#what's black and white and bled all over?

[studioghibelli]

burnt- a joel miller x reader

summary: life is sweet, but your big, tough, roughed up husband is sweeter. just for you…. only ever you. domestic life is full of happiness, bliss and….. kinky sex?

warnings: daddy kink (sorry not sorry), no outbreak!au, big fat girthy age gap (20s/late 40s), smut (finger sucking, thigh riding, light choking, f receiving oral, creampie, pinkus in vageenja sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink.) no use of y/n.

note: this hasn’t been proofread, so sorry for any grammar errors. xx

You couldn’t remember when it happened.

When the sleepless nights tangled up in his arms, where neither of you quite knew where the other would end or begin, bled into the quiet mornings spent tangled in the other’s arms. When breathy moans evolved into deep conversations about the afterlife and family values. You couldn’t remember when Joel went from the wild, rugged cowboy you rode for hours on end, to the supportive husband who protected you, made coffee for you, mowed the lawn and took care of you.

It happened quietly. Naturally. Perfectly.

No more were the nights of stumbling around drunk, fooling around behind your friends’ backs, leaving the labels far away and out of sight.

Oh, no. Not anymore.

The silver band engraved with flowers, a pretty, shimmering gemstone sitting on top, reminded you every day of that.

Now, Joel still had that wild streak in him, that dark tint to his eyes. He still let you know he could, and would, fuck you in to high Heaven, show you just how good of a girl you are. But the sweet, simple domesticity of dancing in the kitchen, grilling for friends, watching the news and shaking your head together- that was all new.

Autumn was dawning over the sticky heat of Texas, the air cooling off ever so slightly, days shortening toward cool, navy nights. Your front porch in the mornings, as the sun rose up, offered you solace away from the sappy humidity, that seemed to cling against your skin like tar.

So, each morning before the world would awake, you would sit on the rocking chair that your doting Joel made just for you, and you would drink your coffee, your tea, your chocolate milk- whatever you were in the mood for during that particular moment- and you would watch your front lawn come alive with bursting rays of light.

Occasionally, on a particularly quiet day, you would see a wild bunny hop through your yard, or a sweet black cat drag its side against the white picket fence of the house across the road.

You relished in these little interactions with nature. You craved them.

And when they were done, before the clock even had the chance to click past 8AM, you would climb back in to bed with your bear of a husband, wrap your arms around his back (which had inevitably turned away from your side through the night), and fall back into a peaceful snooze for the next hour or so, until the blaring alarm on Joel’s phone would begin ringing.

And then, he would awake.

Joel would turn to you, with a goofy, love sick grin on his face, and gently kiss your nose, pulling you flush against his warm, sleepy chest. His deep breaths would vibrate against you, his hands inevitably finding their way to the band of your panties or hem of your shirt, and you would spend the first half hour of your morning feeling his cock inside of you, or his fingers in your mouth, or his tongue against your clit.

Being married….. well now, that was a treat. One you would never get tired of devouring.

The clock had slowly been ticking towards 6 P.M.

Husband Joel would be walking in through those doors at any moment now, and you were still struggling through the recipe, the book propped up on the counter, the shiny pages now tarnished with the smears of paprika, melted butter- anything you had touched in the kitchen, really.

The house was alive with the smell of cooking chicken and boiling pasta. You had tried, and failed, to make garlic bread from scratch. You enjoyed cooking, but Joel never expected it, and what was what you loved.

He never treated you like his slave, or his subservient house wife. You were equals, partners. If whatever dinner you were cooking failed, he had no problem ordering chinese, or making you breakfast for dinner, fluffy pancakes and all.

The thought made your stomach grumble.

You figured today was a beautiful September day, and your husband was a wonderful husband, and he deserved some delicious fucking pasta when he walked through the front door.

When he walked through the front door…..

Sweaty from an honest days work, those curls slicked to his forehead, arms bulging beneath the tight sleeves of whatever old shirt he chose from his closet, worn and faded from the hand of the sun.

Oh, when he walked through that door….

Your knees were already growing weak.

You clutched the edge of the counter, nails gently digging in to the wood. You focused your eyes on the boiling pasta water, your mind wandering with thoughts of Joel. Always of Joel.

His hand had wrapped itself around your neck, belly pressed against the cool counter of the kitchen. The feeling of his fingers gently pressing in to your skin sent shock waves of pleasure rippling throughout, straight to your pussy. He hadn’t even touched you anywhere south of your tits.

Joel was kissing you like a starved man, his hot lips searing your skin, like a poker branding your skin with the mark of his love. His undying, unwavering, steadfast love.

“Joel,” you whimpered, “I need you. I need you to touch me.”

“Touch you where, babydoll? Here?” He asked, his fingers gently tweaking your left nipple. You shook your head no, stifling a moan. “Oh. Hmm. How about here?” He gently brushed his fingers against your belly, tickling your skin until a soft laugh erupted. You shook your head again. “I think I know where.”

Joel used his knee to spread open your legs, pressing you down flat into the counter, your cheeks now resting against the cold surface. His rough palms lay flat against your skin as he dragged them down to your ass, spreading them open as the searing heat of shyness spread through your chest.

“Let me see.” Joel pondered a faux thought, before a smirk overtook his face and he dipped his fingers into the soaked entrance of your cunt, knuckle deep as his body pressed against your back. You felt the outline of his hardening cock jutting through his tight boxers, a shiver running down your spine. “Here. Right?”

“Y-Yes!” You squealed, your nails digging into the wooden countertops. You felt it flaking beneath your grasp, and you knew an indent would be left. Oh well, you thought.

“That’s what I thought-”

Your deep, emphasis on the deep, thought was cut short by someone grabbing you quickly, showering your neck in familiar kisses.

“Joel!” You gasped, jumping as his hands made contact with you. You burst into a fit of laughter, his stubble tickling your jaw line as he spun you towards him.

And there he was. Just as you suspected.

His graying curls were soaked with sweat, framing the sides of his face ever so slightly, and a love sick, honey sweet grin reserved just for you was atop his perfect lips. The sun had almost set, and the amber light flooding in through the transparent curtains had shrouded his figure in a burst of light.

“Evenin’ my-” Joel paused, nose lifting into the air. “Somethin’s burnin-” The fire alarm cut him off, just in time.

“God dammit!” You turned around to see your chicken black as charcoal, smoke fanning from the pan. You were so lost in thought, you completely ignored the food. “Fuck!”

Joel had undone the fire alarm atop the ceiling quicker than you had fanned the smoke away, opening all the windows with a groan. You fell on the couch, dejected and annoyed, holding a crocheted pillow to your chest in a moment of well-deserved self pity. Joel turned to look at you, amusement behind his eyes.

“I was trying to make you a nice dinner!” You explained with a dramatic fling of your arms.

“Mhm… and what happened?” There was a sense of charming fun poking at his words.

“I was…. I was just, uh, I was thinking about some things.”

Joel was getting closer to you, his steps slow. “I’m sure. You are quite the thinker, sweet girl. What was it that was so important, you completely forgot about everything else?”

“Taxes!” You blurted out before you could even stop yourself.

He couldn’t help but laugh, sitting down beside you. His hand gently rubbed your stomach, down to your thighs, your body like jello beneath his touch. Joel’s face was close to yours now, his nose brushing against your cheek ever so slightly. “‘S that so?”

“Y-Uh…. mhm.”

“Now I trust you’d never lie to me.” His breath was hot on your face, and you shivered as his hands ran up and down your torso, paying extra attention to the hem of your sports bra.

“I wasn’t thinking about taxes.” You admitted, guilt evident on your face.

“There’s the truth. Now that’s daddy’s good girl. C’mere.” He patted his lap and you willingly obliged, straddling his thigh as Joel wrapped his strong arms around you, fingers finding the hem of your shirt and pressing against the small of your exposed back. “Now,” he brushed a stray piece of hair away, “what was it you were thinkin’ about?”

“You.”

“Me? Well darlin’, I am flattered. What about me?” His voice was low, right against your ear.

You ignored his question, tilting your neck instinctively as his lips found their way to your skin. You whimpered quietly the first time he kissed you, right beneath your ear, squirming against his denim clad thigh, thick and tantalizing beneath you.

Joel found the waistband of your leggings, slipping his fingers down your panties, into the sticky hot mess that had made itself home in your underwear. His index finger traced your folds, your cunt aching beneath his touch.

Right now, the world was him, and he was you, and your movements were one. Nothing else was as important to you as Joel Miller making you orgasm, over and over and over.

“Oh.” Joel tutted, removing his hand, ignoring the protests that escaped you. “I know what you were thinking about.” There was a charmingly sardonic pull to each of his syllables.

“Do you?”

“Mhm. You were thinking about me fuckin’ that tight little pussy. Weren’t you?”

A sharp breath caught in the back of your throat. You felt that coil, sharp and deep within you, just waiting to be cut, waiting to be relieved.

Even after all this time, Joel still sent shivers down your spine. He still made your knees weak, still made your heart flutter.

You remember people telling you he was too old for you, that he was going to slow you down. That, one day, the honeymoon phase would wear off, that one day it would feel like you had settled for an old man who you’d have to end up taking care of- that was many moons ago…

They couldn’t have been more wrong.

You looked into the eyes of Joel, his orbs darkening as he caught sight of you. He removed his fingers from the waistband of your pants, slowly moving them up towards your mouth, lips thick and glossy with desire.

“Suck.” He commanded.

You obeyed, gently grabbing his wrist with both your hands, inching his ring and middle finger slowly into your mouth. You made a spectacle, put on a show just for him, as you began swirling your tongue around the tips of his digits, giggling quietly as he hummed out in satisfaction. With his free hand, Joel gently grabbed the side of your head, his fingers running through your hair.

“Good girl. That’s my fuckin’ girl.”

You grounded yourself against his thigh, humming softly as he moved his hands to your waist, his grip tight, secure, protective.

“That’s right, grind that little pussy on my thigh. Give me a show, girl.”

You smiled at him, that charming, dazzling smile that made Joel’s heart pound, and slowly took your shirt off, your red bra on full display in front of him. Joel grabbed your tits, kneading them in his rough palms, calloused fingers gently pinching and twisting your nipples, the friction making you moan out.

“Been thinkin’ bout these all day.” Joel murmured, leaning forward and burying his face in the valley between each of your breasts. He groaned into your soft skin, licking a thick, hot strip up your neck as you moved against him. Your clit, swelling and screaming beneath the fabric of your underwear, dragged circles against his jeans as his bare hands grasped the curves of your hips, helping you move and sway against him.

“Joel.” You whispered, begging.

“What, honey? Use your words.”

“Fuck me.”

“‘S that what my pretty girl wants?”

“More than anything.”

Joel pushed you beneath him on the couch, the leather cool and comforting against your bare back. He looked at you, devouring you with his eyes. He was drunk on you now, orbs blown black like charcoal, lips tightened in a carnivorous snarl.

He was hungry.

“God damn, girl. Never gonna get tired of this view.” He moaned out your name as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your belly before taking your pants off, his thumb dragging across the soaked strip imprinted into your panties. Joel leaned forward, following the line his thumb made with his tongue, his ears perking at the sound of your moans.

Joel thumbed the skimpy fabric down your legs, his palms rubbing against your smooth skin, before he propped your legs on his shoulders, face to face with your throbbing, soaked pussy.

His index traced over your fold, watching as it became coated with your wetness.

“All for me?” He hummed out, the pad of his digit now grazing over your clit. It thrummed against his skin, your pussy clenching wantonly against nothing. “Guess I should do somethin’ about this, shouldn’t I? Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to leave my lady hanging like this. All wet and ready for her daddy.”

You whimpered, lips pressed in a tight line, as you watched your husbands every move.

Joel leaned forward, his tongue flat against your clit, looking up into your eyes. He left his tongue there, no hint or movement, as the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

“Please.” Your voice was pathetic, a quiet, distant plea.

“Ohh.” He chuckled between his syllables. “You want me to lick you? Want me to suck on this pretty clit if yours?”

“Please!” You repeated, practically a shout.

Joel chuckled, a deep, throaty, gorgeous chuckle, before wrapping his lips around your clit. His hit tongue swirled slowly around it, your pussy throbbing against his face. He moaned against you, hands grasping ahold of your thighs as he kept your legs apart, his mouth focusing on your pussy.

“Oh, Joel. Oh!” You ran your fingers through his graying hair, curls falling in his forehead as you held him there.

He pulled away, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he spread your lips open, exposing your cunt to his eyes. Joel ran a tongue over his lower lip, pushing into your tight hole with two of his digits, knuckle deep as he watched you squirm and moan for him. Your nails dug into the leather couch, marks you knew would inevitably be left there. You didn’t care right now. How could you? Joel had set you on fire, every nerve panting his name like a chant. No thoughts of the world, of taxes, of burnt dinner- only of him.

Your back arched against the couch as he ducked you with his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles around your button as he kissed his way up your belly and to your chest, stopping to pay extra care to your tight, stiff nipples. You watched as he sucked them, his every move burning in to your brain, before he came face to face with you.

The curve of his nose pressed into your own, the scruff of his cheeks burning against your face as he pressed his mouth onto yours, a deep, passionate kiss engulfing the both of you. He continued thrusting your fingers deep inside your pussy, yet your hands travelled lower, undoing the buckle of his belt, the zipper of his jeans, until all that separated his thick, throbbing cock from your pussy was the right black material of his briefs.

A shaky breath escaped you as he pulled his hand away, slowly moving it to your throat. Joel was careful not to apply any pressure, instead focusing his grip on the sides, a devilish smirk glimmering down at you.

“Use your words, baby. What do you want from me?”

“Cock. Please. Fuck me.” You were begging now, hips squirming into him.

Joel pulled away momentarily and you watched as his long fingers pushed down his underwear, a thick, veiny, angry cock falling out, slapping against your thigh with a quiet noise. He wrapped his fist around his dick, slowly pumping it with one hand as he held you in place by your neck with the other.

“I could just hold you here, ‘til I cum all over your belly.”

You groaned out in protest, dejected.

“Not want you want? Hmm. Oh. You want me to fuck you, don’t you? Want me to fill you up with my cum, ‘till it’s dripping out of you? Yeah, that’s what you want. I see it in your eyes, girl. You want me to pump you full of cum, fill this cunt right up.”

“Y-yeah.”

He shook his head no. “Mhm.” He warned, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. “Words.”

“Yes please.” You corrected yourself, watching as his handsome face became plastered with a smile.

“That’s more like it. See? Manners maketh man.” He teased, his cock now resting right at your entrance. He moved his hand from your throat, both his arms now at the side of your face, before filling you up with one swift push of his hips.

You were full to the hilt, the tip of his leaking dick pressing against your cervix, a jolt of pain, pleasurable and electrifying, rushing through you. Joel pulled away slowly, watching as the folds of your pussy spread again his shaft, a dirty and sexy sight just for him. He groaned, lip caught between his teeth as he started fucking you proper.

“So tight. So fuckin’ tight. You’re such a dream, darlin’. Such a fuckin’ pretty girl for me.”

Joel reached down, thumbing your clit. He watched the way your back curved off the couch, the way your baby hairs stuck to your forehead, the way your lips parted, singing their sinful song of lust- oh, Joel could’ve cum just from looking at you.

“Wanna cum.” You gasped for air, his fingers dancing against your button as he pounded in to you, hips on hips cracking like whips, sweat forming between your bodies, glueing you together like puzzle pieces.

“I’ll make you cum, honey. Don’t you worry.”

His cock was thrusting deeper and deeper, his tip hitting against that spot that made you shudder. Your shoulders rocked forward as you threw your arms around him, bringing him closer to you. You kissed him again, hungry and wanting, fingers knotting into his hair as you felt your belly clenching. Your cunt wept against his cock, and you felt your orgasm brewing.

“Gonna cum.” You whispered. “Gonna cum on you. Gonna- gonna-“ Your orgasm washed over you, hips thrusting into him as you came.

“Thatta girl. Good girl.” He cooed, his hand rubbing your belly gently. “Look at me.”

You looked at Joel, face slack with tiredness, your orgasm wiping the energy out of you. Nonetheless you held him tightly, legs tight around his waist, his movements now sloppy and wanting as he drove in to you.

When your eyes met, Joel’s face softened, the hint of a smile on his mouth. “So pretty.” He whispered, gently holding your throat again. “I love you, you know that?”

You nodded, rubbing your nose against his. “I know. And I love you.” You whispered, promising, smiling against his mouth as he kissed you once more.

“I’m gonna cum.” Joel snarled into your mouth as his cock twitched, spurts of hot cum painting the inside of your pussy, his body tensing as he held you close and tight, groaning your name into your hair. “Oh, fuck.”

You sighed into his chest as he fell into you, rough hands massaging the softness of your sides as Joel drew you in closer.

You laid against him, packed tight like sardines on the couch, before he looked down at you, eyes glimmering with a sparkle of amusement.

“So.” He began.

“So?” You giggled.

“What’re we gonna do about dinner?”

[clockwayswrites]

Masked- Wrong

Dick was tired.

