#throws this on the dash then disappears off to bed

[leatherfangs]

open ;

"A gay guy hit on me today and didn't realize his mistake. I’ve truly peaked as a lesbian.” She’s dressed masc today, a SnapBack and plain black t-shirt. Her size and build take care of the rest. It’s an understandable mistake, and one she can’t stop grinning about.

[pirateprincessblog]

ateez nsfw links 🫧

Park Seonghwa

Park Seonghwa loves to go live and entertain his fans. All those legos, food, talk and more have you sighing of boredom in his hotel room. You are sitting on Hongjoong’s bed, behind Seonghwa’s screen, in a not so innocent position. You make him stutter in front of the camera, and you laugh every time he has to stop talking for a moment. When you stretch your body and crack your back in a doggy position, he is in a hurry to end his live and join you on that bed.

“I could turn that live back on just like that, with the camera facing you.”

Kim Hongjoong

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t necessarily require much attention. He is very much satisfied with you squirming under him. You are tipsy in the passenger seat, teasing Hongjoong about the couple you saw fucking in the club toilet and how it turned you on. He listens to you rant about how fast he fingered her and how loud she was moaning over the music. At some point, you even say you wish you could cum so many times in a row. And so while you beg him to stop, but don’t shout the safe word yet, he is completely focused in the way his knuckles disappear inside of you, his knees holding your legs apart and tongue on your clit.

“How many more until I prove my point?”

Jeong Yunho

Jeong Yunho looked absolutely dashing at today’s stage, and you’re sick and tired of scrolling through all the husband Yunho tweets from fans. You are jealous that they got to see him in that shirt and that hair before you. You’ve gotten all dolled up, waiting for him to arrive, but in the meantime, you’ve seen quite a few edits from today that made you pissed off again. So when he comes back home and realises why you’re running from his affection, he has to take the matter in his own hands and show you that only you get to feel the shirt on him.

“Jealous of your husband’s fans, when you’re such a pretty wife?”

Kang Yeosang

Kang Yeosang wants to make your first time absolutely perfect. He takes his time making out with you, feeling your body up, gently rubbing your most sensitive spots, until you are dripping through your panties and staining his trousers. But when he sees that you are not quite ready, he takes a different approach, one that is pleasurable for both of you.

“You’re so good for me.”

Choi San

Choi San is a gamer, and sometimes it pisses you off that he spends so much time sitting at the computer. You confront him, not realising that he hasn’t disconnected from Discord yet. He bites the inside of his cheek, containing his amusement mixed with anger as you go off and his friends laugh through the headphones. Once you’re finished, he mutes himself, throwing the headphones aside and pushing you over the desk. At some point, he unmutes himself, just to show his friends that you’re good at yelling about other things too.

“Yell at me some more, I didn’t quite get it the first time.”

Song Mingi

Song Mingi enjoys all the freebies you get as an influencer. From free snacks, free movie tickets, to perfumes, and lingerie he gets to see on you and rip off you. However, todays package was different. They were temporary long lasting tattoos, and he remembers you telling him how attractive you think they are. He witnessed you complimenting Wooyoung and Hongjoong, but he wasn’t quite yet willing to get one himself. So when he got permission from you to open the package while you aren’t home, he prepared a little surprise that had you gasping when you arrived home. Needless to say, he was enjoying the attention you were giving him.

“All the way down, like a good girl.”

Jung Wooyoung

Jung Wooyoung is happy his partner has finally debuted. He is also aware of the mature concept the company has decided to give you. You didn’t show him any songs or outfits until the album and MV came out. But before that, you performed it in front of fans on the show he’s been on countless times. He wasn’t quite prepared for that mature. Stockings, a leather dress, platform boots, and dark smeared lipstick, along with the upbeat song and dance moves, almost gave him a heart attack while standing aside and watching live. And yet you wonder how you ended up with the fishnet gloves in your mouth back in his hotel room, his hands firm on your waist.

“Fuck noona, giving me a VIP show? Think I deserve it? That I’m your biggest most loyal fan?”

Choi Jongho

Choi Jongho gives his all when he performs. How funny that a video of just him sitting during Cyberpunk went viral. Now, whenever he sits, you get horny. Especially with that focused, half angry look on his face. You haven’t said anything yet, but when he comes home from practice and plops down on the couch, throwing his head over the backrest of it, you lose it. You get on his lap, unable to control yourself. He is confused, but doesn’t complain. Neither do you when he plunges his cock into you, looking into your eyes with the same stare as in the video.

“I’ll take good care of you.”

[msmk11]

Aftercare

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

WC: 931

CW: Allusions to sex, fluff

Summary: Title says it all

Day 4 of mk's mad dash

You lay on the bed panting, absolutely covered in sweat and fingers intertwined with Remus’. Though there’s soreness between your legs, it’s a nice sort of pain, and, honestly, you’re a little too fucked out to really notice it anyways. 

Your boyfriend squeezes your hand gently, “You alright, dove?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, dazed.

“I need words, please, sweetheart.”

“Yes, yeah, I’m fine. Great actually.”

Remus chuckles lowly, “Yeah? Good. Wanna get cleaned up?”

“No, just wanna cuddle and fall asleep,” you whine. 

The brunette shuffles over to you and props himself up on his forearm, looking down at you, “We can still do that, promise. But we gotta get cleaned up first.”

You look up at him with big puppy dog eyes and a pouty lower lip, “Remmyyy, please?”

He brushes sweaty strands of hair away from your face, “Sorry, dovey. I’m not against carrying you y’know.”

You sigh dejectedly, “No, it’s okay. I’ll get up. Can you just go get the shower ready?”

Remus places a tender kiss on your forehead, “course, sweetheart.”

He gets up off the bed, mattress creaking under him, and disappears into the bathroom. Shamelessly, you ogle him the entire time. 

First you hear the fan kick on, then the steady pitter patter of the shower. You drag yourself out of bed and are shakier on your feet than you’d ever admit to Remus. When you walk into the bathroom, he is leaning back against the wall, running his fingers under the water to test the temperature. 

You relieve yourself on the toilet and then get ready to join your boyfriend in the shower. He wraps an arm around your waist and mumbles into your hair, “Good girl.” 

When the shower is delightfully steamy, Remus steps in and then holds out his hand to help you. You happily take it and let him pull you into his chest. You wrap your arms around his back and sigh contentedly as the hot water spills over the two of you. 

“Feel good?” he murmurs. 

“Very,” you tell him. 

Keeping one hand on your waist, you feel Remus shift a little and then hear the pop of a bottle opening. He squirts what you presume is shampoo into his hands and then moves to your hair. His big, warm hands begin to knead your scalp gently and you groan out in pleasure. It feels so damn good, and you’re pretty sure you could fall asleep on the spot. 

You’re sad when he pulls away to rinse out your hair, but you don’t show it. Instead, you reach out and take his shampoo, squirting some of it into your own hands. 

“Turn around Remmy,” you demand softly.

He complies and you stand on your tiptoes so that you can run your hands through his sandy-colored hair. You particularly focus on massaging shampoo into the nape of his neck and Remus’ head lolls to the side in pleasure. 

When you’re done you place a kiss on his bare shoulder.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

You then take turns lathering one another in soap, washing away the sweat from earlier. Your hands are all over one another like before. But, unlike before, this touching carries no sexual intentions- it’s only pure, intimate caresses. 

You two finish in the shower and climb out, wrapping your towels around you. Remus’ lay low on his hips while yours is bundled around your head, tucked under your chin.

Your boyfriend can’t help but chuckle at how adorable you look. You shiver a little, missing the heat of the shower and your boyfriend. Remus walks into your shared closet and emerges with one of his long sleeve t-shirts. You gratefully throw it on while he puts on a pair of boxers. 

When you’re both dressed, Remus ushers you over to the sink and lits you onto the counter. He stands between your legs while he prepares both of your toothbrushes. You accept it when he hands it to you and begin to brush your teeth, staring up at your boyfriend with a foamy grin. His brown eyes look softly at you and his damp hair rests so prettily on his forehead that you reach out to touch it. Remus squeezes your thigh lovingly and then bends over to spit out his toothpaste. You finish brushing your teeth and then comb out any tangles in your hair. 

The last and final step is your skincare routine. Luckily, Remus takes charge, smearing the lotions and creams all over your face while you put a little on his skin too. 

“Ready for bed, dove?”

You nod and hop down off the counter. You follow him back into the bedroom and instantly climb into bed. Remus joins you and turns the lights off in seconds. Though it’s dark, the slight glow of the moon through the blinds illuminates his face just enough that you can stare at it happily.

He pulls you into him so that you’re lying chest to chest, arms wrapped around each other. You reach out and brush your fingers across his scars, “You’re so pretty, Rem.”

He smiles shyly at you and it thrills you whenever you get this reaction out of him. 

Remus doesn’t respond and instead places a kiss on your lips. He tastes of toothpaste and his chapstick and you hum approvingly. You then tuck your head into the crook of his neck and sigh contentedly. Your boyfriend begins to rub soothing strokes up and down your back slowly and within no time at all, you’re succumbing to sleep. 

“Night, Remmy,” you mutter sleepily.

“Goodnight, dove.”

[hard-core-super-star]

bare your soul 'til it's naked [C.Danvers]

pairing: sub!carol danvers x dom!reader

summary: you and carol experiment with switching up your usual roles and accidentally discover something new.

warnings: SMUT -> minors, don't look [porn with feelings; bondage; strap-on sex; an exploration of carol's submissive side; strapwarming; a dash of denial; carol's praise kink goes brr; captain kink because duh]

wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: no, i didn't disappear for like all of november, what are you talking about?? anywho, this happened and...i have no reason or explanation for it lmao. also, i'm not even going to pretend to be an expert on dom/sub dynamics but just labeling carol as a bottom felt wrong considering the more...intense route this took. ANYWAY, usual,"this is my first time writing for this character, please give me validation if you liked it," warning applies.

* * * * * * *

It had started as a joke.

You had told Carol how unfair it was that her superhuman abilities always led to her overpowering you after she had effortlessly picked you up and plopped you down onto the couch to stop you from washing the dishes. It had been an almost nonsensical joke that the blonde took a little too seriously. 

It’s not something that genuinely bothers you, in fact, you love how quick Carol always is to pick you up and carry you everywhere. However, you had mentioned how much you’d love to have a turn at being in charge for once and your girlfriend took it upon herself to give you exactly what you wanted. (Like usual) 

You weren’t sure why she was so dead set on doing this, especially considering how much she loves having the upper hand all the time, and yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell her to change her mind. Mainly because you’d have to be an actual fool to deny her anything but also because there’s been a look in her eyes that you can’t quite decipher that was born from the mere thought of switching roles for once.

So, your one meaningless joke had earned you a sight you’d never thought you’d see: Carol Danvers naked and bound on your bed.

It should be ridiculous. She’s a goddamn superhero, for crying out loud, she could easily rip apart those ropes like nothing. And yet…she remains motionless. You’d go far enough to call her stoic if it weren’t for the smirk she hasn’t yet wiped off of her face.

You both know the massive amounts of power she holds inside herself and she still chooses to pretend. To give in to the fantasy. To act like you truly hold all the cards when she’s the one with literal superpowers. 

Your girlfriend huffs as she watches you admire her toned body and the intricate knots that hold her in place. She’s been sitting in the same position for what feels like hours, with her hands tied around her back and her legs spread open, showing off the strap attached to her hips.

“You gonna do something or just stare?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” you reply, shamelessly staring at her jawline while she throws her head back and groans.

“I’m going to lose my mind if you don’t touch me right now.”

You’re tempted to just walk away like she’s done to you countless times but you have other, more important, ideas on your mind. 

You approach her in two quick steps, smiling at the way her eyes literally light up before tangling your fingers in her blonde hair and gently pulling. You’re rewarded with the sound of her gasp and you can practically see the way her veins pop out as she clenches her fists. 

“I think you’re forgetting our deal, Captain,” you whisper. “I’m in charge, you just have to sit there and behave.”

She lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of seconds. You don't know if it's the hair-pulling or the use of the title that affects her so much but it’s obvious her reluctance melts away in an instant…which means your need to have her begging for you increases tenfold in that same instant.

“Are you going to need a reminder, baby?”

A long second of silence goes by before your girlfriend gives in. You’re more than willing to wait for her, especially once her eyes open again and you’re able to make out the specks of bliss that make her eyes sparkle more than usual. “No…I’ll behave.”

“Good girl,” you hum.

The whine that escapes her doesn’t reach your ears but the way her hips buck is more than noticeable and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out and wrapping your hand around the large toy. The fact that it’s fake doesn’t stop Carol from thrusting into your hand and she looks far too good for you to even think about making her stop.

That doesn’t mean you’re not going to tease her, though.

“Are you needy already, babe? I haven’t even done anything.”

“Maybe that’s why,” she replies, attempting to hold on to some of her usual snarkiness.

Something that would be more effective if she wasn’t bucking her hips in search of some friction. 

The calm and controlled persona she so easily wears out on the field starts to slip and with it comes the barrage of thoughts that never allow her to give up control. It’s subtle but the sparkle in her eyes can’t erase the furrowing of her eyebrows or the tension in her muscles. 

That desperation that makes her thrust up into your hand isn’t unfamiliar. Her need to give in to it is.

So, you do the only thing you know will help her focus on the moment instead of on her unspoken fears. 

“Carol.” Her name leaves your lips as a mere whisper, the grip you have on her hair loosening just enough for the change to register in her unfocused mind.

She takes a deep breath before lifting her eyes up to look at you. You expect her to pull the plug on this whole thing, to put her walls back up and call it a day, but she doesn't. She does the exact opposite and leaves your mind spinning in the process.

“I need you.” The hushed tone she speaks in does nothing to hide her desperation. It’s not the kind you’re used to, though. It’s less about the physical and more about the emotional. It’s about the stability she’s always looked for but has never found in all the countless planets she’s visited. 

The only place she’s found it in all her life is with you.

The second the thought enters your mind, you climb onto her lap, momentarily forgetting about the new dynamic you're forging and merely focusing on your vulnerable girlfriend. Despite your urge to help ground her, you can’t help but notice the way her hips instantly buck once again.

You still decide to wait, though, much to the blonde’s dismay.

“What do you need from me, Captain?”

“Need you…” She trails off and you half expect that to be the end of it until she continues a second later. “Need you to own me…use me…please.”

There’s no doubt in your mind of the strength it took for her to get the words out which only adds fuel to the fire burning in your core. A fire made up of desire, trust, and so much lust it could fill a small planet.

“As you wish,” you mumble before finally giving both of you what you really want.

Carol’s eyes watch you closely while you grip the toy attached to her hips and slowly tease your entrance with it. She technically can’t feel anything yet but she still takes every second in, rotating her hips in an attempt to bring you as much pleasure as she can.

