#please strike until you get paid enough for your efforts

[awakefor48hours]

Striking is a necessity to change. It makes employers feel uncomfortable because you're hitting them where it hurts, their wallet. Strikes are so important to any job.

[roswell-rp-archive]

WELCOME TO ROSWELL SHOCKTOBER FEST 2022!

this year, the shocktober scare co. has set its sights on roswell, n.m. !! parked in the sprawling esplanade on the fringes of frazier woods, tents, sets and grub trucks have been dotted about to offer you the spookiest of halloween interactive experiences— with a twist !! 

shocktober scare is offering you the chance of a lifetime: join in with the shrieks ‘n’ thrills; interact with visitors as one of the many scare actors from available attractions, or work the various dining spots for a bit of extra cash !! ever wanted to scare the socks off of your boss ?? now’s the time to do it ( and get paid for it ) * !!

* if you would like for your character to participate as shocktober staff, please refer to the list of attractions below and message the main with which role you would like to snag.

・  。  ◟   ⟨  ☆  ⟩   SHOCKTOBER FEST ┊  *    ──   GUIDE :

starting from OCTOBER 24TH 00:00 - NOVEMBER 6TH @ 00:00, you can post threads for the event !

please make sure to reach out to other players to broaden your horizons and make some fun, meaningful plots for the week. make an effort to break out of your bubble and start speaking to new characters.

make sure you have replied to at least two open event starters before posting your own , unless yours is one of the first to be posted.

tag any content for the event with #roswellhalloween2022

you are free to continue any regular threads during the event , and to continue any event threads past the end date as long as these are tagged accordingly and you do make an effort to be involved in the festivities .

please don’t feel confined to the activities listed above. we want you to use your imagination !

fig 1. the lab

[ “ 𝘄𝗲'𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻' 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲. 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 “ ]

ever since the incident of ‘82, the lab’s been shut down, seemingly vacant. but something’s stirring in the shadows; you and your group have been sent in to investigate. don’t worry: all of doctor carter’s spliced up subjects must have long since withered, right ? nothing could have survived that crazed scientist’s brutal experiments . . .

staff— 

mad scientist (1/1) — nao chiba

test subjects (0/4) 

ticket sellers (0/2)

food vendors (0/3)

fig 2. circus of screams

[ “ 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗶𝗿𝗰𝘂𝘀, 𝗴𝗲𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗲 ? “ ]

a white-and-red striped tent filled with mirrors of every size and shape, disorientating  your character and leading them further and further into the maze. if the bulging reflections weren’t terrifying enough, just wait until giggles fill the corridors and the squeak, squeak, squeak of rubber shoes trace your every move !

staff—

clowns (1/4) — asha moss

ticket sellers (1/2) — jaden lapointe

food vendors (0/2)

fig 3. witch’s hovel

[ “ 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗹𝘆 ? “ ]

this haunted maze hosts ghosts of a different kind. be careful which way you go, somewhere from deep within the mist comes a cackling reckoning: you might not have been the one to burn them at the stake, but these spectral witches won’t spot friend from foe when they’re blinded by the very flames that engulfed them an age ago. 

staff—

witches (1/4) — suraj das

ticket sellers (0/2)

food vendors (1/2) — sparrow moore

fig 4. knock knock

[ “ 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆 𝗮 𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗽 ? “ ]

every small town must pay the price for its quintessential charm; roswell’s no different: number 17 is the bloodiest building around. after the previous owners left in a frenzied dash of cold sweat, this cadaverous husk of brick and bare bones has been rotting in its spot at the end of an otherwise totally safe street. the locals know not to pass it after midnight— especially not when the clock strikes 3am. is that movement in the upstairs window ? that’s just the pipes groaning, the house settling . . . right ? care to find out ? 

staff—

demons (2/4) — rollo moore, kaya braxton

ticket sellers (0/2)

food vendors (0/3)

fig 5. black lagoon boat ride 

[ “ 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆. 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲. 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗺𝘆 ��𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. “ ]

all aboard the SS. spectre. this is a boat tour like no other; join the captain as you traverse through treacherous waters, with the scaly creatures of your nightmares leaping from behind rocks and the ghosts of the drowned crawling from roswell’s waterways. i hope you’re not scared of taking a little dip . . . 

staff—

lagoon creatures (0/2)

grotesque sirens (0/3)

drowned ghosts (0/2)

boat captain (1/1) — simba gano

ticket sellers (0/2)

food vendors (0/2)

fig 6. haunted hayride

[ “ 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝘃𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 ? “ ]

pile into the tractor-towed wagon and roll along through barren fields of wilting corn. make sure to wave hello to the scarecrows !! they might just wave right back. venture deep into frazier woods, along a winding path leading past creeping branches that rustle and creak in the cool october breeze. what’s that roaring from the darkness ?? you might want to duck, there’s chainsaw-wielding hillbillies on the loose, and they’re out for your head.

staff—

scarecrows (0/2)

farmers (0/3) 

chainsaw wielders (2/2) — jude dempsey, birdie cannon

tractor operator (1/1) — striker cannon

ticket sellers (0/2)

food vendors (1/3) — massoud taheri

FOOD AND DRINK INFO HERE ! 

[duckletranslations]

Ariadne Ch 9 - Answers to Illusions 2

Season: Fall

Tens of minutes later

Niki: Mm~. This doesn’t look like it either.

This looks like a dead end too. Kohaku-chan, did you find anything?

Kohaku: Nope. My end’s also blocked off.

It’s fine and dandy that we decided to buckle down and recover HiMERU-han’s song. But findin’ an exit’s already tough enough. There goes the labyrinth’s spite, striking once again.

Niki: Isn’t this so much more brutal than what the Vice President challenged in Bogie Time? Back then there were a lot of strange traps, so there being few traps now is helpful.

It’s as if the whole point is to make us wander aimlessly….

Kohaku: Y’can’t say “as if,” when it’s actually true. To think this’ll sell well…. that’s questionable at best.

Anyway, I wonder how things are on Rinne-han and HiMERU-han’s side. They’re investigating the opposite end from us, so…

Niki: Yeah. Our side was just full of dead ends, so there’s gotta be something on Rinne-kun’s end.

I wanna get the Red Treasure Chest right this time and get the water or food.

Kohaku: Oh yeah, I got two or three Red Treasure Chest problems right on our way here, but it paid the bare minimum amount of food.

It was a pretty small amount in proportion to the effort we put in and our amount of people. On top of the series of mistakes that caused us to lose the other Red Treasure Chest missions many times over.

People say that poverty makes your wits dim and your character poor, which applies mighty well to our current situation. I’m afraid our minuses are stackin’ up and eventually we’re gonna get stuck.

Niki: Mm, for sure, my calories are in shortage!

I think I’m starting to lose it. So hungry~....

Kohaku: Ah yeah. I’m especially worried about your hunger Niki-han, stuffin’ anything in your mouth no rhyme or reason as ya did.

Niki: Oh, did that happen? Nyahaha, I don’t really remember ♪

Kohaku: It darn seemed like you were conscious, but y’can’t remember? I guess ya were groaning like a beast.

Well, if ya go feral I’ll be stoppin’ ya. Now I’m startin’ to wanta challenge the Red Treasure Chests.

Niki: Mm, mm. As the name suggests, the Red Treasure Chests are more common than the Golden Treasure Chests. Isn’t it just a matter of time until we run into one~?

Rinne: Bingo! C’mere, Niki! Some food’s waitin’!

Niki: Ooh, speak of the devil!

Where, where! I’ll hurry over so please wait for me!

Kohaku: Niki-han! Runnin’ ahead so suddenly like that’s dangerous—

…Hoo, he’s already off.

Seriously Niki-han, when it comes to food, don’t his instincts completely take over? As if he up and becomes a wild animal?

Kokoko. Even so, the way I can’t hate ‘em sure is Niki-han’s—no, Crazy:B’s merit ♪

Niki: Rinne-kun, where’s the food? I wanna eat soon!

Rinne: No, look straight. I didn’t find food, but a Red Treasure Chest.

You’re also hungry, right? Let’s finish the mission and get us some good food ♪

Niki: Alright, sounds good! Touch the key, grab—

Quiz Mission!

Question Number 8: What is the name of the author who wrote “Divine Comedy,” which features the Minotaur in the episode of Hell?

Niki:Aw yeah~! It’s a quiz mission!

This is HiMERU-kun’s specialty ♪ Huhuhu…..it’s been a while since food~♪

HiMERU:You are quite hasty, Shiina. The contents of the chest have not yet been determined to be food.

However, the answer is simple.

The answer is “Dante Alighieri,” He was the poet who wrote “Divine Comedy” that consists of three episodes, “Heaven,” “Hell,” and “Purgatory.” Isn’t that right, Vice President?

Ibara:Correct!

Your range of knowledge is quite extensive, HiMERU-shi~

Of course, it would be a given if it pertained to your hobby of military-related trivia. But I can’t believe you answered this liberal arts question so easily!

I would like to ask you where you could have learned it. However, putting that aside for the moment—yes, the correct answer was “Dante Alighieri”.

The Minotaur’s role in the episode of Hell in “Divine Comedy” is to torment all heretics. One could say it’s exactly like the situation Crazy:B is in now~♪

Kohaku:All heretics, y’say. —All heretics, y’say. —Other words, y’mean how we’re the Crazy:B who doesn’t go along with CosPro’s demands, and acts as we please... plus we’re stuck in this labyrinth to boot.

HiMERU:Since the program is linked to “Ariadne’s Thread,” it was named “Minotaur’s Labyrinth.” So that’s how it is.

Well, there’s a bit more of a playful feel than that. Is this even regular content for a variety show?

Ibara:Thank you for the feedback. We will use the complaints you mentioned for future improvement—Also a lot of time has passed in the second half, so please pick up the pace!

The prize for answering correctly is a map of this labyrinth. With this, you may easily find the way to the exit or a Golden Treasure Chest!

With that said—you must remain vigilant until the end. The fact that I prepared this map means

Enjoy hell to the fullest, gentlemen ♪

Niki:Heyyy. Wait a minute, Vice President! What about my food?

As I thought, I can’t go on anymore….. I’m so hungry I’m at my limit! If you’re my boss, I would like you to properly supply me!

Ibara:As a certain famous person once said! The key to solving poverty is not to give them fish, but to teach them how to fish!

Handing over the map of the treasure chest locations is like handing over food! Isn’t that so, Shiina-shi?

Niki:No, no, no, no! No matter how I see it, fishing methods don’t matter right now! If you really are a strategist, I think you should keep the saying, “You can’t fight on an empty stomach.” in mind…..!

Ibara:Yes, I will keep that in mind!

There is not much of the labyrinth left. Please keep up the good work until the end! Salute~☆

Niki:Ah, uh, sure

….Like hell! Was that not just some muddled up hodgepodge!?

[petri808]

Quarantine memories fic hoarding craze for @thenaluarchive

— thank you to @phoenix-before-the-flame for helping jump start this fic 💜

It was Natsu Dragneel’s absolute favorite time of the day. 1 pm for him, and 8 am for Lucy, his… well, right now they were just online friends separated by distance and priorities. But judging by how he talked about her to friends, you’d never know it. They’d met three years ago on Twitch through a random chat stream about an anime series, and he continued following Lucy on her writing streams. Three years ago, she was a sophomore in college while he was in his senior year. Lucy later moved on to a graduate program, but they stayed in touch, growing close. To Natsu, she wasn’t just some girl online but a real friend he cared very much about. His friends called Lucy his online girlfriend. Pfft. He wished he could call her that.

Roughly two thousand miles away, Lucy Heartfilia was hating life. Her curtains were drawn, and a blanket was pulled over her head to drown out the light. The air conditioner was down to 60 degrees Fahrenheit, working against the low-grade fever and pounding migraine born yesterday. Migraines… the bane of her otherwise healthy existence. It was her fault after all, the temptation of a chocolate dessert knowing full well it was one of her triggers brought on said migraine and all she could do was bear it.

Why?

“Stupid hoarders!” Lucy groaned to herself.

As if dealing with a pandemic wasn’t bad enough, people’s selfish reactions to it were worse. A government agency had claimed that acetaminophen products could help with the virus’s symptoms, so what did people do? Panic buying anything and everything they could find containing that drug! The problem for people like Lucy, is the one over the counter medication that helped with her migraines was Excedrine… an acetaminophen product! And she’d just. run. out.

Lucy’s phone rang and she knew exactly who it could be based on the time. So, she clicked the answer button without opening her eyes.

“Hey, Natsu,” she groaned out.

“Morning Lucy! Oh geez, you sound like a frog.”

“Thanks,” she retorted sarcastically. “I’ve got a migraine.”

“Ouch.” Natsu genuinely flinched. He rarely got headaches, but this wasn’t the first time he’d talked to Lucy when she was going through one, so he knew what she was going through. “The meds aren’t helping?”

Lucy sighed. “I ran out. And did you see the news about all the hoarding? Every store here is bought out. It… sucks.”

“I could check around here and send you any I find,” he offered.

“Aww, that’s sweet of you Natsu, but I don’t wanna trouble you.”

“Pfft. Nonsense. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

“Thanks, Natsu. I appreciate it.” Lucy smiled through the pain. There’s a good reason her feelings for the man had grown over the years. His sweet and caring, yet fun and goofy, positive personality was an easy drug to get hooked to.

“Anyway, I gotta get back to work.” Natsu whined. “Good morning again, stay hydrated, and I’ll check on you again when I’m finished for the day, okay Lucy? Get some rest.”

“Have a good day at work Natsu.”

“Will now, after hearing your voice. Talk to you later Luce.”

She giggled softly. “Bye, Natsu.”

Lucy shifted under her blanket as she clicked off the phone to lie on her back. His sexy voice did wonders for her mood despite the pain still ravaging it. Now all she had to do was drag herself out of bed to eat something and drink water. She never had an appetite when she got these migraines, but it was a necessary fuel to fight it. All Lucy had left were extra strength Tylenol, so she could only hope it would at least take the edge off until the migraine ran its course.

Like so many others, this pandemic had really taken a toll on Lucy’s psyche. It’s not as if she went out a lot before it took hold, but just the fact it made going out dangerous brought different emotions to the situation. School had moved online which sucked all its own, she missed casually hanging out with friends on campus, and simply longed for the freedom of leaving her apartment as she pleased. But she understood the precautions of a quarantine. Frankly, she agreed with the city’s efforts to keep them as safe as possible no matter how many grumbled about it. Did it make it easier? No. But it was a necessary evil.

They weren’t completely trapped, could shop for necessities, visit family or friends, just encouraged to limit such gatherings as a safety precaution. If you went out, wear a mask, and just don’t stand too close to other people. Well, unless Lucy knew the person, why would she want strangers in her personal bubble anyway? And the mask thing? Have you ever been out shopping, and someone just sneezes without covering their mouth? Yeah— seriously, would it kill people to use one?! Why were people so selfish during times like this? Not everyone, but too many. Just like with all the hoarding frenzies that swept through cities, it was frustrating and— “Ugh…” being in a pain-driven bad mood was sure bringing her down today.

But despite all the external frustrations, the feelings of isolation from being in a quarantine for months were probably the most mentally exhausting part. It was lonely being so far away from home during a pandemic. Lucy’s been in college for five years and while she’s made friends in the new city, she was starting to crave comfort instead of an empty apartment. Her life online was one of the few things that made her happy, like Natsu’s daily calls, and kept her sane.

Natsu… her face heated up every time she thought about the man. They didn’t have a lot of hobbies in common, but he was always so supportive and made her laugh like no other could. Where they lacked in commonality, was made up in ease of conversation. It hadn’t taken very long for their online chats to feel more like an old friend and less like a faceless stranger. Over the years they’d talked about meeting in person one day after she finished school. It also helped that he was from a city not too far from where she came from, so if she chose to move back it would be convenient. But she also loved the new city she called home. Oh well, Lucy sighed. It was a decision still a couple of years away to make.

The next morning, Lucy woke up to find her migraine had finally given up. She could still feel the little bastard hiding, simmering somewhere ready to strike, but if it stayed mellow, it was something she could tolerate. Throughout the day, Lucy wasted no time in catching up on the homework she couldn’t finish the day before and making sure to stay hydrated with food in her stomach.

Lucy’s phone rang around 2pm.

“Hi Natsu, how was work?”

“Same ole, same ole,” he chuckled. “And how are you? Still feeling, okay?”

“Yeah, it hasn’t come back.”

“That’s great!”

Lucy could hear a lot of background noise, so she asked about it. “Oh, you’re not home yet?”

“Nah, and the commuters are being extra noisy today,” he responded benignly. “Anyway, tonight I won’t have time to talk cause I got a project due for work I need to finish.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Yeah, I’m still catching up from yesterday too and Levy’s dropping by for dinner.”

They chat for a few minutes about their day as Natsu waited for transportation. Lucy knew he used the subway to and from work, but today it sounded a little different, noisier and she swore there were engines instead of the normal train sounds. Maybe it was static. Finally, Lucy caught the muffled words now boarding.

“Shucks, time for me to go,” Natsu cut through. “Sweet dreams Lucy! I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Natsu!”

Lucy spent the afternoon relaxing online, chatting with friends and gaming. Her friend Levy McGarden later dropped by with take-out food for dinner and the two women caught up on random topics while movies droned on the television. They were both in grad school, so during the semester there wasn’t a lot of time to hang out, but they made do. Lucy was also doing a paid internship at a local magazine 4 days out of the week as part of her master’s program. She really enjoyed working there under one of the senior editors. He made it a fun learning experience.

Life was almost perfect except for the background isolation of the pandemic. Lucy was glad she wasn’t one of the individuals affected by jobs cuts, but it still got under her skin to feel trapped in a way. It was nice with her friend over... ‘Maybe I should see if Levy wants to become roommates?’ She wondered as she drifted off to sleep. The apartment would sure feel a lot less empty.

A knock at the door roused Lucy from her sleep. She blinked and yawned, looking at the alarm clock and that said 9 am the next morning. ‘Natsu didn’t call,’ she thought how odd. Maybe he slept in after working late.

Lucy dragged herself out of bed, throwing on a robe to answer the front door. “Gimme a sec,” she called out as she neared it.

“UPS delivery, ma’am.” The male voice responded.

‘UPS?’ Lucy grew confused. She didn’t remember ordering anything through them, but maybe she’d forgotten?

She peaked out of the peep hole, but all she could see was the box being held up. Okay a little weird, but some of the delivery people did that to show they were legitimate service people. Lucy slowly opened the door but kept the chain lock on while peering through the gap. But what she saw next brought on instant tears.

“H-How?” Her voice stammered out as her fingers quickly undid the lock and opened the door wide.

There Natsu stood holding a small brown box, dressed in a uniform of sorts, with a mask hanging under his chin, and wearing a goofy grin.

Lucy snorted a laugh as her eyes crinkled in happiness. “Is that a Halloween costume?”

“Yeah,” his smile widened, and hand scratched his head. “Surprise delivery,” Natsu held out the box, “for Lucy Heartfilia.”

“What is it?” She asked as she took it from him.

“Oh, I um found you Excedrine.”

Lucy opened the box to find 4 bottles. “You certainly did,” she laughed. “But why’d you bring it yourself?”

“It was quicker than the mail and… I hoped…” Natsu’s mannerism grew sheepish and tentative, “it was about time we finally met in person?”

Her face softened with a smile. “It truly is.” Lucy gestured into the apartment. “Please, make yourself at home.”

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

@sicktember Prompt # 7: Sneaky Temperature Check

Title: In Which Howl Worries About Sophie

Fandom: Howl's Moving Castle (book)

Sophie is tired and careworn and doesn't realize she has fallen ill. Howl comes to her rescue once more, and turns out to be an awfully good caretaker.

(For those who have only seen the movie: Elementary school-age "Markl" in the movie is high school-age Michael in the book. Howl, Sophie, and Calcifer are very much the same.)

Most of the time, living in a moving castle with a wizard and a fire demon made for a very interesting life, and a vastly different one than Sophie had led trimming hats for her family’s hat shop. However, there were times Sophie was grateful for her upbringing, especially when it came to helping to raise her younger sisters. After all, being able to care for someone who needs help is a skill no one should lack.

That was driven home to Sophie not long after the dramatic events involving the Witch of the Waste and her fire demon. Howl and Sophie had broken spells and contacts galore, and were well set up to live happily ever after in the moving castle, with a newly-freed Calcifer along for the ride. However, not a week after the Witch and her fire demon were defeated, Michael came down with a bad cold. Sophie chalked it up to all the stress from the weeks prior, and too much magic flying around. Howl hardly seemed to notice his apprentice sneezing all over everyone, and was much more interested in Sophie, now that she was back to her proper age and properly in love with him. 