He was tired from fighting as the only baseline human on a team of supers. Tired from leading the team. Tired from stitching the team back together. No, Dick was beyond tired; Dick was exhausted.

Dick was also, and would always be, a Robin.

As soon as he opened the rood to his quarters, Dick knew something was wrong. It didn’t matter that it was too dark to see, it was wrong. His hair stood on end, his muscles tensed, his breathing slowed—

“I know it’s a… pretty big violation of privacy to sneak in like this.”

It was Phantom.

Dick flicked on the lights.

The feeling of wrong didn’t go away. Dicks eyes traveled over Phantom, who was slumped, cross-legged, on the corner of his bed. Wrong, wrong, wrong— his sense screamed at him and Dick tried to make his tired brain kick into gear.

Oh, the hoodie.

It was a dusky red.

Phantom’s clothing was only ever white, black, or green. This hoodie was a dusky red.

“I thought I could take care of it myself,” Phantom rasped.

Dick could tell, even though Phantom’s face was completely covered by the hood, that Phantom was pointedly not looking at him.

“But,” Phantom shrugged, “guess I did too much this time.”

The reverb was gone from Phantom’s voice. There was always this quality when he spoke like an echo or a static hum. Dick always found it a little endearing, the way it would get more pronounced when Phantom was feeling a strong emotion. Now it was gone.

The reverb was gone.

The colors were gone.

Wrong, wrong, wrong—

Dick stepped into the room and silently closed the door behind him. “What couldn’t you take care of?”

Phantom didn’t speak, just pulled up the sleeve on the hoodie— pulled it up with too tan hands to reveal a bandage soaked through with too red blood. Phantom bled green. He rarely bled at all, but he bled green.

The bandage was soaked through with very human red.

Dick took the few steps needed to cross the room and crouch down in front of Phantom. Phantom who ducked his head further down. Slowly, giving Phantom time to pull away, Dick reached up and pushed the hood back.

Black hair tumbled around Dick’s fingers.

Terrified blue eyes met Dick’s own.

The blood was still red.

Wrong, wrong, wrong—

“Okay, how can I help?”

[demonic0angel]

Hotel AU

Jason groaned, holding a military grade field dressing to his wound as he tried his best to walk faster. Gunshots rang behind him and instinct allowed him to dodge, but one bullet still managed to graze him by the shoulder. It only made pain flare up worse, but Jason just sucked in a breath through his teeth and toiled onward to get to safety.

His comms buzzed in his ear, but no one was available at the moment. Jason still muttered a soft, "Requiring backup."

No one answered.

Jason, for an existential crisis-having moment, wondered if he was gonna die again.

Just as he thought this, a hand grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into another building.

Jason cursed and pulled out his gun with his unfortunately injured hand and pointed it towards his assailant, but then paused.

He had been pulled into a beautiful, first class looking hotel area.

"What the..." he started, before he turned.

An enormously tall woman smiled down at him. She was outrageously beautiful, with long red hair tied into a ponytail and a neat uniform covered by an apron. "Welcome, sir, to the Phantom Hotel! You seem to be in need of some assistance, would you like some help?"

Jason felt eerily calm and level headed, even as he bled all over the floors. "... that'd be nice." He said gruffly.

"Right away, sir." She said with a smile. She waved to someone over to his side and continued to speak. "I'm the co-owner of this hotel, you may call me Jazz. May I get your name for registration?"

Jason still didn't freak out yet. "Registration?" He echoed, as he took in his surroundings.

The hotel was beautiful, with tall ceilings, marble floors, white walls and candle chandeliers that glowed with dim lighting. People that didn't look like Gothamites milled around the lobby and sitting area, all relaxed and chatting amicably. There were a few that were dancing to club music. There was a noticeable bar in the corner of the room that looked unstaffed but was conspicuous in its size and black coloring.

"Yes, sir." Jazz said. "I assume that you're staying the night? We offer breakfast in the morning, and drinks are free all night!"

Jason was silent for a moment. A person wearing a similar uniform to Jazz, with a dark green vest and dark colored apron, approached them and immediately got to bandaging Jason's wounds.

Once again, Jason did not freak. He felt oddly calm, and in the back of his head, he knew that he was safe here. His gut instinct was to collapse on top of Jazz and take a nap, strangely comforted by her presence.

"... why am I so calm?"

Fuck it. He decided to just voice his question.

Jazz giggled. It was a cute noise. "Why wouldn’t you be? There’s nothing to worry about. We're the same, after all!"

Jason blinked. Then he turned to her as the attendant stepped away with the medical box, Jason feeling all healed up, and he said, "Is a night here free?"

"For you? Yep! Everything is free here."

Jason gave a nod. "Then I'll take a room with a single bed, please. Breakfast is free?"

"Yes, sir."

"Great. The name's Jason Todd."

Jazz smiled, a sparkle in her eyes that made Jason feel all fuzzy with warmth. "Very good, sir. Your room number is 312, on the third floor. Here's your room card." She handed over a plastic card that was procured out of thin air but Jason didn't think about it.

He was mentally exhausted and being in her presence made him feel like he was going to drop and fall asleep on the floor and still wake up refreshed. It was so disconcerting that it was almost not disconcerting.

Jason eventually found the elevator, though not without lingering a little around the area. The vigilante in him was telling him to be careful, even though everything else inside of him couldn't give less of a damn and was telling him to kick back and relax. Jazz, after registering him, had gone to the bar to prepare drinks.

She mixed together alcoholic concoctions amidst a small crowd and the more Jason stared, the more it seemed like the dim light was hiding something. People looked like they were wearing ragged clothes and a lot of them had dark stains. There were quite a large amount of old people as well, along with people with seemingly missing appendages.

The last two details wasn't a bad thing, but the amount of them seemed like a hint to something bigger.

When Jazz made eye contact with Jason, she gave a sweet smile and a little wave, and that was Jason's signal to leave.

He got into an elevator, went to his room, and practically sank into the cloud-like bed before he basically knocked himself out. That night, he had never slept so well.

When he woke up, his body felt rejuvenated and he almost felt peppy. It was as if his previous irritations were only bad days and he had finally struck on a good day for once.

He washed up, miraculously found his wounds all healed up, and when he went to take a shower, his clothes were found on the sink, all washed and patched up. Even his helmet had been cleaned and fixed, pristine like the day he had first gotten it.

Jason could've been more suspicious.

But to reiterate, he couldn't.

Everything about this place was like a mother's hug. It was comforting. It made him feel safe. He felt like there was nothing to worry about and although a small part of him found this alarming, he really couldn't explain why he decided to trust it.

When he came down the elevator for breakfast, he was astonished.

Last night, the hotel had looked elegant and high class. Now, in the morning, everything looked warm and homey.

The various large rectangle tables had turned into small round tables that were densely packed together. The floor was a cool blue carpet and the walls had turned a shade of cream. The ceiling had shrank, but now flowers and vines grew from it, dropping from the ceiling with bright blossoms. The bar had been replaced with a little coffee area, with a young man behind the counter, currently taking orders.

The people sitting around and eating their breakfasts looked different in morning light. They glowed with faint shades of blue and green.

Jason paused to take in the sight, considering this information before he shook it off and approached the counter.

The man, after noticing him, immediately went to the cash register with a large smile on his face. "Hello!" He said cheerfully.

Jason immediately noted the similarities between him and Jazz. They had the same heart shaped face, the same ethereal beauty to them, the same nose and smile. This man, however, had bright blue eyes and dark black hair that swept over his eyes.

"What are you drugging me with? I'm way too comfortable here." Jason blurted out.

The man paused. And then he burst out laughing. Jason couldn't help the few snickers that fell out of his throat too, but they both quickly calmed down and the man explained softly, "We're not drugging you. You're just comfortable here because it's where you belong. Don't stress too much."

He continued to smile reassuringly. "Call me Danny. I'm the owner. What would you like to order?"

Jason's eyes flicked to the menu and then he said, "A California club croissant and a caramel latte, please."

"Coming right up, big guy!"

Jason moved a little bit away to the side so that other people could order.

He couldn't help but contemplate what was going on, but it was a little hard to think being this close to Danny's presence. The urge to fight against his soothed mind and the urge to just relax were warring, but unfortunately, his latter side was winning.

If Jazz had seemed comforting and like a hug, then Danny was the blanket, fireplace, hot chocolate cup and book on a cool rainy evening. It was like Danny was his missing piece that just sucked out all of the fear, misery, and rage inside of him.

It was almost crazy how Jason didn't want to retaliate against them at all.

"Here you go, Jason." A voice interrupted him and Jason looked up into crystalline eyes before something was pushed into his hands.

Jason looked down at his order and then up again. "Thanks."

Danny smiled. "No problem! You're pretty freaked out, huh?"

Jason shrugged. Then he thought about it and he asked, "Can I leave?"

"Of course you can." Danny said. "Come back anytime. For someone like you, you have the opportunity to come by anytime you want."

Jason nodded wordlessly and then, with his order in hand, he started walking to the door.

For one last time, he turned and met Danny's eyes. Danny smiled cheerfully, his eyes squinted in happiness. He gave a big wave and Jason returned it before he put on his helmet and pushed past the doors into the open air of Gotham's polluted and smoky world.

The rose glasses fell off and the pink sparkles faded away with each blink.

Jason stared dumbfounded at his own state of body and mind, as his siblings and family all screamed into his ear frantically, begging to know where he went and how he was.

Jason could only stare at the gray, listless world around him and wonder if he had imagined everything.

"What the fuck?"

[mallowmaenad]

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl With Eyebags whose wearing an Oversized Black Sweater: I recently remembered all of my past lives. Most of it was spent as various plant life and fungi in the same twenty foot radius in a forest by a rural interstate route until a robin ate the seed containing my soul and flew to another forest where I reincarnated as her child. I would then die a tragic death at a young age to a local fox where I'd live a long life as her kit and eventually die of old age, I then spent several generations as various plant life and fungi in that forest which was eventually destroyed by industry.

I was a tree during that time and my plant fibers were processed to manufacture paper used to make a sticker placed on an orange whose peel was placed in a compost bin, eventually leading me to the dark yet decadent life of a worm until I then eventually expired and awoke as a tomato plant in the care of a kindly older woman, it is that life whose memories I treasure the most.

She was a very skilled and warm woman, and many of my cycles afterwards were spent as my own kin in generations of tomato plants in a blink of an eye. One day she took me into her car in a pot, I remember how she spoke to me. At the time she had named me Reynolds, she had set into a trend of naming me after Hollywood actors she found attractive. It was the day before her daughter's birthday and I was to be her gift, I could not feel bittersweet about this a the time, because I was a tomato plant.

She buckled me into the back seat of a car as if I was a child of her own and drove down a rural interstate route, illuminating the black sea of the night sky with her headlights as the shadows seemed to drown out anything but us. A deer with bone wasting disease stood in the road like a grim reaper, white eyes shining as her aching foot tried to react in time on the break peddle.

The two embraced in a bloody collision, I remember the deer in its last moments weakly nibbling at her flesh as they both bled out in an agony they were ignorant to, I wilted and died in that car along with her and that deer, I do not know what the journey of my soul was like, but my next life was as a patch of semi-feral grass on the side of a similar road caught in the mouth of a possum eating a partially full discarded box of Wendy's fries who was then promptly turned into road kill, when the day was new a burly Appalachian man whose stern demeanor hid a soft heart would legally and cleanly collect the cadaver and break it down, using the remains for a meal some yuppies would find ghastly. This man was my father- or rather my father in this cycle of life.

I know in my heart of hearts that you were that old woman who nurtured me so many times as her beloved tomato plants, you had the rare privilege to live your life as an incinerator at a crematorium, but the march of technology and nut after bolt you grew broken, a death by a thousand cuts, a death by a thousand bodies. Your massive metal cadaver was melted down over time, the raw materials eventually finding itself to a factory that manufactured bullets, a life of darkness in a cardboard prison only to be shunted into a pistol's magazine... your entire existence is interesting, stretching the meaning of what it means to be eaten and to live. The meek 24 year old boy thought nobody would mourn him when he was gone, you lived as an amorphous patch of greenery ahead of his grave stone.

A curious thing would happen during a visit to this boy's grave, his childhood dog either in embarrassing coincidence or a moment of sentience began to dig at where the body was, being wrenched back as it began to desperately sink his teeth into the soil, ripping you asunder. Almost as divine penance, you lived your next life as a member of this dog's litter, you'd be named after the boy, despite being a girl. Maybe the dog was given some precognition and wanted to eat the boy and take his soul into its mouth to get her the life she always wanted. You were unfortunately born with a chronic condition that led you to a young death, the girl's mother crying just as hard after the vet put you down. You were buried lovingly in her back yard where you became a tomato plant, your same mother not being as much of a green thumb as mine but she devoured your fruits all the same, eventually giving birth to another meek boy after growing pregnant during the time when your last tomato was picked off your wilted stem. I have pursued you since that day with my whole body and spirit, one part unintentional one part in this moment of enlightenment. I love you, and I will love you for the rest of forever.

Trans girl who dropped out of high school to make Hello Kitty breakcore who has her girlfriend's dick in her mouth and is high as fuck right now: Waash dat?

Their shared girlfriend sitting across from them playing Wario Land Shake It on her modded Wii U: Was I the deer with bone wasting disease?

6'3" Underweight Trans Girl: ... Yeah...

[lixern]

; xx. wriothesley x gn!reader , modern au

imagine being in a mall youve never gone to before with your friends, so they know the place and you dont. they give you locations but you just cant memorize them all! you tell your friends youre going to the restroom, and they tell you directions to the restaurant theyre going to so you agree to meet up with them there. well.. when you step out- wait, what was the restaurant's name again?

you ponder for awhile, what is it? but then suddenly forget the directions they gave you. god, you just have to wing it.

well, wing it you didnt! you got lost, and didnt see any of your friends in the restaurants you walked pass. you look around for reliable looking people to ask, and there you see a man with black hair with a few gray streaks, with supeeeeerrrr light blue cute eyes! a few piercings and a wolfish appearance to him. you walk up to him and..

tap tap "hey.. uhm- do you know how to get to.." you say, embarassed. you literally just forgot the name!

aha! nevermind that, you just remembered!

"*******. ya, the restaurant? thats the one i think!"

you look like a lost dog!! infront of the most sculpted man youve ever seen aswell... hes so cute, you shouldve asked someone else for directions or your nose probably wouldve bled infront of him if you didnt keep your composture. especially infront of his friends! they looked so attractive too. long, white hair with blue streaks and a dark purplish blue type of hair color? god, youre surprised how such good looking people exist.

he turns to look at you the second you tap him, and now you realize just how tall he is the way he stares down at you!

"Well sure, but the buildings preeeettty big so you want me to escort you?"

wow.. his voice was super hot too. well- wait! nows not the time to dream!!!

you look at him and nod, too stunned at his appearance to speak. you watch him talk to his friends, hearing them but not listening. he then pats your shoulder, signalling your leave. huh.. maybe youll ask his number later.

you walk with him, a bit flustered at how tall he towers over you. should you engage in conversation, should you stay quiet? how do you avoid embarassing yourself infront of a gods creation?!?!

"so, whats your name?"

the man asks in the middle of your pondering, well atleast you dont have to think about that anymore. so.. you give him your name and ask his!

"well, it's [name]. how bout you?"

you sound pretty cool, but inside you arent!! he sounds so pretty, hes indeed a pretty boy..

"wriothesley." he says with a gentle smile, looking down at you with bright eyes. he seems fond of you, but you dont know that!

"rio- rizzley? wosley??" you try to pronounce the name, failing ultimately.

"wrio, for short." he chuckles, patting you on the back. whats up with all the physical affection its driving you mad!!!!!

you laugh slightly, smiling a bit too sweetly for your first interaction and, he notices. but he doesnt wanna scare you away.. youre just so cute!

you talk and talk with him, and hes the same level of talkative as you are! finally, someone who actually responds to your yapping! you just wish he could be your boyfriend right now.. waitwait. you guys just met no way!

its been about 5 or more minutes you guess, then you see him pull out a white card on his bag and write something on it with a pen. he puts the pen back and shoves the card into his pocket. you then speak up, pointing at a restaurant and asking him if its that one. he says yes, nodding as he does so.

"i can go there by myself now, thanks for the help wrio!"

but no, he disagrees.

"nah, i think ill just bring you there. you might get lost even if its just right there."

he smirks, mischievously at that. but.. its kinda cute not gonna lie. so you just nod and walk with him. his hand slides across your side, your hand then the bag you carry, it drives you insane how close you are!

you finally get there, smiling up at him. admiring his pretty face one more time before having to let the sight go.

"thank you really, for the help- I hope it wasnt a distraction to you and your friends hangout or something..."

a light red tint dusts over his cheeks, as he says a polite "your welcome" before walking away. you first fix your composture before entering, but then suddenly.. wait! you forgot to grab his number!!!

"wrio!" you scream, but hes too far to hear you so you just weep internally in vain, before entering the restaurant.

your friends scold you, its been like 20 minutes since they were there! little do they know you got a bit lost.. you sit down beside them, before noticing the pocket in the bag you carried had a little white card peeking out of it...

on the back of the card in the clearest space there is, you read..

i know its just a business card im sorry aha, pretty shit way to tell you my number yeah? but its all i have right now.

maybe you dont have to say goodbye to his pretty face after all.