You leave the dildo soaked in less than a minute and the sight of your girlfriend’s abs contracting with every movement does nothing to satisfy your growing desire. Your body shifts until you’re hovering over Carol’s dark blue strap, pretending like you can’t see the way she attempts to slam herself inside your already fluttering walls.

“You wanna fill me up, Captain? Is that what my good girl wants?”

It’s like a switch is instantly flipped inside her brain. Like everything else disappears until she’s left hanging onto your every word. She’s never been like this with someone else, much less felt like this. Felt such an intense devotion that she genuinely longs to submit to every one of your wishes and commands.

You could tell her to jump and she’d leap into the air without a second thought, ropes be damned.

She nods rapidly. “Yes! Yes, I want to fill you up so bad. Please, y/n.”

“If only your little Avengers friends could see you now, all tied up and desperate for me…” You trail off as you sink down onto her, relishing in the unashamed moans she can’t hold back.

You know how much she loves fucking you in this position and you also know how crazy it’s making her that she can’t control your speed. She can’t control anything in this moment. Not the speed of your movements, not the sounds she makes, not the unrelenting bucking of her hips.

The power rests in your hands despite how much of it runs through her veins.

“Fuck-” Your groan brings her back to reality. “You’re so good for me.”

Carol stares at you with wide eyes, plump lips parted just enough to allow all her sinful sounds to slip out unrestricted. Her entire world revolves around you, around the pleasure only she can give you…even when she's not allowed to touch you.

It would be so easy for her to break free, you both know that, and yet somehow, her choosing to remain trapped beneath you makes everything feel ten times stronger than usual. 

Maybe that's what makes the coil in your stomach tighten faster than usual or maybe it's the way the blonde can't stop herself from messily thrusting up into your drenched cunt and burying her strap inside of you.

You’re both lost in each other, your nails digging into her shoulder in search of some stability while she works tirelessly to bring you to new heights. Heights she couldn’t even dream of reaching despite her love for flying.

“y/n,” she mumbles. “Please, I want- I need you.”

“Yeah? You wanna cum already, Captain?”

She shakes her head, the thinnest layer of tears gathering in her stormy eyes. “No, I want to make you cum. Please, can I?”

The mere question has you clenching around the toy but it’s the devoted look that’s plastered onto her face that makes you fall apart. For that brief moment, she’s not Captain Marvel, she’s not an Avenger, she’s just the woman you love more than anything else in the universe, the woman who loves you enough to trust you like this.

You fall over the edge without warning which triggers an avalanche of feelings inside Carol. The two of you slump into each other in a mess of shaking limbs and hoarse voices that cry out the other’s name.

It’s messy and loud and perfect.

It’s unclear how much time you both spend in the throes of your powerful orgasms but when you finally come back to yourself, you find your girlfriend’s face buried into the crook of your neck, trails of salty tears staining her warm cheeks. It takes you another second to realize what she’s mumbling but the second the words register, all your worry melts away.

“I love you-” It comes out more like a broken sob than a beautiful confession but you don’t mind. 

You gently run your fingers through her messy hair, silently watching the shudders that your affection creates. “I love you too. You’re perfect, Carol.”

She doesn’t reply but she also doesn’t argue. She just stays in your arms, basking in the feeling of being loved.

Of finally being home.

[wrathofrats]

Seeing blind (you’re too good to be all mine)

Chapter 3! 3k, Teen audiences, no warnings apply

(Part 1) (part 2) (as always thank you to my cowriter @divine-misfortune)

Read under the cut, or on ao3!

“Well the others are having a bonfire tonight, wanted to know if you wanted to come with me”

Rain hesitates for a second. It’s more than they’ve done, it’s actually going off the property together instead of their usual sneaking around the grounds. Besides, do the others even like him? Most he’s never spoken more than a couple words to but-

“Oh, actually I don’t know. Wouldn’t want you to get dirt on your gown play with the peasants, princess”

Rain gasps, shoving him lightly

“I’m fucking going”

“Rainy, gotta get up” Swiss shakes rain awake.

It’s early. Swiss knows the time he usually gets here by feel alone, leaving his apartment before the sun is up and stepping outside onto the gravel right as it starts getting bright.

Rain yawns in his arms, pushing away a bit with a lingering shame from sleeping on his chest last night.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Rain asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes,

Swiss has to lie, he can’t tell rain the real reason he couldn’t sleep and he would feel bad about it for no reason anyways.

“Of course I slept like a baby with you in my arms, but you better get inside fast before you dad comes back, just saw him behind the silo”

Rain rolls his eyes with a halfhearted shove to Swiss’ chest. He tries to hurry down the ladder, looking both ways across the yard and making a mad dash to run back inside.

Swiss knows he will be chewed out later. He hasn’t changed, looks like a mess and by now he’s probably considered late even if he hasn’t clocked in yet. It’s worth it for rain though.

Swiss keeps a couple spare blankets in his truck after that night.

Rain can’t keep himself away. Sure the loft is a thousand times more uncomfortable than his own bed but he has to admit that he hasn’t slept that good in weeks. He knows Swiss didn’t sleep, evident by the bags under his eyes and tired smile he had in the morning. Rain doesn’t want to keep Swiss up that late again, but he wouldn’t complain if it happened by accident another time or two.

Their usual game continues. Rain hanging around the barn too much with a flirty lilt to his voice while Swiss acts like he has no clue why rains there even if he does. It still puts butterflies in rain tummy to see him. They’ve kissed, they’ve spent the night together but those big brown eyes have him weak in the knees.

“Meet me at my truck at sun down ok?” Swiss says low in rains ear one day as he walks by to feed the cows. It’s quick and Swiss has disappeared onto his next task before rain can stop him and ask why. He will do it anyways, of course he will.

The day goes by slower than rain had hoped. Looking at the sun every couple of minutes and hoping it sets faster and faster but the anxiety only prolongs the time that it feels rain is waiting. The sky turns a pretty orange and pink as rain sits in his day bed by the window, reading. The perfect sign that it’s time to go.

He throws on his boots and heads down the stairs. If he can get outside before his dad comes back he won’t have to explain anything. Rain stops to grab an apple from the kitchen, knowing Swiss probably hasn’t eaten since noon.

The sky darkens into a pretty dusk with a cool breeze that smells like nothing but Autumn. Swiss is leaning on his truck when he approaches, watching the small sparkling dots start to appear as it continues to get darker.

“Hi tadpole, glad you made it” Swiss wraps his arms around rain from behind, earning a small giggle as he sways with him.

“What did you need me for?”

“Wanted to show you something” Swiss holds out his hand, motioning for rain to hop in the bed of his truck “just get in for me”

Rain steps up with a struggle, Swiss grabbing his waist instinctively to hold him steady and get him in. He tries not to linger on it but the blush that spreads across his cheeks instantly gives him away. If Swiss notices though, he doesn’t say anything, more focused on laying his spare blankets down for them to lay on.

“And what is it you’re showing me?” Rain snuggles into Swiss’ side. His head lays by his shoulder with Swiss’ arm around him, he continues to stare up at the sky, pointing at a group of stars.

“Do you see that v?” He traces a shape into the air, “and the little, like, circle at the end of it?”

Rain squints, trying to follow his finger.

“I think so?”

“That’s Pisces, the fish constellation” Swiss says, fascinated by how bright they get out in the country.

“Doesn’t look like a fish to me” rain says, still squinting and trying to make out the image in the sky

“Well, it’s not exactly supposed to. It just is.” Swiss laughs “and that orange dot on the border? That’s Jupiter. You can’t see it from my apartment with the light pollution, but here? It’s beautiful”

Rain had never seen Swiss so enamored before, a sparkle of wonder in his eye like a child with his first telescope. He traced another shape, some kind of cup, or a U. Thinking quietly to himself.

“And why did you show me that one?” Rain asked after a second.

“Well you’re my little fishy, tadpole. Thought it was only appropriate.”

Rain mumbles a shut up before going back to watching him trace shapes. He did have to admit that the sky was beautiful. An inky blackness full of dots of light and he could honestly sit here and listen to Swiss talk about it for hours if he was able to.

It starts to become more apparent that maybe Swiss really is a bad influence on him.

Rains sneaking out a lot more, staying out late to skip back inside before the sun comes up but other times he’s too caught up in Swiss to want to leave.

He can never bring himself to pull out of his arms, though he refuses to say that out loud. A part of him worries that Swiss is merely… amused by him and nothing else, and that’s why he has to dive headfirst into whatever they have going on. To him it may be entertainment and meaningless but rain has regretfully caught feelings.

Swiss doesn’t fare any better in his own doubts. He wants to love him, be by him every second of the day but there’s a fear hes going to scare rain off. He’s going to get too attached and rain will leave.

The best they can do is just stick around and hope the other doesn’t run.

Rain lingers outside more on Fridays.

The weekend is always bleak. Rain takes up the necessary daily tasks that can’t be left undone while he waits for Swiss to return. Even just not having the presence of any of the other workers makes it boring. Rain enjoys seeing dew and cirrus mess with each other as they work, or mountain picking phantom up to reach high things. It adds life where it’s otherwise just dirty and yellow in rains eyes.

He waits by the barn more just to get more glimpses of Swiss before he has to be without him for two days. It isn’t a lot in the grand scheme of things but to a love sick rain it always feels like he may never return.

“And what’s a pretty little thing like you doing tonight” Swiss leans against the wood with his arms crossed. Rain scoffs at his boldness, rolling his eyes.

“Well I’d say it depends on who’s asking”

“And what if it’s me who’s asking?”

“Well then I guess I’m free, maybe” rain taunts. Swiss steps closer to him to grab his hands and swing them together.

“Well the others are having a bonfire tonight, wanted to know if you wanted to come with me”

Rain hesitates for a second. It’s more than they’ve done, it’s actually going off the property together instead of their usual sneaking around the grounds. Besides, do the others even like him? Most he’s never spoken more than a couple words to but-

“Oh, actually I don’t know. Wouldn’t want you to get dirt on your gown play with the peasants, princess”

Rain gasps, shoving him lightly

“I’m fucking going”

His truck is parked far past the field and into the large gravel plot that a couple storage buildings sat on so nobody could hear his awful muffler. It meant rain had walk a bit further on his own, glancing at his watch periodically. Home before 5, and he would be in the clear.

Swiss’ truck was warm and smelled like hay and tobacco and the worn leather of his coat, mixed with the cheap cologne that he tended to wear. There was no center console in the truck. Just a long bench with an old rosary hanging from the mirror. Swiss plays an old cassette as they drive. It’s a lot of old rock and country and it’s so very him. Rain thinks his heart may burst right out of his chest, especially when he sings softly to the music. His voice is like silk and as sweet as honey and he wants to live in it forever. Honestly he tries not to stare but he’s not very good at it.

Swiss keeps seeing Rain's hand resting on the seat and he wants to reach for it but dutifully keeps his hands on the wheel

They drive up to a small house and park on the lawn, driving slightly back behind and out of the light of the street lamps. A small fire flickered nearby with a couple of beat up lawn chairs in a circle around it.

He opens the door to shocked faces. Never in the other workers lives did they expect Swiss to bring rain to one of their hang outs. They thought he wasn’t allowed off of the property, let alone be with them.

“Get locked out of your tower princess? Maybe someone can throw down their hair for you” dew calls once the initial shock wears off.

“Oh fuck off you’re only mad you’re shorter than him” Swiss called, grabbing his own chairs from the bed of his truck. There was a bit of protectiveness and possession to his voice that has rain frozen, biting his lip as he waits for Swiss to set up the chairs.

Rain attempts to sink into his chair. He feels shy, out of place, because the others are staring at him like he’s some kind of alien creature. But Swiss has his arm around him and he’s warm and smells nice, so he will be ok for a bit.

“Keep this warm for me tadpole, Coke or a beer?” Swiss shrugs off his flannel and throws it over rain’s shoulders as he squats beside him, waiting for an answer.

“Um” rain looks around to the various drinks in everyone else’s hands, mostly alcohol, “beer please”

Swiss slinks off into the house. Rain draws the flannel tighter around him, breathing in his scent. Rain could get used to that cheap cologne he thinks, especially if he plans on keeping the flannel forever, but he’d never tell Swiss that.

A cold glass bottle is placed in his hands once Swiss comes back. He throws rain his keys giving him an expectant look.

“Go ahead rainy, use that old silver one”

“Use it for what?” Rain holds them up, confused

“Oh my god he doesn’t know how to open a bottle” dew barks out a laugh “Swiss give that poor kid your Coke, Christ!”

Swiss grabs the bottle from rains hands, swiftly using his keys to pop it open with a smile.

“I’m driving you irresponsible idiot” Swiss rolls his eyes “besides, I wouldn’t be fucking talking considering mountain has to open yours because otherwise you do it with your teeth”

Dew yells back something that Swiss blocks out. He’s stupid, yes he’s his best friend but god he can be an obnoxious idiot. He turns to see if rain is ok, and is enamored. He looks pretty in the glow of the fire. The music is loud and the fire is roaring and Swiss has never wanted him to be here more.

Rain takes a sip of his beer, scrunching his nose at the taste. It’s bitter and rain doesn’t know if he can finish it but he keeps taking small sips anyways just so he doesn’t look like even more of a loser. Swiss absolutely notices, the tell tale sign of someone’s first beer and he knows he hates it, but it’s funny to watch him try.

It’s still early in the night. Phantom keeps asking mountain to identify different trees in the dark while mountain sighs and keeps the lightweight entertained. Dew and cirrus argue over god knows what, probably some game they caught earlier in the day.

Swiss randomly grabs rains beer from his hands, taking large swigs when he thinks no one will notice. He wants to help him finish it, doesn’t want to embarrass him. For Swiss he knows it won’t affect him at all but he doesn’t want to see rain keep having to try and choke it down. Besides, he will sneak him a water later when he gets up to get another Coke.

The fire crackles and dims a bit as everyone mingles within themselves. Rain fidgets with his hands, stil awkward like he’s doesn’t exactly know how to conduct himself in a crowd of strangers, especially ones that assume he looks down upon them. He wraps his fists in the sleeves of Swiss’ flannel, playing with the buttons. Swiss swoons, secretly hoping it’ll smell like him whenever he gets it back. If he gets it back.

“Excuse me” rain whispers, getting up and heading inside for a moment. Dew stares at the door until it closes, getting up to walk towards Swiss.

“Why the fuck would you bring him?” Dew hisses, getting in Swiss’s face with a finger on his chest.

“What’s your problem? He’s cool I promise”

“Oh yeah sure and when he tells on us when we’re all hungover tomorrow you’ll be the one to find us all new jobs” dew tries not to turn completely red with anger. A mix of alcohol and fear and exasperation for Swiss’ actions.