It wasn't until Michael's cold took a turn for the worse and he was laid up in bed and not around to help that Howl paid it any mind. However, as everyone knows, there's no cure for a cold, not even with magic. In a matter of days, despite Sophie's efforts, Michael became seriously ill when his cold developed into a nasty case of pneumonia. After this, Sophie hardly left his side. She felt unreasonably guilty that she had somehow caused this, or hadn't cared for him properly in his cold's early stages. Sophie's sister Martha and Michael had plans to get married after Michael's apprenticeship, so of course Martha was beside herself as well. The sisters practically lived in Michael's room during those days, keeping watch to ensure he got no worse, as he lay in bed wheezing laboriously.

Michael finally did start to improve, with some assistance from Howl's magic, and Sophie and Martha breathed a little easier along with Michael. However, since Martha had her own apprenticeship to worry about, Sophie still felt quite obligated to sit often by Michael's bedside and keep him company, especially when Martha was working. 

Howl clearly began to feel neglected. He dealt with it admirably when Michael was most ill, but when Michael started to recover, Howl began to seek some attention as well.

"Sophie, come out and walk in the garden with me. It's a beautiful day. Perhaps we can even pick some flowers and reopen the flower shop today.

"Sophie, I just read about a very interesting spell that you might like. Come here and I'll teach you.

"Sophie, come tell me how you'd like your room laid out so I can start to modify the castle. You can't sleep under the stairs forever.

"Sophie, come here and sit by the fire with me. Calcifer is bored and wants you to talk to him.

"Sophie, the bathroom is a mess. I need your help to clean it.

The petitions quickly went from hopeful to petulant. Sophie sensed his frustration. However, she was too concerned about Michael and Martha to pay him much mind. She had an excuse every time as to why she couldn't rest.

"I don't have time for flowers right now. I need to make another pot of broth.

"My mind is too scattered to learn a new spell. Another day. 

"I couldn't think straight enough to plan a whole room. And I really don't need to move. My cubby hole is perfectly fine.

"I can't sit when I have bedding to clean, and anyway my voice is worn out from reading to Michael.

"Then clean it yourself! I'm not the only one who can scrub.

As Howl became more annoying, Sophie became angrier, until she was brushing him off before he even spoke with a look or a curt gesture, especially when he began to ask if she was coming down with something and she had to tell him she was fine multiple times a day.  At one point  there was only icy silence between them after she snapped at him for standing in front of Calcifer when she needed to cook, and he called her a nagging fishwife. When she shot back saying that must mean he was the fish, Howl stormed out to Market Chipping in high temper. She didn't see him again for the rest of the day.

A few days after their fight, Sophie again found herself in front of Calcifer cooking. Michael finally had an appetite for something other than broth, and with Calcifer gone for part or all of most days when it wasn't raining, she took the opportunity to cook on him whenever she could. However, for once she wasn't chatting with the demon, but was simply attending to her task in a haze of fatigue. After a moment, she sensed Howl standing at her side looking at her, which flared up a familiar spark of irritation.

"If you tell me to "come" do anything with you today, I'm going to scream, Howl. Don't bother me," she said, not looking at him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Howl conjure up a chair and push it behind her. "I'm not asking you to come anywhere, I'm asking you to sit right where you are. Please rest for a bit, Sophie dear. You look as if you're about to collapse."

The true concern in his voice made her bite back the sharp response on her tongue. She let a small sigh escape instead, which turned into a dry, raspy cough. "I just haven't been getting much rest," she said after a moment. "I'm all right."

"You've also kept that cough for weeks now, and it's getting worse and not better. Sit, please. I insist on it. I'll watch the bacon."

"I'm just a little under the weather," she mumbled weakly. Yet she found herself sinking into the chair almost against her will. The fact that he was being so insistent intrigued her even in her tired state, since he was usually so non-confrontational. "I'll sit for just a moment to please you. But don't even think about sitting with me. I'm still mad at you, and I don't want to talk."

"Not a word to you will cross my lips," he said primly. The fact that he wasn't taking the bait to pick a fight with her was also suspicious. She watched him closely out of the corner of her eye, leaning back into the chair as she did. She really did feel much better sitting down and breathed a small sigh of relief, which became another cough. She tried to lean back and rest as she had been instructed to do. It occurred to her that she had been more lightheaded these past few days than she had been the whole time she was an old woman.

True to his word meanwhile, Howl took over the bacon, wrapping a gilded sleeve around the handle and striking up conversation with Calcifer, which Sophie didn't bother to follow. Instead she sleepily admired Howl's handsome profile, and thought for the hundredth time how much better his eyes looked now that he had his heart back. The pendant in his ear danced as he spoke, and watching it sway lulled her into a doze almost immediately.

She woke with a start when she felt something press against her face, which turned out to be Howl's hand.

"I knew it," he crowed. "You *are*feverish. Otherwise you would never be so irritable. Poor, dear Sophie, you must've caught Michael's cold. I imagine you're feeling awful."

She brushed his hand away wearily. "And so what if I am? There's too much to do. I don't have time to be ill."

Howl frowned, then without a word he effortlessly picked her up, bridal-style, and began to carry her up the stairs. 

She tried to push his arms away, but he was stronger than he appeared for how slight he was-- or else he was using magic. She wore herself out quickly fighting him, instead succumbing to a coughing fit.

He carried her directly up to his bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. She half-heartedly tried to roll off the other side to get down, but Howl stopped her with one hand. As she sunk into the obscenely comfortable mattress, the weight of her fatigue fell over her fully, and she stopped fighting, instead yawning hugely. 

"There now, you see? You're exhausted. And you're not leaving this bed for a few days until you're better, lest I have two cases of pneumonia on my hands.”

"But I can't stay in your bed. I should be in my bed," said Sophie sleepily, even as Howl tucked her in.

"I won't let you sleep on that straw mattress one more day. Before you're recovered, you shall have a proper room and bed. Be honest Sophie, the reason you're so against having a real room here is because that makes your being here and what you and I have together permanent, and that scares you. That's why you've been avoiding me too. Michael being ill was just a convenient excuse."

Sophie guiltily avoided his eyes. "I suppose that might be true. It's just such a big change, moving in permanently. And it's all so surreal still. Sometimes I think you and all of this must be a dream, because it feels too good to be true."

Howl took her hand tenderly, kneeling by the bed. "And I thought I was supposed to be the one afraid of commitment, not you. Dearest, I feel the very same way. I'm terrified to see where this road leads, as well as terribly excited. But we'll go slow and take our time and figure it out together. That's what we seem to be good at, if nothing else.

Sophie kissed his hand, a wave of emotion flooding through her. "Thank you, Howl. I needed to hear that." A nasty bout of coughing prevented her from saying anything further.

"And here I'm keeping you talking when you're ill. Hush now and rest. Here, drink some broth. It's yours so I'm sure it's wonderful. I haven't seen you eat properly in days." He conjured a bowl and spoon out of nowhere.

"I can barely swallow. My throat is too sore," she mumbled, embarrassed at how much he had been noticing, while she had been ignoring him.

"Just a little for now, to give you some strength. I'll mix a potion for your throat in a bit. You're under my care now, never fear."

"What about Michael? He needs looking after too," she croaked wearily, sipping on the broth, which was indeed delicious.

"I'll be fine with Martha's help. You need looking after more," came a weak voice from behind them. Both quickly turned to find Michael leaning in the doorway, barefoot and wrapped in a blanket, and looking as pale and weary as he did determined. 

"I knew you were getting sick too," Michael continued. "You've been so tired and subdued. I told Howl he needed to check on you."

"Not that I needed him telling me so! I already had planned to look after you," Howl said, giving Michael an injured look.

Sophie couldn't help but smile at the two men in her life, tired as she was. She knew whatever else her future would be in the moving castle, she would never want for entertainment or affection ever again. 

[sonoftatooine]

Whumptober 2021

DAY 6: ‘TOUCH AND GO’ - TOUCH STARVED / HUNGER

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine

Warnings: Abuse, starvation, solitary confinement

Summary: Prequel to my raised as a Sith Anakin AU where Anakin saves Padmé from execution by the Separatists, here, here and here. A young Vader defies his master, and he pays the price.

***

Curled up in the pitch darkness of the cell that his master had thrown him into three days past, Darth Vader, second apprentice to the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, wrestled down the urge to moan in pain as he wrapped his arms tight around his midriff in a futile attempt to soothe the gnawing ache deep in his stomach. It had been three days since he had been given even so much as half an old ration bar to eat. Three days since he had seen the slightest sliver of light or spoken to another being, organic or droid. Three days that he was only able to count because of the small ration of water he was given through a hatch in the wall what he presumed was each morning—enough to keep him alive but nowhere near what was needed to relieve the the dryness in his mouth, nor the unrelenting headache that was pounding behind his eyes and wrapping around his skull like a vice. He felt sick and dizzy, and he had to fight the instinct to cry. It would do him no good—it would only waste water.

Another groan threatened to escape him as a particularly severe pang of hunger laced through his abdomen. The familiar tang of blood filled his mouth as he bit down hard on his lip to suppress it. His master could well be monitoring him, and any display of weakness would do little to convince him to put an end to his punishment. He wondered how long the man intended to keep him here this time, without food, with barely any water. Surely...surely it wouldn't be much longer. It wouldn't— It couldn't— But his transgression—

Oh Force, his transgression had been really bad this time.

He hadn't meant to disobey. He hadn't. He hadn't defied his master in years—not after the first few times he had balked at being brought...fodder to feed his growing power in the Dark Side, as Lord Sidious liked to call it. But those had been criminals and scum and slavers, people whom nobody would miss and could best serve the Galaxy by perishing on his blade. The trembling padawan that had been dumped at his feet, barely able to hold the lightsaber she had been thrown straight as his master prowled around them, hissing at him to prove his mettle against the Jedi and strike her down—well, that had been...different. He had fought her, of course, and won easily, but when it came to strike the final blow, something had stayed his hand. The look in her eyes, perhaps, wide and terrified and full of tears. Or the fact that she must have been much the same age as he was—fifteen or sixteen, he thought? Whatever it was, it had frozen him stock still above her, his saber pointed towards her throat, and no amount of cajoling, taunting or threats from his master could make him draw back and deal the blow.

It had done her no good in the end. Lord Sidious had killed her in his place, and his rage afterwards had been terrible.

It had only been after he'd taken out the worst of his fury on his wayward apprentice that he had grabbed him by the hair, aching, hardly able to stand, and dragged him down to the small prison cell that he had first kept him in after he'd been stolen from Qui-Gon Jinn's custody on Naboo. The pain was tolerable—he had become accustomed to his master's cold but violent temper by now—but the cell... The cell always wore him down.

It was not necessarily the hunger and the thirst. Hunger and thirst were common even amongst the masters on Tatooine (with the notable exception of the Hutts), and amongst the planet's slaves even more so. Such things were well known to him, deep in his bones. But then, it had always been tempered by the loving embrace of his mother and the warm presence of his friends. Now, he had nothing like that. Only Tyranus, who loathed and resented him as an unnecessary waste of time and effort, and Sidious, whose touches brought pain more than comfort, and only offered him scraps of kindness as a reward for good behaviour. Here, in the dark, he only had misery and isolation and an ache in his gut that paled in comparison to the ache in his chest that was the absence of Shmi Skywalker. Like a hole that had been punched right through his heart.

Vader swallowed dryly as he tried, without success, to ease the soreness of his throat. He could feel a sudden surge of resentment growing within him, familiar and dangerous. It wasn't fair. Lord Sidious was as much Tyranus' master as he was his, but he never treated him this way. He didn't lock him up and starve him of both sustenance and sentient company. He let him see and speak to other people, didn't punish him for not bowing down like a slave to his owner in every aspect of his life. Yes, he was a lot younger than Tyranus—not yet even a man, the snobbish Count had a habit of sneering within his earshot—but both of them had become Sidious' apprentices at much the same time. He had been a Sith just as long as Dooku, and their shared master didn't even want the man as a permanent apprentice. So why was it him who was treated like—

His anger was well on the way to turning into a raging inferno by the time he managed to stamp it back down again. He mustn't think of such things. If he ever wanted to get out of this cell, he mustn't think of such things.

He had no way of knowing how much time passed before he heard the pneumatic hiss of his cell door being activated—it could have been minutes, hours. The sound was almost deafening after so long of silence, and the light which flooded into the cell from the other side of the door fairly blinded him. He blinked, dazed, stretching out his senses to identify who it was that was entering the cell. His mind brushed up against a horribly familiar presence, vast and cold and empty like a dark chasm in the Force. His master.

Still barely able to see, he scrambled to his knees, head bowed and properly subservient as he fought to keep himself from shaking. He could hear the hiss of soft robes dragging against the floor—the only warning he had before his chin was caught in a punishing grip, and his head was wrenched upwards to meet his master's gaze. Blinking away the spots in his vision, he stared up into what little he could see of Lord Sidious' face, shrouded in shadows, expression hard and cold with displeasure.

"Well, my apprentice," he croaked, his eyes gleaming like a hungry anooba's under the shadow of his hood. "Have you learnt your lesson yet?"

"Master..." Vader's throat was so parched that his voice was almost as dry and cracked as Lord Sidious'. He trembled under the man's gaze, trying to shrink in on himself and hating how pathetic he felt. "Master, please—"

Sidious' lips twisted into a wicked smile, teeth flashing dangerously.

"'Please'?," he taunted. "'Please' what, Vader? Do you believe you have paid sufficient penance for your transgression?"

Vader shut his eyes tight, forcing down the tears that were threatening to well up beneath his lids. He mustn't show weakness in front of his master. It would only make him angry.

Of course, disobedience made him angry too, and Vader had already shown him defiance beyond the limited patience with him the man possessed.

"I will accept your judgement, master" he said, because what else could he say when anything but complete subservience would mean further punishment? He wished his master would let go of his chin, so he could bow his head and hide from those piercing eyed behind a curtain of hair. But Sidious did not let him go, held firm and forced him to stare up into his twisted face, without reprieve. His gaze seemed to burrow into his skull like a laser, and Vader was sure that, without even bothering to call upon the Force, he could see past the lie he had so clumsily pasted over the truth of his feelings, even as he tried to bury them so deep down that no one—not even himself— would sense them. The man's smile turned grim and cold.

"Will you now?," he sneered. "How generous of you. And if I choose to keep you here until I deem you adequately punished? Will you accept it then?"

Vader trembled. He would do it, he knew. Lord Sidious was not in the habit of making idle threats.

"Master...," he whimpered hoarsely. "Master, please. Please forgive me. I-I'll obey. I've learnt my lesson. Please—”

Sidious smirked.

"Forgive you?"

The hand that had been holding his chin in a vice-like grip moved to slide up to his cheek in a gesture that, if not for his cruel words and the hard gleam in his yellow eyes, might have felt gentle, almost affectionate. Even as a worm of disgust—at himself as much as Sidious—twisted violently in his gut, Vader couldn't help but lean into the touch, desperate for even the tiniest scraps after so long in isolation. He wanted to shut his eyes—anything to pretend that he were somewhere else, with someone else—but he didn't dare. Not when one wrong move could turn the man back to icy fury at any moment.

"Perhaps I will forgive you." Sidious' fingers trailed down his cheek one last time before he drew back and suddenly, with only the slightest of warnings in the Force, struck him such a hard blow across the face that he toppled hard onto the floor. Vader let out a soft, startled little cry as pain jarred through his shoulder, his mechno hand shooting up to clutch at his burning cheek. "Once I believe you are properly contrite."

There was a whisper of robes above him and then something dropped down to the ground in front of his face. He blinked, dazed, at first not quite taking in what he was seeing. A ration bar. Oh Force, a ration bar. He scrambled to grab it, to snatch it up before his master took it away and—

But Sidious was already out in the corridor, and the door was closing behind him.

"Master!," Vader cried. His voice came out as a thin scream as he dashed to the already sealing door. He collided with it hard as he was caged once again in darkness. "Master—!"

For a moment, fear and anger and frustration welled up inside him to the point of explosion, and he let out a broken yell, slamming his metal hand into the durasteel of the door over and over. But it was not long before the exhaustion and sickness from his hunger overcame him and he sank down to the ground in a heap of dark robes and trembling misery. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair—

But... But at least he had food now, he thought as he clutched the ration bar possessively to his chest. His master had given him food. Did that mean he was on his way towards forgiving him? Would he let him out soon? How soon? At least...at least, even if it was a few more days, he would have something to stave off the hunger. He could make it last. He could make it last until his master decided to let him out. Yes.

All he needed to do was obey—truly obey—and then Lord Sidious would show him mercy.

[marshmallow-phd]

Healing Touch

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: Medical school abroad was the last line on your to-do list before starting the rest of your life. Everything was going according to plan. Everything, that is, until tragedy strikes your campus. In the wake of a professor’s untimely death, you’re partnered with the cute boy with a breathtaking smile in the newly combined labs. You find yourself unable to resist the dimples and shy glances, but his life is here with no plans of leaving. Will you continue on as planned or will you accept the hand that Fate had dealt you?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Final

**

Yixing sat at the kitchen table as the others finished up their breakfast. Minseok took the now empty plate that had belonged to Ji Yeon and rinsed it off in the sink, scrubbing away at the bits that had caked onto the white porcelain. Yixing continued to stare at the newspaper article. He’d read it so many times in the last fifteen minutes that surely he had it memorized by now. Worry pounded in his ears and not simply because of the rise in wolf-related deaths in the area. It had been his professor that was killed this time.

The same splitting headache that had been plaguing him for weeks now came back in full force. Dropping the paper, Yixing rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. It didn’t do any good.

“You okay?”

Yixing looked up at Baekhyun, who stood on the other side of the table. He smiled. “Of course. Given the circumstances. I’m just hoping I can catch up in this new class.”

“It sucks that it had to be one of your pre-med classes,” Baekhyun said, shaking his head.

“It’s terrible that it had to happen at all.”

“You know what I meant. We’re already worried enough about these attacks, but now you’re connected to one of the deaths. We’ll have to be extra careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

“Yixing isn’t the one we have to worry about.” Junmyeon said pointedly. Baekhyun feigned a wounded look. Snickers echoed around the room, except from Minseok’s mate, Ji Yeon. Her eyebrows were pinched tight with concern. And she had every right to be. Perhaps she should even be more worried than she already was.

The headache still throbbed behind Yixing’s eyes. Relief didn’t seem to be coming soon. He stood up from the table, excusing himself quietly as he left the kitchen for his bedroom to be alone.

“Yixing?”

He stopped a few steps up.

Ji Yeon stood just inside the short hallway, arms folded in front of her with the fingers tucked underneath. Yixing thought of her as a strong person, someone who stood as a good foundation for Minseok. He didn’t know her that well yet, but he already say her as the strong type, the sturdy kind.

“Yes?”

“You guys will catch this omega, right?” She glanced off to side, probably to check that Minseok hadn’t overheard her question. The eldest wolf was more than aware, Yixing was sure of it. The connection between a mate and their wolf was strong, indescribably so from the stories he’d heard. If he was honest, he was a bit jealous that Minseok was the first to be mated. The hope he had, however, was that she would not be the last. Once a pack started finding their other halves, it was a domino effect. His time would come, sooner or later.

Yixing mustered up a smile that he hoped came off as reassuring. “There’s nine of us and one of him. Eventually, we’ll find him.” Accepting that answer for the time being, Ji Yeon nodded and walked back into the kitchen. As soon as she was out of sight, Yixing dropped the smile and swallowed thickly. He headed up the rest of the way to bedroom and shut the door.

Tense energy tingled through his feet as he sat on the edge of his bed. They were aching to move, to pace in hopes to work out the nerves, but he didn’t want to concern his brothers who would certainly hear it from the floor below. A run was out as well. As soon as any of the others got a whiff of someone shifting to wander through the woods, they jumped in to join. Only Minseok had the talent to get away clean.

Honestly, that was the least of his worries if he were to go running.

He wasn’t a killer. He wanted to help people. That was why he was studying medicine, why he wanted to be a doctor. But lately… These headaches were never ending, plaguing him over the last several weeks. And then there were the blackouts. Moments of time where he couldn’t remember what had happened. No one saw him during those times. Though he didn’t have to ask when he saw the pack after an episode. He was usually questioned where he had been himself. And he never had an answer. Not a truthful one.

No. This couldn’t have been him. There was another explanation for what was happening, both with the killings and with himself. It would just take time to figure it out.

**

Your fingers clenched tightly to the textbook against your chest. All morning you had been spending time at the library, reviewing last week’s vocabulary in an effort to distract yourself. Unfortunately, in a place like this with a wild animal running around killing people, escaping the whispers and rumors was not an option. It seemed that everyone was discussing the latest tragedy. And it made sense with how close it hit to the university.

“I hear her body was found in pieces.”

“I’m surprised they even found a body with all the animals that live in the woods.”

“Some of the hunters are talking about going out to kill the animal before it kills someone else.”