[dcxdpdabbles]

i don’t know if I’m allowed to ask right now and feel to ignore this but I just really like your shit so here I am :D

anyway

I love the thought of Fanny being the ghost king and the crown not fitting on his head so it falls to his neck line where it hangs off his neck and is either the spikes(idk what the call the pointed bits-) are short enough to see his face or they are thin enough to see though and then when he’s in his human from the crown turns into a black neck tattoo that’s really pretty and stuff!! So imagine this, Danny in Gotham and he’s a singer for Penguin and some rouges or something and he’s irritated so instead of running he continued to sing and it actually sways the course of the fight in favor of his allies while the enemies ears or like bleeding or something as his hair turns white and his eyes go green as the crown shins around his neck and let’s say that his outfit is quite androgynous and nice looking but he’s really pissed because it was a gift and it got damaged or bled on and this starts a rumor that Danny is a meta so the bats and birds go to investigate

Hope you like it and do a little Drabble :)

They hear about the Siren for the first time after a bit of trouble happens to go down in Old Man Rob's. At first, they were a little shocked that anyone would dare give Rob any sort of trouble, seeing as it was a general unwritten role to leave the old man who made clothes for the working girls/boys and for the Gotham Rouges well enough alone.

His work was so well appreciated that the Rouges would even send their minions to outfit them with the standard hire goon outfit. Joker swears by his purple cloth that only Rob could make his men look good.

Old Man Rob made the clothes right out of his home, so anyone who went to him would have a hot cup of tea and soft music from Rob's home country playing in the background. Everyone agreed that Old Man Rob's was welcoming and neutral grounds.

So imagine the uproar when some stupid out-of-city punks attempted to follow some working girls into the house and trash the place. The girls had taken refuge with Old Man Rob after realizing the punks were much more dangerous than they first thought.

When Rob tried to defuse the situation, things turned ugly as one of the men punched the old man to the ground- injuring his back. They had then attempted to take the screaming girls, gone about the house for anything valuable, and smashed everything that wasn't with a bat.

That's when Siren walked in. The androgynous being looked around before throwing themselves onto the men like the snaring mystical creature they earned their name from.

Siren had taken care of the men and had even had them hand-delivered to Penjuin when the supervillain caught wind that the fools were responsible for Rob not being able to complete his latest suit due to his back injury.

One of the working girls had texted her boyfriend, who was employed with Penguin, and that meant the Rouge, with a group of men, had rushed over to help not even ten minutes later.

Once everything was settled, Rob had enough time, as he was being transported to the hospital, to give Siren their outfit as a gift, and Penguin overheard the old man wishing Siren luck on his audition.

After a bit of question, Penguin gave Siren his card and told them to swing by the Iceberg Lounge for an audition if the one they were going to didn't work out.

That was all the Bats were able to gather from the last working girl, who is Jason's informate. Since Siren had no other known sighting, the Bats let them fade into obscurity until rumors of a hot new singer began to feature at the Iceberg Lounge.

Their voice left hundreds of clubgoers memorized, even those who didn't often prefer slow seduction songs when going to the club. The Iceberg does have a more classy feel about it but Siren could make anyone stop for their voice.

Bruce thought it was wise to investigate the meta after rumors that Siren would often help security when someone got too rowdy by singing a tone that could make human ears bleed. So far, there wasn't much information past rumors, and Penguin hadn't made the singer a member of his crime yet, but it was only a matter of time.

No one that powerful could remain neutral with the company they kept.

That's why Dick, Cas, and Jason all dressed to the nines and visited Iceberg Lounge with Brucie Wayne's unlimited credit card. They are treated VIPs- as the Lounge is a legitimate business despite everyone knowing the owner is Penguin- and are seated right before Siren's stage.

The lights drop, and the music tickles to a stop so the live band can get into place. Dick adjusts his cuffs, presses the record button on the hidden video camera on the metal, and leans on his hands to point it to the stage.

They are all wearing earplugs, hoping to stop Siren's powers, but it's better to have someone far away who won't be effect by the sound watching just in case the three get mind-controlled.

The singer who takes the stage is beautiful androgynous in everything from their outfit to their features, but none can deny their beauty of them. They stand in a shimmering black suit resembling a modern king attire, with a half veil dripping from their shoulders. A particular ice crystal snowflake design tattoo circles their neck in a breath-catching upturn of their head.

Once Sirens opens their mouth in the first verse, Cass can understand why the mythical creatures could lure sailors to their water deaths. The voice is as beautiful as the singer, and she can't look away.

She rises with the tempo, falls with the beat, and flouts into the rhythm of Siren's voice. It's not until the singer descends the stage to sing to the lucky few upfront does she realizes she has forgotten why she came here tonight.

Jason carefully presses his foot against her, and she struggles to take her eyes off Siren to look at her bother. His face is relaxed and cocky, like the wealthiest man son can be, but his body language screams worry.

Worry for her.

Shoot, had she allowed herself to fall under Siren's spell?

The singer struts back to the stage, arms raised before slowly lowering on the last long memorizing note, and the lights drop. She clasps politely along with the rest, her heart fluttering.

"That was amazing!" Dick cheers, whistling like a loon. His civilian persona does resemble Brucie the most. "Encore! Encore!"

Siren looks at their table with a bashful smile, and Cass's heart falls. Before she can do anything knowing what that means, the doors to the lounge get blown right off the hinges, and screams erupt through the room.

A rival gang is tearing through the room. Cass hits the ground with her brothers, mentally cursing they can't blow their cover as the thugs quickly round up hostages. One grabs Siren's veil, ripping it right off as the singer tries to run. The action causes them to trip over the stage's long walkway before falling into a table stacked with wine glasses.

She fights to urge to scream when Siren falls. Cass needs to focus on finding a place to change and get control of the situation. Siren could be hurt, they could be-

"You asshole!" The siren screams, standing up and neck tattoo flaring a bright blue. "You ruined my suit!"

The man scoffs, pointing a gun at their head "So what? It couldn't be that expensive for Penguin's little plaything to offered."

"It was a gift!" The siren screams in a sound voice as cold as ice and as unforgiving as death. Cass feels the air freeze over, and suddenly, Siren is signing. But it's not the sweet song from before; now, it's a dead melody that promises death.

She presses herself against the floor more, trying to escape the sound. Her heart is beating so fast that she wonders if she is dosed with Fear Toxin. Cass doubts the others are fairing better as sobs break through the room.

The man holding the gun drops to his knees, screaming and clutching his ears.

Siren remains standing, hair bleeding into white, eyes a blazing green, and his neck tattoo expanding into a crown that seems to cover the lower half of their face. It's a beautiful sight as much as it is terrifying.

Cass can't look away.

Just as quickly as it started, the signing ends when the man falls unconscious and Siren looks human again. They fret over their suit uncaring of the stares from the rest of the club, and make their way to the changing room without a by-your-leave.

Cass is in love.

"We have to report this to B," Jason hisses. "That was Lazaurs Wails."

[this-insidious-dawn]

This Insidious Dawn is a dark fantasy IF wherein you play as a vampire, employed under the clandestine League of the Third God to hunt down anything -- everything - that does not belong in this world. But you do not belong here either, Warden. Demo tba.

☼ SYNOPSIS

The League saved you. Rewrote your life- gave you a chance to be more than a bloodstarved vampyr. Or did they?

You remember nothing of your past before the League; nothing but blood and indescribable agony, nothing but the thrumming of your heart stilling- and then beginning again, stilted and wrong. That was over a decade ago, the memories now faint and the connection quivering. They've been replaced, overwritten by years of blades clashing, body aches, and hollow hunger.

You started out weak. Starving, skin-and-bones, desperate for any reprieve you could get your hands on. Now, you're strong, each hunt -- each cut - giving you just enough energy to keep your worn body going. Some people would call it cruel, to keep a sentient being on the edge of death. Most people, though, would say that you're a vampire, so you hardly count as sentient.

Regardless of the morality of it, the method was effective. You were one of -- no, the most - efficient Warden the League had to offer.

And then a hunt went wrong. And now you're dead. But- a vampire (no, not a vampire; a vampyr) can never truly die. So you're back. But is it really you?

☼ FEATURES

↠ Customize your Warden. Appearance, gender, pronouns, and personality are all up to your choices as the player.

↠ This is a psychological horror first and foremost. It will have themes of dehumanization and derealization, amongst others. CWs will be offered.

↠ A character-driven plot where your choices impact the story.

↠ A cast of four consisting of The Acolyte, The Commander, The Savior, and The Forgotten, any of which you can optionally romance no matter your Warden's gender.

☼ CAST

↠ THE ACOLYTE

As with any vampire, you are accompanied by an acolyte to keep you in check and ensure that your hunts go well- as well as to mend any Gorges that riftspawn might crawl out of. Constantine Nimecidus fills this role, in your case (ae/aer). Ae is sharp-tongued, with a chronic lack of patience towards the people and world around aer, and can come across as snappy or rude. In other instances still, aer sarcastic, dry, and often untimely humor can offer a quick relief from the tension of any situation- or make it several times worse. Despite aer casual, laidback nature in the face of most events, ae places utmost importance on aer job, and quickly becomes intense whenever ae feels as if ae or aer position are being in any way threatened. You've spent years going on hunts with aer at this point, but the connection has never transcended the necessary 'I save you, you save me' exchange. Ae seems wary of you.

Constantine is a bit shorter than most, standing at 5'3. Ae has broad shoulders and hips, and is thickset with both muscle and fat. Aer amber skin is dappled with symmetrical pale patches, especially prevalent around aer eyes and mouth, and the lack of pigmentation has bled into aer hair in some spots, giving the dark auburn eye-catching streaks of white. Said hair is curly and cut shorter along the sides than the back is, and ae spends an awful lot of time preening it. Aer eyes are a striking, slightly luminescent bronze, and aer pupils appear instead of black as molten gold, shifting slightly in color to match aer emotions at any given moment. Ae has full lips and slightly upturned, monolid eyes. Ae favors shades of brown, tan, and orange in aer outfit, and ae near-constantly dons a rich red capelet with fur trimming around the hood.

↠ THE COMMANDER

Ex-commander of the Serpent's Guard-turned vampire. You'd personally never had a run-in with Alvaros Vepir until just recently (he/him). He's gruff, jaded, and withdrawn- exactly what you'd expect out of the man who gave his life for his queen only to nearly die (again) for it. It's hard to say, though, how much of his time as the commander he truly remembers. Alvaros is a poet's dream, the hero in an epic-turned-tragedy. He keeps everybody at arm's length, never allowing them to learn more than what the stories and theatrics tell of him. This is especially true of you- the vampire who was sent to reign him in, turn him from a rogue vampyr into a soldier of the League. Despite his emotional avoidance of you, though, he seems quite interested in you. Maybe it's the fact you're one of the few to have bested him in combat. Maybe it's just that 'vampiric charm' that old legends tell about (but that never seems to work outside of fights). Maybe it's because he remembers you.

Alvaros is intimidating in every manner. He stands at 6'4, his whole body is lean and scarred, and the black sclerae encircling dark green irises certainly does him no favors in lessening the effect. Before you were dispatched to retrieve him, you couldn't have said what he looked like; as the commander, he'd worn the veil regular of high-ranking members of the Serpent's Ring, leaving nothing but the back of his head exposed. Now, you know of his face well enough that you could probably recognize him in a crowd. With fawn skin dotted by freckles, hooded eyes, and a distinctive hooked nose, Alvaros is exactly what one would expect of a native of southern Ghel- save for his hair. Instead of the expected brown or black, his hair is a muddy blonde, and it has slight waves that turn into full curls at the tips. He maintains it short, never reaching past his chin. His face is scarred (his everything is, really), with a particularly nasty gash reaching from his left eyebrow down to his right jaw. It just barely misses his right eye.

↠ THE SAVIOR

An acolyte? You think so, anyways. Suri Revlece is the woman who saved you (she/her). You don't know whether or not she's even with the League, but she certainly looks like an acolyte. You don't know what she was doing there, either, but she seems willing to answer any of your questions while you recover- as long as they aren't personal. She's kind enough, but seems a little...off. She's finicky, always looking over her shoulder. She's running from something, but she doesn't seem to know what. She appears to believe that she and you have some type of camaraderie, although you've never met. But there's something to be said for the sheer strength of her magic- you've never seen an acolyte's shimmer burn a riftspawn like that. Never seen one with an eye glowing that bright, either. She's an anomaly- one that you're sure the headman at your partner's spire would be more than glad to have amongst their ranks, but then the mere idea of it had her denying it with vehemence. It seems like she has a history with it.

Suri has a mesmerizing look to her. The deep brown of her skin, near-black of her hair, and dark garb are contrasted with bright pops of color. One eye is a brightly glowing orange, the pupil nearly white, and the other is a misty grey, its almond shape deformed by the burn scars warping the left side of her face. That dark hair, braided and reaching down to about her hips, is decorated by light brown and gold beads engraved with runes that seem to serve to channel her magic. Her frame is lanky and she's long-limbed, reaching just above what most would think of as an 'average height', at 5'8. Below a brown leather cloak, more runed jewelry decorates her wrists and fingers, and her hands are tattooed in shades of bronze. The burn upon her face is not the only such injury she has suffered; her palms are burnt the slightest bit, and similar scars wrap around her arms. She has a broad nose and thick heart-shaped lips, and light stubble sits above the top lip.

↠ THE FORGOTTEN

You don't know who they are anymore. Who are they? (he/they/she)

A shadowy form, the silhouette of a memory. There's something not quite right about them. What have they become?

☼ LINKS

Demo - tba

Other blogs - @azraels-bad-choices (main IF blog) and @a-firsthand-murder-ballad (other project)

[gay-dorito-dust]

can you make HSR male character with a dead reader (I LOVE ANGST, I LIVE FOR ANGST).

for the characters, it's up to you, but if possible, please include Blade and Jing Yuan (if this topic makes you uncomfortable, don't do it)

Sorry for getting to this after so long and if it was shit.

Jing yuan:

It had been a while since your passing and everyone had seemingly forgotten your name and the fact that you had once lived amongst them.

However Jing Yuan didn’t, he refused to let himself forget the hold you once had over on his heart, mind and soul, or how your actions touching him in ways that he didn’t think were possible.

Life had lost its colour and appeal the moment you died and Jing Yuan had no need to feel excitement for things that he did before with you by his side.

The stars looked dull as though they were mourning you alongside him, the flowers you once given him didn’t smell as fragrant nor looked as healthy as they should’ve. Even the street food stalls didn’t seem at all appetising when you weren’t here to practically salivate over, and or give him the biggest pair of pleading puppy eyes over that never failed to elicit a chuckle out of him.

He stayed inside more often than not as everything outside might as well have been casted in black and white to Jing Yuan, with the only remnants being at your grave of which he often found himself sat in front of.

‘You once asks me what my biggest regret would be and I told you that I don’t live life with regrets, which was a lie and you knew it but didn’t speak up about it, whether it was out of respect or otherwise I’ll never know…not now at least.’ He says with a forced smile, the pain within his chest growing ever greater the more he relived your loss. ‘I am burdened with many regrets. Many of which that have threatened to squash with their weight, but loosing you will be my ultimate regret as with you I was starting to believe in forever in this life once more…only for forever to die with you.’ He concludes as he presses his forehead to your headstone and closed his eyes in hopes of feeling your warmth once more.

But all he felt was the cold, unforgiving and hard surface of your headstone as a tear fell from his eye at the reality that all aspects of you were truly gone forever…

Blade:

Your death was a tragedy Blade couldn’t forget.

It was engraved into every corner of his mind where it was made impossible for him to forget.

Even in his torturous dreams he was forced to watch you die in front of his eyes constantly and in the most horrific ways possible, all the while he remained helpless to stop any of it from happening.

Any remnant of you was clutched tightly in his hand under it bled from his nails digging into his skin, but he couldn’t feel it for he had grown numb. He’d even tie a piece of cloth from your clothes to the hilt of his sword or his finger in order to feel you with him wherever he went.

Just like you always wanted.

Blade couldn’t fully dedicate himself to being your partner but he was more than selfish with your attention and affection. He wanted it all. No, he needed it all for himself and gave you nothing much in exchange other than letting you hold onto him and kiss his scars.

He did love you in his own way and was building himself up to actually be your partner properly, only for you to die selflessly in his arms, whispering that’d you loved him before passing on from your wounds.

Blade thought he should’ve been use to death by now but your death hit him in a way that left him desiring death more than normal, in hopes that he could reunite with you and correct his wrong doings when you were alive.

Now and then in moments where Blade was faced with death, he could feel a presence next to him that felt soft, warm and felt very much like the you he was forced to remember…

[sebastianswallows]

Dreamed of you

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit sister is sent to kill Feyd. She hesitates as she watches him sleep, all the way until he wakes up and catches her.

