#what kind of courtesy is that if you don't care to follow back and keep tracking my posts ffs

[wososcripts]

Face to Face (IV)

Fridolina Rolfö x reader

Summary: An attempt to make amends.

A/N: we're nearing the end!! not sure how I feel about this part... hopefully it's okay

Word Count: 3k

Warnings ⚠️: none?

PREVIOUS PART

The next few days followed in a similar manner. Alexia brought you to the pitch even though you couldn't play, and you sat there for a few hours until they were done. Occasionally Jona would come over to see you, or Olga would stop by with food. Ana Maria even drove over from Madrid to see you and take you out for the day. But mostly you slept, listened to podcasts, and thought about what the hell you were going to do about Frido.

She still hadn't spoken to you and the team was starting to notice. It's not like the two of you were very close before (at least publicly) but now it was a conscious avoidance. The rest of the girls often kept you company when they could on breaks or in between drills.

It was only after five days, on Friday afternoon, that she approached you.

“Hi…” Frido said softly.

You looked up at her from where you sat on the pitch. You had been doing light stretches on your calves, still not allowed to do anything strenuous until next week.

“Hi, Frido.” You said plainly.

You tried not to react emotionally despite the fact that this was the first time she was speaking to you since the incident. She hadn’t even called to say she was sorry. It all seemed to confirm she really didn’t give a damn about you—didn’t have the courtesy to treat you like a stranger even.

“How are you feeling?”

Her careful, soft tone enraged you.

“Not so good, actually. My head fucking hurts, I’m sick of sitting here while the rest of you play. And I’d really rather be doing anything than talking to you.”

You felt bad the second you said it. Not because she didn’t deserve it, but because this wasn’t you. You were better than that.

“Sorry, I just really would like to be left alone, Frido. Please, just leave me be. Leave me alone.”

Frido’s eyes shot towards the ground as she blinked furiously.

“Okay.”

She turned away and walked back to the field, joining Alexia and Ingrid as they talked about something. Part of you felt bad for rejecting her so quickly, but another part of you felt enraged that she had the nerve to wait this long.

Ingrid looked over at you and then back at Frido curiously.

"What did you want to say to her?" She asked in Norwegian, knowing Frido would understand.

"I don't know… just wanted to check in on how she's doing so far."

Before Ingrid could reply again, Alexia butted in.

"You need to tell her you're sorry as soon as possible."

"I just tried—clearly she isn't too keen on having me around, is she?" Frido snapped back.

The three of them stood in shock for a second, surprised at Frido’s temper. Usually she was level headed and understanding.

Alexia sighed and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Keep trying."

With that she was off to change and shower, giving Ingrid a small smile as she left.

"Frido," Ingrid rubbed her arm to catch her attention. "Why don't we go get a drink tonight and catch up? It's been a long time since we went out, just us."

Frido contemplated it momentarily, not stupid enough to miss that Ingrid clearly wanted to talk about her mood. If she accepted, she was also accepting the fact that she had to open up to her best friend sooner or later.

"All right."

-

"I don't know what to do," Frido complained, tossing back the last dregs of her beer.

Ingrid sat across from her, her own beer nearly untouched. They were sat out on the balcony of some restaurant nursing the end of the night. They hadn't met, just the two of them, in a while, Frido realized. She wished it was under better circumstances.

"Can I be honest?" Ingrid asked.

Frido nodded. She expected no less from the Norwegian—though she was incredibly kind, it wasn't common for them to sugar coat things.

"You've got to go up to her and apologize. Sincerely. One on one. And you can't be sure she's going to forgive you."

Frido knew Ingrid was talking about apologizing for more than the tackle. She wasn't privy to exactly what happened between the two of you—even in your anger you hadn't told your teammates what was going on—but it was clear something unhealthy had been a staple between the two of you.

"Mapí showed me the video. I didn't want to see it at first, you know how I am with that stuff, so worried always that it'll be one of us. But I finally saw it." Ingrid met her eyes. "The way she went down, the way you hit her, she could've been hurt much worse than she is. And you just got up and left, didn't even check on her."

There was a hint of disdain in Ingrid’s voice that inspired nausea in Frido.

"Had that been any player in a match against Barcelona, imagine how any one of us would've reacted."

Frido knew, if she had seen someone do to you what she had done herself, it would've boiled her blood. To see you lying there unmoving, would've had any player on that field aching, because you were wonderful. You didn't cause fights, you forgave people, you smiled at the opposition after each game, you spent as much time as possible with the fans. And Frido had somehow broken that, gotten you to yell and scream and cry.

"We were together." She whispered, not meeting Ingrid’s eyes. "Well, not really. We were sleeping together, I was at her place most days a week."

The waitress came by, and Frido ordered a glass of wine. She needed a bit more courage to fully get this out in the open.

"I didn't want commitment. I'm not… I didn't know how to be open about that with anyone. I was ashamed of it—she knew. She could sense it." Frido gripped the stem of her wine glass and took a sip. "She hated breaks because she knew I wouldn't talk to her until I was back in Barcelona. Right before I went back to Sweden for camp… we had a huge fight. She said she couldn't take it anymore, that I made her feel like a whore, that I tossed her aside whenever I didn't want her. And I said I didn't care."

Ingrid was silent.

"I didn't expect her to kick me out. Or to refuse to speak to me. I thought we'd fall back together, we always did. But it was different this time. And I hated it. I hated it so much it made my head spin."

Ingrid put a hand over Frido’s where it rested on the table.

"Frido, I love you. You're my best friend, okay?"

Frido nodded, wiping at a tear that was beginning to fall.

"You've got to make this right. Good people do shitty things. Really shitty things sometimes. But sometimes they're also forgiven, in time. And if you want anything with her, even friendship, you've got to apologize and explain yourself."

Frido nodded, meeting Ingrid’s eyes finally.

-

That night Frido found it difficult to get to sleep.

There wasn't any good reason for it: she had worked hard in practice all day and her body was exhausted. Her bed was comfortable, her apartment quiet. But it was empty. She had realized that she hadn't spent a week straight sleeping in her apartment for months. At least once a week she was with you, always.

But now you weren't speaking to her. You looked at her during practice, then avoided her at all costs. She hadn't even tried texting you, worried she would find her number blocked.

She contemplated calling someone to keep her company, though who would be up at one in the morning?

Eventually she fell asleep after tossing and turning for what felt like hours. She slipped away into unconsciousness, allowing her body to relax into the mattress.

Her mind, however, had different plans.

In her dreams she was in the hospital, unable to get to you. She stood at the door to your room, peering in through a small glass window. The rest of the girls were inside, holding your hand and stroking your skin as you laid in the hospital bed. Your eyes were open but you hardly moved. All she knew with certainty was that you did not want to see her. You wanted her gone. You've ruined my life, she heard you say, though your lips didn't move.

Another time you had simply disappeared. Her fault. You had moved far away, far from Barcelona, and far from her. You were happier somewhere else, with different people.

Once more you hated her. Refused to speak.

When she woke it was to a dark room and a sick feeling in her stomach. She was lonely. She wanted you next to her in bed. She wanted to see you smile and hear you laugh. She wanted to see you play great football and jump into her arms after a goal. And it terrified her to think she wouldn't get any of that again.

How was it that she could've treated you so horribly? It confused her, as if it had been someone else. How had she let her fear control her like that? And most importantly, how had she put your feelings aside so callously?

If she was going to fix anything she would need to apologize. Apologize for it all. Ingrid was right. She hadn't been there for your recovery and now it was all she wanted. The guilt of it all threatened to choke her. She thought of how scared you must've been lying on the field in pain.

Though it was only 4:30 in the morning Frido got out of bed and went to the bathroom to start a scalding hot shower. She needed a plan for how to fix things between you two.

-

It began that morning. Alexia brought you to practice. You were still living with her for the time being, until you were one hundred percent cleared. You didn't mind it, in fact it was nice to get so much time with Alexia when she was normally busy.

You walked into the locker room, so pleased to be getting into your kit for the first time in a week and a half. Even if it was just for physio work, at least you were in the uniform once more.

Unexpectedly, sitting in your locker was a small stuffed cow with a card and one of your favorite protein bars propped against it. You picked up the plushie, pressing it to your face and enjoying the softness. You were a bit of a child when it came to stuffed animals: you loved them.

The card was written in very familiar handwriting, and your heart jumped into your throat.

This made me think of you. I'd really like to apologize after practice today. Perhaps we can grab a coffee?

Fridolina

The message was a bit stilted, but you could practically hear Frido’s hesitation on the page. She was nervous.

Just then the blonde came into the locker room to grab something from her bag. She glanced at you quickly, not sure as to your reaction.

"Frido," you called softly. You hadn't decided until that moment to try and forgive her, "I'll see you after practice."

Frido seemed shocked, but quickly her mouth transformed into a wide smile.

Practice seemed to fly by now that you were allowed to do something. The physio workers had you weight training and doing yoga to try and work your muscles that were tight from the pain you had been in. You felt like you were making progress, finally, after more than a week of sitting around.

-

The car ride with Frido was quiet. You sat in the front seat, fiddling with your fingers and checking your phone as she drove. She had music playing softly, some indie band you didn't know. It was bordering on awkward, though not quite there. You simply didn't know what to say.

Once Frido was pulling off the street to parallel park you spoke.

"I don't think I've been here before."

"I just found it a little while ago when I was wandering around desperately in need of some coffee."

The shop was cute. The outside was painted in chipping yellow paint and the shutters were open. There were a few tables outside, an eclectic set of guests seated at them. There was an old man reading the paper, a student on her laptop, and a mother with her baby. The smell of baked goods wafted from the entrance.

"The muffins are fantastic, if you want one." Frido offered cautiously.

You nodded and gestured for her to enter first.

You decided on a chai and a cinnamon muffin which did look incredible, you had to admit. When you were about to pull out your card to pay you felt a hand on your arm.

"I'll pay, please."

You allowed it, understanding that this was all part of Frido trying to ask for forgiveness. You were willing to see this to the end. It shamed you to admit but you had missed her deeply. It felt good to be near her, to smell her perfume and anticipate her ticks that you knew so well. What made you stay was the possibility that she had missed you too.

Frido carried your drinks and food to the table you picked. It was still warm enough to sit outside even with the sun setting. You tapped your foot and ate your muffin slowly, waiting on her to say something. You didn't want to speak first, but it seemed as though you might have to.

"So…" you started, trailing off to try and prompt Frido.

"I wanted to apologize. Really apologize."

You sat quietly.

"Just for the concussion you gave me?"

Frido hesitated.

"I'm still figuring things out—it's all jumbled up in my head. I was talking to Ingrid the other day and she made me realize I had to set things straight."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"I'm not explaining this well—I wanted to apologize for hurting you. And I want us to be on better terms. I wish we could start over."

"That's it?"

Your chest squeezed painfully. You thought this was the chance you had to deal with the horrible ending to your relationship, but Frido seemed to have no interest in unpacking it. You couldn't help the way your anger flared in response to the hurt you felt.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm not exactly okay, Frido." You started to stand up. "I think it's better if I left. There's no hard feelings over the concussion, I knew it was an accident. Let's just forget about all of it."

Frido stood up quickly, reaching out to grab your elbow.

"Can I drive you back?"

You shook your head.

"I'd really rather walk. It isn't far to Alexia's."

Frido looked for a second like she would push further, but then she deflated and nodded.

"See you at practice, Frido. Thank you for the coffee."

-

You couldn't help the tears that fell down your face as you walked down the streets of Barcelona. Deciding to forget the whole thing was worse than being angry about it—at least then you got some acknowledgment. Now you felt as though Frido was telling you she just wanted to smooth things over and make nice. She wanted it to be as if this thing between you never existed—all the pain and attraction gone in one fell swoop. You wanted to scream.

How were you meant to play with someone who you had so much conflict with? Surely Alexia or Jona would begin to notice sooner or later. You knew it would affect the team chemistry. The thought just made you more upset.

The tears in your eyes began to fall faster. Not only was your relationship (whatever messy bleeding thing it had been) ruined, but there was a potential for it to impact your job, your team too. What would you do then? If it came down to you or Frido you couldn't imagine Barça picking you.

Alexia noticed you were crying the second she saw you, even though you tried to hide it.

"What's wrong?" She fretted, pulling you close to her. "What happened? I thought you were with Frido this afternoon? Why did she not drop you off?"

You just shook your head, burying it in your captain's sweater. She wrapped her arms around you, quietly shushing you.

"Come, let's sit down."

You felt like a child being led to the couch and leaning in Alexia's embrace. Deep breaths eventually calmed you down so you could speak.

"I'm sorry Ale, I shouldn't be coming here like this."

Alexia shook her head.

"Nonsense. Tell me what happened. Was it Fridolina?"

"It's my own fault, I let it get like this."

"Let what get like this? The accident?"

You shook your head.

"Not the accident. Frido and I have a…we have our difficulties."

Alexia looked at you, surprised.

"Really?"

"I don't think I can tell you…you're her captain I don't want to let it affect the team."

Alexia took your hand.

"I can separate work and personal life. I'm your friend too, and it seems like you need one."

"We were seeing each other, kind of. In secret." You sighed. "We weren't exclusive, she just wanted some fun I think. I didn't."

You felt defeated. There wasn't much more to do. You just had to accept your fate.

Alexia looked at you for a moment in disbelief. She had had no idea.

"You and Frido?"

"It was a mistake."

[sadsackpostteen]

I hate myself for playing along with the tagging game whenever I was tagged

[blondedmuse]

SUMMER DAYS

synopsis. ꩜ what it’s like to spend your summer days at Saltburn.

author’s note. ∿ this was supposed to be a drabble/headcannon but i can’t write anything short it seems; allusions to smut, fluff.

at breakfast

you sat next in between Venetia and Farleigh, across from your lover, Felix. Sir James would ask you if you slept well and had a good night, a kind and common courtesy for any guest he’s hosting at his home. Everyone turned to you as you nodded, recalling the night before. It was spent in Felix’s room, his hand over your mouth as you moaned, careful not to wake anyone up.

“Yes, I slept well,” You answered. Everyone probably noted that your hair indicated other wise, just slightly messier and unkempt than it’s usually been in the morning. But you wondered if everyone could see the cheeky smile on the boy across from you at the table.

in the pool

You swam after breakfast with Venetia while the boys sat in the lounge chairs. You’d asked Felix to swim with you but he insisted he'd finish the book he was reading. While Farleigh got into the pool after a few splashes from Venetia, it seemed as though Felix needed more convincing.

"Don't you wanna get in the pool?" You asked Felix, crawling up his body on the chair. "The water's nice, it'll cool you down-" he started tickling you before you could finish your argument, trying to get your wet body away from his.

"Christ, you're cold!" He laughed as you attempted to fight back, pushing away his arms with yours.

"Fine, you want me to go in?" He caved, picking your body up from on top of him and walking over to the ledge of the pool. "You first."

You screamed as Felix threw you from his arms into the hair, hitting the water with a splash. Felix followed suit, diving in right after.

"Is this what you wanted, darling?" He said swimming over to you and you wrapped your legs around his frame underwater, bringing him closer to you.