“No way. Did you see the pictures someone took of the paw prints in the dirt? That thing has to be huge. Like a bear.”

“There’s no way its as big as a bear.”

“I didn’t even know there were wolves in the forest.”

“What? Did you think it was all bunnies and squirrels?”

Unable to take it anymore, you’d slammed the textbook shut (gaining annoyed glares from those around you as if they weren’t the cause of your inability to utilize the library in the way it was meant to be used) and headed out. It was mystifying to you, the way others would talk about what was happening, like it was sports game or a thriller on TV.

Professor Xui was strict and stern, but she was also admired by the students. The “tough love” type. Though you personally had never been in any of her classes, you did know who she was, and you’d cried when you’d heard the news. Naturally, the university was on top of how to move forward. You’d groaned audibly when you’d read the email that the classes would be combining. Your human physiology class was already close to capacity. They had moved your session into one of the larger science rooms where freshman chemistry classes typically took place. Goodbye uncomfortable wooden desks, hello overly tall lab tables and bar stools with no back support.

You were one of the first to arrive at the lab, giving you the pick of the lot. One of the front tables was free so you settled there. You continued to clutch to the textbook that should have been opened to the page written on the white board in front of you. It was hard to let go. This thick, overpriced book wasn’t going to protect you from anything. And besides, you had no reason to be afraid. You didn’t go into the woods. You weren’t the kind to hike or camp or go near the trees for any reason. The flannel shirt you wore was simply because it was comfortable. You were absolutely fine.

Rolling your eyes at yourself and the silliness that was the track of your mind, you let go of the book and flipped to page thirty-four. Other students filed in as the seconds ticked closer to the allotted time. Professor Jiang, a short, salt and pepper-haired man with wired-framed glasses and a dad-level sense of humor, walked into the room with his old school briefcase, corners wearing thin and the metal on the push latches showing the brass base until the silver coating. The duet of the latches still made you jump even after fully expecting it.

“Good morning, everyone.” Professor Jiang adjusted his glasses. A nervous twitch he completed at the beginning of every class. All it took was five minutes into his lecture and he developed the steel nerves of an alligator wrestler. Pulling a pencil out from your bag, you barely paid attention to the rest of Jiang’s announcement. “I know it's difficult to process, but we’ll all get through this together. For the new students, I will be available for anyone who needs help adjusting to the new teaching style. And I- Oh. Hello.”

You looked up to see what the interruption was.

A late comer had entered the classroom, the door slowly closing behind him. Slim yet athletic, the newest student wasn’t overbearing or imposing, but he still captivated your attention, holding on to it as if his life depended on it. And he was staring right back at you with an intensity that matched your own. Mouth hanging open by the slightest of centimeters, he didn’t move or pay any attention to the professor or the other students staring at him. The muscles in his hand strongly gripped the strap of his backpack that hung off one shoulder. He was going to misalign his back if he kept doing that.

Professor Jiang cleared his throat pointedly, ending the staring contest. “New student?”

The new student blinked rapidly as he turned to the teacher. “Yes. Sorry. I got lost with the new room assignment.”

“One of Xui’s students?”

He nodded.

“That’s alright. We all need an adjustment period. Please, take a seat.”

You stiffened as Professor Jiang held his hand out in the direction of the empty seat right next to you. And that’s exactly where the new student sat. You forced yourself to keep your eyes straight ahead, concentrating a little too hard as Professor Jiang started his lecture of the circulatory system. But his words were drowned out by the shuffling beside you as the new student took out his textbook and other necessities for notes. You leaned forward, holding your neck up by your palm as you mentally repeated the highlights of the pulmonary circuit in order to be productive. The scratch of the pen against your notebook seemed louder today. Your heart seemed to be working in overtime as well. Was everything louder today? Or were you being overly sensitive to noise due to the current circumstances?

“Alright. Please, take a few minutes to go over the review questions located at the end of the section,” Professor Jiang said. It was almost a relief for his short lecture to be over. “Feel free to check with your partner at the table. To make things easier for all of us, the seats you chose today with be permanent for the rest of the semester and who you are seated with will be your constant collaborator.”

Oh, joy.

You were not the best at getting to know new people. It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t think. The other person always wanted to start off with the weather or their job or some other subject that you found difficult to bounce off of to continue the conversation. It was like your mind wasn’t built for small talk. Somehow, you’d missed the installation of pre-programmed responses that everyone else carried around. You had a tendency to go a little too deep a little too quickly. Those were the conversations you wanted to have. Those were the kind that you found easy responses for. But people tended to find your passion about Rosalind Franklin and her forgotten contribution to science a little much.

“Hi.”

The cool voice that broke through your scrambled thoughts made you jump. You hit your knee against the lab table. Careful to hide it from view, you rubbed the sore spot to make the throbbing go away. Your new lab partner must have heard it given the shy smile that pushed up left corner of his mouth, revealing a deep dimple in his cheek. As much as you wished it wasn’t, your heart beating rapidly against your ribs.

For several seconds, you said nothing. No greeting back, no “I’m trying to focus on my work”, not anything. You were silent, staring back at him like he was walking around with a windmill on his head.

“I’m Yixing,” he continued in an effort to get you to speak.

Right. Conversations were two-way streets. “(y/n).”

His smile spread even wider. “It’s nice to meet you, (y/n).”

Words had apparently abandoned you today. All you could do was nod. He didn’t take it offensively. A small chuckle pushed passed the silence.  

“Do you want to do the questions together?” he asked. “Or maybe when we’re both finished, we could compare what we got?” he suggested when you still didn’t answer.

“Compare,” you finally spat out. “I think it would be better if we compared. Afterwards, that is.” Not that you were usually the most articulate person, but this was becoming painful.

Yixing nodded. “Okay.” And with that he turned to his book, numbered the lines down on his paper and read over the questions. Taking a deep breath, you turned to your own station to do the same. Big mistake.

His natural scent hit you like a gust of wind on a previously calm day. You weren’t expecting the soft pine smell that he radiated. It wasn’t an overly musty, too-much-cologne type smell. It was subtle; the reason you didn’t catch on to it until this moment. Glancing over at you, Yixing frowned.

“You smell nice.” Oh, gosh, someone kidnap you now. Get you out of here in a fashion that would give reason as to why you didn’t come back. Did those words actually just leave your lips? Turning away from him, you reprimanded yourself for the slip up. Yixing laughed softly, making you turn to face him again.

“Thank you,” he said sweetly. “I appreciate the compliment. Especially since this building has a tendency to smell bad between the chemicals and dissections. I’m always worried that I’ll leave with some of it on me.”

You smiled at his joke. And that was where your thought train stopped. Instinct told you that an additional response was appropriate, but none came to you. You tried to rifle through the possibilities. Before you could find one, though, Yixing had turned his back down to his work.

With the awkward exchange over, you were able to make it through the five questions, writing down the answers with confidence.

“Do you want to compare?” Yixing asked as soon as you wrote the last word.

“Sure.” You slid your paper closer to the middle and shifted your body so you were partially facing him. One by one, you went over what each of you had gotten. Physiology of the human body was a strong suit of yours, more so than of your other science classes. That little bit of pride you had was perking up. It was ready to show off its penchant for knowledge. Unfortunately, this was not going to be one of those times for showing off. For the most part, you were evenly matched. Your answers were close, nearly identical in some parts.

“Professor Jiang might think we cheated,” Yixing teased.

“Well, he did say to collaborate with each other.” Good response. Appropriate response. You nearly patted yourself on the shoulder with that one. You even gave it the kind of tone that said you were merely teasing back.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“That concludes today’s class,” Professor Jiang announced. “As you leave, please stack your answer papers on the corner of the desk up here.” He patted the black top for emphasis. “Have a good day, everyone.”

Standing up, the sounds of stool legs scraping against the scuffed tile echoed through the large room behind you. Once your textbook was zipped up safely in your bag, you reached for the paper. Yixing swiped it up first.

“I’ll take it up there for you.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

You might not have been the only one blurting out thoughts before you stop them. A slight pink hue bloomed on Yixing’s cheeks. You were left there speechless as he hurried to the front, dropped off the papers, and left the classroom.

Dazed was an understatement. You didn’t know what to make of what had just happened. So, you ignored it. It was probably nothing anyway. Checking your watch, you calculated the amount of time you had until your afternoon sessions. There was a long break in between. The smart decision would be to hang out somewhere on campus to ensure that you actually went to your afternoon classes. But you needed quiet. Somewhere with no whispers about the woods or comments about the college’s new schedules. The only place you were guaranteed to find that was in your apartment. The building was a couple blocks away, a short walk no more than five minutes. You would have plenty of time to head there and back.

The front door was unlocked when you arrived. A bad habit from your roommate. She didn’t see the need to lock it if she was home and awake. You, on the other hand, clicked it tight and double checked it before stepping in deeper to the apartment.

Ran was sitting at the table, eating noodles and scrolling through a site on her laptop while her phone played a soft melody led by a pipa. It was a dreamy song, soft and comforting, like what your parents used to play for you after a nightmare.

Sighing to yourself, you sat down across from Ran and let your bag fall off your shoulder and to the floor. You hadn’t taken your computer with you, so the loud clump wasn’t one to panic over.

“How was class this morning with the new students?” Ran asked over the music.

The two of you weren’t extremely close. Friends, but not blood sisters. Ran had been your roommate freshman year and when you started talking about moving off campus, you’d offered her the other room to cut down on cost. She’d taken it rather than risk getting a new roommate that she didn’t like. You were similar some ways and vastly different in others. It balanced out, though, and you got along to the point where neither of you kicked up a fuss about cleaning the rooms or washing the dishes. You simply cleaned up after yourself. It was a co-habitation of convenience.

You shrugged. “It was fine. We’re all partnered up now, which is a little awkward, but I’ll survive, I guess.”

“Are they cute, at least?” Ran said with a smirk.

Yes. “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying that much attention.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Reaching over to the stack of envelopes, Ran plucked the one off the top and handed it to you. “I picked up the mail this morning. Thought you might want to see what came for you.”

Your stomach whirled like it was in a tumble dryer. The envelope had a familiar red emblem of a brick clocktower stamped in the top left corner. With a shaky hand, you took the envelope and ripped open the top. The nicely folded letter slipped out easily. Your eyes scanned the black letters. When they finally sunk in, you slumped back in your chair with a sigh.

“Oh, no.” Ran frowned. “They didn’t reject you, did they?”

You shook your head. “No, not out right. They want to see how well I do this semester before giving a final decision.”

“Well, that’s not too bad. It’s not a no.”

“It’s not a guaranteed yes either.”

Closing her laptop, Ran crossed her arms. Her lips were pursed, eyes down on the table. “You could just stay here. I mean, they have a pretty good medical program and you said that this was where your parents had met-”

“I don’t want to stay here,” you stated firmly. “There’s no reason to.”

“Your aunt is close by.”

“She wants me to do what I want. If that means going to medical school far away, then so be it. I’ll stay in touch with her. Visit when I can.”

“Well, I hope you get in.” Ran stood up and stretched. “On a brighter note, Hae In and I are going out tonight if you want to join us.”

You shook your head. “I’m good. Thanks for the invite, though. I appreciate it.” Whenever Ran and Hae In went out, things tended to get a little crazy. You were sure they had fun and they always came home safe. You just didn’t think that it would your kind of scene. She left a few minutes later and you were finally granted that peace and quite you had been searching for. Well, the quiet, at least.

Peace was nowhere to be found. Stress was rearing its ugly head as you stared at the letter. Ran was right, it was wasn’t a flat rejection. They were, at minimum, interested in giving you a chance. As one of the most prestigious medical universities in the country, you were eager to walk their halls.

The fact that it was far away from any reminders of your life was the bigger incentive. Releasing all the air your lungs were holding on to, you folded the letter back up and tucked it away in the front pocket of your bag. All you had to do was make it through this semester with no hiccups and you would be fine.

Shouldn’t be too hard. There was no reason for any of your plans to be derailed or for you to change your mind.

As long as you survived the next few months, that is.

[secondhand-trash]

A/N: it’s been a long time without any new bentos but its back uwu I know we usually clown osamu a lot in this series but this one is kinda where we give him the appreciation he deserves hehe also its winter and I just have to write about something winter related so enjoy ouo

Warning: sickness, Osamu being baby

Word count: 2375

(click here to see more of Osamu’s bento)

(taglist in the notes, please go to the link in my bio or send me an ask to be added to the bento taglist uwu)

-

Winter in Hyogo was lovely, by all accounts. Not too chilly, but cold enough for the gentle sunshine gracing on your skin to feel like a blessing from the universe when you walked on the streets. 

It would have been a flawless season if you were to be given the luxury of staying underneath your thick, fluffy futon every morning after waking up until your body was sufficiently warmed up and the worst hours of the day had passed before you finally had to leave the comforting confines of your bed. But alas, you wouldn’t get paid for staying in bed and before the day that such a magical occupation becomes a reality, you still had no choice but to give up on the blissful warmth of your blankets at unholy hours in the morning before leaving for another day of sitting still in a cold office with nothing but lifeless documents as your company.

You let out a sigh as the blaring screech of your alarm kept ringing, shutting your eyes tight to relieve yourself of the soreness lingering behind your vision before turning it off in frustration. The room was still dark, and it would not be until you were ready to leave the door that any light would shine through the curtains.

That was winter work days for you, always making the offer of early retirement all the more tempting.

Rolling to your side, you sucked in a deep breath to brace the impact of what was to come before lifting up the corner of your futon that you would certainly miss throughout the day. The chilly air broke through the trapped heat within the layers. You shivered as you hastily searched for you cardigan that draped at your bed side table, slipping your toes that were numb from the cold into your room slippers. Osamu shifted in his sleep at the sudden evasion to his warm little bubble, curling up uncontrollably at the sudden loss of his heat source as you left the bed.

Wait, Osamu?

“Samu?” you called out for him gently, putting your hand on top of his body that was wrapped up by the blanket that he now occupied entirely. 

“Hm...”

There was a whimper that came from beneath the layers, hoarse and muffled as the man barely moved. 

No wonder why it was so quiet this morning. Osamu was rarely up later than you, always out of the bed at the first alarm to start preparing for the day. You had taken being woke up to the smell of warm breakfast and the sound of pan sizzling for granted with it being one of the few motivations you had to actually open your eyes. 

But right now, he was still in bed with seemingly no intention of waking up. You walked to his side of the bed, clutching your cardigan closer to your body as you bent down to push down the blanket that was covering his face just a little. His brows furrowed at the miniature, a bead of sweat appearing on his forehead as he clenched his jaw. His face was flushed but his lips looked dangerously chapped, the few strands of his bangs that had fallen down matted to his forehead.

“What time is it?” he asked groggily, the clear nasal in his voice making it sound like there was something stuck at the back of his throat as he spoke.

“8:30.” You replied, rubbing your hand along his arm as you took in his expression.

He shuddered at the time, kicking away the blanket but seemed more tangled up by it under his attempt as he shifted and tried to get up. “Shit... that’s so late. Why did I miss the alarm?”

You did not miss the way he nearly fumbled the moment his feet touched the ground, leaping forward to hold him by the shoulders before he could fall. 

You had expected it when you saw that he didn’t get up. Osamu rarely misses his alarm, and the number of times this had happened as a careless mistake on his part was near none after he had the responsibility of Onigiri Miya on his shoulders. 

But you knew your guess was correct when you pressed your forehead against his as he slumped over you. He was burning up, his face and his entire body as it laid on yours despite it being difficult for you to hold up his much larger frame. However, the person who was basically a human furnace in your hold was still struggling to stand back up straight as you held him there.

“Osamu,” you said, patting his back and trying to urge him to lay down, “go back to bed.”

“No...” he replied stubbornly, but ended up sounding more like a child who was trying to sound serious with his voice coming out weak and shaky.

“You are sick, I won’t let you get up like this,” you peeled off his hand that was latched onto your forearm, the lines between your brows deepening when you felt how he was sweating from his palms.

“But-”

“Miya Osamu.”

He let out a defeated whine, succumbing to the way you coerced him back onto the mattress as the dizziness weighing on his head finally took over. He was still mumbling about all the things he needed to do today under his breath as you tucked him back under the covers, reminding you to contact the staff that was supposed to come to work this morning as you reassured him again and again that you would get it figured out for him.

He spoke slower and slower as you fixed the pillow underneath his head, words melting into near incoherent slurs before he finally closed his eyes back up.

You did not move away until you saw the heavy breathing returned to a steady pace, even though the loud inhales indicated that he was still having a hard time. Sighing as you relaxed your hands that had curled into fists at your side when you hadn’t paid attention, you pressed your finger to your own forehead where it felt like his heat was still lingering on your own skin.

-

You had gone back to work as usual after spending too long pacing around that morning to call for a day off completely, but managed to file in to leave early. Just the thought of a sick Osamu being alone at home had you shifting in your seat. What if he woke up while you were gone and tried to force his wobbly body to handle chores? You had never packed up your things as quickly as you did when the clock finally strike at the hour when you were allowed to leave, dashing out near immediately the moment you finished off the work at hand. 

Osamu was still deep in sleep by the time you got back, much to your relieve. He seemed slightly more at ease now than he was when you left the house, the cooling pad on his forehead sufficiently absorbing the heat emitting from him. It had been a long while since you last saw him so vulnerable, his lashes fluttering at his eyelids jumped at the way your finger brushed against his cheek when you reached to check his temperature.

“Mm...you’re home,” he fought his eyes open when he sensed you moving away under his half-woken state. 

“Don’t go...”

You forgot how needy he always was when he was feeling unwell and how weak you were against his glassy eyes. Patting the back of his head, you tried to appease him as you cooed, “Let’s try to get you something to eat first, I’ll be back soon. Ok?”

He did not seem to be happy about the suggestion of you leaving his side, but still, let you go with a whine. Grey eyes stared at you from behind hooded lids, his cheeks squishing against the pillow as his hands curled and released at the corner of the futon he was grabbing onto. “Ok...”

When was the last time you ever stood in front of a stove? You were not completely useless in the kitchen by all means, but the long period of having all your meals being taken cared of by someone who not only knew what they were doing but found so much love in doing so had reduced you to nothing but a clueless cloud as you stared at contents in the fridge. There sat the jelly you had got for Osamu, which apparently was recommended to feed to patients for increasing appetite and reducing heat according to the articles you looked up on your way home. But other than that, it was a territory of unknown to you.

There were several Tupperwares labeled with different dates in Osamu’s scribbles. He had always been smart when it comes to domesticities, making sure that the best before was always marked clearly on the package of everything he bought. The drinks and soda cans were always refilled, which you had clearly taken for granted because the suddenly empty space stood out to you more than ever before. There were a few plates stacked up at the corner with sticky notes on the side and you felt a hollowness in your chest when you saw what it said.

“Monday’s bento.”

Oh baby boy...

You clasped your hand together as you gathered your thoughts, not giving yourself the room to stand around doing nothing. There’s a patient waiting for you in bed, and you couldn’t just let him suffer through a fever with an empty stomach.

You rolled your sleeves up, bracing the winter cold that graced against your arm, before searching in your sea of memories of all the times someone had taken care of you when you were sick.

The sweet smell of rice gathered in the steam, warming up your body with each inhale. You lifted up the lid tentatively and was pleased to see the all the grains had already melted together into a soft, fluffy cloud. The strings of egg added a tint of flavour to the otherwise bland congee. It was all starting to come together, and you let out a relieved sigh to know that at least he wouldn’t have to starve. The mess around the counter was evidence that you had to stumble through each step, the ingredients that you choppily diced up still lingering around the cutting board. 

You thought of the way Osamu always out so much effort into making sure you were well fed each day and all the thoughts he had put into each bento. 

The sheer cheesiness and absolute embarrassment that followed what popped up in your head made you shiver. Since when were you the type of person who could even think of things like that? But still, your hand moved to pick up the knife that was put to the side with the other reaching for the scraps that were left from the cooking.

He would probably like this a lot.

You hope he would like this a lot.

-

“Samu? Are you awake?”

The creek of the door was met with a soft whimper. The man on the bed swung his arm over to the side so his still heavy body could move with him, a small smile crawling onto his face when he saw you.

“Took you long enough...”

“Sorry, it’s been a while since I cooked anything,” the wooden tray landed on the bedside table with a clank. He tried to get up on his own, but the shaking of his arm had you rushing to help him at once. He looked sheepish as you lifted the cover of the pot, mixing everything together with the spoon before handing it to him.

Osamu was always touched by food, but maybe the lack of taste in his mouth all day had done a number on him when he had to choke back the urge to sob when he smelt the warm steam filling his nostrils the moment you opened the lid. 

“Is that a heart?” he was grinning ear to ear as he pushed around the congee with the spoon.

“Yes,” you huffed with a defeated laugh under his knowing stare, “now hurry up or it’ll get cold.”

He looked up at you, and your heart nearly skipped a beat when he pouted. 

