#when im still losing my mind in grief

[cryptidyork]

.

[s0fter-sin]

youth by daughter is 09 soap in mw3, bitter and defeated after losing ghost, talking to 22 soap who’s so hopeful and secretly in love with his lieutenant

[kyuala]

SOOOOOO hard to go through everyday life trying to ignore the never-ending feeling that im just irreparably fucked up and therefore should just give up on everything

[ghostboymp3]

I'm always torn abt posting personal stuff on here. like idc abt posting silly goofy shit, I mean like more anecdotal thoughts n stuff on the more complex/difficult shit in my life. I think what keeps me from doing it is there's like less then five irl friends following me on here. and I love them to death, but no one can know anything abt me ever. it feels a lot safer to talk abt stuff with internet friends/the void of my blog. and I could unpack WHY I'm weird abt sharing stuff with my irl friends but that would be a long post. and also fall into the category of posts I'm trying to describe rn. I live in hell btw

[ravengards-rogue]

i lose control (when you're not next to me.)

javier escuella x reader

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader (gendered language + wearing dresses etc), established relationship, religious imagery (maybe sacrilege)takes place in ch.4 of rdr2, submissive!reader, soft dom!javier, some spanish petnames (mi amor mi vida, and hermosa i think), pillowing humping, penetration, very lovesick sex lol, veryy established dynamic, praise kink, written like. sooo explicitly for @nanamimizz, 18+

✧ wc : 5.2k (after editing mind you)

✧ a/n : this is fucking nuts LMAOO. i wrote this like. no bullshit in a day. i don't know how that happened. mentioned in the tags that this is for my beloved best friend but i think it's still okay to post. im losing it a little. i have hw due in an hour

✧ synopsis : javier can't help but feel some ways about the way you miss him. so dreadfully obedient. so apparently needy. how could he not adore you?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

There’s something a little pathetic in the way you pine after Javier that makes him a worse man than he is. 

He’s good to you though. Always. Down to his bones, the core of him. The soul of him. It’s hard to be anything but good to you. 

In all of his life, across lovers, men and women - he doesn’t think he’s met a single soul who simply likes him as much as you do. Who preens so pretty with so little, who doesn’t need much at all. Never met a woman who tucks and folds herself into corners just to be polite. Never thought he’d find it so fascinating, either - but you prove him wrong often. 

It’s testament to Javier’s adoration that he can’t help but notice you anyway. That even when your featherlight footsteps and darling voice fall off and get caught on the wind and blown away - Javier will still manage to find you. Even with all of your attempts to make yourself small and unrecognizable, his sharp brown eyes will still catch on the linen of your skirts and the threaded gold of your cross necklace. Javier’s own body betrays him in his love for you, in his wanting. 

Even though he’s not interested in pretending he doesn’t love you, his eyes and mouth and hands would look and call and search. They’d never give him the opportunity to be anything but in love. 

It’s important that he makes that known. He’s only ever interested in being a good man to you. Holding you and kissing you and worshiping you until you’re melty between his fingers. Javier loves loving the resistance out of you and you always make it so easy for him. 

He’s a good lover by nature and by practice. Passionate and maybe a little conceited, it’s not his first brush with romantics. He can only hope it’ll be his last. 

Even so, he’s never been liked the way you like him. 

You like Javier in a way you seem embarrassed by when you remember. It causes you to act in ways out of character on the surface, emboldened. Maybe just needy. Enough to bask in his praise and affection once a little liquor has touched your mouth. You like Javier in a way that makes you lovesick and puppylike, all honeyed gazes and pouty lips. He’s never met somebody who likes him the way you do, without grandstanding. Just pure, puppy love. Almost innocent if you don’t look too long. 

Almost being what matters most. 

Javier knows the way you were raised, after all. Knows the intimate ways in which you fold yourself and tuck your wants between the pages of your diary and slip your requests under your tongue. It’s hard for you to want for anything too much because you’ve been told your whole life that wanting at all is a sin. Wanting may even get you killed. A good woman should want nothing but salvation. Anything more than that is indulgence and there’s nothing good about that. It translates in the way you carry yourself. You’ll stop and fumble and shy away before even fixing your lips to ask, like you’re planning on being rejected or told no. 

A good girl like you being told no so often, it’s made you all sacrifice and empty prayers. Javier often feels grief about your lives before each other but nothing makes it so evident as that. A good woman, a beautiful and kind and soft one like you should never hear the words no without the best of reasons. That’s what Javier believes for all of his lovers, but you’re special. 

And that makes it worse. 

For you he’d do anything. No price he wouldn’t pay, no place he wouldn’t go, nothing that’s too far out of his reach. He thinks maybe he’s so eager to give it to you because he knows you don’t have it in you to take it yourself. You won’t whine greedily even if Javier tells you too, so Javier’s giving is only a partial virtue. It’s mostly pride, after all. It hurts his ego a little when you refuse to bask in the love he so enthusiastically wants to drown you in. 

Despite his complaints though, it’s a part of you that makes him so weak to you. That you want with such desperation but don’t allow yourself to take - so it makes you pliant and willing and terribly, adorably pathetic. You’re so weak for Javier. Just for him, you always say. Always with a hand in his, or wrapped around his bicep. All yours, Javi. Always his. 

That’s the thing. Javier wants to give everything in the world to you. He wants to be good to you, and he so often is. But you do things sometimes, all collapsed under the weight of your own desire that drive him insane. Make him act in ways he normally wouldn’t dream of doing. Depraved and filthy and unromantic in all senses of the word. 

It’s really not very polite for Javier to stand and watch you at his door - humping his pillow with weeps and huffs. It’s not kind to embarrass you. He’s a good man, and a good man would cover you with his coat and maybe smile about how much you care for him. 

But there’s just something about the look on your face when you do it, something about the tear stains in your lashes and the way your cheek is pressed in his jacket. Something about that needy, incessant little ache in your voice as you call and call and call for him. As if you’re hoping you’ll answer despite him not being there.

Javier is a good man to you. Maybe he could be better. Maybe he’s not good enough.  

He stands in the doorway of your shared bedroom with a soft, gentle grin. There’s no question he’s behaving a worse man than he is. Than he ought to be. 

He’s quiet as he shuts the door, balancing his weight to remain noiseless. 

Javier doesn’t particularly like being all the way out in Saint Denis nor is he fond of intel missions. The city is loud, the people unfriendly - though he likes the music and art. He prefers staying in camp if he can help it, but this big bank heist has everyone busy. He’s at least thankful that it’s given him an excuse to be with you. Your knowledge of herbs and poisons and the like have been helpful to gathering information. Been a lot of slipping things in drinks and making people forget. The sort of dirty work he’s accustomed too, while also getting a chance to be with you in a place with four walls and a bath. A dream for the future, maybe. 

It’s been nice, but he’s been out now for two days - out in the streets gathering information about Bronte’s people. A bunch of lowlifes just like them, but with their hands in the pocket of the city. He’s only been gone for two days, so there’s no reason you should miss him this much. And yet he hears it anyway. And it pleases him, truthfully. 

He takes off his coat as he listens to you at the doorway. Shrugs the middle-weight material of his sheen suit jacket over his shoulders and lays it on a chair, takes off his wingtip-gaiter shoes, undoes the yellow puff tie from around his neck. Nothing but a white linen dress shirt and the dark black slacks he’s been wearing for days now, some parts covered in bloodstains he only barely managed to wash out in the river not long ago. 

He’s thankful he took a bath before getting in now, listening to you moan. His hands being clean feel like a blessing - just his luck. 

He manages to remain quiet as he steps into the main room - a single bed in the center. Javier finds you there in a heap as he rests his body along the wall of the entrance to his right. He crosses his arms over his chest as he takes a minute to take in the scenery, admiring the soft lowlights and the way they cast shadow on your body. 

The wooden bed frame creaks slightly as you rut your hips. You’re out of it, Javier can tell, since you’ve yet to sense the fact he’s come in. The paintings along the back wall click against soft red walls themselves, over and over in an arrhythmic tic. Javier tries not to laugh. Gives himself a minute to admire the moment for what it is, the vulnerable desperation of your lust. He has to get over the disbelief, too. Over the fact your face is buried in the open part of his bluecoat and that you’ve got a hotel pillow(his hotel pillow) between your legs. One that you’re humping so frantically he can’t help but feel sorry for you. 

You’re making a mess.

You are a mess. The way the white chemise falls over your back and hips, and the lack of finesse in your gestures. If Javier had to bet money on it - he’d bet money on the fact you probably didn’t start this way. He figures you nested with his coat and pillow to go to sleep and then worked yourself into something senseless and desperate. And he’d figure if he didn’t show up, you wouldn’t cum at all. You’d go to bed all frustrated and tired and just wait for him like always. 

Any man would be pleased by it, he thinks. And a good one would never embarrass you about it. Javier tries his best. Weighs his options, but the words slip from his mouth before he can think to stop them. 

Pure elation in his words wrapped up in a smug delight. “Aye, hermosa - you’re gonna ruin my things you know?” 

Your reaction is what he expects. You jump out of your skin first, sitting straight up. Javier bites back a laugh as you do, big wide eyes like a deer caught in the scope of a rifle. You look around the room, worried you’re imagining him. Once you’ve come back to reality enough to realize he’s real and tangible - all the neediness washes right back into your expression. 

“Javier,” You sniffle and god. Javier hopes the heavens are more merciful to him than he is to you. “Javi,” 

“I’m home,” He voices in a partial tease, walking towards you. He can tell you want to run to him. To crawl into his arms and lap and collapse there forever, but the dull throbbing between your legs is stopping you. “I would ask if you missed me but, somehow I get the feeling you did.” 

You let out a soft, sniffly whine as Javier sits in the bed next to you. He turns his body to face you a little better but keeps distance. You turn your face towards him. Javier cups your cheek in his palm, eyes tracing your features. Your lips are bruised like you’ve been biting on them to keep the noise down and your eyes are wet with tears, red stained in the waterline. His thumb brushes along the thin skin of your lower lip, clicking his teeth at you. 

“Look at you,” He reprimands, his voice tender as he leans in to give you a little relief. You kiss Javier too eagerly, impatient and lacking your usual timidness. It’s how he knows how far you’ve fallen. How simple and easy your reactions are. “You’re going to hurt yourself pushing so desperately,” He laughs again, a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Does it feel good, at least?” 

“It’s better when you do it,” You admit, falling forward. Javier doesn’t let you drop, but he doesn’t comfort you right away either. He laughs and lets a hand rest on your lower back, relishing in your reaction. You shiver, sensitive and overstimulated with so little at all. 

“I know,” He coos with as much faux-sympathy as he can manage. “Couldn’t wait for me a little longer? I’m hurt.”

“Nooo,” You draw the words out, pitiful and upset “I’m sorry. I missed you,” 

“It’s okay,” Javier says, knowing he wasn’t mad in the first place. Not even a little. “Ahh, what should I do with you now, do you think?” 

It’s hard not to laugh at the immediate noise of disapproval. He’s sure you’d be able to ask him for what you want if he coaxed you into it. One whispered word of tell me what you want, and you’d be begging for his cock with ease. Filthy words from such a pretty mouth, he likes the idea. 

But he’s feeling… something. Something on the border of sadistic and loving that has him instead thinking. 

Pretending to think. 