"Exactly." You answered, locking your lips with him only for your kiss to be interrupted by Farleigh's fake gags.

"Get a room!"

on the court

you were invited for a match of tennis. You changed from your bathing suit attire into a silk dress, a pair of sunglasses and heels, which is not necessarily ideal for the sport but you wanted to follow formalities. You and Felix were paired together for the doubles game against Farleigh and Venetia.

It was nonchalant the way you all played, slightly lethargic from the champagne you’d been drinking. Still, Felix managed to keep the score and in the final game of the second set you scored the winning point for your team. And to celebrate Felix lifted you off the ground, throwing you over his shoulder.

“Fantastic job, love!” He laughed, spinning you around.

“Felix, put me down!” You exclaimed, slapping his back playfully in between giggles.

“Did you guys see that?” He taunted the other team. “We have a new Wimbledon star over here,” He beamed jokingly and Farleigh was quick to flash him the finger, watching Felix pop another bottle of Champagne.

in the field

You laid bare on your stomach, a cigarette hanging out the side of your mouth as you read one of the few books you packed with you.

"There you are," Felix said, stripping off his suit from earlier's tennis match. "You like what you see?" He asked as he watched you stare intently and he shot you a coy wink.

"You know it, baby," You replied, lifting the sunglasses to rest on your head so you could see Felix in all his glory.

"They say it's rude to stare," he declared, walking over to you and sitting down on the ground next to you.

"Then I guess I'm the meanest bitch alive," You smiled and he plucked the cigarette from your mouth. You gasped, (jokingly) jaw dropped.

"They also say it's rude to take things that aren't yours."

He raised his eyebrow playfully as he took a drag, teasing you. You rolled your eyes and he laid down next to you.

"They also say sharing is caring," He exhaled.

You scoffed with a chuckle. "Shut up. Who is 'they’ anyway?" You questioned and he shrugged, offering you your own smoke back. Nonetheless you accepted it as he kept it steady while you took a drag. Your head rested on his shoulder as you puffed out the grey odor, and he watched in admiration. He observed how the sunlight pooled in your eyes and the way your lips curved as you breathed out the stench in clouds. Sure, Saltburn was his house, but the weight of your head on his shoulder made you feel like home, and he appreciated every moment of it.

at dinner

you felt intimated by the sophisticated customs at Saltburn and dinner was no different. You sat at the large dining table next to Felix, his hand on your thigh.

"You look beautiful, my love," He told you as he passed you a bottle of wine, which you gladly accepted. You were dressed in an evening gown to match the black tie attire everyone else had shown up in, yet you still felt out of place like a sore thumb. You poured a glass of wine, hoping it would ease your anxiety.

"Not too much, darling," Felix warned, giving a slight squeeze to your leg. He could sense your nervousness, having been watching you toy with your jewelry for the past five minutes. But, he didn't want you falling over yourself by the end of the night either. You looked around and everybody seemed to be occupied with conversation of the company around them so it seemed like you were in clear to have a side conversation with your lover.

"I know, I just feel like I don't belong here."

Felix grabbed the hand that was fidgeting with your necklace and brought it to his mouth, his lips leaving a delicate kiss on your skin.

"You of all people deserve to be here. There's nothing to worry about." You didn't say anything, only huffed as you bit your lip. "And if you don't believe me and you still feel nervous, just squeeze my hand alright?"

You nodded, accepting his offer and holding his hand in yours as the woman next to him dragged him into another conversation. Still, when you squeezed his hand, it was always reciprocated, Felix unable to ignore you.

at the lake

you and Felix giggled, arms linked together as you headed towards the body of water. You excused yourselves from dinner early—dragging on with meaningless conversation you began to zone out from, and Felix was just as bored as you. Dinner wasn't usually like this but the additive guests, the Henry's, seemed to dull the excitement with their own stories solely for the purpose of one-upping the Cattons it seemed. So, Felix came up with an excuse for the both of you, something along the lines of 'you weren't feeling well' and he 'needed to take care of you' which wasn't entirely untrue. Boredom is an uncomfortable feeling which Felix needed to take care of by something more fun.

"Thank you for that but why did you have to make me the damsel in distress? They're going to think I'm a snob," You whined.

"They would never. But me on the other hand? Yeah I think you're a snob. Making me carry your heels is outrageous," He teased with your shoes in his hand and you shook your head unable to hide your soft giggles.

"But they do love you y'know."

"Whatever," You mumbled and you felt your feet lift off the ground as Felix threw you over his shoulder. You watched him put your heels down and the ground started to move below you.

"Felix! Put me down! Where are you-" You saw the edge of the lake and it clicked. "You are not throwing me in without a bathing suit! Felix, please!" You screamed, resorting to slapping his back.

"Quiet, love, you're gonna get us in trouble."

"I don't have another dress, put me down!" You demanded.

"You can borrow one, its fine." With that he threw you into the lake, your body sinking into the cold water.

"Felix!" You cried as you resurfaced, watching him stand at the lake's edge completely dressed and completely dry. "It's cold!" What am I supposed to wear after this?"

"You can take my jacket," He reassured you after he stripped himself of his suit, jumping into the lake after you, only clad in boxers.

He swam towards you. "You poor baby."

"It's cold."

"How 'bout I warm you up then?" His hands were at your sides, pulling up your dress under water, his mouth hot against your neck as he began to mark his territory. You knew now that the night would end with you in his bed like it had for the past week, and you would be asked about it all over again at breakfast—but there's no other way you'd want to spend your nights and summer days.

[covetyou]

the dark caress of someone else

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Tess Servopoulos rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con, threesome (mff), oral (f and m receiving), bi reader, unprotected P in V, creampie, praise kink, spit kink, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap, one singular queef (I'm not sorry), one face slap (with a dick)word count: 6.2k chapter summary: After a little white lie, you go to pick up your dads medication, only to be met by an angry Joel and a (not so) surprise visitor.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love for this silly little series. I appreciate your amazing comments so much, and I don't quite know what to do with myself.

Piggy in the middle is fuckin difficult man. But I guess life imitates art and sometimes there do just be too many holes, hands and other body parts to keep track of. Also pls excuse me but I'm, like, really bi. And Anna Torv's Tess has my whole entire pussy heart.

this part is dedicated to 'The Sweaty Javi' and 'The Hillbilly Duck Hunter' (courtesy of the wonderful @morallyinept). thank you for your services. (pls drink responsibly)

also a shout out to slasher!joel's big ol' balls (spawned by @toxicanonymity) they've been on my mind literally all week and you would not believe the ball content I had to cut from this. only a smidgen of balls remain, but the balls are there in spirit. thanks for the ballspo bb.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

song: someone new by Hozier dividers: @saradika

Your dad shook as he threw back his last pill, swallowing dry before chasing it down with a sip of water. He'd been making weak comments about needing to get more all week and you'd always stopped him. You didn't want him to go. You wanted to go.

You both knew that the pushback was all for show, but now a little white lie meant the show was over, for him at least.

"Joel doesn't want you coming to get your pills yourself anymore," you'd told him. It was a barefaced lie, but felt better than telling him the truth. How, exactly, do you tell your dad you're whoring yourself to his drug dealer?

You were fairly certain your dad knew what kind of man Joel Miller was. A Nice Man to some, maybe, but his reputation preceded him. He was known for helping out people when they got into tricky spots. Not all the time, of course, but when you had something he took a fancying to, he'd be more than willing to come to an agreement. Maybe your dad already knew what you were doing for him, for you. Maybe he noticed you had more ration cards these days, a spring in your step. You wondered if he cared, if he'd ever try to stop you.

You make your way to the nicer part of the QZ again the next day. You have a free shift and, despite your dad's protests that you should go spend it with friends, you find yourself climbing chipped steps to an empty hallway once more.

You had left the last time with the slick of oil between your cheeks, down your legs, between your thighs. It had taken days to wash off completely. You didn't mind one bit - whenever you moved the slick of it reminding you of him buried in you to the hilt, fucking you half to death in a way you'd never imagined. Embarrassment, shame, you shouldn't like this, melding together and melting away as he pummelled into you from behind. You'd practically rubbed yourself raw thinking about it, but it was never quite enough.

Uncontrollable excitement thrums through you as you approach his door. And, well, you should have known.

Each time you turn up to Joel Miller's door thinking you know what to expect, and each time you're wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. It seems this time is no different.

You hear it before you even get to the door. Raised voices - a man shouting, a girl crying. You hear muffled snippets of the argument - "fuckin' daddy" here, "you're an asshole" there. You don't want to leave, but the sound of it makes you nervous. The unexpected usually hit when you were already trapped inside Joel's apartment, not when you were waiting in the corridor for the door to open.

You decide to turn and leave, you can come back later or another day, your dad can wait. You can wait. But then the door is opening and a topless brunette is rushing out into the hallway, nearly knocking into you in the process. Tears are streaming down her face as she shoves her arms into her t-shirt, hurrying away muttering "asshole" under her breath.

You watch as she leaves, turning your head back to the open door only when you see movement out the corner of your eye.

You'd never seen him like this. White fury burned behind his eyes as he came to slam the door in the girl's wake. He sees you and halts, fingers gripping the wood so tight you think it might splinter.

"Where's your daddy," he snarls at you.

"At home, in bed. He needs-"

"I know what he fuckin' needs. Get in."

He stalks away from the door, leaving it wide open for you to enter. You follow him in. You'd been trapped in here with him before, but it never felt like this. The fear you had before was because of the unknown, the new - he was a strange man in a strange place. Now he was a man you somewhat knew and trusted, yet in this moment you feared him. You were suddenly keenly aware that he could hurt you, really actually hurt you, if he wanted to.

A cupboard door clanks shut, making you jump, then his imposing figure is stomping back over to you. Grabbing your hand, he wretches it open, pushes a pill packet into your palm, and closes it into a fist around the plastic.

"You can see yourself out," he growls before walking away from you, leaving you standing there, confused.

You frown as you look between the pills he'd just given you and him. "But -"

"But fuckin' what," he yells, turning on you. "I gave you what you want, now go."

You're a fucking idiot, poking the already angry bear, but you step forward anyway. "That's not what I want."

He scoffs at you, hands on hips, shaking his head in disbelief. You felt small just because of the size of him usually, but now he was making you feel small in other ways.

"Use me."

"Use you? You want me to use you?"

You shrug your shoulders. "That's what this is, right? You give me what I want, and I give you what you want." He'd said it himself last time, and now here you were using his own words against him.

"And you think using you is what I want?"

You look him straight in the eye, balls bigger than the universe and say, "Yes."

Angry feet drag him to you, toes stopping barely an inch away from your own. He stares down at you, challenging you to look away, but you crane your neck and keep your eyes locked with his.

When he brings one massive hand gently to your neck, holding your gaze, you try not to flinch. Joel notices, fiery gaze briefly softening, he doesn't want you to be scared of him, and allows the cradle of his hand to push against your throat. You feel your pulse thunder beneath his palm just before the pressure releases.

"You got one last hole I ain't tried yet," he murmurs, dragging the rough pad of his thumb up your jaw and across the swell of your bottom lip. You fight not to kiss it, to take it into your mouth and show him how useful you can be.

The hand drags down your body, fingertips pulling at the neckline of your shirt, before he reaches its hem. You think he's going to put a hand up it, feel your bare skin underneath. Instead he bunches the fabric taught against your chest in one fist, yanking you even closer to him, his fist keeping you from falling flush against his torso.

"Take this off," his breath whispers across your face.

Grip loosening on your shirt, you try not to stumble back as you pull your shirt over your head, cheeks heating when you briefly get it caught on your chin. You weren't wearing a bra today, but if he notices he doesn't react.

Fingers tug at your belt loops. "And these."

You unbutton your pants, pulling them down your legs and off your body, taking your shoes with them. You try not to think about if the other girl was this dressed when Joel decided to kick her out.

Joel kicks your clothes away from you, you watch them skid across the floor, pill packet clattering along with them, before turning back, the fire in his eyes back and all softness forgotten.

"On your fuckin' knees."

You thud to your knees and look up at him. He takes a step back, as if he suddenly doesn't trust himself to be close to you. The thought of him actually hurting you crosses your mind again - you wonder if that'd turn you on the same as the other things he does, the things he does to hurt but make you feel good too. Maybe it would. Maybe if he really wanted to you'd let him.

His eyes rake down your body, taking in your bare tits, nipples hardened under the chill of the room, down the swell of your stomach, across the meat of your thighs and to the dampness forming on the front of your panties.

"Want me to use you, huh?" he says, nostrils flaring as his hands flex beside him.

Your eyes flick to his crotch. You'd only been this close to him in your fantasies, but you find you're salivating just as much as you do in your dreams, aching to run your hands across him and really, finally, feel him.

As if reading your mind, his hand caresses across the front of his pants. Where there had been nothing but the soft shape of him before was a growing tent as he hardened before you. "You want this?"

You nod.

He threads a hand through your hair, scratching at your scalp and cradling your head in his palm. He forces your head back further, until you're looking directly up at him.

"You're gonna have to ask nicely for it, sweetheart."

"Please can I have it," you beg, sounding as needy as you feel. You've never needed anything more than you need this. You know he can see it in your face, in the way you lick your lips as you take him in.

He yanks his pants down in an instant, cock bouncing from their confines. He grabs it in his fist, large hand stroking gently up his length to tug at his tip as he grows. It looks huge in his hand, but you know it'd look so much bigger in yours.

You look up at him wide eyed as you watch him stroke himself. A few strokes and he's solid already. For all you've done with him, for how you've had him inside you, you've never seen it this close. Never seen how veins ripple under skin, foreskin moves back with the movement of his hand to reveal his flushed tip, slit beckoning you to taste.

"Please can I have your co- "

The hard length of him collides harshly with the side of your face. Your lips part in a gasp. You stop yourself from chasing it and engulfing it with your mouth. He hasn't said you could, and you're not stepping a toe out of line. He needs you to be good.

"You really want it?" he teases.

You nod frantically. You must look dumb, like one of those nodding dog ornaments from years ago - glassy eyed and head bobbing at just about anything.

"Kiss it." You do, hesitantly placing a gentle kiss to one side of his tip, then the other, before placing an even softer kiss to his slit. There's a thrill knowing you'd never kissed any part of him before, knowing that the first time you'd pressed your lips to him it was to his cock. If anyone ever found out maybe you'd be embarrassed, but here, in this room, all you wanted was more.

Swallowing heavily and lifting his shaft, he pulls your head closer to him. "Kiss 'em. They wanna feel good too, sweetheart."

You place more soft kisses across the delicate skin of his balls, pushing down the temptation to taste him. Your eyes never leave his face, and his never leave yours. He looks so horny he could smash you through a fucking wall, and you don't think you'd mind if he did.

You keep kissing until he pulls your head back. He's started gently stroking himself again, getting himself off as he watched you worship his balls.

"You wanna taste?"

"I wanna taste," you swallow, sinking down as you spread your knees wide to stop the temptation of rubbing your thighs together, desperate for relief he hasn't said you can have.

"Show me how much you want it."

You snap your jaw open for him, eager to taste more than the swipe of cum he'd spread over your lips weeks ago, as he fists his cock gently over your face. He's teasing you with it still when a whine catches in your throat.