“Feed me,” he demanded, his voice sweet and like a kid as he held out the spoon in his hand.

You knew he would be all over it. You let out a soft tsk as you took the spoon back in your hand, sitting on the small space next to him on the bed as you scooped up some of the rice.

Osamu felt a warm swell in his chest at the way you carefully blew against the congee, one hand cupping beneath the spoon before bringing it to his lips. His head was still pounding, and the dryness felt nearly painful as he had his first bite of real food of the day but he loved, simply loved the way your eyes never left him for even just a second.

The congee warmed him from within, and he indulged in the leisure of laying against your shoulder while you babied him. 

He latched on you when you were about to move away, rubbing his face against you as he whined. “It’s cold without you.”

“I need to get this in the sink or else it’ll be hard to clean up-”

“Nooooooo,” he held out for the last note of his voice, burying his face at the crook of your neck, “do it later...”

“You’re such a child when you are sick,” you joked, pushing away his bangs and caressed his jaw with your thumb.

“Yeah?” he muttered, leaning into your touch, “Good thing I have you here to take care of me then...”

You sighed, knowing that there was no way you could win when he was acting all clingy and cute like this. He let out a satisfied hum when you climbed under the covers, wrapping your arm around his waist while tugging his head against your shoulder.

“Get well soon, you big baby.”

[suddencolds]

I don’t go here, but I really like how you’ve written Diluc and Kaeya, so: lost voice for the bingo?

Thank you so much for the request!! Also, thank you for reading despite not knowing the fandom, I’m really happy you enjoyed nonetheless! <3 I hope this is okay!

—

Familiarity | Genshin Impact

Kaeya loses his voice, and Diluc is more considerate than expected. | prompt fill for [this]!

—

Diluc, despite himself, knows Kaeya’s order.

It’s not that he’s paid attention—just that Kaeya’s presence in the tavern isn’t exactly easy to miss, whether he’s here drinking with the knights or striking up a conversation with the regulars. Diluc knows his order, but he also never makes it in advance; it’s always been easier not to acknowledge that he’s become something of a constant in Diluc’s life again—predictable, and consistent to the point that it’s almost cruel.

Kaeya’s here alone tonight, seated at the counter, strangely quiet. Some of the knights are drinking at one of the tables in the back, talking loudly enough to suggest they’re well past drunk. Kaeya doesn’t join them. Diluc busies himself with polishing the glasses they leave behind, finds himself pleasantly undistracted, and relishes the silence for the first hour and a half.

It’s only when the last of the Knights stands up to leave that he starts to think something might be wrong.

Kaeya still hasn’t ordered, and he hasn’t said so much as a goodbye to the knights, which implies that he’s here for some other reason—a loaded conversation with Diluc, maybe, or a proposition for the Darknight Hero’s involvement in some new ploy, neither of which Diluc wants to be discussing right now.

“That seat is for patrons only,” he says.

Kaeya’s eyes snap to his. He smirks. “Oh? Protective about the seating arrangements, are we?” “If you’re not here to drink,” Diluc says, “I’m sure you can find a better place to spend the night.”

“Fine, fine,” Kaeya says lightly. “One Death After Noon, please.”

He’s speaking more quietly than usual. There’s a dullness to his eyes, too, when Diluc looks back at him, blinking.

It’s… frustrating, to say the least. Kaeya is never entirely straightforward—he’s never as honest as he had been when they were both children, but he must be here for a reason, and he isn’t doing either of them any favors by not speaking up about it.

“What do you want from me?”

“Oh? What makes you think I want something from you?”

“You didn’t order anything until I asked,” Diluc says.

Kaeya smiles cryptically, resting his chin on one hand. “Maybe I just came here to unwind.”

“Nonsense. You haven’t spoken to anyone all night.”

“So you’ve been watching me?”

Diluc scoffs. “You are usually the most talkative customer here. I would have to have been exceptionally unobservant to not have noticed your silence.”

It’s not a secret that Kaeya isn’t here to see him. He’s here because it’s one of two taverns in Mondstadt, and because moreover, it’s a more popular spot for the Knights than the Cat’s Tail is, for days when he’s here more for conversation than for the drinks. Even when he’s here for strategic reasons, though—on nights when he’s enticing whoever he’s with to drink just enough to loosen their tongue—he always orders something for himself.

Tonight is an anomaly. But Kaeya doesn’t offer an explanation for it, and Diluc has never been one to press, so he occupies himself with procuring a bottle of white wine from the upper shelf.

Behind him, Kaeya coughs, but the sound is a little muffled. Diluc turns, instinctively, half expecting that Kaeya’s trying to direct his attention to something.

But Kaeya merely raises an eyebrow.  “Does my presence bother you so much?”

“No,” Diluc says. “If you are waiting for someone to show up...”

“I’m not.”

Diluc goes back to pretending that a drink he can make in his sleep is taking up all of his attention. Behind him, Kaeya sniffles—quietly enough that it almost goes unnoticed, except for the fact that the tavern’s empty except for the two of them, so late at night on a weekday.

At first, Diluc thinks—hopes—that he’s misheard. But then Kaeya sniffles again, loud enough to be confirmation, and then the silence suspends itself for a soft intake of breath.

Diluc thinks that if he grips the wine glass in his hands any tighter, it’s going to fracture. Is Kaeya… crying?

What could possibly warrant a reaction like this? Why here, of all places—so openly in front of Diluc, who he’s not supposed to trust? But before he can think more about it, there’s another sharp, desperate breath behind him, followed by—

“hihH’DXxt!” A pause, and then another gasp. Diluc whirls around, surprised, just in time to see Kaeya’s eyes flutter shut, as he pitches forward with none of his usual grace, roughly enough to jostle the cups on the countertop.

“hIH’ISCHHh-uu!”

It sounds rough, and... miserable, really, like it’s somehow both desperately necessary and barely relieving.

This is certainly… unexpected.

“...Bless you,” Diluc says hesitantly, if only to break the silence. Kaeya looks up at him, blinking distractedly.

“Thanks. You’ll have to excuse me,” he says—quieter than usual again, except now Diluc realizes it’s probably more out of necessity than anything—Kaeya’s voice is nearly shot, now that he’s paying attention.

Diluc turns back around—mercifully, perhaps—and tries to pay attention to the precise ratio of dandelion wine to white wine in the glass he’s holding.

It’s not long before Kaeya’s breath is hitching again.

“Hh… - hIiH! hHh - hH’ESHhh’uu!”

It’s so desperate and vocal. Kaeya lets out an exhausted sigh, reaching across the table to grab a handful of napkins. If he’s been doing this all day, it’s no wonder that he’s lost his voice.

“Are you getting sick?” Diluc says, though he suspects he knows the answer.

Kaeya laughs. “Why? Are you worried?”

“Only deciding whether I’ll have to wipe down the tables when you leave,” Diluc answers.

“Don’t worry. I assure you, you won’t catch this.”

“You are not doing a good job of convincing me of that.”

Kaeya hums, slumping further in his seat. He’s moved so that his chin’s resting on his hand again, but now it looks like less of a casual gesture. He just looks tired.

“I’ll be careful, I promise.”

It’s barely even a retort. Diluc stares at the half-finished drink in front of him. Then he pushes the cup aside so that it rests on the other side of the countertop, leaving the space in front of him clear. “You shouldn’t be drinking like this.”

Kaeya watches him warily, suppressing a shiver. “Thought the wine would warm me up.”

“You’re cold,” Diluc realizes.

By the way Kaeya’s eyebrows furrow in response, Diluc can tell he hadn’t meant to admit it so plainly. “I didn’t say that.”

Diluc ignores him again in favor of swiping a mug from the cupboards. Kaeya sniffles, sinking lower in his seat to rest his head on his forearms. Has he been so tired all afternoon? Diluc hadn’t expected that he’d do something like this—just sit here quietly all afternoon, waiting for someone to notice. Diluc can count the number of times Kaeya’s fallen ill on two hands, with room to spare. Back when they’d been close he’d sought Diluc’s presence whenever he fell ill, but it’s been years since then, and Kaeya is exceptionally popular—Diluc is sure anyone in Mondstadt would be happy to keep him company. This isn’t the same.  

Kaeya’s eyes are lightly shut when Diluc sets the mug in front of him finally, still steaming. Diluc considers tapping him on the shoulder—or checking his forehead, or something—and then decides against it. “Apple cider,” he says, instead. “Don’t burn yourself, it’s hot.”

Kaeya opens his eyes, sits up. Diluc pushes the mug towards him, and his fingers curl around the sides. He shivers again, lifts the mug with both hands, and takes a tentative sip.

“Adelinde says it’s good for your throat,” Diluc says, unsure of what else to add. “Or… it’s what she always tells me, in the winter.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Kaeya murmurs. He coughs into a fist, his shoulders trembling with the effort. “It’s good. Was I asleep long?

“The tavern closes in twenty.”

“Is that so?” He sniffles, his eyes watering as he sets the mug down hurriedly, ducking into his elbow. “Hh— hIIH’ESCHhuu! hH!… snf, sorry to keep you, then.”

He says it without a trace of sarcasm, which feels… unfitting, if anything. Whatever Kaeya does, he does it unapologetically.

Diluc regards him for a moment. “It’s my shift. I’d be here anyway.”

“You’d be closing up if not for me,” Kaeya says, which isn’t untrue. “I’ve been here long enough.”

The why goes unaddressed. Diluc isn’t sure why Kaeya’s here—Kaeya is unpredictable, but he’s also deliberate. Diluc doesn’t believe he’d be here for no reason—the tavern is warm enough, and crowded enough in the evenings to be pleasantly distracting, but that’s about where the benefits end. Kaeya—where’s he’s hunched over the counter, exhausted and shivering—looks like he’d be more comfortable anywhere else.

“Are the Knights aware that they’re assigning you too much work?”

Kaeya averts his glance. “It’s nothing like that.”

“When is the last time you’ve slept?”

This time, he smiles, raising an eyebrow. “Concerned?”

It’s an accusation that Diluc would normally dispute. Now, he settles for crossing his arms. “You’re exhausted.”

“I don’t see why that’s relevant... hh — hH-ESHhh-uu! We’ve had more domains than ever to cover, is all. Nothing out of the ordinary, but you’ll understand why I couldn’t... ” Kaeya stifles a yawn which he half-hides, embarrassed, behind one hand. “I couldn’t afford to take time off even if I wanted to…” His eyelashes flutter shut, his shoulders tensing up in trepidation as he gasps, jerking forward. “Hh! hiIIH... hiih... hh—IIISHHh’uu! hiihh’iIhTSSHHew!”

Sheepishly, Kaeya lifts the drink to his face, carefully enough that Diluc almost misses the wince when he swallows. Almost. His throat must be sore sore; it explains why he hasn’t been talking much.

“If Jean had a good look at you, I’m sure she’d send you home,” Diluc says. The look on Kaeya’s face, in response to that, is telling enough. “You’ve been avoiding her, then.”

“Jean has enough on her plate already.”

“So you have no reservations about lying to the Acting Grandmaster.”

Kaeya shrugs. “I didn’t lie to her. I simply neglected to inform her that I was unwell.” He trails off, blinking dazedly. “Hhih… hIIH’EZCHHuu! Snf… HIHH’IZCHh-uu!” Sevens above. Even his sneezes sound wrung-out, as if they’re using up the last reserves of the voice he’s about to lose.

Kaeya sighs, reaching for the bar napkins. “On second thought...” He swallows again, eyebrows drawing tighter. “Maybe wiping down the tables would be a good idea after all.”

“I was planning to, anyway,” Diluc says. Kaeya has always been dramatic. But if this is all some ridiculous ploy to get him to worry, it’s working. “It would be bad for business if you managed to infect all of my patrons.” Kaeya huffs a quiet laugh, which immediately turns into a particularly harsh coughing fit.

“Is it helping?” Diluc asks.

“What?” Kaeya’s voice breaks on the syllable, and Diluc falters.

“The drink. With your sore throat.”

“It’s working wonders,” Kaeya says, almost convincingly nonchalant, if not for the quietness with which it’s delivered. “I’m sure that by tomorrow, I’ll be good as new.”

He can’t seriously believe that. “Don’t tell me you actually intend on going to work.”

Kaeya tilts his head in question. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m feeling much better now.”

“You’re not.”

The smile on his face falters, gives way for something a little more honest. “You’re right,” Kaeya admits, after a pause. “I’m not. But it’s fine, you know. It’s just a cold. You don’t have to—” He stops again to cough, his shoulders shaking. “—be so worried.”

“Archons,” Diluc snaps. “I know. Stop talking.”

Kaeya opens his mouth—probably to protest, but Diluc cuts him off before he can speak.

“You’re losing your voice,” he points out, by way of explanation. “If you keep pushing yourself, you’ll postpone your recovery for days. How do you think Jean would like it if you ended up bedridden?”

There’s no response to that.

“If it is customary for a captain to work through illness, it’s no wonder that the Knights are always so terribly inefficient.”

Kaeya’s breath hitches, and he ducks voicelessly into his elbow, his eyelids fluttering shut. There’s a beat, and then—

“hHH’DSCHhh!”

...there’s that, too. Diluc crosses his arms. “Not to mention, if you are contagious...”

“I’m very careful,” Kaeya whispers, which is an irritating workaround to Diluc’s rule. But it doesn’t seem like it hurts his voice—what’s left of it, at least—so Diluc lets it slide. “You underestimate my abilities. It’s just—”

“A cold. I’m aware.” He turns aside, moving to pour the half-made Death After Noon into the sink. Kaeya, if anything, is a good liar. Even if Diluc somehow gets him to promise he won’t push himself too hard, Diluc doubts he’ll take it seriously.

It was easier, he thinks, when he’d been away for those three years, too distant and too caught up in Fatui affairs to care about Kaeya’s destructively selfish tendencies. Now they’re distant, less than acquaintances, but he sees Kaeya everywhere, and on days like this it feels almost cruel. It’s like they have some sort of mutual agreement to play strangers. Like caring too much would be overstepping.

“Just… don’t get worse,” he says resignedly. For once, Kaeya is silent behind him. When Diluc turns around to take his cup from him, Kaeya’s expression is unreadable.

“I’ll try my best,” Kaeya says, uncharacteristically sincere. Diluc really wants to believe him.

[internalsealpanic]

Lesson Learned

summary: Pinning exercises are a lot easier when you ask nicely.

a/n: The backstory to this piece was that I went to the church part of our discord server and told people about me being thirsty about Slade and they collectively went: DO HIM. The reader does have a backstory which boils down to rich girl from a crime family is a little shit because I thought this would have a funny dynamic with Slade.  Special thanks to @batarella and @knightfall05x for proof reading and giving me ideas. Would this count as my one entry for kinktober? 

warnings:  This is straight up smut. Please read responsibly. Brat taming, strength kink, daddy kink, orgasm denial, and hinted size kink. (Hilariously half of these were by complete accident.) There is some injury mentioned but not too graphically. Both characters are assholes.   

masterlist

Slade was on the ground, his head was swimming even as the sharp shriek of sirens rang loud in his ears. His senses were at once too sharp and too unfocused. Whatever drug he'd been hit with had to have targeted the nerves in his muscles too. He couldn't move. Not substantially anyway. Not in a way that would actually help him.  Through the haze he hears the clicking of heels against the floor, then a sharp pain shoots through him when said heel dug into one of his still closing bullet wounds. 

 You stood above him, your shark's smile hidden behind your mask.  "Well old man, I didn't think you would be caught this easy. I might need to rethink this meeting." You hummed tapping your chin as you lean down your heel digging further into his flesh. It's a tactic your sister had taught you. People were less inclined to think clearly when in excruciating pain.  If Deathstroke was this easy to capture, was he really worth your money? 

 He was watching you, blue eyes looking defiant. You whistled low. You liked a hard negotiation. It kept things more interesting. The rapid footsteps of men drew you out of your contemplation much to your annoyance. You debated on just paying them to go away. It would make your life easier but there's a chance these men were truly loyal to the man you had just paid a visit to.

 You weigh your options. His reputation may be enough to keep your siblings away. Maybe just long enough 'til their petty little war is over. "I'm going to hire you-"

 "-this assumes I'm going to say yes"

 You snorted. He noted the confident roll in your shoulders, the kind of cocky self-assured gesture of someone who knows they're going to win.  Every movement, every angling of your form deliberately used to show a difference in power and lack of respect. In short, it made you very punchable.

 "Your statement assumes you have a choice." You chuckled tilting your head to the side in challenge. He scowled at you and you try to keep the sheer delight you feel out of your body language. You weren't sadistic by any means but for one, brutality was practically bred into you, and two, you are, what your darling eldest brother had so kindly put, a  little bitch.  "I'll tell you why you'll say yes to my proposal." You said stepping off of him and pirouetting towards your duffle bag. "One, I'm offering your more than a million dollars in cash for the simple job of training me-" You observed his face as it remains carefully impassive. You expected as much. You heft your bag into your arms and unzip it rummaging through the cache of weapons you had stored just in case plan A through F failed you. "Unless we're associated, I'm the only one walking out of here with any money for their troubles." You said tossing the severed head of his target in front of him. You gave him an all too pleased grin. 

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 You find yourself pinned down again in the span of 15 minutes, face squished against the training mat, your arms pinned behind you, and most annoyingly your ass raised while your bastard of an instructor laughs in your ear, his lips dangerously close to your ear. You hiss and bristle feeling the fibers in your muscles burn from the uncomfortable angle they've been forced into.  You squirm trying to buck him off but his strength rendered your efforts moot. His enhanced strength keeps your body firmly between the sweat-covered mat and his large, toned body which just made you bite your lip to keep anything vulgar from escaping you. 

 You were 110% sure he was fucking with you at this point but any smart remark you had was either smothered by the mat or died whenever you felt acutely aware of your skin against his.  

 "Get off of me, old man," You snarl, making a futile attempt to kick him off with one of your legs. He chuckles at your weak attempts, the reverberations from his chest pressing against your back sending a thrum of excitement rolling over you concentrating into more distracting areas. You can't see it but you know he's grinning smugly above you and you can't decide whether it's your horniness or your anger that will win out. You sincerely hope it's the latter. 

 "C'mon, kid, you can get out of this," He encourages but you don't miss the playful mockery dancing in his tone. You squirm and wriggle and sigh. "Just let me out," You demand, politely. He doesn't budge. You turn your head to pout petulantly at him. That doesn't do anything either. 

 You sigh again. You hated pinning exercises with a carefully cultivated passion which you would normally direct at whatever instructor was dumb enough to force it upon you. However, that wasn't really possible as of this moment. One of the reasons for this hatred was that you were never pinned down unless you wanted to be, even then they were usually too hesitant to follow through so you never really saw any practical use for the skill. That is until last week when you found yourself being pinned down by the Red Hood which was honestly a fantastic position if you weren't trying to get away from him. Apparently, the large man didn't take too kindly to being shot at even when your very professional self explained that you were in fact a decoy. After you were entirely unable to slip his hold, you begrudgingly agreed to let Slade teach you a few maneuvers. The other reason was that you liked being pinned down. Your body is far too enthusiastic about the feeling of being pinned down. You're pretty sure you've expended more energy into suppressing your thrilled shivers than you have trying to get out of any of the holds he's demonstrated so far.  The fact that he was an attractive asshole with no shirt did not help.    

 "Maybe if you ask nicely, princess" He drawls his teeth grazing your ear, beard bristling against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You bite back a groan and stop the cant of your hips. "Or are you even capable of that?"

 "I am, sir" You grind out but it sounds too breathy to be threatening. You feel the curve of his lips against your shoulder.

 "Dunno, brat, I've never seen you do it," He taunts pressing closer to you. You're suddenly aware of just how close you two are. You hate how the way he called you brat sent thrills up your spine. You try to even your breath but you're entirely too feverish both body and mind. You had to think of something before you were lost in a haze.

 You nudge your arm one last time before an idea strikes. A familiar shark-like grin spreads like wildfire across your features. Pressing your ass against his crotch, you roll your hips, the movement slow and deliberate and painfully tempting. Sure, it was a dirty trick but 1) he never said anything about using your assets 2) you've been wanting to do that since the first hold. You feel his muscles tense and you can't help but radiate smugness.  Your smile vanishes, however, when he rolls his hips against yours giving you a feel of his hardened length through the thin fabric of your gym shorts. The slow, tantalizing friction against your core draws out a vulgar moan from you. 

