#truly didn't expect to be sitting there for like 3-4 hours but it was worth it!

[trashycosmos]

i got my tattoo touched up the night before and then got my second tattoo yesterday morning and i'm so obsessed with it 😍😍😍 literally cannot wait to get color added

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

[dearmantis]

For I'm too busy committing sins

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x Durast!Reader

Summary: The next experiment with Merzost has unforseen side effects and you finally realize that you have not only poked a bear with your greed for knowledge and power. No, you've signed your fate.

Warnings: I'm blatantly ignoring the established rules of the magic system, English is not my native language and this isn't really edited

Word Count: 3.6k

Authors' Note: Sorry this took so long, I just can't write sometimes. Title is still from the fruits, just like the others from the series. We have a two week time skip here, sorry for that but this made the most sense to me. let's hope part 4 will be finished quicker :/

Part 1 | Previous Part | Series Masterlist

The first time you summon you're pretty sure you didn't have to pay a price, not really. You don't notice anything odd on the second try either.

It's the third time that ends up having clear, unforeseen consequences.

You just sat down in your freshly filled, steaming bathtub, scrubbing your skin with a sponge almost an hour after your latest experiment finished when you notice it. Fine lines, as silver as the moon and shimmering like the surface of a mirror, are slowly starting to form on the underside of your arms. It's faint and seems to be spreading slowly, but you can already see what it is.

The words you use to summon are starting to appear on your skin, syllable after syllable etching themselves in tiny letters into the organ, mixed up and spread widely all over the surface of both of your arms, connected to indicate their correct order despite the chaos by long lines that loosely remind you of depictions of star constellations.

No matter how much you scrub, how much soap and force you use, it does not go away.

Burying your face in your hands you pull your legs to your chest and try to suppress any pitiful sounds of frustration. There is simply no point to cry about your own stupidity, no matter how strong the wish to do just that is. What is done is done and now all you can do is hope and pray to the saints that the experiment was worth it and that the writing stays on your arms where it's easy to cover with your kefta.

Wrapping your arms around your legs you stare up to the ceiling of the bathroom, your thoughts rushing through your brain at a speed higher than even the shadows of the General, spurred on by your own anxiety.

Working alone has been a blessing for you. You're good at what you do, so good that you're arguably one of the most, if not the most talented Durast currently staying at the Little Palace. Your work is efficient and exact in a way rarely seen in Durasts that only do repetitive tasks for years like you have, giving you lots of time to experiment with the forbidden science since you make progress with your smoke grenades quicker than most people would expect from you.

And now all of that extra time to plan and go through with experiments has come to bite you.

Groaning quietly your gaze moves towards the small window on the left of the bathtub. It's dark outside, but that doesn't mean much, not during winter. Dinner will not start for another 3 hours and you're honestly not sure if you're even going to attend. Now that you know that physical evidence of your deeds can be found on your skin simply leaving your room feels like a risk.

It's a stupid fear, you know this. There's no way anyone would force you to take off your kefta, no way for anyone to see what is going on, but you can't silence your own mind. The fear still sits in your heart, spreading it's wings and sharpening it's claws to make sure it will never loose hold, will never be exterminated from your heart like the parasite it truly is.

But it's not like you can just never eat with the other Grisha ever again. You're just a normal Grisha, they will never make exceptions for you.

Mind wandering you continue to stare outside, creating and scrapping plan after plan until the bathing water is ice cold, your mind however far too deeply hidden in the clouds for you to notice until one of the servants finally chooses to hesitantly knock on the door.

You turn your head towards her, humming quietly to signal that she can enter.

"Miss, dinner is about to begin" She announces and you pause for just a second, trying to comprehend what the woman has just said.

Dinner is about to begin? Saints, are you so stuck in your own mind that you bathed for three hours without noticing?

Your arms are tightly pressed against your torso as your eyes dart through the room, looking for a robe or towel to cover yourself up with before you simply stare back at the servant. She mirrors your looks, eyes slowly widening as she gets more and more confused and scared because of your intense eye contact, reminding you a bit of a surprised deer. Slowly, as if she's trying to get away from a predator, she turns around, attempting to escape the room, when a sentence finally forms on your tongue, an idea so horrible and stupid that it shocks even you filling your mind like a poisonous gas.

"I'm actually not gonna eat with the others today." You say before you can stop yourself. "I decided to resume my training with Baghra and I though the best way to ask her would be during a meal. Could you bring my portion of dinner to her hut?"

As soon as the words leave your mouth you want to push your head under the water and drown yourself. Baghra is still mad at you. Sure, she knows about your experiments with merzost and might even know something about the writings on your arms, but she also hates your guts right now. Well, she has always hated you, but it's definitely a lot worse now than it was two wreks ago. Also, nothing good has ever happened in Baghras hut, every Grisha knows that. It's unwritten law at the Little Palace.

The servant stares at you for a few more seconds, eyes round like plates, before she gives you a nod that is too enthusiastic to be real and a smile that is so terrifyingly false that a shiver runs down your spine.

"Of course" She answers, and then she's gone like lightning. You stare at the spot she occupied for a few seconds, silently hoping that she was just scared of you because you're behaving weirdly and not because she noticed something fundamentally wrong about you.

Sighing quietly you finally stand up, cold water dripping from your naked body as you step out of the tub and walk out of your tiny bathroom, back into your room, shivering like a leaf in the wind.

Pulling out the towel you foolishly forgot to bring into the bathroom you dry off your body, getting closer to the candle on your desk to look at the lines one more time. They're still thin like sowing needles, colour shifting in the candlelight. The skin around it is sensitive and hot to the touch from all of the scrubbing you've done to get the writings off and your eyes move to the clean kefta hanging in your closet, then the many white shirts right next to it. Even the newest one will probably continue to irritate your skin and you regret taking that bath altogether.

Your eyes dart to the clock on your desk. Dinner will begin soon and you'd prefer to arrive around the same time as your food to make sure the old woman has no chance to spit into your meal.

It's not like you can ask a healer to fix your problem - they would all report the patterns on your skin to the general - so all you can do is quickly wrap one of the bandages you've been hoarding in your desk around your arms before getting dressed and slipping out of your room.