— WARNINGS: none, just reader simping for one cute boy

— WORDCOUNT: 1k

— A/N: First of all, this isn't necessarily movie!Feyd, it's more based on the books, but I love him in all his forms. I wrote this in a bout of madness this evening, and it's just a love letter to how beautiful and soft and sad Feyd canonically is. That is all.

A shadow in the corner moved. The door shut behind her with a hiss. Outside, the chanting of his name resounded like a distant wave. Feyd. A myriad of emotions raged inside the way that sylphic syllable was said. So mangled and intense were they that she could hardly tell, even after weeks of being on Giedi Prime, if the feeling in their voices was that of fear, or love.

He had won another battle in the arena tonight. Half-fight, half-play, all a spectacle of violence kept elegant and grim with the flourished motions of his blades in inky black and white. The celebrations were kept modest afterwards. This was no birthday.

His chambers smelled of sweet sweat and bitter blood. It filled her lungs as soon as she stepped in. He slept now, quietly, in a surprisingly small bed. As she approached him, dagger in hand, she realised it was not so small — he just took little space on it.

He slept huddled to one side, his body curled within the black sheets as if he were in a womb.

The na-Baron was an arresting sight, like a work of art left interrupted. His marble-white arms hugged a pillow to his chest, and from beneath a curve of silk draped over him, the corner of a knee peeked through. The soft line of his eyes revealed a dour bend in sleep, delicate dark lashes resting like butterfly wings on his cheeks. His full lips, decadent and lustful, were pulled into a pout. She wondered what he was dreaming of.

Beneath this impressive amalgam of his features, from the dainty to the sultry to the broad shoulders and strong arms, he was just a little boy. Motherless and far from home, preyed on by his uncle, worshipped by a distant crowd. Useless, now that the Atreides line had ended and a child had been secured from him by Lady Fenring.

The Kwisatz Haderach would have to be reached through other means, and from a bloodline less volatile than that of the Harkonnens. They had proved uncooperative, hostile — the Baron, his nephews, even Lady Jessica. Born to be an asset, they made themselves a threat. That was why Feyd-Rautha had to die.

She stood over his black bed.

The guards outside were dealt with, the courtiers were asleep, and the drunk and maddened crowd outside would not realise what happened until it was too late. This was the result of years of planning, months of preparation, and weeks spent on that polluted planet pretending to be one of the new interrogation trainers.

Torturing was not her forté, but there were worse fates than cutting men’s tendons clean or gouging out their eyeballs. All the “noble” prisoners were already long dead before she got there. Failed Harkonnens was all that was left. And all men bled the same.

She stood over his black bed with a knife.

“He must die,” she thought to herself, an angry frown blooming on her brow. Her body was already rebelling. “The Reverend Mother demands it. He must die.”

She stood over his black bed with a knife. And faltered.

The blade shone silver in the low electric light, hanging like a teardrop from her fist. Her body refused to move.

Should she really kill him now? Perhaps she should wait for him to turn on his back. What would it hurt to look at him a second more, just another, and another…? He was a good fighter, no matter the arrangements of the arena. Would it not be ignoble to slay him this way? Generations of genetic planning had culminated in him, and to let it all go now...

Her mind’s motions, the fleshy resistance, it all came to nothing in an instant, blown away like snowflakes on the sand. There was a change in the air all around them, a stillness where unconsciousness was before, a presence, like a horn blown through a storm in the lighthouses of old, sounds swallowed by sounds, an impact of cells in the air blooming into a single point of light. Feyd-Rautha opened his eyes.

She only caught the hint of an impish smile before she backed away as quickly as an indrawn breath. Her back hit the door and her hand scrambled for the handle, but he was upon her with the same speed he applied in his gladiatorial fights.

How could she have missed the signs that he had woken? Had his breathing even changed?

“Got you now,” he purred against her cheek, “Bene Gesserit.”

She bit back a scream, her skull pressed against the metal door, and with clenched teeth, she began a sharp command — the Voice. But her anger overwhelmed her and Feyd’s lips swallowed the words she hadn’t even finished speaking.

“Let me g—”

He kissed her like a lover. There was a passion in him that his ostentations of brutality had not yet killed and she found herself moaning, instinctively pleased with the full and masculine presence that swallowed her being — as if it wasn’t a murderer who had caught her just now.

His breathing was steady, as if he had planned all of that. From beyond the thick folds of her dress, she could feel his naked flesh. They clung to him, her clothes, as if they wanted to embrace him. His left hand held her fist, the blade trapped within their entangled grip. The other held her jaw, tilting her face high enough for his lips.

“I knew you’d come,” he breathed, pausing to rest his mouth on hers. She could taste ink on her tongue — the final traces from the coating on his teeth. “I dreamed of you.”

So that was how he knew. That was why he pouted in his sleep.

“Will you kill me?” he whispered.

She could feel it on her cheeks when that boyish smile of his grew.

“I have to,” she said, and her own voice betrayed her, sounding terribly broken.

“Try,” Feyd grinned.

[miniversse]

⭑ “snowbound” pt. 2 ⭑

╰┈➤ OTHER PARTS

⭑ bang chan x female reader

⭑ content includes: drunk sex, established relationship, non-idol chan, non-idol reader, work relationship, mentions of (lip) bleeding, use of pet names (baby, babe, channie), releasing, oral (f receiving)

⭑ note: one of my shorter builds up but i advise you to read through it! i’m planning to make one final part to this series and move on. lmk want you think!

⭑ minors dni

⭑——————————————————⭑

you wiggle closer to him, smelling the soft smell of his shampoo overridden with his enticing cologne. your lips follow the scent, and end up landing on his warm neck. he raises his head, giving you more to work with. his hand was settled on your back, bringing you closer and closer till you could feel the heat of his body against yours.

your mouth seemed to be the star of the show now, but that might change with the amount of emotions passing through your body. chan seemed to be going through the same thing. one minute he’d be resting his hand on your ass, locking lips with you. and one minute he zones out, staring into the crackling fire. you’re confidence led you to a good place so far, so you’ll keep the show up.

“if we were to fuck now, it would be our first intimate act. how do you feel about this?” you smile, tucking strands of hair behind his ear and looking deep into his eyes trying to fish for feelings, emotions, love, hate, hesitation but his eyes never spoke as loud as his actions. chan has always been the colder one in your workplace. always keeping to himself and getting his work done with exceeding performance. he never attended work parties or any party, really. it seemed like his life was black and white, but you brought color to it.

“i feel like i need to fuck you now. god your making my body tense with all these looks you’ve been giving me. get up.”

you oblige, struggling to stand still with how dizzy you began to get. chan knocked you out of it and grabbed your hand to pull you into his bedroom. the door slams behind you and you too, get slammed onto the door. his right hand squeezed the back of your neck and his left hand rested just under your ass. his kisses intensified, biting your lower lip and sucking at it till it bled. he licks the blood of your lip and continues to penetrate your lips with his, tongue intertwining and licking the inside of your mouth. he slightly moves away to catch his breath, and his warm breath runs through your body.

“you feel better when your mine”

the hand supporting your neck slides down to your back and he pulls you into his body.

“say it, say your mine baby”

“i’m yours chan, a-all yours”

your clothes laid on the warm floor, and chan had his hands on your neck and back again, pushing your body backwards onto the bed while exchanging sloppy tongues and bites. his hands guarded both sides of your head as his lean body lingered over you. you both reeked of soju, but what mattered when he was with you.

his finger separate your thighs once he notices the tension you tried to create to ease the pain. his face reaches down to look at your exposed sex, wet and ready for him. he traces kisses from your knee, down and into your thighs, and dangerously close to your folds. your body couldn’t handle his warm breath tickling you every second, and your legs begin to close in once his fingers guide their way to your folds. he tutted repetitively and raised his eyes to look at your flushed face, stretching your thighs wide open again.

you moaned ungodly things to him as he curls his finger- or fingers- inside of you, aiming perfectly for your good spot every time. the sounds of your wetness sloshing around with his long, slender fingers had you gripping the sheets and rolling your head back to avoid suffocating him with your thighs. his tongue takes charge and moves up to your clit and your breath begins to pick up its pace. you couldn’t control your legs anymore.

“baby you’re gonna kill me, literally kill me if you keep closing in on me”

“s-sorry channie, keep going. please”

his arms go from under your thighs and wrap them from the top, keeping you in his control. his tongue taps your bud again and let’s a string of his spit fall onto it, spreading it around with the pad of his thumb. your alarms begin to go off as your orgasm flows to and fro, waiting to crash at any minute.

“fu-ck chan, ‘m gonna come”

“come baby, let me taste your sweet cunt”

and with the last curl of his fingers inside you, you felt your cum drop down and onto chans fingers. he pulls them out and brings his face back up to yours, admiring your pink, flushed face and messy hair.

he hooks his fingers on your bottom teeth and you close on them as he pulls them out, letting you suck them clean. he goes back down to gather more of your creamy release and glides his fingers on his tongue, swallowing with his eyes closed.

your hands move to chans thick cock, stroking him slowly while straddling his thighs. he lets his mouth open slightly, helping him regulate his breathing. your lower body moves closer as he grabs your ass and guides you to his cock. you didn’t hesitate and wanted to let him fill you up, and be satisfied. it would be your first intimate session.

you slowly fall onto his dick, pressing your hands hard on his chest and letting your head fall down. collective grunts join the sound of the distant fire coming to a single flame. you pick up your pace and let yourself feel every vein inside of you. he would let his swollen tip leave your core, and come back into you. his whimpering quickened your pace and his eyes would stare into yours while you moved up and down him. you move your face down to meet his and let your lips linger over his slightly gaped ones, letting out small grunts. your kisses were interrupted to your heads being shot back as you neared your releases. you grabbed onto your breasts to avoid falling unstable. chans hands rested on top of yours as he moaned shamelessly.

“fuck shit fuck. oh my god”

his dick jerked inside of you, and you feel his warm release coat your insides. not too long after you came too, letting it drip out of your penetrated pussy. you let your body loose, and you fall onto chans chest, arms spread out onto the mattress.

chan cleaned up as you remained in a state of being half asleep half conscious. before your body gave in, his arm wrapped around your stomach and he played with your hair, humming your favorite song to you…

⭑ TO BE CONTINUED

⭑ TAG LIST (PM ME TO BE INCLUDED!)

@captainchrisstan

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 6

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 5, Part 7

Walking blindly you were surrounded by darkness. The inky color put you off and attracted you at the same time. Anything before this moment faded away from your mind and any thought of the future was erased.

Step by step you walked further into the void that chilled you to your core. What were you looking for? What were you hoping for? Where were you?

The sounds of a city started to come to you and streetlamps came into view. Black concrete roads paved the way as the sidewalk was formed under your feet.

The night sky was littered with stars and you stopped as memories came to mind. You knew this area, you knew what was about to happen.

Despite urging your body to stop, to not go there, to not witness it again. It didn't listen as it made you run down the streets yelling.

"Ashtray! Ashtray where are you!"

The ragged and tattered clothes you were wearing let the cold air nip your skin. The shoes a size too big with holes let rocks scratch your feet as you stopped and turned back.

You had already gave up trying to stop this scene. This was a nightmare you were going to relive no matter what.

The colors blurred as time was sped up until a series of loud bangs crystalized the scene. Gunshots that still, and currently are haunting your dreams.

The sight of an old, ragged man and a cat laying on the ground stabs your heart. The blood pooling around leads your eyes to the injuries.

Eyes glazed over, a jaw barely hanging on by blood stained muscles, and a bloody hole in his forehead that went all the way through. His clothes did very little to hide the gunshot wounds in his torso.

A lean gray cat with black and white patches was in the man's arms. The dried blood and singular bullet hole in the unmoving cat's side made it clear that Ashtray had died earlier.

You took shaky steps towards the old man and Ashtray. The night sky and urban city washed away into the shadows.

With every step you took they only got further and further. The contradicting thoughts between running away and getting closer rattled you.

You loved them. You loved that old man despite the short time you knew him. You loved Ashtray despite his smell and diseases. It's not like you were any different at that time.

You watched as Ashtray and the old man changed into a treasure hoarder. The first treasure hoarder that you saw die by the nobushi.

The small whisper, "Why?…" was all you heard from the wide eyed treasure hoarder before he turned into a stake. The stake suddenly went ablaze as a man's voice screamed.

"WHY? WHY ME?! OH HOLY CREATOR SAVE ME! HELP ME!"

The last scream he let out jogged your memory of the Watatsumi Island sacrifice. The burning stake exploded as wind blew them together to form a Anemoboxer.

The Anemoboxer that you killed.

He took slow steps toward you as the wounds you left on him bled heavily. The ground shook as he came closer and you can only back up until you no longer felt ground under you.

Your breath was stolen as you fell off the cliff. The Anemoboxers form got smaller and smaller as you continued falling. Your hair whipped in the air as your stomach dropped. At last when you could tell the ground was about to meet you, you screamed.

Nothing but a broken gasp left you as you fell off the bed. The flash of pain from hitting the boat floor was a small price to pay for the relief the cold floor gave your sweaty skin.

You laid there tangled with the blanket on the floor struggling to breathe. The waves slowly rocked the boat as the moon shined through the small circular window.

Your breathing slowed down back to normal as you focused on the sound of Beidou and her crew walking around. The boat must have already left and the majority of the crew must be back from drinking.

The sound of their rowdy footsteps and drunken yelling helped ground you. After escaping the blanket you walked to the small door on the side. As you suspected, it lead to a small bathroom.

After cleaning yourself up from the sweat and grime from traveling to Ritou, you felt a little better. The nightmare lingered in your mind but you were more rational.

That treasure hoarder's death wasn't your doing, That man on the stake may have died for you as the creator but you never ask for it. It was really more of his punishment for his crime then something you caused. Now the Anemoboxer...

He may have been doing his 'job' but that doesn't excuse the fact they were kidnapping children for whatever reason. Many times in Genshin Fatui agents were seen taking advantage and/or trying to harm them. A world quest in Sumeru's Kimara village came to mind concerning the Fatui, children and the Aranara's.

Besides did you hold the other two Fatui skirmishers death against Heizou? No, he did it for a good reason therefore you killed for a good reason too. It sounds brutal but that's the truth. Teyvat has it's own laws after all.

With a lighter heart you examined yourself in the mirror. The bathroom was pretty clean for a pirate crew. Druggie dens and frat party bathrooms couldn't even compare. The mask you wore was still barely hanging on.

The mask Yae got you came to mind. After taking it out of the box you turn back to the mirror and remove your old mask. The sight of your full face left you surprised and bitter.

All the statues and artwork pictured you with a healthy glow, clear skin, and a peaceful or loving expression. It's nothing like the face that looks back at you with eyebags, unkempt eyebrows and tired eyes.

The fact that the 'creator' version of you has become more familiar to you then your real face was depressing. You were starting to seriously doubt your belief in whether Teyvat is better than Earth. Your life is shitty in both… maybe you're the actual problem.

Dismissing the weird end your thoughts turned to, you put on the new mask and left your room. You didn't want to go back to sleep but the thought of staying in that cramped room wasn't appealing either.

Contrary to how loud it was earlier, the boat was quiet. You walked past many passed out sailors and were careful not to step on them. After wandering around the lower decks you finally found the steps leading to the main deck.

The salty and crisp air hit your face like a slap. You grabbed a hold of the railing and cringed as the air woke you up. This was your first time on a boat and the waves could be felt way stronger higher up.

Carefully you walked to the railing and saw Inazuma in the distance. It felt unbelievable that you actually escaped with your life. That you were actually going to explore the rest of Teyvat. As long as you live of course.

The boat must have left not too long ago since you can still see the general shape of Ritou. Inazuma was much more pretty from far away. Maybe whenever you come back you can properly enjoy the sights.

Turning back to see the rest of the main deck, you spot another person. White hair with a red streak, red maple leave patterned clothing, and a Iron Sting sword on his hip was Kazuha.

Kaedehara fucking Kazuha was on the opposite side of the deck. The first acolyte you can talk to without fear of Ei or Yae finding out. No chance of your identity being exposed!

That's what you thought until you remembered the wind that he talked to so much.

You were careful not to stare at him as you began a debate with yourself.

You wanted to live a quiet life to avoid drawing attention and potentially exposing your lie. But you also needed to interact with people to build up creditability in the case that you are caught. Yet the only way to talk to them and not have them dub you as suspicious due to the sensation they feel from when you pulled them is to be clear in your oracle identity.

No matter how you slice it, you have to talk and make connections. Then try to keep things only surface level from then on to avoid spinning too many lies. It was hard enough keeping track of everything, you didn't need to throw in unnecessary lies.

A tightrope you will unfortunately walk as long as you want to live.

You walk to Kazuha and get a better look at him as you approach him. His elbow was resting on the railing with his face in his palm. Eyes closed as the moon illuminated him. Truly the picture perfect of serene.

If you ignore his flushed cheeks and soft snores.

Maybe it would be better to just say hello tomorrow-

Kazuha's crimson eyes open slowly and lock onto you immediately. A giggle leaves him as he stares at you in a daze.

"Hello there… I'm-I'm Kaedehara Kazooha."