 "Do you wanna run that by me again, brat?" He whispers low and husky emphasizing the last word with another grind of his hip. You pant, hips answering back with their own desperate movement. You want to let your hips keep moving, to make him move, to feel his cock against your core but pride flared in your chest. "Make me." You bite out. "I really should teach you some manners."You feel the low rumble of his answer in response seemingly amused by your continued resistance. He rocks his hips against yours drawing out another breathy moan from you. Out of spite you bite your bottom lip and rock your hips in tandem with his. What did you hope to accomplish from this? You don't know but it certainly felt good. Your skin feels hot and oversensitive as your bodies continue to move at this rhythm. The feel of his muscles rippling against you makes you arch your back. You wanted more but you had too much pride. As if spurred on by the movement, he presses a kiss on your shoulder and sucks at your flesh, a rough hand grips your waist tight enough to bruise. "Slade!" You choke out losing your composure.  The cry sounds more like a plea than you would like. You sound so small and needy beneath his ministrations. 

 Distilling your anger into your weakening limbs you try to buck him off again. You make a small noise of triumph when he budges but whine when his grip on you just gets tighter. "Not quite, princess,"  

 He flips you onto your back. A hand pins both your arms above your head as he situates himself between your legs. His lips capture yours in a rough kiss, the type where you feel two bodies fighting each other for dominance. His teeth bite lightly against your bottom lip asking for entrance. You open your lips less in concession and more of a challenge. The wet muscles of your tongues entangle. Your nose is filled with the musk of him. It was overwhelming. You moan into the kiss and you feel him smile into it. Another small victory. 

 Slade ends the kiss having undeniably won the match. You try to move your hand to punch the grin off his face but again your hands don't budge. You curse his enhanced strength halfheartedly as the feeling of the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach takes over. Instead of diving back in for another kiss as you expected, Slade trails kisses down your jawline, your throat, and your collar bone leaving very defined very visible hickeys. There was something oddly possessive in his actions.  The look in his eye was predatory. 

 You, foolishly, let your attention wander to your hands seeing what angle you could possibly force them into so you can slip his grip and maybe turn the tables. Your attention snaps back to him when the pressure around your chest loosens and the distinct sound of a zipper fills your ears. Your eyes widen as you watch as he unzips the front of your sports bra with his teeth. Your breath catches even as your chest fills with the lack of constriction. Your too hot skin is grazed by the training room's cold air. He places a kiss in the valley between your breasts but when you whimper and move slightly urging him to proceed. He moves on to your stomach. "Asshat" You seethe through gritted teeth. You let out a groan of frustration. You were going to kill him. You honestly don't care if you've just wasted half a billion dollars on this asshole. 

 His kisses drift down to your inner thigh drawing a moan from you. Slade chuckles seeing your desire seeping through the thin fabric of your shorts. He isn't entirely surprised considering how unsubtle you are about your interest. A rare moment of embarrassment blankets you. Your legs try to close but rough hands pry them apart placing them on his broad shoulders. You bite your lip when he plants a kiss on your inner thigh. Your lips are puffy and red at this point, looking delicious as you panted. Slade wonders how your lips would feel around his cock but he decides he'll save that for another time. He hooks his fingers on the waistband of your shorts and his eye widens momentarily when he doesn't feel a second layer of fabric underneath it. He looks at you incredulously.

 You shrug trying to keep the mischief off your face looking absolutely unapologetic. "It's laundry day-" You shrug a little amused that this is the detail that caught him off guard. "-I did tell you I had stuff to do~"He also supposedly had stuff to do but, apparently, you were stuff. He chuckled and without dignifying your comment with an actual response, he rips your shorts off with ease and tosses them somewhere behind him.  A complaint or a threat, you weren't entirely sure, died on your lips when his tongue gave your core a nice long lick. A loud, needy keen escapes you. Your hands now free from his grasp dig into his scalp.  Pleased with your reaction he continues. His skilled tongue exploring your core hitting spots you didn't even know were there. Your hips meet to match his pace as he fucks you with his tongue. You whine when he withdraws his tongue but mewl loud and wanton when you feel two rough fingers stretching your insides. His mouth latches onto your sensitive bud, fingers pumping in and out.  You throw your head back not being able to contain your moans.

 "Look at me, brat," The command is deep and resonant. Your whole body buzzes with excitement. Slade can see your eyes dilate as his voice drops an octave. 

 "Yes," Your breath hitches when he doesn't move. "Sir" You add as a concession hoping it was enough. You felt your pride waning from the small piece of power being given away. Thankfully, he rewards you with another long lick before you can dwell on it. Slade watches as your face twists in pleasure trying your best not to throw your head back. You see the smugness on his face even when half of his face is buried between your legs. You don't attempt a threat simply because you don't trust whatever comes out of your mouth to be coherent. You were so close. You rock your hips trying to chase your high. Your skin is flush and glistening with sweat. You were so close. He feels your walls tightening around his fingers. Another needy keen escapes you as you were about to tip over the edge. 

 The motherfucker pulls back. You snarl at him but it comes out sounding more like a needy croon than anything else. He chuckles at you even as he captures your lips for another kiss. His tongue is thick with the taste of you. Your hand tangles itself into his hair while the other tugs at the waistband of his sweatpants.  He pulls away giving your lips one last nip before his body is off of you. It's funny how just moments ago you wanted him off of you badly enough that you'd play any dirty trick you could think of but now your skin is burning for his touch.  He takes off his sweat pants and his engorged cock slaps against his abs. It takes every brain cell at your disposal not to drool at the sight of it. He was BIG. You wonder briefly if he would even fit.  

 He spits on his cock rubbing his head against your thoroughly soaked folds. You mewl. A playful look in his eye does not go unnoticed but you were far too preoccupied with other concerns. Thankfully, so did he. Slade eases into your pussy in slow shallow thrusts. You can physically feel your walls stretching inch by inch as he works his way into your tight pussy. He can feel every bit of resistance your pussy is putting up. It's his turn to hiss when he finally bottoms out. Your walls cling to his member trying to milk it for all its worth. You drag your nails down from his shoulder to his arms. You pout when his skin heals immediately. You wanted to mark him as he did you but apparently, his healing factor was not up to being kinky today.   

 He laughs at your little protest and gives you a quick kiss. He begins to thrust shallow and languid. Your lips are locked in, sensually nibbling at each other's lips. You arch your back pressing your chest against his musculature savoring every bit of stimulation you could get.   You cant your hips against his urging him to go faster. His large hand grips your hips and pins them down. The coil in your stomach grows tighter at the ease at which he stops you. You feel him grin against your hot skin. 

 "Didn't I say I would teach you some manners?" He pulls himself out leaving you feeling hollow and wanting. You're pretty sure if you weren't drunk on your arousal the look in your eyes would be nothing short of murder, however, this was not the case, Whatever venom you had in you vanished in a swirl of neediness that racked your body. Your cant your hips uselessly trying to find friction only to be met with cool air. 

 "Slade pleeeeaaase!"

 You gasp, as a sharp stinging sensation on your pussy knocks the breath out of you. Slade gives you an expectant look. 

 "Sir, plea-"

 Another slap. Your back arches.  You’re panting heavy, mind swirling and searching. 

 "Daddy please!" The words tumble from your lips thoughtlessly. You both freeze. Slade's face is unreadable making you want to shrink away and let the earth swallow you whole. Panic rises in your chest until you feel his hips slam against yours. The force is enough to knock the breath out of you. He manhandles your body to fuck you at a better angle. His grip on your thighs tight and bruising. You whimper when he dips his head down near yours pressing kisses to your jaw and the pulsating flesh of your neck leaving your mouth free to moan his name like a mantra.   A deep resonant growl rumbles in his chest sending thrills through your skin into your spine. Your hardened nipples drag against his chest as they bounce with his pace. His cock pumps in and out of you at an animalistic pace. You were absolutely going mad over his rough pace but it wasn't enough to push you over. You were both so close.

 "Daddy, please! I- I need-" Slade's cock twitches. His pace goes from animalistic to punishing in the space of a heartbeat. He growls into your ear as he reaches down to rub your clit with skilled, calloused fingers. Your walls tighten around him as you go over the edge.  Your orgasm hits you in a flurry of heat and electricity. He fucks you through it as he chases his own. He pulls out his cock. Ropes of cum covering your chest and your stomach. 

 He lays beside you pulling you close. You moan quietly still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, planting an open-mouthed kiss. You ease into his hold and close your eyes. 

 "See how easy your life is when you're a good girl, princess," He whispers mockingly into your ear. You raise a middle finger at him too fucked out to care whether it actually conveyed as much venom as you wanted it to. 

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Thanks for reading! Next week will be our regularly scheduled fluff unless I get possessed by the thirst muses. 

tag list:  Tag list:  @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes ,  @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-horizondepeu , @arestorationofbalance  , @cloudie-skay , @knightfall05x

[vaire-gwir]

I’ve run out of my words

Post-mountain incident, Jaskier is a heart broken mess. The last thing he needs is an unexpected visit from Geralt. 

I have accepted that it’s never going to be the same amount of words as I Find you all Unwoven, cause I re-wrote this three times and it just doesn’t happen.

Again, I was sad, that’s my excuse. English is not my first language, hope it doesn’t terribly suck! 

***

It hurt a great deal when Jaskier sold his lute. He was attached to it for more than just sentimental reasons. Sometimes he felt like his life truly started the day he got that lute.

He was used to pain by now though, pain was just another thing creeping under the surface, it came and went in waves like the ocean, sometimes threatening to overwhelm him with memories and sometimes resting among the broken pieces of his heart, hissing like a snake waiting to strike.

It was always there, he just perceived it in different ways: some days it was like being on the edge of an empty abyss of nothingness, about to fall but never really tipping over, just going through the motion. Other times, there were the long nights when sleep refused to visit him and he'd get this urge under his skin, to move, to do something, anything to not feel trapped in his own flesh, caged by his own mind.

He tried to fight insomnia with the ink, but he proved a terrible fighter. He couldn't write anything anymore. When he tried to play, his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, and he'd get even the simplest of melody wrong, resulting in endless frustration that kept him up until dawn.

As much as he tried to outrun his ghost, he always ended up running right into it, and if he managed to keep his waking hours relatively Geralt-free, the dreams were always there. His journals paid the price of waking up for the hundredth time, after a nightmare that leaves him choking and incapable to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

He thought he'd feel relieved after watching it crackle and burn to ashes, as if destroying the evidence of his time with the Witcher could also destroy the heartache that came with it, but it doesn't work like that. Nothing he ever does stops him from being hollow.

Jaskier walks around the Academy like a shadow, trying to keep himself busy between lessons or at least trying to keep Geralt out of his thoughts. This simple task proved to be more complicated than he anticipated. He doesn't want to be here, he's not made for teaching and his students get on his nerves all the time. To be fair, most things get on his nerves since the mountain incident, but he doesn't have many options.

Sure, he could go home to his family, beg their forgiveness and implore his father to allow him back into court. That sounded as promising as jumping off a bridge.

Compared to that, even the room Madame M. offered him at the brothel looked like a golden palace. At least he had some talent for sex, he managed to convince even a Witcher to sleep with him, that hadn't been easy.

Jaskier stirs his mind in a safer direction, cause thinking about those nights will not do him any good. He still blames and curses himself for coming up with that stupid arrangement, cause why not Geralt, I'm here all the time, and I'm obviously very willing, besides you don't have to pay me, looks like a win-win situation to me. Looks like you're a special kind of idiot, Jaskier, that's what you are. Why did Geralt even accept anyway?

Jaskier blinks the memories away and focuses on trying to have lunch, cause that's what sane, normal people do. He's still struggling with normal though.

His plan flew out of the window when someone started to sing. Jaskier froze in his spot when he recognized the song. He wrote that. He should be pleased to hear it, but it's not pride he feels when he glances in the direction of the curly-haired boy in green velvet.

He will never play or sing another song again, and people will forget him sooner than Geralt did. The folks in this tavern don't know him, they don't know he wrote those lyrics to distract himself the first night Geralt didn't come back from a hunt and he feared for him every second of that dreadful night.

He spent hours cursing the Gods for making him so useless and prayed to them in the same breath, begging for their mercy. He felt stupid later, when Geralt showed up at dawn saying it took him longer than expected to break a curse. Jaskier told the Witcher how scared he had been and Geralt dismissed him as the fool he was.

He's scared of being forgotten, of being meaningless and unimportant. No one is going to remember Jaskier, the bard that traveled the continent with the White Wolf and shared his adventures.

He left Jaskier on top of that mountain, he's just Julian now, just a teacher, just another idiot that got his heart broken. Geralt left him like everyone else. That's what people do, they just leave and move on with their lives. So why couldn't he move on too?

There's a small shift in the air, and while he tries to regain control of his thoughts, for some unknown reason, destiny, the universe, life or the Gods, make him turn his head toward the entrance.

There is no mistaking the white hair he sees, or the dark armour. Jaskier knows he has to leave before Geralt sees him. The sole idea of Geralt being here is enough to leave him shaking.

What are the chances of meeting the Witcher outside Oxenfurt? There were no contracts in town, why was fate trying his best to mess with his life today, was the song not enough? He feels like his head is swimming and he knows he doesn't have time to panic cause his heart beats so loudly he fears Geralt will spot it in a second.

He puts some coins in the maid's hand and stumbles out of the place.  

He can't face him. Not today. Probably not ever, cause he can't imagine he'll ever be ready to face the one that broke his heart without holding any anger or resentment towards him. Why must he feel like this, Geralt never cared for him, so why is he still drowning in his feelings for the idiot?

Jaskier is a poet, he should know a thing or two about heartache. He should also know that he's out of luck today.

"Why did you follow me, Witcher?" Jaskier feels his presence a few paces behind him, still so painfully familiar to him even after all these months.

"How did you know..." There's a puzzled expression on Geralt's face. Jaskier knows he's not prepared for this.

It takes him a second to realize that no matter how angry he is at the Witcher, how deep his sorrow runs and how broken his heart is, a small part of him is almost glad to see him. It's the same small part that decided to talk to a stranger and follow him on a dangerous journey, the one that figured out first that what he was feeling was more than a crush, and that accepted every scrap of affection Geralt showed him like he was being handed the world on a silver plate.

Geralt is exactly how he remembers him, and his betrayer heart jumps in his chest when their eyes meet.

"I saw you at the tavern. I spent so long searching for your face in every crowd I started to think I was seeing things, but apparently I was right this time." I love you, I'd recognize your steps everywhere, the cracking of the leather in your gloves and the click of the metal of that buckle in your armor you always forget to fix after a hunt, I know them as if they were my own. I love you, and you broke my heart. That's what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat, they're no use now.

"I... You were not singing." Jaskier knows it's not surprise he sees on Geralt's face when he answers "I don't do that anymore." but he can't figure out what it is.

It hurt when he realized he couldn't bring himself to sing or play anymore, it left him feeling even emptier than before, cause he always thought he'd have his music to console him, to defend him from the things life was throwing at him, to build a wall around himself and protect whatever was left of him. How wrong he was.

"Why not?" Jaskier wishes he could explain that when they parted on top of the mountain, when he forced himself to say "See you around Geralt" knowing he'll never see him again, when he tried to process those heavy words that rolled off the Witcher's tongue, his love for music, for poetry, for life, rolled off too and hid somewhere he couldn't reach anymore. But Geralt never cared for his music.

"Don't act like you care. I'm not the same person I was ten months ago. Besides, you hate my singing, you can barely stand my voice, what difference does it make to you?" Keeping his tone even and preventing his voice from breaking is hard, harder than any performance he ever had to do. Ten months ago feel like a lifetime away now, it doesn't even seem real. The ache in his chest is always there to remind him that it is.

"That's not true." Jaskier sees how he clenches his hands as if those words meant a great effort for him. The Gods know how many times he looked into Geralt's eyes after singing, desperately seeking his approval and finding only a mild annoyance, like this was just another thing he had to endure.

"It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling. There's a word for that, in case you didn't know, and it's called disappointment. Now, why did you follow me out here? I don't think it was to tell me you suddenly like my voice cause we both know you don't and honestly, bit late for that, don't you think?" Jaskier wants to be annoyed, he should be furious for what Geralt did to him, for leaving him like he meant nothing, but these days being mad is a lot of effort. He doesn't have it in him anymore, it's easier to let go of the anger. It doesn't make him feel less empty or less broken anyway.

"I just thought...we could maybe....talk?" Jaskier laughs bitterly.

"Really Geralt? That's rich coming from you. Now you want to talk? You know what, no. No, you don't get to come here and tell me you want to talk after I spent ten gods forsaken months trying to forget you. Don't you fucking dare. Not like this. Now if there's something I can help you with, do say so. If not, spare us both this conversation, I'm not sure I'm in the mood to have my heart broken again." Jaskier is not even sure there is something left to break.

He'll never admit it but deep down he knows there's no forgetting Geralt. And he curses that small part of him that wants to listen to him, to let him talk and explain, cause he knows that he'd go back to traveling with the Witcher right this second if he so much as says he'd take him back. Stupid, stupid Jaskier. A Witcher apologizing, as if.

"I'll leave you to your things then. Goodbye, Jaskier."  Saying goodbye, even knowing that it's for the best, doesn't make it any less painful.

"You were right." Geralt looks at him in a way he has never seen before, for a second he thinks it's hurt that he sees flickering in those golden eyes, but it lasts a second. He should know Geralt doesn't care about him enough to be hurt by something he says or does.

"You spent so much time trying to convince me to leave you alone and stop following you around and I never fucking listened. I realized you were right. Cause you, you got what you wanted, life, destiny, whatever, you had your sorceress and I'm finally off your hands. But what about me? That is why I wish...I wish I would have listened to you. Left. Before it was too late. Before having my heart broken."

His voice breaks at the end, he feels the tears stinging his eyes and he turns to walk away before Geralt notices it. Pain comes in waves, and today he's drowning.

[aliaslua]

Right to live

Chapter 02 of my on going series: In broad daylight

Chapter summary: Michelangelo has a productive therapy session after his interview. April and Casey announce their wedding and in a jealousy crisis, Donatello has his first one-night-stand. Warning: This chapter contain light smut (mature, not explicit) if you're a minor please DON'T INTERACT. TW: Trauma mention (nothing too graphic or descriptive, but it does contain a short account of a panic attack).

Michelangelo started therapy after his first panic attack.

It was - maybe - the worst night of his life. At that point in time he didn’t even knew what a trigger was - and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to identify or anticipate his reaction. If felt like he was dying in a literal, visceral sense. It was like having a bomb growing inside his shell, the beating counting down to a heart attack, he felt his lips cold, his head heavy and the touch of Donatello’s hand in his shoulders felt cold against his skin for the first time in his life. He could still remembers his brothers calling to him and his inhuman effort to look them in the eyes, just as he gazed into the house he grew up in and didn’t recognize the color of the new floor tiles.

The rest was a blur.

Dr. Miller was April’s last effort to persuade Leo and Raph that Mikey needed professional counseling. At this point, Mikey didn't have enough will to have a strong opinion on his treatment, he didn't have the will to do anything, really. All his days were spent sleeping by day and having terrible night anxiety, followed by an earth-shattering cry until morning, when he went back to sleep.  Despite their best effort to care for and protect the younger sibling, all of his brothers knew that he had become impossible to handle - and more important than that, his emotional and physical dependency got so intense that it was perfectly clear that there was nothing they could do: Michelangelo need help, professional help.

On the first day they entered Dr. Miller’s office, April had reassured everybody she had send the therapist recent photos of Mikey and explained all his possible triggers in detail. The clinic would open two hours early so that they could have privacy and that this first encounter would include Mikey, his brothers and Sara Miller only.

Mikey was so nervous he felt like this situation alone would end up triggering his next attack: his hands were sweaty, his chest heavy and the feeling in his stomach made him realize that maybe he would throw up all those recent pizza slices. When the door to her office opened, he felt an immediate relief upon looking at her.

Sara (as he would start calling her later) was a 67 years old black woman, wearing a knitted cardigan and a puffy ponytail. She looked at him with eyes free from any king of judgment: any kind of feeling at all, actually, it was very… neutral. After gazing at him and his brothers she had smiled lightly and then calmly said:

"Good morning. I am Dr. Miller. Are you Michelangelo?" Mikey just nodded " Welcome. Please, come in.”

So he did, on that Monday morning and all the next yet to come, for two years straight.

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

“Did you see the interview?” Mikey asked just as he entered her office, not even worrying about greeting Sara.

“Yes I did.” She answered with the same peaceful deep voice, unbothered by the absence of a greet “You looked very handsome.”

“I sure did!” The mutant turtle seated at the large red sofa, his body melting in the comfortable cushions, he grabbed one of the small pillows behind him and held it tight against his chest “Ugh! It was so fun!”

Sara smiled. She always gave him a kind of smile that made Mikey feel like she was the perfect embodiment of a fairytale grandma and for the first time, Michelangelo actually considered she might actually be someone else’s grandmother.

“I am glad to hear that. Did you do the exercises he practiced?”

Mikey hummed “It helped. But what really made all difference was that Leo was there. And April. Oh, April is getting married!” He announced “She and Casey told us about the engagement just after we all saw the interview air. It was a great night.” He stopped for a minute and laid his head against the couch, focusing on the abstract painting that always caught his attention since the first day he sat there, he knew his voice let out a sadness he was trying to hide. He didn’t need to pretend there.