You're almost at the entrance of the Little Palace when you walk around a corner, directly into an Oprichniki. You're pretty sure it's the same one you ran into last time as well, recognizing his copper-like haircolour and the sharp look in his eyes. Quickly moving to the side you keep your eyes on the ground, not wiling to repeat the events that followed the last time you accidentally ran into an Oprichniki.

The saints are not merciful, however, because only a few heartbeats later the smooth, polite voice of the General reaches your ear. "Ah, I'm glad to see you. You've been quite busy, or so I've heard. How are the experiments on the prototypes going?"

Forcing a smile onto your lips you look up, meeting the Generals gaze shakily. "It's going fine, sir. The last two weeks have been quite work intense for me but I got used to working alone quickly. I believe I might even miss it after I'm finished."

He mirrors your smile. "I'm glad to hear that. It's always good to see Grisha find the right environment to flourish. Maybe we could make it a permanent arrangement."

Kirigan looks around for a few seconds, before holding out his hand for you to take. "Would you allow me to walk you to dinner?"

"Oh, I'm not planning to eat with the others tonight." You answer quickly, eyes focused on his hands. What if he touches me again? Sure, he doesn't seem to have noticed anything odd about me the first time we touched, nor the second time, but now I have those markings and I don't know what they do.

Dropping his hand the dark eyes of the General look you over and you feel like he's looking though your clothes, your skin, your muscles, right at your soul, and thinks of what he finds as lacking. Like he can see every single sin you've ever committed.

"You shouldn't overwork yourself too much. You have all the time in the world to finish the-"

You cut him off, nervous energy bubbling deep in your stomach and signaling to your brain to pump you full of adrenaline. You need to get away. Away from him, away from your little workshop, away from the poor bird sitting in a cage down there. Your hands are shaking and your throat feels like you swallowed a handful of wood and metal shavings.

"I'm not working on the grenades tonight. I already finished my work for today. I chose to eat with Baghra tonight."

His eyes narrow, just a tiny bit, and your muscles tense as if your body is instinctively preparing to run from the danger right in front of you. "Is there a reason why you're choosing to dine with your old teacher? I hope you didn't run into any issues with your work."

Shaking your head quickly you try to give a reassuring smile, but you're sure it looks more like a grimace. "No, no issues at all. I just thought I might reconnect with her. It has been years since I last had a conversation with her, after all."

"I'm glad to hear that, but I have to admit that I still don't understand. As far as I know she's not particularly... popular. How come she's the one you want to reconnect with and not any of your other teachers?"

Saints why can't he just leave me alone. Why does he have to question everything?

"I just felt like meeting up with her would be nice, especially since I feel like I've grown a lot as a person since we last said goodbye all those years ago. It's like the otkazat'sya always say: Distance makes the heart grow fonder."

The laugh you force out afterwards feels like acid in your mouth, but you can't give up now. You're three lies deep already and have finished the groundwork to get out of this conversation. Giving in this late would be pathetic.

"Anyways, I'm so incredibly sorry to reject you like this and leave you standing in a hallway but I really have to get going. I don't want to insult Baghra and show up late to our meeting. I promise I will deliver the prototypes by the end of the week and to make up for the rejection I promise to design and make whatever your heart desires after my work is done, moy soverenyi."

Before he gets a chance to respond you're already jogging around another corner, leaving the Little Palace entirely not even thirty seconds later.

It's cold outside, a thin layer of frost on the grass and leaves making everything sparkle in the moonlight. In the distance you can see a servant walking with hurried steps back to the Little Palace, coming from the direction of the hut, and a frown appears on your face, your own steps speeding up again. Luckily it hasn't snowed yet so your trip doesn't take long, arriving at her hut only a few minutes after the servant must've left.

You don't bother with knocking, instead choosing to take one last deed breath of the freezing air before ripping the door open and stepping into the dark hut.

The tolerance to the heat in her house that you've build up while you still regularly trained with her has long disappeared, the warm humidity making breathing even harder than it already is due to the panic attack threatening to overwhelm you since you discovered the marks.

This is not a good day for you and your mental health.

"You could at least do me a favor an turn on a candle or two." You say quietly into the all consuming darkness as you step into the room where you know Baghra eats her dinner. Thankfully you still now the layout of her living quarters like the back of your hand.

"I knew it was you the second the servant mentioned someone invited themselves into my house." The woman responds, her voice sharp and clearly angry at you. "And since when do you need light? I trained you long enough to know you can see more than enough with your powers!"

Your jar clenches in frustration as you wake your gift to find your way to a chair, sitting down quickly and locating the plate where your food waits on the small table in front of you. All of your fear is gone, annoyance and frustration taking its place as the familiarity of Baghra and her home hit you.

In your mind you're five, being dragged in here for the first time by one of the Servants and a Corporalki guard, Baghra looking down at you as if you're a particularly disgusting stain on an expensive carpet.

Then you're seven, cowering on the floor in front of Baghras chair, holding onto her long skirt. Your body aches horribly after a few Corporalki children decided to practice on you against your will. You beg her to tell the General but she just looks down at you, black eyes cold despite the warm candle light flickering in them. "You're a Fabrikator, child. He doesn't care about your kind. You just have to pay more attention to your surroundings, run faster, and get stronger. That's all you can do. No one is gonna safe you."

You're eight, sleeping on her doorstep at the end of autumn, hiding from the other students, the cold air creeping into your bones. She doesn't open the door but you wake up to a steaming cup of tea standing next to you.

You're thirteen, carefully using your powers to look for a special type of ring hidden somewhere in the pitch black hut. The dark still scares you, like it scares most kids, and you can't help yourself. You're starting to get anxious, your control over your powers wavering as your movements get more hectic and your breathing quickens. In your panic you miss the leg of a chair, falling down with a squeak and ripping the skin on your knees and palms open. Baghra clicks with her tougue, disapointment audible, and a second later a match goes up in flames. The woman stares down at you and shakes her head.

You're sixteen, saying goodbye to her one last time, silently promising yourself that you will never step into this house again, no matter what happens.