“Maybe you should keep going, hm? You’ll think clearer once you’ve let it out, don’t you think?” 

“I can’t,” You bemoan, pleading with him. “I’m trying but it’s—it’s not enough, Javier, please.” 

He shakes his head. “Oh, man. What am I gonna do with you? Should I help you, mi amor?” 

You nod your head rapidly. As if he’d ever leave you out to dry when you look all pretty helpless. He doesn’t mention it to you. “Please,” 

“Yeah? I’ll help you then.” He offers, taking your hand and guiding you to his lap with his legs stretched out. He sits you over his thighs, glancing back at his jacket and pillow, brows raised when he sees how sticky they both are. Your habit of drooling and your cunt soaking his pillow case, he laughs just a little seeing the state of them. You must notice because you hit his shoulders weakly. “So needy,” 

“Javier.” 

“Alright, alright,” He laughs again, kissing your cheek as he brings you to him. You frown but comply with his handling of you, strong hands pulling you over his thigh. He sits you down until your bare cunt is pressed against the clothed muscle. It dawns on you what he’s doing as he’s doing it, a noisy little whimper sounding as Javier pulls you close. Close enough to wrap your arms around his neck. He puts a hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to bury his face into the space of his shoulder. He can feel the relief in you when you do, slumping into him a second time today. “You have to move on your own, you know? I won’t help you.” 

“You’re being awful,” You say with no real malice or bite. 

“I’m a little hurt, that’s all. And I’m helping you aren’t I? Is that not what you want?” 

You groan against the skin of his neck. “I want your…ngh,” 

He hums against you, decides to be merciful since he’s teased you plenty and he’s going to tease you more. 

“Wanna feel me right here, don’t you?” He puts a hand between your bodies, pressing the back of his hand into your stomach. “I know, I know. But I want you to cum like this first.”

“Can’t do it by myself,” You sniffle. Don’t even try to push back, so obedient and willing. Javier hums sympathetically. 

“I’m here right? I’ll help you, mi vida. I’m not that mean, am I?” 

You shake your head no. He most definitely is, but maybe he can keep that a secret from you a little longer. 

“Here,” He says. Javier pulls your chemise up until it’s pooling at your waist. Strong, tan hands hold at your hips, squeezing the soft skin with a warm sigh. You keen immediately. He pushes his thigh up just slightly to give you the right kind of friction. Hiccuping in his lap, he sets a pace for you to grind yourself on him. A slower back and forth. When you get too wet, too needy - you get sloppy. Sometimes he can give it to you hard and fast but you’re sensitive. Sensitive to the point it’s easy to make you hurt, make yourself hurt if you’re too clumsy. 

You’re always chasing pleasure but you don’t know anything about build-up. For a girl who tends to keep to herself and is always so meticulous - there’s something about seeing you get so sloppy that turns Javier on. When you’re wet and can’t think straight “Not too fast, okay? You’re sensitive, need it slow at first to make it feel good if it’s like this. Did you forget?” 

You nod, then moan hotly against his throat. Javier shivers at the way your tune changes. He can feel you breathe in his scent and relax as he guides your hips. He eventually stops touching you. Lets you take control of the pace just like he shows you. You manage to pace yourself despite how much you want to cum. Javier can feel how pent up you are. The fabric of his slacks going sticky, tacky from cum and arousal. 

You smell nice and soft, like baby powder and something floral. 

Javier’s been hard since he got in the door, but it’s starting to fog his mind up. Feeling your tits press against his chest, feeling your skin against his. Soft and pliant and beautiful. He kisses against your shoulders as you slowly start to build your orgasm up again. Not that it’s hard. 

You pull away from him, briefly - and your face makes his dick twitch. You’re always pretty but you’re especially pretty like this. Drool drips from the corners of your mouth, eyes lidded and barely blinking.

“Javi,” Your words are slurred. Javier laughs but doesn’t clean you up. “Kiss me,” 

“Sure,” He replies, though he’s all too happy to do it. Javier kisses you with tongue. He knows it’s what you want. Your hands curl up at his chest as he brings his own to cup your head and pull you to him. His tongue in your mouth is invasive but precise, knowing all the ways you want him to nip and kiss and suck on your mouth. You whine in complete pleasure, drunk from the sensation and he’s hardly touched you at all. 

He thinks of how he’ll fuck you as he kisses you. He’ll touch you more than he is now and you’ll fuck like lovesick rabbits until sunrise. It’s less something Javier decides and more something he knows. Like once he opens the door to pleasing you like this, it’ll be tough on him to close it again. 

“Javi,” You keep calling his name. It might be the only word you remember. Always seems to be when you get like this. “It feels so good. Feels so good when you touch me,” 

Javier kisses against your bare shoulder and neck, teeth scraping soft against your clavicles. “Mm. You’re doing well. A very good girl today,” 

You shudder at the praise, all the hairs on your neck raising from the drop of it. Javier laughs. You whine his name again but he doesn’t reply. He can feel you more than he can see you. Your body is twitching against his thigh and your muscles are tight where you hug against him. Javier calms you. 

“Gonna cum soon, huh?” 

You nod over and over, but can barely keep your head up to do it. And he laughs, full of fondness and affection as he peppers your face with kisses. He doesn’t have it in him suddenly, to tease you about it any more. He encourages you instead, hand on your hips to give you more friction as you start to grow erratic in your breathing. You pant hard against his ear, like you’re chasing something. Little bunny rabbit, he thinks. Your voice is little more than a croak. 

“Oh,” You moan, loud and helpless and needy as you cling to him. Your hands fisted in the back of his shirt as you cry out his name one more time. A prayer, maybe. Or a curse. Something in between. “Javier, oh,” 

“Shhh, that’s it. Just like that. Good girl. You’re so good to me.” 

You weep into his neck as you cum, your whole body tightening before breaking out into aroused shakes. You’ve completely lost it in front of him. On the brink of insanity with nothing but pleasure filling your empty-head. You hump against him thoughtlessly as you ride out your high, then finally lean against him when you’ve managed to reach the end of it. You don’t move. Javier can feel how big the wet patch of his pants has grown and tries not to laugh. 

You’re only barely coherent when you’ve finally pulled away. Your pupils are blown out and your face is flushed, sweat making your hair stick to your skin in the places it’s not tucked away. Javier laughs at the state you’re in, brushing his thumb along your cheek just beneath your eyes. 

“Are you with me still, do you think?” 

You nod, seemingly exhausted. He laughs again and kisses your temple. 

“Want you,” You say, despite your state. His eyes widen again at how soon after you’re asking him. He was planning on taking his time, but that plan might just be out of the race. He’s not above you begging him so sweetly. “Please, Javi. Need you, need you so bad.” 

You sound like you’re about to cry. He speaks in soft murmurs. “I thought you’d be too tired to keep going right away.” 

“No,” You mumble and shake your head. “Please. Please, want you so bad.” 

“You’re exhausted, mi vida.” 

“Please,” 

He chuckles. “Okay. Okay, don’t cry. Whatever you want, remember. Unbutton my shirt for me, mi amor.” 

You sniffle, your hands shaking as you fulfill his request. You’re exceptional at listening. Javier smiles at you, your eyes meeting as you do. You flush and pout, only barely managing to maintain his gaze without looking away. You unbutton his shirt dutifully. He puts a hand on your arm and rubs it soothingly. “You must’ve missed me a lot, huh.” 

You nod. “It’s bad, you know? Two days shouldn’t feel so long. It didn’t use too.” 

“Just means we love each other,” Javier assures, a safe place for you to express your neediness. “That’s nothing bad,” 

You nod, pressing your forehead to his. “That’s true,” 

“See? And it’s nice you know. Having someone miss me. Wait for me. Makes me want to come home instead of, I don’t know.” He feels his throat tighten at the sincerity but pushes through anyway “Dying for the cause. Or even just because.” 

It’s the first time you’ve smiled all day and god. Might be the only thing that’s ever mattered. Above all forms of love prior and past. Above revolution. Above god. Just you. You smile, happy and elated and keep unbuttoning his shirt with a coquettish-ness to you. Comfortable and safe. 

You help Javier out of his shirt, and wait for his approval to go after his pants. Undoing the buttons, you free his cock from the confines with a soft gasp. Javier laughs at the reaction, cat-like grin on his features. 

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”  

“It’s so big,” You say, your hand wrapping around it briefly. Javier swears, head against the headboard. 

“Careful,” He warns, laughing thickly. “I’m pretty pent up too,” 

“Want it inside me,” You say so easily it startles him. You blink up at him through your lashes, too pretty for your own good. “Please?” 

“Should open you up a little.” 

“Want it to hurt,” You reply instantly. Javier feels his breath hitch. 

“Oh, fuck.” He breathes, trying to keep himself from cumming in your hands. “We’ll go slow.”

You nod quickly, not wanting to wait any longer. Javier curses himself for not being more polite. 

He guides your arms around his neck, his own arm around your waist as he lays you down on your back. You look up at him, surprised by his handling of you but not upset by it all. You mumble something he doesn’t catch, but it sounds pleased. 

Javier finds that he’s fond of missionary. He didn’t think he was the type, but there’s something about seeing you laid on your back that he likes. Likes being able to look at you and be close to you, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you curl into him. He lays you down gently on his spine, laughing at the way your legs wrap around his waist the second you’re comfortable. His hands go up under your knees but don’t push you too far. You spread your legs for him naturally, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and leftover stupid want. He looks down at you and smiles. 

“One more, okay? Just the one.” 

“I can’t,” You whine “Too sensitive. Just want you to cum on me,” 

“Are you doubting me?” He challenges, only partially. Your eyes widen and he chuckles. “Of course you can. One more,” 

You whimper, suddenly realizing you had no choice in the first place. But you nod, relenting to him like you so often do. Javier kisses you. It means more things that he’s comfortable telling. Means thank you, and that he’s sorry, that he loves you. He kisses you one more time after that, and smiles at how happy you seem because of it.

Finally, when Javier lays you down on the sheets beneath you - it feels like finding religion all over again. The loose material of your chemise has given up on covering you, exposing the soft mound of your chest and hardened nipples. He can see your neck and shoulders and everything else above and below. You’re so beautiful his cock twitches again, hard. 

He sits back up on his knees and takes a deep breath as he lays his cock against your puffy folds. You breathe soft, an aching sound from the back of your throat as you pull your skirt up to give him better access. He laughs gently at that, examining how nearly seven inches measures up to you and feels a little dizzy in the process of it. He’s done this with you so many times now, practically trained your body to take him without too much trouble. A welcome change from when you could barely fit the tip, too inexperienced to do it but even more determined. 

Even still some part of him worries about it. It’s not enough to stop him though, not nearly. His cock twitches against hard, wanting for you. He looks down at you and sees you stare up, admiring his figure. He laughs. 

“Like the view?” 

You nod. “Mm. Uh-huh.” 

“I’m glad,” He replies, then adds “Deep breath,” 

So you take a deep breath, and Javier pushes the tip of his cock into you with a loud grunt. You’re so soft. Wet, and pliant and soft around the swollen head of his cock, he can’t help but shudder with relief and desire. Can’t help but grit his teeth and grip onto your hips to steady himself. 