He ends his sentence with another giggle. He was drunk. Very fucking drunk. You remember the second Golden Apple Archipelago, Kazuha only drank a few cocktails and couldn't even stand. How did he not fall off the ship like this?!

He moves to take a step towards you and he sways dangerously near the edge. Worried you move forward and steady him by letting his arm hang around your shoulder.

This was now the second time a short anemo guy was leaning on you in this position. Maybe it'll become a pattern with them?

Half lidded red eyes stare at your face and it makes you nervous with the close proximity. What if he remembers this incorrectly and thinks you did something bad to him? You help him stand straighter and speak with a worried tone.

"Hello, I'm Y/N but that isn't important right now. Are you okay? You almost fell off the ship."

"Oh, really? It-It's because Beidou didn't-n't give me the rest of the wine." He slurs his words and pouts at you.

Were you supposed to feel bad for him? Because you only wanted to laugh at seeing the calm and poetic Kazuha pout at you. Was this really the same guy that threatened to brand a treasure hoarders forehead?

Well that sobered you up quickly.

"I'm sure Beidou did that with your well-being in mind. Why don't I help you to your room?"

"I cannot agree… not when the wind is… is sweetly crooning to me of… your brilliance." He giggles drunkenly and finishes. "So please… let me stay with… youUU-"

"Okay, okay! Just please quiet down."

You look around and spot a few sturdy looking barrels. You drag the giggling man to the barrels and sit on the ground with your backs resting against the barrels.

Not the most comfortable position but there were no chairs and you didn't want him near the ledge. Now with more space between you both, he seemed to take in your features better.

"You feel very familiar... just like my friend. When I remember himmm melanch-choly consumes me. But you… you feel like a sweeeet dream that-t I'm returning to."

His words are scattered and hard to understand but the meaning is clear.

"I'm an oracle for the creator. Many acolytes that have met me say the same thing."

"Then why does... the wind sing to meee about you?" The pauses and slurring are starting to decrease but the red in his cheeks stay strong.

"Why does th-the sight of you make me, make me want to spout every bit of poetry in my soulll."

His glazed eyes are now intensely staring at you. If it wasn't for his sleepy blinking and fumbling words you would think he was sober. Kazuha starts scooting closer to you.

"The wind? I'm not sure but it must be my connection to the creator. As for the other part, it may be because you drank too much."

The wind must be anemo, some people theorize that Venti is who he talks to but that's not the most concrete theory. Elements and archons must be different entities seeing as you wielded electro to protect yourself. If Ei and electro were the same, surely she would have the electro harm yourself. Ugh that topic requires more attention then you can give it right now.

"Drank too much? No, no, no. I drank far too lit-little. I just need the taste of something stronger..."

You didn't realize just how close Kazuha was now. He was now boxing you against the barrel with his legs on either side of yours. His hands were pressed on the barrel with his face inching closer.

Holy shit, holy shit. Your first instinct is to freeze when you can feel his breath lightly graze you. His eyes stare at you in slight wonder as he speaks softly.

"You must be my new muse. That is why the wind calls me to you. Having you in my vision makes my heart race. It makes me wish I hadn't drank a single drop of sake, for I am getting drunk on your presence alone. The wind speaks of the glory and happiness you bring to anyone lucky enough to meet you. There is no greater muse that I could long for. The haikus and poems I can create in your presence are-"

Okay so he's still shitfaced, the cold wind only improved his speaking. But he was veering dangerously close to doing something that sober him will hold against you.

"Kazuha, I am extremely flattered to be called your muse. And I truly do wish you luck in your writing but it's best you go to bed now."

He giggles and closes his eyes seemingly not realizing you cut him off.

"Y/N, ah what a sweet name, I understand that you may have some reservations about my words but-"

With no time to lose you move his hand off the barrel so you can move out the way and stand up. You pull him up and wrap his arm around your shoulder to not let him fall.

Ignoring your flushed cheeks and rapidly beating heart you speak softly to Kazuha in case the alcohol makes him react strongly.

"Kazuha, if I am your muse then you must know just how heartbreaking it is to lose your muse. The alcohol impairs you and makes you see me in a foggy state of mind. Your drunkenness' is hindering your vision of me."

He pouts and rests his head on your shoulder. Defiantly he retorts.

"I am not drunk, I drank very little." It feels like you're talking to a cranky kid rather than a full grown man.

"My mistake then, I'm sorry Kazuha. Now which way is your room? To make up for my mistake I should escort you back. Not because you're drunk but so that you could draw more inspiration from me as we walk together."

"Oh I see, it's just down those stairs and then a right till we get to the end of the hallway."

Guiding drunk people into telling you what you need to know is one of the easiest things. You spent a lot of time on Earth surrounded by drunkards and tricking them into spilling information.

With a smile you help Kazuha to his room. With each step the sleepy swordsman became heavier and heavier. You're basically carrying all of Kasha's weight when you finally arrive at his room.

He must be pure muscle from how much weight you were carrying. You push the door open with your shoulder and sigh in relief once you drop him on his bed.

Kazuha sleepily moves to rest his head on the pillow as you catch your breath.

"Well Kazuha I'll see you in the morning." You move to leave but Kazuha grabs your wrist and looks up at you.

"Nooo... Don't leave yet. Stay with me, just for a little while. I'll tell you the haiku I made with the inspiration I got from you."

It wouldn't hurt to stay right? No one could deny that Kazuha was a very cute drunk. You could totally afford to give in for once. You sat on the bed and smiled at him.

"It would be my pleasure Kazuha. The creator has always praised your flowery language so I've always wanted to hear it myself."

Kazuha smiles brighter at the mention of the creator. "Then I'm confident that you will enjoy it Y/N."

"Winds whisper sweet sounds,

In my sight, the brightest star,

Gold masks and bright smiles."

Kazuha finishes the haiku before passing out on the bed. Shoes and all. You try to get up and leave again but his grip on your wrist is tight. You tug your wrist but he's just not letting go.

Is it because he's a skilled swordsman that it's this hard to escape his grasp? After bracing yourself and pulling a few time you finally got your wrist free.

You leave Kazuha's room feeling a lot better then when you first boarded the ship. Although you know Kazuha will be horribly embarrassed when or if he remembers what happened, it's more than okay with you.

Not only will Kazuha automatically have a good impression of you for dealing with his drunken self but also feel indebted to forgiving any mistakes you might make. Plus it was fun not having to worry about any lies to tell or upkeep.

It's futile to hope but you still want to entertain the idea of the rest of your journey being this peaceful. Seeing your favorite characters in passing and admiring the scenery of the different nations. It's what you dreamed of while on Earth and now you'll also dream of it while being on Teyvat. Ironic isn't it?

You remember something and head to the main deck. After walking to and from it, you've figured out the general route. The drunk crew members were still sprawled, passed out on the floor. Which was really annoying to pass over so you took the liberty to move them to sit against the wall.

Once outside you looked towards the direction of Inazuma. It was a lot smaller now but you could still see Narukami Island. It was close enough for what you wanted to test. The lack of witnesses was a nice bonus.

Pulling up the game screen, you went straight for the Wish system. One look at your primogems made you wanna cry. How in the world did you get 15,546?! You only had 46 when you were on Earth! Another mystery that you were not going to spend precious time thinking about.

There was no banner either, instead it had a handprint. Errily similair to the boat you used when you first arrived here. You placed your hand on it and say.

"Show me Kamisato Ayaka's banner."

It starts to glow and you yank your hand away. The glowing stops showing Ayaka's banner with the fours stars from her most recent banner. This could be really helpful and seriously exploited.

The increase of primogems, the banner disappearing, choosing any banner, it must all be due to your power as the creator. Although the game screen is weird and mysterious, it has always helped you. Best not to question it.

You had no pity and only had enough primogems for 97 pulls, would it be enough? Putting trust into whatever luck you had, whether good or bad, you start wishing.

You press the 10 pull option and watch the night sky above you glimmer as a purple shooting star is surrounded by smaller blue shooting stars.

No wonder they believed you were some holy creator who was going to descend on Teyvat with gold blood. The sight was breathtaking.

Maybe Hoyoverse or rather Mihoyo was the true creator and you were just deluding yourself into thinking you were the creator?

Nah too far of a stretch. Plus they knew what was your favorite food, so you were most definitely still the creator.

The game screen displayed all the character constellations and weapons you won. So you kept pulling and pulling with still no Ayaka in sight.

At the 90th pull you finally saw the gold shooting star. It was the sky lighting up with a gold glow that really caught your attention. Unlike the blue stars that fizzled out quickly or the purple stars that joined others to form constellations, the gold star went farther.

It shot across Inazuma until it seemed to be over the Kamisato Estate. It gave one last bright gold glow before disappearing. Looking back at the screen, you saw Ayaka's splash art.

Satisfied, you exit the Wish system and close the screen. Hopefully her life would be easier now that she was a awakened acolyte. That she can feel loved by the creator she treasures so dearly even though you will probably never build her.

You go back to your room and lay on the bed. You fall asleep to the sounds of the waves and creaking of the boats. Completely unaware of the joyful crying from Ayaka and the celebrating Kamisato Clan.

Wanted to keep this a happy(ish) chapter. Plus I wanted a short one after the monster that was part 5. Kazu's haiku was made by me, yes I followed the rules. Like the 5, 7, 5 syllable rule. I'm pretty sure I did it correctly but idk it was my first time doing poetry. I'm just lucky it didn't need to rhyme. The next chapter will be purely boat stuff with Beidou and Kazu. For now at least, may add more as I write the draft. Also going to be counting the Liyue characters to see how many I can fit. Along with locations since Y/N is going to the Adventures guild. Perhaps as I write I'll figure out if Y/N should go to Sumeru or Mondstadt. Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @sielt, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zeniths, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest

[ashwhowrites]

From the prompt list for fluff can I request 21 and 22?

Did you just call me sweetheart?”

“I can keep you company till you fall asleep”

Of course! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Bedtime Angel

Eddie didn't like to admit to anyone he struggled to sleep after the events he faced in the upside down. His body was covered in scars, along with his brain. He couldn't sleep in the dark, he felt embarrassed when he bought a night light. The cashier eyed him weirdly as she scanned the small dinosaur light.

But that small light brought him so much relief. He had it right next to his bed, the bright white light lit up his room. He removed the doors in his closet, he needed to see exactly what was on the inside. He kept all corners of his room clean, he made sure nothing was able to hide in his room.

Wayne wasn't sure where his nephew disappeared too, but he understood he went through some type of trauma. Wayne supplied more night lights throughout their new trailer. He kept the bathroom light on always, he didn't care how expensive the electricity bill was. He'd do anything to make Eddie feel safe again.

After the events, Eddie found himself needing one person only. Y/N, someone he had no idea existed until the gang brought her as a backup in the upside down. She was gorgeous and fearless. She was supposed to bike with Dustin back to the trailer for safety, but once Eddie went down she froze. She screamed at Dustin to get the group while she raced back to Eddie.

Eddie was prepared to die, and he accepted that. He didn't have anything to live for. And dying a hero sounded comforting enough to let go. As he bled out, and scrunched his eyes shut he felt hands on his body. Someone cradled his head as a piece of fabric was pushed against his cuts. The bats left, it was just him and her.

"Go." He mumbled, his eyes peered up. Her worried eyes were focused on keeping him alive.

"Shh, it's okay. Dustin is getting help. I'm not leaving you. I'm Y/N." She said she wanted to get his mind off the pain, she knew introducing herself sounded dumb but she didn't want to be a stranger to him. She wasn't sure if he'd survive and she wanted him to die with a friend.

Eddie remembered her voice trialing in and out as he tried to stay awake. She talked about herself, her likes and dislikes. In a way, it was comforting for Eddie. He felt like he was meeting someone and getting to know them. He didn't feel like he was lying on the ground, seconds away from death. In a way, he felt alive.