Grabbing a piece of bread you rip off a piece and put some pickled herring on top, chewing the bite quickly before moving onto the next. Based on the movements of Baghras bones and the containers she's holding you're pretty sure she's drinking tea instead of eating. She must be waiting for you to speak, that's the only explanation for her silence. Or she's waiting for you to finish eating to kick you out, but that would suggest that she has something like manners and cares about hospitality and that just seems unrealistic to you.

Clearing your throat you grab a glass full of water, lifting it up and taking a few sips while starring into the shapeless, all consuming darkness, your powers carefully feeling around the room, looking for familiar items that could maybe give you a feeling of security.

When you place the glass back down you force the words out of your mouth.

"I think I made a horrible mistake."

The silence that follows reminds you of the kind that fills the air after an explosion in the labs. Deafening and gruesome, full of dread because for a few seconds no one knows if anyone got hurt, if someone might be dead or if they lost a limb and don't notice because of adrenaline. It's a sick, horrible ringing in your ear that only disappears when she finally responds, annoyance clear like daylight in her tone.

"Of course you have, idiot. I told you that two weeks ago. Glad that you finally caught up as well." She hisses, angrily placing the teacup back on the table, the porcelain breaking as soon as it makes contact with the wood. You drop your next bite of fish and bread back onto your plate, wordlessly reaching for the shards of the cup. Baghra tries to swat your hands away but you simply hit back into her direction, no longer a child that gets scared of her antics, pulling the pieces to your side of the table and grabbing the first few pieces to fuse them back together.

"Does the cup have a pattern I have to pay attention to while I repair it?"

You feel the way she shakes her head no, then she scoffs. "I'm not gonna save your life because you fixed my cup."

"I don't expect you to."

Neither of you says another word until you finish fixing the cup, carefully placing it back down on the table. A few seconds later Baghra lights a match, using it to set the wick of the candle that's standing between you two on the table on fire.

Soft, warm light fills the room and you look at the woman, watching as she picks up the cup and looks it over, checking your work like she used to when you were still her student.

As soon as she's done she sets it back down, using the napkin you got with your food to soak up the tea that she spilled.

"Your best work yet. Good to see that your brain didn't fully rot away while making corecloth and playing around with merzost."

"Oh, I actually haven't made any corecloth since your visit. The General ordered me to work on my own to make smoke grenades. I think he might be finally noticing my talent."

You don't expect her to throw the wet napkin at you so you don't even flinch when it hits your face full force.

"He noticed that you're messing with things and is isolating you to see what you're doing when you feel safe, you idiot! You're being played. I've told you a thousand times that he does not care for the Fabrikators, what makes you think you're the exception?"

She jumps up, long hair whipping around her head as she stares you down. "When he looks at you he does not see good ideas or talent. He sees something odd. Something that's not right. Something he does not understand. Do not be fooled. I taught you better than to fall for simple tricks like this."

You don't dare to move, not even after she sits back down and eyes your plate for a few seconds before grabbing a piece of bread and fish for herself.

"Now, tell me what idiotic things you've done so I know how to get you out of it."

So you tell her, beginning right at the start. You tell her how you couldn't take the constant mistreatment from your fellow Grisha anymore, people who thought you were weak and an easy target because you're a Durast and not an Inferni or Heartrender. How you started combing through every book, every notebook, every letter you could find to figure out how to become stronger and ultimately ended up with choosing merzost as the only viable solution to your problem.

When you arrive at the part where you have to explain today's experiment, the first attempt at making an actual amplifier, she buries her face in her hands and stays like that for ten minutes, refusing to look at you even after you finish your retelling of the events of the last months.

Her voice is tired and strained when she finally does speak, slightly muffled through her hands. "Did you at least free the bird you used?"

"Why should I? It didn't work."

Finally lifting her head she looks you over for a few seconds before snatching your hand from the table, fingers clawing into your skin. You wait for the amplification to start like it always did in the past, but nothing happens.

Shaking her head she lets go, leaning back in her chair.

"That's what I thought. It has no effect anymore. You don't know if it worked or not, you can't test it. And considering that you said you have markings on your skin I'm guessing you successfully made an amplifier. You already payed the price for summoning it after all."

A frown appears on your face, but before you can even think about asking what she means she continues speaking. "You can't be amplified anymore. That's the price, the corruption you suffered. You're on your own now. You wanted to summon merzost to make yourself stronger and now all you can do is make others more powerful."

Part 4 - The fruits of my labour

Taglist: @shawty-writes-a-little @dreamlandcreations

[seeminglyseph]

I swear I didn't mean to fall back into Critical Role bullshit but if Gale wasn't so Unfailingly British I would've been more suspicious about how extremely similar his wizard angst aesthetic was geared towards Caleb Widogast fans.

When that Mighty Nein animated series comes out I'm gonna be throwing more bread crumbs at the Gale stans to try and get people to come join me because so far I've been sitting here tossing them from ShadowGast hell like 'I'm sorry I know it's a huge time commitment, I really don't expect you to watch that whole thing, truly I know it's way too much, they are planning on animating it! I know Essek doesn't show up until episode 57! I'm sorry! I know! it's so good though! I think it's their best campaign! I know it's very long! I really wish there was an official abridged cut! I'm sorry! It's really got the best characters even if it's a bit of a slow start! I know! I'm sorry! It's so good! It changed me as a person! Yeah Sam Riegel is dressed as a leprechaun during one of the most emotional episodes, I know! He still does a great fucking speech dressed as a leprechaun.'

And I'm throwing more bread crumbs. The Mighty Nein are so important to me. It was one thing to watch the campaign as it came out, it's impossible to express that it's worth watching as 141 4+ hour episodes of content to people now. especially as campaign 2 out of 3. but I genuinely love them the most and I'm sorry for Vox Machina and Bell's Hells purests I just. love the Nein. I will freely admit that I am biased and it's my opinion and probably just like. because I relate to them more and found the plots and storylines more compelling because they resonated with me and where I was in my life not any particular objective level of like. Good or Bad. But like. I just. Love them a lot. and I want to share it with everyone. and I struggle to let go because I'm a dweeb. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my aggressive dweeb disease. aaaaaa.