You breathe like the air has been punched out of your lungs, saying his name dreamily. “Oh, Javi,” 

He swears under his breath, something incoherent as he pushes the tip push into you evenly. It’s not easy. The resistance is there, but you don’t whine in pain right way - so it means it’s not too hard on you. Perhaps loosened by the previous orgasm, or simply so needy that it doesn’t bug you. Still, Javier makes sure to keep himself tight. He rocks, back and forth, ignoring the agony of that sensation to keep him from thrusting up into your soft, welcoming cunt. If he listened to what he wanted, he can’t be confident it wouldn’t make you ache. He already knows you will with this much. 

It takes a few minutes, and some whimpering from you before he finally manages to bottom out. 

You feel good. God, you feel good. 

He can’t imagine heaven, but he thinks being inside of you might be close enough. There’s certainly all the makings of religion when he makes love to you. You, a soft and loving deity, and him - a man laden with sin who longs to be saved. It makes sense to compare you that way. And it feels just as euphoric as the always described, being wrapped in you. Being part of your completion. What's religion without worshippers, anyway? 

Javier groans as he bottoms out inside of. When he manages to peel his eyes open and look at you, you’re debauched. He’s debased you this completely and he doesn’t know if you can even tell. He laughs, leaning down to kiss your neck and run pecks against your jaw. 

“Feel good?” 

“Feels so good,” You moan, then hold him tighter. “I love you. Love you Javier,” 

“Me too, mi amor. Para siempre. ” He hums, kissing your forehead before looking at you. “Can I move?” 

“Please,” 

“Touch yourself for me,” He tells you patiently. “Make yourself feel good.” 

You nod, dazed - a hand between your bodies as Javier sets a pace to fuck you. He knows you in and out. At least well enough to know exactly the ways to make you feel good. Only a few thrusts for him to find the perfect pace, perfect rhythm, perfect spot. You make a noise like a songbird, deep in the back of your throat and Javier can feel you pulse around him in pleasure. 

You stay like that, with him. Javier fucks you to his hearts content in deep, long thrusts - angled against the softest parts of you and wanting to make you feel good. He whispers sweet nothings as your nails dig into the muscle of his back. You feel good for him. You are good for him, wet and perfect. It takes all of his strength to fuck you consistently, the bed rocking underneath you both as he gives it to you hard. 

“I’m close,” You whimper, not seeming to believe yourself despite. “I’m so close, oh god, Javier.” 

“That’s it,” He whispers, chuckling against your skin “One more. Just one more and I’ll give it to you.” 

It’s the promise of his cum that drives you over the edge. You gasp and groan, shuddering as Javier pounds you through your second orgasms. He groans as he feels your pussy spasm and tighten around him, practically begging him to put it inside. He’s nearly lost his sense enough to do it, unhelped by the way your sweet voice begs him for it. He practically has to pry himself away from you, out of you to keep himself from cumming inside as deep as he can possibly go. 

He manages, barely, to stave off his own orgasm. Long enough pull himself out of you with a broken gasp and cum outside of you. Making a mess of your stomach and your soft, swollen cunt with his seed. He paints you in thick ropes of whites as he swears loud in the process, euphoria rumbling through him uninterrupted. 

“Fuck,” He moans, finally getting to the end of it. A little embarrassed by how much of a mess he’s made right along with you. “You do something crazy to me, you know that?” 

You stare at him, bleary eyed and giggly despite your exhaustion. “I know. Me too. I missed you,” 

He laughs, and can’t find the words to say anything but the same back. Of course Javier is a worse man when you’re around. 

Any man loved this much is bound to be a little ruined. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[kawareo]

My Durge's stats pre-tadpoles are absolutely insane so I've been thinking what it'd look like if Orin failed to lobotomize him... Like the fight with him a Tav would have to win?

It'd be a bitch but there'd be fun options to make it easier and winnable

Him and Gortash would be working together still but what'd complicate things would be that Bhaal would've grown impatient and reduce Durge to a mess that would've dragged hinself in his temple and stay there. When Tav talks to Gortash, Gort has a massive fresh scar over his neck where Durge nearly killed him last time they were together. Gortash sends Tav to the temple but he fully expects/hopes they would die and that that could bring Durge back to his own mind.

If Orin would still be alive? Tav could make a deal with her that she'd help them find the temple, where she'd eventually need help in the combat with Durge, but if Tav would've helped her, that'd initiate a fight with the entire temple and with Orin, who'd be furious that you intervened.

Then, fight with Durge would be a bitch to win, but there would be some ways to get around and make it easier. Most of all would be useful a Persuasion or Deception proficency, and also going around Baldur's Gate and finding information about him - what would be Tav's best option would be to provoke Durge to a degree that he loses his already fragile cool and Bhaal forces a Slayer form on him - that way he loses his spellcasting abilities and also the double attack he gets from his fighter levels, and his paralysis weapons!

Options for that would get him to lose his shit would be

- [Deception] Gortash has sold you out, you mad dog. You've grown too unpredictable after what happened, we're here to put you down.

Has Advantage if Tav found notes between them or used Detect thought when talking to Gortash and asking him about his injury. He lies to Tav's face but thinks about how Durge mauled him last time they fucked and Gortash had to fight him off of him

- [Persuasion] Look at what you've became; Chosen of Bhaal, yet fighting His gifts? Your own Kin died for what you're rejecting so.

Only available if the above mentioned Orin thing happens. Durge stares at her corpse for quite a while, then proceeds to sort of... Give up. Accepts the Slayer and surrenders himself fully to his Father.

- [Persuasion] [Unholy Assassin] You think you know better than your own god, Chosen? You, who has failed him so in every way?

He starts to yell at Tav that he didn't fail, then as if something hit him, clutches his head and starts begging Father for forgiveness (reciting some parts of Prayer of Forgiveness). While he prays, he cuts himself, the blood drips down his arms and draws itself into the circle of Summoning for the Slayer.

When Tav wins, Durge lays there dying for just a bit longer, stares into nothing and clutching at his wounds and begging Father to forgive him because "im not done yet, Father, please, I can do better, plea-!" And then his eyes roll up suddenly and he dies in a moment, when Bhaal chooses so. His body falls apart and leaves behind only the Stillmaker, his Netherstone, and a half-writen letter that's like Prayer of Forgiveness, but adressed to Gortash and one Durge never got to finish.

The idea is very rough but essentially I love the thought that Bhaal is the one who fucks it all up because he can't be patient for two minutes, and Gortash is still delusional enough for him to hope Durge can go back to normal. If you win and kill Durge, Gortash will be upset and surprised, but will kind of shut off the grief in the moment to focus on dominating the brain. If you would've lost, the canon ending would be that Durge pulls through with the stones, him and Gortash get the Brain under control, and then Durge almost immediately slaughters both of them, leaving Toril to the Brain's mercy.

Another bonus option in the dialogue would be to tell him that you killed Gortash, but if you lied or didn't have Gortash's head to prove it, he would just laugh at you. That option wouldnt be a good idea in any way, because if you wouldn't pass the deception check (DC20) or wouldn't have the head, the laugh would clear his mind enough for him to focus on the fight (not as a Slayer) and if he WOULD believe you, he'd get so angry that he would start a fight with an extra feature that would be an absolute bitch to deal with.

[serenewrote]

Hey darling! I'm the anon who submitted this (https://serenewrote.tumblr.com/post/745794658206105600/i-just-read-your-daemon-x-dornish-daughter-and-im) and I loved what you wrote, but I can get the version with princess Martell fem!reader… And… I had another idea, I hope you don't mind… So reader gets pregnant and despite it being a difficult pregnancy and birth she gives birth to her daughter ( lady Martell), and they are living happily until when the girl is 5 years old, reader gets pregnant again, but this time she can't go to term, she is losing a lot of blood and the baby won't come out (and Daemon won't allows them to open her), then reader and the baby die, not before she says goodbye to her precious girl and Dae and makes him promise to take care of their daughter and try to be happy, they make one last vow of love and she dies . In this part, if it's not too much to ask, could you focus on Dae's relationship with his daughter? like how they deal with grief and how he takes care of her (in my head this happens before he marries Laena, but it's up to you) About two or three years pass and although he still loves and mourns the reader, he marries Laena who is a sweetheart to little Lady Martell and doesn't try to replace reader, and is an excellent maternal figure. In this part, the flow continues normally, Laena has the twins, years pass and they are well and happy, but when Laena gets pregnant again and dies, Lady Martell finds herself in the same situation again (she really feels the death of Laena and the baby while remembering Reader and her other unborn brother) She tries to comfort the girls and Daemon tries to comfort the three. They go to Westeros, the funeral and all that confusion takes place, but in the meantime Daemon receives a letter from Dorne saying that it is time for Lady Martell to return home (Dorne) and be prepared to take over the throne that belonged to her mother. Lady Martell is scared at first and goes to Daemon, they have a frank conversation and he says he will support whatever decision she makes (whether to accept it or not) but he encourages her to take on what is rightfully hers. She goes to Dorne and learns her duties quickly and efficiently. A year later, her coronation takes place Dae (who is beyond proud of his eldest daughter) and the rest of the family is there to celebrate. She is a good ruler and Dorne prospers under her leadership, but when the dance breaks out Rhae asks her to support the blacks, but Lady, or rather Princess Martell, says she will not take sides on any side (Dorne will not fight in a war which is not theirs) Rhaenyra, despite being disappointed, respects her decision, something the greens didn't do… please? (Sorry if I got carried away, but the original idea is so interesting that I couldn't help myself…but feel free to ignore this idea and do what you think is best, but if you happen to follow this idea, it will be Can you detail Lady Martell's relationships with Reader, Daemon, Laena, the twins and the rest of the family and her years ruling Dorne, please?)

Ok. Yes, I can absolutely whip this up for you! I had a feeling that is what you were leaning towards but I just had the first idea in mind when you had sent that request. So, I'm sorry that it wasn't exactly to your liking, apologies. Also, I'm gonna have to give y/n from that other one shot a name now. Little disclaimer: moons = 12 months aka 1 year. And here you go:

"It was all part of the story, even the scary nights" - Daemon x Fem! Martell! Reader

Prequel to "And nothing hurt anymore, I feel kind of free"

Warning(s): death during childbirth, infantile death

110 AC

The battle at the Stepsons ended swiftly. They crowned Daemon, King of the Narrow Sea. To celebrate his conquest, Daemon set out to indulge in the finest of wines and there was only one place where it could be found, Dorne.

As Caraxas landed on the sands of Dorne, Daemon is greeted by the future Lady Y/n Martell, and her sister, Nymera.

"I heard the battle for the Stepsons was a victory. Congratulations, my prince."

The Rogue Prince smirks at Y/n, "Thank you, Princess. I also thank you for sending your fleet. Dorne isn't too font of Targaryens."

Caraxes cries out and you look to see your sister walking up to him.

"Nymera! Leave the dragon alone! Sorry, my sister's curiosity will get her killed one day."

Daemon chuckles, "We were all a bit curious at her age."

Y/n looks Daemon up and down, "My father speaks of you."

"It seems my reputation proceeds me."

"It's mostly just of what not to do and be as heir, my Prince. Although, I'm sure you are of good character."

Daemon scoffs. The audacity.

"I hope that your father won't turn me away so that you can see how good my character is."

"Why do you think my sister and I are greeting you instead of him?"

Y/n led Daemon into the great hall where a celebration was taking place. She brought him over to her father, Qoren Martell.

"Father, Prince Daemon has come for a visit. I hope you can welcome him peacefully."