“It was… Weird, I guess… Like, I should be happy for them, right? Casey is a nice man, he treats her right, they already have a life together, an apartment with a huge TV and an aquarium… I can’t argue with that, right? Right?” Sara didn’t answer, Michelangelo laid his head completely on the couch, staring at the sealing “She was my first love…. Or something like it. I feel so attached to her and…” He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, trying to measure all the feelings filling his chest “...I think I… Should I feel happy for her? Because I felt… Huh, I felt betrayed.”

“Do you feel resentment?” Dr. Miller finally asked, gazing calmly at him.

“Yeah, I guess… I didn’t know what I expected... and I don’t want to marry April. Not anymore, I mean. She is like a sister to me. No! It’s more than that… She’s like… I- It just.. it was all so fast! Everything is so fast right now, and she decided to announce just as the interview ended and I felt so… I felt so overshadowed!”

“You felt it was your night.”

“It WAS my night. And I don’t mean to sound selfish, you know? I just… Wished they had waited.”

Sara looked at her patient making a conscious effort to avoid giving away her own feelings, the enormous man in front her had a gloomy expression and tired eyes.

“Mikey, is not the first time you mention feeling like this.”

“Like what?”

“ Overshadowed .” She quoted him.

“Yeah… I guess it's something I’ve been feeling for a while.”

“You mentioned once that you felt… Smushed, is the word you used.”

“Yeah. Smushed between my brothers.”

“Hmm” Sara nodded “What about that?”

“Well, you know about that… They are all special in their own way. Leo is the leader, Raph is the muscle, Donnie is the genius, I am the… Comic relief?”

“You sound like you are all characters of a cartoon.”

“We look like it!” Mikey said, humorous. Sara did her best  to contain a tiny smile that formed in her cheeks.

“Well, you are your own person, Mikey. You don’t have to fulfill an imaginary role you fantasized for yourself.”

“Yeah I feel like you’re always telling me that.” He sighed “What this has to do with April?”

“You were telling me about her engagement…”

“Yeah. It was crazy… I mean, me, Leo and Raph kept it together but Donnie just… Bolted.” A nervous laugh escaped him “She told the news and he just… Left. I guess it was too much for him. You know, April was the only person we knew for so long… It was only natural to fall for her, right? She’s so nice, kind, and after the expected first meeting shock she treated us with… Dignity is the world Master Splinter likes to use... But then we all grew out of it.”

A long silence followed before he complemented:

“I guess Donnie didn’t”

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

Donatello felt his feet too tight against the leather shoe and considered for the third time on that evening that maybe this was a terrible idea.

Ignoring his own better judgement, he knocked.

Alicia Ellis awakened in him two utterly contradictory and madding feelings: disgust and lust.

Many times he had tried - and succeeded- at disguising the amount of attention he paid to her body, especially since the context they first met didn’t allowed for flirtatious endeavors and despite knowing his physical body was searching it’s hormonal peak, Donatello proud himself on being utterly respectful: an effort that he felt he was making alone. Ellis never even tried to hide her indiscreet wants, playing with their encounters just enough to not be considered harassment, but clear enough to not allow ambiguity. Was that even possible? Donnie asked himself. Did it even matter now?

He felt disgusted mostly towards himself, actually, knowing full well why he had come to her apartment after that eventful night, just as the women he thought he could win over announced her engagement to the man he honestly felt he could one day surpass - pathetic, he beat himself again, cringing at the mere fact he once imagined a possible future for them, together. What a pathetic, emotional, delusional monster you are, dreaming about the pretty girl that once held your hand… And now you surrender to your most selfish desire, luring this woman who will be stupid enough to let you in.

This is going to ruin you. Was the last thing he thought before she opened the door.

She was astonishingly beautiful, with her thick luxurious wavy hair and round plump figure, pressed against a tight outfit he didn’t have enough interest to notice in detail.

“Took you long enough.” She said in a malicious tone, grabbing him by his belt. The apartment was warm, had a delicious floral smell and it was lit in subtle yellow light that mimicked candles. It was sexy, inviting and terribly scary, just like her.

This is going to ruin me . The feeling echoed towards Donnie as he willfully closed the door behind him.

It wasn’t hard for him to understand why a woman like her would take interest in being with a man like him, the internet had allowed Donnie to have a very indiscreet access to the human world - especially since people seemed really comfortable in sharing online things they wouldn’t even tell a best friend - and he knew way before they even came out to the surface that most probably wouldn’t be difficult to find someone willing to share a bed with him. Alicia was just a part of a very niche - yet not so small as one may think - group.

The thought brought him a small relief and a strike of courage that he much needed at that moment.

“I didn’t think you would come.” She said, bringing two glasses of a clear-yellow liquid. What an inappropriate move to bring a glass of white wine to a young adult not-yet-of-age , his better judgment told him as he accepted the glass, but wasn’t he 21 yet? Yes, he was... Maybe it was just judgment.

“Me neither” He answered after a sigh, too honest for his own sake.

“What changed your mind?” She mischievously asked, crossing her legs in an angle that brushed against his knee.

Donatello considered for a minute to said the truth, my heart was broken and honestly I really want to have sex, how would she respond to that? Was there a polite way of saying it? Instead, he said: “I’ve decided to change my approach on things.”

“Oh, really?” She smiled honestly “...And how’s that gonna happen?”

I will take every opportunity that life gives me, irrespective of its consequences, “I’ll stop sabotaging my wants…” He turned his body a little bit in her direction, he had planned a second sentence to follow but it seemed like he had already said all she needed to hear.

She slid her knee between his legs to climb his lap, brushing the space between the buttons of his shirt lightly. How quickly she hopped on top of him and how quickly his body responded to the feel of her warm perfumed breath against his neck. “That’s great to hear.”

It wasn’t Donatello’s first kiss but the tension of feeling the soft lips of a woman he barely knew nothing about added to the oh-so-suggestive friction of her thighs against  his zipper made it an entirely new experience. If he granted himself a moment of reason, Donnie would most likely find her too hurried and eager - but again, what was his experience in this field? Wasn’t this how the encounter should go? What else was he expecting? Independent of what his reason may have considered, the friction of her palms against the now prominent bulge in his pants added to the delicious sounds coming from her throat made every single indecision go away.

He felt his head light and dizzy as their tongues danced against each other and the urge to feel relief made him bold. She answered the squeeze he gave her bottom with an audible moan that gave Donatello’s stomach a cold wave of shock along with the first visible stain in between his paints. She felt the thickness of his fluid against the fabric and smiled against his lips.

“Such a passionate… response.” She said in what sounded like a performative tone - well, she was a journalist.

He took her incentive and slide her tube dress above her ass, stoking it as he lowered his lips to her neck. Her skin was soft and the way it reacted to his mouth - the small flinches of her body and the building pressure between his legs could only compare to the amazing feeling of her silk soft thigh skin. She used her hands to guide his head further down, lowering the piece of garment herself, he instinctively took one of her nipples in his mouth, enjoying the contrast between the soft skin of her breasts and the beaded texture of her nipples.

When Alicia laid her body against him on the couch, he followed her moves and felt the soft pillow against his head, the discreet but unmistakable sound of his zipper being opened followed by her stocked gasp at his member followed by “Oh I’m gonna have fun tonight!”. Donatello held her waist closer to his own, trying to reach her lips again, wondering if he could say the same. The warmth between her legs and the delicious feeling that jolted through his body and she aligned him to her entry - and the irresistible pleasure of feeling his tip tease her plump lips - made him think that the most likely answer was yes .

...And what an unnecessary concern the wine proved to be: he didn’t even get to drink it.

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

“...you know, Raph made a friend.” Mikey had stood on his feet and now looked through the squared window. He had a regular habit of standing up during the sessions, usually as they were reaching the middle of the appointment. Sara it wrote down anyway, before adding:

“Really?”

Mikey hummed “...It’s a complicated story - but he left to buy a bear, this old man didn’t want to sell it to him, so he got really angry, so someone threatened to call the police, so he started to freak out and then this… girl appeared!”  He was switching his body height between his legs “Clara. What a name! Heh- I don’t get to say that, huh? Well, her name was Clara and he said she looked like an anime version of a character from Fresh prince of bel air … Can you imagine?” He turned to look at her. Sara just nodded.

“Wanna hear some really crazy stuff? Raph told me that they were talking and she told him she saw my interview… and she said she was in love with me!” He offered his therapist an incredulous happy smile “ME! Can you believe it?”

Sara hummed and made another note.

“I know she was kidding, I don’t think she loves me. But saying it like this sounds like… Like I am a celebrity! Like she would like to know me… Like…”

“Like you have been seen.”

“HELL YEAH!” He exclaimed, sitting down on the couch again grabbing his trust-worthy pillow “... And that sucker didn’t even got her number…” A deep sigh followed silence. Very discreetly, Dr. Miller checked her watch.

“It doesn’t matter, really, it just made me realize… That I wished I had someone…”

More silence.

“-I know I already have someone, if that's what you’re gonna say… I know my brothers are my care net and that I have friends and confidants, and bla bla bla”.

“Well I wasn’t going to…” She said peacefully.

“ I want… A lover . Someone to be my special one. Someone to cherish and spoil and share my life with! Someone who can say they’re in love with me… For real.”

More deep silence.

“... And why don’t you?” She finally prompted. Michelangelo turned to look at her with a impatient expression:

“Are you kiddin’ me?”

“I am definitely not.”

“You can’t be that cynical!”

“I am not.”

“Sara…” He sighed uneasily “... not this again.” she heard pain in his words.

“You have the right to live, Mikey.” She gazed at him with the same kind eyes, letting her strong words get to him “...Just like anyone else.”

This time, that was an anxious silence. Michelangelo rubbed his hands together as if he was facing a cold storm “What if it happens again?”

“Then you will do what we practiced.” She waited for an answer that didn’t come “... Do you wanna remember it once again with me?”

He simply nodded.

“I am more…” She started.

“...than people perceive me.”

“I’ve the right…”

“...to occupy space.”

“No one…”

“No one can deny me my right to live.”

“That was great, Mikey.” Dr. Miller said kindly.

He squeezed the tears away from his eyes, not even realizing they were there. “...Yeah… Yeah, it was.”

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

It was certainly.... Memorable , Donatello thought, staring at his brand new shoes as they made the path back to the lair. How was it again that he found himself in that situation? That sad looking, empty feeling, walk-of-shame. Oh, yeah, Alicia Ellis.

Something felt terrible wrong about that whole endeavor. He tried to think about the details, to analyze the facts: it has been clearly consensual, sober, communicative sex. So why did he feel like some part of him had been left behind in that apartment? Was it his clear shyness when they finally consumed the act or her generous overlook at his even clearer lack of experience? Had him fail his mission? Factually not! He performed… Fine - it was hard to measure, but she seemed pleased enough. He was also pleased… Physically, at least.

So why did he feel so… Empty?

He walked among the streets of New York without the concern his older brother seemed to carry. Donatello was always really good at not carrying - just as he was good at carrying too much . Oh, yes, his overthinking nature was still going to kill him, no matter how hard he tried to pretend like it didn’t matter at all.

Nothing mattered, everything mattered. What a contradictory and childish state of mind. Could he ever find balance? Would he ever be able to take risks and still be prudent? To be disappointed and not lose all faith? To love deeply and move over from it, stronger and ready to love again? Did he ever truly love her ?

He remembered her ring shining against the light, mocking his defeat. A zirconium, Casey Jones…  Can’t even buy her a real diamond . He muttered to himself and the night, kicking a small rock in the path.

The worst part, the real strike of the devil - was the fact that she looked immensely happy. Heartbreakingly happy. And there was nothing, nothing in this world that Donnie could think that could justify taking this away from her - not even the fantasy that she could be happier.

He took a deep breath and grabbed the keys in his pocket. That was no way out of it: we would have to get over her. At least now he knew that running away to unknown women’s homes was not a viable solution.

[costellos]

I loved the hcds of the bucci gang realizing that they are in love, how is it with the squadra?

YEEEESSS thank you for this suggestion, friend! delicious. finally some good food. I only focused on Risotto, Prosciutto, Melone, and Ghiaccio for this one. it doesn’t seem like there’s much of an audience for Illuso, Formaggio, and Pesci, anyway.

Bucci gang ver. here!

❥ ┋ ❝ la squadra realizing that they’re in love!

risotto nero.

Risotto realizes he’s in love when you prove him wrong.

he’s a man on a mission. as a world-renowned assassin, Risotto knows exactly what needs to be done and how to do it. there is no room for hesitation in this line of work. that’s why he was so surprised when you were placed in his team.

you’re capable, he’ll admit that much. but during his assignments with you, he’s quick to notice those brief moments of apprehension. there might be a glint in the target’s eye, that sign that they’re not ready to die yet. even though he tells you to ignore it, you still hesitate. he concludes that you’re not ready for this.

it happens while following an assignment from the Boss. Sorbet and Gelato still haven’t turned up. despite his team being nothing but obedient (even with their suspicions of the couple’s fate), Risotto doesn’t like the way this mission is carrying out.

chatter fills the streets of Naples. streetlamps are ignited, signing a near-end of the day. there isn’t anything off about this night, not technically. it still doesn’t feel right. Risotto keeps his guard up as he turns with you into an alleyway. you’re supposed to retrieve a yellow envelope from the Boss here.

you catch it before he does. the mission is a set up, with the Boss sending men to dispose of Risotto, as his death would shamble La Squadra. yet before the Boss’s henchmen can do anything, you swipe at their legs, incapacitating them.

there weren’t any giveaways that these men were working for the Boss. yet when you both approach them, they admit they were paid a hefty sum to carry out the assignment. that’s when he sees it: the Aegis tattoos on their wrists.

like always, you hesitate when getting rid of them. thankfully, the job is done and you’re both safe. at least for now.

“you caught their tattoos,” he notes.

you admit that you did. it’s a sign of loyalty that all of the Boss’s higher profile cronies bear. a divine shield, the tool that Zeus himself used to strike fear into the hearts of men. Risotto is shocked that you caught the marks so fast.

you always hesitate during missions. he’s well-aware of that. but while he initially saw it as a weakness, there’s more to you than he anticipated. your ability to analyze the situation, to catch details that even he would miss. it’s... curious. yet intoxicating nonetheless. ↳ “good work.” his hand is on your shoulder, an action that you’ve become familiar with during your assignments with him. this feels different somehow, though. warmer. “but don’t assume that this is the end of it. tonight proves that we need to be more aware.” aware of everything now, he notes. your surroundings, the people you talk to, and as Risotto spends more time with you, his own feelings.

prosciutto.

Prosciutto realizes he’s in love when he sees your efficiency.

he doesn’t like dwelling on things. feelings, main points, and certainly not missions. Prosciutto makes his best effort to complete his assignments as quickly as he can. that doesn’t mean he cuts corners, though. he’s very good at his job.

that said, he gets quite frustrated watching Formaggio and Melone carry out their assignments. they always leave a trace of themselves behind, and in the case of the former, he often has to deal with several needless causalities. going over their paperwork is always such a headache.

then he’s partnered with you. despite your three months on the squad, this is the first mission Risotto has had you collaborate on. not that Prosciutto minds. like all other things, he doesn’t think much of it. he’s seen enough reports of your own fighting style to know that you’re skilled.

it didn’t come so apparent until you landed on-site. the Forum of Augustus, ruins left by Augustus himself honoring the Roman god, Mars. although Prosciutto had visited Rome countless times (sometimes for formal work, sometimes out of pleasure), this is his first time stepping foot in the forum.

you’re supposed to dispose of a small but rival gang. Prosciutto makes diligent work of aging them. but there’s one kid who’s stubborn, using her explosive stand to send shock waves throughout the site.

he sighs. this might be more work than he had anticipated. no wonder Risotto sent two people for this assignment.

but before he can think of his next move, Prosciutto finds the girl at his feet. he scowls. then he looks at you. you’re breathing heavily with your arm still raised, a sign that you had used your elbow to knock her out. he’s not sure how you did it but you did, and now this mission is over before it began.

“nicely done,” he tells you. the forum doesn’t look terribly damaged. there are some collapsed columns and chipped statues, but nothing worth fretting about. so he starts using Grateful Dead to disintegrate the bodies to nothing more than dust. that’s when you start beating yourself up, something about how you could’ve done better. Prosciutto turns to you.

you wanted to cause less damage. the Forum of Augustus is a national landmark; just because it was used as a meeting grounds for some lowlifes doesn’t mean that it should be destroyed. likewise, you wanted to make Prosciutto’s job easier. you had heard that he’s a stickler for inefficient work, and this being your first mission together, you didn’t want to be a nuisance.

Prosciutto blinks. you went that far for some thousand-year-old cement? for him? he’s so used to his colleagues brushing him off (save for Pesci, bless him). being considered for once feels... nice. so he puts his hand on the small of your back, shaking his head at your grievances. ↳ “to be honest, you far exceeded what the others would have done.” Prosciutto comes off as a cold man, but he’s actually quite comfortable giving praise as he sees fit. it certainly applied here. “don’t dwell on it. let’s just finish the job.” and it was true: you did great work, exceeding beyond his own expectations. how else will you surprise him?

melone.

Melone realizes he’s in love when you go out of your way to protect his stand.

yes, he can make a new junior at any time. this one, though... di molto! it’s absolute perfection! the ideal combination of nature and nurture, this junior is sure to put up a beautiful fight. Melone is brimming with excitement.

he first thought it was a mistake. your using your stand to protect his, defending it from an onslaught of punches from your target. “I can’t tell if they did it on purpose or not,” the junior reports to him. Melone simply waves his hand in the air, telling it not to worry. it can trust you protect it. he only says that to reassure the junior, however. while his other colleagues had protected it in the past, they never went out of the way to do so. Melone thinks nothing of it.

even still, he’s puzzled. he knows he can make a new junior at anytime. you know this too. 

ugh. whatever. he won’t think too much about it.

but then it happens again. this time, your stand swoops the junior into its arms, saving it from a falling lamppost. when Melone hears word that you defended his stand — for sure now — he’s not sure how to react. so he leans back in his seat, hand stroking his chin.

he’s become so accustomed to Formaggio mocking Baby Face. not like that idiot would understand, anyway; Melone’s gotten used to it. he knows what Baby Face is capable of. his colleagues do too. and certainly you.

that’s why he can’t wrap his head around why you would do it. it’s the first thing he asks you when you return back to the squad’s hideout.

because I knew how proud you were of this one, you respond. you make it sound so casual, with your bright smile and shrug of the shoulders. Melone simply looks back at you, eyebrows scrunched. even Risotto would let the junior perish if it meant completing the mission. you obviously went beyond simply defending it. at that point, it’s just risky for everyone.

despite that... he can’t stop thinking about it. your prioritizing his happiness over the mission might have been foolish, but he still appreciates it. how you smiled when you told him, how you made it sound like the easiest task in the world. Melone suddenly finds himself wanting more missions with you. so he approaches you as you’re leaving for your next assignment, frame overlooking you, expression amused: ↳ “heading out now? di molto! let me have Baby Face assist you!” he’s so obvious about wanting to spend more time with you but he doesn’t care. someone who entertains his silly, little pleasures is something worth keeping an eye on. “no, no, I insist. please, it’s nothing worth fretting about.” maybe one day, you’ll have eyes for him too.

ghiaccio.

Ghiaccio realizes he’s in love when you indulge his rant.

although he can remain level-headed during a mission (to a certain degree), there are many things that makes Ghiaccio tick during moments of peace. his most obvious grievance being inconsistencies in diction and proverbs.

everyone is familiar with the Venezia rant. that said, most had become familiar with what makes him annoyed. and unfortunately, most do it on purpose.

it happens while planning for the next group assignment. it’ll take place at Teatro di San Carlo, a historic opera house next to the Piazza del Plebiscito. Prosciutto is running over the details when he says it: foyer. not as foi-yur, however. foi-yeh. and Ghiaccio loses it.

he goes off on a tangent, explaining that the word stems from old French and it doesn’t make any sense for it to be pronounced like that. he’s slamming his fist on the table, voice raised as he makes his point. Prosciutto and Pesci are looking at him blankly. Formaggio and Melone are stifling a laugh. Risotto and Illuso let out a sigh and turn to each other. with a nod from Illuso, Risotto holds up his hand, asking that Ghiaccio save this for a different day.

despite his obvious displeasure (crossed arms and a soft click of the tongue, typical of him), Ghiaccio quells his argument. Risotto gives Prosciutto the okay to continue.

so he does. but this time, he makes it a point to continue using ‘foi-yeh.’ he emphasizes it every time he uses it, his azure irises flickering toward Ghiaccio with every use. he’s enjoying this. Ghiaccio clearly isn’t.

at the end, Prosciutto asks if there are any questions. you raise your hand. to be honest, Ghiaccio isn’t paying attention to most of what you’re saying. that is, until he hears you use ‘foi-yur.’ you emphasize it as clearly as Prosciutto had with ‘foi-yeh,’ sprinkling it wherever you can. when you finish, you turn to Ghiaccio (who’s now staring at you, eyes wide) and flash him a thumbs up.