[rafaelblackbird15]

Teen Wolf Fic Recs Part 4: Sterek

These are Sterek, Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale fanfictions.

I really love these. They are some of my favourite Sterek stories, and ALL of these are absolutely beautiful. Without a doubt. Send the authors some love, because that's what they've given me and us right here. :)

If there is a problem with any of the links, let me know and I will fix them.

For appropriate reading check the hashtags on the actual fics.

I hope you enjoy these as much as I did.

And check out my other Steter fic recs [Part 1] and [Part 2] and Sterek fic recs [Part 3]

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God Brings The Wounded by CallieB on Archive of Our Own

Words: 4938

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

“Jesus,” Stiles says, when he sees Derek for the first time, and feels his face do that thing where it tries to smile. Derek, or the weirdly fresh-faced teenage version of Derek that he is now, doesn’t flinch at Stiles’ exclamation.

He’s too busy flinching at everything else.

 

Requested by the lovely nohomohomie, who asked for something angsty post-nogitsune.

Has got to be one of my favourite canon teenage/de-aged Derek fics, with beautiful, angsty Sterek, of course.

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You're Not You by CallieB on Archive of Our Own

Words: 5266

Chapters: 1/1

Part 9 of the Sterek Bingo 2017 series

Summary:

Stiles lifts his head slowly, meeting Derek’s gaze. His eyes… they’re always clever, bright, perceptive, but today there’s something in them that Derek doesn’t recognise. He’s pale, but not defeated. He looks stronger than Derek expected. And unexpectedly, he feels it flash through him in a bolt of absolute, though surprised, certainty.

That's not Stiles.

 

Written for the Dark!Stiles square on my Sterek Bingo card.

This story is possibly one of the best EVER Void!Stiles stories I have ever read. The idea is complex and fascinating and unique. After I read this for the first time I was left stunned and I kept coming back to it in my mind as well as to read because I couldn't get over the idea. It's beautiful.

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Yeah, Pass The Salt, Stiles by CallieB on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3609

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Yeah, pass the salt, Stiles.

They're not particularly inspiring words. Not like the long stream of goo spilling over Scotty's arm. But somewhere, Stiles' soulmate is out there, waiting to say them to him.

If only he could stop thinking about the mysterious hot stranger he met in the woods...

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Author: CallieB

This author has 15 Teen Wolf works, most if not all are Sterek. Some of them in particular really hit somewhere special.

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Behind Locked Doors by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 11128

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Derek often showed up in his room—at least he used the fucking door now that he knew where the spare key was hidden—and he couldn’t escape people in general in the Jeep since they could see him through the window. His dad was home, and when he wasn’t, there was always the risk of other people showing up.

His bathroom, on the other hand? No, his bathroom was a small room with no window in the middle of the house with a lockable door and no judgement. He could sit in the bathroom for hours, and no one would question it. Was he watching porn on his phone and jerking off? Was he taking a massive dump? Did he have constipation? Was he stitching up the millionth injury of the month in private? Who knew? No one but Stiles!

The locked door at his back felt like a safety net for him sometimes. In the bathroom, he didn’t have to pretend. He didn’t have to smile and wave people’s words off, insist he was fine, laugh and act like everything was okay. In the bathroom, he was allowed to sit on the floor, his expression tight, and his body falling apart on him.

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Author: isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

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Should Have Looked on Craigslist by Akiruchan on Archive of Our Own

Words: 27217

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Derek is rash and self-sacrificing, everything that will one day get him killed. Stiles doesn't want that. He's become too accustomed to a life with Derek Hale in it. To live without, well, it just doesn't seem to be an option.

or...

The five times Stiles' expectations fall short, and the one time he's glad they do.

This is an incredible, slow burn, build of the winding relationship between Stiles and Derek and the world they now live in, side by side. It's wonderful and blessedly long.

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Bless You by Ankiruchan on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3070

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

It all started with a sneeze...

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Lend Me Your Eyes, Give Me Your Heart by Ankiruchan on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3057

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Stiles’ life sucks. He’s honest enough with himself to admit to at least that. More often than not he spends his free time running for his life, saving people from creatures who want to rip his face off, and all around having a distinct lack of self-preservation. It sort of comes with the territory. Not something he can avoid when his circle of friends happen to be werewolves.

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Nobody's Fault But Mine by Akiruchan on Archive of Our Own

Words: 26552

Chapters: 4/?

Summary:

Stiles has always been good at ignoring his problems. Preferring to wait them out until they are nothing but a distant memory. But when a midnight stroll leads to a nasty scratch to Stiles side, courtesy of Derek, Stiles finds that some things just can't be ignored, not that he doesn't try. Better hearing and improved eyesight, that is something he can ignore for now. The sudden urge to touch and smell Derek all the time? Not so much.

This is werewolf!Stiles, and it's one the of the laid back, kind, intense versions that I enjoy very much. Unfortunately, I think it's been discontinued, but I believe even so, these 4 chapters are worth the little heartbreak that comes with the knowledge it may not be finished.

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Author: Akiruchan

This author is responsible for some of the best slow build Sterek stories I've read.

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Lock All The Doors Behind You by entanglednow on Archive of Our Own

Words: 25960

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one.

I've come back to this so many times. The relationship is so vulnerable, down to earth and open and kind, extremely kind, which is something Derek really lacks in his life, someone to be kind to him. There's a feeling, somehow, that this is quite natural for them.

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In Case Of Emergency by entanglednow on Archive of Our Own

Words: 1826

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Derek falls through Stiles's bedroom window at ten past midnight.

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By Any Other Name by entanglednow on Archive of Our Own

Words: 33090

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

He doesn't know his name, he doesn't know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he's on the run with. But he's pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.

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I Could Find My Way Back by entanglednow on Archive of Our Own

Words: 6250

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

What's the worst that could happen?

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Author: entanglednow

This author is responsible for so many amazing fics out there. They have 55 Teen Wolf fics, all with really interesting ideas and takes on the characters and supernatural world.