Another tug to your hair tilts your head back, but your eyes strain down to look at the bead of cum that's about to drip from the tip of him. He leans over you, cock in hand and your head held in the other. You watch as he spits down into your mouth, saliva cooling as it falls from his mouth to yours, landing cold on your waiting tongue.

"Good girl. So desperate for it. Keep it open." He moves his dripping tip to your mouth before you can react, swiping it across your tongue, mixing his precum with your, and his, saliva.

You hear it before he does - the sound of a key jingling and a lock turning. It startles you, fright springing across your face as he frowns down at you. You keep your mouth open as the door swings open behind you, exposing your naked body to the hallway and whoever has just entered.

"You home, old man?" a familiar voice you can't place calls out, before the very same voice lets out a low whistle when it catches sight of you.

The door is kicked shut, and there's a thud on the table. Joel is still brandishing his cock as he stares daggers over your head at the intruder. Your fucking mouth is open.

"You mind? I'm busy," he says, wiping the tip of his cock over your tongue again. You salivate at the salty taste of him and try to swallow.

Light footsteps head toward where you kneel on the floor before Joel, knees spread, head up, eyes darting between his face and his grip on his cock.

"Well then, hello there pretty girl." You remember that voice.

Finally letting your eyes flick to the side, you see her. Tess. She seems to recognize you at the same time as you do, a smile pulling across her face as your mouth falls slack in shock.

She'd been your fathers dealer before you were handed off one day to a new one. Your dad hadn't given details on why, but you had a feeling you knew. She'd helped you once too, when a few too many sick days had meant too few cards to get by. That had been your first time on your knees for someone at the promise of pills, and at the time you thought it would be your last.

Joel watches as she approaches and looks down at you on your knees. His hand hasn't left his cock, and he's tugging on himself as he watches, another bead of precum you desperately want to lick collecting at his head. He moves his hand from its place in your hair and starts stroking his heavy balls with it as he watches you.

"How's your daddy?" she pouts in mock empathy before addressing Joel, laughing.

"Gotta say, didn't expect this when I handed 'em off to you. Told you the daughter's mouth was good, didn't I?"

"I wouldn't know, I was only just about to find out," he grits out. His hands are still slowly working over himself as he talks to her. You watch as his eyes roam up and down her body, then flick to you down at his feet. Your body heats as you watch him ogle her - you think it may be jealousy until your own eyes trail the same path down her body before resting back on Joel. What difference is there between jealousy and desire, really.

"The first time you get to mess with one, and I get to witness it? Lucky me," she grins as she watches Joel thread a hand back through your hair, drawing your attention back to him completely.

"S'not the first time," he whispers as he pulls you forward, nodding at you to open your mouth once more.

"Then what the fuck have you been doing with her?"

Joel rolls his eyes at her, instead opting to feed the head of his cock into your mouth.

Your mouth engulfs his tip, warm and wet, he sucks in a breath closing his eyes, grip tightening in your hair. You let your tongue swirl around him, feeling the ridge of his head and tasting the bitter sweet salt of his cum on his skin. Your fingers curl into the rough fabric of his pants, anchoring you to him as you bob your head over his tip, circling your tongue over every inch of it.

"Oh fuck, that's right," he moans. "That taste good?"

He looks down as you nod, your moan of confirmation around his cock pulling another groan from his chest as his eyes fall closed again.

"Fuck yeah, it does."

Tess had all but gone from your mind until you hear the tap of shoes on the floor, and feel as she crouches beside you. A soft hand comes to your face, stroking the hollow of your cheek as you suck more of Joel's cock into your mouth.

You feel soft lips press a kiss to that very same hollow, the feeling of being kissed making you sigh. His eyes snap open, he'd been so lost in the feeling of your mouth on him that he hadn't noticed Tess's approach either. Now he was looking down at two women at his feet, eyes burning holes into yours where they fluttered in your head.

She begins nuzzling your hair, your neck, placing soft kisses across your bare skin. You keep your focus on Joel, staring at him with the same intensity he stares at you. Soft hands start to roam up and down your body, squeezing your chest, pinching your nipples, dragging short nails across your stomach, her every move making you shudder.

"Can't say I ever imagined a sweet little thing like you doing this," she whispers into your ear. You can hear the sickly sweet smile in her voice.

You moan into Joel's cock as she touches you, taking yet more of him into your mouth. You want to touch it, hold the heft of it in your hand, but you never have before. You don't know if you're allowed. You inch your hand up his pants to his crotch, stroking the exposed skin at the base of him with your fingertips. The hand in your hair twitches, and you hear a strangled moan from above you.

"Fuuck."

Another shift of your hand and your hand wraps around his thick base, fingertips unable to meet even if you squeezed. Holding him steady, you can finally angle him down so you can draw more of his cock into your mouth. You flick your tongue along his tip again as you swallow around him with a moan.

"That's it. Show me how much you can take."

At the instruction, Tess knocks his hand away from your hair, bringing both of her own to hold either side of your head. She fucks your mouth up and down his length, Joel moaning deep as his hand finds yours on his pants and grips your fingers tightly.

You'd been longing to feel his lips on yours so much that you'd never considered what his hand might feel like on yours. It's the opposite of electric - the heavy heat of his rough hand grounding you, finally, as you take him in in full clarity.

"Shit that's good," he sighs as you're dragged along him by Tess's hands.

"You hear that? He thinks you're doing a good job," Tess says from beside you, pushing your head down to take more of him with a kiss to your cheek.

You start to gag as she pushes you down - it had been so long since you'd done this, and Joel's size wasn't exactly forgiving to the less experienced - but you carry on, moaning again when the welcome distraction of Tess's body pushes against yours.

"Nothin' but a cocksucking slut, huh?" Joel murmurs down to you almost affectionately, moving a stray hair from across your face. Yes you want to say, but it comes out a garbled mess as Tess laughs at you once again.

With another firm push of your head, your mouth slips down and takes Joel even further to the back of your throat. You cough and splutter, trying to push yourself back using your hand against Joel's thick thighs, but Tess holds you down with his cock buried in your throat. Joel's hand grips yours tighter still.

"Don't," he snarls. "If I wanted her chokin' on it I'd fuck her face."

"Maybe I want her to choke on it," Tess counters from beside you with another laugh, but she relents anyway.

You pull back with a gasp and take a gulp of air before kissing the tip of his cock. You don't want to let go of it for a minute. You lick long stripes up his length, collecting the strings of saliva you'd left behind, before encasing him in your mouth once more. If you were anywhere else you'd maybe feel shame at your need for him, and your need to please him, but the heat of their eyes burning into you does nothing but light a fire between your legs.

Tess sees it, moving a hand down from bobbing your head on Joel's cock, down your bare torso and cupping your clothed pussy. Her slender fingers feel so much more delicate compared to Joel's thick calloused ones as they rub over you, your moans muffled by the fullness of the cock in your mouth.

"She's so wet, Joel," you hear her say through Joel's groan and the blood rushing in your ears.

Your hips start to rock into Tess's hand of their own accord, aching to find more friction and finally get some relief. She yanks your panties to the side, using one of her fingers to trace the seam of you before gently tickling your clit. If she could only feel how damp you were before, she could definitely feel the drip of slick from your cunt now.

Slender fingers plunge into you, fucking your desperate hole with force as you work your mouth over Joel's cock. You're left empty for half a second before her fingers are back in you, more this time, stretching you further so suddenly that your legs widen to accommodate the pull of fingers inside you.

"All four fingers, good girl," Tess coos.

"Four?" grunts Joel. Tess nods, laughing, and Joel throws his head back with a groan.

"I bet we could fit a whole hand up here," she says with another kiss to your cheek.

You were naive before to think she wouldn't, couldn't, hurt you the way you thought Joel could. You were wrong, you realized now, as her fingers plunged into you, stretching wide, words taunting in your ear as she forced your head back and forth over Joel's cock.

Her fingers leave your cunt entirely, leaving you empty and gaping. She pulls you off of Joel, replacing his cock in your mouth with her glistening fingers. You clean your own slick from them, moaning at the tang of your own pussy mixing with the flavor of Joel still on your tongue. His eyes never leave you and his hand never gives up its grip on yours.

"You like the taste of pussy, don't you?" Tess whispers in your ear, pushing you back onto Joel.

"Mhm."

"I think we can do something about that," she murmurs. "Can't we Joel." You both look up at him from your knees. He growls, nodding stiffly.

You're being hauled to your feet and pushed to the couch before you know what's going on. The blood rushes to your head and the room spins when you're pushed roughly over the arm, watching as Tess unbuttons her pants and pulls them down her legs.

She lounges back on the other arm of the sofa, spreading her legs and beckoning you to come between them. You ignore the ache in your knees from the hard wood of the floorboards as you crawl over, settling between her soft thighs and looking up at her with parted mouth. You would do anything right now, desperate for any relief from anyone.

Joel has followed behind, watching your ass sway as you crawled to her. Your panties are still skewed to the side, and you know he's looking at the mess of arousal between your legs. Tess may have been the one with her fingers buried in you, but you hope he knows he's just as responsible for your glistening cunt.

"C'mon," he growls, landing a swat to your ass. "Lemme see you eat that pussy."

You stare at Tess's bare cunt, feeling needy in ways you can't even explain, and move to lower your head, eager to taste her again.

She grabs you by the hair before your mouth can touch her.

"No teasing now. You remember what I told you?" You nod. You remembered every fucking part - exactly how she liked to come undone. Sometimes you imagined her doing the same to you.

She pulls your face down toward her cunt, and you stick out your tongue, hungry to taste her. You lick her gently at first, small licks across the swelling of her clit and her flushed lips. You lick further down, parting her folds to taste at her entrance - for all her laughing and teasing, her pussy was as much of a traitor as yours when exposed like this. She was dripping.

Joel's rough hands pull your ass toward him, dragging your panties down to your knees, hobbling you. The couch dips and creaks behind you as he brings a foot up to better line up with your hole. The wetness of his cock slides through your slick folds once, twice, then notches the tip at your entrance before he pushes in in one, sheathing himself completely in the heat of your body. You moan and gasp around Tess's clit, never stopping the movement of your tongue.

"Not sure she can handle it," she half chuckles, half moans.

"She can," grits out Joel. "S'taken worse." He slides out and punches all the way back in again, the feeling of his hips snapping against your ass so much less overwhelming when his cock was in your pussy and not your ass. You try desperately to keep up the movements of your mouth, wanting to feel Tess come undone at your hands, but blocking out Joel entirely is impossible with the distracting pound of his cock into you.

Tess grabs more of your hair, pulling it away from your neck and giving him a better view of you and her cunt.

"Fuck yeah, sweetheart," he groans now that he can see more clearly. "Lick that pussy."

"Been a while since you had multiple girls over, huh?" Tess taunts, throwing her head back before Joel can reply.

He nods, pulling your hips back into his as he thrusts forward. "Too fuckin' long." He groans again, meaty hands gripping your ass cheeks hard and pulling you apart at the seams as he pounds into you.

You slip a finger into her wet heat, curling it upwards as you feel inside of her. She's as slick as you, and you wonder if she's ever taken Joel as you have. The thought makes you moan again, just as Joel picks up the pace of his thrusts, slamming into you so hard your mouth jerks over Tess's cunt.

You try to steady yourself, fluttering your tongue flutters over Tess's clit, circling and suckling it into your mouth. You ignore the sensation building inside you as Joel's balls smack against your neglected clit each time he buries himself in you. It's too many feelings, too many sensations all at once.

Joel's hips stutter as he slams his cock into you, chasing his own release, already so close after you'd had him in your mouth for so long. Even closer from watching Tess tease you with her fingers buried in your needy cunt, watching your tongue lathe over hers.

You hear a strangled "Fuck" before he slams his hips forward again, slick cock slipping deep inside you as he floods your pussy with warm, wet cum. You moan into Tess's clit as you feel yourself heat from the inside out.

"Shit. Shit," he sighs from behind you. You want to turn to look at the fucked out look on his face. You nearly do.

"Don't stop, almost there," pants Tess, almost begging you with your face still buried in her wet heat, lapping at her clit with a finger curled inside her. "Pretty girl, almost there," she croons, stroking your hair and rocking into your face.

Gentle circles on her clit turn firmer, more rapid, and the hand in your hair grips you tighter as you pull her release from her. She grinds against your face, pussy throbbing as you lick her pulsing clit through her orgasm.

That same hand yanks you back a moment later, too sensitive to continue, before she relaxes back into the couch with a sigh.

"She's good, Joel," she breathes, a hand idly stroking your hair. You hear Joel grunt in agreement from behind you, his hands still holding onto your ass, and your cheeks heat with the praise.

He moves away, pulling his cock from where it had softened inside you, watching as a small trickle of cum escapes to drip down to your neglected clit.

"Looks like you earned your meds today," Tess laughs, patting your cheek, before standing to pull her pants back on without another word to you.

Still on your hands and knees on the couch, you watch her approach Joel, kissing him on the side of the mouth as he stares, breathing deeply, at your ass. His cum is still dribbling out of you. You flip to sit back on your ass, trying to stop its escape making too much of a mess on his furniture.

She whispers something into his ear, moves to the door, looks at you with a smirk one last time before opening it and leaving.

The door snaps shut, and she's gone.

As soon as the door closes he's on you again, pushing you back down into the couch with a growl. The air is knocked out of you as your back thuds down and he hoists your legs back, folding you in two.

Holding you down and open, the wetness of his mouth engulfs your pussy, slurping your clit into his mouth.

He's devouring you, eagerly eating all of his cum out your hole and cleaning you of his creamy spend.

You moan and twitch beneath him, having spent the last fuck knows how long with your mouth full but the desperate need in your pussy neglected. You'd hoped he could fuck an orgasm out of you, but as soon as the pressure of his cock in you had gotten good, the slap of his balls against your clit hard enough to send a thrill through you, he'd stuttered to a stop, leaving you with an aching pussy and nothing to show for it.

A strong arm pins you down, keeping your legs back, feet in the air. Two of his thick fingers thrust into you, before he pulls them out, licking them clean, then he plunges three straight back in, stretching you more than Tess's four ever had and making you whine, high pitched and needy, for more.

You're so close, so near to falling over the edge, but his desperate licks are too desperate, not focussed enough on your oversensitive pussy, too frantic. You feel like you've been edged for hours, but your clit has barely been touched until now. It's been left starving, aching for attention.

"Joel!" you ground out desperately, looking between your thrown back legs where he feasts on you. His eyes catch you, catch the desperation, the need, and he slows down, honing in on your clit, lapping in steady circles, fingers pumping deeply.

Your toes curl, tears come to your eyes and your bottom lip quivers. You nod at him. He's found it. Exactly what you need, the exact spot. He's relentless now, his tongue moving over, and over, and over as his eyes lock with yours.

"Ohhhnnnnng."

"That's it," you feel him mumble into your clit. "Good girl."

And you're cascading over the edge, into a pit of white heat, different but similar to the one in his eyes when you first saw him today. You shudder and jerk, his tongue flicking over your sensitive bud drawing wave after wave out of you as your pussy spasms around his fingers, gripping them tight and tethering you down as you writhe.