“He’s not like that, he won’t sell us out” Swiss sighs. He hasn’t said a word about them so far, hell he hates his dads rules more than anyone, why would he care if the rest of them broke them? He’s never been the warmest, so it’s only fair they’re wary, even if it doesn’t feel great.

“He’s a spy, a sell out. This is just some weird plan to make sure we are doing our work I’m sure of it”

Mountain gives a sympathetic glance to Swiss. He knows him better, the look in his eyes around rain and the fact that he gave him his favorite flannel, he knows.

“Drop it dew. If it comes to that then we will worry about it then” mountain calls.

“Mark my fucking words army knife”

Rain soon comes back, feelings the new settled tension between everyone. Cirrus and phantom avoid looking at him while dews gaze only harshens. Mountain at least offers him a polite smile.

“We should get going rain, it’s late” Swiss says gently, folding up his chair.

They pack up quickly and ride in mostly silence on the way home. Rain feels bad, clearly something happened but he doesn’t know how to ask, and Swiss doesn’t know how to admit that they seem to hate him.

It’s not important, at least for now. Swiss parks far away in the gravel so the headlights don’t shine through the windows and rain makes no move to get out. The crummy old cassette plays a song that’s more static than music.

The silence doesn’t feel as bad the longer they sit, stealing small glances at each other. Their eyes meet accidentally, making them both laugh nervously.

The click of rains seatbelt makes Swiss jump, his heart falling a little because of the realization that the night is actually over now. Rain shifts to turn towards him.

He’s adorable. Flannel a little too big and sliding off his shoulders, his hair messy and the moon catches the sharp angles of his face just right.

“Not even a kiss goodnight? Thought you were a gentleman” rain laughs, trying to tease and almost ask for what he wants outright. They haven’t truly kissed again since the night in the barn, only a couple pecks on the cheek here and there.

“Well you gotta come here then tadpole” Swiss leans over the bench, placing a small peck on his lips and rain just looks disappointed when they part.

He needs a little more, his skin feels itchy whenever he and Swiss get close because god he wants to kiss him again and again and again-

Rain furrows his brow, just looking at him.

“You look disappointed rainy”

“I’m not, I just thought….”

Swiss smiled, grabs him by the collar and drags him in for another one. A proper kiss, just a little desperate until they’re both breathless and heaving into each other space. Rains lips are kissed a pretty red and a little plump and god Swiss is just

In love with him.

“Is that an ok goodnight princess?”

“Of course it is”

And with that, rain hops out of the car and sneaks back inside. Swiss stays for a second to make sure he gets in alright, he doesn’t comment about his flannel.

Rain doesn’t even realize he still has it until he’s back in his room. He closes his door quietly and leans back against it, trying to remember how to breathe properly and it’s hard because he can still smell Swiss. That’s when he looks down, realizing he accidentally stole his flannel. He truly didn’t mean to wander off with it.

He tells himself he will wash it and return it because it’s only polite, but he’s already climbing into his bed with it before the thought finishes.

Rain doesn’t sleep until well after the sun is up because his head just swims. Trying to pick every second apart. Was it more than what he thought it was? Was Swiss just indulging in him?

He likes him a lot. He hopes and prays this isn’t some stupid fling and Swiss is secretly just messing with him and rain doesn’t even know how to bring it up without sounding like a love sick idiot.

He needs to be more careful anyways. They can’t be around each other that much because they’ve been more than careless and honestly they’ve been lucky they haven’t been caught.

There’s a small part of rain that wakes up to Swiss’ scent and realizes he’s not next to him, he feels like an idiot for even imagining.

[c0smiclatt3]

GEPARD LANDAU: Devotion. - part 2.

(a royal au!) after your uncle's betrayal and assassination, your father takes his place as king, thrusting you in the public eye as the crown princess. as you leave your days of dreaming behind you, you zero in on your duty: to earn your citizens' trust, to restore your family's tarnished reputation, to elevate your kingdom to the place where it once was through a political marriage. but as the days loom nearer, your bodyguard is torn between his duty to your kingdom and duty to your happiness as he realizes - this isn't what you really want. (part 1)

☾₊ ⊹ TAGS: royal!au, fem reader, bodyguard gepard, friends to lovers, unwanted arranged marriage trope, descriptions of war/violence, 16+

Since your earliest memories living in your family's estate, you have always been attended to: the maids and butlers often followed you, huffing and puffing as they tried to keep up with you and your insatiable need to drink in the world. Yes, those days were filled with warmth: the cook sneaking you an extra cookie, a butler lifting you on his shoulders to help you reach a book, your little fingernails crusted with dirt as you helped the gardener pull weeds (and the subsequent tutting of the maid as she soaked your hands in a bowl, stern but patient nonetheless as she scrubbed them through).

But your best days by far were the days when you rose from your pillow groggy and grumbling, when the maids exchanged a knowing look between themselves and tapped on your shoulder: "My lady, it seems we are out of milk. Would you care to accompany us into town?"

You would promptly scarf down your plate in a manner that would have had you chastised by your mother, swing your legs off the chair and dash upstairs, and you were throwing yourself into the carriage quicker than the maids could yell "slow down, my lady!" You'd return home that afternoon, asleep in a maid's lap, her fingers gently combing through your hair, and your belly full of sweets.

You were waited on, most certainly, but even so, you loved those who attended to you as much as they loved you, their names and gentle smiles etched into your mind forever.

Because you couldn't bear to remember their tears.

When you learned that their duty was bound to the grounds, that servants were servants of the land and didn't follow their masters to their new residences, you tried to take it with grace. You stood on the veranda steps, facing them as they stood in a line. The moment you stepped off these grounds you were a princess. But standing in front of them, you were just their little girl. Your eyes felt hot and your throat burned. They knew you well enough by then to know why.

Your father shuts the carriage door, leaving you and the estate staff a moment alone. A gentle breeze. The birds sing a farewell in the trees.

"Your highness-"

You didn't let her finish her sentence. You barrelled straight into her arms and cried like you were just a kid. "Please," you sob, "please don't call me that... Not yet," you squeeze. "Just a moment longer." The butlers and cooks, the maids and the groundskeepers, embraced you like they bid their own child farewell.

The carriage pulls away. You watch their figures disappear into the horizon. You wonder if this is why babies used their first breaths to weep and kick and scream as they are torn from their mother's wombs.

From the moment you stepped into the palace, you were greeted with the reverence befitting of a princess. "Your highness," the butler bowed his head as he opened your carriage door. "Your highness," the line of maids murmured as you ascended up the steps. Your items were brought in your room before you even made it to the top of the steps, as if whisked away by winds themselves at your command. You opened your room door to see them already stacked neatly by your bed, a maid standing by.

"Oh, thank you-" you offer a warm smile, but she seems to jolt as she hears your voice behind her and scurries away before you can meet her eyes.

This sort of politeness, deference, - whatever you may call it - coloured your day from sunrise to sunset. Your servants looked at you trembling, as if one misstep could send them straight to the gallows. Your attempts at conversation were seen as trials, your smiles as mercy, before they hurried away like they always did.

True to his word, Gepard tailed you like a shadow, like a ghost. He was a spectral presence in your life, standing at attention when you opened your door, by the dining hall doors during your meals, outside the study while you read.

"Captain," you asked quietly one afternoon as he watched you eat your meal, "are you sure you wouldn't like any?"

No words. Only a sharp shake of his head.

One morning you sit by the windowsill, gazing at the garden grounds down below. "It's a beautiful morning, Captain."

He nods his head.

It seemed that his, like every other staff member under this roof's, goal was to fade from your life as much as possible and going outdoors as the new princess was out of the question.

You grew lonely. Horribly, suffocatingly, achingly lonely.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You live for the nation, you die by the nation. That is what Gepard had drilled into his head from the moment he took his soldier's oath. In all the hours spent since his early youth, steel slashing against straw dummies, sparring with his comrades, memorizing just the right angle to kick an opponent, this is what he knew. Those words prepared you to be a soldier: one among a million, marching in mechanical synchrony, the flag raised proud above the infantry.

They did not prepare you to go from kissing your younger sister goodnight to watching your comrade, sent too young into the battlefield, die in your arms. They did not prepare you to go from affectionately ruffled hair and 'good jobs' to watching life bubble from your mentor's lips as you plead for him to stay.

They did not prepare you to be fifteen years old and watching a unit of men raise their heads to you, bowing their heads as they fell to their knees. "The captain has died in a mutiny. Awaiting orders, Captain Gepard Landau."

Gepard Landau was a soldier. Gepard Landau was the captain. At a certain point a soldier must learn to clear his head. Empty his heart and take up his sword. His body was a vessel to carry out the will of the crown.

He returned from the war with his gaze distant, his mind clear, and his heart still. He hadn't so much as smiled since he returned. Not when he was adorned with the captain's crest in front of the whole kingdom. Not when the army paraded through the streets, the children beaming up at him and the civilians gratefully shaking his hand. Not when he was assigned a post as the royal bodyguard, one of the highest responsibilities and honours. He moved through his days like a ghost.

Stand back. Stand guard. Stand by.

But Gepard Landau was no fool. And maybe that was why he felt the slightest bit guilty for his impassiveness as he stood and watched the princess standing, a somber expression on her face as she stared down at the garden rose bushes.

Gepard had met her in the spring and soon spring had bloomed to summer. Those days passed just as well as they could have for a soldier freshly returned from a war and immediately appointed captain. They passed like an incoherent blur.

As grateful was he was, the bodyguard position was not the most exciting one, but it was a welcome change of pace after the war. Most days he stood, that empty expression on his face as he tried to clear his head, the princess doing whatever it was she pleased, he supposed.

At times his silences would be interrupted by her occasional questions, to which he mostly responded with a polite shake of his head. A quick nod. If he was being honest, most times he wasn't even paying attention to what she had been asking at all.

He knew little about her despite being the person who spent the most time around her. When asked by the maids what her preferred colour was for her dresses he gave no answer and they blinked incredulously. When asked by the cooks what sorts of dishes she may appreciate he only shrugged. He paid little attention, his mind always elsewhere, and maybe that was why he didn't notice it sooner.

It was a hot summer's day, the kind that wasn't agreeable with the soldiers' uniform. When stepping outside, Gepard wore his helmet like he was meant to: his face out in the open air was a dangerously appealing target, and seasoned soldiers took no chances. Under the beating sun's heat he felt properly boiled in his suit of armor, but he had experienced far worse before. He stood tall, following the princess as she seemed to float around the garden, some faraway look on her face. Then she stopped, turning away from him, facing down at a rosebush, and she didn’t move for a long time.

Gepard half wonders if he should say something, but the words didn't come to him. He knew to speak with his fists. He was fluent in the exchange of punches. The whistle of an arrow. Gepard didn't break silences, he drew them out give him a chance to strike.

But there she stood, her dress fluttering in the summer breeze as if it may just carry her away, as if she wanted it to. Her hands fell to her sides, shoulders sagging.

She crouches there by the rosebush, but rather than lifting her face to the roses she dips her hands into the earth, the dirt sifting over and through her fingers. He watches her eyes close as she exhales. With her posture and her skirt deflated like that, crumpled to the ground, she almost looks like a trampled flower.

She stays there, as if rooted to the earth through her fingertips. Like she would crumble and stay there and the wind would grind her to dust.

She finally turns and looks back at him, expression unreadable. Distant. Through his helmet, he looks back at her. He curses it's limited visibility because for a moment he wonders if he can see a single tear roll down her cheek. Her lips pull into a tight line and she marches over, her feet beating steadily on the grass.

She raises a hand. For a moment her gaze is so intense he wonders if she's going to hit him.

She yanks his helmet off.

He looks down at her, head freed from the confines of his helmet, the open air hitting him like the relief of rising to the water's surface. His hair falls in his face. His cheeks are warm - from the humidity in the helmet, he was sure.

She looks at him, eyes looking at him like she was searching desperately for something there. His eyes flicker to her lip, which trembles. A pause. A breeze. She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut, turning around, her jaw tight.

"It's hot. Take that damned thing off."

Her words are far from ladylike but she doesn't seem to care. The helmet falls from her hand to the grass with a soft thud. She turns and trudges away, wiping furiously at her face.

Once, just this once, Gepard decides to disobey his orders and let her be.

writing masterlist | bot masterlist

☾₊ ⊹ AN: i realized i never made a taglist for this fic eeee if you want to be added to the taglist please lmk by dropping a comment asking to be added/an ask with your username but for now i just tagged people who had a positive response to the last post so i really hope this doesn't bother u T_T i won't tag any of you next time unless you explicitly leave an ask/comment/tag asking to be put on the taglist i just wasn't sure if you wanted to see part 2 since you seemed to like part 1 slkdjfksdjfksdj anyways! i uh hope you liked this part it's a lot of backstory i know i know

taglist: @kur0melon @our-turn @dear-purin

[mrs-barnes-rogers-writes]

A Second Chance Is A Better Chance - Part 13

Marvel AU

Pairing: Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Witch Reader, eventual ? x Omega Witch Reader and Alpha Steve Rogers X Omega Witch Reader

Summary: Rejected by your true mate at 21, you’ve given up on the Fates and the Moon Goddesses giving you a second chance. Being a Roamer for the last 9 years, you’re an Omega hardened by the world. You’re safe on your own because of your witchcraft, but it doesn’t stop Alphas and plenty of others sniffing around, especially when you’re an unmated Omega witch, who’s wolf also happens to be white, the rarest kind. You don’t need anyone, but why do you keep coming back to Brookville and why do you keep walking into trouble and helping people that you don’t know but for some strange reason feel like family. And where is that smell of apple pie coming from?

Series Warnings: A/B/O, eventual smut, violence in parts, witchcraft, shapeshifters

Chapter Summary: Have you survived the fight and fall?

Chapter Warnings: Witchcraft

Pain. That was what you felt first. Then a hum of voices, like you were underwater. Familiar scents dashed around your nose. Your cloak was pulled firmly around you and you felt yourself rise from the floor. Were there arms around you? Shouts and gruff voices, and a hand in yours, whooshing of brooms, then silence again.

Later, beeping and harsh lights, shouts of an argument and your name and then darkness.

Then there’s something on top of you, blankets you think and the smell of lavender, as whispers of spells haunt your dreams. Then it’s dark again.

You’re not sure how long has passed when you fully start to wake. You don’t know where you are but you know that you’re safe. Scents of Frank, Billy and the pack fill the room, with a hint of Storm, Jean and Logan mixed in. You’re sure Fiona’s mixed in there too but her scent's different somehow.