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You want forgiveness (I'll give that to you) by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 2806

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Derek is running from the Alpha, suffering from wolfsbane poisoning and he’s clearly losing it. Why else would he be seeing his mother - and everyone else he might as well have killed himself. But Stiles can’t just let him get what he deserves. Stiles never leaves him behind, even when he should.

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(Fuck you they said) As they threw their threads from their wedding bed by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie) on Archive of Our Own

Words: 96199

Chapters: 9/9

Summary:

First Son Stiles Stilinski just accidentally caused an international incident. And apparently the only way to save human-werewolf relations is to marry him off to Prince Derek of Triskele. Stiles is going to need all of his acting skills to make the marriage look real, because the Prince is kind of a fucking asshole.

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Author: dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)

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fake empire by Poe on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3685

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Stiles hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. He was going to tell Derek. The whole truth of it. He was halfway through when the phone rang. A half-finished sentence, left hanging in the air as his life crumbled around him.

*

(or: Stiles gets so, so lost. But he finds himself again.)

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you all over me by Poe on Archive of Our Own

Words: 3705

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

The thing about Stiles is, Derek thinks, is that he has no idea how enthralling he truly is. He’s easy to overlook, right up until the point he isn’t, and at some stage, Derek started looking, and now, it’s all he can do.

(or: the one where the pack is happy, healthy and alive, and Stiles and Derek are sort of inevitable)

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Author: Poe

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For If Dreams Die by veritas_st on Archive of Our Own

Words: 24169

Chapters: 8/8

Summary:

“I had a dream about a boy last night,” Mischief says through a mouthful of pancakes. His dad points the spatula at him and he swallows before he says anything else. “His name was Derek. He called me Stiles. I want to be called that from now on.”

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Author: veritas_st

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About Today by rufflefeather on Archive of Our Own

Words: 8901

Chapters: 1/1

Part 1 of the inside these arms series

Summary:

Stiles is having the worst day of his life and it keeps happening.

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Until Tomorrow by rufflefeather on Archive of Our Own

Words: 9016

Chapters: 1/1

Part 2 of the inside these arms series

Summary:

Derek's worst nightmares didn't prepare him for this.

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Let it be me by rufflefeather on Archive of Our Own

Words: 1495

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

After everything that happened, Stiles goes to see Derek.

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Even the stars they burn by rufflefeather on Archive of Our Own

Words: 5770

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Derek finds out quite by accident what makes Stiles shut up. If he reveals along the way that he didn't always carry this darkness around, then that's entirely Stiles' fault.

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Solstice. by rufflefeather on Archive of Our Own

Words: 4119

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

It's the first total lunar eclipse during winter solstice in three hundred and fifty years and Derek has no idea what's going to happen.

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Author: rufflefeather

This author has some intense, sometimes heartbreakingly endearing, and wonderful Teen Wolf fics.

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Hear The Wheels As They Roll by crossroadswrite on Archive of Our Own

Words: 44919

Chapters: 2/2

Summary:

“You can’t be here. This is private property,” someone calls out and for some reason that voice sounds painfully familiar.

When it hits him why, Stiles almost chokes with the realization, “Derek Hale,” he says, unbelievably happy because he remembers Derek when they were young.

Derek looks grumpier, sadder, angrier. Stiles can’t really fault him for that. He also looks surprised that Stiles knows who he is. He squint/glares suspiciously at him, his nostrils flare for a second before he widens his eyes almost dramatically.

“Stiles,” he says quietly, like he can’t really believe it.

Stiles beams, “Yeah, you remember me!”

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Author: crossroadswrite

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[spicycreativity]

Intertwined - Chapter 4

Chapter: 4/8

Additional Notes: My AO3, WizardGlick, is 3 chapters ahead on this. Critical thinking exercise: Read the following Twin Peaks quote and consider how it related to Intertwined and to post-PoF as a whole:

WINDOM EARLE: What do you fear most in the world?

MAJOR BRIGGS: The possibility that love is not enough.

Chapter Content Warnings: Again, it's a hanahaki fic.

Excerpt: "Here's what I want you to do," Janus said, and his voice was surprisingly tender given the hard look on his face. "Cook for yourself. Don't make something you can take to the others later. Don't make something to share with me. I'm giving you a free pass to be selfish."

Yesterday, Patton supposed, could have gone worse. He had haunted the kitchen after his departure from Janus, begging the mindscape for some sort of hint. Like the answer to all their troubles was lurking in Thomas’ subconscious, just out of reach.

When morning came, he returned to Roman and Logan's rooms, was again rebuffed, and so floated back to the kitchen, made himself some coffee, and sat down at the counter. Again, he reached out with his mind for some kind of reassurance. He had to fix this. There had to be something he could do.

A 5,000 piece puzzle appeared in front of Patton. The image on the box was that of dogs playing poker, captioned A Friend in Need. The subconscious was funny sometimes, in a way that made Patton feel kind of sick and hollow. He opened the box and shook the puzzle pieces put onto the counter. It was a way to pass the time, at least.

A few hours crawled by. Patton’s hands began to shake from the caffeine, and he knew he should eat something, but… It almost didn’t seem worth the effort. He was happy to cook for his fam-ILY, but, when it was just him, what was the point? He put down another edge piece and flinched at the sudden appearance of Virgil in front of the coffee pot. Virgil had made himself scarce after yesterday’s meeting, only reappearing to turn down Patton’s offer of dinner. Patton couldn’t even blame him. How terrible, to wake up after a bad day and find your friends inconsolable and enemies at your door.

“Hi,” Patton said. Finding faux-happiness out of reach, he settled for ‘not completely miserable’ instead.

“Did you eat?” Virgil asked, pouring coffee into a purple mug decorated with this logo.

Patton saw no reason to lie, not about this. “Not yet. I got a little distracted.”

“Mm-hm,” said Virgil.

“Listen,” Patton said, already getting up to make toast. “Are you okay?”

Virgil shrugged and opened up another cabinet. “Want some orange juice?”

"Um, sure." Patton got out the bread and popped a few slices into the toaster. "Thank you."

"No prob." Virgil stood on his toes and got down two glasses, pivoted to the fridge for the orange juice.