You twitch with oversensitivity and Joel finally stops, tongue leaving your clit, lips pressing firmly to your mound instead as he breathes you in. Your body heaves and you sink further into the couch, stomach muscles finally letting you unfurl from where you'd chased your orgasm so desperately.

"Fuck," he groans so close you can feel his lips move on your skin. All you can do is nod weakly in response. "You okay?" You nod again, not trusting your voice and still not entirely sure you're conscious.

His thick fingers pull from you, leaving you empty, and his hands gently guide your legs down to rest on the couch. Blood is still pounding through your ears, but you hear and feel it... the air that Joel's fingers had pumped into you chooses that moment to escape in one humiliating gust.

Your face drops with embarrassment, and you hear Joel laugh from between your legs.

"Sign of a job done good," he laughs, kissing down onto your pussy, tongue gently swiping along your sensitive clit again. You try to wiggle away, letting out another rumble, fucking fuck, and immediately still as Joel laughs more.

"You done?" he says into your cunt, spreading you slightly to look at your spent hole then to you. "I think she's good." He kisses your clit once more and sits back, stretching his back out on the sofa with his arms behind his head.

You both sit there in silence, recovering your breath and coming back down to earth. Your knees knock together as your legs relax. You close your eyes, breathing deeply, and let the chill of the room cool your sweaty body and the heat of embarrassment from your cheeks.

Much sooner than you'd like, you feel Joel start to move.

"I ain't mad at you, y'know," he says softly as he tucks his cock back into his pants. "Was never mad at you. Just mad."

You knew that already, but hearing him say it still made you feel better. It made you feel like you'd done the right thing, that you hadn't pulled him into something he didn't want. You were justified, you were right. He wanted, needed, to use you as much as you needed to be used.

"You should get goin'," he moves to stand as he speaks, walking away from the couch and from you.

"But -"

He shuts you up with a single look. You sit up wordlessly, casting your eyes down. He was right - what exactly would you even be staying for, really, other than because some part of you wanted to.

You dress in silence, panties still around your knees pulled up, clothes thrown on haphazardly, pills stuffed into an empty pocket. Joel doesn't watch this time, instead he rifles through the box left by Tess. You never see into it, but you watch his profile shift and change as he reacts to what she left for him.

You move closer to the table, making way to leave his apartment without another word, when he's closing the box and speaking.

"I've had a vasectomy," he says pointing to your now covered crotch. "So, y'know... should be fine."

"Oh." You hadn't even thought about it. You didn't even care. "You... you could've done that in my mouth too. I wouldn't have minded."

"Your mouth was occupied," he smirks with a shrug. "Besides, if I wanted to, I would've."

He gestures for you to leave, so you do, Joel following you to the door as you go. You open it yourself, just as Tess had, and walk out. You don't have time to finish saying thank you before the door is shut behind you, leaving you alone in the corridor yet again. You make your way home in silence.

You dream that night of soft lips on your cheek, softer hands roaming your body. The softness morphs and distorts, growing larger and more ragged. Rough hands drag along you, and the scruff of a beard scratches your face as a kiss too delicate to be real comes impossibly close to your mouth.

You wake in a sweat, heat pulsing through your veins and your cunt throbbing between your legs.

You'd come in your sleep to nothing but desperate thoughts of a kiss you'd never had.

next part

tag list: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @noisynightmarepoetry @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

[vagabond-umlaut]

i wish, i wish, i so fkn wish: the walls were deaf

Chapter 3 of functio laesa Gojo x Fem!Reader; Geto & Reader [platonic]; Canon Divergent AU; Isekai. Fluff & Angst & Drama & Humor; Reincarnation; Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies; Incredibly Self-Indulgent; Eventual Happy Ending; Eventual Friendships & Romance.

This was supposed to be the first part of a much longer chapter, but eh. Blame my exams and my impatience, but please not me, for the early post. ^_^

Chapter warnings: None!

Of the many things to call your new life, you never once thought you might call it boring.

Yet here you are. Three weeks since you were released from the hospital. Following a maid down an annoyingly long corridor. Trying, but not really, to stifle the noisy yawns leaving you at regular intervals. Terribly weary and sleepy like the one currently threatening to erupt from your mouth; except it never does, courtesy of the sudden stop the woman reaches outside a room, eyes darting from the closed fusuma doors to you before dropping to her feet. Appearing so very timid and uneasy.

You wonder if you must roll your eyes in exasperation or simply offer her a kind smile... You decide to do neither. Sliding the doors open, you walk in. Sighing only when they are shut quietly behind. Geto lifts a brow, evidently curious. "You're thirty minutes late. Everything's fine, I hope?"

Does he really hope so?

Maybe. Maybe not. But you choose not to comment on it.

The lavishly furnished living quarters, the banquet-esque meals and snacks, the freedom to move as you please within the mansion, the strained yet incredibly polite behaviour from everyone in his 'family'— you know the man cares for you enough to keep his word and ensure your well-being and dignity in this foreign place. Yet, yet, yet... you know this man to be no one but Geto Suguru, so... Yeah. You don't think you can ever be too sure about him.

"Miss?" Geto calls, pushing your speeding thoughts into a still, none too gently as he presses, "Did something happen?"

"No, not really," You reply quickly, hurried if not by the gravity in his words then certainly by that on his features, "It is just that one maid and her stupid fear of me is all. I wish I could somehow make myself look less scary to her, but more often than not, I just end up getting irritated and dismiss her before saying or doing anything."

Sighing once more, you move from near the door to sit on the zabuton. And frown at the smiling man across. Trying your best to shove a rapidly increasing annoyance behind a mask of confusion. "Did I unknowingly crack a joke, Geto-san?"

"Ah, no, you didn't," He answers, shaking his head. The smile on his face grows into a grin, though. "I was just wondering if the maid ever listened in on any of our little discussions... That might explain her strange fear of you, you never quite know."

This reply mustn't tick you off, no. It's possible, you never quite knowing. No one ever quite knows everything. And that's perfectly okay... Still, you find yourself narrowing your eyes slightly and letting go of the lightest hint of a scoff. "Yeah, sure, you might be right," You shoot back the next instant, resting an elbow on the chabudai and assuming a casual smile, "But I don't think anyone would be scared that stiff by overhearing those BORING ASS discussions– no, interviews you took of me," You correct, letting your smile grow a cheeky sting, "Regarding what not: my personal life, my family and friends, my school, my college, my hunt for part-time work–"

"Besides the fact of you being from a world where we're nothing more than fictional characters, yes?"

You fall silent. First by the way Geto interrupts you, yet again, with his smooth friendly smile. Then by the words he utters, taking a beat to register themselves in your brain— then two more to open the gates for panic to rush into that poor overworked organ of yours. You open and close your mouth once, then twice, before eventually sputtering, "But, but, I never meant to spill that fact! And that was the only thing I spoilt! Accidentally, that too!! It was an honest mistake, plus I was slightly tipsy from the sake, and, and–"

"I did not say that to blame you," The man says, no wonder in an effort to look kind, folding the newspaper neatly and placing it on the table. "I merely stated it as a possibility. One which might have been the reality, given the way you were declaring it for everyone in a ten-mile radius to hear," He finishes with a laugh, probably intended to cheer you up but producing the exact opposite results...

Something claws at the back of your eyes.

Rubbing them roughly, you mumble, "But it was an honest mistake, I swear. And, and–" You drag your eyes upwards from the floor to find his gaze trained on you, carrying a sliver of worry. The clawing sensation worsens behind your eyes, travelling to your throat now. You clench your fists to hide the waver in your voice.

"In case she did hear it, it would mean I'm in danger, right? 'Cause that's some pretty weird and sensitive info. And if people happen to get wind of it... Is my safety compromised here, Geto-san?" You finally give voice to the query tormenting your mind, squeezing every drop of solemnity you have into it and your expression. Totally refusing to reveal the shakiness you're feeling in every molecule of your body right now.

Geto watches you for some time, quiet and thinking... then suddenly stands up. And says, face set in a genial smile, "You wouldn't be too opposed to a bit of training, would you?"

For the first time in forever, you don't feel the need to analyse the words spoken to you. Nor the need to rehearse your words before speaking them out loud. Rising from the floor as well, you send the man a small, but genuine grin.

"Finally, you're talking business, Geto-san."

The maid never heard anything from their conversations. She is simply scared of the Reader's resting bitch face. [Reader doesn't know she has an RBF, though. To her, her resting face looks pretty cute (and sort of indifferent).]

Divider by @benkeibear. Header from Pinterest. I don't own the characters used here.

[13as07]

Friends #1

(Rock Lee/Shikamaru Nara)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to unknown]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,733

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Slight angst

Also Rock Lee and Shikamaru love triangle (kind of)

———————————————————————

My back aches as I lean down, reaching for the ground as I stretch myself out. Working out is such a waste. I could be at home relaxing or doing literally anything else, but no. Asuma keeps insisting I keep exercising so my 'joints don't get stiff as I recover'.

It's a small injury, a couple of stitched-up slash wounds that Asuma refuses to overlook, insisting I can return to duty once they're removed. I think he's just being overly cautious but that's the kind of Sensei he is. He cares about me and the rest of the squad more than anything. Even if I don't want to be on medical leave, I should at least get to relax and enjoy it.

But again, no, so here I am, on one of the training grounds of the village. Twenty-seventh maybe? Or maybe twenty-eighth. I don't know, it's a big empty field giving me plenty of room to play around with my tricks and jutsus.

A long sigh spills out as I tug myself back up, standing straight so I can stretch out my arms. "This is going to be such a drag," I mumble to myself, instantly scrunching my face up in disgust when the last word tumbles out.

I'm spending too much time around the chief's son. I need more friends than Shika, Ino, and Chojo. I spend more than enough time with them on missions and training assignments, I don't need to spend my free time with them too.

Though, I've been spending a lot more time with Gai's mini-me. He's a funny guy, straightforward about almost everything, totally work-ethic driven, and competitive enough to put his sensei's competitiveness to shame. Lee is cute for how weird and unaware of a guy he is. His eyes interest me, how round and full they always seem to be.

My recent interest in the Taijutsu user has been the newest topic among team ten. Well, the newest topic for Ino to talk about. Chojo never knows what's going on and Shika only cares if Lee is being a 'gentleman'.

I think it's just Shika's chief-like worries filtering in now that we're getting older and the fate of him taking over for his father is a constant topic among the clan. I find it funny, how unbothered-ly worried he is, especially since Shika isn't much of a gentleman himself.

Ino is a bit pushy about the subject, with a million questions spilling from her after every hangout I have with Lee. She can be mean sometimes, sly comments filtering around me 'settling' or Lee's looks, along with poking at the lack of jutsus Lee uses.

     I'm happy with Lee, in whatever it is we are. The older boy is confusing sometimes, courtesy of his obliviousness. Nonetheless, I enjoy his company and the time we spend together, even if there isn't a title tacked on to it.

     However I'm hoping with Shika's date with Temari this weekend, Ino's focus will shift from my situation with Lee to the new romance blooming for our teammate.

As for Chojo, he's just oblivious to the world, almost on Lee's level. Every time, Ino's 'What did you and Lee do?' question is followed by Chojo's 'You’re friends with Lee?' question.

I shake my head at the thought of Chojo's dumb behavior, focusing back on my stretches. I sink to the ground, finishing out my stretches with my legs. I butterfly them, stretching out my hips and my lower back.

"You're not doing that right," Someone calls from behind me, startling me out of my blissful peace.

"This is going to suck," I mutter to myself, hanging my head backward to see my peace destroyer.

Lee's ears must have been ringing because here he is, standing behind me with his usual big smile. "Let me help you, Nara-San," he chirps, working his way around me.

     "Lee," I groan, shifting my weight to my hands. "I've been telling you for weeks to stop calling me that," I grumble, head flipping back up.

     "Well, what should I call you?" Lee asks, sitting across from me on the ground, eyes as round as ever as he looks at me.

     "I don't know. Anything but 'Nara-San'. That's what people call Shikamaru, not me."

     He sits on my request for a while, eyes slowly blinking at me as he's away in La-La-land. "So..." he starts, life finally back in his dead eyes now that he's present on Earth again. "You want a nickname?"

     "I mean," I start heat rising to my cheeks. It's embarrassing feeling like I asked Lee to give me a nickname. You don't ask for that, it's something that just happens. "That's not what I'm saying, but it's not - not what I'm saying, I guess."

     "I'm confused."

     "Me too," I mutter, dropping my eyes to the ground. Maybe I should have ignored Sensei and stayed home. Lee's obviousness tends to lead me to feel stupid about a lot of things. Mostly about whatever we are. Friends? More than friends? Companions? Hell if I know, and sure as hell if Lee knows.

     "I will think of a nickname. For now, let's fix your posture!" Lee cheers, leaning closer to me. "If you're not sitting straight your muscles won't stretch right," he explains, one of his hands pushing on my spine as the other one pushes my shoulder, forcing my spine to straighten.

     "Maybe I don't care," I answer back, rolling my eyes at the exercise nut.

     "Lotus-Chan!" He yelps, hands jumping from me to his chest. "Stretching is the most important part of exercising. If you don't stretch beforehand you can cause joint pain or even damage your muscles. If you don't stretch after you're more susceptible to injuries. Please tell me you stretch after your workouts."

     I stare at the boy, stuck on the quick-witted nickname. I can't tell if I like it or not. "I don't stretch afterward, no," I mumble, continuing to roll the nickname over. "Lee?"

     "Lotus-Chan?"

     My eyes flicker at the dumbness rolling off of Lee, my question sticking in my throat. He has to know what Chan means right? Or maybe he doesn't, he's pretty naive. "You're dumb," I finally squeeze out, shaking the situation out of my head as I stand up.

     Lee looks up at me, his bushy eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Why did you say that? Do you think I'm dumb, Lotus-Chan?"

     "Of course not, Lee. I'm just teasing," I answer back, patting his head to reassure him further. Despite the constant reminders, I somehow tend to forget how unaware he can be. "Kind of."

     "Kind of?" He asks, quickly climbing to his feet to stand next to me. "I do not understand."

     "Rocky?" I tease, throwing out my nickname for the dense shinobi.

     "My name is Rock, not Rocky."

     I sigh at the boy, my patience quickly running thin. "I know, Lee. It's a nickname."

     "Oh."

     "Give me your notebook," I order, reaching my hand out and wiggling my fingers at him.

     "Of course, Lotus-Chan!" He says in his usually overly peppy tone, saluting me before digging out his notebook.

     I take it from him, tugging out the pen clipped to the cover before flipping through the pages. I scrabble down a book recommendation, one of the many books littered around Asuma-Sensei's house: Are They Flirting? by Bashira Suzuki. I thought the book was pathetic at the time, but maybe it'll help Lee a bit.

     I tear the page out, tucking it into Lee's pocket before giving him back his stuff. "I wrote you a note."

     "I saw," he mutters, nodding his head as he focuses intensely on me.

     "It's a book I want you to read before we hang out again."

     "Why?"

     "Because I said so," I drag out the first word, walking away from the confused boy as I finish my sentence. "I think it'll help you."

