#beating someone up to protect their lover - gifting them something elaborate - saving them from a burning building - planning an exotic dat

[good-beanswrites]

I wanted to bring up a silly ship idea. Just for fun.

03, 06, 09, 10

Was this before Kotoko attacked them? After? I dunno.

Thoughts?

YES the cringefail 20yo polycule 👏👏👏 Thank you for the request! I've seen a lot about the individual pairs, so it was really fun to think about all their dynamics together! I have a set of hcs that could work in the current canon Milgram, and then a normal au set because it's so fun thinking about them :3

Milgram-focused

The I’m-a-loner-who’s-doing-it-for-justice-don’t-TOUCH-me pair finally meet their match when confronted with the I-loved-someone-so-much-and-don’t-plan-on-stopping pair. They all go into the relationship with grand ideas of love: they think it’s all heroic acts of saving, massive gestures or love, and dramatic confessions. Over time, they realize the real heroism/romance is in the little things. 

Mahiru has her hands full with three people who neglect themselves for the sake of their work/interests, but she always loves feeding them and helping give them what they need. In turn, they can give her more affection and attention than she could ever ask for. They make sure someone is always around to spend time with her.

Each of the three is a perfect match for dealing with John’s reveal. Mahiru is calming and helps tone down Mikoto’s initial stress. Fuuta is honest and will help Mikoto finally confront his own situation and move forward. And since Kotoko can match his strength, Mikoto doesn’t need to be afraid of accidentally hurting anyone. Mikoto becomes less stressed with the overall situation as well as more accepting of himself/John.

I always love the idea that Fuuta is secretly starstruck by Kotoko and John’s strength. He’ll never admit how much he admires their ability to stand up and fight. He feels really safe around them. He’s glad to have the opportunity to fight for someone else, too – he likes to be Mahiru’s self-proclaimed protector and hero. (Even though most of the time she can stand up for herself, she still likes letting him take care of her.)

Kotoko’s experiences let her hold solid conversations with everyone. She’s similar enough to Fuuta where they share some interests (social issues, schooling, etc.) She understands hard work and burnout to earn Mikoto’s respect. She understands physical strength to earn John’s. She has a lot of people-knowledge, so she can gossip and talk about Tokyo life to Mahiru (Mappi’s doing most of the ‘gossiping,’ but Kotoko has solid additions). She's a good listener and has a good memory, so everyone feels heard by her.

They start to rub off on each other. Mahiru and Mikoto learn to be a bit tougher in standing up for herself. Fuuta, John, and Kotoko learn to take a breath before jumping right to violence. They stay very much who they are, but pick up on just a few habits that make their lives easier.

Their styles also influence one another: Fuuta gets pointers from all three about piercing his ears (though it takes him a long time to get up the nerve to do it). Mahiru helps the others dress more trendy and boost their confidence, and they teach her to worry less about her appearance and relax more. 

If they get together T1, Kotoko is shocked by the T1 verdicts. She might pull away from everyone in initial horror, but after developing a relationship ahead of time, she doesn’t follow through with her attacks. If not, then maybe in T3 when Kotoko is suffering from her guilty verdict, Mahiru and Mikoto are able to bridge the gap and develop a friendship, leading to more. Fuuta would take longer to come around, but I think seeing Kotoko got through the same pain as him, his hero instincts would kick in and he’d gradually help. 

Normal-au

Mahiru once again tries out her lovers’ interests, and gets a bunch of new hobbies. Fuuta teaches her to game, she works out with Kotoko, and she tries out photography with Mikoto. She becomes close with Fuuta’s beautician sister, and enjoys bonding over fashion and hair. She helps redye Mikoto’s hair, and give the other two pointers on style now and then. When going to nicer events, she and Mikoto have to step in and stop the others from their sneaker/hoodie combos. As the only one with a license, she’s the designated driver at all events, but doesn’t mind. 