Qoren looks Daemon up and down, "A dragon in our midst can only bring trouble. I have half a mind to send him away."

Y/n rolls her eyes at her father's behavior. Daemon bows his head, "I promise, Lord Martell, to keep a peaceful visit and not disturb you."

"I hope for your sake that you keep that promise, dragon."

"Alright, father. That's enough. Come, Daemon. Let's join the festivities."

Y/n leads Daemon onto floor for a dance, "You do know how to dance, right?"

Daemon scoffs at that implication, "I wouldn't be a proper prince if I didn't."

"But you aren't a proper prince. A proper prince doesn't leave for another city instead of returning to his wife."

Daemon places his hands at you waist, "I assure you, Princess. My lady wife is more than joyous for my absence."

The dance starts out slow then speeds up. At the music's climax, Daemon lifts you up. You look deep into each other eyes.

"How unfortunate for you. To be trapped in a loveless marriage.

Daemon's eyes drops to your mouth. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

"Yes, how unfortunate."

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

112 AC

In Lady Y/n Martell's chambers, she has begun her labors. Her handmaidens crowd around her.

“My lady, is there anything you need?”

The exhausted and straining Princess grits her teeth, “I would love if the Maester wasn’t wasting his time doing gods know what and help me bring my child into the world.”

Two of the handmaidens run out to see what’s keeping the maester and Daemon walks in.

“Where’s the maester, my love?”

“If I knew, he would be here. It seems he has decided to spend his time elsewher-ahhh!”

Lady Y/n tenses up. She grabs Daemon with a fierce grip.

“My dragon, my maester is nowhere to be found and little sand dragon has took it upon itself to push out.”

“Now? Like right now?”

Y/n took a deep breath, “Daemon?”

“My love?”

“You are going to help me, right now!"

"Y/n, I'm not a maester. I've never even seen a woman birth a baby. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Lucky for you, I have. Now, go and sit between my legs. It's nothing you haven't seen before-ahh!! Go now!"

Y/n's skin shines with sweat. She grips onto the chair. Daemon lifts his head from the sheet.

"Now, do I catch it when you push or....?"

Y/n looks at her lover. Surely he is not this stupid.

"Catch? catch?! If my child has even a second of air time before their first dragon ride, I'll cut your cock off and that is a promise. Now I'm going to start pushing so, focus!"

After copious amounts of pushing, Y/n and Daemon's daughter, named Aelyssa after Daemon's mother, decided to grace Westeros with her presence.

"Such powerful cries for a small little one."

"She's a dragon. Her cries are like roars."

"You, Aelyssa Targaryen, are going to be great."

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

117 AC- Aelyssa is 5

Aelyssa is conflicted. Her mother is pregnant and she is to have a sibling. She is only 5 moons old, she doesn't know how to be a big sister. She isn't allowed in the birthing room but if her mother's cries are anything to go by it seems like it isn't the place to be right now.

In the birthing room, Lady Martell isn't doing so well. The maesters are concerned with something.

"My lady, it seems as if the baby is breached somehow."

"I just need to push a little more, please!"

Maester Osferth looks at the woman with a solemn look. Daemon notices.

"What is it? Can she not continue pushing?"

"Well, my prince. It would be ill-advised to do so. Perhaps we could try and cut-"

"No, absolutely not! You will cut her like some animal!"

Y/n looks up at Daemon, "My prince."

"My love."

"I fear the babe and I will not make it."

"Don't say that."

Y/n grips Daemon's hand, hard.

"And Aelyssa will need you more than ever. The rest of the realm will not kind to her. You need to hold her and love her as you do now.

"I swear it."

Lady Y/n's grip on her lover loosens and she takes her last breath.

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

118 AC - Aelyssa is 6

It has been one moon since Lady Martell's death and the baby. Once Lady Martell had died, they cut out the baby for burial. It was a boy.

Aelyssa has not gotten over it. She mourns in her room and has her food delivered to her door.

Her father has dragged her out of her chambers to break their fast. She hasn't taken one bite.

"Zaldrītsos, can you please eat something?"

"I am not hungry."

Daemon sighs, "Aelyssaa. You are greiving; so am I but, I do not want you starving yourself. Your mother would not want you to starve yourself."

"I'm just not hungry, father. It has nothing to do with Muña."

Daemon walks over to her and grabs her hand, "Come with me."

They walk out of the dining hall and down to the crypts. Aelyssa marvels at the her ancestral burial place. They stop in front of Y/n's coffin. Daemon gestures her to kneel.

"Hello, my love. It has been one moon since you were taken by the Stranger. We are grieving but, it is hard without you here. Our little snapdragon is having trouble adjusting, naturally. Maybe this can give her peace of mind."

Aelyssa places her hands on her mother's coffin, "Hello, Muña. I admit that I am not doing well with your passing. I am not eating but, I cannot find the strength to eat. Not when you're not sitting with us. I know that you wouldn't like it and I would try to cope better. There are also talks of my ascension as Dorne's new lady. Aunt Nymeria rules in my stead until I am ready."

Tears roll down Aelyssa's face. She makes no move to wipe them.

"I have ignored father which I know I should not do as he is the only parent I have, but it is hard. I hope that you are looking down at us from the heavens and shall be proud of the woman I become."

Aelyssa launches into Daemon's arms unable to hold her sobs.

"Oh, my sand-dragon. It's ok. The hole of grief is never filled, but you learn to live with their memory. I am always here. Do not be scared to come to me with anything that dwells in your head. The ones who love us and the ones we love, never truly leave us."