     "Help me with what?" Rock asks, trailing after me as I walk further into the field.

     "Us," I mutter, getting embarrassed even though I know Lee won't take it in the way I mean it.

     "Oh, so it'll help me be a better friend. I shall do my best!" His arms pump to his sides, mind set on accomplishing the 'not actually a mission' I gave him.

     "Um, sure," I hum, smiling at the dumb boy who can't take a hint to save his life. "Hey, Lee?" I call, stopping in my tracks.

     "Yes, Lotus-Chan?" He calls back, falling still next to me.

     "Do you kiss all your friends?" I say, referring to the last time we hang out alone.

     During that night, we chilled at his apartment, like we usually do. Well, I chilled and Lee did hundred-something headstand push-ups. The night ended in a few kisses, five or six before I left. It was nice, but even more confusing.

     I've tried to talk to him about it, but the conversations usually end with me angry and Lee confused so I left it alone. It's hard talking to him sometimes and I sure as hell can't talk to Ino about the situation. Or Chojo. Shika usually just shrugs and tells me it 'sounds like a drag' so he's no help either.

     "No, just you," Rock answers, making me feel better. "Do you kiss your friends?"

     "Not usually," I answer, smiling at the dumbie I've fallen for. "Rocky?" I hum, settling on not working out today.

     "Lotus-Chan?"

     "I like you," I mutter, trying to confess again. Maybe it'll click this time. Maybe I should try harder to confuse my feelings but 'I love you' seems too strong at the moment and leaves just as much room for misunderstanding. 'I want to be your girlfriend' seems too straight forward though.

     "I like you too, you're a really good friend."

     "Dear Lord, Lee," I groan, before sighing through my nose. I know he's not doing it on purpose. Lee isn't the kind of person to mess with someone's emotions, but still. He can't possibly be this dumb. "I'm going home."

     "Oh, okay. I'll see you later, Lotus-Chan!"

     "Dumbie," I huff under my breath, storming away from the emotionally unintelligible shinobi. Maybe I should have said 'I want to be your girlfriend' instead. 

—————————————

     "I hate Lee," I mutter just loud enough for Shikamaru to hear.

     "No you don't," he corrects, chuckling at my empty words.

     "Feels like I do," I bite back, eyes trailing after Naruto who's stumbly dancing with Hinata in the yard.

     Lord Hyuga is away on a business trip so Neji and Hinata threw a small house party. Booze, buzz, and leaf shinobis galore. Hence, Shika and me on the porch as a buzzed Naruto dances with Hinata and a wasted Neji dances with Tenten.

     "It's just the alcohol in your system and the blood rushing to your head," Shikamaru continues, tugging me from my hunched-over position on the porch. "I don't know what you see in him in the first place."

     "He's nice," I answer, in search of my drink. The Nara prince shifts it back to me, palm cupping the opening so it's covered. "A little paranoid, aren't we?" I tease, sinking back to lying down, this time with my head in Shika's lap.

     "You can never be too careful," he mutters, fingertip repeatedly poking my forehead to try and piss me off.

     It's a common misconception that Shikamaru and me are a thing. We're close, mostly from the fact we're both from the Nara clan, which means we've grown up together. The closeness was only encouraged when we landed in the same squad.

     People aren't completely wrong. Shika and I have hooked up a few times; drunk stupors, long missions away from the village, and of course curious first times during our youthful days. Nothing ever came of it, of course, but that doesn't mean it never happened.

     "I don't think any of our friends are going to drug me."

     "You can never be too careful," he repeats before tugging my drink back out of my hands. Shika takes a swig of it before giving it back, too lazy to get up and grab himself another drink.

     "I hate Lee."

     "I hate Temari."

     "Shut up. You like her," I tease, poking his ribs with the bottle in my hold. "If you didn't you wouldn't have taken her on a date yesterday."

     "At least I can get a date," he mocks, flipping my hair into my face. "Miss 'why doesn't he like me back', 'why can't he see I like him', 'why can't he-"

     "Ya, ya, ya, I get your point, Shadow Boy," I groan, sitting up straight before finishing my drink. "I'm going to go get another one. You want one?"

     "Ya," he answers, watching as I stumble to my feet. Maybe Shika is right, maybe all my blood did go to my head. "Don't fall on your face."

     "Shut up, Jerk," I shoot back, gaining my balance before heading my way back inside.

     As I walk through the house, thoughts of Lee circle my head. More specifically, thoughts of our kisses. I want kisses. From him. Right now.

     My path switches from finding the drink coolers to finding the dumbie I haven't seen in a few days. It doesn't take long, he's in the lounge room, in the middle of an arm wrestling match with Kiba. I'm not surprised, the two most competitive shinobis of our generation are always testing each other. A group of people are around them, some that I know but most that I don't.

     Lee's laugh and Kiba's groan echo through the room, notifying me of the winner without having to look. People exchange money as I weasel through the small crowd, some pretty happy and others a bit huffy from their losses.

     "Hi," I say, once I fall in front of his view.

     "Hello, Nara-San!" He calls back, a smile on his face as he looks at me.

     "Stop calling me that. I don't like it," I whine, shifting closer. I snuggly fit myself between his knees, fingers curling into his hair as I rest my face on top of his head. "I like it when you call me Lotus-Chan."

     I shouldn't be saying that I shouldn't be standing here, I shouldn't be talking to Lee because he pisses me off beyond belief. But I can't help it. I feel good and I want nothing but his attention right now.

     "You do? You seemed pretty mad last time we talked."

     Dumb, dumber, and dumbest. "That's not why I was mad," I mutter, a bit upset that Rock won't touch me back. "Rocky?"

     "Lotus-Chan?" He calls back, a bit cautious as he looks up at me.

     My hands slide from his hair down to cup his face. "That's me," I hum out, setting my forehead against his. "And you, my dear ninja, are a dumbie."

     "Why am I a dumbie?" Lee asks, his already big eyes going even bigger as he stares up at me.

     "Because you're not touching me. You're really dense. You have a drunk girl clinging to you and you won't even touch me. Why won't you touch me back, Lee?" Even with the alcohol in my system, I feel stupid when the words dribble out.

     "It's not right to touch a drunk person. They can't properly consent," he answers, head tilted in confusion.

     "Oh my Lord, Rock Lee," I mutter, climbing into his lap. His eyes go wide again as I shift myself around, letting my legs hang as my arms wrap around his neck. "I want kisses, and your hands around my waist, and your attention. I'm not asking you to fuck me. That'll just confuse me even more."

     "Oh, well you can have that any time you want," he says, his hands resting on my waist before gently squeezing me. "Why would... um... intercourse confuse you more? What are you confused about?"

"Us," I whisper, dusting kisses across his cheeks and nose. "Do you like me? Do you not?"

"Of course I do. If I didn't like you we wouldn't be friends."

"Dumbie," I repeat, rolling my eyes at the dense man under me. "I like you in a not friend way."

"Then what way do you like me?" Lee asks, his face starting to go red as his body heat rises.

"I like you in an 'I want to be your girlfriend' way," I answer, pecking his lips as I scoot closer to him. "I like you in a 'we should find an empty room to make out in' way," I continue, pecking his lips again before climbing out of his lap.

"Oh... oh!" Lee says, quickly shooting up after me. "I don't... I wasn't - "

"Ya, I know," I cut him off, taking hold of his hand before leading him out of the room, in search of any sort of privacy. I want kisses and I want kisses now.

"I got the book you told me to get," Lee says as he trails after me.

"And you haven't read it yet?" I state more than I ask, the answer is very obvious from the last couple of minutes.

"No, not yet. I'll do twenty laps around the village to make it up to you."

"Or you could just make out with me," I mutter, pushing a door open. There's a bed and no other people, good enough for me.

"I shall do both." I don't even have to look at him to know he's got that determined look in his eye and his head is nodding in agreement with himself.

I tug us into the room, closing the door behind us before plopping on the bed. "Come here," I call, tapping the spot next to me. Rock does as I ask, settling stiffly in the bed next to me. "Rocky?"

"Lotus-Chan?"

"Do you like me back or do you still like Sakura?" The question hurts to ask but I want to know the answer.

It hurts even more watching as Lee looks down at me, no answer coming from him. "I still like Sakura." The answer hurts, making me feel sober and sad for a second. "I like kissing you though, I just..."

"Think of Sakura when we kiss?" Why do I keep asking questions I know are going to hurt me? Why was I wrong about Lee not being the kind of person to play with my emotions? Why did I spend so much time believing he was just naive? Why didn't I see him friend-zoning me so much?

"Ya." Silence falls between us, filling the air with heaviness as I think about the answers I got back.

"Neji told me sometimes people will kiss and such without liking each other. If I knew you liked me I wouldn't have kissed you back the other day. I thought we both didn't like each other and we just... kissed sometimes." The explanation hurts even more, just further proving to me Lee really is a nice guy and that we just suck at communicating. "I'm sorry, Lotus-Chan."

"Just call me Nara-San," I whisper, focusing on the ceiling.

I can feel Lee's eyes on me, staring down at me. "I really am sorry."

"Please leave." Lee stays put for a second, eyes still on me for a beat before he does as I ask, leaving me alone in the room with my heart ache. Why does he have to be so nice? Why does he have to be so dense? So dumb?

After a couple of minutes of heartache and tears, I drag myself out of bed, my mind set on washing away the night, the moment with Lee, his answers to my questions. My goal is set on washing out any inkling of Lee from my mind. He never existed.

"Shika?" I call, scanning the lounge for him.

My heart stings when my eyes land on Lee cozying up to Sakura. I can't bring myself to be mad at him. It's not his fault I fell for him, it's not his fault I didn't communicate better, it's not his fault we didn't talk about our expectations after we first kissed.

"You called?" Shikamaru's voice rings out from next to me. I turn to look at him, his face instantly scrunching up as he looks at me. "Are you... were you crying?"

"Um... if I say no, can you leave it alone until the morning?"

His face scrunches up more, scanning the room of people before settling on me again. "That depends on whether you were hurt or not."

"Physically, no. Mentally, kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Kind of," I repeat, walking away to finish my original reason for reentering the house.

"You can't just say that and then walk away," he calls after me, gripping my wrist as he follows behind me.

The coolers fall into my view, my salvation for my recked night. Shikamaru stays quiet but keeps his hold on me as I kneel, pulling out two drinks. I hold one between my legs, snapping open the other one before chugging it.

"Wow, wow, wow!" Shika calls, trying to grab the drink from me. "Maybe let's slow down."

I shift away from him, finishing my drink before handing the empty bottle to him. "Two things," I start, popping open the second drink before taking a swig. "First, that was terrible but at least it'll hit me quicker."

"Well no shit," he mocks, a smug smile on his face as he rolls his eyes at me. Despite his cockiness, he takes the bottle from me as he eyes the second one in my hand.

"Second, if I asked you to fuck me, would you say no because of your date with Temari?"

"Christ, was your hookup with Lee that bad?" He mocks, making tears form in the corners of my eyes. "Oh shit, I didn't... I'm sorry." His words are rushed, panic on his face from accidentally making me upset again.

"Rock Lee still likes Sakura," I mumble the confession, embarrassment, and sadness filling my chest. How could I be so blind to the situation I was in?

"And I'm still single," Shika says, hand sliding down to tangle with my fingers. His head dips down, pressing against the side of my head as he whispers in my ear. "Let's go find a room."

———————————————————————

[sparring-spirals]

uhoh empire sib meta time.

Courtesy of that last rb by @iinfernal thinking very hard (very affectionately) about love in the form of, we are going to work to keep each other on track. Especially with Caleb and Beau. Because like. its not just about newfound acceptance, people who will give you the benefit of the doubt and help you improve, people who see your worst and love you anyway, people who will forgive you.

Like its about that! But its also about- i trust you to drag me back if i stray. i trust you to call me out, to push back. i am putting my back to you- you will protect it, and you will also pull me back if i wander.

The first big backstory reveal between Beau and Caleb was an exchange, not a kindness. it was, tell me why you are afraid of fire, and ill get you into the library. Caleb laid out some of the corners of his guilty conscience, to Nott, with all of her faith in him, (he is my boy), to Beau, with her skepticism and brusque curiosity, and it was not meant as a soft gesture. It was not a call for forgiveness, or absolution- it was an item for barter, a warning, an admission of guilt.

and Beau- still unsure, still rough around the edges and rude and defensive and angry, shell-shocked and out of her depth did not provide forgiveness, or kindness. She said something along the lines of- good god, you know thats fucked up, right? i didnt ask for this, what the fuck.

She said something like: you know what you need to do now, then, right? prevent this guy from hurting more people. This is what you've gotta do now, I think- this is what we'll do-

And Caleb gets into the library, and casts haste on Beau in a bar fight, and there is something to be said about love shaped like a willingness to disagree, to push back, to say things wrong but try to say it anyway.

Caleb, and Beau, arguing. Beau is suspicious and Caleb is ready to run, and "the problem with friends is you have to care about them". Running into old injuries and boundaries, working to learn them, to fight to communicate. Apologies that are awkward but sincere. Kindness that is misshappen but intentional.

Caleb and Beau, butting heads, poking fun, trusting the other person to be suspicious of them, when it really counts.

"Can we keep each other straight?"

Some fifty episodes apart: have faith in us, just a little bit? dont run.

follow your own advice. don't go.

Caleb, vision and hearing gone and flung out ahead, placing a hand on Beau's shoulder. Lead me well, lead me straight, bring me back if I stray. Caleb and Beau, going in circles about what to do as the world ends, ambition and magic and time and guilt, and entities at war. Worried about evil, about going wrong, needing the clear vision of someone who loves you and will not eternally forgive you.

"I'm worried I am exactly what he said I was."

"Not yet."

God just. Love as keeping each other on track. Beau and Caleb, as the only ones to get the eyes, afflicted by searching too hard for knowledge. what a horror, to have you and your tether tossed into an unknown spiral. what a comfort- if it was any of them, at least it was both. The Mighty Nein, making contingency plans, Yasha sticking close to caleb and cooing over his animal forms and ready, ready, for the worst. What a nightmare. Thank god. "Im glad it was us."

"You drove me insane."

"I hated you. You sucked."

What love. What immense care. Years on in, and it all still comes back to:

"You got my back?"

"What's the play, Beauregard?"

[umbralaether]

From @lookbluesoup (I’m SO SORRY I accidentally deleted the original ask and it’s all broken now </3): “I wish you would write a fic where... there's a sick day, either Eisha or G'raha overworked themselves and the other brings them tea and checks their temperature is just generally soft and insistent the ill person rests”

She should have known he was coming down with something when he fell asleep on the couch beside her long before the sun had set.

When she eventually did wake him to retire to their bed, he followed her down the hall with a dazed look on his face, sparing no time to take care of his clothes after stripping them from his body, and instead crawled into bed in just his underclothes. He's fast asleep by the time she finally gets into bed, and as she wraps her arms around him she can't help but notice how warm he felt. She frowns, silently putting the pieces together. He had been working himself to the bone since he returned to his body on the Source, training from early morning until dusk, rain or shine. It was an adjustment, like a creature used to the sea having to get used to moving around on land, he had said. She sighs, hoping she's wrong and he's just exhausted from ignoring her recommendations of rest.