Fuuta uses his tech skills to set up social media accounts for the others. He helps Mahiru network her flower shop, fighting anyone who leaves a bad comment/review. He helps set up a complex online portfolio for Mikoto. He and Kotoko still have a passion for justice, and he becomes the tech brains behind her vigilante operations (very Ron Stoppable - Kim Possible) It’s not necessarily healthy growth, but they’re happy with it lmao

Mikoto is the only full-time worker, the others are all still in university, and he makes sure to keep them all on track. He knows the most efficient tricks and cheats about getting papers done, pulling all-nighters, and cramming before an exam. The others have learned to spot when he’s burning himself out for others, and will stop him when he tries to take on too much. They’ll take care of him and force him to rest. While he can still get into a bit of trouble, John learns to call them first and get some help. 

Kotoko has trained herself to find people and information easily to catch criminals, but she finds use for it in much more mundane ways – she tracks down clients for Mahiru, snoops around Mikoto’s company to make sure he’s being treated right, and keeps an eye out for the people Fuuta is calling out and/or hanging out with. She goes on runs with Mahiru, and bike rides with Mikoto. Fuuta tags along sometimes to strengthen his legs for soccer. 

There’s definitely potential for them all to have their murders pre- or mid- relationship, and they help one another improve themselves and heal. I’m also a sucker for the relationship itself to cause them to change their ways and narrowly avoid the murder in the first place. (For the latter, Mahiru would ironically be the last to join the relationship, since she’d still be with her bf until the other three inspire her to break it off with him gently.)

#milgram #fuuta kajiyama #mahiru shiina #mikoto kayano #john milgram #kotoko yuzuriha #you got a peek at some in the first set but i cleaned them up and finally finished the second set >:3 #thank you for waiting asdfdsf these were really fun to think about :D #im loving the image of the four workout buddies asdfdsf #and id imagine their home is filled with photos as mikoto and mappi take a bunch of everyone :') #even in milgram i can see them snapping lots of shots #i know its harder to swing a post-attack relationship but i do think its possible given how intense everything is #just as prisoners were friends one day in t1 and enemies the next in t2 i think things can change fast #and yeah... im so sappy over them all picturing these massive gestures of love: #beating someone up to protect their lover - gifting them something elaborate - saving them from a burning building - planning an exotic dat #and instead they find that preparing a meal after a long day means the world to them #getting up early to workout and keep them company is huge #remembering little details about them and their interests changes their lives #<333 #OUGH now i just want them to be happy ;---; #headcanon time milgram

[frauleindermorgen]

       Pelleas has never been particularly gifted at hiding his emotions, teeming to the brim as they are wont to be. The entire time he's invited himself over to Micaiah's dorm to spend the night, it is clear he is on edge, a bit distracted. He mistakes the feeling at first for fear, nerves on edge as the minutes while away.

Micaiah's going to go to sleep. She likes to meet the dawn. Will he have enough time? It feels like such a doomed prospect; he feels stupid for even trying. She can probably feel all this nervous energy from him, and that could hardly be fun to deal with, he imagines.

Settled into bed with her but completely unsettled, it's when the clock strikes midnight that he at last can let it out.

“ Happy birthday, Micaiah! ”

A beat passes until realization sets in.

“ ...Ah, that came out a bit louder than I anticipated. Sorry, ”  he quickly apologizes, lowering his voice back to a whisper.  “ I was just so nervous, waiting all this time to make sure I didn't mess up the timing of it... I wanted to be the very first one to tell you that this year, worried if I didn't say it then, you'd wake up before me and go out and then somebody else would beat me to it. But now that I think of it, I guess it was a little silly. I'm glad I did it, but... There was a better way to go about it, probably. ”

He sighs but it turns into an awkward laugh.

“ I'm sorry, really ”  Pelleas repeats.  “ I'll let you sleep soon, I promise, but can you hold still for me for a little bit? ”

He climbs out of her bed and reaches for his bag that he had brought his spare change of clothes in, fishing out a hair pin. It is black save for the sight of a tourmaline spider lily decorating it, and when he returns to her, he fumbles as he fixes it into place at the side of her fringe, letting the moonlight catch the gemstones in it. 