"It's just," Patton said, "You don’t seem very upset?" It wasn't that Virgil was necessarily acting upbeat , but… Well, Patton had been expecting something more intense than Virgil's baseline levels of casualty.

"I am," Virgil said. "But I also want orange juice."

"Oh." Patton fell silent. His own feelings were so big and loud in his head they didn't really leave room for anything else. In the light of everything that had happened, Virgil's response felt cold. Patton had half a mind to tell him so, except that… Well, he had no room to talk about 'proper' emotional responses to things. If this was how Virgil wanted to navigate the situation, that was his right. "Did you talk to Roman yesterday?"

"Sorta." Virgil put the orange juice back, scooted a glass to Patton, and took a seat on the counter. "He said he wasn't ready to talk, but might be soon."

"To you?"

"Yeah." Virgil's expression was cloudy. "To me."

"That's a lot," Patton said, treading cautiously. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Virgil's knuckles went white around his glass, so much that Patton was worried he might break it. "Oh, there's plenty I want to say," he said darkly. "To you and to-- to him."

"Janus," Patton said, feeling it important, somehow, to say his name.

"Yeah. To Janus."

"You can," Patton said. "To me. I won't get mad."

"I just don't understand!" Virgil said, the words exploding from his chest. "What did he say to you to make you trust him? After everything he did to Roman, to you, to Thomas! What did he say?" It was almost a plea, "What did he say?"

"I already told you, kiddo," Patton said, poking at the water droplets collecting on the side of his glass, unable to remember that they were called. Logan would know. "I made a choice to trust him."

"But why ?"

"I don't know, I just-- I felt something. I don't know if I can explain it in a way you can understand. I just got it. I understood what it was all for. "

"So, what, he just gets a free pass for treating us all like crap? Just gets to talk his way out of consequences?"

"Well, no." Patton kicked the toes of his loafers against the molding under the counter. "But I don't know that it would do any good to… punish him? Be cold, be mean, yell at him. What's done is done. I'm not asking you to forgive him."

"Good, 'cause I don't."

"But I also need you to understand that I made my choice and I'm committing to it. I…" Patton smiled sadly, gazing at the countertop without really seeing it. "I gave my word, in a way."

"Fine," Virgil growled. "But if he hurts you, if he does what he did to Roman and Logan, I swear, I swear--" Patton covered his ears briefly and Virgil seemed to get the message. "Well. I'll avenge you."

"Thanks, Virgil." Patton smiled again, happier this time, and looked Virgil in the face. It really wasn't all that long ago that he had thought of Virgil as an enemy. And now look at them. "I'm proud of you, you know."

"You are?"

"Of course I am! You've been a really good friend to, to all of us. And I'm so happy--"

"Stop," Virgil said, pulling up his hood. "Stop, stop, stop."

"Aw, did I make you blush?" Patton teased.

"Yeah," Virgil said, his voice breaking on that one syllable. He cleared his throat. "Let's not-- I'm gonna--"

"Is something wrong?" Patton asked, already reaching out for a hug. Virgil couldn't see him with his face buried in his hood, so Patton stopped short and let his arms fall to his sides.

"I just, uh." Virgil took a deep breath and let it out in a huff, swept his hood back with a jerky motion. "Sometimes I don't feel like I deserve all this."

"Oh, kiddo, of course you do!" Patton said, again holding out his arms for a hug. Virgil instead held out his hand, and Patton took it in his own, determined to communicate all the love and devotion he could through that simple contact. He smiled at the matching weave of their friendship bracelets, smiled at the memory of sitting side-by-side with Virgil as they both struggled with five-strand braids.

Virgil nodded, and his breathing was still shaky and spastic when he said, "I'm gonna go-- I'm not going off to cry all by myself, if, uh, if you're worried about that. I just need… Uh. Yeah."

Patton nodded, hurriedly snatching the half-cooked toast from the toaster and imagining it smeared with Crofter’s and butter, arranged neatly on a plate. "Okay!" He said with false cheer, passing the plate to Virgil. "Come get me if you need anything! Maybe we can watch Ghost Adventures tonight."

"Sounds good," Virgil said, slightly muffled around his hand, as he was chewing at his thumbnail. "Later." He sank out.

Patton sighed and stared at their untouched orange juice glasses. Even when he was trying to fix things, he made people upset.

A drop of water slid down the side of Virgil's glass, pooled on the countertop. Patton stared at it as another followed.

What did it truly mean to deserve something, anyway? It was something Janus would probably have an opinion on. He seemed to have opinions on most things. Maybe Patton could ask him in a bit.

“Did you need me for something?

Oh, okay, or Patton could ask him now. He turned, unsmiling to Janus. It wasn’t that he wasn’t cheered by Janus’ presence, but that he had no reason to lie. Janus had made it abundantly clear that he wasn't depending on Patton for anything. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to steal you.”

“No harm, no foul,” Janus said, and sighed so heavily his breath displaced a few puzzle pieces. “As you can see, I was hard at work.” Despite this claim, he wore a hard, annoyed expression and Patton remembered with a sinking feeling in his stomach that he was dealing with a liar. "Did you need help with your puzzle?" Janus asked.

Just like that, Patton's heart leapt. "You'll stay?"

Janus shrugged. "I suppose I can clear a space in my schedule."

Patton stood to get him some coffee. The pot was empty, but it was simple enough to imagine it full again. Ordinarily, he disliked the laziness of misusing Thomas' imagination, but he couldn't deny that it was convenient sometimes. He could tell he was on the brink of annoying Janus (somehow) and didn't want to risk pushing him over the edge. "Have you eaten?"

"Have you?" Janus asked, side-eyeing the remaining slices of toast sitting in the toaster. Patton had forgotten all about them.

"I guess it slipped my mind," Patton turned around and set a coffee mug on the counter in front of Janus, then rounded it to sit down again. He tried not to notice that Janus had scooted his chair away from Patton's, that he leaned on his elbow so they were even farther apart.

"Hm," said Janus, making a face. He didn't push it, and Patton was grateful for that. "Oh, and thank you."

"Of course," Patton said.

He watched Janus for a moment. He handled the puzzle pieces with difficulty, his gloves impeding his ability to pick them up. When he realized he was staring, he turned away and started fitting more edge pieces into place.