The coughing is what ends up confirming her suspicions.

G'raha, curled up beside her with his face buried against her back, hadn't stopped coughing since the last bell. A nasty cough, too -- deep in the chest, the kind that leaves your throat sore and head pounding with very little relief. She sits up, turning the bedside lamp to the dimmest setting, and places the back of her hand against his forehead. Much hotter than before.

He senses her movement and crimson eyes meet hers, his voice a hoarse murmur, "Did I wake you? I'm so sorry…"

"Shhh, Raha, don't worry about it. Why didn’t you tell me you weren't feeling well?" She cups his face with one hand, thumb brushing against his cheekbone.

"I was hoping it was nothing--" Another fit of coughing, "that I couldn't sleep off." His ears droop as he tries to hide his pained expression. He nuzzles into the hand on his face, soothed a little by the gentle back and forth of her thumb.

"Oh Raha… you sound awful," she begins to pull the blankets off of her, but he reaches over to hug her around the waist.

"Don't go. Stay." he curls closer into her body heat, shivering despite the burn of his skin.

"I want to make you some tea. It should help, with both your cough and your fever."

"Just need you…" He whimpers, shivering again. She sighs, and tucks the blankets tighter around him. Her fingers work their way into his hair, brushing through the strands. His forehead was slick with sweat, courtesy of the fever and she knows he needs to stay hydrated.

"I'll only be gone for a little while. I want to help you feel better." She kisses the top of his head, "So stay here, I'll be back before you know it."

She slides out of bed, carefully arranges the blankets around G'raha, and heads to the kitchen. Mint tea should do the trick… maybe with ginger and honey too. That's always been my go-to. She fills the kettle up and places it on the stove, and then retrieves the ginger root from the fridge. She carefully peels away the skin, and the cuts off four medium sized pieces and adds them to the kettle.

While she waits for the water to boil, she gathers the fresh mint leaves growing in the window planters. She picks the ones that smell strongest, knowing they'll be most potent for her purpose, and puts them in the infuser basket. In the distance, she hears more coughing. Poor thing.

She runs the cold water, and douses a washcloth in it. Once it was cool enough for her liking, she wrung out the excess and made her way back to the bedroom. A pitiful G'raha perks his ears at her approach, "Eisha, you've returned, I-- ohhh," he groans in relief as she places the cool rag across his forehead.

"Keep that there. Tea should be ready soon." She squeezes his hand before heading back to the kitchen.

The kettle begins to whistle, and she hurries to take it off the heat. She carefully scoops the chunks of ginger out and sniffs, happy with the spiced scent inside the kettle. Grabbing the red mug from the cupboard, she places the infuser inside and fills the mug the rest of the way with boiling water. She takes a spoonful of honey and stirs it into the mug until not a trace of it remained.

She brings the tea back to the bedroom, letting most of the heat leech into her hands on the way, and sets it down carefully on the table next to the bed. G'raha sits up slowly as she gets into bed next to him, letting the washcloth fall to his pillow. His cheeks were still rosy, but he was looking more alert, "You didn't have to go to all this effort…"

"Nonsense, Raha. When I love someone, I take care of them when they're sick. You'll just have to deal with it," She hands him the tea, "Now drink up, it'll help."

He takes a small sip, and then another, "Mmm, this is delicious." He meets her gaze, "So you love me, huh?" He manages to grin.

"Raha…we've been living together for weeks now," She laughs, shaking her head, "I thought it was obvious."

"I can't believe the warrior of light has a crush on me," He teases.

"You are ridiculous," she laughs again, and can't help but grin madly at him. It was true, after all. Against all odds, across time and space, they had come back to each other. She was not eager to let it go easily.

He finishes the tea and lets out a yawn that she returns. She kills the light, and sighs contentedly when he snuggles up next to her, one leg draped over her own.

They sleep soundly, not a single cough to wake them.

[air--so--sweet]

How to Speedrun Bury Your Gays aka That Time Legion Killed All Its Queer Characters In 20 Minutes

Well, 20 minutes 30 seconds to be exact...

First up at the episode's beginning, we have Daniel, who doesn't actually die, but I'd argue having your memory erased with no possibility of regaining it is comparable to death.

But hey he was a two dimensional character who existed solely to have effects on his husband, Clark's, storylines, firstly to humanise him when Daniel was introduced in Chapter 8 and then to add weight to Clark and David's exchange in this episode, Chapter 24. Oh and he also appeared in chapter 20 to remind us he existed since he hadn't been seen or spoken about once since he first appeared. So, not a great loss, right? I didn't even know his name, I had to google it for this post. Not a big deal when he was practically created to die...wait...

So at the 3 minutes 48 seconds mark our first gay has been buried. Record time and we've barely broken a sweat.

Next up we have Lenny and this one is trickier. She's a more developed character with her own agency and who has purpose beyond being a glorified prop. That purpose has been a bit harder to nail down this season but she had some growth in the last episode, choosing to feel the loss of her daughter rather than let David take the pain away or suppressing it with drugs (which feels like it would have been her MO pre David). It also seems she's reached her limit and is no longer willing to blindly follow David and allow him to- oh no, never mind, she's stabbed herself in the neck. I guess it kind of fits with her motivations, since she states to David that he can't have her, prior to stabbing herself. Would it have been more interesting and satisfying narratively if she chose to work with Division 3 to take David down instead? Or decided to try get revenge on Farouk for what he did to her on her own terms, which would also have the benefit of at someone finally trying to hold Farouk accountable for the monstrous things he did? Or even just have Lenny decide she doesn't have a horse in this race since she was drafted against her will and she's going to ride of into the sunset to do her own thing? (this is one hell of a mixed metaphor, I impress myself) Sure...but here she gets to have her last words be a call back to a memory she shared with David...except actually that was a false memory altered by Farouk to hide his presence in David's mind and he and Lenny never had a 'Why is it blue?' exchange in real life nor did she witness said false memory. Love the writer's cared enough about her arc to remember this accurately. And so dies maybe the best role Aubrey Plaza has ever had.

We've now hit the 10:42 mark so slowing down but still keeping a decent pace (sidenote: I remembered Lenny's girlfriend Salmon when writing this, a character who was maybe even less developed than Daniel, and wondered what happened her. We saw her giving birth in the previous episode and then she wasn't present for the rest of her daughter's abridged life courtesy of the time eaters which...actually implies she died in childbirth which is incredibly grim...I don't think it was an intentional implication but it's there nonetheless).

And last, but certainly not least we have Mr Clark DeBussy. Did I know his surname without googling it? Absolutely not. Have the writers ever figured out how to use his character post season one? Absolutely not. Though I did enjoy his one girl talk scene over tea with Syd.

To be fair, I do quite enjoy the scene leading up to his death. While a manufactured scenario, the home movies he's watching of his husband and son do add a melancholy to this scene and I love the visual when he turns to face David that leads to those images being projected onto his face. Teamed with his resigned yet angry delivery of 'I should have killed you the first time we met', David's sad smile as he agrees and Jeff Russo's always beautiful score it is just perfect. And then Clark is grabbed by one of David's cult members and thrown out the air lock and, as we hit 20 minutes and 30 seconds, our final gay is buried...well floating in the depths of space but same thing. There's excellent use of the family video projections again as they briefly overlay the scene of his expulsion from the airship and...it's just occurred to me since going to space in no way impeded David's attack, and Farouk could have gotten pissy with Division 3 for being cowards even if they hadn't started orbiting the earth....did we go to space just for this visual The style over substance of Legion is an ongoing issue but this time I might just accept it, it's a lovely shot.

And thus ends Legion's queer cast's run. There is a further 21 minutes and 40 seconds in this episode in which Syd loses her mind and Kerry looked like she was about to lose a fight and I thought 'Okay actually this is just an episode where characters are going to die, it's coincidence the first three were gay' but then Kerry actually survived and, after a brief second childhood in the astral plane with Melanie and Oliver, Syd gets her mind back...so actually the only people who stayed dead/memory wiped were queer.

I don't know how to to end this. Maybe with the advise to write decent queer representation and don't bury them or at least not all in one fell swoop only taking up half an episode? I wrote a joke about Clark's son not having a name but googled it to doublecheck and he does...it's Buster...Buster DeBussy...Clark was underdeveloped but I refuse to believe he would give his child a name thatvsounds like a side character in a video game. He was better than that

[whump-captain]

the aforementioned whumper pov fic! this was actually so fun to write, the change in vibe was v refreshing (◡‿◡)

(OC, 2600 words)

---

CN: whumper POV, beating, broken ribs, swearing, restraints, captivity

---

"What if you piss her off?" Jenna asks between swigs from her reusable bottle. Her chair creaks as she leans back in it and wheels herself across to the window to throw an investigative glance outside.

Brent snorts a laugh. "What is she gonna do? Glare at me?"

He's in the corner, where some long-gone owner of this dilapidated office has for some reason installed a small bathroom segment - a tiny sink over a wooden cupboard, a hazy mirror, and a broken towel hook, all flanked by arbitrarily laid tiles. Cold water stings his skin as it washes over his hands. The drain can't keep up with the flow and the bowl slowly fills with a pink mixture of suds and liquid. Brent scrubs his knuckles thoroughly, cleaning off the blood that still feels like it's sticking his fingers together. There's red splattered across his trainers, too, and he grimaces at the sight of it. If there was time, he'd clean them right now but he knows he's just going to bloody them again very soon.

The abandoned building's old pipes make a strained hum and Jenna has to raise her voice when she says: "She has a sword, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, cause she thinks she's a fucking anime character." With a roll of his eyes, Brent turns off the tap - the noise of the pipes persists for a few mournful seconds - and shakes the water off of his hands. "I'm not scared of that kid."

"She's not scared of you, either."

"I don't give a shit." He checks the burner phone he has sent the photos from. On the chat app, a blue icon indicates Elaine received the message.

If only it were this easy in real life.

Despite what Jenna seems to think, Brent doesn't care about being feared. She has this image of him as an ego-fueled, macho gang leader; and knowing her background he doesn't hold it against her. She's too good a worker and too smart a woman for him to start shit over something so trivial - which is also why he doesn't need to know her real name. As long as they both keep it professional, it doesn't matter what she thinks about him, nor what he thinks about her. None of this is about his feelings.

That is why he can't care less about whether Elaine fears him, or even respects him. What he wants is for her to follow his rules. And those are as simple as rules can be, with clearly set boundaries and reasons. One: south of this and this line is Brent's territory. Two: any hunting job that pops up there is Brent's job. Three: if somebody comes to Brent's territory and does all of his jobs for free then Brent isn't going to have money to buy food. He's not sure how much clearer he can make this.

Those rules are known in hunter circles and it's just common courtesy to not go around killing shit in other people's neighbourhoods. He's not the only guy with a turf and though this undrawn map of London's division is complex, it should be known even to someone as isolated as Elaine. And he gave her warnings, too. After the first job she stole from him, he only sent some mates with a message to let her know she overstepped. Even the second one he let slide, though it dealt a blow to his budget that he still feels today. He met with her personally and once again explained why she's being a pain in his ass. And that didn't work either.

Brent knows that he's not always the most patient of men, but this time he feels justified in being properly pissed off himself.

"What now, then?" Jenna asks, sounding a little stiff. "Are you gonna kill him?"

Brent looks at the phone again. The sent photo shows the bloodied face of the man he has just finished beating up. Cutter, he's called, and Brent knows of him briefly through some other hunters they've both worked with. Though only an investigator himself, Cutter is fairly well known around the industry, the kind of guy who's quick to make friends on the job - and then to end up being phoned for the next one.

"Don't know yet," he answers.

"Probably should. He's a witness," she points out blankly.

"The word would get out, though." He pockets the phone. If this Cutter is as well-liked as Brent guesses, his death would make some circles in the community and likely lead straight back to him. Not the kind of rep he wants. "Nobody wants to work with a killer."

"Nora's a killer."

"And I fucking hate working with her." Brent rolls his eyes again. The less he hears of Nora's unhinged antics the better. "Also, a dead body is the last fucking thing I need right now. We've got enough shit to deal with."

"Bloody right," Jenna mutters, taking another sip of her drink.

Her gaze through the window is distant now and Brent can tell she's in her own thoughts. He's had to cut her rate since the cash troubles began. If things don't go back to normal, he'll have to dip into his own profits or risk losing her - neither of which is a good outcome. She's a damn good huntress and a reasonable person on top of that. Not a common combination these days, unfortunately.

"Things will pick up when Elaine takes her bullshit out of our territory," he tells her. "You'll see." Then he opens one of the peli-cases littering the room and rummages through the contents. "Come on, I'll need your help."

She puts her bottle away and follows him out of the room.

They make their way up the nondescript, beige-walled staircase and then through the corridor lined with paper-thin doors. Behind one of them is a former IT room: empty, narrow, with windows blocked by huge, long-broken fans. Precious little light manages to make its way past the grid of plastic slats, so the room is dim. The dusty air carries the heavy, nauseatingly sweet scent of blood.

Brent's hostage sits slumped in the corner, head tipped to the side against the wall. He twitches awake at the sound of the door and instinctively pushes deeper into the corner. Apart from that, though, the man called Cutter looks surprisingly composed for someone in his state. A small, casual smile plays on his mangled lips as he tips his head towards Jenna.

"You know, at first I thought you were the one calling the shots," he tells her lightly. "You have that quality."

Brent discreetly rolls his eyes. As if his ego is fragile enough for him to take offense to a jab this obvious. But to humour the attempt, he nods an unambiguous command at Jenna. He doesn't notice the half second of hesitation before she steps forward and punches the hostage in the stomach.

Cutter doubles over with a grunt and stays like that for a while, gasping for breath. Then he straightens back up with effort and chokes out: "Elaine is coming. She knows where I am."

"Yeah, I know," Brent answers. "That's the plan."

"What is that plan, anyway?" Cutter asks conversationally, settling back against the wall. The punch took his breath but not the ease in his voice. "Is this revenge? What did I do?"

"This isn't about you."

"Really? All the punching could have fooled me."

Abruptly, Brent takes a step forward. Cutter flinches. No new emotion breaks through the smile on his face, but his voice does falter. Brent makes no other movements. This is reminder enough.

Any other time, he would probably be impressed by the nerve of this guy. But he's not here to make friends, nor to play at some psychological dick measuring contest - he is here to get something done. This whole useless conversation is just throwing him off-rhythm, messing with the plan he had to resolve this bitch of a situation. Briefly, he considers gagging Cutter just to save himself any more pointless questions. But it's not his nerve that pisses Brent off so much that he wants to break even more of his ribs.

It's the fact that he doesn't have a god damn clue.

"This is about my livelihood," he says, crouching down, "and about Elaine fucking with everything I built."

"You could just tell her to leave."