“ There. My birthday gift to you. I remember you in Midsommar looking at something like this. You said it was cute. ”  He knows it had been in reference to her trying to find an accessory that looked good on him rather than her, but looking at her with it on now, he can't imagine himself comparing at all to her with it.

His expression melts as he does his usual spiel.  “ The spider lily... it's a flower with bad omens. I know I shouldn't have given it to you, knowing that, but most people fear it because it blooms where death does. But do you know why it does that?

“ The spider lily is given to protect someone in death. It's supposed to save you from curses and bad spirits, and it carries with it a hope that when you are reborn, you shall be safe and sound. ”  Death is inevitable, this flower cries, but it still tries valiantly in the face of that.

He rejoins her, sitting down on the edge of her bed.  “ There's a story with it too. I won't tell you all that now, but... I suppose the way you can think of it is that it also is meant to tell your lover, 'I want to run away with you.' ”

He lets that meaning sit with her, worried anything that he said would ruin it. Instead of elaborating on it further, he merely smiles warmly at her, not wishing to wish for too much from her.

“ It really is pretty on you... But anyway, happy birthday again, Micaiah. I'm glad I got to tell you again... ”

For who knows when the last time he'll be able to do so shall be?

Birthdays are a truly unique part of her Garreg Mach experience, as are the many trinkets she has collected in relation: the handmade rose-embroidered cloth and gloves from Elincia, Soren’s bracelet of interlocking birds, as well as Pelleas’s pouch inside of which is the matching ribbon and a few pressed flowers: all are kept inside a wood box Micaiah had bought for herself still only half-believing the need for it. It sits on a shelf beside the journal from Lachesis, near filled now, next to the mysterious “fountain pen” and her favored quill.

Sometimes she gets distracted just looking at them all – she never did know what to think of others’ admiration of material possessions outside of what was immediately useful but looking at each, memories rising up warm as ever, she finds she is now much closer to some understanding.

Tonight she is finishing a paper she has been persistently editing for her class on Neo-Politics in the Leicester Alliance – a topic she finds fascinating, but is apparently quite controversial with some of those native to Fodlan, and so she feels near cross-eyed from fact checking each source though she will get it done.

Pelleas had helped her a great deal in the days leading up to the final submission, but now she wants to look at the flaws on her own; which is to say, she is perfectly happy to have him in her room wrapped in her bedsheets but she will be doing this final check alone.

He doesn’t seem to mind, at least not unduly – the nervous energy coming off of him is just that, frenetic rather than hurt and as Micaiah makes herself one more cup of strong tea she really cannot quite tell who’s nerves she is picking up on.

“Alright,” she says finally, when she feels a headache non-caffeine related coming on, “I’ve done all I can. If any of the old guard from the Kingdom or Alliance, or goddess forbid my own house leader, wish to debate me I will simply take it in stride.”

Saying this she finally begins to get ready for bed as she has announced she would at least an hour ago, falling into it a bit dramatically knowing Pelleas will be there to catch her – and this too, is dangerous, falling without looking; with nothing to catch her but that trust but just like the transient warmth she feels every time she looks at reminders of her “birth” it feels too good to give up.

She’d like to take this moment back too alongside her gifts to the palace. To know the same moonlight there might blanket their embrace, though the stars might change; she thinks to bring it up actually, drifting in her thoughts, when Pelleas speaks first.

(Or shouts?  He’s certainly excited, but just as Pelleas’s emotion ebb and flow in such a unique way so too does his tone of voice. It’s never bothered her so authentic as it is).

“I told you I’m always happy to hear it, didn’t I?” She chuckles, rising to a seated position as he does the same.

She lets Pelleas’ words come into being, one rolling over the next with the same burble as a river and finds herself smiling wider – so that’s what he had been thinking! She never would have guessed. (Perhaps forgetting your own birthday was another birthday tradition, she will have to ask when she finds someone who might be knowledgeable regarding such a thing).

