice a separate rebreather in his hand, "Here's your breathing mask."

She mutters a brief 'thanks' while fitting the mask around her mouth, breathing in suitable oxygen meant for the native lifeforms on Pandora before Norm turns around to lead her further into the building, "Welcome to our biolab. Link Bay is over there and over here are our amino tanks."

They make their way over to the link gurneys where another man was stationed at. He was shorter than Norm in build and height, wearing a lab coat and glasses. Looking up, the man smiled and walked forward, "I'm going to take a guess and say that you must be Makayla Sully. Nice to meet you. My name is Dr. Max Patel."

"Pleasure," Kayla repeated automatically, shaking his hand in her overly large one before the three of them continued the tour through the lab together. Kayla had to be careful with her tail and long limbs when shuffling past desks and botanical gardens in small glass test tubes. Long rows of tables held various different stages of research, from files of paper all the way up to large samples taking up the whole end with large leaves and UV light lamps hanging over it.

She got to see the link gurneys and other useful tools she'll likely need as her avatar progresses out here without her human form present, but Kayla was barely paying attention to the tour. Instead, her eyes occasionally wandered to an amino tank in the corner of the lab, out of the way of the scientists' workstations, but it was a tank being closely monitored by various machines. Inside the tank, to her slight terror and curiosity, Kayla realized was another avatar woman, nude and floating soundlessly in the fluids of the imitating womb.

Norm caught her curious gaze wandering over to the side and he wordlessly walks over to the tank, turning back to Kayla while placing a gentle hand against the glass, "And this is Dr. Grace Augustine."

"Her avatar?"

He nods, sober and slightly grim as a shadow passes through his eyes, "It's all that's left of her, apart from her video logs. She died a long time ago in her human body. We're closely monitoring this body to try and get a better understanding of our avatars to see how we work and what limits we can stretch out, such as being able to stay linked to our avatars for days at a time."

"That's what the RDA is trying to test out with me." Both scientists simultaneously turn their heads to her, eyes wide. So Kayla explains to them what she had already told Jake, her mission, and her purpose. The three of them spent a while talking back and forth, asking questions and answering whatever they could. Kayla wasn't a scientist herself, but she tried her best to answer questions about how the RDA intends on testing her avatar and her neural link to its limits. From the look in their eyes, she could tell that Max and Norm were starting to form ideas of their own on how they intended to do the same for their own avatars and riders. 

In between their discussion, the two men and woman missed the door outside opening and closing with a soft hiss. Patterns of feet against cold metal floors paddle over to them and Kayla finally catches the sound with a small twitch of her ears.

"What's going on, guys? Who's the newbie?"

Kayla's head turns, looking around before looking down to find a teenage human boy. But for a moment, Kayla couldn't process this because, out of all of the other humans she had seen today, this boy had every aspect of a Na'vi other than the fact he wasn't tall or blue. He was the only human Kayla has seen not wearing normal clothes and was instead sporting leather armbands, beads in his long, blonde dreads, a knife at his hip, and a loincloth similar to Omatikayan fashion. Despite not being Na'vi, he had painted blue stripes all along his body and face, but his eyes were clearly human as he peered up at Kayla with wide, curious brown eyes.

Norm places a hand on the boy before staring up at Kayla, "This is Spider."

The boy, Spider, tilts his chin up as a small greeting, "Hey."

"Hey. Is this your son?" Kayla politely asked Norm. She wouldn't be surprised. Both the scientist and the teenager were roughly the same height.

"Nah," Norm fondly scoffed, lifting the hand on Spider's shoulder to ruffle the teen's dreads, "But we all look after the rugrat."

"Hey, cut it out!" Spider swats at Norm before pulling away to get some distance, fixing his hair in the process. Kayla let out a small snort through her nose, amused at the display.

Norm grins in response to the woman slowly warming up to their new faces, "You'll be seeing plenty of him since he tends to be your nieces' and nephews' shadow."

Spider missed the way Kayla's small smirk fell as he had to replay Norm's words in his head. Glancing between Kayla and Norm, Spider's dreads danced over his shoulders before finally staring up at the female avatar, "Wait, you're Kiri and Lo'ak's aunt?"

This time, Kayla's smile was thin and not as enthusiastic as she does a half wave, "Hi, I'm Kayla. Jake's sister."