"I shouldn't fucking have to," he cuts in, temper flaring. That's the whole point, isn't it? It's like talking to a bloody child, explaining over and over things that should be well understood by now. He looks closely at the scrapes and bruises all over Cutter's face, the deep gash on the bridge of his nose and the dried blood, so dark it's almost black. He wants to punch him again, just to get something through to his head, but he forces his muscles to relax and speaks instead:

"She knows where my territory is. She comes here anyway. She brings fucking civvies with her and makes me look like I don't have any control over what happens here. Even if you ignore the last paycheck she stole from me, she's costing me a fucking fortune in the long term. She doesn't give a shit cause she's sitting on a cushy inheritance, but I have bills to pay. Does she care? No."

"I get that," Cutter replies and for a second Brent believes him. But then he continues: "But she's not your rival. She doesn't-"

Brent snaps back: "No, she just thinks she's too fucking special to listen to what I say to her." It's like he's not even there. He repeats and re-words everything, he tries to do this in a civil way but it's like talking to a bloody wall. And so there's only one thing he can do that won't be ignored again. "So I'm telling her for the last time. Get up."

He stands back up, jerking his head towards the door. Thankfully without argument, Cutter braces against the walls, feeling around for purchase as he tries to push himself upright. His arms shake too much to hold him up. Brent sighs; frustration threatens to deepen the sound into a growl but he suppresses it. Ignoring the other man's startled flinch, he grabs him under the arm and heaves him up from the floor. Cutter groans through clenched teeth but gets his feet under him and the weight on Brent's shoulder eases. With a wave to Jenna, he leads his prisoner out of the room and back to the stairway. There's an empty server cage somewhere downstairs, he remembers. In his mind, words keep swirling in and out of shape as they form and re-form sentences that he has to hold himself back from saying out loud. It's pointless and that's what really makes his blood boil. All of this mess and all of the effort it will take to clean it up later; all of this could have been avoided if people just listened.

He staggers slightly as Cutter suddenly goes limp in his grip. He curses under his breath and nods to Jenna - but she's already close and she braces the half-conscious prisoner from the other side. Together they drag him down the stairs. It's a pain in the ass, but Brent prefers this than if he were to start talking at him again. The strange acoustics of the stairway exaggerate the sound of their footsteps into a hollow rhythm. The click of the door doubles with the echo like a kick drum.

The server cage already has a chair in it, a foldaway plastic thing that looks like it remembers the building's opening. Brent drags it over to the middle. Cutter is more awake now, he makes a strangled noise of pain as Brent drops him down on the chair. His head lolls back limply and a fresh trickle of blood from his lip paints a red line among the mess on his face. Brent pulls both his arms to the back and at that Cutter shouts, shocked back into consciousness. Brent ignores his groaning as he twists his forearms to be parallel and presses them to the back of the chair.

"Give me the cableties," he says. Jenna places the bundle of thick plastic strips in his hand. "Cheers."

"You flatter me," Cutter gasps out, a hint of a smile in his roughened voice. "What do you think I'm going to do, break this fence down with my bare hands?"

"Shut the fuck up." Brent manages to get the cableties connected and wrapped around the chair. He has to tighten them one by one, incrementally, so they don't snap like the cheap pieces of shit they are. The zipping sound of them is grating.

"I can convince her, you know," Cutter says. He's looking over his shoulder but Brent ignores him. "She knows you're serious now. If you let me talk to her, I can get it done. She doesn't even have to come here. I can meet her just outside of your territory and it would be the last you'd see of her. I can convince her."

Brent closes his eyes, just for a second. It was truly the simplest of instructions that he just gave. And even that is going completely ignored. Every bubble of his simmering anger pops at once and a sudden fire spills across his entire body, a furious energy in each tensed muscle.

With a short exhale, he opens his eyes. He gathers all that energy and puts it into one quick punch, right into Cutter's broken ribs.

The scream rings in his ears as a note of satisfaction. At least this way he's still listened to. He stands up slowly and circles the chair as Cutter squirms in it, back arched and face twisted in a pained grimace. The chair's feet scrape the floor when it moves with his struggling. Brent waits and on his knuckles he feels the stickiness of blood and dirt. Behind him Jenna is looking aside, her face a blank mask.

As Cutter slowly, painfully regains his breath, Brent crouches down again. He says:

"If you want a better chance of staying alive, the best thing you can do is to shut your fucking mouth." Their faces are level. Brent smells the blood and he knows the stench is going to stick to his clothes for weeks. "You're an actor, ain't you? Play your fucking part."

"Of bait on a string?" Cutter replies, meeting his gaze.

"Yeah." Brent stands up. The energy builds in him again and it takes all his strength to speak instead of yelling: "Bring Elaine here and then make her fuck off. If you're so sure that you can get her to listen."

That last sentence is just a taunt. Of course Cutter will be able to convince her, of course she'll listen to literally anyone else. It's just him who everyone thinks it's completely fine to blow off.

"And then you'll just let us go?" Cutter asks, voice flat. At least he wizened up enough not to try his luck with any more sarcasm. Brent looks down at him and crosses his arms. He resists the urge to wipe his knuckles on the fabric of his sleeve.

"That's gonna be up to her," he answers and, with a wave at Jenna, turns around and leaves to sort out the rest of this bloody fucking mess.

[geekns]

From the bottom of my heart, I need you to know that no one wants to be around you because you're an asshole.

I just spent a good 30+ minutes scrolling through your blog, and you constantly get angry at others' experiences (and actual statistics), you equate your personal experience as the be all end all and don't seem to understand that your life doesn't just negate the other experiences around you. And frankly, none of your replies to any posts I've seen have been kind at all. Why tf would you ever expect anyone to be kind to you when you clearly don't give people the same courtesy?

I wish you the best and hope you can become a happier person. And being miserable just becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. You can make positive changes to your life and become a kinder person, and I promise your life will get better.

Who asked you? No really, I'm being serious. If I'm so annoying, why are you on my blog reading my posts about how I am trying to be open and vulnerable and figure out how to process my trauma?

if you don't like what I'm saying, go away. No one is forcing you to read my ramblings. I have no idea who you are, I don't owe you anything. You don't know who I am and have no right to judge me.

You say I'm asshole and that I'm angry...constantly???

I'm really not. That's simply exhausting. Ain't nobody got time for that. My life is full of laughter. I am very literal, and I love to laugh, and so I do, often at random things that no one else thinks are funny. My life is a comedy despite the tragedy.

Honey, what makes you think that you need to tell me to that I need to try, like I haven't already been doing that for over forty years? Like, did you really just assume that I've been spending my entire life just sitting here saying "woe is me, I need a hero?"

No! Fuck that!

I'm not sitting around wallowing in misery, even in the moments where I allow myself to be honest about how hard things are. (I mean how dare I share such a thing.) I am that one who has to stand back up and fight every time I get knocked down! I've been making "positive changes" for longer than I can remember, taken the advice of so many people. And I keep fighting after other people have given up and gone home! I'm stubborn af. And I'm really not sure what you're trying to accomplish with your pretentious advice, but FYI, I'm just trying to figure out how to keep going. I nearly died a month ago, so sue me for taking a minute to recuperate.

But I reject your characterization that I'm an asshole. You wanna know why? Because the truth is that I am kind, and that's why people assume they can use me or control me. It's a classic blunder that has followed me across this country and the world. One such boss flat-out told me that I was "too nice" and proceeded to try to turn me into exactly who she wanted me to be. She was abusive and controlling and it was a nightmare. And that is only one of many experiences that I could relate.

But you know what? Lying to people isn't kind. Going along to get along isn't actually nice. And I am not hurting anyone, in fact, I may be one of the only people on this hellsite who cares enough to tell the truth even though it would be easier not to. I'm simply trying to be true to myself: hoping to feel a little less alone and help others feel understood in turn. Because I've always believed that we need each other, that we're stronger when we aren't alone.

But I'm certainly not here to mask for you or make you feel comfortable. I'm here to be real. Reality is not always pretty, trauma especially so: it makes us want to look away, but it is what it is. And denying your trauma and the hard things that you're fighting against is not helpful to anyone.

[heartxshaped-bruises]

PROMPTS THAT MAKE ME GO 👀 !!

    @lellarps: ❛❛[ WAIT ] - Taliesin and Fayeth❜❜

                                   ✧･ﾟ  𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃.

★  ⸻   [ WAIT ]: Realizing the receiver is about to leave the room, the sender hastily reaches out and catches their wrist, preventing them from continuing their departure.

------COURTESY VISITS and representative appearances were deeply repugnant to the fae. Before the marriage, Taliesin's only concern was to keep his weapons sharp and not to miss the departures of the Wild Hunt. To be alert, cunning and strategic. He excluded his duties as one of Gabriel's advisors here, which entailed a completely different kind of responsibility. But they suited him and he gladly followed them. This though... this was torture.

       If he had to meet yet another emissary at the princess's side and exchange petty pleasantries, he'd burst with frustration. He saw it... it was part of what he had married into. Or got married into. It wasn't like he got a say in it, after all. NO. He'd just sat there and swallowed the decision of the kings, just like Fayeth. Otherwise he wouldn't be in this position now.

       Tal's sullen gaze had taken on a demonic expression over the past few hours. His attention shifted to Fayeth beside him, well-mannered, just like a princess was supposed to be. He exhaled audibly. ❛❛What's a reasonable wait before we're allowed to issue A DECLARATION OF WAR? We've been kicking our heels for an hour and there hasn't been a single sign that your father's guests are even on their way. I'm fed up with this charade.❜❜

       Snorting disdainfully, he pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against. He had no idea how these mind-numbing and empty affairs didn't drive Fayeth insane. But Taliesin had gone no more than THREE STEPS when a firm grip stopped him. He was a little surprised, but you couldn't tell. His eyes traveled up from his wrist and met the princess' gaze. ❛❛Oh?❜❜ He raised his brows slightly. ❛❛Look, we're brave today. Is it because you care that I stay here with you, or would you just be embarrassed to face your father's allies alone?❜❜

       He was in a foul mood. That was obvious and it didn't bode well. And as he eyed Fayeth, something lurking crept onto his features. ❛❛Did you know that a human hand is made up of 27 bones? In the Feywild you'll find hundreds and hundreds of windchimes the likes of me made out of them.❜❜ The fingertips of his free hand danced over her knuckles, light as BUTTERFLY-KISSES. Tracing the shape of each. ❛❛Each one of them sounds completely unique. If you don't let go right away, I wouldn't be averse to the thought of expanding them by one.❜❜ He glared at her warningly. In the distance, the door to the hall opened. Taliesin reluctantly pulled away from his wife's gaze to see that the guests had finally arrived. Turning his head back to Fayeth, he felt tempted to bare his teeth in reluctance, but eventually settled for a soft and annoyed breath.

       Slowly, he moved back to the princess's side. Trying to maintain a neutral expression that didn't immediately cause the others to flee. The relationship between the two had less tense moments. Had they met outside of an arranged marriage, the fae might have taken a liking to Fayeth. As it was, the two seemed doomed to vent their displeasure on each other. Tal was still waiting for THE SILVER LINING on the horizon.

[wyrmcat]

HEY NEWBIES! TUMBLR BASICS

if you're not used to this site, social media can be all "unalive" this and "algorithm" that, here's the skinny on what tumblr is, from someone who's been enjoying this dumb but also great safehaven of a site since around ehhhhh 2013~14? (made to follow flipnote artists after the service shut down, but didn't dive in right away)

VVV - BEGINS BELOW THE CUT - VVV

POST!!!! This place only has content if people post! i think the most "mainstream" person on here is neil gaiman and he's just kinda hanging out REBLOG!!!! Good rule of thumb is to think of your blog as like... a scrapbook or a casual space. TAG TW/CW IF ASKED! This is more of a courtesy thing if you have a mutual (someone who follows you back) who asks to tag triggers or content warnings. - HOWEVER while this is not technically mandatory, and can be tedious especially on mobile, people generally ask only if they have to. Just use discretion and conversation to gauge this kind of interaction, or suggest to them they they don't follow you (KINDLY) if you dont tag anything ever and are more casual. TAG TIPS! - Tag your tw/cw tags (i.e. #cw alcohol) BEFORE you do other tags. I'm pretty sure I read a while back Tumblr's broken ass search function (we will get to that) will only categorize based off of the first 4 (four) tags. - while there is a distinct "style" to talking or commenting in the tags, don't worry too much about it. Just keep in mind most will read a start and stop between two tags as a pause, and that its easier for people to read them if they're a bit more broken up than a big block. - last but not least, keep in mind op can and most likely will read tags for the comments despite there being a comment section. its a little more of a distance than directly commenting, but they are still seen. i cannot stress enough that you MUST forget about "growth, reach, engagement ect." This is a community you build yourself by following, reblogging, commenting, and blocking. (and a few little housekeeping things to finish up because this long enough as it is) - your blog is YOUR space, and that means that not only is it mostly meant for you, but you are also responsible for the content you circulate. Do your best not to reblog or post misinformation or harassment. - This is one of the last large "old" internet community platforms, and is only kept running by the people who care enough to post, follow and reblog. If you think tumblr is boring, that's kind of up to you to fix as your feed is first and foremost people you follow. - Be kind. I know it sounds cheesy, but I mean it. So much of social media outside of here is malicious, goading, and ruthlessly cruel. Think twice before commenting something snarky or sarcastic towards people you dont know or may not understand the tone of the sentiment. But also be generous and abundant with your kindness towards artists and other blogs who post original content you enjoy! - It's not about how much you hate a bad thing, but how much effort you put into showing intentional love and kindness to the good things. While this does not apply to all things, I think it matters a lot more to people you defend for you to support and uplift them through negativity and bigotry being hurdled at them. I hope this wasn't too much of your time if you're new, and I hope it wasn't condescending to you if you're a regular like me, haha. If I got anything wrong, or was off about something, please let me know or explain below how you would word it differently! I'm by no means above correcting myself. Happy Blogging! (Or would it be tumbling?)

(p.s. Make sure to reblog this so other new users might see it!)

[texasburnt]

Hello yall! Just gonna jump right in with this one.

So lets talk...

How many people I wonder just don't give a fuck about anything posted here? I mean I'm assuming not you cause you're here reading. But they're out ther, they're in here wearing grey uniforms forcing their authority down our throats. It feels so much like nobody cares. It feels so much like it's just something we are supposed to be ok with because we are criminals. Convicts. Labels. To be hidden. Forgotten. Punished.

But pay attention...

When one excuses others inhumane decisions as a right for their own inhumane actions, monsters are bred.

When I ame left in a cell in the middle of summer with 90+ degree temp. outside and 100 or so degrees inside these walls of concrete and metal..I deserve it afterall I shouldn't have come to prison.

When I am left without cold water-policy states we are to be given cold water from the coolers in our dorms every hour- for hours and hours and hours..well I shouldn't have gotten locked up then I'd have whatever whenever. (Ha!)

When I feel faint from the heat and dehydration, struggling to catch my breath so my cellmate has to beat on a steel door ,screaming for help expecting non to come..well I knew better... I should have been better... I should have just been perfect.. Cause they're never done anything to be here. Of course not! And neither has anybody else who looks down their nose at us aand has never experienced this living hell.