You hear Frank and Billy’s voices and slowly begin to open your eyes. Frank and Billy. Your Frank and Billy. Your Frankie and Billy Boy? Your Alpha and Beta? Could they be? They weren’t your second chance, not officially but did that matter? Did anything else really matter anymore? As long as you could be happy together, that would be ok right? Billy had saved your life during the fight and you’d saved his in return. You’d all saved each other over and over. This could work right? You needed to wake up and speak to your boys. You tried to force yourself awake as you began to listen to their hushed conversation.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” Frank asked.

Billy nodded in reply.

“Elektra mentioned when you were hit with that spell, y/n, she told you to think of something good.”

Billy nodded again

“What’d you think of?”

Billy let out a sigh.

“Not what you’re guessing.”

Frank pointed at you, layng in the hospital bed.

“A little.”

“Maria?”

Billy nodded a single tear running down his face.

“Hey, come on now.” Frank replied throwing an arm around him.

“I’m such an asshole.”

“Bill.”

“Listen” Billy replied getting more upset, “she’s saving my life, I’m laying there because I took my eyes off what I should have been doing, to fucking flirt with her, in a battle zone, and I’m laying there and she’s saying think of something, think of something good, and for a second I thought of her. I swear I did Frankie, and then I was choking on that stuff and even as she’s saving me, she disappeared and it was Maria. It was her and the little ones and….”

Billy began to sob and Frank held him tightly. Glancing at you Frank had a realisation. As much as he loved you, as much as he adored you, as much as he appreciated you and everything you’d done for his pack, and as much as he was drawn to you, you would never be his. Or Billy’s. They could never love you as much as they had loved Maria. It wasn’t fair to keep hold of you. It wasn’t fair to hold you back.

Frank would burn the world down for you and so would Billy, but you weren’t their second chance and the more Frank thought about it, he knew they wouldn’t get one. Maria had been it for the them. Billy hadn’t even had that long with her but she was it for him too.

“I don’t want to let her go Frankie but we have to don’t we?” he sniffed.

“Yeah bud, we do.”

Frank continued to hold Billy as he sniffled, not noticing the single tear that ran down your face.

Maybe Agatha was right, maybe nobody would ever want you.

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

Comment to go on the taglist!!!

@animegirlgeeky @jvanilly @slut4srogers

[starhvney]

can you write an aphmau x fem!reader fic? maybe the two of them cuddling while playing games or watching anime?

𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: pdh aphmau & fem!reader, ft. sylvanna

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: as childhood friends finally reunited, aphmau excitedly invited you over for a first sleepover

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, platonic, slice of life, drabble

𝐂𝐖: none

𝐀/𝐍: this prompt made me think about aphmau and reader’s relationship in the multichapter fic i’m working on, so i set it in pdh when they become close friends. it’s also a short drabble compared to my other fics, i hope you don’t mind! i tried my best and my brain just wouldn’t brain this week. speaking of the multichap fic, maybe i should release the first chapter soon as a teaser…

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

it was only three seconds after you knocked on the front door that it flew open and your petite friend threw herself onto you in a tight hug.

“you’re here!” aphmau squealed, her voice almost nearing a shout in excitement.

you can’t help but return the gesture, giggling and hugging her back. she leads you into the house by both of your hands, her bright amber eyes sparkling as the two of you enter the kitchen. the delicious smell of seasoned meat, cooked tortillas, and lime juice hits your nose, making your mouth water instantly.

by the stove is sylvanna, her black hair tied up to reveal the small grey streak running from the side of her hairline. as she focuses on taking the freshly heated tortillas off the stove, you watch her side profile that nearly perfectly reflected the image of your friend. if it weren’t for her matured features and slightly taller stature, you might’ve mistaken her for aphmau herself. you step further in the kitchen and she turns to greet you, her warm brown eyes crinkling and eyebrows raising as she smiles at your arrival.

“ah, hi mija! i made you and aphmau some carnitas and rice for dinner. are you hungry?” she wipes her hands on the kitchen towel before coming over to you and wrapping you in a hug.

“yes ma’am, that sounds delicious. thank you.” you reply, eyes drawn to the appetizing food on the counter.

“oh, you know there’s no need to call me that. sylvanna is just fine. ma’am makes me feel too old.” she winks at you, before eagerly guiding you to grab a plate.

the three of you make quick work of the tacos, the meat practically melting in your mouth. after thanking sylvanna again, aphmau and you dash upstairs to her room, flopping onto her bed.

“i’m so excited,” she hugs onto her pillow. “but um…i’ve never had a sleepover before. what do you want to do?”

“whatever you want. do you want to play video games or watch a show or something?”

her face lights up at your suggestion, her hands reaching out to grab your shoulders.

“why don’t we build a fort and do both. we can play games and use my computer to watch an anime.” she leans forward, round eyes widening as if she had just solved a mysterious cold case.

you grab her shoulders back, nodding and smiling wide at her contagious enthusiasm once again. she quickly jumps off of her bed, opening her closet doors and disappearing inside. a second later she throws several blankets and extra pillows onto the ground, proudly putting her hands on her hips as she presents the supplies she provided. after retrieving chairs from the dining room and meticulously propping up the blankets, you two crawl into the setup underneath.

her laptop is propped up, opened and ready to play attack on titan, with her tv and playstation on the ground in front of us. aph is about to get settled when she pauses, turning slowly to you with narrowed eyes.

“we forgot.” she says, voice low and ominous.

“forgot…” your voice hesitates nervously, confused by her sudden mood shift. “...what?”

her hand comes up to your shoulder, gripping it tightly as her hair dramatically falls in her face. slowly, she looks up at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“snacks.” 

you roll your eyes, shoving her back into the fort and crawling out.

“ugh, i thought something was wrong, aph!” you complain, waiting for her as she crawls out of the fort looking much more disheveled than she did a few moments prior.

she pouts at you, smoothing out her black hair and grabbing your hand, leading you back downstairs to the kitchen.

“i personally thought i was being funny.”

she opens the fridge, looking around like she was on a secret mission before snatching two pepsis and shutting the door with a jump and judge from her hip.

“get some chips and candy from the pantry,” she whispers, nodding her head before tiptoeing back to the stairs.

you look at her in confusion, but quietly retrieve the goods before following her up the stairs.

“why are we being sneaky?”

“because i already had two pepsis today and my mom will get mad if she sees me with another one…”

“girl…”

finally, you both crawl back into the tent, huddled together under the last blanket left and legs thrown over the other. you two decided on starting a survival world together, but kept on dying several times when you’d zone out and giggle at your favorite characters coming on screen.

“for my first sleepover, this is the best.” she says, resting her head on your shoulder for a moment with a pleasant hum. “i feel like i can be weird around you, you know?”

“yeah, i know," you reply, resting your head against hers. "me too.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 3.4 - What Not to Wear

VLAD

Up on the second floor, Vlad runs into his cousin, Mandy. She eyes him suspiciously in the hall and then makes a rude gesture before stomping downstairs. 

He slips into his grandparents’ bedroom and begins stripping off his clothes. Below him, he can hear Mandy begging for cereal and his grandmother telling her to eat the eggs she cooked or “fuck off.” He already knows Mandy will veto the eggs and head to his mother’s house to see what she has to offer.

Jokes on her, it’s eggs. 

He savors the feel of the suit on his skin as he stares at himself in the mirror. 

“You probably don’t need to let the hem out. I used to be your height back when I wore it,” Bubba explains. It’s the only warning Vlad has that he’s in the room. Even at his advanced age, the man moves like a cat. “Custom pockets on the inside for throwing knives,” he holds Vlad’s gaze in the mirror. “Not that this is that kind of occasion.”

“It isn’t,” Vlad replies softly, dashing away a tear. He’s never been able to control his crying. It’s just something that washes out of the static haze inside him. Strong feelings are so rare he’s learned not to fight them, even if he can’t always decipher them or understand why they’ve appeared. “I can’t wear this, Bubba. She’ll think I’m a complete psychopath.”

His grandfather snorts. “You are.”

“Rude,” Vlad chastizes. “Last I checked, you’re not a licensed therapist.”

Bubba shrugs, “Like calls to like. Now, do you want to keep this in case the right occasion ever pops up?”

Vlad thanks him and dashes across the yard to his house and carefully hangs the suit in his closet before grabbing his wallet and heading back out. 

He spots his father loading the truck and feels a wave of fury wash over him. The Strauds have one vehicle, and accommodating eight adults is difficult, which is why they have a system. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vlad shouts, “You know I have class. I need to get to the train station.”

“I’m not kidding,” his father says, “Now do you want to be a little shit, or do you want a ride? I got things to do.”

Idiotic things. Things to piss Vlad off. Things that require ignoring the whiteboard in the kitchen and taking the damn truck anyway. Vlad works his jaw but doesn’t make a move for the door.

His father leans against the truck and folds his arms. “Fine. You want to tell me what’s wrong, or is this the ghost of your teenage years sent to haunt me as punishment?”

Vlad glares. 

Josef looks up at the sky as if praying for patience. “Wear your dark blue button-down and your purple jeans. My brown boots are by my bed; I already shined them. Blue matches your skin tone, and the purple jeans are your most worn-in, so you’ll be comfortable.”

Vlad realizes that all the tension he’s holding disappears. He takes a deep breath and nods. “Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

“You’re welcome; I love you,” his father says, “But watcher help me, Vladislaus; if you’re not out here in fifteen minutes, I’m leaving, and you can walk your ass to the train station.”

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(Part 4 of 4)

[whumplump]

Day 10 of @augusnippets

Prompts used: execution / begging for mercy

Not used: fake execution

CW: cruel whumper, multiple whumpees, gunshot, character death

Whumpee woke up with a bang. A sudden sound, which didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular, seemed to reverberate in the air. They sat on the bed and looked around the room. Everything was exactly as before, the room maintained the elegance of Whumper's isolated house.

Whumpee got out of bed with intensely sore legs, heading out to investigate the strange sound they heard. The hallway was as rich and chic as the rest of the house. It had several doors that led to other rooms, duly listed with writing at the top of the entrance to each one. The lights in the house were all off, and outside, the morning was rising with a cloudy sky. To the left of Whumpee, the beginning of the hallway joined the living room, which had a glass wall, letting in light. However, the appearance was still gloomy.

BANG!

Then, Whumpee realized what that sound was. A shot. The third, which came soon after, sounded so close that they had the reflex to throw themselves on the ground. Imbued with despair, they got up and ran to the living room to escape. The front door was unlocked, but the handle had a turning system that took precious seconds from the captive. Another shot rang out, accompanied by an agonizing and painful scream coming from another room, then another shot, then silence. Oh, my God! Whumper was killing all the captives in the house!

Finally, the door opened and Whumpee dashed across the yard. It was their chance. With the adrenaline running through their veins, the pain in their legs disappeared.

BANG!

The thud took their breath away and knocked them face down on the grass. Their back burned with piercing pain, and they could no longer move their legs. They tried to crawl through the grass with their hands, digging their nails into the dirt to propel themselves forward.

Seeing that the fugitive was already down and defeated, Whumper walked towards them calmly. They watched their efforts with pleasure, for a few seconds, to put an end to them with a well-aimed shot in their hand. Whumpee screamed in pain.

Whumper crouched in front of them, delighting in their suffering and tears. They held the barrel of the gun to Whumpee's forehead.

"No!" the captive cried. "No, please don't kill me...! Please…”

Whumper thought for a moment.

"You're right. If I kill you, I'll have to pay extra for the cleaners to pick you up. But if I let you live, I'll have to put up with you. The others were more annoying than you, you even were good, I could spare you..."

They made an ironic gesture, running a hand over their chin, as if they were thinking about the best option. Whumpee remained silent, hoping for a positive response…

"Hmm… Nah."

Whumper cocked the gun.

"I have money. I'd rather pay a little more than have this useless, ugly thing like you here."

"What? No, wait—"

BANG.

[pomegranate-pen]

If requests are open, could i ask for a part 2 fro that one Rocky x reader you did? I just read it and I am AOUYWVDOUWGD I love it.

It ended with him essentially taking himself out of y/n's life right? just disappearing and ghosting them? What if, and hear me out: reader did a little snooping and finds a way into the speakeasy- maybe they know Wick or someone else who agrees to help them out, and they just. go. OFF on Rocky(affectionately. Like they're angry but they're more hurt than anything and they don't care what he does, they just want him to come back because they love him and they miss him and they just hate worrying whether or not he's alive and okay because they don't see him anymore.)

Hope that's enough to get something going, and if requests aren't open, you can totally ignore this! I just love some good hurt/comfort with a dash of good communication. Have a wonderful day/night and thank you so much!

A/N: oh my god?!! so many people wanted a part two to this!! I'm so glad you guys loved it that much!!!!! GAHHHH THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR KIND WORDS!!! one warning though!!! I have written this way before a few asks, so I might not have exceeded everyone's requests here, and I unfortunately do not have the time to completely rewrite this- since finals month have just begun-

Part two of the rocky rickaby angst!

warnings: these are obvious, mentions of alcohol and whatnot. this is pure fluff btw

It has been two months. two, dreadful, heartwrenching, and painful months.

‘Have you gone mad?’ is the question that always echoes in your mind. Especially when no one seems to even speak of the name Rocky Rickaby around you.

The café feels empty without him around. Ivy and Freckle keep acting like nothing is wrong, but their acting is so horrible under your intense gaze, it was like a group of people who accidentally found themselves in improv class instead of their intended one. 

And f you have to hear Ivy say ‘Rocky? Who's that?” and Freckle shaking his head saying his cousin is in the circus, you will scream.

 It was like Rocky truly has died. That night he peacefully passed away and now it is what you feared would happen. There are no more poems, no more chaos, no more silliness of the cat you have grown to love. It’s just quiet, so dreadfully quiet you feel like you’re stuck in a café themed asylum. You miss him and his horrible syrup-filled teas. The ones whose bitterness is completely overtaken by the sugary sweetness so powerful it leaves you craving water.

And as you lay on your bed, with the same drops of rain clanking through your window just like the certain night, you feel yourself getting mad. You’re enraged by his actions. Since when does he decide what you will do with your life? Since when did he want to be the good guy? Who said this is the decision best for you?

With gritted teeth and a lack of sleep, you frantically twist and turn and start running the gears in your brain. You kept thinking, stuck with ideas of what to do to get his attention. Though your half-sleepy mind was making up a very half-assed plan, you were so desperate at this point, you couldn’t handle not seeing him anymore. You couldn’t handle worrying for him through the sidelines no longer. You will get to see him tomorrow, whether he likes it or not.

----

“I’m not allowed to speak a word.”

Frustrating. That is the word you’d use for this situation. Horribly frustrating. Who knew that Freckle Mcmurray could be this stubborn? Perhaps since it was a request from the one closest to him, he follows through with his loyalty till the bitter end.

You’d admire this quality of his if it wasn’t a huge block to you.