"It was nice to meet you Y/N." He said, her smile faded as the blackness took over his vision.

~~~

Ever since then, he called her all the time. She was his angel. He truly felt like she saved him that night. Even though the events happened two months ago, she answered every time. She came over and talked to him throughout the day. They gained a friendship, and along the way, he felt a crush forming on her.

She always left at bedtime, believing all this time Eddie was getting the rest he needed. No idea he tossed and turned, his eyes afraid to close.

But too many restless nights showed. His face was pale, and his eyes were sunken in. Big purple bags underneath his red eyes.

"Eddie, have you been sleeping?" She asked, dropping her coat on the floor as she walked back over to him. She was prepared to leave, at the same time as always. But she couldn't help but feel like Eddie needed her.

"No." He said honestly, too exhausted to lie.

"Are you scared?" She asked. She wasn't teasing or mocking him. Her voice was soft and worried. She generally was asking and Eddie felt like a little kid with their mom. What a way to impress a girl he liked.

She could sense Eddie didn't want to answer. His embarrassed face and eyes faced down to his bed.

"Oh, sweetheart!" She cooed, she crawled into the bed, sitting up against his headboard. She patted her lap, and he silently followed her direction. He moved his body to rest against her, his head on her lap as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I can keep you company till you fall asleep," she said, Eddie was too tired to answer. He allowed his body to melt into his bed. His brain shut off as her hands rubbed his head. Her nails scratched through his curls in the most calming way he'd ever felt.

"Did you just call me sweetheart?” he mumbled, a tired yawn leaving his lips.

"Yes." She said, and she had no shame about it.

His stomach fluttered and a tiny smile stretched across his lips.

For once, he wasn't afraid to go to sleep.

The bright dinosaur nightlight shined throughout his room. He was surrounded by light and his angel.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

[lonewolfwriting89]

PRIMAL

Alpha!Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: His skin was scarred, mapping his dangerous past, displaying his masculine strength. A true Alpha. His hair, dirty blonde, was wild, stray strands dipping into his molten gaze.

Warnings – Language. Smut. NSFW. Alpha theme. Hints at Werewolf!Simon

A/N: A very late kinktober fic, hope you all enjoy 👻😈🐺 apologies for missing in action lately xoxo

————

Maybe it was the sunset.

Maybe it was the impending rain.

You didn’t know what it was, but there was something different. Something electric. The dying light bled down through the trees across the face of a man that you thought you knew. There was something in that filtered light of early evening that made him even more desirable. A way that urged you to act on those fantasies that you had kept hidden in your secret heart.

You could smell the coming rain on the wind as it drifted lazily through the maze of trees and brush, the smell of summer. Maybe spring was known as the time for lovers, but the summer had always done it for you. Hot and moist, at times; pungent. Like the light scent of his sweat that teased your nose.

Simon exerted a kind of benevolent control over you. He had since the day you had met him, standing against a tree and watching you walk along the worn path beside the creek that led through the deep, dark woods. You’d asked his name many times, but he would never tell you, and he never asked for yours. How many weeks had you been walking with your new friend? Three? Four? And yet you still didn’t know what to call him.

This day had been different from the start. For one thing, the way he was dressed. He was leaning against his tree, as always, but gone was the rugged flannel shirt and heavy boots. He stood there nonchalantly in nothing but his faded black jeans. His feet were bare against the floor of the forest and his broad, triangular shaped torso disappeared into the narrow band of his pants. For the first time you were being given the opportunity to take in the sight of the muscles that had teased your waking dreams for the last few weeks. You were tortured with wonder at the thoughts of what was under his tight shirts, the muscle apparent, but modestly covered.

You liked what you saw. He was well built, rippling muscle tense and solid. His skin was scarred, mapping his dangerous past, displaying his masculine strength. A true Alpha. His hair, dirty blonde, was wild, stray strands dipping into his molten gaze.

“Can I walk with you?”, he asked. He always asked the same question, never presuming. You smiled when you said yes. Could this handsome man really be so naïve as not to realise that the only reason you walked in the woods everyday was to see him?

Your hair was tucked deftly away from your face, underneath the hood of your red sweatshirt. The red of the shirt was the only splash of colour to stand out amid the lush greens and earthy browns of the woods. You wore cut off denim shorts and trainers below the red sweatshirt, enjoying the silk of air as it brushed your bare skin. The flapping tails of your white cotton blouse fluttered in the breeze where they hung from under the sweatshirt.

You both walked along the edge of the creek together for some time, watching as the sun began its descent in the western sky and the rain clouds began to gather darkly in a line to the east. The scent of copper came on the wind as the smell of the distant rain blew through the forest. The leaves turned their white undersides skyward with the updraft of the wind.

And that was when you came to the full realisation that you wanted this man. Right now. This quiet, unassuming man who walked and spoke with you for hours, never needing anything from you in return. That he didn’t seem to need you, made you want him more. Simon wasn’t aloof; he was just comfortable, confident. The smoothness of his walk and the grace with which he moved belied a sense of pure unselfconsciousness. The Man in the Woods was truly at home in his skin. At home in the forest.

Simon looked you in the eye and knew what was on your mind immediately. You looked away nervously, wondering how much truth he had seen in your face. You had nearly been lost in his frosted steel gaze. Lupine eyes.

“I want you—I’ve always wanted you”, he said matter-of-factly, “Will you have me?”.

“What?”, you asked, incredulously. You knew you heard him, but his words had stunned you momentarily.

“What did you say?”.

He stepped closer to you and you involuntarily backed away from him. When your back came into contact with the trunk of a large oak tree you abandoned your thoughts of flight. Where would you run anyway? Did you even want to run? The unexpected nature of his advance caught you off guard. It wasn’t how you were used to being approached by men. It wasn’t a corny line in a city bar. It was an honest, up front statement and a serious question, spoken with a purity of mind and an innocence that was out of place in such a lustful proposition.

“I said, I want you. Was that clearer for you?”.

You didn’t move, the stability of the huge tree at your back helped to hold you up on wobbling knees. You didn’t speak, your lips merely trembled.

He leaned against the tree, an arm on either side of your head, as he leaned slowly down, putting his face level with yours. His scent surrounded you, drowning you in an overwhelming lust. Simon whispered again, “Will you have me?”.

You lowered your glimmering eyes and reached your hands out, taking his hips and guiding him against your body.

You felt Simon’s muscled chest pressing against yours, forcing your shoulders back against the curve of the tree trunk, making your breasts stand out, high and proud. He took the zipper to your red sweatshirt and brought it down slowly, in one fluid motion, sweeping it from your shoulders. He stripped you of the sweatshirt and discarded it at your feet. Your nipples pebbled under your flimsy blouse, poking out under the white cotton.

His hand snaked up your body from thigh to breast, his fingers capturing your nipple, rolling it, pinching it. You mewled softly, turning your head and closing your eyes, taking in every sensation.

He leaned in and you tilted your head to receive his kiss, your mouth slightly open, lower lip still trembling. You felt the familiar hot, wet sensation in the juncture of your thighs, but rarely this heated or this soaked. Your pussy pulsed along with your pounding heart and you began to subtly thrust your hips forward, grinding your mound into the hard bulge in his pants.

Just short of completing the kiss, he stopped, extending his tongue slowly and softly, tracing it delicately along the edge of your lips. Feather soft and deliberate, his tongue stretched out and licked your full lips. Your tongue waited impatiently, desperately wanting to reach out and welcome Simon into your mouth, but you held back. The longing was exquisite torture and you were about to burst when he finally crushed your lips to his.

Too soon he broke the passionate kiss, pulling away from you with a quick, soft bite to your lower lip, tugging it gently with his sharp teeth. Had they always been that sharp? Your mind was hazy with pleasure. With one hand he pulled your hair, maybe a bit too roughly, but you had no complaint. With the other hand he began working the button and zipper of your denim shorts, expertly opening the front of your pants to his exploring fingers. Your soft cotton panties were pink and offered no resistance as his hand dove beneath the thin elastic waistband, to your boiling centre.

Simon’s thick fingers nudged and teased your engorged clit, stroking it softly. He nibbled at your neck, drawing your skin into his mouth and brushing it lightly with his tongue. The pressure of his teeth and the softness of his tongue combined to drive you over the edge.

Buttons be damned, you thought, ripping open your blouse, exposing your firm, peaked breasts. Your own hands found their way to his head, entwining fingers in his silken hair and urging his head down to your breasts. Simon happily complied, moving down and sucking one pert nipple into his mouth. As you moaned from the new sensation at your breast, he slipped a finger tentatively inside of you, eliciting an even stronger moan.

As with your lip, he bit softly on your nipple and tugged, slowly rolling his tongue over the puckered skin surrounding it. He pulled you away from the tree, just far enough to slip the white cotton blouse completely from your body, and then he pushed the bare skin of your back against the rough bark, as he moved to your other nipple. You squeezed and released handfuls of his hair, pressing his face to your chest, as he dropped the white blouse on top of the red sweatshirt. Fabric becoming damp from the dew on the floor.

A small cry escaped your lips when the long, thick finger in your pussy found just the spot. Taking that cue, he concentrated his ministrations in that area, and soon you were cumming, walls spasming around his digit. Your body went rigid against the tree, eyes squeezed tightly shut, as the small spasms coursed through you in slow, undulating waves. You pressed yourself greedily against his hand, wanting the waves to go on and on. The sensations at your breast and core were overpowering, your body shuddering, breath ragged.

The distant rain finally caught up to you both, coming down through the heavy forest canopy, making the woods around you sizzle with every little drop. The cold rain on your hot skin sent up little plumes of steam, and Simon let out a moan of pure ecstasy, low and drawn out, luxuriating in the feel of the water on his flesh. He turned his face up, letting the rain drip lazily onto his face, into his mouth. You cast your eyes down and watched the tiny rivulets making their way down his muscular chest and abdomen, through the little line of hair coming up from the waistband of his jeans and disappearing into them.

Brazenly, you allowed your tongue to follow their trails, dragging your tongue hungrily down Simon’s neck, biting and kissing as you went. Down over his chest, stopping to lick and suck his nipple. Biting and kissing down over his stomach, you soon found yourself on your knees in front of him, eyes fastened on the tautly stretched fabric of the denim over his crotch, the shape and size of his cock obvious as it pressed against his hip. You nibbled along his shaft through the jeans, up to the head and back down, pressing soft kisses against the bulge.

Simon felt he was going to explode when you dragged your teeth firmly along the same path that you had just nibbled, your hands coming up and massaging his heavy balls. He groaned gruffly, fists clenched at his sides, fighting for control.

The button was hard to open, due to the tightness of his pants, but you managed and your fingers took the clasp of his zipper, pulling down slowly, one agonising tooth at a time. When you finally had lowered the zipper enough to allow, his cock sprung out, achingly hard and visibly pulsing. With every beat of his heart it leapt slightly. The head was a dark purple and the shaft had one large vein running across the top. It disappeared into the patch of wiry hair at the base of his abdomen.

A glistening drop of clear liquid formed in the slit at its crown and you darted your tongue out, touching it briefly to the tip of his cockhead. The little drop held to your tongue in a long, thick string before breaking and dropping onto your bottom lip and chin.

Wrapping your hand around his cock, you gripped it firmly, giving a little squeeze and watching with delight as more of the clear liquid oozed out. Simon groaned again, reaching out and placing his hands gently against the sides of your head, urging you forward, pleading wordlessly. You looked up and met his gaze, staring down at you with pure black eyes, hungry and needful, almost violent in their gleam. His lips were parted and he breathed slowly and heavily through his mouth, his chest heaving.

One long shiver coursed through his entire body when you finally bent your head and took him into your mouth. Your eyes had been just as hungry as his and you devoured him ravenously, sliding your lips up and down his hard length, feeling every ridge and sinewy knot beneath the skin. You let your saliva pool on your tongue and spread it liberally over his shaft, slipping your mouth down until your nose was pressed into his hair, and then pulling back slowly with a long sucking motion, before diving right back down. You took him into your throat and coaxed him with the muscular contractions you could produce, summoning the load from him. You pulled back once more and heard him grunt and then groan again, feeling his cock swell further in your mouth.

“Not yet”, he breathed, desperately pulling his throbbing hardness from your mouth. He was going to explode if you didn’t stop and he had very precise intentions for his seed. It was not to be wasted.

A few more loving licks along his cock was all you had time for before he grabbed your shoulders and brought your to your feet. Once again, he pressed your back against the oak tree harshly.

Simon slid down your body onto his knees, his tongue delving quickly into your naval, and then dipping down to the edge of your pink panties. As he nuzzled your sex through your shorts, he slipped off your shoes and socks, his big, calloused hands slipped leisurely up your legs. From your ankles to your knees he teased your skin with his fingertips, a slight tickling across the backs of your knees. His hands reached up behind you, grabbing your ass and pressing your body to his face. Simon grabbed the loosened waistband of your denim shorts, brought them down smoothly and you stepped out of them, arching your back against the tree for stability. Just as quickly he brought his hands back up and grabbed the elastic band of your panties and brought them down, baring your completely to his eyes.

Ravenous.

Leaning his head forward, he placed a firm lip kiss above your cleft, inhaling your scent deeply as he pulled away. Driven by your smell, he lunged at you, biting into your hip, the last vestiges of his self-control being all that stood between pleasure and pain. A surprised gasp, followed by a soft moan, answered his bite.

The rain began to come down heavier, the canopy of the forest barely slowing the drops. A cool wind picked up, twisting through the trees like a sentient being, seeking and finding the two lovers. You both shivered, but only partly from the chill.

Simon picked up your right leg and placed it over his shoulder, spreading your for his kiss. His tongue moved out slowly, finding your clit, engorged and reddened. Pulsing with animalistic desire. You raised your head and cried out, one arm bent back along the trunk of the tree, the other holding his head. You involuntarily ground your pussy onto his face, hard against his mouth. Your left leg nearly buckled when he curled his tongue around your clit and gently sucked it into his mouth, coaxing your orgasm in much the same way you had attempted to bring his. He sucked at you softly, yet voraciously. He was a man starving for you, trying to engulf you entirely into himself. A deep, resounding growl rose from his throat, the air vibrating from his lips and sending you once again over that edge.

You let out a small scream just as a distant clap of thunder began to rumble over the forest. You rode the waves of the thunder as it faded away. You cried again, another orgasm ripping through you, pulling your entire being to your centre. To his mouth.

The tree bark was rough on your back, possibly cutting your flesh, but you were beyond caring. You leaned forward, pressing harder to his lips, and then slamming yourself back against the tree in pure wantonness, over and over. There was no pain. Only blinding pleasure.

You didn’t realise it when he brought your leg from his shoulder and back to the ground, so lost in ecstasy. Your body trembled still, the remnants of the climax still rippling outward from your core, as you sagged against the oak, eyes closed. Every nerve in your body refocused its intention to carrying on the devastating feelings coursing through it.

The ripples were coming slower as the thunderstorm grew ever closer. You tried to sink into the tree, to feel everything at once. You felt the cool rain dripping on your skin, a trailing drop running to, and then going around your nipple. You curled your toes into the wet, mossy ground. The soft murmur of the rain on the leaves sang to you.

A loud, obnoxious clap of thunder brought you out of your reverie and your eyes snapped open. You gasped, startled, as you realised that you were face to face with Simon again. He was gazing at you with a predatory gleam in his icy eyes.

In one move he was against your body and inside you, sliding up into you as you stood against the tree. With his hands on your hips Simon raised your body and lowered you onto his cock, thrusting himself madly into you, too insistent to care about anything else.

You turned your cheek against the tree, exposing your neck, and he could no longer hold back. A bestial groan escaped his lips, followed by a snarl through clenched teeth. Every muscle in his body was wire taut, the force of his thrusts lifting you from your feet, suspended between the tree and Simon. You planted your feet firmly on top of his thighs and rode him, taking each pounding stroke as deep as gravity and flesh would allow.

His eyes remained focused on the smooth curve of your neck, the delicate slope to your shoulder. The need began to slip from the corners of his mouth as he saw and heard your pulse. Simon couldn’t take it. He lunged forward and bit you, hard. Too hard. You cried out, but you never broke your stride. He tasted a small bit of your blood on his tongue and it drove him to the point of rage.

Lightning split the sky just above, with an instantaneous crack of thunder. Not far away from you both, a tree fell, burnt and smouldering. The rain was pounding down on you. The wind drove it down and into the forest, hard against your rutting bodies.

You screamed with another orgasm and he howled with rage, pain and lust as he emptied himself inside of you. Thunder and lightning crashed above you, pale in comparison to the rapacious nature of the beast coursing through both of you. Simon looked into your eyes and saw the lightning flash. You looked into his and saw the truth of what he was. Half man, half beast.

You rode out the storm and the passion, moving slowly, kissing and touching. Caressing. You brought your feet back to the ground, pumping your hips slowly, letting him go soft inside of you as the storm blew away, almost as quickly as it came.

At last, he slipped from your core and he stepped away from you. You said nothing. The rain dripping from the forest canopy, the receding thunder, and your breathing were the only sounds. With his hand he softly stroked your cheek, gazing intently into your eyes. Then he turned and walked away, naked, into the heart of the forest.

You watched him go, wondering if you would ever see him again. Touching your hand to the bleeding bite at the bend of your neck, you winced absently. The pain was negligible, but it would surely leave a scar. A scar that would undoubtedly tie you to him.

The thunder rolled on and a wolf howled in the distance, answered by the howls of many others. Through the canopy of trees you could see the moon trying to peek out from behind the lingering storm clouds.

Only now, it seemed to call to you.

————

[readychilledwine]

Bound by Fate Pt 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Summary - When Kaylee Archeron meets Azriel, her world turns upside down. Between balancing her trauma, new powers, a mating bond, and war looming over her new home, Kaylee learns every thing is not as little as it once seemed.

Warnings - jealousy, poor communication

A/N - it's @azrielappreciationweek free day and ✨️double post day✨️

No one spoke at breakfast. The tension in the air between Rhysand and Azriel was at a breaking point. The two had been heard arguing with each other early in the morning while Cassian stood there and tried to play middle ground.

Kaylee poked the eggs in front of her. Glancing up at Amren every so often as the ancient female studied her as if she was an old textbook written in some unknown tongue. Her gaze flicked to Cassian, and the general smiled softly at her before pushing fruits her way and taking the eggs. "Did my mate give you permission to take her food or were you just feeling entitled to it?"