Let me get to my point and tell you what I witnessed happen to a nearby cell today (7-6-22)

First off we've been lockdown here at the Hobby Unit for almost 2 weeks now. Left in our cells. Some officers check on us, get us water, showers, good things. Others just don't care. We had the type that doesn't care tonight. This C/O hasn't let anybody out since he got here for his shift. There are about 20 people in the dayroom because the previous shift was the kind who made sure we had water and showers but ended up getting off work before putting everybody back in their cells. So it's been like it usually is in here inmates taking care of inmates. Making sure we have water. Checking on each other, etc.Well somehow this girl got her door open either herself or her cellmate probably was going in, whatever. The point is that she came out get waater and this C/O started yelling at her to go back in. . She said she would after she got water. He called an ICS (I don't know what this stands for but it basically means that an inmate is misbehaving or hurt send help/ someone of rank). So the Lt. comes with people from regional (on the unit to make sure the staff our following policy). The Lt. comes upstairs while the regional stays downstairs talking to the women who are still out in the dayroom from way earlier. The Lt. tells the girl who was trying to come out to get water to go back in her cell, he doesn't care after listening to both of their sides of the story. She starts walking away trying to get the people from regionals attention to tell them he is denying her water but they ignore her. The Lt. puts her in handcuffs to put her back in her cell, throws her in there, slams the door, walks off. wow. Right?

Later my cellmate comes to bring me water and make sure I'm ok again as she was in the shower earlier before shift change. She has interesting news. All the women telling them all that the staff does to is against policy one of them was writing everything down which is great-if something actually gets done about it that is- another one though, he responds with "Yeah, I'd keep you all in your cells too." This info all; comes courtesy of my cellmate, and I believe her. Wow again. Right?

You know wha's sad? I feel guilty sometimes for caring more than "free world people" do. I ignore it and just give a damn about others anyways. It's a feeling based off of their lies , abuse, and mistreatment trying to tell me"I deserve this. We all deserve this.Come, join in, everybody else does it. Why are you different? You think you're better? That you deserve to care?! Don't fool yourself. You're nobody to us, to them... to yourself"

...And I can't help but wonder how many of us hear this voice give this little speech and so many like it... I wonder how many of us fight it.. or ignore it.. or just give in.

When one excuses other inhumane decisions as a right for their own inhumane actions, monster are bred. So, let not be naive.. is it really any wonder how we all got here? We brought ourselves, our homes, out families, our nation, our society, our world to this. But don't mistake me. This is not a reason to give up. No. Be born from the ashes and fight with me. Fight for each other.

-Orchid-

[supcrgrl]

GUIDELINES

do not follow or interact: minors, personal blogs, maga republicans, radical pro-lifers, terfs, pedophiles, homophobes, racists, nazis, drama llamas, etc. i am over 30 and i will block you, i don't care.

don’t follow me if you have no intention of interacting with me or my characters. i am here because i want to rp and i don’t want my follower list full of people who don’t want to do the same. i will end up softblocking those who have never reached out because i like keeping my blog organized.

i am mobile 99.9% of the time so please feel free to cut/format our scenes however you’d like since i can’t do it for us. i don’t always use icons or gifs and i don’t require anyone else to either.

make sure your rules/info are easily accessible and formatted for mobile users. i won’t follow you back if you don’t have a pinned post or a link in the description to your age, rules, etc. and i probably won’t follow back if you use a lot of fancy text that’s hard to for me to read.

i don’t automatically follow back. if i haven’t followed you within a couple of days then i’m probably not going to – please don’t be offended! there’s just only so much my brain can handle and i want to be able to have time for everyone i do follow. i have zero interest in writing against real celebrities, anime characters, furries, or cartoons — sorry! i also might not follow if i don’t know anything about your character or the fandom they're from.

use basic common sense. don’t be a jerk, don’t god mod, don’t force me into weird situations. you do not know my character's deep dark secrets unless it’s canon or we’ve discussed it. i love plotting so chances are i am interested in whatever it is you’re thinking if you just ask!

i am very open to various canon, headcanon, alternate universes, and crossovers. i'm also oc friendly.

you can totally send memes in any time if we’re mutuals and you want to write. i also respond to everything with the intention of it going past the first reply.

i’m a big supporter of quality over quantity. i’m just getting back into writing so i’m not a purple prose, tons of paragraphs kind of writer. i prefer writing in the third person and keeping things less than a couple paragraphs, though i know sometimes a scene calls for more. in any case, i typically try to match my partner.

i can get easily overwhelmed and anxious due to depression and undiagnosed adhd. i might solely focus on one thing sometimes and that’s nothing against you, it’s just what my brain can process at the time.

all sexual posts and scenes are tagged as nsfw or usfw. i might throw in a tw for random triggers, but i typically don’t think of it since i am not personally triggered by much. i try to keep smut to discord though.

for the record, i really don’t care if you don’t like certain characters or who i ship with. no one is making you look at my blog or follow it – mind your own business.

don’t blur the lines between ic and ooc. i’m in no way here to tell people how to play their characters, i know most of us are just here to have fun and we’re doing our very best, but please take your self inserts elsewhere.

when it comes to shipping, i love it! but please talk to me before assuming i’ll automatically write anything romantic with you. some of my characters might have crushes or i might have a headcanon that they're in a relationship with someone else, but i will never force ship on anyone. i expect others to show me the same courtesy. i'm also multi-ship friendly!

[love-toxin]

cw: injuries, yandere tohma, gn! reader

"so...how long do I have to play along with this little game of yours?"

the question spills out of his mouth without warning, yet each word is methodical, careful, like he's practiced it a thousand times before. the teapot clutched in your hands nearly slips out and shatters over the table you've laid out for the two of you, but the warmth of the porcelain fortunately keeps you steady enough until you can set it down in the space between you two. Tohma was kind enough to bring you a gift after spending awhile away, tending to his duties--so it's only natural that you would take him out for some tea in exchange. it's courtesy. it's expected.

but his question certainly is not.

"I...I have no idea what you're talking about, Tohma."

"really?"

he's sat cross-legged for some time now, waiting as you ordered the tea and offering you some idle chit-chat befitting a pair that haven't seen the other in a while. Tohma has always been your friend even when you were young, but as is custom in a place like Inazuma, your relationship has evolved throughout the years. there are things you can't say anymore, things that would ruin your life if you were caught doing them...and now, you fear, the glint in Tohma's eyes may be an omen that he's about to commit one of those unholy acts.

"come on now, sweetheart, everybody can see the truth for what it is. there's no need to hide it any longer."

he's purposely tiptoeing around the question, waiting for the pieces to click in your mind. he need not say anything at all, however--the way he looks at you in this moment, and the purpose with which he stands from his place at the tea table is enough to set your jaw tight and your eyes to darken.

"you know that I was always meant to be your husband. to be there for you through thick and thin, to care for you when we're both old and gray-"

he takes a few quick steps around it to get to you, to kneel at your side and reach out his hands to pull yours into them, and it's all you can do not to flinch away and risk the image of impropriety. but you've endured this lecture before, and the only thing screaming inside your head is for you to resist--just resist, don't listen to a word he says, and bite your tongue of any insult until he finally gives up and gets the hint.

"Tohma, stop."

"-to treasure you like no one else will. I understand your point of view, I really do--we're still young, and the world outside of Inazuma seems so big and grand...but you have to realize that the time to settle down is coming for us."

he rubs his thumb over your hand and smiles in your direction, but you can't meet his eyes. and then it's slipping out of your grasp and raising up to your face, and you feel yourself stiffen all over as Tohma gently cups your cheek, his gaze lowering towards your mouth as if he has an idea of what he wants to do. but that would be grounds for you to shriek for a guard, and you're entirely certain that that's the only reason he bites his lip to stave off the desire.

"you were always meant to be mine. you believe in fate, and you've always put your trust in me...so why not let me help you?"

that last part comes as a whisper, the tearoom private but the walls still thin. one of the many secrets you've entrusted to Tohma over the years is your disagreement with Inazuma's strict laws, as well as the etiquette that comes with being a member of the higher class. you've always despised being noble, and Tohma has always understood you, at least you thought so....but ever since he's gotten this ludicrous idea in his head, you've known even less peace than usual.

"I've said it a dozen times, Tohma, and I won't say it again. I'm not marrying you."

you do your best to spit the words out with as much venom as you can muster, yet you still feel the twinge of anxiety at snapping at him so informally. it could spell the end for you quite easily, but when your eyes are drawn back to Tohma's expression, all you can see is bliss written all over his face.

"...even laced with contempt, my name sounds so sweet on your lips. you've so much wit, so much grace, and your beauty leaves me breathless...I know how little you think of me, but-"

fury shoots through every vein of your body, and you know it's the wrong move when you slap his hand away from your face, the smack like a thunderclap in the small space of the little tearoom.

"enough, Tohma! enough. do yourself a favour and stop speaking to me--in fact, I dearly hope you never say a word to me again."

each finger on his hand twitches, only to close in a tight fist and sink back down to his lap. you try to avoid his gaze in this moment, but even turning your head away you can still feel his eyes staring right into your soul.

"you know I can't make that promise. you know that I love you."

that word makes you stiffen, your grip lock on your noble dressings, your blood turn to ice in your veins. you've avoided that for so long but it follows you like a demon, and it's eyes glow a verdant green as Tohma's words melt into your skin and eat you alive from the inside out.

"this feeling of yours....it's not mutual, Tohma. just leave it, and leave me."

you say so, but you're the one that stands from the tea table in the end, and Tohma jumps to get to his feet to follow you. he trails on your heels as you step with purpose towards the door and slide it open, the cool chill of Inazuma city in the night prickling your exposed skin. the blond hurries to get in front of you, and the moment you spot a few other citizens on the path this late at night, you tilt your head down and pray to the gods that Tohma won't force you into impropriety.

"...I see. you won't budge on this, then...I will have to accept that. but may I at least escort you home? I can't in good faith allow you to wander alone in the dark. I still care for you."

he looks down on you with a softness to his features, and you hate how easily you buckle under any sort of pressure from him. you prided yourself on not giving in before, but when you're not alone it's not nearly as easy--you have to piece your words so carefully together, and by the time you think of an excuse it will already be too late for you to reject his offer. so with as subtle of a huff as you can manage, you speak softly under your breath that you suppose that's fine, and grit your teeth as you thank him for the offer. and Tohma is all too relieved to stand beside you as you walk down the hill and leave the prying ears of the city, the silence near unbearable between you as you meander through the path cut down the middle of the farmer's fields.

"seems there's no one around. not a surprise for this time of the night."

it's not a terribly long walk back to your family's estate, but Tohma still evidently feels the need to speak up as you reach the end of the gently sloping hill. Konda village lies within sight in the distance, and you feel the tension weigh heavy on your heart as you count the steps closer and closer to safety. relative safety that is.

you're so focused on paying him as little attention as possible that you don't even take notice to his hand drawing closer to yours and his eyes wandering up and down your figure, practically salivating as the flames in his chest burn hotter and hotter, until the moment he can't take any more and he grabs you by the shoulders to stop you and force you to look him straight in the eyes.

"now, you're going to listen very closely. I'm going to give you a little gift, because I love you so very much. you get a minute's head start."

the shock catches you off guard to the point that you bite your own tongue, fear and panic shooting through you like icicles that make you freeze in place. Tohma's expression is so intense he nearly appears feral, pearly teeth glimmering in the light from the moon as he grins down at you like a predator examining their prey.

"here's the deal, sweetheart--if you can run all the way past Konda village, you win. but if I catch you, I win, and you must uphold your promise and marry me in a month's time. and if you win, you'll get your wish--I'll never speak a word to you again."

terror grips you even harder than Tohma is, and at his proposal you whip your head towards the village in the distance and then back to him. if he's seriously not making some kind of sick joke, then there's absolutely no way you would ever make it. you're not a fighter, you don't even know how to hold a sword much less have a vision, and you've seen the kinds of things Tohma is capable of....he'll catch you before you make it anywhere close.

"Tohma-"

his gaze lingers on you for a moment, before he turns you in the direction of the village and pushes you forward, only hard enough for you to stumble a bit. you want to question him, to try and talk him down from such an insane idea, but once you hear him start counting down aloud your feet move on their own and you take off in a pitiful run down towards your target. the night air whips by your face as you try to sprint as best you can, yet your robes that give away your nobility get caught on your sandals and trip you up enough that it makes your heart jump into your throat. your heart pounds in a cage that feels too tight, the air heavy and raw in your lungs the longer you fumble your way forwards in the night. even your tears feel cold as they stream down your face, and if speaking wouldn't expend your precious energy then you would surely be wailing for Tohma to stop, please, he's scaring you. especially once you hear his footsteps take off, and it feels as though his warm breath is right on the back of your neck.

but even so, you look up within moments to find yourself in the middle of the quiet little village, the lanterns dim and only the glow of the moon casting light on the humble little buildings. the panic ceases but resurges just as quickly when you remember that you're not safe yet, that the entrance to the village is still a few hundred metres away--and you can hear Tohma panting now, at a distance close enough that he'll make a grab for you long before you'll ever get there. but there's something you know that he probably doesn't remember, and it might just be your saving grace as you duck into the shadows and skirt around the mayor's house just as he skids into the path of the village. you fear in the pit of your stomach that getting the top off the well that you used to play near as children would make a great deal of noise, but you hurry forward and find it open--and just as you swing a leg over to climb inside and pray that Tohma doesn't think to look for you here, your foot slips on the stone that's still damp from the rain and your world is overturned as you fall through the air. it's not far enough that you can scream or grab for purchase on something, but when you land you hear the sickening crack of something breaking and pain that shoots through your leg so quick that it almost makes you black out.

but something worse is yet to come, and it's Tohma's voice calling out your name, before you look up to the sky and your heart just sinks as you watch his face pop into view over the side of the well.

"oh, archons--baby, are you all right?! did you hurt yourself?"

he hops over the edge quite easily and falls steady on his feat, not even having broken a sweat from chasing you as he hurries to your side and props you up in the crook of his arm. and despite still feeling that twinge of discomfort and panic from him touching you, the agony sets in so deeply that you cling to him without realizing as tears pour down your face and you struggle to breathe.

"let me see...yeah, that's definitely broken. c'mere, I'll help you up.."

just brushing the pads of his fingers over the rapidly-swelling skin of your calf makes you flinch and cry out with pain, and it's obvious by the deep bruising how bad you've hurt it--you wouldn't be able to climb out of here if you tried. but Tohma finds so little trouble in heaving you up into his arms that it's laughable....it would be funny how sincerely you thought you could get away in the first place, if you weren't experiencing the consequences now. and only now is it starting to sink in that you lost, even though he isn't rubbing it in your face. yet.

"poor thing--that was scary, wasn't it? aren't you glad I was here?"

despite how despairing you look, he rubs his cheek against yours as he holds you tight. you realize now how much he's always wanted to do this, and how he's dragging this all out while he has the chance to do it without anyone watching....it's such a rare opportunity, but you don't feel nearly as lucky as he does.

"I'll always be here, sweetie....in sickness and in health, right?"

he murmurs into the shell of your ear, before pressing a kiss to it right afterwards as he reaches out to get a foothold so he can lift you out of here. all you can think about now is how your chance of escaping him has slipped away....and now, your status is a death sentence in the hands of the man who saved your life, and will ask for nothing in return but your gentle hand in marriage. how romantic.