Micaiah holds still, and doesn’t mention he needn’t have worried about being the first to greet her – because as used to walking in the morning as she was, she hadn’t planned on leaving him, the sun being as good a blanket as the moon in her opinion. She sees the gem only for a moment before he pins it to her hair but the shape of the flower is familiar from her reading and finds herself nodding along.

“Mm… you know it’s rather fitting being the Priestess of Yune and a Branded myself that I should be given something called ominous, I think. It’s no less beautiful for it.”

Rebirth, he mentions; and as gladdened as she is by the rest of his speech the hope in her eyes dwindles only a bit - is that what will happen to you, she thinks? Will your soul have enough to go on? Or would her own desires and the spirits tie him down… she wonders, placing the guardian flower in his own hair for a moment just to see how it looks.

“I thought I had been doing my own research, but you always know so much! I like that, a flower meant to protect from death despite what an insurmountable object that is; I’ve read too you can plant spider lilies around rice paddies and other vegetables to keep them safe from mice or other pests. I suppose they’re always protecting us in some way then…”

She takes the pin from him again, and reaches over him to place it on the desk before pulling him back down with her; “I’m confused about one thing though, Pelleas,” she chortles, “shall we run away together now or shall we go to sleep?”

Daein was too cold a climate for spider lilies to flourish, but she wants to see them with her own eyes, hand in hand with Pelleas if she can. And she tells him this – uncaring for this one moment, that she has tied him to her once again with another promise, as for now she can feel his warmth. She cannot put that in a box, but she will remember.

#pirrhyc #;answered #event;birthday2023 #//hi my other bday replies wont be almost 1000 words. this is ns fault i say (it's not) #//anyway ur other micapell drabble made me weep so im glad she didnt get thAT for her birthday. the timelines.... the timelines in RD... #//i like writing domesticity. :meow_tehe: so for now i stay sane. for now #//sending a curveball when u dont expect it tho so quick duck

[angelsunflowers-fanfics]

[Borderlands] Rhys Strongfork x Female!Secretary!reader x Timothy Lawrence WIP

Genre: ?