Daemon and Aelyssa spent that night in the crypt, sleeping beside Y/n.

~~~~~

125 AC - Aelyssa is 12

It has been 3 moons since Former Lady Martell's death. Aelyssa is still having some trouble adjusting.

She and Daemon are sparring in the training yard of Pentos. Instead of putting her all into it as usual, Aelyssa's been lagging and her father can tell.

"Stop."

Aelyssa looks up at her father, confused. "What? Why?"

Daemon takes her sword from her hand and kneels down, leveling with her.

"What troubles you my little sunshine?"

"Nothing. Can we finish, Father?"

Daemon narrows his eyes, "No. We can talk about what's distracting you."

She sighs. Father always knows.

"You have married Lady Laena and she is with child, you will forget about me."

"Why would I ever push you aside? You are my firstborn. Nothing will change that."

"But your children will be legitimate in the eyes of the Seven Kingdoms- well six, Dorne doesn't count. The lords, ladies, and the king, I am naught but a bastard to them. And your children might rule Driftmark, a powerful ally to the King. What am I but a future Lady to a kingdom that will never ally with the rest."

Daemon caressed Aelyssa's face. His eyes soft. He remembers Y/n's last words: The rest of the realm will not be kind to her. You need to hold her and love her.

"You are my daughter. Not a political tool. Legitimate or not, I don't care. My brother can moan and groan about you all he wants. I fell in love with your mother and still hold so much love for her. Every time I look at you, I see her. And that fills me with so much happiness because our love created something so beautiful and precious."

"I am not yet sold on Lady Laena. It will take time."

"I do not intend to rush you. Just understand that I still love you and always will. Nothing will ever change that."

"Love you too."

Aelyssa hugs Daemon. Not too keen on his reassurance but she trusts his word.

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

137 AC- Aelyssa is 14 (Rhaenyra and Daemon have married and now this is following the last few episodes of S1)

Aelyssa is dressed in gold yellow with hints of red and black. She is pacing in front of closed throne room doors. Daemon is watching her, amused.

"Have you reached the sand yet?"

Aelyssa glares at her father.

"Not the time. I'm nervous and Mother is not here to advise me. I fear I will dishonor her and my ancestors."

Daemon grabs Aelyssa's shoulders to stop her pacing.

"You will be great. You have not dishonored me, therefore you have not and will not dishonor him. Your mother would want you to rule Dorne however you see fit. Now, are you ready?"

Daemon holds his arm out. Aelyssa latches onto him. The doors open. They walk. The room is quiet and all eyes are on their soon-to-be Lady. They reached the front and Ser Cyrbon led Elaesa up the steps and she sat on her throne.

"I present to you all, Aelyssa Martell, daughter of Y/n Martell, and your Lady! Hail Lady Aelyssa!"

"Hail Lady Aelyssa!"

It's done. You are now Lady of Dorne. You should address the people.

"To my people of Dorne. I welcome you to the dawn of our kingdom. I intend to rule as my mother did and more. But know this, Dorne will forever remain: Unbowed, Unbent, and Unbroken!"

The people cheered, the guards looked on in pride. Daemon smiles, and the sun- the sun shines a bit brighter on you.

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

141 AC - Aelyssa is 18

No body was found. The search was in vain. We burn his clothes in place of his body.

Aelyssa is conflicted. She knows not how to comfort her cousins and her sisters. She walks up to Rhaenyra, careful.

"He will be avenged, I swear it."

They walk into the council room. Making battle plans. Rhaenyra and Aelyssa make eye contact throughout the meeting.

"Cousin, I ask you this because I need it. I could use your help."

"Dorne will not fight in a war which is not theirs."

"I am desperate."

"Lucerys did not die in vain. Justice will come but not from us, I'm afraid."

Aelyssa pulls Rhaenyra into a hug.

"I pray to the gods that you are successful. I can't wait to see you on the throne, Cousin. The Iron Throne.

fin.

And if Aelyssa sent Blood & Cheese instead of Daemon, no one will know.

[koisuko]

Could I request reader as a cat, but with the mk 1 girls?

Absolutely! (Forgive me this is long overdue and has been sitting in my drafts, im slowly losing my passion and motivation for mk1 content im sorry jehfjsjf)

Pov: You are a cat (pt4)

how the mk1 characters react to you as a stray cat, one with an oddly familiar/fitting name

part 1, part 2, part 3, bonus

Tw: none, gn, platonic, kitty cat

Ft: Mileena, Kitana, Sindel, Li Mei, Tanya

Mileena

Ever since her mother past, even if her soul was safe with her father, she found it hard to find the time to grieve. It wasn’t the same, not being able to speak to her, hug her, learn from her. And now, the newly passed duties of empress was thrown on her by circumstance, taking up nearly her entire day.

When in the solace of her room, hidden away from prying eyes, even for just a moment, she would let a tear slip down her cheek. All the inner turmoil collected into that single drop, and staining the silky case of her pillow.

All the struggle was slowly healed when you came along, trotting happily into the castle with your tail held high. You were a stray, with your once soft black fur now dirty and matted. She took pity on you, feeling the need to care for you tugging at the strings of her aching heart. And so she did, finding an almost therapeutic rhythm when brushing your shiny coat. Upon finding the small tag dangling on your neck, she was baffled to see it read ‘Tanya’. She almost giggled at it, such a bizarre coincidence to find a gentle companion with the same name as her lover.

During the nights, when the peace and quiet is a luxury earned, she lays on her satin sheets in deep thought. You, her new found friend, curled into a small ball against her side. Your purrs vibrate through her waist, bringing out a soft sigh of content from her lips. “Thank you, Tanya,” she whispered, “you’ve done a wonderful job fending off the sadness that plagues me.” She gently stroked your back, reaching up to scratch behind your ears. Both of you, at peace even for a moment, slipped into a dreamless slumber.

Kitana

It was hard watching her sister, watching her lack the time to grieve, watching her suffer in silence and create a fake facade of happiness in front of the people. Kitana wasn’t as high status as her, so she could afford just a little time alone, something she was grateful for. If she could, she would take her place, even for a moment to allow her some freedom.

Even with the time she had, she still missed her mother greatly. It was too early, unnatural even for her mother to be gone. She almost felt lost, lacking her mother’s usual guidance and watchful eye was akin to a motherless fawn.

It had been a normal day, tending to duties, but a particularly sad day. A day filled with heavy sorrow, the stages of grief hitting Kitana like a train. Her sister is busy, tending to duties as a new empress, and this left her feeling empty and alone. Never the less, she kept a neutral expression through out the day, even a small smile for the cherry on top.

But as night came, she’d sit out in the courtyard, here eyes to the stars above. She’d whisper to the night sky, one prayer at a time, for the safety of her family and the palace. A sudden rustle of a nearby bush breaks her from her thoughts. She approaches with a perplexed expression, “who’s there?” No answer, instead, the bushes rustle once more in response. Kitana took another step closer, cautious and ready, her heart slightly racing with impending adrenaline. To her surprise, a small fluffy feline emerged from the shrubbery, tilting its head in her direction.

“Mreow,” you purred, a simple human translation to a hello. She lowered her stance, relaxing at the sight of you, “hello little one,” she cooed. You chirped in response, trotting over to rub against her legs, looking up with your big adorable eyes. She giggled, there is simply no resisting the pleading gaze of a friendly feline. As if she read your mind, she gingerly scooped you up into her arms, cradling you close to her chest. While doing so, her fingers grazed the hem of your collar, causing her to retract for a moment in surprise. When looking closer, the collar read ‘Sindel’ in a intricate cursive engraving. She gently traced the letters with her fingers, as if committing it to memory. Her eyes welled with tears, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She sniffled, nuzzling her face into your fur with a sigh, “I miss you, mother.”

Sindel

To be reunited with her husband was one thing, but to be inside his body as a spirit was another. Death wasn’t at all as expected, she felt the cold sensation and loss of feeling that came with it, but did not go to some whimsical after life. Considering the death of the forest of souls, there was no going there. A shame, really, she wanted to experience it for herself. But, considering she was with her husband once more, it felt safer than the forest.

The best she could describe it would be, feeling whole again, realizing a part of her that she was missing. She felt a strange connection between her and the other spirits there, as if a cord interlocked them at the core. Every feeling, every thought, it was all shared between them as a collective. Negativity didn’t exist, all the fear and longing she once felt, was gone now.

There was a place where everyone was a physical, walking around in a blank plane of white and fog. This is where she could be with her husband, reunited once again in pure bliss. The area was endless, even if you chose to walk continuously, you would never reach an end.

Sindel sat near the edge of the group, waiting for her husband to return once again. She looked off into the endless pool of white, deep in thought. She could see the memories of her past life, memories of her children, husband, and the kingdom. All the memories skimming over her brain like a slide show, all the way up to her untimely death. Reaching down, she gingerly caressed the wound where the katana had struck and killed her. She could remember the look of dread and sorrow on her daughter’s face, but proud was the only thing she could feel. Sindel could see the progress Mileena and Kitana have made through Jared’s eyes, and regardless if she could tell them or not, she was beyond overjoyed.

A sudden presence beside her lured her out of her trance. When she looked, she was surprised to see you, the spirit of a small house cat. It was unusual to see animals here, but never has it been unwelcome. Perhaps the others have not noticed you, as usually they would flock to an animal newcomer. She smiled down at you, admiring the beauty of your coat while you groom your paw in silence. You turned your head in response, looking up at her with one big eye, the other closed off as a token of your past life. You could sense that she was waiting, and decided to keep her company. You stood, stretching your back before trotting over to her. You didn’t hesitate, making yourself right at home on Sindel’s lap. There was no protest from her, instead, she placed a gentle hand on your back and stroked her fingers through your fur. It had been quite some time since you had been pet, your past life lacking the love and care you craved so much. If only Sindel had found you when you both were alive, she would surely take you in as her own. She scratched the top of your head, eliciting a soft purr of satisfaction from you. Sindel continued to wait for her husband, watching memories flow by, but this time with a new friend.

Li Mei

Li Mei practically watched Sindel’s daughters grow up from small infants to young women. She nearly felt her eyes well with tears, watching the coronation of Mileena through blurred eyes. Even if she gained the role through circumstance, she was still unbelievable proud.

It was unfortunate, downright depressing, losing the best friend she had just got back. After years of pleading with Sindel, working so hard to regain her trust after Jared’s passing, she had finally rebuilt the bond once broken. Only for the untimely death of her best friend, regaining her best friend’s husband in her place. Although, it was a relief to learn from Jared that she had safe passage to an afterlife of some sort. And, she was happy to hear that they were reunited, even if it was through failed dark magic.

After her promotion for her heroic acts, she felt alone and home sick. She felt wrong in the place as chief of imperial police, missing the streets of Sun Do where she kept peace for so many years. Now, she sat in her office as a newly reinstated first constable, mindlessly dragging the pen across parchment. She had taken up journaling, a simple way to vent out the everyday frustrations of police work, and to pass time on off days where crime was minimal. Paperwork from the days criminals had stacked neatly in the corner of the desk, a small lamp hovered over the various journal papers. She sighed, setting the pen down and leaning back in her seat. Stretching her back with a satisfying pop before making way to the exit of her office.

A sudden shrill shriek startled Li Mei, nearly sounding like a child screaming for help. At this time of night? She swiftly ran to a nearby alleyway where she was surprised to see the source of the sound was a cat fight between strays. One was much larger, covered in fluffy orange fur, and the other a small and scrawny brown tabby. The smaller one let out a meek hiss, while the larger one raised a paw ready to strike. You bolted behind Li Mei’s leg, having accidentally stumbled into the territory of a large Tom cat. He was aggressive, fiercely defending his home and potential breeding area, to which you wanted no part of and simply made your way here by curiosity alone. As the Tom cat made an attempt to run towards you, Li Mei stomped her foot, “hey! Quit the scuffle.” The Tom cat hesitated at first, giving you one last hiss before running back through the alley where it came from. Li Mei brought her attention to the small tabby hidden behind her, lowering to crouch beside you, “quite the predicament you got yourself into hm?” She brought her hand to your eye level, to which you gave it a gentle sniff. Paper, ink, and a small amount of roast lingered on her skin, remnants of her lunch eliciting a heavy pang in your stomach. “Are you hungry?” She frowned, studying the current state of your boney ribs and dirtied fur. You meowed, your eyes large in a pitiful beg for a scrap of satiation. She smiled, scooping you up in her arms, “let’s get some dinner in you little one,” walking back into the headquarters. She felt a strange fabric on your neck, the dirt covering making it nearly impossible to notice at first. Attached to it, was a small metal heart, rusted and covered in mud. Upon wiping it with her thumb, the words on it read “umgadi”. She giggled, “my past comes back to me.” From then on, you made several returns to her for food and protection, until eventually, you were adopted by her with open arms.

Tanya

When she wasn’t with Mileena, majority of her time was occupied by the duties of leader of the Umgadi. Being at such a high rank, and rebuilding the Umgadi from the ground up to be reformed from a few rotten apples, had kept her a very busy woman. Tanya made sure to thoroughly wring out every pupil to keep out the rats who conspire against both the Umgadi principles, and the kingdom itself.