Ghiaccio isn’t sure what to do. so he responds with an ‘okay’ sign, eyes still wide from your little show. no one has ever defended him like that. “defended” might be a strong word for most, but to have his point be acknowledged in such a small way has Ghiaccio at a loss for words. so he just sits there, wordlessly, staring at the blueprint that Prosciutto is using for this next mission. once Risotto calls the meeting adjourned, though, Ghiaccio is the first to spring from the table, taking his spot beside you as the others file out of the room. ↳ “you didn’t have to do that, you know.” he blinks. shit, was that to harsh? “they’re going to call you a kiss up now.” there. that puts the concern on you, because truly, he is worried that the others will tease you now. but you just shrug and say that you don’t care, that you didn’t want him to feel ignored. Ghiaccio is, in spite of White Album’s abilities, a hothead. he’s a man built from passion and liveliness and enthusiasm. and after hearing you say that, he’s starting to feel those sentiments apply to you, too.

[slasherfilth]

You Are What You Eat - Chapter One (Thomas Hewitt x Reader)

You hum along to the chorus of the song blasting from your radio as you drive along the seemingly endless dirt road. Your eyes were squinting now and again to try and see through all the dust your car was kicking up as you made your way down to your Fathers old property. It had been at least a decade since you had seen it; since you'd experienced dirt roads and the sticky feeling of sweat dripping from your forehead in the sweltering Texas sun. You'd moved out of the home a long time ago, eager to leave the backwash town of Fuller and onto something greater as you had once told your father. He'd been supportive in the decision but always said you would come back to the quiet life. Like your privacy too much to be livin' in those tiny places with too many people. You had rolled your eyes naturally, adamant that you would never miss this place once you made it out. But here you were. You were driving along the same dirt road from your childhood, surprisingly eager to be away from the hustle and bustle of city life. He had been right. A small smirk curled on your lips as you thought that. He'd have a field day if you'd ever managed to tell him that. However, a small pang of sadness hit you just as quickly as the thought came. That's the main reason your back. You couldn't tell him. The only reason you could afford to move back out was because of the inheritance and a house already paid into your name. A small sigh left your lips as you tried to focus on the music once more, at this point too exhausted to cry about it anymore.

It wasn't long until you finally pulled into the old house. A smile bloomed on your face as you took in the sight of the place you once called home. Memories of you running up the steps to the patio in a hurry from school, ready to blurt out your day to your parents. A simple rope and plank swing still hanging from the big sturdy tree that sat outside the front of the house. Remembering how you would read books from dawn till dusk under the cool shade of the tree as you grew older. With a huff of effort, you jumped out of the car, eager to stretch your legs after hours of driving. And with that you began to walk towards the all too familiar house, ready to start your new life. You could only hope you enjoyed it more than your last one.

Making your way inside you couldn't help but appreciate how cute your home really was. A housewife's dream really. Sky blue the outside, and a mix of light colours painting the interior. Big white windows over the walls, letting in natural light that bounced off the wooden furniture beautifully. You'd been fortunate. Dad had left everything to you. Which you'd appreciated since all you had yourself was a small couch, TV and a washing machine. This would be a much different experience. Humming, you made your way around the house, opening windows to let light and air in. Hoping to remove the musty smell that had built up over time. Once you finished your task, you sat down on the dining room table, taking it all in. You felt lighter already. The sadness of why you now have all of this was still there, but you pushed it away to think of the better opportunities. You could do so much more here—no one to tell you what to do or what to make. A broad grin enveloped your lips as you thought of that. And with that lovely thought, you made your way back to the car. You were initially going to wait before heading to the old business, give yourself time to adjust before setting to work. But the hardworking mentality of a country upbringing wouldn't let you. There was so much to be done, and you were more than a little excited.

 _____________________________________________________________

 By the time you got to town it was already in the evening, but you were too eager to take a look at the old bakery and see how much work is needed to start up again. You promised yourself you wouldn't stay long, that you could come back tomorrow and begin the real work. Still, for now, you just wanted to bask in the idea of finally being able to live your dream of having your own bakery. You hoped it would all work out. Hoped the locals remembered how good the bakery once was and feel the need to come to inspect again when word got out it was open once more. It wouldn't take long. Word travelled like wildfire through these parts. And with that, you wondered how long it would take for people to realise there was a new face in town. Not too long, you hoped. You were not always the most social person, but you would still like to make friends and have tea sometimes. Maybe you would even find that once special guy out there. You almost laughed at the thought. How many times your mother had asked about boys in your life. When were you gonna get yourself a man? You ain't gonna be bringing back one of those city boys are ya? You'll need a country boy, someone who can work and take care of you. At one time, it had made you laugh. How were you going to find a country boy in the city? But she had been right in the long run. Them boys had never tickled your fancy much. Always focused on their looks, carrying around combs and swaggering around all the ladies, acting smooth. You saw right through it all.

None of them would be able to handle a good day's work. Too weak to do some heavy lifting, no matter how much they bragged and too vain to get a bit dirty to accomplish something. You wrinkled your nose. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't fantasied about a tall, muscled up, hardworking family man taking you for a spin when you were planning your new life out here. Someone that would come along and just sweep you off your feet with one hand and help you around the house and bakery with the other. Another laugh left you; good luck, girlie. How about you make it through setting up and living here before you start fantasying about all that jazz.

As you were lost in your own thoughts, you checked around the small joint, happy to find big working ovens, a register, walk-in cooler and massive pantry. It had definitely been revamped since the last time you were here which made you happy. A lot less work than what you were expecting. A simple clean down and electricity organising and it would all be good to go. You would be open by the end of the week with any luck. A hum of appreciation left you as you walked back out to your car. Thinking of some recipes, you thought the locals would like. Maybe you should try to catch up with that old meat business. See if you could strike up a deal for some meat pies. And with that you drove home, giddy about what the next few days would bring.

 _______________________________________________________________

You were in the back, kneading some dough for a new apple pie recipe you had been dying to try. After finding an apple tree at the end of your yard growing some beautiful juice fruits, you'd spent some time trying to perfect a recipe. Today you were eager to make it and offer some free samples to see if the locals would like it as well, maybe it could be a signature dish in your cosy little bakery. You'd been here for a few weeks by now, settling in nicely to your new house and property. And even happier with the bakery opening the week prior. You had been quite busy that day, everyone seemed to have noticed the work you'd been doing there. Maybe the few brief conversations you'd had when visiting stores had managed to get the word around enough for people to be interested. You smiled as you went to grab the rolling pin however paused as you heard the faint jingle of bells, alerting you to someone's presences. Putting on a big smile, you dusted the flour off of your hands onto the lavender apron you donned making your way to the front. You found an older lady waiting in a lovely floral dress, thick glasses perched on her nose. She immediately gave you a loving grandmother vibe that you adored instantly.

"Good morning, Ma'am. What can I get 'cha?" You placed your hands on your hips and turned to the lady.

"Morning, Darlin'. I just wanted to come check out this old place. Haven't seen it so busy since ol' Danny passed, rest his soul." You smiled gently, feeling an odd tug at your heart. No one had mentioned your father at all since this place had opened. You were relieved but also sad in away. You would have hoped people remembered him a bit more.

"Well thank you, Ma'am. I'm trying my best to continue in his likeness. I'm (Y/N), Danny's daughter. I recently moved out into his old place." You extended a hand, feeling your cheeks heat up as her eyes widened briefly, giving you a once over from head to toe before taking your hand in a soft but firm handshake.

"Well, I'll be darned. Who knew someone like him could raise such a good-looking young lady? I'm Luda Mae. I'm on the property next to yours with the Hewitt family. Got Charlie, Monty and my boy, Thomas out there." A smile flashed on your face. You had seen the old white house briefly before and wondered if anyone was even there anymore. The idea of having neighbours was a delightful one.

"Pleasure to meet you, Luda Mae. It's nice to know I'm not the only one all the way out there. How about I get you some coffee and cakes, I'd love to hear a little about the town and yourself." You decided to be a bit more forward than usual. This woman just made you feel comfortable, and you were interested in who exactly was staying near you. A wide smile adorned the older woman face.

"Well, I'd love that darlin'. White with two sugars, please. And I'll like to try that lemon tart you've got in there. Haven't had a good one in a long time since this place shut down." Joy filled you as you nodded and set to work, making double for yourself as you went to sit down with her.

"I hope it's just as good as you remember." The two of you seemed to get along great, the conversation flowed smoothly as you explained why you came back out and your ideas for the business in the future. How you had gone to culinary school in order to start your own little bakery and how excited you were to share it with people here. The two of you exchanged recipes, and Luda let you in on what local flavours and harvests were available at different times of the year. She also told you about her family, the town's history since you left and odd bits and pieces that came to mind. In between the conversation, you would have to get up to serve some people, but she seemed to enjoy the talk and food which made you happy. No one had been incredibly rude or anything here, but this was the first time someone had shown you that good old country friendliness you remembered so fondly from your childhood.

"Yeah, is a shame the old slaughterhouse shut down, would have been great to have some meat pies around this place." That piqued your interest.

"Oh? I hadn't realised it shut down. I was thinking about trying to get some meat just for that. Well darn, I'll have to think of something else now. Will be too expensive to import for now." A small frown tugged at the edge of your lips. Luda Mae clicked her tongue but smiled.

"No worries dear, I'm sure you will figure something out. If you're ever in desperate need for something you just us know. Us Hewitts aren't the richest folk around, but we're the most generous if you can look past all that ridiculous talk." You kept a smile on your face as you took in Luda's small rant, slightly worried about what she could mean. Where they not well-liked amongst the community? Luda Mae looked like a typical town grandmother though. It was very strange to you. But you didn't wish to comment as you could already tell it was a sore spot. Instead, you nodded and thanked her profusely for her offer, offering a hug as she stood tidying up the plates and cups.

"Oh, don't worry about that I'll handle it. It was lovely to meet you, Ms Hewitt, you can come around anytime for a good chat. Feel free to bring the family too." She smiled wide at that and nodded at you while you gathered up the dishes quickly.

"Will do dear, you take care now. I'll be back." You move to the back with a warm feeling, dropping the dishes next to the sink. Turning you look back at the pie you were initially making before you had gotten interrupted—thoughts of Luda Mae's rant filling your mind. From what you gathered, they weren't the most well off and were considered outcasts even in this small town. You frown. You wondered why. But shaking your head, you turn back to work. You decided you would make up for the town's ridicule and begin making small goodies for the family. You're sure she would be appreciative. She also said she had a son, you wondered how old he was. Maybe a teenager? Perhaps he would like sweets as well.

_______________________________________________________________

So I’ve kind of been lurking around my favourite slashers for awhile and I love everyones stories so much. And now I feel confident adding my own little peices. I’m sure you can guess where the story is going from the clues and I hope you can see which amazingly gruesome muscial this is derived from. Tell me what you think and if you guys like it, I’ll be sure to bring that next chapter with lots of our amazing beefy boi. 

[thotful-writing]

Descending into Darkness (3)

Summary: Delayed gratification only works when there is eventual gratification.

Read on AO3

Chapter 2

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: Choking, wound play, PIV (finally), spitting

A/N: The real fun begins after this chapter. I just needed to get some stuff out of the way before going hard. Enjoy!

Fold, fold, tuck, and flip. Repeat. Fold, fold, tuck, and flip. Repeat. You focused on nothing more than the routine, pushing out any thoughts that crept in while you folded Kylo’s clothes. He was particular and you were eager for the distraction. It had been a full week since he’d kissed you or even touched you for that matter. Which made you conflicted. On one hand, you weren’t being used as a hole to stuff his cock into, and on the other hand, you weren’t being used as a hole to stuff his cock into. Every time you let your mind wander it never failed to stroll back to the way his lips felt against yours, how perfectly his tongue slipped into your mouth and when he pressed himself against you, letting you feel-

“Pet.” His tone was short and made you jump.

You wondered if there would ever be a time where you weren’t startled by him every second of every day. You hurried out of his room to see him brooding and pacing by the door, the latter was normal for him but not the other. For the time you’d known him he didn’t often pace, especially not anxiously as he seemed to be doing. The realization hit you that if he was anxious about something, then you should be too.

“Sir?” You said hesitantly.

“There’s been an… incident in one of the elevators.”

You could only assume the cause of the incident in question was him, but what was his weapon of choice? Helmet, fists, lightsa-

“Enough. You’re going to fix it.” He silenced your thoughts with a glare.

“Sir, I-I’ve… I haven’t worked on First Order tech before, I know I’ve been researching but I’m nowhere near proficient enough to-“

In two easy strides he was in front of you, his gloved hand around your throat as a warning, “your usefulness has just about run out.”

He made no effort to explain further or give you another option. He wasn’t using you like before and you’d basically fallen into the role of his maid for the last week, but you still weren’t confident you could repair an elevator alone.

“Why me? Surely someone else would be more qualified?”

“Because I paid for you and I’d like to get some use out of you. And I’d rather not use First Order resources when you so eloquently offered to repair anything I destroyed when we first met.” He snapped and tightened his grip.

“O-Okay...” You nodded quickly, still completely disarmed by him.

You followed him down one of the corridors, having no other choice and struggling to keep up. He seemed more on edge than before, if that was even possible. You wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he hadn’t taken his frustrations out on you in a week and also why that was. He made a slight grunt, which you could only assume was in response to your thoughts. Using your newly found skill, that actually shouldn’t have been that hard to discover, you focused on his steps and narrating your path in your mind as you walked.

Left, step, step, step, right, straight, heavier step, slight turn at the end. Following Kylo… sir… master… down the hall, going to fix the elevator panel that he- that spontaneously broke. Master sighed. He’s annoyed with my narration. Maybe I should stop? Or should I-

“Stop.” He effectively answered your question just as you arrived at your destination.

The elevator was already decommissioned with the doors opened. You stepped inside and looked around at the destruction, a little bit in awe at the sheer brute force that was on display before you. The main face plate was smashed in and the wires beneath were barely intact. A slight touch and the face plate fell to the floor with a clang. You looked back at Kylo and did your best to silence any thoughts you were having.

“You’ll find everything you need in there.” He pointed to a metal container on the floor, “I’ll return in a few hours to check your work.”

“I’m- You’re leaving me here? Alone?” It was difficult to hide the slight panic in your voice.

It wasn’t that you wanted a babysitter, but Kylo wasn’t the only threat lurking around the ship.

“You expect me to stand here and watch you? No.”

“What if someone tries to bother me or-“

Without warning Kylo had you pinned back against the far wall of the elevator; hand splayed across your chest. His gaze was fixed on you as he held you perfectly still.

“No one touches you and you speak to no one.” He said as if they were your unwritten rules.

“Y-Yes, sir.” You confirmed.

He flexed his fingers against your chest before pulling away, “don’t leave the elevator until I return.”

You nodded and remained with your back pressed against the wall. A soft sigh escaped your lips as he headed back down the corridor. He was too intense, even a normal question evoked a threat from him, but the worst part was how he was beginning to affect you. A craving had settled between your thighs that seemed to be constant. Every time he spoke to you or touched you, it only grew, and the fact that he’d backed off recently made it even worse.

The metal container at your feet was filled with just about every tool you could think of, even another data pad, which you’d need. You grabbed the product code from the back of the crushed face plate and searched the data pad for schematics and some kind of manual. The best it came up with was a general layout of what it should look like. You held the data pad up and looked at the actual open board, realizing they looked nothing alike because one had a Kylo-sized fist dent in it. Your first task was to remove some of the wiring, which would be highly dangerous because there still seemed to be power routing through the elevator to keep the lights on. But you had no choice and you weren’t about to let electrocution deter you from pleasing your master.

You grabbed one of the secured ends, keeping your fingers away from the frayed wires, and unclipped it from the motherboard. Your hand trembled as you worked, knowing it was only a matter of time before you electrocuted yourself and died in the elevator without even getting the opportunity to be fucked by Kylo Ren. Which should’ve been a crime.

Images of Kylo doing unspeakable things with his mouth started to flood your mind, which proved to be a distraction. Your finger slipped and you touched one of the live wires.

“Shit!” You cried out, feeling the jolt zap through your finger and up your arm.

Your entire body buzzed with a current that made your teeth chatter as you scooted back from the source.

“You okay?” A voice came from behind, almost startling you more than the shock did.

You turned around to see a young officer standing in the doorway to the elevator. If there was a description for most First Order members, it would be stoic, bitter, sullen, devoid of any signs of life behind their eyes. This man didn’t fit any of those descriptors. His eyes were kind, soft, a genuinely concerned expression etched across his face.

“Ye-“ You snapped your hand over your mouth and nodded.

The last thing you needed was for Kylo to root around in your mind and find out you spoke to someone else just an hour after he told you not to.

He reached for your injured hand, which you quickly jerked away from him before he could touch you.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a doctor. Well, doctor adjacent, but I can still check a wound.” He took another step towards you, but you backed up against the wall.

He stepped back, “maybe it would help if you knew me a little better. My name’s Fent, I’m usually stationed on the Supremacy, but I transferred back to the Finalizer last week. Can you tell me who you are?”

You chewed on your lip, your anxiety distracting you from the burning in your fingertips. You couldn’t just remain silent; he might think something was wrong and try to take you to get checked out.

“Kylo Ren’s.” You said softly.

His expression changed from concerned to confused, then to almost as scared as you were.

“Oh, I see.” He looked back down the corridor as if he was looking for Kylo.

“I’d still like to take a look at those fingers for you.” He moved towards you again, holding his hand out.

You hesitantly outstretched your hand towards him, trembling, worried that Kylo would walk up at any moment and kill both of you. The tips of your index and middle fingers were red, sure to blister.

“You really should’ve been wearing gloves. And rerouted the power from this panel.” He held your hand in his, turning it to see the extent of the damage.

“I wasn’t fully prepared for the job when I started it.”

“Good news is you won’t lose the fingers, but we should go to the med-bay to let the repair droids-“

You quickly pulled your hand away from his, “no, I can’t- I have to stay here.”

Even though you already broke two of Kylo’s rules, you really didn’t want to go for a third strike by leaving the elevator.

“Alright, at least let me dress it for you?” He was weirdly accommodating to you without further question.

“Okay, but quickly.” You nodded and held your hand out.

He reached into the bag that hung across his shoulder and pulled out a few supplies. You watched him work as he treated your burns, touching you softly and working as quickly as he could. It was a change in pace to the roughness Kylo treated you to. You immediately chastised yourself for the thought but realized Fent couldn’t read your mind. He had no idea what you were thinking.

“All done.” He smiled and released your hand.

“Thank you. I should get back to work.”

“Be careful. Maybe cut the power source before you touch anymore wires?” He suggested with a wink.

“Will do.” You nodded.

You returned to your task, first using the data pad to find the cut off switch for the panel. While you finished your work, you tried to forget about Fent, the last thing you needed was for Kylo to hear you thinking about the gentle, handsome, kind officer that held your hand and dressed your burns for you.

By the time you were done, the bent-up face plate was still amess, but you’d rerouted the wires around the fist sized hole and replaced the motherboard. It wasn’t perfect, but the elevator would at least be operational again. It was still odd that he requested for you to fix it when there were several technicians employed by the First Order who could probably repair it without almost dying. You began cleaning up your tools when you heard the telltale signs of his return, heavy steps across the sleek floors of the corridor. Your heart pounded as he neared, anxiety flooding your body.

“Finished?” He glanced over at your work.

“Yes, sir.” You kept your wounded hand dropped to your side, hiding it from him to avoid questions.

“Come.” He turned and headed back down the hall.

You left everything there and sped up to catch up with him. You fidgeted with the bandages around your fingers, pulling at one of the threads that stuck out. It took all of your focus to keep your mind on anything other than your hand while you followed him back to his quarters. It was more difficult than you thought it would be, but you decided to focus on everything you needed to finish when you returned. There were still a few things that needed to be cleaned and you didn’t get to finish folding his clean linens.

The door opened with a whir and you followed him inside, putting your hands behind your back as you planned your path directly to the bathroom. Before you could take two steps past the door, he shoved you back against the wall.

“You’re trying.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Trying what, sir?” You looked up at him confused.

“You’re trying too hard to keep your thoughts from me. Why?”

You shook your head and swallowed hard, “I’m not. I’m trying the normal amount that I always do.”

A pressure crept into your head as he held his hand up closer to your face, now he was the one trying harder. He dropped his hand instantly and snatched your wrist out from behind your back, eyes fixed on the bandaged fingers.