Linktree

~~~~

It had been 7 years since Handsome Jack’s death; the first time with the vault hunters and the second with Rhys having to rip out his cybernetics. It’s been hard for everyone, all the trauma and stress that they’ve been through. 

Not to mention the nightmares that Rhys tended to get from time to time. But luckily for the new CEO of Atlas, he had (y/n), his secretary and best friend of multiple years. 

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get through everything that he had from the last 6ish years without (y/n). That’s for certain. And it didn’t hurt that she knew a thing or two about fighting. 

But currently, Rhys had a very important meeting.

He didn't want to scare (y/n) about who was currently on his way right now. Though, Rhys didn’t exactly know of (y/n)'s vault hunting past. 

She did try to tell him on more than one occasion, but he always thought that she was joking. 

Even after saving Rhys multiple times, he still had an urge to protect (y/n). 

"Okay, that's it. What's going on? You've been looking nervous all morning…  Well, more so than usual," (y/n) said with worry.

Rhys frowned at the comment but still kept the identity of his meeting a secret. Instead of answering (y/n)'s question, he idly sipped on the coffee she just brought to him and waited.

"Someone's coming, and I need you not to freak out." Rhys said, as he tried to be discreet with this information. (y/n) rested a hand on one of her hips and gave Rhys a playful glare.

"You mean like what you're doing?" She questioned as she leaned in close to him, too close. He could smell the vanilla scent on her skin and felt just how warm she was.

Just the thought of (y/n) being so close to his own body made Rhys rethink the entire meeting.

Of course, he always had an infatuation with her. How could he not?

(y/n)'s soft and sweet but at the same time knew how to kick some ass if needed.

But before he could either kiss her delicious lips or cancel the meeting altogether, the elevator stopped on the final floor. 

Rhys glanced at his monitor and saw the person he's supposed to be meeting with. His hands shook with nervousness. Rhys never thought that he would have to deal with someone like him again.

Like Handsome Jack, but it wasn’t not Jack. He died, twice. Rhys made sure of that.

Seeing that Rhys was in his little world and that he wasn't going to answer them, (y/n) continued with small tasks around the office while Rhys anxiously waited for the person on his monitor to walk to his office. 

As (y/n) started to hum a tune to calm down Rhys, she decided to make a cup of tea for him in hopes of relaxing his nerves before this big meeting.

But then (y/n) heard a voice she’d never thought she would ever hear again. A voice that is eerily similar to that of Handsome Jack’s but just a twinge of nervousness and anxiety: Timothy Lawrence, the man that (y/n) loved when they used to work together. Though, that kind of love never truly disappears. 

(y/n) didn't want to say anything in the case that this doppelgänger could be someone other than Timothy, her Timothy. 

Rhys tore his gaze from his ‘guest’ for a second and saw a look he could only describe as hope cross (y/n)’s features. His eyebrows narrowed in confusion. He can’t understand why (y/n) would express any emotion except fear for the man only ten feet away. 

But before Rhys could casually tell (y/n) to leave, before anything happened, (y/n) dropped a packet of sugar on the ground thus alerting her presence to the doppelgänger. 

Timothy felt his heart skip a few beats at the sight of his beloved from what felt like a lifetime ago. (y/n), his partner in more than just vault hunting. 

“(y/n)?” Timothy almost whispered her name.

Without being able to help herself and fully well-knowing that the doppelgänger in front of her very eyes was the one and only Timothy Lawrence, (y/n) ran straight into him. She barely gave him any time to register the extra weight added onto him as she launched herself into his arms, happy to finally see the man she had presumed dead years ago right in front of her own eyes. 

“I-I can’t believe you’re here. I thought you were dead,” (y/n) mumbled, her face nuzzled into the crook of Timothy’s neck as she tried to soak in everything new about him to compare what she knew of him 7 years ago. 

While the two ex-vault hunters were busy embracing each other and catching up, Rhys slowly stood from his desk: shocked. He wasn't aware of how the two knew each other.

Timothy let his real hand caress the side of his old lovers’ face. He didn't know what their relationship was anymore, it had been too long to possibly know. 

“… You thought I was dead? You don’t think I blame you, do you?” Timothy questioned her, eyes trained on her for any visible signs of emotion that he could pick up.

(y/n) bit on her bottom lip in guilt. Timothy always could read her like a book. 

She did feel guilty of not looking too deeply for him. But it wasn't like Jack was going to tell her anything. 

“I mean, I would. I wanted to look for you but… there weren’t any leads or a trace to where you were…” (y/n) explained.

Timothy slowly set (y/n) onto her own feet before he grabbed both of her hands in a gentle grasp, wanting his point to get across in the best way, “There wasn’t anything you could do. You of all people knew how Jack was.” 

Timothy was true to his word, he couldn't blame her for Jack’s wrongdoings. It wouldn’t make any sense. 