Kaylee sighed. "I don't like eggs, Az. He's been eating my eggs for a few weeks now." She felt his discomfort down the bond. Another thing his brothers got to learn while he was being forced to play the part of her sisters' keeper.

He was angry. Beyond angry. He was being forced to make a sacrifice and guard Elain and Nesta while his own mate was burying her pain and feelings so deep within herself he thought she'd explode.

Silence fell back over the table, leaving the door open for that heavy tension to set in again. Kaylee felt a pressure in her mind, as if something that shouldn't be there was forcing it's way to her. Rhys shifted uncomfortably. "Kaylee. Stop."

"I'm not doing it on purpose."

"I know," he sighed. "Just think of your powers like a faucet and turn the faucet off."

Kaylee tried. But something kept reaching for her, calling to her like a siren spell, and her magic locked in on it. Cassian froze at the sight of her, eyes glowing white as she began to almost radiate, at the same time, Azriel froze, eyes going almost black as his head tilted to the side. "Uh, Rhys?"

Amren paused her drink, looking between the two mates before chuckling. "Well, that solves that mystery. Azriel has a beast form."

Rhys was in Kaylee's mind, searching for a way to pull her from accidentally bonding to a centuries old creature his own brother had not even had touch with, but that bond, that damned and blessed mating bond, blocked him. Rhys closed his eyes, knowing there was only one other option to stop them from completing the connection. "Azriel, I am commanding you as your High Lord to leave for the House of Wind at once."

Kaylee fell unconscious as the connection severed, Azriel immediately holding his mate's face as her nose bled. "What the fuck just happened?!"

Rhys stood, moving between Azriel and Kaylee. "She found your beast form. It would appear after a millenia without a tamer, every form of beast is anxious to have a fae who speaks for them and their well-being." Rhys took a napkin, gingerly cleaning Kaylee's nose before motioning for Cassian to take her.

"Until she has control, Azriel. It's best if you stay in the House of Wind. Amren and I can push her out. You-"

"I will not be banned from seeing my mate," the growl he released had shadows clashing against starlit darkness, siphons beginning to glow as their wearer's mind and magic prepared for battle.

Rhysand rose a brow, "So you will risk all of us and her? If she makes you shift for the first time and your beast kills her, what will you do, Azriel?"

Azriel growled again as Cassian protectively held Kaylee away from him and backed up. "Give me my mate, Cassian."

Amren came between the two then, silver eyes a flame. "Touch her and you toy at the risk of sealing that connection, boy. Listen to Rhysand and think of her. Not yourself."

It was a stab in Azriel's stomach, his brows knitting together as he backed away from them in anger. "She's all I think of," he said firmly but quietly. "She needs me just as much as Nesta and Elain seem to think they do." He disappeared then, swallowed whole by shadows and gone from the Riverhouse.

Kaylee woke up alone and afraid, tugging the bond the way Azriel told her to whenever she needed him. She was met with silence. No soft tugs back, no wave of comfort. She stood on shaking legs, trying to remember what happened as she drank the water the house provided.

She remembered Rhysand's beast trying to speak with her. A great powerful thing with large wings and talons. She remembered telling him Rhys wanted her to get out and the creature's great huff of annoyance like he was no more than a frustrated cat wishing to has his way.

Then she was trapped by something else, and it wanted much more from her. Another winged beast, dripping darkness like ichor. It had not let her see it, just its imposing figure as it pinned her below it and stared down at her.

Her eyes grew wide when she remembered what it growled. Mate. She tugged the bond again desperately, praying to every fae God he would answer. It was a cold knife to her heart when he left her in silence.

Rhys stood and watched as the stag nudged Kaylee, then rested his large head on her shoulder as if he was hugging her. She wasn't okay. He could feel her turmoil tearing her mind and heart apart. They had been training for hours now, her practicing warging into the beast, their communication, their emotional link. Rhys now knew of several areas of the forest that had been plagued by evil. He knew of areas where food and resources were lacking. He knew what he could do to restore those areas and had begun drafting out plans.

He walked to the stag and Kaylee, scratching the stag behind his ear and then placing a hand gently on Kaylee's back. "Are we content with today?" The stag seemed to nod and gently pushed Kaylee into Rhysand's waiting arms. "Let's go get some food for you, little one."

Cassian greeted them, nodding as he stirred stuff into the soup he was making. "How was our antlered friend?" Kaylee shrugged, her eyes still looking wide and lost. She went upstairs, leaving Rhys and Cassian alone in the kitchen. "She needs him. We either take her up there or bring them here, Rhys."

Rhys rose a brow. "She needs the woods."

Cassian didn't argue, tightening his lips into a line. "We're going to lose Azriel if you aren't careful, Rhysand. You know this is all he's ever wanted."

Rhysand sighed taking the seat across from Cassian. "Do you remember when I accidently shifted for the first time? The damage and hurt I caused." Cassian closed his eyes, nodding at the painful reminder. "I've had centuries to be one with my beast. Azriel didn't even know he had one. If he shifts and hurts her in anyway, we will lose him for not protecting her. We are damned if we do, damned if we don't."

2 weeks.

Kaylee had not seen Azriel in two weeks. And now he stood in the living room, a redheaded male in hand and Feyre in Rhysand's arms. The two couldn't stop staring at each other. Eyes locked in need, love, and desperation.

Cassian cleared his throat at the scent of the bond between Azriel and Kaylee and Rhysand and Feyre. He shot the new male, one Kaylee was blocking from her memory, a sympathetic look before motioning for him to follow outside, and Azriel doing the same to Kaylee. "Kaylee, Lucien," Cassian said once they were outside. "Lucien, Kaylee."

"You were there," she whispered. "You were with Tamlin."

He nodded. His beautiful face changed. "We didn't know. I promise on my life we did not know."

"I believe you." They all paused as a shift in the trees came. A large hawk came and landed on Lucien's shoulder, head cocked before flying to Kaylee and resting in her arms.

Lucien stared between the two, then looked to Cassian and Azriel. The wild life around this house was extensive. Thriving. The woods themselves sang songs of joy and healing. He studied the littlest sister, seeing her magic giving and taking. "Dangerous powers. Nature is a cruel lover. She tends to take and take and you do not see the give back right away." Lucien came close to her, stroking the hawk on his feathered head. "The last female with your powers was drained so much by the lands and wildlife, she ran into the woods of Autumn one night never to be seen again. There's children's stories and campfire legends about her."

Azriel growled, causing Lucien to shoot him a look. "Has she bonded to Rhysand's beast yet? Typically the tamers and their High Lord's beasts are quite close."

Cassian shook his head. "We're going to the House of Wind," it was firm, ending the conversation regarding Kaylee's progress before it could start. "Az, you got Kay?"

The shadowsinger nodded, pulling Kaylee close to him and smiling slightly as she giggled and the hawk flew away. They were in the air in seconds, her nuzzled into Azriel's neck, taking in his scent and covering him in hers like a kitten.

Cassian shot a look to Lucien. "Do not bring up Rhysand and Kaylee's bond in front of Azriel again. Please. I would prefer not to have to clean up another fight between them."

"It's not a romantic bond or sexual?"

Cassian nodded, agreeing and thankful the new connection Rhysand had allowed Kaylee to make was solely business. "But we all know how… Animalistic and protective males are of their mates. Azriel believes what they have is beyond sacred. Kaylee potentially losing herself to-" Cassian rolled his eyes with a smirk as the first noises came from the house and picked Lucien up. "There have been signs already, Lucien. Hopefully having someone from the Court Tamers typically are born into will help."

The dinner was silent. Rhys and Feyre sitting at the heads of the table, Lucien across from Kaylee, freshly bathed and in impeccable clothing. Azriel to her right, Amren to her left. And Mor and Cassian on both sides of Lucien.

Kaylee had begged for Nesta and Elain to come down, pleading with every fiber of her being for just a second of their time. Just a singular moment to see them. To be held by them. She was met with silence. That silence turned to rage inside of her. She had destroyed her guest room. Screaming as the furniture replaced itself and began to redo the process until Lucien had came to her.

Not her mate.

Not her sisters.

Not even Cassian.

Lucien.

He held her, whispering words of comfort, telling her she was safe. She had not noticed her own hands shifting, but Lucien had, he watched as the tanned skin turned back from the soft blue it was shifting to. As her nails became normal instead of daggers.

Lucien held her until those moments of shaking rage became what they truly were, trembles of sadness.

Sadness from her mate immediately leaving her at the House to go sit with Elain. Sadness from her older sisters ignoring her. Sadness from the sheer agonizing feeling of abandonment setting into her soul and bones.

He held her until that trembling stopped. And then he held her again as he took in those tear stained cheeks and watering ocean eyes.

Lucien understood Kaylee to his core. The youngest sibling left to their own devices and knowledge in a world they hardly understood. He understood that anger, that sadness, that longing to belong.

He saw Kaylee.

He saw her for more than her power, for more than just Feyre's sister. He saw her for her. He saw her brokeness from mistreatment, her exhaustion from being forced to train from breakfast to nightfall.

And he didn't understand how Azriel didn't. The male cared for his mate, that was clear as he filled her plate with more food, kissed her temple, ensured her drink was never empty. But how he did not sense Kaylee's humanity slipping away already was concerning. Lucien leaned back, studying her as Rhysand studied him.

"Something interesting to you, Lucien?"

He shook his head, eyes still on Kaylee as she looked up, small signs from her breakdown still there. "No," he stated calmly. "Just admiring her. She's not something you see everyday."

Rhys nodded in agreement, pride leaking into his voice as he looked at the youngest Archeron sister. His favorite new project. "No. No, she is not." He allowed his beast to touch Kaylee. Stroking that bond between them gently in praise.

Kaylee gave a slight smile, her cheeks flushing slightly at the complement and at Rhysand's otherside almost purring at contact with her.

And, unseen to everyone but Lucien, Azriel began to seethe.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @luvmoo @wallacewillow0773638 @nightless

@cat-or-kitten @knmendiola @holb32

@mis-lil-red @minakay @whatsupb18 @deeshag @justdreamstars @pyrostatic @acourtofmarvels @no1massassin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling

[yandere-romanticaa]

It's a crime just how there's no content for this series, especially because the men in this show are just out of this world. Lucky you, I have thing for the Lord of Crime.

Hell is empty and all the devils are here - that is what William liked to tell you from time to time.

Afternoon tea with William James Moriarty and on occasion his brothers as well, was always lighthearted and enjoyable. Their home was always warm and welcoming, their smiles contagious as the sun and the food they would fill your belly with was always out of this world delicious. Playing games with William became one of your favorite hobbies ever since moving to this neighborhood the Moriarty family took an odd liking to you, William in particular. He would tease you until your ears would burn from embarrassment, his red eyes gleaming with mischief as he would sit across you, a knowing little smirk on his face. He was a bit of a bully like that but it was all in harmless fun at the end of the day. William would never take it far, he detested seeing you in a sour mood. Sometimes if he felt like it, even his elder brother Albert would join in on the fun as Louis calmly watched the commotion in the background, his stance seemingly neutral.

Yes, the Moriarty brothers were a charming little bunch. You loved being with them, you loved being with William. You couldn't deny the way in which his mere presence made your heart flutter. He was handsome, so incredibly handsome. And his unmatched wit only make him more lovable, how could you not fall for him? On the surface he really was the perfect man of anyone's dreams. One simple glance from him took your breath away, as if he somehow managed to crush your lungs with some otherworldly ability unknown to you. William James Moriarty really was the perfect man.

Which is why it became harder to ignore some of the things which disturbed you in the dark of the night.

Suspicious men would linger around the estate, like wild beasts out on a prowl. You managed to identify them as the Moriarty house staff and there was a question which would linger in your mind for ages - what in the devil were they up to in the middle of the night?

They could not be this active by their own choice, someone most definitely ordered them to make haste with whatever mysterious task they were up to. The men clearly knew what they were doing as they would always move with precision and determination, their weapons always hidden well despite being safely covered by the inky black darkness.

You lost sleep over this, monitoring them quickly bled into your evening activities. The Moriarty brothers were hardly ever spotted, it was mostly just the staff. At first you figured that you were nothing more than paranoid and was just looking for an excuse to oogle at William, which wasn't necessarily untrue either. To any random person passing by the men were doing house chores and obeying their bosses. They were good and hardworking men, you had no right to judge them for something that they clearly were not at fault for.

Things took a sharp turn once one of the men came back to the Moriarty estate with a few splatters of blood on his fine white shirt. It was carefully concealed in order to avoid suspicion and yet you still saw it.

Someone out there was dead or dying and you knew who was responsible.

There was no turning back now.

And William, ever the charmer, kept luring you in. The more you observed him the more you came to pick up on his ticks and came to the realization that he was not the simple but perfect gentleman who had so carefully crafted his image. He was like a venus flytrap and you the dumb little fly, it was inevitable that he was going to catch you one way or the other.

He found it amusing how you watched over everyone like a hawk. It could not be more obvious but he still silently praised you for your efforts. It was good to remain vigilant, especially in a cruel world like the one you both lived in. Evil and wicked men roamed on the streets freely, who knew just when one was going to snatch you up.

In your eyes, maybe he was one of those men too. Regardless, he was planning on enjoying this silent game of cat and mouse he had set up. And you never failed in taking on the bait, each and every time.

[light-yaers]

tangerine. | part one [carmen berzatto x reader]

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Carmen shows up at your diner after five years, and everything comes flooding back like it was only yesterday.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mature themes [discussions about drugs, workplace abuse, family problems]

Word count: 5.2k

PART ONE

“What is the point of this entire trip if you’re not going to tell me the restaurants in advance?” Sydney whittled off, trying to keep up with the storming legs of her partner. “Carmen, are you even listening to me, right now?”

“Of course, I’m listening,” he said, peering back at her as his legs kept up their pace. 

He slalomed through people on the sidewalk of 8th Street and St. Marks Place, with Syd close on his tail. She didn’t know these streets like he did. His prior positions in the city were prestigious, ranging from sous chef roles all over the damn city, before he finally made chef de cuisine at Union Square Cafe. As the time had passed, understanding came with it, but she still wouldn’t ever wrap her head around him leaving NY for The Beef. 

She knew Michael meant a lot to him, to the family, but dropping it all for a sandwich shop in Chicago would always be something she’d secretly question. Syd tried not to think about it too much; the fear of him leaving, or bailing, and the like; because at the end of the day she’d bled herself dry for this.

A restaurant. A place. Somewhere her dad used to love, and would love after the renovation. The Beef was gone, it was true, but in its place would be The Bear. The product of all of Carmen’s and her hard work. 

Syd sped up to a jog, until she finally wrapped her fingers around Carmen’s forearm. She tugged him back, and used it as an opportunity to catch her breath. “You’re not listening. I don’t even know where we’re fucking going, Carm.”

He gently tugged his arm from her grasp. “This is a last minute addition,” he said, before he placed his hands on his hips. “I just wanted to get it over with. Sorry for rushing.”

Sydney nodded at him, listening. “Okay. So, let me in, dude. Tell me about this place so I’m less confused, and you’re less… whatever the fuck this is,” she said, gesturing to his erratic behaviour. 

Carmen shuffled on the sidewalk, peering around at shop fronts, and the abundance of restaurants that lined up outside Tompkins Square Park. This was an area he knew like the back of his hand, but one he hadn’t visited since long before he’d left New York. 

“The first place I ever worked in the city. It’s not fine dining, or Michelin starred, or any of that shit,” he started, and despite the abrupt way Syd’s eyes widened from annoyance, she still let him continue. “The vibe of it, though,” he said, and chuckled the words out of his mouth in surprise. “Just, come on.” He gently placed a hand on Syd’s shoulder, leading her forward so they were on the same page. 

From the outside, Lucky Strike Diner didn’t look like anything special. It was a small unit, placed betwixt two taller apartment buildings, to the North of Tompkins Square Park. Syd looked up at it, grimacing slightly, but she tried to keep an open mind. She’d been around her fair share back alley barbeques and hidden gems to know you should never judge a book by its cover. 

When she glanced over to Carmen, he looked practically childlike. There was a glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since they’d first decided to bin off The Beef and bring in The Bear That wonder, that craving for something new, and excitement of something unknown. Nostalgia danced over every feature of his face, and she watched as he sucked in a sharp breath, before entering the diner. 

Inside, the decor was minimalist, but homely. Black and white photos lined the walls, pictures of families, of friends, of celebrations. Cream and red colours graced the walls, and the booths looked comforting and inviting. Despite the drab appearance outside, inside was bustling. Practically every table was full, and the old style bar was inviting. Through the kitchen window, sparks and fire shot up whenever something burned, or flambed, on the grill. 

This vibe, the one Carmen had mentioned; Sydney felt it all immediately. That warmth, like you were stepping into a family function instead of something elitist. Businessmen sat with their laptops, next to mothers with their babies, and grandfathers on their own. This was a place for everyone, and that was clear to see. 

As servers scattered over the busy restaurant floor, one of them stuck out to Sydney. You scuttled, slaloming through tables with ease, as you made your way to the host stand by the door. 

Saturday rushes were always hardcore, but you’d grown accustomed to them. You grabbed two menus before you even looked the two new customers in the eye, and let out a simple “Welcome to Lucky Strike Diner, table for two–?”

You stopped when your brain finally computed his face; a face you hadn’t seen in a long time. Carmen Berzatto was standing in your fucking restaurant. “Carmy.” His name slipped out easily, and along with it came a sickly feeling in your gut. 

He cleared his throat. “Table for two, yes. Please.”

You glanced at the second member of his party, quickly, and shot her a smile. You didn’t particularly have anything to smile about, but it wasn’t her fault that she’d just been planted into the middle of this inevitable shitstorm. That smile disappeared instantly, as soon as you looked back at Carmen.

“Great,” you said plainly. Even disappearing assholes like Carmen wouldn’t stop you from being professional and civil at work. You loved this place too much, had been here too long, to do that. “This way, please.” 

You steamed forward as you picked out a table in the corner, furthest away from the host stand. You didn’t want him in the middle of the room, where he could easily find you in the crowd of servers. Why he was here and what he was doing didn’t cross your mind until you seated them, dropping the menus down on their respective settings. 

Carmen scooted his chair in, and peered up at you. “It’s been a long time–”

“So, have you guys ever been here before?” you cut over him, and mostly looked at his partner. She shot you a clearly awkward smile, but nevertheless shook her head politely. Carmen stayed silent, and bit upon his tongue. “Okay, so I’ll lay down the lingo for you,” you said, as you quickly went through the menu with her. “You need anything, just wave one of us down and we’ll be happy to help, all good?” 

“Yeah, thank you,” Sydney said with a smile, before she looked over at Carmen. That smile quickly turned to a small frown. 

“Fantastic,” you said. “Can I get you guys some drinks to start?”

“Um, I’ll take the lemonade, thanks,” Sydney ordered, as she attempted to hold this entire interaction together by the skin of her teeth. 