He couldn't decide if the quiet was pleasant or awkward. It was kind of nice, kind of domestic, sitting here with Janus, but he couldn't help but feel a kind of tension in the air.

Then Janus turned away and started coughing. Patton reached out to put a hand on his back, caught himself, pulled away. The deep, jagged sound made him cringe. He was no stranger to coughing fits, none of them were, brought on by Thomas' cat allergy. But this had come out of nowhere.

"You okay?" Patton asked when Janus resurfaced. Maybe he was just projecting, but he thought Janus looked a little pale on his human side.

"It's warmer today, isn't it?" Janus said, not looking at Patton.

"Huh?"

"It's not as cold. Roman seems to have gotten ahold of himself somewhat."

"Um, yeah, I guess." Patton furrowed his brow, trying to get a good look at Janus. "But Janus, are you okay?"

"Fine," said Janus. "Just inhaled some coffee, that's all."

But his hands shook as he slid a blue puzzle piece down the counter, and Patton was already halfway out of his seat before he even realized what he was doing. "You know, I think I will make breakfast."

"A little late now," Janus said. "By the way, did you really call me all the way down here just to work on a puzzle?"

"So brunch, then," Patton said. "And to be honest, no."

"Oh, do be honest," Janus said, leaning against the counter and resting his chin in his palm.

But Patton's priorities had shifted beyond philosophical debate. He had to take care of Janus now, get him comfortable, get him honest. He had to. "It's not important anymore."

"Hm," said Janus. He cleared his throat quietly, winced. "Well, now I'm not curious at all."

"It's okay," Patton said, trying for a reassuring smile. "We can talk about it later." He spun around, trying to decide what to make. Toast sounded wholly unappealing now, and he should choose something that would be easy on Janus' throat--

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, by the way," Janus said.

"Making brunch?" Patton said with faux-innocence.

"Mm-hm. And what did you have in mind?"

"Soup."

"Patton," Janus said in a chastising tone. "I don't need you to take care of me. I need you to take care of you."

"That cough sounded like it hurt," Patton said, defeated.

Janus sat back and spread his arms out as though to show himself to Patton. "It did. It went away on its own. I'm fine."

Patton wasn't sure what to say to that. He scratched at his friendship bracelets, embarrassed. "Oh."

"Here's what I want you to do," Janus said, and his voice was surprisingly tender given the hard look on his face. "Cook for yourself. Don't make something you can take to the others later. Don't make something to share with me. I'm giving you a free pass to be selfish."

"But that's wrong!" Patton said reflexively. He regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but it wasn't like he could take them back. "Not for you," he hastened to explain. "That's your job. But me?"

"I can't very well be selfish for you," Janus said. He seemed annoyed, digging his fingers into both sides of his midriff in a way that looked decidedly painful. "Just try it. It won't be the end of the world."

And Patton wanted to. He didn't want to let Janus down, but… Where did it end? Where did it stop?

"Patton," Janus said. "I can see you catastrophizing."

"Sorry," said Patton, feeling close to tears. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just… I don't know who I am or what I want or if I'm even allowed to want."

"Breakfast, Patton. That's all. One little thing."

"Okay," Patton took a deep breath. Calm down. Make food. He could do that.

"There's nothing else," Janus said. "Just us, right now. Just this room. No consequences."

"Okay," Patton said. Cinnamon rolls. He wanted mini cinnamon rolls.

"Good," said Janus. "You're okay." He cleared his throat again, coughed a little behind closed lips. Patton forced himself not to notice, knowing that it would make Janus annoyed if he pointed it out or tried to help.

"I hope so," Patton muttered, half to himself, as he got his ingredients together. A phrase popped into his head and he shouted it out impulsively, "Mise en place!"

"Bless you?" Janus said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no." Patton smiled. "Getting all your ingredients together. Mise en place."

"Ah," said Janus. He smiled too, his human eye crinkling at the corner. Patton almost sighed at the sight. Janus seemed to hold himself above human standards sometimes. He presented himself as something cold and pure, unbreakable and untouchable and utterly perfect. There was something so beautiful about seeing him step down from the pedestal. Janus seemed to notice Patton staring and turned away, surprisingly demure. "How about some music?"

A turntable appeared on the counter, spinning something inoffensive and charmingly lo-fi. "That's nice," Patton said. He didn't recognize the artist, but it didn't really matter. The music seemed to slide into the cracks of their conversation, filling out the empty spaces and projecting calm throughout the kitchen.

So Patton made cinnamon rolls and Janus worked on the puzzle while he sipped his coffee, and they both pretended not to notice the ragged coughs that Janus couldn't bury under the music no matter how hard he tried.

[justleaf]

Alas, it’s me, smmorewtchrstuff. Tumblr just won’t let me send an ask from that account.

May I ask about 5 and 15 for the positive writer post?? <3

I ended up answering #5 here so I moved it up one and answered #4 instead! For #4, content warning for mentions of non-con, emotional abuse and taking back identity.

#15 Copy and paste a cute/fluffy moment you are particularly proud of.

I love this one so damn much. It's from It Took Years and it's a nice break after the constant struggle and heartache, even though they're too scared to tell the other that they're in love with them. To be honest I cried a little re-reading this because I felt so relieved for them LMAO. It could have had more flair, but I wanted to keep it raw and simple in the spirit of the characters.

They broke away after Iorveth batted him off, insistent on catching the sunset and he reluctantly obliged. As if there was anything more beautiful than watching his elf.

They sat in comfortable silence as the colours bloomed across the sky, and he was painfully aware of how fleeting and fragile their time was.

Three more nights when their paths would diverge yet again; a meager few hours until his one source of safety would escape his arms, and when they would once again assume the roles they had picked in the oblivion of their youth. But even if he had the chance to pick it all over again, Roche would have still walked down the torn and agonising path. The absence of sadness did not equate to happiness, he realised belatedly, but instead peace and contentment. And sitting here in the safety of each other's company, he truly felt like everything had been worth it.

"When you find Saskia, will I still be yours," Roche asked and tried to pretend that he didn't sound broken.