Tanya stride down the hallways of the palace, her heels clicking against the pristine floors of the Umgadi barracks. She held an air of confidence, her head held high and eyes straight ahead. She smiled as the gentle snores of her sisters reached her ears, the peaceful sound of slumber fading slightly with every step. She had an objective in mind, her feet carrying her to the palace gardens where her lover waits.

Upon arriving, just at the entrance, two small cats walked side by side with their tails wrapped over each other. They seemed so peaceful, enjoying each other’s company under the starlit sky. She hadn’t meant to intrude, but once noticed by the two felines, one had bolted into a nearby hedge. The one remaining, a small calico, had looked at her with curiosity. You did not run, instead, you sat right where you were, to convey that you were not afraid. Tanya smiled, lowering herself to a crouch and reaching a hand in your direction, “it’s alright, I won’t harm you.” You sniffed the air, catching a whiff of her scent, the smell akin to a sunlit field of flowers with a hint of honey. You slowly approached, your neck elongated to sniff her outstretched hand without risking too much. She smiled, tilting her head with curiosity, “what’s your name, little one?” You lifted your head, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of a name on your collar. It read, “Mileena”. She smirked at the engraving, “what a beautiful name.”

[onlyinyourdreams404]

Tragedies. . . 🩹 König x M!Reader

word count: 1.4k

CW: talk of death, alcohol mentioned, reader is 20, then 21. (i don’t do angst much, but this is more of a “this happened to me” thing, so im more of ranting, so please let me know how i did with this🙏🏻 LOVE YOU GUYS! tysm for all the love on my last post!)

summary: reader lost his mother at the young age of 17. grief is hard to overcome, but when you have someone to be there for you when you need it, i guess it isn’t so bad.

|grief| |grēf|

Noun

-deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death.

some days seemed easier than others. well when you lose a mother at 17, the years seem to go so fast but days, seem endless. for (y/n), nothing seems meaningful. after losing his mother just 21 days after he turned 17, he hasn’t had a meaning to life. he barely scrapped by in school until he graduated. he grew up telling his mom that he was worried she was not gonna be there for his graduation. she used to reassure him that she would, she wouldn’t miss it for the world. so when she passed, he found every reason to graduate just for her. after graduating, he didn’t know what to do with his life, joining the military was the only option left, it has kept him sane and busy.

könig had not really talked to him other than the interview for the position in kortac, they need another man since the last one had been KIA. könig read (y/n)’s file, seeing the man’s grades questioning if this was a good idea, until he actually met the guy, who turned out to be a very good fit for kortac, very stoic, and kept to himself, but seemed nice. (y/n) ended up getting into kortac, since they needed a sniper. (y/n) had been excited to be the new sniper, since he could sit still, and his stats showed he was capable.

after weeks of training, he was ready for the next mission. he was assigned this position with könig. all (y/n) had to do was kill anybody könig didn’t see while he was searching the building for information. while being helicoptered to their destination, (y/n) had picked up the habit of listening to “lose yourself” by eminem before anything he had to do to hype himself up, to get in the mindset, just like his mom did. könig watches (y/n) with a close eye as he bobbed his head ever so slightly listening to the song. könig found it strange, but i guess everyone has their quirks.

they get to their destination and (y/n) sets up his spot while könig goes down to the building there the information is. (y/n) radios in first on the comms; “can ya hear me sir?” he says looking through his scope, finding könig easily, then switching to different windows to watch the enemies. “ja loud and clear Soldat” he says quietly into his comms his accent apparent over the comms. (y/n) nods, “good thing sir.” (y/n) adjusts himself slightly to get comfortable, listening to the silence was a little awkward. (y/n) watches as one enemy goes down as könig takes him down easily with a knife to the guys throat. “the room to your right sir, two enemies.” (y/n) says into the comms. könig sneaks into the room and takes down one solider as (y/n) shoots the other dead center. “good shot soldat” könig says into the comms. “thank you sir.” (y/n) says back. “i know this isn’t time for small talk, but tell me more about you sir” (y/n) says, trying to cure the awkwardness. “i’ll tell you more about me later soldat, pay attention” könig responds. ‘well, there goes small talk’ (y/n) thinks to himself.

they finish up the mission, a successful mission. (y/n) meets up with könig while waiting for their helicopter. “good job sir.” he says looking up at könig. könig looks down at reader, and nods, “good job out their soldat, i’m glad to have you on my team, ja?” könig says, smiling somewhat under his mask. (y/n) looks away, fidgeting with his hands slightly while waiting for the helicopter.

“what happened to you soldat? if you don’t mind me asking. what’s with ‘lose yourself’?” könig asked, not looking away from (y/n). (y/n)’s shoulders tense slightly from the question. to avoid konig’s gaze, (y/n) doesn’t stop looking at the ground, thinking about how he should answer this question, he isn’t ready to tell könig just yet. “oh uhm, nothing really. my mom would play that song for me on the way to football games i played when i was young. she would do the same when she was in softball. more of a traditional thing between me and her i guess” he answered half honestly and half lying. könig keeps looking at (y/n) and nods, looking up to the helicopter that is approaching, “oh ok. it’s good to have a good bond with your mother. that’s a cool tradition.” he says, knowing something about that answer isn’t right, he can tell, but he won’t pressure the male. (y/n) blinks back any tears, picking at his gloves, out of anxiety. time to go back to base.

after a year of being at kortac, (y/n) starts to open up more. well, a little too much due to the alcohol, now that it’s his birthday, he wanted to spend that, at the bar. (y/n) and könig had become close friends, sharing small things from childhood. now that (y/n) was under the influence of alcohol, he didn’t care sharing what happened to his mom. “könig, remember when you wanted to know more about me?” (y/n) slurs, looking up at könig with a pink flushed face. könig, having only a drink, knowing he had to the two back to base, he looks down at the male. “ja i do. are you ok with sharing?” he asked, austrian accent apparent. (y/n) nods, looking at his glass of jack daniels, thinking for a minute. “yea ‘s fine” he slurs, trying to think of how to word it. “i’ll just get straight to it, my mom died when i was 17. 21 days after, to be exact. i was devastated. i was just starting junior year of highschool,” (y/n) stops, blinking back tears. “i always had a fear when i was little, that my own mother wouldn’t be alive during my graduation, since she was 30 years older then me, that would make her 49 when i graduated. she always told me, ‘i’ll be there, i wouldn’t miss it for the world’. you can guess how i reacted when i found out she had died, a year before i graduated. my worst fear and nightmare had come true.”

(y/n) slurs slightly, taking a drink out of his glass. he looks down at it, only to push it away and put his head down into his arms. “why did she have to leave me könig? i don’t get it. please take the drink away. i don’t want to drink when im sad.” he says desperately. he knows what will happen if he gets into the habit of drinking while sad. könig calls the bartender over to take (y/n) glass, “i don’t know kind, it wasn’t fair for you, you were only a kid” he says softly, lifting (y/n)’s head slightly to look at him. “it will be ok, you’ve got us now. your mutter would be proud.” he says smiling under his mask, his eyes crinkling slightly as he does so. (y/n) looks up at him, and smiles, and leans against könig, face a light shade of pink, “thanks könig..” (y/n) slurs, “i’m sorry” he says quietly. könig looks down at the male, head tilting slightly, “what for kind? you have nothing to apologize for” he says to the male. (y/n) wipes his eyes gently to wipe away any stray tears, “for just, dumping all of that onto you, you shouldn’t have to deal with my trauma, i’m sorry” (y/n) says, voice wavering slightly. könig puts his arm around (y/n) shoulders and brings him closer, putting the male’s head to his chest, “i’m glad you told me schatz, i’m glad to get to know you better, i’m not mad. it’s good to get things off your chest, thank you for trusting me with that information, i’ll always be here if you need a shoulder to cry on schatz, always.” he says, his thumb running circles in the males back, soothing him. (y/n) hums and puts his arms around könig, just enjoying the embrace.

maybe grief isn’t so bad when you have someone there to cry on when you need it.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

new universe - y. welt

summary; while you didn't mind playing hsr, you didn't want to be in hsr!

genre/extra tags; headcanons, isekai! reader, father figure! welt back in action, fluff, angst???

[platonic] [16 years old! reader] [gender neutral! reader]

a/n; never wrote for isekai'd reader but im down to try. this is probably gonna be unintentionally angsty bc idk abt u but no matter what world im waking up in, im gonna lose my shit too.

you played quite a bit of hsr

you had your fair share of liking a bunch of characters, gambling on them just for that 0.001% chance of feeling joy that you finally got that character

and you liked the story and all

but you didn't want anything more than that

so imagine the absolute panic of waking up like you were trailblazer.

march's face near yours sending you into freeze rather than flight or fight

"march step back, give them time. they just woke up."

you literally go through the 5 stages or grief as you slowly realize, oh shit, im not home anymore

and then it sinks in again

and then you start crying.

you're stuck in denial as you cry your eyes out

you're stuck in a fantasy space world where you are just as powerless as a citizen npc and you know there's a bunch of enemies in game that look really painful to deal with

you dont even realize that you've been taken to a room to wallow in peace.

welt's room to be specific.

you calm down after a while, sitting down in embarrassment bc oh fuck you just cried in front of some of your favorite character but to be fair you might be stuck in this world which does almost send into another panic

but welt comes in at the right time

"i'm sorry we didn't wake you when we found you, but we wanted to make sure that you weren't injured. do you remember anything of what happened?" he speaks calmly, making you feel calm in return

"i only remember my name.." you're really lucky to know that you speak the common language in this universe, or maybe they just know it. "i don't know what happened and..." your body shakes, feeling overwhelmed. "i don't know... 'm sorry."

he shakes his head. "you did nothing wrong. we didn't think or account for this. it's okay. it's okay to be scared. we're here to help you."

and it kind of breaks your heart bc you don't think there's a way to get back to your real home.

"would you like to know how we found you?" he hands you some water to drink.

you nod weakly, drinking the water.

and he explains how they found you in a different planet and stuck in a forest. "so you don't remember anything else?"

you hesitate. "i don't..i-" you close your mouth. "i don't think you'd believe me."

"it's okay if you don't want to tell me. but are you sure you don't know where your home is?" at the mention of home, you feel your eyes water.

"my home isn't where you think it is." you whisper weakly.

you don't elaborate and he doesn't expect you to elaborate.

"thank you for telling what you wanted to tell. i'm sure you're still scared and worried. and that's okay. but this does mean, you don't have a home.."

and he ends up taking you in.

you stick with him for a long while. it takes you a long time to get used to everything.

eventually you do get somewhat accustomed to it all.

with welt by your side you feel a bit more safe and less scared.

but on those nights where you remember that your normal is not the normal of this world, you find yourself looking for welt.

it's just silent comfort, just having his presence around you makes you feel better as you lay down by him as if you were a younger kid.

you just let him read his books as you wait for your body to make you sleep.

"thank you welt." you can't help but mutter.

and his reply is just a gentle pat on your head, a sign of him always listening to you and caring for you.

[littlemut]

my main grief with LGTS 👠👠 (huge spoilers ahead)

i finally finished the game yesterday and although i all in all liked it a lot i really don’t get why it is so punitive. till. the. very. end(s).

after restarting it TWO times (one time because i couldn’t possibly know beforehand how niggardly they would be with money/food/resources, and the other time because i couldn’t get the windmill key from Eugen😒💢🗝️) and going through all those witch hour trials i am left with the feeling that you never really get to win.

YES you do get the sweet lesbian good ending with your sweetheart of choice, but that basically nullifies — in terms of reward for the player — all your hard effort during those sleepless nights going around getting pecked by birds, chased by phantoms and carriage-goat demons. with the lesbian endings, you never get to the bottom of any of the mysteries and you mostly live in an ignorant lovey-dovey bliss 🕊️💕

the apostasy ending — where you get to the bottom of the cave notes mystery and all the priest attempts at summoning Walpurga — still doesn’t feel rewarding, as the witch kills you just when you were almost about to bring Father Hans’ misdeeds to light — so despite getting SUPER CLOSE to uncovering the truth behind Kiefeberg’s mysteries, you still lose.

both the kiss ending and the motherly cocoon ending are yet another win for Walpurga — in the kiss you become one with her (accompanied by crazy-unmei-talk Rozenmarine) in the woods, while in the other she essentially takes your place, embodying an Elise that’s no longer the player. so again. you lose.

the auto da fe ending doesn’t need more explaining than “you just get burned at the stake” like the witch you are. and again it makes sense as a bad ending (also because you get that if you didn’t succeed in getting and placing the token of love from your sweetheart, thus punishing your inability to create at least one true strong bond 💖)