“Great choice, it was made fresh this morning like always.” You turned to Carmen. “And for you, sir?” 

A vein had popped out on Carmen’s forehead very noticeably. It was one that Sydney knew well, when he was either under insane amounts of stress in the kitchen, or fighting against the urge to yell. Maybe both meant the same thing, but still– she could see from a mile off that this was not the way he’d wanted this reunion to go. 

“Surprise me,” he said, as he looked up and caught your eye. 

You clenched your jaw. “I’m no good at surprises, so I’ll just bring you some tap water until you decide,” you said, trying and failing to keep things light. “I’ll be back with those drinks in just a few minutes.” You went to leave quickly. 

“Hey, just–” Carmen reached out for you as fast as he could, but as his fingers grazed your wrist, you managed to snap your arm away from him just in time. He gave up when disappeared through the doors to the back, and dropped himself back into his chair. 

Sydney leant forward immediately. “Okay, dude. What the fuck was that?”

“It’s nothing,” Carmen said bluntly. 

Sydney started laughing breathily. “Yeah, sure, that was nothing. Don’t test me, Carm.”

“I– fuck,” he spluttered. “Just pick your fucking food, please.”

Sydney was a pro at telling Carmen to calm the fuck down, but this interaction had her stumped for a solution. “What do you recommend?” she said, switching her tune.

Carmen met her eye in some kind of silent apology. “Uhh, the eggs. The eggs are fantastic. And the french toast, that’s the restaurant’s best.” As the subject changed, Carmen delved into the menu alongside Syd. They talked about their menu ideas, and paralleled them with the dishes they saw here. 

Maybe bringing a diner styled meal to a (soon to be) Michelin menu wasn’t so much of a bad idea. It fit the theme. The homeliness, paired with the decadence of the chaos menu they’d been discussing priorly. 

In the back, you quickly punched in their drink order, before you slalomed through the kitchen. “Behind!” you yelled, as you made your way through each station. The chefs all shot you concerned looks, as it became apparent where you were heading. 

“Is today really a walk-in day?” One of them, Paulie, said as you raced by. He’d known you for years now, and knew when something was fucking wrong. 

“Yep!” you exclaimed back at him, tugging open the handle of the walk-in swiftly.

“What the fuck happened?” he boomed, but you slammed the door shut before you could muster up a reply. 

Inside, you breathed alongside the ingredients. The vegetables, the homemade sauces, the fresh smoked salmon. It was cold, but not too cold that you couldn’t stand it. The cool air made everything feel calm, like you had somehow been transported to some Icelandic lake in the summertime. The air was crisp, and noise was muffled through the door, like the solace you felt by locking yourself in the upstairs bathroom at a house party. 

Carmen Berzatto showing up out of the blue had been something you’d long stopped indulging in. He’d made himself clear, the last time you’d seen him, that he had no intention of continuing the working relationship or friendship you’d once had. It was only then that you realised how fast the time had gone. 

You were twenty when you met him, the same age as each other. Both of you tried to navigate life together as you stumbled and fell, and got yourselves up again. You were on par with each other, both in intelligence and maturity. Paulie had liked Carm as soon as he’d walked through the door for his interview, and pretty soon after being hired, he’d turned Lucky Strike around like it was no skin off his back.

He was a refreshing change for the life you’d found yourself in. He’d made this place great, and you’d taught each other some life lessons. You’d always known he was destined for more, and you’d always been the first person to sing his praises. 

Before his abrupt switch in personality, you’d thought fondly of your time here together. The same old grind of opening up the diner together in the morning. While he prepped for service in the kitchen, you did so on the restaurant floor. It was a collaborative effort, and without both of you together at that point in time, the diner would have gone under. That’s what made it sting even more, when you thought of your life now– you wouldn’t be in this position if he hadn’t come along. It was like rubbing extra salt in your already open wound. 

You sucked in a deep, cold breath, and let it out slowly. The cold invigorated your lungs, and gave you the strength to continue with your day. Lunch service was on the brink of its lull, anyway, but having him there, sat outside, with his fucking face that he used to look at you so fondly with, you could hardly stand it. 

A gentle knock sounded from the walk-in door, and you quickly wiped a few spots of sweat from your forehead. “Yeah!” you yelled. 

“Come on out, sweetheart,” Paulie urged you, and you hadn’t been able to refuse him for the time you’d been working at the diner– so that wasn’t going to start now. 

You pushed open the door and sealed it shut behind you, before you allowed yourself to peer up at him. He was a burly guy, but soft around the edges. You had no idea if he was in his forties or sixties, since he had one of those faces that were sort of stuck in time. He spoke like a character straight out of Taxi Driver. 

“What the hell happened, huh?” he asked gently, patting you on your shoulders sturdily. 

You sighed. “Carmen. He’s in the restaurant,” you said. 

“Carmy’s here?” Paulie exclaimed, as he frantically looked around the kitchen. “Guys, Carmy’s here!” he yelled. A few of the chefs, who’d been employed here for time, started muttering loudly. 

Paulie’s joy only made you feel worse, but you didn’t hold it against him. Carm had been a staple here all those years before, and had taught a lot of the guys all that they knew about their role. Literally. “Table twenty,” you said. “Knock yourselves out.”

Service stopped momentarily as Paulie and two other chefs made their way out to the restaurant. You stayed back, and peered through the kitchen window. Beyond the bar, you saw Paulie exclaim as Carmen stood up and shook his hand. They hugged like bears, and he introduced Sydney to them all. 

Paulie’s voice was one that carried, so it was impossible not to hear every note of their conversation from where you were. “We’ll whip you up your old favourites. You still like salmon?” Paulie went on, and Carmen nodded and smiled in appreciation the entire time. 

You composed yourself as best as you could, before you left the kitchen. You grabbed their drinks, already prepared, on the bar, and gently shoved yourself through to their table. 

“Aye, aye, aye– we have hungry people waiting, Paulie!” you said, allowing yourself to don a small smile as you gently set down their drinks. “Come on now, back to work, chefs!” 

Paulie squeezed Carmen’s shoulder, before he gestured to you. “She’s practically the boss around here now, Carmy. The big boss,” he said. Carmen gently met your eye, but you looked away as fast as you could. 

“Alright, alright. Big boss says three orders of french toast on the fly, chef,” you said, grinning as Paulie held up his hands defensively. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, as he started treading back towards the kitchen. “Good to see you, Carmy!” he boomed. 

“You too, Paulie,” Carmen said, before he awkwardly sat back down and tucked himself in. 

You caught your breath again, as you cleared your throat. “So, it seems our chef has already picked your order for you. Can I get you guys anything else that he didn’t mention?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sydney said, pointing to the menu. “What is this exactly?”

You read the words just above her fingertip, and your gut dropped. Tangerine salade. You were torn between wanting to laugh maniacally, or leave and never return to the diner. Carmen’s eyes widened in realisation at Sydney’s request. 

“Oh, it’s–”

“It’s–”

You and Carmen stopped talking when you heard the other start. You’d both gone to explain the dish– if it could even be called a dish. You held your breath abruptly and took a small step back. Part of you wondered if he remembered the entire meaning, but you weren’t about to explain it all in great detail. Not when it didn’t feel as special anymore. 

“I’m sorry, you tell us. Please.” Carmen shut his mouth and sat back, as if he was on best behaviour. 

“It’s exactly what it says,” you said. “Tangerine salad. Two fresh tangerines, cut into slices like big oranges, instead of peeled and segmented.”

Sydney smiled, amused. “Where did that come from?” 

It came from Carmen. You had a habit of stealing fruit from the walk-in, when you realised you hadn’t eaten on a shift. Tangerines were always ordered, but hardly ever used, so there was always an abundance of them, destined to rot. 

Carmen caught you everytime, eating them like orange slices, just so they were quicker and easier to scoff down during a rush. The juice didn’t get on your hands as much, and you enjoyed the vibrant colour they produced over the white pith that covered their segments when peeled. Carmen had taken it upon himself to add a new item during a menu refresh in the early days. Tangerine salade was born, and neither you, nor Paulie, had ever thought to get rid of it. Even after all this time.

“Why did you call it that?” you asked Carmen, gobsmacked to see it on the menu for the first time, all those years before.

“Salad didn’t sound as good as salade,” he explained. 

“You chefs and your obsession with French words, huh?” you joked, as you rounded his station and dropped the menu down upon the pristine surface. “This is sweet, Carmy. Sweet, but unnecessary.”

“Not true,” he countered, bashing his shoulder into yours playfully. “Now that it’s on the menu, it’s got a button on the system. Whenever you need a tangerine just punch it through, and we’ll have two of ‘em, waiting for you when you get a moment to fucking breathe.” 

You felt Carmen’s stare on you at Sydney’s question, and forced yourself to suck in a breath and come back to reality. “Tangerine salad is our version of McDonalds apple slice bags. For the kids,” you lied, but nevertheless kept a smile stamped on your face. Carmen looked positively pale at your response. “They’re good fucking tangerines, though,” you added, and Sydney chuckled in surprise. 

“Okay, I need to try these tangerines,” she said. 

“One order of tangerine salade, on top of all the rest, sure.” You made a quick note on your order slip, even though you didn’t need to. It was just a way to avoid Carmen’s stare even further. 

For the rest of the lunch rush, you pretended like he wasn’t there. You did the rounds, topping up cups of coffee, and rushing fresh dishes and dirty plates to and from the kitchen. You stayed on top of admin when you got a spare moment at the host stand, and scrolled through invoices from suppliers. 

Without meaning to, you’d stayed at Lucky Strike Diner for seven years. It was life for you now. You lived a few blocks away, through the park, but having an apartment felt like a waste when you practically lived in the restaurant. 

You and Carmen had talked about so much, when you’d both been confined to these walls. What lay beyond for both of you. His dream to cook in top restaurants, and eventually build his own restaurant from the ground up. You didn’t really have any dreams, just the security and stability of a good life, and good people around you, but you indulged whenever he mentioned his own place. 

“Well, if you ever need a front of house manager, you know where to find me,” you joked, as you wiped down the bar at the end of the day. Carmen poked his head through the kitchen window. 

“Why don’t we do it, then?” he asked abruptly. You stopped wiping the surfaces, and turned around to face him. “Open our own restaurant.”

“Oh, man, I don’t know. Money, taxes, insurance, money,” you listed off, and he tossed a wet cloth at your face. You dodged it, and watched it crash onto one of the restaurant tables. “Hey!” You turned back, shooting him an amused grin. 

“You’re too much of a fucking realist,” he said, as he made his way out of the kitchen and into the restaurant. 

“And you’re too much of a fucking dreamer. These things take time, Carmy.”

“I know that,” he said, as he grabbed the cloth he’d thrown. He approached the bar, and leaned over it, bridging the gap between your faces. “We could still do it, though. Have our own place. Cook our own menu.”

You smiled at his words, and rearranged the napkin holders next to him. “Can’t do that when you’re about to join the big leagues,” you said, and Carmen slid off the bar. 

“You’re gonna fucking jinx it!” he wailed.

“It’s called manifesting!” you exclaimed. “You’re gonna get the fucking job, Carm.” He pulled out a chair from one of the tables and dropped into it melodramatically. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see,” he muttered. “You think Paulie will still talk to me if I leave?”

You were the one to throw your cloth at him now, and it hit him square in his face with a slap sound. You smacked your hands over your mouth in surprise, before you tried and failed to stop chuckles from cascading out of your mouth. 

“I’m sorry–” you started, rounding the bar. 

Carmen slid the cloth off his face. “You’re fucking funny,” he said sarcastically. 

“I’m sorry, Carmy, really,” you said through chuckles, as you dropped yourself into the chair opposite him. You took the cloth from his hands, and gently squeezed his hand in apology. 

A comfortable silence, one that you’d grown accustomed to over the past eight months, descended upon the two of you. All you could hear was the playful pounding of your hearts and the soft way he breathed. It was a relaxing sound. 

“You’re gonna get it,” you said again, and Carmen only had eyes for you then. “And when you do, I can’t wait to go and eat the best meal of my fucking life.”

Carmen smiled. He’d always been shy, always quiet, unless he was in the kitchen. “My brother has a restaurant, back in Chicago. When I finished culinary school, I really thought he’d let me join him, you know? It could be a family restaurant. We could run it together, or something,” he said. You hooked onto his every word. “But, he told me no. Said he didn’t want me anywhere near it, and– I don’t know. I think that’s why I came here.”

You bit your lip, inhaling his words. “Family will always be our harshest critics,” you said.

Carmen scoffed, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. “You can fucking say that again.”

“You know, my sister lives in Chicago,” you said. 

Carmen leant forward. “Really?”

You hummed. “Has for a few years now. My mom didn’t like it when she told us she was moving, but.” You shrugged. “That’s just because my mom has never lived anywhere else than here.”

“Yeah, my own wasn’t thrilled about me coming to New York, either,” Carmen said, before he huffed in dark amusement. “It’s funny. She hates us, my brother and sister and I, when we’re around, when we complain, when we do anything– but she also hates it when we all wanna get the fuck out because of it.”

You smiled at him softly, in understanding. “They fuck you up, don’t they?”

Carmen flicked his gaze over your features. “You don’t seem fucked up to me,” he said gently. 

“Give it time,” you said. Smiles slowly appeared on both of your faces, until laughter trickled from your mouths like drops from a tap. “One day you’ll realise just how messed up I am,” you joked. 

“Is that a challenge?” Carmen questioned. 

You scoffed, and raised your hands up defensively. “Fuck no. I don’t want to tempt fate when it comes to how fucked up chefs can be.”

Carmen pointed at you abruptly, sternly, but there was amusement all over his face. “That is an untrue stereotype,” he said. “Not all of us snort coke.”

“All?” you asked.

“Well.” He leaned closer to you, stretching his arms across the table. “Not me.” 

You regarded him softly. You hardly got the chance to do this during service; just look at him. Hold his gaze, feel him close. You would never admit it, but having Carmen around was a constant over the past months that comforted you. You liked having him near, liked seeing him practically everyday, and it was clear that you got on enough to talk bullshit with each other. 

When you got home that evening, way past midnight, you opened up your laptop and went to the Union Square Cafe website. You hovered your mouse over the reservations tab, thinking something crazy. 

Carmen hadn’t heard back from the restaurant yet, but he’d only applied as the CDC there a number of days before. You knew he was going to get it, and felt it deep within your soul. That feeling is what lead you to book yourself a solo dinner, for the first available date you could possibly find– a years’ time.

You knew that, by the time that year was up and you were sitting at your table, Carmen would be in the kitchen, cooking your meal. You didn’t tell him about it either, but kept it to yourself for the remainder of his time at the diner. 

You’d been right, when within a month, he’d gone through a rigorous interview process and landed the position and USC. Paulie had faked being mad, but it was clear to see the immense admiration he had for the young Carmen Berzatto. When his last shift approached, you had secretly arranged a goodbye celebration. At the end of a long Saturday, as you and Carmen shut up the diner and headed out, you were ambushed by the servers and chefs as you tread through the park. 

Drinks and laughs were shared at your apartment across the way. It was the most you’d seen Carmen socialise in the time you’d known him, but he didn’t look uncomfortable once. He knew he had a support system behind him from the diner– and from you, predominantly. When the moon shone down onto your building, you found yourself out on your fire escape with a beer bottle in your hand. You looked up at the stars, and only looked away when someone shuffled out of the window and sat next to you. 

Carmen crossed his legs next to you, and gulped down his own beer contentedly. You turned to him and smiled fully, overly excited for him to start his new endeavour. 

He huffed at you softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” he said. 

“I know,” you replied. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

Carmen shuffled awkwardly next to you. “I know, I know, it’s just–”

“For once, you need to be okay with being the centre of attention, okay? Deal with it.” You hit back, and laughed when you saw the way his eyes widened at your tenacity. “We’re so excited for you, Carm.”

Carmen nodded, and allowed himself to accept all of your praise, just this once. “I’m excited, too,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I got it.”

“I can,” you said. “If you don’t get some type of chef award in the next year then I’ll be surprised.” 

Carmen laughed. “Chef award?”

“You know, like ‘Best New Chef On The Block’, or ‘Shyest Chef In The Business’, or–”

“Enough, enough,” he let out, chuckling. You weren’t done yet, however. 

“Or the James Beard award.” 

He scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“It’s called mani–”

“Manifesting!” Carmen finished your sentence for you, imitating your past words. You leaned against the wall in awe at his playfulness. 

“So, you do listen to me sometimes, huh?”

“I guess I do,” he said, and shot you a knowing smile. You held his gaze when he gave it to you, because it was somewhat of a rare thing. 

Maybe you’d always been too out there for Carmen, but he’d learned to live alongside you despite it. You were glad about that. You enjoyed his company more than you’d ever say to his face, and despite being so happy for him to leave the diner, part of you was aching at the thought of his absence. 

You flicked your gaze over his face, taking in his features. He had a strong nose, and the kind of cheekbones that they talked about in women’s magazines. His eyes, though– God, his eyes– they were so blue that they looked artificial in some lights. Like the kind of blue food colouring you put in cake icing. Alarming, but also impossible to shy away from when he was properly looking at you. 

He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple shifted in his throat. “I’m gonna miss you,” he said, almost croaking out the words. Your heart melted. Your brows furrowed softly. Your chest compressed. You let out a shaking breath through your nose. 

“I’m gonna miss you, too, Carmy,” you let out. It felt like the best and worst kind of goodbye. 

You hadn’t thought about that day in years. The last time you had, it was after your reservation at USC the year after. Coincidentally, that was the last time you’d seen Carmen Berzatto too, until he showed up at the diner and plummeted you back to those thoughts from those previous years. 

As the lunch rush died down, you wiped the bar down from lack of what else to do. In the corner, Carmen and Sydney were finishing up their meal. Sydney had made an abundance of notes in a small notebook, while Carmen talked in hushed tones and spilled all the old diner secrets. With his hands clasped on the table before him, used napkin to his left, plates practically licked clean, he turned himself around to glance around the restaurant. 

You sucked in a sharp breath when his eyes hit yours. You almost froze, but remembered yourself as much as you could. You tensed, and looked away first quickly. You smacked your hands down on the counter when you looked to the kitchen, and caught Paulie’s eyes. “I’m going for a smoke!” you announced, before you slipped off your apron quickly. 

“Those things will kill you!” Paulie exclaimed back, his voice booming across the restaurant floor. 

“Maybe that’s the point,” you muttered to yourself, as you headed towards the back door of the diner. You slipped a cigarette between your lips on the way.

Carmen’s gaze followed you as you disappeared through the door. Sydney saw it all as she sat opposite him, and had the strangest urge to give him guidance. 

“So, shall we get outta here?” she asked. Carmen’s attention was still on the door. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, but his mind was still elsewhere. “Just– give me one second,” he said, as he stood up from the table. He started towards the door, and Sydney grabbed his wrist abruptly. Carmen froze, and looked down at her. 

“Don’t push her,” Sydney said suddenly. “I don’t know what shit you guys have going on, but I’m good at reading faces. Just don’t push her too hard, Carm.” 

Carmen regarded her thoughtfully. He nodded. Then, he was gone.

PART TWO