"Yes," Iorveth whispered with absolute certainty, "There will never come a time when I will not want you."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he reassured and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

Roch tangled his fingers in Iorveth's and leaned his head on his shoulder, mouthing the same five words silently as they watched the last of the rays die out. They would find each other again, and he was certain of it.

#4 Tell us all about the story arc you are most proud of writing.

I really, really enjoyed writing the arc for Roche in Where He Least Expected and it's basically a character development speedrun. Normally I would pace trauma recovery over a few years and scenes because that's more realistic, but I really don't have the mental capacity for a new series and wanted to tell the story still.

Am I fool for throwing in layers of character development in a PWP fic? Yes. But I do what I want YOLO you only leaf once.

So it starts with Foltest telling Roche that he's sending him as a sacrifice to the Socia'tael.

It's a classic abusive relationship right - you have the person in power who completely dominates the weaker one, and wants to dictate how he should act and even feel. And Foltest rationalises that Roche would love being used by elves because he sees him as a whoreson and because of the way he's performed for him in bed. But we know that Roche's displays of pleasure were only because it was what Foltest wanted. There's a tiny hint that it's all a facade he puts up - he switches from being Roche to being Vernon only once and only when he's in the comfort of his own room. (He'll also switch to being Vernon in chapter 2 because he's comfortable there but I haven't written that chapter yet askhsfw).

And Roche of course is conflicted when he arrives in the throne room and given a decision to participate. On one hand he could shove it up Foltest's ass by botching the mission. And on the other, he loves sex - he really does, and he really wants to participate.

And that's sort of his turning point right, where he decides that fuck it, I'm not going to make decisions to spite one man. I'm going to make decisions based on whether I want to do it or not, because it's my body and this is what I want. It's the first time he's breaking off from Foltest's orders and he doesn't think it's a big deal, but it really is.

Roche of course has fun. The elves are good lovers and he gets fucked within an inch of his life, but he still struggles with consent. He's clearly at his limit, but the desire to please is so strong and he's so used to just being taken advantage of, he just goes "oh yeah just use me if you feel like it". It takes Iorveth telling him that they're going to respect his boundaries. That's the first point of realisation for Roche. Iorveth is in his head and can feel his emotions, and he detects the sense of worthlessness that he's buried for so long. So he assures him that he'll still be wanted at the end of the day (Roche reads it as despite all his 'faults'), and it really crashes down on him how horrible his life has been for the past decade. He tries again to hide his grief because he's so used to putting up an act for those in power, but it doesn't go unnoticed. Iorveth gently calls him forward and holds him while he cries and falls asleep, way too overwhelmed by these emotions that he's never had to face before.

Chapter 2 will be more smut and more of him getting back his identity, please stay tuned heheheheh.

[love-toxin]

In your opinion, who are the top 5 in class 1A to love to cuddle their s/o whether the s/o wants it or not?

the formatting may be weird, i'm on mobile. but i like this idea. it was very interesting to think about. hopefully i can touch on some other 1-a yanderes again.

1.) Izuku Midoriya

Number one is Izuku. Delusional, touch-starved, and obsessed, there's no chance of getting away without some touching from him, whether it's wanted or not. His kisses are stifling, his hugs bone-crushing, and cuddling with him is like being smothered, and the worst part is how happy and innocent he seems while he's forcing his affection upon you. And, if you're not fond of him putting his hands all over you, then don't try and get it over with by giving him a hug back, or relaxing into his kisses--reciprocating his love will only make it that much harder for him to pull away. And honestly, he's not really trying to resist in the first place--why would he, when he's with the person he loves?

2.) Eijirou Kirishima

Kirishima would be the second. He's so painfully delusional, he'd think he'd be doing you wrong by not holding, kissing, and cuddling you ninety percent of the time. If you push him away, he'll be hurt and might stay away for a little bit. But he'll come crawling back in no time at all, pleading and bargaining with you to let him hold you, just for a little while, and whimpering about how much he loves you. If you try to push back more...well, his patience can't last forever. He could always afford to be tougher on you, anyways--besides, it's best for you to learn early on how to please the one you'll be with forever.

3.) Mina Ashido

Mina loves you the most in the whole world, so it's just natural for her to snuggle you whenever possible, and constantly have her hands on you at every opportunity. Try and wriggle away, and she'll just squeeze tighter, and tighter, and tighter still...and she won't ever let go, not even if you beg and cry so sweetly for her to loosen up. She's only showing you how much she loves you, it's your fault that she ended up breaking bones--maybe if you didn't squirm so much, you wouldn't have another 'accident'. But don't fret, she's not so cruel--she'll heal you with hugs and kisses, and maybe next time you'll be grateful enough not to push your wonderful girlfriend away.

4.) Hanta Sero

Sero is the only one who should be able to touch you, so he has to make sure you get enough affection to thrive. He isn't as obsessively touchy, but he does expect you to accept his kisses, and reciprocate if he gives you a hug or holds your hand. You're going to have to sit on his lap on occasion too, especially while he's at the computer or you're watching television together. Even if you go as far as to fight him about it, you'll be forcefully swaddled up and kept close to his chest regardless, with his tape or without. It's obvious that you don't truly understand what's best for you, so it'll just be a matter of showing you how much he cares for you...and if you have to spend the first few months being bound and taped up, with only his affections to comfort you, then that's certainly not the worst way to learn.

5.) Ochako Uraraka

Uraraka would like to give you your space, and try to let you ease into your new routines at your own pace, and to her credit she has pretty good self-control--but sometimes she just simply can't help herself, and will squeeze you in her arms until you're sure you'll suffocate. Most of the time, honestly, it can't really be all that bad. Her cuddles are gentle, and only on rare occasions will she hug you enough for it to hurt. But if you're making a scene and yelling at her to get off, or pushing her away, or trying to hurt her--well, then drastic measures need to be taken. Maybe you'll be floating in the air upside-down for hours, or she'll keep the food locked away and the water scarce for a while. She'll despise doing it to you, but it'll all be worth it in the end--when that dream of you snuggling up to her in bed, or giving her a kiss when she gets home comes true...all of this struggle will be worth it.