“What’s this?” He cut his eyes up at you as his hand squeezed your wrist.

“N-Nothing. I touched a wire by accident and had to bandage my fingers.” You hoped he wouldn’t push further.

Kylo brought his other hand up and held it just over your two fingers, “I know you’re lying. I could easily take it from you, but I want to hear it from your mouth.”

“I’m not-“

He wrapped his hand around your two fingers and squeezed tightly, making you cry out. He kept his other hand clutching your wrist to keep you from pulling away.

“Kylo, please!” You begged as tears sprang to your eyes.

“Tell me.” He said through gritted teeth and tightened his grip on your fingers.

“Fuck! O-Okay… It was a um… officer, doctor. He offered to help me. Please let go.” You blurted out in a hurry, trying to keep from fully screaming.

“His name.”

“It was… um, it was… I-I don’t remember. He only said it once. Please, please believe me, I don’t-“

He released your fingers slowly as he grabbed your other wrist. He pinned your arms above your head against the wall and leaned closer.

“What were the two things I said before I left you?”

You were silent for a moment, your fingers throbbing and distracting you from giving an answer immediately.

“No one touches me, and I don’t speak to anyone.” You said, confused by the way your body was reacting to him.

Your fingers still ached from his grip, but you wanted to lean into him more, having him close was clouding your judgement. Your eyes flitted from his to his lips, reminding you of how long it had been since he kissed you. You tried to shove the thoughts out of your head, but they refused to go. You wanted him, even after all of the pain and torture, you still wanted as much of himself as he would give you.

“Ask.” He said simply, never moving away from you.

“Ask? Ask for what- Oh.“ You were confused for a moment but realized what he meant.

You peered up at him, his intense gaze still burning through you, “will you- sir, um… can I kiss you again?”

His lips upturned slightly, “that’s not what you want. Ask for what you really want from your master.”

Your mouth went dry and you were sure every ounce of fluid in your body had just flooded your panties, “I-I want- Will you fuck me, master?”

He pushed himself off of you and let your arms fall down to your sides, “come, pet.”

Your feet moved on their own as you followed him, your mind in a complete haze at what had just happened and what was about to happen. You were convinced there might be some trick, that he was going to get you stripped and then deny you again, but there was a part of you that held out hope. You must have been moving too slowly because he grabbed your wrist and yanked you into his room, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

“Undress. All of it.” He ordered and began removing the thick, padded vest he was wearing.

Trembling and aching fingers lifted your dress up and over your head, letting it fall to the floor at your feet. You slipped your shoes and panties off as well, standing perfectly exposed in front of him. The cool, synthesized air wrapped around you but did nothing to quell the heat that rose throughout your body as you watched him. His eyes moved hungrily up and down your body as you knotted your fingers together in front of you. The urge to cover yourself was overwhelming but you knew he would tell you to stop.

Your mind was a dizzying array of confusion and need, flitting between wanting to ask questions and wanting to stay quiet so he would continue. The last week had been torture as he kept his distance from you and you could only assume he was doing it on purpose to toy with you.

He had discarded his shoes, but remained in his undershirt and pants, “I said remove everything.”

You looked down, wondering if your absent mind had forgotten something, but you were completely naked. You glanced back up at him, barely having the chance to open your mouth before he grabbed your injured hand.

“These. Take them off.” He nodded to the bandages.

Surely, he wasn’t serious? You needed to keep the bandages around your fingers, the injury happened only hours before. You looked at your fingers and then back to him.

“Allow me then.” He held your hand up and grabbed the medical tape keeping the bandages secured, slowly unravelling it from your fingers.

He let it fall to the floor but kept a firm hold on your hand, “get yourself ready for me. Using these.”

He curled your other fingers down into your palm and kept the two injured ones raised. His expression let you know he was completely serious and that if you wanted to go further you’d have to do as he said. You were trying to decide if it was worth it, but one glance at him and you crumbled.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, throwing out all self-respect and concern for your own comfort.

In a completely disarming move, like everything he did, Kylo brought your fingers up to his lips and sucked on each one, the softness of his tongue was welcomed against the burned tips of your fingers but it still caused slight pulses of pain. Your breath hitched in your throat and you were unable to tear your eyes away from him.

He pulled your fingers from his mouth, “on the bed. Legs spread wide.”

You climbed on the bed and turned around to face him, propping your feet up on the edge as you let your hand drift down between your thighs, his saliva still coating your fingers.

He flicked his hand, forcing your legs open obscenely wide, “I said open.”

Your cheeks had remained in a constant state of flush, but it felt like your entire body was on fire with the way he was looking at you. His eyes drifted down to your cunt, holding there while you hesitantly slid your hand down further. You inhaled sharply when your fingertips brushed over your clit, a mix of pain and pleasure throwing you off. Your eyes drifted from his lips down his broad chest and to his hand that slowly outlined his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants. You worked your fingers a little harder against your clit, wanting to have him sooner rather than later.

It didn’t take you long to be soaked for him, your thighs and fingers were slick, and you had long forgotten about the burns. He stepped closer and placed his hands on your inner thighs, forcing them even further apart almost painfully.

“You expect to take my cock like this?” He asked, cutting his eyes up at you.

There was no answer that came to mind, “Um, I-“

Kylo leaned down closer and for a split second you were convinced you were dreaming. His mouth opened and time slowed as you saw his tongue brush over his perfect lips, every ounce of you was begging for him to kiss you there. He pursed his lips and spit on your cunt, letting it drip down.

“There. Should help a little.” He stood back up and unzipped his pants.

Everything he did was obscene, lewd, leaving your mind reeling. You had nothing else to compare it to, but you knew it wasn’t the norm.

“Do you remember when I first said you’d be begging me to fuck your pathetic little cunt? What I told you I wouldn’t do?” He pulled his cock free and stroked himself between your thighs.

You searched your mind, trying to focus on what he was saying and not the way his cock looked so close to where you wanted it.

“Um, that… you wouldn’t be gentle?” Your voice was small as you avoided direct eye contact with him.

“Good pet. Remember that.” He stepped closer and you felt the tip of his cock rub against your pussy.

Your breath hitched in your throat when he pressed the tip of his cock against your cunt, easing into you slowly, inch by inch. The way he filled you was painful, stretching your cunt. You almost hoped he’d just put it all in at once to speed up the process. You realized you hadn’t taken a breath in a while and finally inhaled sharply as your hands remained by your sides, clutching the sheets. Every muscle in your body was tense as he continued, your teeth biting into your lip to keep from begging him to stop or keep going.

One sharp thrust of his hips made you let go of the yelp that had been caught in your throat. You tried to squirm away, wanting to lessen the pain you were feeling by any means necessary. He grabbed your throat and held you still while he slowly eased out of you. You waited on a bated breath until he slammed into you again, forcing you to swallow the plea on the back of your tongue. He pulled you closer to him with his hand around your throat, not enough to cut off your airways, but enough to keep you in place.

His other hand clamped down over your wrist, his thumb sliding up your palm towards your burns, “you belong to me, pet. No one touches what’s mine.”

His possessiveness was enticing, almost as if he was jealous, but you knew that couldn’t be the case, not over you. He continued his pace and the pad of his thumb pressed against the tip of your finger, making you cry out. The pain from your finger distracted you from the pain between your legs for the time and all you could do was try to wriggle your hand free of his grip, but it was useless.

“Who owns you, pet?” He asked through gritted teeth, his hair falling in strands over his face as his cock hammered into you harder.

“Y-You… master.” You squeaked, your tongue feeling foreign in your mouth as a sensation began to slowly roll through your body.

“Again.” A breathy groan escaped his parted lips, making you moan softly at the sound.

A tension continued to build, winding up within you and clouding your mind of any previous concerns. Each time his cock hit deeper within you, you felt it, falling into the rhythm as his body rocked against yours.

He tapped the side of your cheek hard enough to catch your attention, “again, pet.”

“You, master. Only you.” You said in more of a whine than you meant to.

He released your hand and your throat, moving his hands down to your hips and digging his fingers painfully into your skin. He fucked you roughly, leaving a trail of bruises that would remain as reminders for you. Almost souvenirs.

You found yourself instinctively lifting up to meet him thrust for thrust, arching your back and chasing the high you felt. The pain had all but dissipated, an ache remained but you were too enamored by him to focus on it.

A sheen of sweat had blanketed over both of you as he drove his cock into your pussy more fervently, skin sliding against skin. His hair stuck to his flushed cheeks; his rhythm now more erratic as you teetered on the edge of your own orgasm. You didn’t know if he had any intention of worrying about you coming or not, so you took it upon yourself to focus on it. Quick, harsh thrusts with fingers scraping down the sides of your hips and a cacophony of your whimpers and his grunts filled the room.

“K-Kylo…” His name slipped past your lips as you clenched around his cock, your release hitting you hard, intense wave after wave.

You writhed and tried to bite back your moans, trying to hold back as you came on his cock. He ignored your string of expletives and pleas for more as he drove his cock deeper and stilled, letting go himself. His cock twitched inside of you as he filled you with his cum, chest heaving as harsh breaths past his lips.

He remained hunched over you; hands planted firmly on the bed on either side of you. You propped yourself up a little and looked down to where your bodies remained connected. His cock still disappeared inside of you, but you could see the faint stains of dried blood coating him and your thighs.

He pushed himself up and pulled out of you suddenly, making you wince, “clean yourself up then change the sheets.”

He slicked his hair back with his hand as he headed into his bathroom, leaving you there in the combination of your bodily fluids and his. You climbed off the bed and gathered your clothing while you made your way to the other bathroom, feeling his cum dripping down your legs with each step.

You assumed you’d have questions, concerns, comments of some kind, but mostly your mind remained blank. You were still trying to process everything and found that you were questioning yourself more than him. He hurt you and not in the way you had expected, but that wasn’t the concerning part. The part that made you almost fearful of yourself was that you liked it. You liked when he choked you, how he used your wounds to his benefit, the way he held onto you as if he was trying to dig his fingers beneath your skin.

The person in the mirror looked back at you but she seemed almost unrecognizable. A darkness seemed to be digging it’s way through and there was nothing holding you back anymore. You wanted to freefall into the blackhole and see what was on the other side.

[heliosthegriffin]

The Burdens of Lordship

Jaune decided he needed to go get out for a night, and by himself.

It had been a long couple of months at Beacon, hard, difficult, and nowhere near-easy for a fake like himself.

But, he had made it so far with Pyrrha and his teams help.

He be dead without them, hells, he’d be dead without Ruby too.

But, with all these new teams coming in today... It felt so damn suffocating, even more than usual. Like they could see through him, see that he didn’t belong here.

So, it brought him here, getting dressed for a knight on the town, heh, he’d made a Yang.

A nice pair of cream slacks, a royal blue dress shirt, a black vest on top of it lined with faux-gold buttons, a pair of nice brown loafers, and fine leather belt to bring the suit together. Contrarily to Yang and Weiss’s opinion, he did know how to dress himself, being raised by his parents plus seven overbearing sisters taught him enough, it’s just, since he came to Beacon he’s actually had the freedom to wear what he wanted.

Tonight though? He want to look better than he felt. So, he brushed his a hair enough to look presentable, and went out into the dorm.

“Well, how did I dooooo-” Jaune didn’t get to finish as Nora barreled pasted into the bathroom, knocking him to the side.

Pyrrha stifled a laugh and Ren gave the barest hint of a apolegtic smile.

Jaune steadied himself, giving a laugh at his own expense. He couldn’t blame Nora for having to go to the bathroom, could he?

“Well, how do I look?” Jaune asked his partner and his friend.

Pyrrha gave him a friendly smile and nodded approvingly. “Quite lovely, Jaune. You look dashing.”

“Ah, thanks Pyr.” Jaune said with a slight blush, it always felt nice to be complimented.

Ren looked on more skeptically, with a hand on his chin. “Turn around.”

Jaune did as asked.

“Ok, do some stretches.”

Jaune complied with his team-mates wishes, surely he would notice if he missed something. 

“Alright, you look passable. Here,” Ren approached Jaune squirted a few drops of cologne, and helped straighten out his outfit. “And now you look, as Pyrrha put it, quite dashing.” Ren said with a light smile.

“Thanks, Ren.” Jaune said another light blush on his cheeks. “Well, I guess I should be going then.”

“Wait,” Ren said putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re forgetting something.” He looked over to Pyrrha and she handed the boys Crocea Mors.

Jaune looked on incredulous. “Why would I need Crocea Mors?”

Ren shook his head. “You’re a huntsman, you must look the part at all times. Plus...”

Jaune frowned, knowing where he was leading. “It’ll make me less likely to be mugged or something.” 

Jaune knew he was a still noodly, and looked kinda weak. But he was working really hard on that!

Jaune still took his blade without complaint, admittedly he has gotten so used to wearing it, he started feeling off when not wearing it.

Pyrrha rubbed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like that Jaune, it’s not we’re concerned about you getting hurt, far from it, the odds of someone attacking you and them being huntsman trained are one in some hundred. We’re actually more concerned that someone might mug you and...”

Ren chimed in, “Well, you’re not Nora strong, but you’re being trained and have Aura, and that’s more than enough to hospitalize someone without one or both.”

Jaune grimaced at the idea. While he didn’t fancy himself strong or powerful, it as kinda hard to deny he hadn’t been making progress, last week he had managed to take off the head of one of the old drones that General Ironwood had donated to the academy. A regular human probably require much, much less effort.

So he nodded. “I see your point. Better to deter them, before they make a attempt.”

“Also, Ruby would be peeved if you didn’t start taking this.” Then Pyrrha pushed a black hand-canon into his hand. She then looked him in the eyes. “I’d also be rather put out, considering I paid for it.” A sly grin in her eyes.

Jaune sighed and equipped the gun to his waist opposite of Crocea Mors. Ever since he had started training with Pyrrha seriously, she had quite insistent about covering his ranged issues. So his devious partner, had behind his back teamed up with his best friend and local gun-nut, Ruby Rose, to make him a custom-hand canon.

Her evils truly knew no bounds. They had even come up with a name for it the devils! Noctis Mors.

Ruby had been a cruel task-master in teaching him the in’s and outs of shooting Noctis Mors, she had made him assemble and reassemble her until his hands bled gun oil. Suffice to say, while Noctis Mors felt a little strange on his hip, he was getting used to it.

“Thank you, Pyrrha.” He said, and pulled her into a hug, which she reciprocated.

“Better to have it and not need it, then to needed and not have it.”

Jaune smiled and shook his head, his friends were too good to him.

“Tell Nora, I said bye.”

Ren nodded his head. “You should leave before she loads you up with some grenades.”

Jaune shivered at the thought, he might be coming around to using Noctis Mors, but he doubted he’d ever get used to high-caliber explosives, He’d leave that to his crazy ginger bomber.

“Well, bye guys, I’ll see you later tonight.” Jaune said to his friend and Partner.

“Bye, Jaune.”

“Try not to eat to unhealthily!”

“I make no such promises!” Jaune said with a laugh, slipping out of the dorm.

Jaune made his way down the hallways of the dorm toward to the stairs that led outside. Where he encounters a quartet of familiar faces.

Jaune gave a friendly wave to Team RWBY as he walked towards them.

“Jaune!” Ruby said speeding over. “What are you up too? You’re not trying to ask Weiss out again are you?”

Jaune gave a eye-roll. “No, just heading out for the night. Just thought, I be a good friend and say hi.” Jaune said with stress on the word friend.

Ruby gave a laugh. “Sure, you are.”

The rest of her team caught up. Weiss in particular looked at him with suspicion,

“So, VB, whats the occasion for looking so sharp, you got a hot date tonight?” Yang asked giving him a approving nod.

“Hah, no, not tonight. I, uh, just gotta to get out for a night. You know? I just feel so trapped lately, and I want to not really think about things for a night.”

Ruby gave him a sympathetic nod.

While surprisingly Blake, the one he probably never interacted with, looked at him with a surprising level of empathy. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I hope you find what you’re looking for tonight.”

“Yeah me, too.”

Weiss then choose to cut in. “So, you don’t know what you’re looking for then?” Giving him a sharp look.

Jaune almost buckled under her gave, but straighten his back. “Uh, no, but, It’s not like I’m just idling around in Vale all nigh, I’ve got a couple places to hit up, but it’s not like I’m keeping to strict schedule, I either get to them or I don’t, I’m just trying to de-stress is all.”

Weiss huffed in disapproval, but said nothing in return. The Ice Queens love of schedules and appointments was approaching that of legend.

Yang then slung an arm around his shoulders, though she had to lean up to so. “Well, VB, that sounds fun and all, but Team RWBY as places to be and butts to kick, so go have your fun.” 

Jaune untangled himself. “That’s the plan, you guys go stop crime or whatever trouble you’ll get up to.”

“We don’t always do that!”

Jaune raised a suspicious brow at that.

“We don’t!”

“Sure.” Then Jaune turned and walked away, feeling as though he had won that conversation.

As he was leaving, he heard Weiss call out. “Arc.” Jaune turned to looked at her. “Try to not make a fool out of yourself, tonight.” The barest hint of what may one day be a smile on her face.

“That’s not on the list, but I’ll add it in anyway.” He said turning around, not bothering to try to find sort of conversation with her. He knew where they stood relationship wise, and if it could improve over time, that sounds good, if not, well all he could hope is keeping thing civil.

-------

Jaune made sure to pop something for his motion-sickness before he bordered the bullhead, so the flight down wasn’t as terrible as it could be, it was still awful, but at least he wasn’t spewing his guts everywhere.

His stomach feeling wobbly made he strike eating off the list for now, so he choose his first destination, and walked through one of Vales, many, many parks. Admiring the well-tended plant-life and occasionally waving at anybody who waved at him.

After his stomach settled, he decided to walk towards the closest bookstore, and just browsed till he founded something interesting. He had less-time with keeping up with comic and whatever came out of Mistral, since coming to Beacon. Still he left the store with couple interesting comics and even a couple books on stuff relating to huntsman actives.

Finally his stomach had decided to let him know, he could refill it. He ended up at a nice steak house, and somehow managed to get to a table in under a hour.

Jaune set at a table looking over a menu, he had already decided on what steak he want, now it was just onto sides.

A waitress then made herself known. “Hello, hello, what can I get you today?”

Jaune recited his order. 

“Right, well have it out as soon as possible. Also, from the rest of us here, we’d like to think you for your service.”

Jaune’s face crunched in confusion.

“Huntsmen are a invaluable part of our society, and as such, we’d like you to know that your meal is on the house tonight, if you require anything else, please just call.”

Then his waitress left, somehow managing to make Jaune feel appreciated and also like a complete piece of shit.

----

The meal was delicious, and Jaune had made sure to leave a nice tip anyway before leaving.

Did his dad get free meals like that? Did all huntsmen just get their bill wavered?

Jaune paused for a moment and sat on a bench, thinking.

He stares out into the evening light and all the people out there, living there lives, good or bad, they were still people weren’t they? They were probably didn’t even think about how to they need to get stronger, or how to kill the next grimm they face, were they?

They shouldn’t have to either? Should they, since that was his job kinda. Jaune thought for a second, he might not be a real huntsman, or even a real huntsman in training, but whats to stop him from faking it till he made it for real? What does it matter if the arms that carrys the sword has trained for two years or two months, if it can cut, it can serve.

If people were going to honor him as a huntsman, he was going to honor them by acting like one.

There wasn’t a smile on his face, but there wasn’t a frown either.

He didn’t have time to idle anymore, he needed to get back and work off this meal.

‘KAAAA-BOOOOM!!!’ A sound like none Jaune had heard before tore the air into pieces, it was so loud that it put any sound he heard before into a whimper. It was like the crack of thunder on a scale inconceivable, like lightning striking turned up to twelve.

His hearing was protected by Aura, and it was still ringing.

He turned his head towards the source of the sound, towards Beacon, and towards Patch, towards were he say the source of several more sources of the sound, and a terrible, but wondrous site.

Of what looked like one of those things Weiss summoned before, but bigger, on a scale that could cover entire city blocks! 

A pillar of sheer white light stuck Beacon, and in a moment of realization, what must be Signal on Patch.

A light so bright and terrible, Jaune felt it burn against his aura, and could see the fires start around the Emerald Forest. He carefully took his hand off his ear, the sound pound like a hammer into his head, and he could see the bones through his skin. He slapped his hand back across his head.

The pillars kept of their thunderous booming for several minutes, as Jaune covered his ears, watching in utter horror.

It felt almost like a the air was slapping against his bones, and sound was hitting against his bones, rattling and shaking them.

The ground as shaking too he realized.

Silence and darkness.

The pillars suddenly disappeared, and a vacuum of sound was left over.

The city was now dark and silent, as day left night along, as the lights in the city did not turn on, as the only light was that of the fires, there was no sound at first... Then the screams started.

AN: I can’t believe everyone, but, Jaune just got fucking Isekai’d.