"Holy shit," the statement is cut off by Max elbowing Spider's side, then the teen backtracks a little, "Uh, I mean, nice to meet you."

~~~~~~~~~

The communal dinner took place as the sky darkened and the fires ignited. Jake opted out of joining the large crowds of his people in exchange for bringing an extra leaf plate of food over to Kayla. Norm told him where to find her and sure enough, there she was, kicking back in a hammock within the Avatar Longhouse, alone, staring off into space while swinging her leg out to gently rock herself. Her ears perk up at the sound of Jake approaching her without her eyes ever looking away from where she had begun to disassociate. She snaps out of her imagination when the leaf plate is placed in her hands, and she stubbornly chooses to stare down at her food instead of looking at Jake, who situated himself to sit in the hammock beside her.

"What is this?" She asked while poking her food quizzically. 

"Teylu. It's protein. And that?" He leans over to point at another part of her plate, "That's Spartan fruit. Try the teylu first. I promise you'll love it. Remember that time we had shrimp as kids?"

"Barely," she muttered, trying to recollect as she picked up the grub with her fingers, "Dad called it 'gold nuggets' or something like that since shrimp was hard to come by. I think that was also the last time we had it."

"This is better. Trust me."

His grin only widens as she took a tiny bite, pauses, then goes back for seconds. He didn't miss the way her eyes widen and her ears perk up before eating the entire grub and then grabbing another from her plate. Jake breathes out a small laugh, "See?"

"It's... sweet."

"And savory. It's one of my favorites. Try the fruit next. It's refreshing," he barely ate any dinner himself, too amused when watching his sister try out the new flavors. He mostly sat in silence as she ate, and waited to talk only after she was close to finishing, "Hungry?"

"I've been eating rations while I'm out here, and they don't exactly have five-star restaurants on the building to-do list back at Bridgehead."

He hisses through his teeth in sympathy, remembering those days with a pained expression, "Yeah... I don't care what they advertise. Those protein bars were shit. So did you enjoy the tour?"

Kayla takes a moment to look around, remembering where she was before stating, "It's a refugee camp." 

It wasn't an insult or a compliment. It was a blunt observation. Jake nods solemnly, "I know. For now, this is all we can do."

She shrugged, "Overall, it's a good strategic point, I'll give you that. These mountains fuck around RDA's instruments."

"Yeah, that's the point. And it helps that the rogue ikran do most of the work for us if the Sky People try to come here."

"Ikran?"

His lips split into a smile again, "You'll be properly introduced to those tomorrow."

She finally looks directly at his face, frowning in confusion as she reiterates what he said out loud, "Tomorrow." 

She repeats the word on her tongue, eyeing her brother carefully. Jake only nods back, not daring to look away, "Yeah."

"I have to go back, Jake."

"I know."

Taken back by his confidence, she scowled in disbelief, "Aren't you worried I'm gonna tell Ardmore where you are?"

He tilts his head, "Should I be?"

She wasn't sure if a simple 'yes' or 'no' would suffice. It was such a loaded question, given the circumstances. Instead, she pulls her rogue leg into the hammock and balances her empty leaf plate on her knees, taking the time to stare at that instead of Jake, "Twenty years is a long time. Long enough for someone to change."

A gust of air escapes his lungs, slightly taken aback, "Jesus-- has it really been that long?"

She snaps her eyes to him, narrowing her yellow irises into a fierce glare, "I was just rounding up. It's been longer than that. Nice of you to notice."

Jake visibly winced, looking away when he couldn't bear to face the heat of Kayla's glare. He knew he deserved that, but it still stung. The tent is met with silence, apart from the songs of insects and the singing and chatter going on at the communal meal echoing in the distance. Sighing mostly to himself, Jake reveals something he had been holding in his hand underneath his own leaf plate, leaning back over to place the item in her hands, "... Here." 

Kayla feels the cool, familiar feeling of dog tags being placed in the palm of her hand. Without asking, she knew what they were and who they belonged to, but she shifted her eyes to stare down at the identification letters and numbers anyway.  

It felt as though a weight had been lifted from Jake's shoulders as he let go of his dog tags, carefully watching the way Kayla held the chain in her hand, "In case you would rather go home and just bury that beside Tommy. Otherwise, come back tomorrow. I promise I'll make it up to you."

And with that, he stands up, takes the two leaf plates, and exits the marui, leaving Kayla alone to her thoughts. She juggles the dog tags for a bit, pondering as the night grows later and her eyelids begin to droop. Looking around the empty tent again, she takes her time to stare at each of the empty hammocks meant for the avatars. For the moment, she's alone, just as she has always been whether at Bridgehead or exploring the world of Pandora. If she stays up any longer, she'll be greeted by the other avatars, returning for dinner and getting ready for bed. A part of her wondered if reporting this to Ardmore would even be worth it, knowing that all this would go away with one swift attack and Kayla would be left alone again. All those people her brother introduced to her today would be gone, and part of Kayla's conscience knows that the guilt would just eat her up from the inside out, despite not caring too much for these new faces. With that in mind, Kayla pocketed the dog tags and leaned back in her hammock, trying to relax her mind. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and drifts off. 

What felt like mere moments was actually a half-hour later, Kayla's eyes opened and the first thing she sees is the inside roof of her link bay instead of the ceiling of the avatar tent. It was dark aside from the soft glow of the memory gel softly hugging her significantly smaller body or the blinking lights of the neural induction probes acting as stars above her. Kayla wiggled around uncomfortably, noting that she no longer had a tail and her attire was more appropriate for an officer than an avatar. Finally, the lid of her link bay lifts, and Kayla sighs in relief, pushing away the censor cage from her torso and lifting herself up into a sitting position with a soft groan. Bringing her hands up, she rubs her face in exhaustion, trying to shake away the sleep as the scan head ring powers down, cutting off the link while a scientist comes around to check on her vitals. Blinking and looking down, Kayla feels a small wave of relief when her five fingers come back looking the appropriate color, pale and speckled with the occasional mole. She's not surprised that Ardmore is also there when she looked up, but Kayla still feels dread at the sight of her, regardless. The general is standing in attendance at the end of Kayla's link bay, as still as a statue, with her hands behind her back. 

Like her eyes, her words are cold, "Anything to report?"

"No, ma'am. Nothing." Kayla shakes her head, using her hair as an excuse to look away while running her fingers through her locks to tame it. She didn't know why the lie fell so easily from her lips, but when she finally looked up to stare back at Ardmore, she doesn't feel an ounce of regret and kept her facial expressions close to empty.

Ardmore only nods, once, "Is the avatar safe?"

"Yes, ma'am. Hiding in a tree."

"Those savages are known to climb like monkeys in those trees. You better hope your avatar is still there when you get back."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll relocate for the next log-off."

A/N: Who's ready to get a montage of Kayla learning the proper lifestyle of the Omatikaya next chapter so we can get to the main plot of the story quicker? I know I am.

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