“oh come on Freckle, I’m just curious!” Freckle tried to do minimal tasks around the café to throw you off. For a moment he was cleaning the already spotless tables, in another, he was sweeping the dustless floors. “ don’t you think you owe me one after I helped you guys that night?”

Suddenly, he stops sweeping and looks at the ground with silent guilt. his hand having a strong grip on the broom. “ If I paid more attention Rocky wouldn’t have gotten shot in the first place.” His ears lowered a bit and his brow furrowed. His tail slightly shifted from place to place behind him as he started sweeping again.

Oh. it seems like the situation is a bit more complicated than you thought. “Freckle…” you put a hand on his shoulder, making him stop and look at you after avoiding your gaze for a long time. “ it wasn’t your fault— I’m sure Rocky was being…well…” you huffed. “Rocky. You know? No one expected you to know he’ll get shot.”

His ears lowered even more and he looks away. Shit. You made it worse. Now a bit of guilt seeped into you. “ that’s not what happened.” He mumbled, palms holding the broom at different angles and not even cleaning anymore. “ I was the one who was about to get shot. He blocked for me.”

“oh…”

He sighs and leans the broom on the table next to you. he sits down with a look of stress mixed within his guilty eyes now. “if-if it wasn’t for my clumsiness we wouldn’t have been forced to come to you for help!” his hands were now grabbing his head in distress as his tail wagged frivolously more than before.

“Woah woah— calm down, Freckle.” You place your hands on his shoulders, leaning down to meet his level and stopping him from almost ripping his eyebrows off. “ don’t freak yourself out so much. No one is to blame for this situation.”

His eyes squint at you and you cough. “ook— maybe there is— but it’s way too complicated to be just one person’s fault, don’t you think?”

He’s silent for a bit, but his breathing calms down and his eyebrows aren’t as furrowed as before. “I-I guess you’re right.” He sighs. He then went into silence- one where judging from his face, was one of constant conflict. That is until he finally sighs and grumbles out a ‘fine’ as he digs through his pockets and brings out a pretty pin, with a shape of a club on it. He brings you closer as he whispers in your ear.

“did you get all that?” he finally leans back and you get up. you nod your head, the information running in your head on repeat. “good.” He gives out a breath of relief, yet his shoulders tense up again in worry. “d-don’t do anything brash! I promised Rocky you’d stay out of trouble.”

Yet here he is helping you jump into one. You couldn’t help but give a giddy grin. After giving him a playful punch on the shoulder and profusely thanking him, you walk out of the café with a worried Freckle looking back.

-----

Dim, red lights bore the entire cave, pillars clean as a whistle overtaking some of the view and tables as far as the eye could see, yet, emptier than the café is, which is saying a lot considering how quiet that place could get.

Honestly, you didn’t expect to find this place so easily with no trouble. You expected to go over some guards or whatnot for inspection before being let in- but then again—you never were one to associate yourself with danger, you’re quite the newcomer to such things.

You only hoped that your attire was the right one for such a situation, and that you don’t leave this place getting chased by some hitman of sorts. Of which, you don’t think they have, unless you count the trio and the very scary-looking bartender. You swear you saw him glaring at you at some point. Still, you sat down a few seats away from his station and ordered a drink to not seem fishy.

you look around, no sign of Rocky, which now that you think of it, there is a huge chance Freckle told on you and Rocky stayed away. Dammnit! You should’ve expected this— as you try to drink your sorrows away, one sip of the illicit beverage has had the ends of your hair stand in horror. bitter, tasteless, and pure garbage. Oh god— is this what Rocky has been risking his life for?!

“Well well well, do my eyes deceive me, or do we really have a new customer here?” before you could mull over your new discovery, a sly, lazy voice grabs your attention. You turn around and the very first thing you sense is the high smell of his smoke. It invaded your lungs for a moment- and you couldn’t help but scrunch your nose a bit and cough.

“oh, sorry. Forgot not many people can't handle the smell.” He takes out the cigarette from his mouth and sits right next to you, burning down the roll on the counter. He leans on the counter, his shoulders holding his weight. “you new here?”

“whose asking?”

He laughs. “ the leader of the jazz band up there if you’re that scared.”

“the band?” you perked up. “ wait- uh- “You look back at the stage a few feet away from you, yet you see no violin. Perhaps he took it with him like he always does? “…do you perhaps have a violinist playing for you there?”

Zib now perks up a bit as well, giving you a confused glare as he answered. “yeah…but he’s got some new business he does here too.” He takes your glass and drinks it before you could rebuttal. And to your surprise, he doesn’t gag when he drinks it.

“I could’ve had a cold, you know.”

“I didn’t see you sniffling nor sneezin’.”

“what if I had meningitis or mumps that you’ll get now?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been through worse.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Best to just ignore his actions for now. “ so…this violinist-is he uh-“Oh god you probably sound suspicious now. You’re seriously way too out of your comfort zone here. “ is he perhaps the same guy who's a waiter up in the café?”

Silence takes over the space, and you're left with an awkward piano playing in the background as the stranger stares you up and down. You freeze for a moment, hoping to whatever celestial being that truly rules this world to let you live another day. Yet, the messy-looking man suddenly starts snickering, then full-blown cackling and at some point- coughing due to his weak lungs- yet still bravely laughing through it. safe to say you're embarrassed as you can ever be.

“you- hahah- you’re the-cough-lil’ cute nurse he keeps talking about?!”

“he— he thinks I’m cute?”

“No wonder you talked about mumps- err- whatever that is.” His laugh dies down and he looks at you with a look of horror and small amusement. “and you actually like him back? He wasn’t lying?”

“he talks about me?”

 “it’s Rocky. Of course he’s talking about you, every day to be precise.” He fiddles with his pocket and takes out another cigarette. You squint at him before he mumbles out a ‘relax, it’s a weaker one’ before lighting it up. “though…he’s been awfully quiet these few days.” He glances back at you. “I’m guessing that involves you coming here?”

You look away from him. “I guess you could say that.” You tap the counter, now remembering Rocky’s face that night- tired and bruised up, a face that makes your heart ache. “ will he be coming back? or is he avoiding me again?”

“I’ll be honest with you newbie,” he lets out a puff of smoke. “he’s in the backstage avoiding you. his cousin warned him.”

“I knew it!” you grumbled as he continued.

“ now usually, I’d advise you to stay away from the kid. But…” he shrugs. “I’ll admit that with your presence in his life, he suddenly got a bit more excited than usual- normally this would be a bad thing- but it does boost his performances on stage.” He then started to mumble a bit. “…although on bootlegging he’ll always be a lost cause…he still tries his best.”

“ but how do I get to him? won’t he run off?”

And with that, the cat gives a sly smirk. Okay…not the most trustworthy look, you thought. He beckons with his hand for you to come closer, and just like with Freckle, he whispers to you a strategy you didn’t expect.

---

A backstage, though more so a greenroom than anything else- since it doesn’t even lead to the stage- the band likes to call it a backstage since they hang out here when there’s nothing to do in the front. However, over the years, it has also become a place for extra storage, for things such as empty barrels and whatnot. And now, it is a hideout for Rocky, who surprisingly, isn’t hiding from an assassin or another angry farmer out to get him- rather a worried nurse whom he likes too much.

“…you sure you don’t want to talk to them?” his cousin, Calvin Mcmurray- though he likes to call Freckle, a habit that has been spread to everyone much to his cousin’s dismay- is staying with him for the time being. Since he doesn’t have much to do anyway, not unless Rocky comes up with a new unneeded task. “they've probably gone through a lot of trouble to get here.”

Rocky, to Freckle’s surprise, is silent. Shifting around and thinking of a solution. “I made the right choice,” he spoke to himself. Now staring at his shoulder which was once shot at. “ they couldn’t have handled this anyway.”  

“…are you okay?” Calvin was confused and no matter what he asks, for weeks Rocky hasn’t told him what happened that fateful night. “ you know if you don’t see them they'll just force you to, right?” he reasoned. “ they're not one to easily give up.”

“there you go questioning my logic again,” Rocky sighs and holds his finger up in a scolding manner. “ what did I say? The plan is simple.” He smiles, then gives a sheepish expression. “ avoid Y/n at all costs until they finally gives up, gets so mad at me that they avoid me themselves all together! Then boom! They're safe and sound and I can easily take risks again.”

“…but…they don't easily give up-“

“nonsense Freckle!” Rocky huffs. “what’s the worse they could do? join the lackadaisy?“

A loud bang erupts in the room as a familiar face barges in.

Your eyes light up when you see him again. After two long months, you can finally see the silly cat whose been on your mind for so long. after two months of constantly wondering if his wounds have opened up or not- and praying that he hasn’t gone to the Dr.Quackenbush guy he spoke about- you finally see him. yet, your expression is frustrated.

“Rickaby,”

Zib whistled. “ last name used, means big trouble buddy.”

You decided to ignore that comment and walk closer to him. Rocky being seated gave you a more domineering look in his perspective, and your determined energy was radiating through the roof. “you can’t avoid me any longer.” You grumble. “especially since it’s not even for your sake- you’re choosing for me. which by the way- is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done.” Probably not the most, but you were too mad to think properly. “ if you keep avoiding me like this, then I’ll have no choice but to just get a job here.” you then shrugged. “ from what I’ve seen, they could use a nurse here anyway- or rather anyone who even knows a thing about aid kits.”

“told you they wouldn��t give up,” Freckle squeaked, though he was hiding behind his hat with lowered ears and a scrunched-up face.

Rocky clears his throat as he gets up, grabbing your shoulders and turning you around the other way. “Y/n…an unexepcted pleasure to see you again!” he laughs nervously while looking at the others. “How about we take this conversation somewhere else?”

You cross your arms and pout. “if you don’t run away then sure.”

“don’t worry, we’ll keep guard." Zib spoke as he pats Freckle’s shoulder. You made a note to yourself to thank him later.

“..shall we?” Rocky’s tone has become a bit nervous and sheepish.

With a nod to your head, you speak. “ lead the way.”

----

“alright— now I know there might be some issues when change happens-“

The place he chose, was just a top attic that lead to the surface, where a beaten-up car sat. and to your shock, some dried-up spills of blood on the floor. Rocky sat down on a crate box and motioned you to sit on the other next to him.

“Change? What, am I a kid now?” you sat down. “ what you did was absolutely mindbogglingly-“

“-I did it for your own good.” He cuts you off. “ think of it this way— “ he sits up straight. “your life is normal, it’s peaceful and has a good future ahead of it. though yes someone could argue mundane is boring, you seem to like the mundane from what I've seen- mine though? It isn't like that in the slightest. I work in a ….” He hisses a bit in concentration. “…very dubiously legal place doing odd jobs. You won’t like it.”

“Who said you could make these decisions for me?” you huffed, deciding to now spill your guts before he runs away again. You held his hands, making sure he was looking at you as you spoke, as stressful as it is to have someone stare at you. “ you’re right about one thing. All my life has been normal.” You give his hands an affectionate squeeze. “ but that doesn’t mean I was happy in it. I was sick of normal, of mundane day-in and day-out lifestyle. And then- then I met you.” god, you could feel your cheeks burning up. “you’re fun. Sure you can get too crazy but I like that about you. it’s so easy to talk to you and I just- I just love spending time with you because-..” Your heart was going to beat out of your chest.”… you’re my favorite person.” You huffed out. “I like your presence in my life- you make it worth living. I like how you have this weird obsession with pancakes- I love all the expressions you make while you're debating about something- I like you, idiot.”

Silence took over the room , and you couldn’t help but move your gaze away from embarrassment. Shit— you shouldn’t have said the last part- that was too much- will he ignore you forever now?—

“…so you..wouldn’t mind the injuries?”

You look up at him and shrugged. “ I mean…I’ll certainly get worried, there’s no stopping that. But if you promise to be a little more alert, then I promise I won’t freak out as much. “ you gave him a playful smile.”Just remember to visit me if you get hurt. Not the guy who uses a lot of chloral hydrate.”

“consider it done darling.”

“darling? Really?”

“would you like me to call you ‘Doc’ instead? Or perhaps something more romantic? Sweetheart? Honeydough? Love?—“

“okay Stop-“

“ Why I can go all day!— Sunshine, Honeybun, Lovebug, Hot Stuff—“

“alright alright I get it!” you couldn’t help but give out a giddy laugh. “darling is fine.”

“Anything for you, darling."Rocky gets up and gives a small bow, which the response from you was a small chuckle. “ say,” he gets up. “ how did you meet Zib?”

“Who?”

“the guy you came in with.”

“oh— his name is Zib? Huh, weird name.”

“It’s his nickname, though I’m not sure what his birth name is.”

“was yours always Rocky?”

He grumbles. “you don’t want to know what my actual name was.”

You grinned and tilted your head in curiosity. “oh, don’t be like that! I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“it is.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now spill.”

He stays quiet for a moment, then fiddles with his tie as he answers. “it’s Roark.”

You desperately tried to hide your snort, yet a small bit was let out. Rocky shook his head dramatically. “ridiculous, isn’t it? only my aunt calls me by that name.” he then gives a worried smile. “though usually her tone is always scolding too. So that checks out.”

“no-no- “ you stopped your laugh. “I think it’s a very nice name. but I do like Rocky more.”

“Perhaps you should give me a nickname, darling?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “perhaps I should.”

You stand up as well. Lean to his level and give a small kiss on his forehead.

“I’ll see you later, my favorite bard.”

“That’s the best you could come up with?” yet, when he says that, his grin is bigger than ever, as much giddy as yours is.

“Is this a way to treat your number one fan?" you rolled your eyes. " And anyway, I’m a nurse, not a poet.”

He gives a soft smile, and for once, you realize how much his smile was always full of energy and chaos, yet this one was different. This one felt calm. He gives a peck on your forehead, and you were certain your heartbeat was loud.

“I’m honored to be your favorite bard.”

you give a soft smile back, and for a moment, there was a sincere quiet glance between you two. that is before Rocky broke it. "by the way..." he gives his common grin. "...did you just confess your love to me?

[mr-danger-to-my-sanity]

Legend of Da Yu'er / Legend of Xiao Zhuang (2015)

In my desire to watch everything Liu Xueyi has been in that I can find, and mixed with a dash of "I watched this so you don't have to", I'd like to introduce you to Ezhe, the biggest asshole on the Mongolian plains. When looking for more pics from this show I came across a weibo post where someone said "all the worst things a man can do in a drama was given to him", and they're not wrong. This is him.

The basic premise of the show is the life of Da Yu'er, the most beautiful woman in all of Mongolia who lives an unfortunate parallel to Helen of Troy in that she is desired by men who go to war over who should have her. Ezhe is one of them.