Now that (y/n) was in front of him instead of right in his arms, Timothy could get a good, long look at her. His eyes slowly raked over her circle skirt that rested around her waist and the cute professional long-sleeved she was currently wearing. Timothy had never seen (y/n) wearing something like this. But it would be a lie to himself if he said that he didn’t adore her in that outfit. 

One of his hands released its grasp to trail the fabric, his fingers grazed against her waist which caused (y/n) to shudder lightly though this was not Timothy’s intention. He slowly rubbed his fingers around the fabric, trying to understand her new life in every aspect. 

“You look amazing,” Timothy complimented.

(y/n) toyed with her skirt lightly, this was the outfit that she normally wore, but she never pictured herself in it if she were to ever meet Timothy again. 

“I never thought that you’d be the secretary type, but it suits you,” Timothy elaborated from his previous comment.

Before overthinking and backing out, Timothy leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. He didn't want to outright kiss her properly if she wasn't ready or in a romantic relationship with someone else. 

(y/n) opened her mouth to continue talking, perhaps about their relationship, but Rhys finally decided to intervene as it seemed the two completely forgot about why they were all there. Rhys cleared his throat a bit obnoxiously, he had been standing there for the last few minutes watching them embrace each other. 

(y/n) realized that she should probably formally introduce the two as that is kind of her job, "Timothy, this is the CEO of Atlas, Rhys Strongfork." (y/n) turned to Rhys for the first time in 5 minutes and caught the expression on his face before he was able to cover it with a mask: Confusion and perhaps jealousy. But she continued, "Rhys, this is Timothy. We were partners in vault hunting… and lovers." Rhys felt his heart drop. He knew that look in Timothy's eyes, it was the same way he looked at (y/n) every day. 

He should've figured everything out the second (y/n) leapt into the doppelgänger's arms like that. And the way she was smiling like she didn't have any more worries anymore… Rhys had never seen her smile quite like that before.

“(y/n), can you go get breakfast for me and our guest, please?” Rhys politely ordered (y/n).

(y/n) quickly snapped out of her gaze with Timothy before she smiled at Rhys and left the office as soon as she’s able. Though she did shoot Timothy one last flustered glance on her way out. Timothy takes a few deep breaths to calm the flush on his face and the beating of his heart.

Everything happening was so unexpected. Moxxi did say that there was a surprise at Atlas, but he thought she was just talking about a new hand, not his lover from nearly a decade ago. 

Though after 7 years of being trapped in what Timothy could only describe as hell, it seemed fitting that the universe would gift him something like this.

"I’ve never seen her that happy before…” Timothy shook himself out of his daydream at the sound of the CEO’s statement. Timothy wasn't sure of what to say, so he stayed silent for the time being. But luckily, Rhys continued, "Look, I know you were together, but I'm in love with her as well." There was a beat of silence as Timothy pondered over Rhys’ words. 

He knew something was going on but not this. Timothy scrambled his head for something to say. Should he 

#Rhys Strongfork #Rhys Strongfork x reader #timothy lawrence #timothy lawrence x reader #Borderlands #Borderlands x reader #wip #Wips

[yzareenxiv]

FFXIVWrite2021 - 14: Commend

Commend

((Sequel to Prompt 13. TW: Blood, TW: torture (minor) ))

Zareen had always been comfortable in her own skin but standing before the assembled courtiers and the monarch and her consort, she truly felt naked. She was shaking, badly, so weak she could barely keep on her feet. Her body was a shell of itself- bones showed clearly through skin stretched tight over them by near-starvation, all of her soft curves burned away in her body’s desperate bid for survival. The gilded collar rubbed harshly against her collarbones and the shackles on her wrists could almost slide off her hands.

Worst yet, her hair had been shorn sometime recently in her captivity and she could not remember when. Long enough ago that the growth was perhaps two or three ilms. It was that insult, that incredible insult to her person, that was giving her the sheer energy of rage that allowed her to keep her feet and keep her head upright, green eyes glaring defiantly as she looked around the room at the monstrous beings around her.

The Queen-Mother, one of the only two beings in the room that was a splash of color in the near-monochrome group in an overly-elaborate gown the deep blue-purple of venous blood, moved up to Zareen in a sinuous motion. One of her hands reached up to caress Zareen’s cheek in a proprietary manner that immediately made the miqo’te snap at her. The courtiers gasped as one but the Queen-Mother only laughed in delight, especially when the sharp motion threatened Zareen’s delicate sense of balance and she swayed in place.