what im trying to say is that — although all these endings make sense and are totally fine endings by themselves — you finish the game multiple times and you never get to defeat Walpurga, nor Him. and honestly i wouldn’t have minded so much not getting to defeat the witch. but what i would’ve loved to see — something that would really reward the player for all the (sometimes very annoying and frustrating) trials you go through — is an ending where you defeat Ozzy, where you get to somehow outwit the devil himself. because — as Elise — you are different from the golden girls who have gone through this path in the past. as Elise, you are a not-entirely-human girl generated through Holle’s wish with the help of the devil himself on the soil and with a doe of Walpurga’s land (and in this instance, Walpurga could have even chosen to become an ally of yours, forming some sort of contract with Elise so as to get closer to her again and also banish Him out of the woodlands with Elise’s help! — all things she said she wanted for so long). so you’re really not just another human girl making a deal with the devil. and even if you don’t get to win because “you’re born special”, you still should get to have at least one (1) ending where (as the player) you can triumph after all the hard work you put in to see this through the very very end. it could’ve been the hardest ending to get. but it would have been an absolute triumph of the MC. 🏆 a triumph i still think she deserved. (yes, Elise can be very selfish and self-entitled, but she has shown multiple times that she also has a big heart 🫀)

don’t get me wrong, i still love this game ❤️ (despite the very MANY frustrating bits and the unskippable cutscenes & dialogues right before the annoying part you just tried 7 times to get right 💢💢💢) — i just feel like Elise really deserved an ending where she gets to the bottom of the Walpurga mystery (à la Pentiment, where yet again it’s a priest who’s found out to be the one behind it all lmao) AND gets to defeat Strange Boy thanks to the strength of her character (and maybe the peculiarity of her birth circumstances too) — a quality that the game itself so often kept reminding the player of.

TL;DL Lebkuchen best girl ⛪️💙

[mirusx]

does anyone grasp the depth of grief, persistence, and hope all at the same time from these supposedly just system notifications? please bear with me and my incoherence bcs i might actually be losing my mind????? i apologize in advance

[Story, --, has begun its storytelling once more.]

[Story, --, is continuing on with its storytelling.]

and then kindly replace those '--' with a story like "Life and Death Companions" or other stories affiliated with kdj and kimcom.

Orv has repeatedly emphasized how people are stories and how we are all just stories trying to understand each other. Seeing these 'stories' that were made from kdj and other's connection trying to continue on and starting once more evoke emotions deep inside me. Because Kdj and every member of kimcom live on through these 'stories', they embody the stories that they obtain. They're the ones who want to continue on and to begin once more. Because 'once more' implies that it has already come to an end at one time, and 'continuing on' means persevering despite of.

like resisting permanent death.

It's like no matter what catastrophe befall the world or the universe and how long these stories and connections may stay dormant, they will always awaken once someone remembers them. Once someone speaks of them. It's like how people have this irrational fear of being forgotten, and so being remembered, being told, and being shared just like a story somehow realize our existences. And we all know that these system notifications appear when the people involved in the story are wielding their shared story/experience to get through something(scenarios) or to someone(between themselves) and hope that the stories they've created are good enough to be acknowledged. Whenever the system narrates a story— one, both, or all of the parties included in the story want to be seen, recognized, and understood as we all crave to be good enough to continue being somebody in at least someone's story— in someone's life. It's like our souls despairing and rejoicing at the same time, "i'm here! i'm still here. i'm still continuing on. our story's still existing.", pleading to be read.

and so once someone recognizes our story, connected with us, and understood us— our story continues on despite of, and it begins once more even when it might have ceased at one point. It tells this new story of not being forgotten

and how our existences— our already written stories, always endure. just like theirs.

....the grief, the persistence, and the hope of it all.

[Story, Life and Death Companions, has begun its storytelling once more.]

[Story, Life and Death Companions, is continuing on with its storytelling.]

fuck did this even make sense im so sorry. i just really needed to get this off my head, it's rotting my brain

[kiwibongos]

im writing Something for a little fic and i was putting stuff in my notes for later on and it really just made me realize like how fucked up hajime is after all the Horrors. like, emotionally. him rediscovering emotions entirely. (maybe someone has talked abt this before, i just wanna store this here)

because when he's less of a hollow shell, all there is is grief and guilt in his brain. but then as time goes on, he slowly rediscovers what it means to be human, and learns these feelings again one by one. and it has to be such an agonizing process too ? and when they do happen, theyre all extremely overwhelming, out of the blue, and most likely even caused by really small things. my dude will eat a stale piece of bread or even smell expired dairy products, suddenly relearn disgust and feel ABSOLUTELY nauseous and just hurl over lmaoo

but for as for more serious topics, like properly feeling anger again, it'd be ticked off by little shit, bc he doesn't wanna lose control like that cause the frustration doubles. it'd get bad when he makes a mistake too. he'd freak the hell out, because izuru was the embodiment of perfection, of every talent cultivated into one single brain, so he *cant* mess up, but its too much for him to handle cause he's so used to being under that obligation and expectation, but now that he's losing his stability over all that, when he messes up just *slightly*, he feels ashamed and tries to fix it as fast as possible, whether or not its a big deal. itd definitely be really hard to get out of the mindset that, even though hes not izuru anymore, he has to be perfect. to him, he has to stay that way. cause if he fails at all, then he can't protect his friends anymore. does that make sense. the pressure would be literally crushing

also shock/surprise/excitement. everything was predictable and boring to him as izuru, so obviously all of that is still a huge issue that still lingers within him after the simulation, so he'd probably overcome that first and be caught off guard a lot bc, well, he's learning to be hajime again, he's not *exactly* the op superhuman genius anymore (in my head at least. cause when two minds practically mash together weirdly it creates a horrible hit-or-miss concoction lol) so even basic things become brand new to him, and hes fascinated and curious by everyone and everything. not like hes never seen it before, but its like hes experiencing it for the first time, even if its just mundane tasks in life, new methods and alternatives to things, etc. he's generally a very observant guy, and would also pick up on little traits and habits from all his friends. i have the feeling people would rub off on him extremely easily

love, serenity and happiness itself would be extremely hard to tackle and learn, or even notice? i think of so many scenarios of how this could happen. cause like sure he can feel joy, he can be glad, proud, relieved, and smile because his friends are there. but he's still yet to experience what happiness truly is, what it means to him, and it's not something he can do alone. so it just takes a while for that big boom to happen. perhaps its up to interpretation how it happens, go for it idc i have alot of scenarios stirring up in my brain, but overall, i think him actually bursting with happiness and feeling genuine peace within himself, and realize hes grateful for the life he has, and the future he got to choose, would probably be caused in the process of moving to jabberwock island. just seeing all his friends on the boat and knowing they've made it this far, and theyre going to be starting a new life on this island, and that theyre safe, would be enough to just like hit him. like Ough. and thats when he actually consciously realizes that he's happy, when every other waking moment, there's been some kind of empty pit in his stomach eating at him for so long

on top of all of this, he cant really control his emotions very well, either. thats also another massive con to all of it, and a downside of relearning these things because of how strongly they came swinging back. its alot to handle. even if theres so much knowledge packed in his brain, one little thing like that could be enough to make him bluescreen. so he ends up just going on autopilot or stuffing all of it away, just to make the bad stuff stop. (it becomes a very unhealthy habit that bites him in the ass later. everyone is mad at him for not taking care of himself. hajime is then swaddled into a blanket with a kiss on the forehead)

anyway theres probably more to add and id get into the nitty gritty of specific shit but i had to impulsively dump this here so might as well put up the basics. makes me so excited to work on this fic more, even if its in a more somber, different context, i just love to think about hajime and how he works through his emotions and picking up his old traits. yknow, being himself. but at the same time he isn't doing it alone. let my boy be happy. let him find himself again and move on from izuru

[crguang]

Hi, I've been reading your fanfics lately and I've become obsessed with your writing! I'm not good at English so I keep to myself.

I wanted to share my feelings, because I think you should know what a great job you do! Not only did you make me have a different perspective on Kafka, you also made me see character development more clearly! (I also write a lot, and it's one of my difficulties.)

It's incredible how his stories gave me an addictive feeling, something I haven't seen in any other Kafka fanfic! Please keep it up!

In fact, I have ideas in my head about how Kafka would react to R's death? Or what exactly would make her cry? I wonder, and I think your point of view would be quite accurate.

first of all, don’t worry about your english!! it’s great, and it’s not my first language either so i understand the struggle. thank you for your kind words i cant believe my writing has inspired/helped you in any way, im especially happy it changed your mind about Kafka hehe. trust meee i understand how tough characterization is, i focus way too much on the details and it can get pretty frustrating. i take it seriously too, so when something doesn’t go my way or i can’t portray a scene the way i see it in my mind, i lose it a little bit.

ouhhh, kafka and death is a pretty intimate affair in my opinion. she deals with it all the time but we don’t know if she’s experienced it— she sees suffering as something euphoric, fascinating. we know she doesn’t care for her victims because of it, that and the fact that she’s following what she truly believes is destiny. if it was their destiny to die by her hand, why would she mourn? i think it would take a lot to make her cry, she’s very resilient and can withstand a lot + she doesn’t feel fear and there are lots of complex emotions born from it (anxiety, dread, panic) so in my opinion she’s not very attuned to these as well. i’ll expand on the “not feeling fear” thing because its absolutely insane; its a primal instinct that makes us do or not do so many things. it’s connected to so many other emotions— we feel sad because we fear losing people, we feel helpless because we fear not being good enough, etc. kafka wouldn’t be able to understand all of that in a visceral way. we know she worries to an extent (for the trailblazer, for blade) and that also stems from fear but so far, it’s been somewhat superficial. she checks up on them like once and that’s that. here again, following and believing in a scripted future makes it so that she doesnt have much to worry about. it makes me believe that she would often realize things after they’ve happened, like “oh, i don’t like this…”

losing someone she genuinely cares about might paralyze her, at least at first. death doesn’t obsess her because fear is self-preservation and she cant feel that. she is logical though, and knows not to put herself/others in certain dangerous situations. she doesn’t fear her s/o dying, she just knows she doesn’t want it to happen. what she can feel though is sadness, and that only happens during/after the fact. grief is soo complex, that’s why i think it would paralyze her afterwards— she’d feel this immense loss that she hasn’t prepared for, and kafka is rarely caught by surprise. she wouldn’t know what to do and her logic won’t save her; so many things don’t matter when you’re dealing with emotions that feel all-consuming, she knows death is inevitable, so what? she knows this was always a possibility, so what? that doesn’t tell her how to deal with it. she’d go through the motions as usual because life didn’t stop for her but she’d have this constant tightness in her chest like fingers curled around her heart. the tears would find her on a tuesday morning as she’s cleaning her gun or putting on her boots. to me, her feelings have a little lag; she doesn’t feel apprehension much so they would have to hit her afterwards. in my most recent fic im writing about her being a player for laughs but i still make her fall for the reader at the same time they fall for her, she just realizes it way later. this is long as hell im so sorry but to sum up i do think she would cry a lot because she almost never does and her body would need the relief.

im yapping im sorry😭 your question was super interesting and it really got me thinking but let me stop lmfao. i hope i kinda answered it along the way😭

[elvisabutler]

i think there's still a few hours left for your gala, right?? 👁 if so, id like to request 💻 the angst prompt "no, im actually not ok," w austin.. maybe some h/c after the oscars? 🥺🙏

i don't know what i'm feeling

fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: g, t if you really squint. pairing: austin butler x gender neutral reader word count: 802 warnings: austin being sad post oscars. talk about the oscars. talk about the whale. author’s note: thank you anon and you were right i did have a few more hours when you sent this to me and was hoping someone would allow me the chance to do a hurt and comfort with this. full disclosure to everyone, i said it once before, if austin was going to lose to anyone, i did want it to be brendan because i was iffy on colin. however, i despise of the whale as a movie- and truly wish brendan had won for literally anything else. so do not take anything i have austin say as my own opinion on the movie itself. i hate it. this is for my 1k gala with the angst prompt of “no, i’m actually not ok.” and saints preserve me i'll live in my universe where i made this boy drunkenly say to his girl some nasty sexy things post oscar. also i'm not the biggest fan of this but i can't tell if that's purely because i'm in my own head about it or not. still hope you enjoy. also i didn't mess up my word count for the third time in all my gala pieces, what are you talking about.