(Trigger warning for abuse & sexual assault)

We first meet him at the marriage tournament of our female lead, princess Da Yu'er of the Khorchin tribe. Ezhe is the prince of the Chahar tribe who is confident he will win the horse racing and archery contest, but doesn't hesitate to threaten his fellow competitors for good measure. And for most of the tournament he is winning! Until the Jin Emperor Huangtaiji who has been a spectator thus far, decides to throw his hat into the ring and beats him in the last race, claiming Da Yu'er as his concubine. Ezhe claims that this was all set up ahead of time and is an insult to his tribe to be played like that, setting himself up as an antagonist for both the Khorchin tribe and the Jin Emperor.

(Dont let the wispy lock of hair fool you, things are about to get BAD)

The Khorchin leader offers Ezhe a marriage with Da Yu'er's cousin which is accepted by his father, but Ezhe is HORRIBLE to his new wife for the sole crime of not being Da Yu'er. He strangles her, threatens to torture her for his own amusement and kills her blind mother by pushing her headfirst into a wall. Eventually she has to pretend to be crazy just to get him to leave her alone.

But a truce marriage isn't enough for Ezhe or his father, both of whom think their tribe should be at the top, so they lay siege to Khorchin, only to eventually retreat when the Emperor sends reinforcements.

He disappears for a few episodes only to come back and attack Khorchin again, this time taking their leader (Da Yu'er's grandfather) hostage, and will only exchange him for Da Yu'er, regardless of the fact that she is now the Emperor's favourite concubine. He settles for initially exchanging her grandfather for the male lead Prince Dorgon (the Emperor's brother and the man that Da Yu'er actually loves) to be his hostage instead, threatening to kill Dorgon if Da Yu'er isn't handed over in 3 days.

Ezhe also knows about the weird love triange between the Emperor/Da Yu'er/Dorgon and taunts Dorgon about it at every opportunity. When the deadline is up for the exchange/execution, Da Yu'er shows up at the last second and agrees to his demands only to trick him and run off with Dorgon, leaving Ezhe with a knife to the hand and an even bigger rage boner.

Several episodes later it is now 6 years since Ezhe lost the marriage tournament (and we know this because he keeps harping on about it). Da Yu'er is travelling through the region to escort a new bride back to the palace when their carriage is ambushed and they are kidnapped by Ezhe. Even Ezhe's father thinks this is a dick move but can't convince Ezhe to release them.

(Dad saying what everyone else is thinking)

Ezhe threatens to kill the extraneous woman plus Da Yu'er's cousin who had tried to help them flee, forcing Da Yu'er into tearfully agreeing to marry him. They have a quick wedding offscreen before he drags her to the marriage bed, but he is thwarted by too many layers of clothing which allows enough time for Dorgon, Da Yu'er's brother and some guards to rescue her, and Ezhe is forced to retreat again.

(Have some insufferable smirks for getting this far)

After the death of his father, Ezhe becomes the leader of the scattered Chahar tribe at the same time the Jin Empire is in the process of fighting back the Ming Empire. To save having to fight wars on two fronts, the Jin Emperor sends Dorgon to make a truce with Chahar, inviting them to surrender and assimilate into the Jin Empire. Ezhe naturally refuses and battles with them instead, even poisoning the lake to weaken the Jin army, but in the end is still outnumbered. Ezhe agrees to meet Dorgon to surrender but uses the meeting as a last ditch attempt to kill him, but is captured and his mother surrenders on behalf of the Chahar.

The Jin Empire is successfully rebranded as the Qing Empire, and as the leader of the Chahar, Ezhe is given a title and a ministerial position. He can now mock Dorgon with impunity and waltz around the palace and follow Da Yu'er to his smirking little heart's content. He doesn't even care that his first wife has become the Emperor's newest concubine, or that the Emperor had betrothed him to another princess for the sake of unity, he only cares about Da Yu'er. He looks for every opportunity he can to point out that she is technically his wife since they had a wedding and invites her to run away with him. When that doesn't work he sneaks into Da Yu'er's palace and tries forcing himself onto her, chased off by her maid smacking him over the head with a paperweight.

The next time he attempts to forcibly consummate his dubious marriage, Ezhe drugs Da Yu'er and manages to get shirtless before the Emperor and all of his guards descend on the bedroom and finally drag him off to prison. Even in prison Ezhe is defiant and mocks the Emperor to his face for wanting to only exile him and not kill him, declaring that he is happy to die for love. But he doesn't go without a fight, breaking free from his restraints and fighting the Emperor's bodyguard before turning his blade on himself to insist on Da Yu'er's innocence.

(Totally understand the desire to chain him up and strangle him.)

Ezhe: "It is distinguished and admirable to die for love. I will be elegant and unconventional if I die this way."

~~~

(It was here where I stopped watching because I thought he was dead and then wrote the following:)

Can I make any case for positives? He genuinely mourns the death of his aunt and his father. He obeys his mother when she surrenders, and appears to treat his sister well when they're in the palace. And despite never caring what Da Yu'er wants, when the Emperor catches them together and sets to punish her for adultery, Ezhe takes full responsibility and pleads to the Emperor not to punish her.

So... he's a romantic, if in a very twisted way? Oh good gods this probably the way people romanticize real life serial killers. At least Ezhe is a *fictional* asshole.

~~~

But this behind the scenes picture of Liu Xueyi in a costume I hadn't yet seen prompted me to watch further and lo and behold, the Emperor called for the imperial physician to save Ezhe's life, and he was in a coma and being cared for by Dorgon (of all people). When he wakes it is 9 months later (to coincide with the birth of Da Yu'er's son and the rumours of his parentage). Ezhe is weakened so much that he has lost his martial abilities and the Emperor chooses not to punish him any further in order to keep the peace. Ezhe relays his gratitude to Dorgon for his caregiving and his apologies to Da Yu'er for hurting her. He even tries to turn away his fiancee, calling himself a "wicked sinner" but she sticks by him and he begins to reform his ways.

For the next 14 episodes he disappears off the screen until it's 6 years later and the Emperor is dead. Dorgon (now the Regent for Da Yu'er's Emperor son) comes to visit Ezhe, who has been living a quiet life outside the palace with his wife and son, spending his time reading holy books. Dorgon invites Ezhe to join him in battle against the last of Ming army to which he readily agrees.

Under Dorgon's command, Ezhe leads an elite team of soldiers to pretend to be allies and mislead the enemy, helping the Qing army close in the ranks around them. Side by side with Dorgon he fights the last Ming General into retreating into the woods. Ezhe protects Dorgon by diving in front of the general's guandao/polearm, spitting up blood but not conceding. The enemy general slices off Ezhe's right arm at the shoulder, but Ezhe grabs the polearm with his left hand and proceeds to beat the general back with a series of mighty kicks until Dorgon captures him once and for all. The adrenaline of the fight gone, Ezhe hits the ground like a fallen tree, and Dorgon cradles him in his dying moments. Ezhe has finally paid back Dorgon for saving his life and is happy to die a dignified death on the battlefield after being weak for so many years, with one final request.

With his last breath, does he ask for Dorgon to say goodbye to his wife for him? To look after his son? To bury him next to his father in the Chahar plains? No, Ezhe's last dying words, true to form, are "Take good care of Da Yu'er for me."

(Thats the end, congrats, have some battle scowls.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes on his reform: Ezhe does end his arc in a lot better form than he began, but it was still very self centered. When he woke from his coma, his gratitude and respect was for Dorgon to whom he apologised for the hurt he'd caused. It was only after Dorgon pointed out that he'd hurt Da Yu'er the most that Ezhe asked Dorgon to pass on his apology to Da Yu'er too. No mention at all of the torment he put his first wife through, or how he endangered his own people on many occasions for his own desires. He throws the fish back into the pond when fishing because the fish "is a living thing", but is still wishing he had the strength to fight back when the Emperor's son insults his pride. Although his wife and son appear to have a happy life when we briefly see them, Ezhe refers to his domestic life as his time "being weak" and eagerly riding off into battle. And his dying words? Take care of Da Yu'er "for me." She's the bloody Empress Dowager at this point, but he's still thinking of her through the lens of his association with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Would I recommend watching?

For the story? It's a palace drama with a very soap opera vibe, which got a little much for me so I only skimmed through it to keep up just enough with the plot. I liked the main characters but was not as invested in them to keep watching after Ezhe died, but it certainly wasn't boring at any point.

For Liu Xueyi? If you've read this far then you're at least aware of the godawful shit Ezhe does and if you want to see him glare and smirk and fight his way through the show with a curly wig and some big jewellery then go for it. He's a great antagonist and his fight scenes are really quite good. (And if you only want to watch the episodes he's in, I can give you a list).

This was a surprisingly bigger role than I expected it to be for his second drama, and could very well be his OG Asshole character (I haven't found his first drama yet so can't attest to his character in that) so if you've ever wondered why he gets cast as assholes as often as anything else then this might just be the reason why.

This show is listed on MyDramaList as The Legend of Xiaozhaung, but I found it with English subtitles on YouTube as The Legend of Da Yu'er.

Costume Gallery:

[waltwhitmansbeard]

turned my water into wine #50

surprise, bitch, bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. this one was prompted by duchesscharliejames on ao3. see my masterpost.

There aren't a great many things that Grog takes seriously. Ale. Bedding women. His axe, which he sharpens with reverence every night before bed. His position within the Royal Guard, even though technically there are no more royals to guard. He's content to keep an eye on the young once-royals when they gallivant about, trusts that his size and his scowl will keep any and all threats away from his charges.

But what Grog sometimes fails to account for is how wily young children can be. Grog is fast, but not as fast as them, and it's easier to keep threats from them than it is to keep them from threatening themselves. Scanlan has accused Grog on more than one occasion of having a death wish—yes, his first thought upon being confronted by an owlbear was to wrestle it, is that so insane?—but his impulsivity could never compare to the way Vax and Keyleth's children throw themselves head-first into danger. How many times has Grog retrieved them from a tree they could climb up but not down, or snatched them back just before they darted right beneath a horse's hooves? Grog takes keeping these young ones alive very seriously, because it is, quite frankly, very difficult.

When Vilya and her visiting cousin, Vesper, wish to go play bandits in the woods, Grog is more than happy to join, mostly because he, too, loves playing bandits. The forest at the edge of Zephrah is bare this time of year, most of the leaves already littering the floor, which the girls crunch happily as they dash between trees. Grog plods along, doing his best to keep both excitable girls in his view at all times.

Vesper runs up to him and tugs on his trouser leg. "Grog, will you be a scary monster?"

Grog would love to be a scary monster. He fixes his face into a terrible grimace and roars. The girls shriek with delight and take off, and Grog gives chase. Vesper was closer, so he goes after her first, taking long, slow strides after her as she howls. He lets her get away from him for a minute or two before swooping in and catching her, lifting her high into the air as she wriggles and squeals and laughs.

Putting on his best monster voice, deep and silly, Grog says loudly, "Mmm, one little girl to eat, but I think TWO would be even better!"

Just as he turns to head after Vilya, he hears a high-pitched, terrified scream, and Grog knows in his bones that it is not the excited scream Vesper gave while being chased. He tears off at once, trying to remember the direction in which he saw Vilya run. Vesper is tucked under one arm like a ball. "Grog, was that Vilya?"

She sounds scared, and Grog doesn't know what to tell her, because he's scared, too. "I think so." His words are punctuated by a growl, low and ominous. It's coming from their left, so Grog turns and moves in that direction. Ahead, he can see her, little Vilya, back up against a tree, but she's not moving, save for the tremble Grog can see even from here.

He stops, turns, and sets Vesper high up in the branches of a tree. "Stay here," he commands, keeping his voice low. "Do not make a sound, and do not climb down on your own." Vesper nods, eyes wide with terror.

Grog's instinct is to creep forward, but the leaf litter will be too loud under foot to allow for stealth. Instead, he bounds in Vilya's direction, throwing himself, snarling and huge, between her and what he now sees to be a mountain lion ready to pounce. He roars, not the playful roar from before, but a powerful, booming, furious roar. The mountain lion ducks even closer to the ground, and so Grog takes a large, threatening step forward. Clearly decided that the delicious child would not be worth the risk, the big cat slinks off, disappearing between the trees.

Before he can turn around, Grog feels something slam into the back of his leg as tiny arms wrap around him. Vilya is shaking so much Grog's teeth chatter. He spins as best he can and crouches down in front of her. "Are you alright, Vily?"

Vilya lets go of his leg to throw her arms around his neck, and he catches her easily. "That was really scary."

Grog hugs her tight. "Yeah, it was. I haven't been that scared in a long time."

Vilya looks up at him, confused. "But you weren't scared. You were brave."

"Well, those two things can happen at the same time, Vily. I was brave in front of the mountain lion, because it's my job to keep you safe. But before that? I was very scared that something bad was going to happen to you."

"Oh." She chews her lip thoughtfully. "I'm glad you were scared, then, because it meant you could be brave, and I really needed you to be brave."

Grog hugs her again. "I'll always be brave for you, Vily, don't you worry. But hey." He tweaks her nose with his massive finger. "You were pretty brave, too."

Her eyes go wide. "I was?"

"You stared down a mountain lion. That's some hero stuff if I've ever saw it." She giggles, and he lifts her up to sit on one of his shoulders, and it's a short walk back to the tree where he left Vesper.

"VIL!" She scrambles onto Grog's other shoulder when he approaches and throws her arms around her cousin over his head. "I was really scared!"

"Me too," Vilya replies, "but I was also brave."

As Grog sets off back toward the cottage on the edge of the castle grounds, Vilya begins to tell Vesper all about her mountain lion encounter. Vesper listens in rapt attention, waiting for the end to say, "Whoa. You have got to tell everyone that story when we get home."

True fear strikes Grog right in the heart—he does not want to lose this job. "Uh, maybe we keep this adventure to ourselves, alright, girls?"

[training4theapocalypse]

Finders Keepers Ch 3. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (this specific chapter is PG tho)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: McLaggen needs a date for Slughorn's party. It would be stupid to ask you, Alicia Spinnet's ex-girlfriend... right?

A/N: Smut is coming ONE DAY but just not today

Masterlist

Chapter 3: Poster Girl

Harry Potter was a no-show once again at Slughorn’s dinner party and so Cormac McLaggen didn’t get the chance to grill him. As far as he was concerned, Potter was a decent enough seeker but he didn’t have the strategic mind to be Captain. Not in the way that he did. And if he couldn’t play on the team, McLaggen was determined to give Potter a helping hand with strategy - he wanted Gryffindor to win the cup as much as anyone else.

At the end of dinner, Slughorn announced that he was going to be hosting a Christmas party the day before school stopped for the holidays. McLaggen’s new concern, now taking precedence over Gryffindor’s upcoming game, was who he was going to bring.

“Oi, Belby!” McLaggen catches up with Marcus Belby in the corridor outside Slughorn’s office. “You’re, er, friends with the Ravenclaw Captain, right?”

Belby gives him a quizzical look. “Hardly.”

“You’re in the same house?”

“Yeah, but she’s not exactly approachable. Unless you’re into Quidditch or books… or punching things, probably.”

“But do you know if she’s…” McLaggen searches for what he’s getting at. “It’s just -  I wouldn’t mind getting to know her on a first-name basis if you know what I mean?” He adds with a juvenile smirk.

“You’re not seriously thinking of asking her to Slughorn’s Christmas do, are you? Think you’re barking up the wrong tree there, mate.”

Oh. “You reckon?”

Belby snorts. “I mean, yeah, she’s fit but you know she was going out with Alicia?”

“She’s never gone out with any blokes in Ravenclaw?’

“McLaggen, she’s a keeper.” He stresses the last word like it’s synonymous with ‘lesbian’. “And I’ve heard she’s got a poster of Gwenog Jones above her bed.” Before McLaggen can consider this, Belbly leans in and adds quietly. “Look, take my advice. If you want to ask someone who likes a Quidditch player, you should ask her.” He nods at the back of Hermione Granger’s head as she disappears off towards Gryffindor Tower.

Nevertheless, McLaggen finds himself looking forward to double Potions the next day. Despite your hostile reputation, McLaggen and you have been having as much fun as two people can in the confines of a Potions classroom. 

At the start and end of your lessons and in the spare moments when you stood together waiting for potions to brew, he enjoyed seeing your face light up animatedly as you reminisced about saves you’d made and he’d do the same, delighted to have someone who was genuinely interested in his play-by-plays, offering him your opinions and asking questions. 

And, McLaggen thinks, watching you adjust your ponytail in concentration while you wait for your Hiccoughing Solution to boil over, it doesn’t hurt that you’re not bad to look at either.

“What?” you ask bluntly, noticing him staring at you. 

Shit. He changes the subject.

“I just remembered I had meant to tell you Gwenog Jones was at Slughorn’s dinner a couple of weeks ago.” 

“She- what!?” You throw your head back wistfully. “I am obsessed with her.” The agonised expression on your face twists a knot in his chest. He’s not sure if it’s a pang of desire or jealousy. Or both.

“Yeah, well, no guessing why you like her,” he says, thinking about what Belby said about the poster above your bed.

“Er, she’s a legendary beater and the Captain of the team I support? Of course, I like her.”

“Yeah, and she’s hot.” He raises his eyebrows. 

“Oh, right, yeah. She is.” You say sharply and add the final dash of powdered silver to your cauldron with a throw that he deems is probably more aggressive than necessary. McLaggen quietly adds his powdered silver to his own potion, deciding to drop the subject. He’s keen to distance himself from your notoriously hot temper.

You both wait silently as Slughorn does his rounds, giving both you and McLaggen glowing praise before dismissing the class. It seems to have put you in a better mood because you  start talking about your plans to train with the Ravenclaw team tomorrow night as you tidy up your things. 

“I’m gonna stay late afterwards and do some drills if you want to get some keeper practice in too?” you ask tentatively.

“Not worried about me spying on your technique?”

“Maybe if you weren’t the reserve keeper.”

You’re teasing him. And he doesn’t know why but he really, really likes it. 

It’s unorthodox, to say the least, for players in opposing teams to train with each other. A small part of him wonders, or maybe even hopes that you’re trying to find an excuse to spend more time with him. 

You grin at him, waiting for his usual cocky retort and slip your hair free from your ponytail, shaking your head. The swish of your hair sends the scent of coconut his way, and the fragrance reminds him dimly of your first Potions lesson together.

“Listen,” says McLaggen, deciding against best judgement and holding you back as the rest of the class leaves the room. “I think Gwenog is coming to Slughorn’s Christmas party.”

“Don’t rub it in, McLaggen.”

“Well, we can bring someone and I, er…” he clears his throat. “I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

He watches for your reaction - it’s obvious you hadn’t expected this. “To Slughorn’s party? Together?”

“I mean-” he blusters on. “- I thought you might want to come and meet her?”

“It’s just y’know Slughorn’s club… the principle of it.” 

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” he adds quickly. “But it would be more bearable if you were there.”

“Alright then.” You duck under the table to look for your bookbag before he can read your expression. “I’ll go with you. And meet Gwenog, I mean,” you add hastily.

“Excellent,” he says, retrieving your bag from the chair where you’d left it. You throw it over your shoulder and he walks behind you watching the way you move as you walk, following you out of the dungeon. “See you at the pitch tomorrow night.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you catch up with Marietta and Cho at the top of the stairs, you have to shush them urgently as they start squealing with glee after hearing about your conversation with McLaggen.

“Oh don’t worry- he can’t hear us!” says Cho and sure enough, he’s out of sight. “This is so exciting!”

“Do you even have a dress?” asks Marietta, which annoys you, mostly because she’s right in her assumption. “Oh! You should find out what he’s wearing so you can match!”

“I’m gonna have to stop you there, Edgecombe.” You gesture like you’re being sick. “I am not wearing something matching McLaggen. Back in a sec.”

They wait for you outside the girl’s bathroom, discussing this latest news. You pause as you’re about to come out of your cubicle when you overhear the unmistakable sound of crying and a dreamy sort of voice that you think you’ve heard before in the Ravenclaw common room. You peer through the crack in the door to see Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger huddled by the sinks.

Hermione is drying her eyes with paper towels. “He’s been horrid to me ever since he started going out with Lavender.”

“Yes… he can be very unkind,” Luna says evenly.

“And I asked him to Slughorn’s party. I feel so stupid. I don’t even want to go. I just thought it would be nice if the two of us… oh, never mind.” She blows on her tissue loudly.

You stay silent. You’re no good at consoling people. And even if you were, comforting Hermione would be tantamount to betraying Cho and Marietta.

“There, there.” Luna pats her on the back. “You deserve to go to the party with someone better than Ron.”

“Yes, I suppose-” She pauses in thought. “Yes... Someone better… Ron would hate that.”

They both make their way out of the bathroom and you can breathe again. You wait a few moments before joining Cho and Marietta in the corridor.

“Did you see that?” you ask, and then fill them in on what you just heard.

“She deserves it,” says Marietta, bringing her hand up to touch her scarred face. “But since when did you care about gossip?”

“Don’t you see? That explains McLaggen getting confunded at tryouts-”

“Oh no, not Quidditch again,” sighs Marietta.

“No, listen! Granger fancies Weasley so she confunded McLaggen, making him miss the last penalty.” They exchange looks. “What? It makes sense!”

Cho links your arm. “You need to just admit that McLaggen had an off-day at tryouts and let it go.”

“No, don’t discourage her,” says Marietta, linking your other arm. “I like this side of you. Boys… gossiping… Now, wait until you hear about what Zacharias Smith said about Ginny Weasley.” You roll your eyes. “C’mon! It’s actually about Quidditch!”

You groan, letting them lead you down the corridor to Transfiguration.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night in the library, McLaggen and a couple of the other seventh-years are comparing Ancient Runes essays.

“Leanne,” says Hermione Granger, approaching the trio from behind a bookshelf. “How’s Katie doing?”

McLaggen and Eddie Carmichael look at Leanne solemnly. They know all about Katie Bell’s incident with a cursed necklace in Hogsmeade. For the past week or so it had been all anyone had been able to talk about.

“Still in St Mungo’s but she’s awake at least,” explains Leanne. “She’s still not well enough to talk about who gave her the necklace yet though.”

Hermione nods. “If you speak to her, tell her Harry, Ron and I are thinking about her, please.”

Leanne nods and they go back to their essays but Hermione lingers for a second.

“Cormac?” she asks gingerly. “Do you have a second?”

McLaggen locks eyes with Eddie who looks up from his Ancient Runes essay interestedly. He abandons his quill and follows Hermione away from the group between two rows of books.

“Are you going to Slughorn’s party?” she asks.

“Yeah?” 

Hermione pauses but when McLaggen doesn’t fill in the empty silence she continues. “Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go together?”

“Er,” he blinks in surprise. “I’ve already asked someone else.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realise you already had a date.”

“It’s, er, more like a friends sort of thing.” 

“Pity,” says Hermione, taking a step towards him. “Well, let me know if anything comes up and you decide you’d like to go with someone else… as more than friends, I mean.” She squeezes his arm as she brushes past him and out of the library.

McLaggen stays rooted to the spot for a few seconds and blinks a few times before shaking his head and returning to the rest of the group with a bit more swagger than before.

“What was that all about, mate?” asks Eddie.

“Just breaking hearts left, right and centre,” McLaggen relaxes back in his chair, hands behind his head and recounting his conversations with you and Hermione.

“Hm…” Leanne gives McLaggen a knowing sort of look. “So you’re going as friends?”

“I’m just being a good wingman,” he says, a lot more breezily than he feels, and reorganises his parchment so he doesn’t catch Leanne’s eye.

Eddie laughs and slaps his back. “That makes more sense. Be a good lad and get her and Gwenog under the mistletoe.”

“Yeah, well I doubt she’ll need it,” agrees McLaggen, ignoring the empty pit in his stomach. “Gwen would be mad not to fall for her.”

Chapter 4: The Invitation

[dejavante]

heartworm | myg

synopsis: "Life always presented unexpected twists and turns; that much was always pretty much guaranteed and inevitable. But you never expected to fall in love with the man held captive in the old snow globe you found in your grandmother’s attic following her passing. If only you’d known your time together was limited, you probably would’ve spent less time throwing snarky and sarcastic remarks his way and would’ve instead confessed the feelings of your heart. It’s been weeks since his disappearance now, and you still can’t adjust to the void he’s left in your life. And no amount of wishing and praying over that snow globe will bring him back…"

↳ pairing: yoongi x reader

↳ genre: modern fantasy type AU! | fluff | a dash of angst but nothing that will have you balling your eyes out, lol

↳ word count: 2.1k

author's note: this is just a little drabble that I've been sitting on for a while now. I've been pretty uninspired lately and haven't been able to finish any of my longer pieces, so I thought maybe I should start off small. I say small, but this drabble is 2.1k words long... anyways, enjoy!

masterlist | asks

You'd hated this place from the moment your grandmother had bought it. There was something about the heavy musk of mould, and the nauseating rose air freshener that your nana would use to camouflage the stench that had you wrinkling your nose in distaste. Or perhaps what repelled you the most was the tedious hike up the cliff that left your legs aching for days to come and the old rickety front door that banged against the frame during its battle with the wind.

While it's true that you'd never done much to hide your dislike of your grandmother's home before, you'd found that there was an unusual calmness to the raging sea – something in its temperamental rocking and in its ruthless habit of violently crashing against the ridged boulders of the coast that painted an odd likeness of tranquillity.

You sit back in your seat with an airy sigh, fingers twisting into the worn material of the blue sweater you don as a means to preserve heat – though this wouldn't be much of a problem if only you could find the strength to tear away from the turbulent scenery to grab the comforter off your bed.

But alas, you can't seem to let your focus stray from the smudged window, not for the growing numbness in your fingers and certainly not for the fatigue that weighs down on you.

For every moment over the last few weeks that you couldn't express your agitations, the storm raging outside granted you a moment of much-needed relief. It helped in soothing the burning flame within, taming your sullen mood.

Your eyes flicker over to the crooked shelf above your bed, sifting through the trinkets you didn't have the heart to throw away before finding what you're looking for. The glass dome of the snow globe has long since lost its shine. Now, it no longer glistens under the dim lighting of the room with the thick blanket of dust that clings to its surface.

At some point, looking at it had become too hard. Remembering the gummy smile that would smile at you from over the glass dome or the baritone voice that droned on about the snowy scenery within, stopped giving you solace and became more like a nightmare. As a result, those nostalgic and intimate moments attached to the snow globe became more fragile than the thin sheen of glass that encircled the world within.

Perhaps that's why you chose to place it on that particular shelf. Because during another day of self-prescribed bed rest, you knew that you couldn't catch sight of that empty snow globe – remembering hurt too much. Although you'd wager that forgetting would amount to equal amounts of pain.

It's a loud clap of thunder that draws you from your long reverie, shooing away the clouds of gloomy thoughts and replacing them with a deep-seated feeling of longing. And oddly, it's in that flicker of emotion that you tried so hard to repress that you finally find the motivation to do more than just mope — to finally confront the reality that you'd been running away from for weeks now. So, with a sigh that is sodden with reluctance and dejection, you urge yourself to move, gaze remaining keenly focused on the object of your affections as you swing your legs off of the window seat and push yourself up.

The aged floorboards creak beneath your weight as you pad sluggishly across the room, singing atrociously off-key until you reach the foot of your bed and crawl on top of the unmade mess of sheets.

You barely manage to untangle yourself from the bedding as you tentatively reach out for the snow globe, allowing your fingers a moment to dance over the dome of glass. The signs of neglect disappear under your touch, and you hoped, a foolish tendency you knew, that as the strings of dust melted away to reveal a clearer view of the snowy scenery within, there would be a change of fate.

But your hope for his return had proved to be futile. Because, yet again, that lone piano sits in the snowy square awaiting a master that will never return to it. Likewise, you wait for a love that slipped through your fingers too early.

Yoongi was far from a perfect man — that much he'd expressed and admitted to you himself on multiple occasions. It was hard to get along with him initially, not with how frantic and frustrated he was with finding an escape from his curse now that he was free from his snow globe prison. And somewhere within his state of near insanity, it wasn't difficult to see that he was simply afraid of being forced to endure that solidarity all over again with no second chance at freedom.

"I'm not scared," He'd bite back, his tone bordering that of a petulant child about to have a tantrum. "You try being holed up in there for so long,"

Though oddly enough, Yoongi would wax poetics about the internal structure of the globe despite his hatred for being trapped within it. With high, frosty skies, bright strung lights, and a mellow atmosphere fabricated for the sole purpose of carrying the soft melody of his piano, he'd said that it bordered perfection.

"It's the sort of place that you share with someone," Yoongi had once explained softly. "It's not built for solidarity,"

The day he disappeared still resonates clearly in your mind as if it'd only occurred yesterday. It plagued your sleep and daydreams, relentlessly taunting you for the words you never dared confess out of fear. Not until it was too late, at least.

You weren't sure why you kept doing this to yourself. It was a system of torture to continue clinging to the idea that perhaps if you fed the snow globe enough of your tears, prayers, and affections, some sort of miracle would happen. Because each and every time, you were left disappointed and with another crack that the fragile mess of your heart was forced to bear during its futile battle against hope. Heaven knows you couldn't handle another battle, not with how close you were to shattering.

The sheets rustle underneath your movement as you shift to sit back on your haunches with the globe cupped securely within the warmth of your palms. For a moment, you're unsure of what to do, the unfamiliarity of the situation finally dawning upon you as you stare intently at the object of your affections.