It's an honor to be nominated. It's an honor to be put in the same league as actors who've been in the business for decades. It's an honor to be nominated along someone who's going to grow with him in their crafts. If he was going to lose to anyone everyone had said it was going to be him or Brendan and damn if he didn't think the man deserved it. The Whale was tough to watch but it was good- it was the sort of thing that earned an actor their Oscar. He shouldn't be- He shouldn't be feeling the way he does. Bill didn't get a single award all season and Colin went from a frontrunner with him to the afterthought along with Paul.

He can't even talk about this with Barry because it was always Ke's one to lose and he wasn't going to. Maybe Angela- but hadn't hers been wrapped in the grief from losing Chadwick. He still can't believe he heard Samuel L Jackson make a noise for him of all people behind him. He should be happy, this is the start of him finally making a difference. Making his fans proud and happy for him like Elvis. Making his mom proud that all her work wasn't for nothing. Making Lisa and Priscilla proud wasn't for nothing but why does he feel as if it was in this moment. Why is his brain just telling him this is how it starts? He'll have this whirlwind of three years and then three projects back to back to back only to have nothing afterward. Angela feels him tense a little- she must have because she looks at him and squeezes his hand once again before nodding over to you.

You- you can help ease his mind, once you're in the car he'll talk to you, whisper in your ear how this was not how he thought this night would go. His eyes meet yours and you smile gently before shrugging a little. He watches your lips mouth "love you" before he focuses on the last of the awards. It's a bit of organized chaos leaving the theater and it almost seems as if there's just an Elvis line of people walking around hand in hand like a bunch of kindergarteners before Austin and you finally get into a car and you squeeze his hand. "You okay?"

If it was anyone else, if it was Baz or Liv or Catherine or Kelvin or Luke- if it was anyone he'd lie. But you deserve the truth in a way that very few people do in this circumstance. "No, I'm actually not. I- I don't even know what I'm feeling. I'm mad but I shouldn't. I was nominated for an Oscar. I used to dream about this. I almost won an Oscar!"

"You have a Golden Globe! And a BAFTA!" You remind him, your voice matching his in volume before your hand moves to cup his cheek. There's a wet bit that you brush away with your thumb. "You're allowed to feel something, Austin. It doesn't make you a bad person or take away from Brendan's win because I know you, I know we're going to go the party and you're gonna see him and he's gonna give you a big dad hug and you're gonna gush. And you're gonna bounce up and down with Ke and make sure Baz doesn't drink too much because Catherine asked you too."

The laugh that bubbles up from him is wet sounding, covered in unshed tears as he sniffles. "Forgot how I'm gonna tell Luke about Polly making me do some moves for party tricks. And how Kelvin is going to remind me to-"

"Chill out?" You finish like that's actually what Austin was going to say before he shakes his head, allowing himself to just rest his head in your hand.

"Something like that. I just thought- I let my hopes get up." Austin whispers and you frown.

"No one blames you for that, you know. I don't. Tell you what. When we get to the party, how about we just sit in the car for a little bit until you calm down. And then when we get there, we just relax. Just for a little bit until you stop hurting so much. I'll shoo away the cameras with my charm." Austin raises an eyebrow knowing that isn't always how things go with you and him.

"Yeah? No fighting that'll get us both in trouble?"

"Pinky swear." You hold out your pinky as you move to kiss Austin. "Now, how about we focus on our plans for after tonight. I believe someone promised me a vacation?"

Austin's answer is a hum before he gives you another kiss. "How do you feel about the mountains?"

[cheshirecatuniverse]

I'll Crawl Home to You (Cobra)

Cobra (Hino Junpei) x Reader

Song: Cool People - Chloe x Halle

Summary: Cobra is haunted by the past and swarmed by the worries of the future. He remembers what has happened and the lives before his own. One thing is certain in every lifetime, he doesn't want to lose you.

WC: 2k

Notes: my works can be gorey, violent, and other mature themes! im fully recovered from my ear infection yaya - sorry this took so long 💔 inception reference if you find it. yes this is hozier coded. NOT EDITED IM SORRY.

When it gets too quiet, Cobra starts to remember. It can come in waves, but each and every feeling is just as strong as the next. It reaches to every nerve of his body, completely enveloping from his soul to his fingertips.

Then, things start to change. He can feel his hands get cold, then almost frozen. Snowflakes slowly descend on the tips of his ears and hair.

When Cobra opens his eyes he's surrounded by abandoned buildings, there are echoes of things he can't understand. Voices of children laughing, men in pain, or animals crying out in the night. Wood snapping, glass shattering, or metal creaking. Whatever it was, it was all forgotten to the world.

Cobra began to walk, his feet carrying him somewhere based on instinct. He stopped at an open space, when he did he realized he couldn't remember how he came to be here. Cobra saw in the distance a figure on the ground and he walked over to it.

The snow disguised his grey hair, blanketed in white for eternity. Even with discolored eyes and lips, Smokey was distinguishable. Cobra hated the fact his eyes were wide open.

Smokey fought bravely, and Smokey died.

Still, no matter how much chaos and blood that entered their lives he couldn't stand to look at the corpse.The familiar feeling bubbling in himself, the only other time it appeared was when he saw Tatsuya on that cold metal table. The day he realized what made any of this worth it, and that no one was safe.

Cobra crouched, reached over to Smokey and shut his eyes. It was a horrible reminder of that this was inevitable. While Cobra thought he had learned that from Tatsuya, Smokey made him see that he still didn't completely get it. Cobra let his ally rest, he deserved it. But Cobra couldn't, not when he had people waiting for him.

Cobra saw you, a strained smile with beautiful eyes. The images of you in his mind made him jerk up from the ground.

Pain, Cobra was in pain.

Even without any promises made to you, he felt his heart sink. He remembered the only voicemail you left that day. Your voice wavering and strained, Cobra could hear the silent tears. His own eyes stinging while he stood at Smokey's grave.

That was the most fear Cobra had ever felt in his entire life. Not when Noboru had a gun pointed at him or when he was ready to suffocate in cement.

The quiet grief around the grave, while he stood back with his phone pressed against his ear. As he listened to your words, completely alone.

Without Smokey, without Tatsuya, without Sannoh, without you.

As Cobra was shaking, he screwed his eyes shut and he let the cold air in.

But his hands no longer had his frozen phone and felt something soft under his fingers.

The warmth in his body rose, much more comfortable in his skin. He felt something tickle his face.

Cobra sneezed, and after he opened his eyes to a warm blue sky. Tall grass gently moved in the wind with tree branches that loomed above him. Cobra pushed himself up, palms pressed against the cold soil and grass.

When he sat up he heard a small fit of laughter, hidden well enough that he thought he imagined it. But you peeked your eyes out, the bottom half of your face hidden behind his shoulder. You seemed to laugh again at the look on his face and shuffled over him.

Straddled over his lap, you smiled. Now Cobra could completely process it was you. He cupped your face, hypnotized in your eyes.

"Hi," He breathed, feeling the fresh air give him an odd sense of security.

"Caught you," You kissed him briefly. The feeling bringing a warmth in chest back he didn't know he lost. A fever that he was so eager to feel again. "I think you wanted me to find you."

"I always want you with me," Cobra quietly told you. He felt his anxieties melt away.

As you lifted yourself up, he noticed you were in an unfamiliar white dress. You were also barefoot, not something he'd imagined you'd be in the dirt. The bright sun completely shined over you as you left the shade the trees gave. You basked in light, head tilted up with your eyes closed.

Cobra scrambled up, trying to pace himself over to you. But you both knew the eagerness in his touch, he glowed at the feeling of running his hands against your hair.

"Do me a favor?" You asked and tucked your head in the crook of his neck.

"What is it?"

You hummed, taking your time, "Hold me."

Cobra immediately did, all sense of confusion was gone. You were here, humming in a state of tranquility. It felt as normal as the sound of the leaves and the birds chirping. Even standing, he could have fallen asleep like this.

But the hums stopped, and your voice cracked. "Just hold me."

The rustling of a thousand leaves sounded louder, deeper, until he started to hear water. Cobra heard the chittering of birds turn to cries. He couldn't feel the long grass swaying against his lower legs anymore.

Cobra looked up, seagulls flying high above. The strong smell of salt and humidity filled his senses. The ground rocking under his feet, and your shivering body with him. The ragged and loose clothes on you made Cobra look at his own, which were the same.

Your nails were on the verge of cutting his skin. Cobra moved his hands over yours and grimaced. It wasn't because of the pain.

"I'm sorry," He told you, "I got you dragged into this."

"Do you love me?" You asked.

His mouth hung open at that, "Yes. Yes."

You looked down at the ground, smiling. The deep crescents on his skin were gently touched by your calmer hands.

Cobra peered over the edge of the boat, watching the water break against the hull. The sun was beating down on him, reminding him of what he had to do. Even in the burning heat, he didn't want to think about himself.

You were lingering back, looking at the horizon.

"Downwards is…" You whispered.

Cobra turned around, "What?"

Again, your hand gripped into his arm. A look of complete panic took over your features. Cobra shook his head in confusion, his stomach dropping for reasons he couldn't understand.

He couldn't feel the floor under his feet. Only when he sank under the ocean did he realize he was falling. Deep, into the bottomless ocean, where his ears pounded loudly and saltwater began to fill his lungs. But only when Cobra couldn't feel you with him was when he began to struggle against the water.

Where were you? Where were you? Cobra wanted to scream. He couldn't lose another person. He couldn't lose you. There was no point of any of it if he couldn't come back to you.

Through blurred eyes, Cobra saw your figure drifting way below. With no hesitation, he pushed his body down. He swam as fast as he could, the pounding in his ears getting louder. Cobra would never let you reach the bottom of the abyss.

When the shadows started to darken over you, it was Cobra who brought you to the light. He had an arm around your torso and with all of his will he pushed to the surface.

He gasped for air and with his arm around you, he couldn't tell if you were awake. Cobra moved his arm against you, trying to see if you would respond. The waves crashing against the both of you made the struggle worse. He had to get you to shore before the sea would overcome you two.

Cobra couldn't even notice the way he could see his breath, puffs visible in the air. The water dripping from his hair was freezing. It didn't even matter, he needed to get you to safety.

With every ounce of his power and will, he swam to a shore he saw from the distance. Every second was torture, not knowing whether he was dragging your corpse or your unconscious self.

Cobra gritted his teeth at the aching thoughts swarming his mind. When he pushed your body up the rocky shore, he lurched up after you.

His heart shattered at the sight of your closed eyes.

Cobra called your name, again and again. He grabbed your shoulder, shaking you roughly in panic. Slowly, he felt himself struggling to breathe. Much more painful than being in the water.

Then, you arched up. You coughed up seawater on his shirt. Cobra choked on a sob, you were here. You were here with him, you hadn't left him. He held you close while you slowly opened your eyes.

The sky was a dark red, as trees and mountains burned. Still, the air was cold and your drench clothes were freezing.

"Downwards," You mumbled, "is the only way forwards."

Cobra cupped your face with his hands. He shook his head, "Just look at me. Keep your eyes on me."

The world burned and burned. But he held you in his arms.

Cobra gasped for air when he opened his eyes. His heaving chest controlled immediately when felt you on the bed, beside him as always. In the dark, he could see your locs of hair splayed around the pillowcases. The loosely fitted t-shirt and shorts on you, he recognized.

Carefully, he sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. The sound of the electric fan moving from left to right reminded him of where he was.

You were a light sleeper though, it was almost impossible for you not to feel the dip in the bed. The sight of Cobra's back made you pout, only visible because of the streetlight that poured from the window.

You reached for his arm and tugged a few times. The sound of him sighing made you smile, especially when he shuffled back into the thin covers.

Cobra faced you, close enough to feel you breathing. Close enough to press his lips onto yours. You hummed happily against the kiss. When you broke the kiss you could see his eyes in the darkness. Even in the middle of the night, you could tell the tension in his shoulders and the stiffness in his body.

"Did you have that dream again?" You whispered, running your fingers over his lips.

"Dreams," Cobra corrected, but he more muttered it to himself.

"They're just dreams."

"Something always happens." You both knew he wasn't talking about the dreams.

"So?" You ask.

"So? I'm tired of people getting hurt." Cobra turned his body and faced the ceiling.

"Junpei. Look at me. No, Look at me," Your hands on his jaw making him face you.

"Life is gonna hurt," Your voice raspy and groggy with sleep, "You know that and I'm not gonna pretend to know the pain in your life. But no matter what, you're not alone Junpei."

"When you come home, I'll be here." Your face dropped for a moment, "But. Just come home, okay?"

Cobra nodded, of course he could do that. He could do that for the rest of his life.

"I love you. I love you so much," He kissed your forehead. "In this life and the next."

You looked at him and squinted, "Don't even think about proposing at 4am on the sweatiest day of my life. I'll break up with you."

Cobra, full of laughter, pulled you over his body. While you drowsily swatted his chest, he tightened his arms around you.

He hated how long it took him to realize how much wounds you have healed and how much life you could give him.