You'd tried everything to avoid this moment, but you were always pulled back towards it by an invisible force that tempted the longing within you that was no longer satisfied by memories of him.

The glass glistens dully in the room's light as you twist the snow globe in your hold, surveying the snowy territory in all its different angles to perhaps find an abnormality that would lighten the bulb of hope. However, all you find in return is a distorted reflection of yourself in the glass that stares back at you, highlighting your swollen eyes and the hollowness of your cheeks.

You can already hear Yoongi's playful remark about your dishevelled appearance, and the thought garners a soft smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Though it's only a matter of seconds before the moment of bittersweet reminiscing gives away under the pressure of loneliness that quickly settles into your bones. The shift is gradual, languid and done with little effort. You begin to deflate, your shoulders sinking and globing around your frame protectively as you cradle the globe close to your chest.

"I really miss you," You whisper, voice watery and thick with the heaviness of unsorted emotions. "I didn't even get to tell you how much I love you.."

Being hung over someone for such a long time feels almost childish. And though you knew that the complexities of emotions were too far intricate to be dealt with within a matter of weeks, you still felt rather pathetic for torturing yourself this much. Especially with the uncertainty of how Yoongi felt towards you. Though you'd wager that your situation garnered an exception because in no way were your circumstances to be classified as normal.

A dry, humourless laugh bubbles past your lips as you press a palm to your eyes, wiping away the budding tears that blur your vision before the disorienting fog of self-pity can settle any deeper in your mind. You clear your throat and give your head a small shake to refocus yourself as you draw the globe away from your chest, steadying it in one hand as you reach out for the lever in the back with the other.

Under the delicate manoeuvre of your fingers, the cylinder begins to spin, plucking at the teeth of the comb to create a melody that encases each of your senses and casts a wave of nostalgia over you. The music is orchestrated in a subdued register, mellow and silky in its composition as if it were a lullaby. And if there was anything that reminded you of Yoongi the most, it would be this particular song with the way that it flowed effortlessly, engulfing the room in a soft and timid yet harmonious and enigmatic resonance that burst with passion.

You reach for the lever again as soon as the soft, fading echo of the concluding chords finally dies down and allows for a brief moment of comfortable silence. However, before your wrist can complete the first full turn of the mechanical arm again, your ears are flooded with the distant performance of the very same melody that had just faded into the tranquillity of the room.

For a beat, you remain motionless, heart pounding in your chest and mind unable to string together a coherent thought. You were damn near certain that this was nothing but a fabrication of your imagination, taunting you relentlessly for the regret you held and guiding you to the brink of insanity.

As if in a trance, your feet find the floor. Your grip on the snow globe loosens as you stumble towards the door, slipping from your grasp and shattering against the floor. The sound of the breakage bleeds into the background, becoming a second priority to the music you follow out of your room and down the corridor, like a sailor enchanted by a siren's song.

There's a moment as you reach the end of the hall when you flicker back to reality, pausing a mere few centimetres away from the spare room to contemplate the rationality of the situation. It hadn't escaped you that this entire set-up felt almost too good to be true — because in all the weeks of your misery and longing, why now?

But there was no mistaking that melody, not with the level of familiarity that you had with it. Its intricacy, like its composer, was both special and specific. You didn't need to see who the musician at your grandmother's old piano was to know in your heart who it was.

And yet, you find yourself hesitating to step forward and confirm your suspicion. Instead, you stare blankly at the door, heart thundering against your ribcage as you resist the urge to step forward and push the door open. Because even with how much time you'd spent practising and planning the words that you'd say to him if you were ever given a chance to meet again, you were certain that you wouldn't manage to utter a single word.

You don't notice when the music finally fades into the combined quietness of the house, nor do you hear the soft click of the door's mechanism turn as your hearing drowns in the dull and piercing ring that consumes your sense and renders you unbound to your surrounding.

The call of your name seems distant, its hand reaching out into the void of the ocean, where it becomes lost between the flickering of your muted sense as if it were a dream. And you would've gladly accepted it as that if it weren't for the palm that presses to your cheek to coax you back to reality.

You don't expect to be hit at full force by a surge of emotions when you step out of your reverie to meet the eyes of the one calling for you. And while his touch is wholeheartedly welcome, your emotional collapse isn't.

Yoongi offers a gentle smile of reassurance, his hand rising to wipe the trail of tears that slip down your cheeks before your face is cupped within his palms. You make no attempt to stop him as he inclines his forehead against yours, instead welcoming the close proximity he offers by leaning further into the warmth of his touch as he murmurs something indistinguishable to your clouded mind before his lips find yours.

"I love you too,"

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[senditcolton]

call my bluff... call you babe (1)

CHAPTER ONE

summary - an old friend reaches out to Madeleine on what she was sure will go down as one of the worst days in her life thus far. 

word count - 2.1k

a/n - first chapter and first time we are into the meat of this story! as a reminder, this starts in the 2018-2019 playoff run and will continue into the 2019-2020 season (except it will be set in a covid-free universe) 

previous part ~ playlist ~ series masterlist ~ join the taglist ~ next part

The slamming of the front door echoes around the apartment as Madeleine storms in, hot angry tears slightly blinding her, her hand still clenched around the surprise graduation present for her boyfriend.

Well, now, her ex-boyfriend.

She throws the gift-wrapped box onto the sofa, not caring where it landed as she continues her heavy steps down the hall and into her bedroom. As soon as the door is closed and her shoes are kicked into a corner, Madeline collapses face first onto her mattress, the plush cotton of her covers swallowing the angry shriek that she had been holding inside since she left Logan’s house.

Eventually, the rage and anger and adrenaline wear off and as Madeleine rolls over to stare at the ceiling above her, feeling completely… empty.

God, I’m such an idiot, she thinks, her mind flashing back to just a few moments earlier.

Driving to her boyfriend’s house. Grabbing his present off the passenger seat. Opening the door with the very same key he had given to her six months before. Hearing him upstairs. Walking into his bedroom to find him in bed with some other girl.

Choking back every emotion that she wanted to express. Instead, disappearing without a word.

She didn’t know if Logan even knew she was there.

Maybe there’s a reason. Maybe it was my fault, she thinks to herself. I haven’t been as attentive as a girlfriend, not since I graduated last December. With him still busy at school and me busy with work, maybe that’s why. Whatever the reason, he’ll explain it and tell me it was a one-time thing and we will move on from there, stronger than before. This happens to everyone, at least once. Nothing we can’t overcome.

Madeleine was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of her cellphone chiming, alerting a new text message. Blindly reaching out across the bedsheets, she grabs her phone to see that it was Logan contacting her. And as she reads the text, any hope Madeleine had of salvaging this relationship was quickly dashed, like a ship on the rocky coast.

Hey, I can’t make it to dinner tonight. Work just called. Sorry baby. Received on April 18th at 5:46pm

He was blatantly lying to her. She knew that now.

Opening the text conversation she had with Logan, she scrolls back through their messages and starts to count the number of times he had sent her a similar excuse. And after each excuse, the fire in her chest started to burn brighter and more ferociously.

One-time thing, my ass, she thinks as she hits the fifteenth apology. If the texts she was reading were any indication, this had been going on for months, ever since Logan had gotten that new internship.

Hell, was the internship even real? Or was that just another excuse? Madeleine wasn’t sure of the answer and now, she wasn’t even sure that she wanted to know.

Hatred must have been fueling her next actions as she swipes back down to the most recent message and types out a quick reply.

That’s fine. The reservations are still good so if you want to take the brunette you were in bed with today, you can. They are at 7pm under the name Madeleine. Sent on April 18th at 5:58pm

As soon as the message was sent, Madeleine throws the phone across the room, listening to the dull thud it makes as it hits the carpet. A deep sigh falls from her chest as she collapses back across the bed.

What a fucking mess.

Madeleine isn’t sure how long she’s laid there, her mind completely blank. The light shining in from the windows slowly dims from the golden light of sunset to the dusky greys of the early evening. Eventually, she lifts herself up off the bed and wanders over to her vanity, taking in her haggard appearance, mascara streaked and eyes still puffy. She sighs once more, running her hand through her hair and attempts to wipe away the black circles from under her eyes.

There is no clear path on what to do now. No one really makes a handbook on ‘what to do after you catch your boyfriend in the act of cheating on you’. So, instead of thinking about the grand scheme of things, Madeleine decides to start small.

Hop into the shower and try to wash this entire day away.

As soon as the water temperature is just right, Madeleine steps in, the steam and warmth enveloping her. The first relaxed breath she has taken in hours whooshes through her and she takes the time to stand there, letting the water run over her.

After a few moments, Madeleine finds herself going through the motions while her brain decides to –   once again – run through every tiny detail of her previous relationship.

Part of her knew. Some small part of her had been screaming for the past few months, telling her something was off. But she hadn’t wanted to believe it. Logan was the first long-term boyfriend that she had had since high school. She wanted that to last.

When she first met him, he was the loud, slightly obnoxious guy that sat next to her in her Intro to Philosophy class sophomore year. She figured he wouldn’t even notice the quiet girl that sat across the row from him and she didn’t really make an effort to try and be noticed. But a month into the school year, she ran into him at a bar downtown and he remembered her name. It caught her by surprise. And it caught her even more off guard when he offered to buy her a drink.

They ended up talking for the rest of the night and the next day in class, while she was writing down the notes that Mr. Lauer had up on the chalkboard, a crumpled piece of paper landed on her desk. She glanced over to the other side of the aisle to see Logan glance at her out of the corner of his eye. Unfolding the paper, she saw the hastily scrawled note: ‘want to grab drinks at the 1905 tonight? Please text your response to the number below’

That was their first official date and their relationship just took off from there. Madeleine didn’t even know why he picked her out of all the other girls wandering around campus. But part of her believed that she balanced him out.

Logan was always dragging her out to clubs and bars with his friends whereas she convinced him that a quiet night studying, with plenty of snacks, in one of the private rooms the library could be just as fun. He lifted her up while she mellowed him down. And it worked. She wanted to make it work with him. And it did, for two whole years. Until now.

Madeleine wracked her brain, trying to figure out what changed. Was it because she graduated a semester early? Maybe because she wasn’t there on campus with him, maybe that caused the spark to die.

But as soon as that thought passes through her mind, she scoffs. It wasn’t her responsibility to stay attached to Logan’s side to make sure he didn’t cheat. Not cheating on your partner was just the bare minimum in any relationship.

Madeleine instead just sighs, shaking her head as she turns off shower, wringing the water from her hair before stepping out.

Whatever the reason, or whatever bullshit excuse that Logan may try to give her, she was done. If the women in her life, the women she grew up around had taught her anything, it was to never cut yourself down in order to fit into a situation where you didn’t belong.

Madeleine wraps herself in her fluffy white robe before padding into the kitchen and pouring herself a hefty glass of red wine before pulling a pint of her emergency ice cream out of the freezer and making her way back to the bedroom.

Grabbing her phone off the floor, her eyes scan over the texts and missed calls from Logan, ignoring every single one of them as she unlocks the phone. Instead, she crawls back into her bed, throwing on her comfort movie and debates calling her mom or one of her friends to rant to them.

After a brief contemplation, she decides against it. Things still felt too fresh, so much so that she couldn’t even begin to unravel her own emotions, let alone try and explain them to someone else.

So instead, Madeleine opens her Instagram and posts a photo of her wine glass and ice cream onto her stories, just to put some sort of explanation out there before placing the phone facedown on her nightstand and turning her attention elsewhere.

She’s about halfway through the first season of the original 1969 Scooby-Doo when she hears her phone buzz. Madeleine picks it up to look at whatever notification came in. And is slightly shocked to see the words within the banner blazed across her screen.

Instagram: josty17 sent you a message

Tyson. Madeleine hadn’t talked to him in ages, not since he left their shared small hometown to chase his dreams of playing professional hockey.

Curiosity gets the better of her and before Madeleine can register what her hands are doing, she has opened the app and clicked on his message.

josty17: rough day?

Her fingers type off a quick response before she can really overthink why she was entertaining this conversation with someone she hadn’t seen in almost five years.

madsmurph: You have no idea.

Part of Madeleine thought that might be the end of it. If she really thought about it, a picture of a full glass of wine and a pint of ice cream would raise concern, or at the very least some questions.

But since Tyson wasn’t a part of her life anymore, Madeleine figures that this one question and her vague explanation would most likely be the end of it.

Until her phone buzzes again with another message.

josty17: need a distraction?

madsmurph: Please tell me you’re not trying to pick me up Tyson Jost. madsmurph: I sometimes talk to Kacey and she’d be mortified about you sliding into my DM’s.

josty17: fuck. i just realized how that sounded josty17: that’s not what I meant josty17: please don’t tell Kacey

Madeleine can’t stop the slight snort of laughter that escapes her, the first happy sound she made this day, at the panic in Tyson’s rapid messaging. She quickly assuages his fears by typing out her response.

madsmurph: I won’t. I promise. madsmurph: What’s the distraction?

josty17: the Avs, the hockey team I play for, we’re in Calgary tomorrow night for the playoffs josty17: i have an extra ticket if you want to come and watch the game

The offer on her screen gives her pause. Why was he offering her this? Again, they hadn’t spoken in years. And yes, while she didn’t hold any resentment towards him or felt like their friendship ended poorly… this wasn’t something that you offered your childhood best friend that you lost contact with years ago.

madsmurph: I wouldn’t want to intrude…

She watches as the dots that indicate Tyson’s imminent response appear and for some reason, her heartbeat increases the more those circles bounce on her screen. And when Tyson’s message appears, her heart doesn’t settle like she would’ve expected it to.

Instead, it leaps.

josty17: you aren’t. my family couldn’t make it and josty17: it’d be nice to have someone cheering for me in the stands.

A small smile tugs at her lips. This was the Tyson that she remembered; the sweetest person she knew. And now, here he was again, messaging her on one of her worst days. As if he could tell she needed someone so she wouldn’t be alone in her sadness.

Tyson was doing this, without prompting, without demanding an answer. All he asked in return was for Madeleine to support him as well, albeit in a slightly different capacity.

How could she refuse?

madsmurph: Okay Josty. I’ll come.

josty17: awesome! maybe after the game we can hang out and catch up

madsmurph: You don’t have to go straight back to Colorado?

josty17: not if we win

madsmurph: Well then, you better win.

josty17: missed me that much? 😜

The question was rhetorical, comical. So reminiscent of the texts Tyson used to send her almost every day back when they were two stupid kids trying to figure out their lives.

Madeleine knew she didn’t need to give him an answer. And she didn’t.

But her still wounded heart spoke, the truth reverberating around her ribcage:

More than you know.

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