“Such spirit. I really must commend you- my huntmaster has never failed before to bring a beast to heel. You made him so angry he screamed himself hoarse…” Her voice trailed away and the courtiers laughed in the pause, just as she had intended. One of them is a little too loud and laughs a little too long and the Queen-Mother’s eyes flick to them as another hand gives a subtle gesture to her consort. The Crimson King doesn’t move, but four ill-defined shadowy figures encircle the offending Lady and drag her away, kicking and screaming and flailing, begging for forgiveness.

There is a beat of silence before the Queen-Mother smiles and begins walking around Zareen, observing her from all angles as she shakes and struggles. Impossibly long nails- or perhaps sharpened bone?- trail across Zareen’s hipbone and along her lower back just hard enough to leave a red mark without breaking thin skin. “You really are remarkable, you know. So delicate but with such strength riding just below the surface. You really are wasted in the kennels though you did so very well in the last Great Hunt. Barring that… unfortunate display, of course.” Several of the courtiers shifted uncomfortably at the memory but the Queen-Mother continued on.

“You really did leave me no choice, refusing to even apologize.” She paused, looking at Zareen expectantly. Zareen just stared back, eyes narrowed and dangerous, ears pinned back. There was no way in any of the hells- including this one- that Zareen would admit that she had no idea what was being said to her. The language grated on her ears and in her soul though she had heard enough of it now to at least start to understand the inflections of emotion and expectation. She knew the monarch expected a reply and she might have done so had it not revealed her ignorance. Every weakness, no matter how insignificant it seemed, could and would be exploited in this place and Zareen knew it. So she kept her silence- and the silence stretched between them.

And stretched.

And stretched.

The Queen-Mother’s anger palpably grew in the room, making the small space feel oppressive.

Finally, the Crimson King spoke up in his rolling voice, tone almost lazy. “It appears the cat has her tongue, Your Majesty.”

Silence amongst the assembly, breath held, then the Queen-Mother let out a laugh and everyone immediately laughed along save for the miqo’te in the center of the room. “So it does, my love. So it does. Let us remedy this, hm?” She turned her eyes to one of the figures behind Zareen and beckoned. Two tall Lords walked forward to flank the miqo’te and her eyes flitted from one to the other. They dwarfed her, easily 8 fulms or so a piece and built wide and heavy. The Queen-Mother gave another gesture and the two Lords moved smoothly in a way that suggested they had done this many times in the past. One stepped behind Zareen and grappled her, pinning her arms to her body and lifting her off her feet in a smooth motion. The other grabbed her head in a huge palm, pinching her nose shut as the other hand pried at her jaw. Zareen was weak from her privations but she thrashed and fought violently and earned several pained grunts from well-placed strikes of her heels. The lack of air and her general state, though, meant she was forced to open her mouth to take a breath, which allowed the huge Lord to wrench her jaws open as wide as they could go. She screamed and roared and the Queen-Mother smiled before reaching into Zareen’s mouth and grabbing her tongue in a vicious grip. Claws of sharpened bone curved and slashed and the miqo’te gurgled and tried not to choke as she was unceremoniously dropped to the floor where she promptly collapsed.

Her body didn’t have the extra moisture required for tears but her eyes burned as she curled up protectively, swallowing the blood as quickly as she could not only to keep from choking on it but because she was so, so thirsty. The Queen-Mother held Zareen’s tongue in her claws and gave a thoughtful hum before devouring it in neat bites, expression making it clear she was savoring the treat immensely. The last bite she turned to feed to her consort, the Crimson King making much of licking the blood off her claws. When he was finished, he leaned in and murmured something into his lover’s ear which made her cast a thoughtful, considering gaze back at the moaning, rocking miqo’te on the floor.

A smile suddenly curved cruel lips and the courtiers- save for the Consort- felt flutters of fear race through them. That expression boded ill for someone. “Take her to the General’s quarters. Inform him that I am tasking him, personally, with her recovery and well-being- as well as her education in the ways of the Court. Perhaps once she has regrown her tongue, she might be more informed on it’s proper use as a servant.” Several of the courtiers tittered, others shared glances as this masterful move by the monarch could significantly change the political board. The General, out of favor since the collapse of his campaign and relegated to his own lodge out in the territories, was being given a rare chance to redeem himself.

As the Queen-Mother and the Crimson King swept out of the room, only the two tall Lords remained behind. One, with a gentleness that belied his previous actions, took one of the tall drink glasses from a table and gave it to Zareen, encouraging her to drink the liquid as she began to go into shock. She could not fight it- not once she felt the soothing cool running down her throat and easing the incredible pain on the stump of her tongue. He removed his cloak and wrapped it around her while the other Lord frowned.

“You shouldn’t do that.” He grumbled, eyeing his companion as he lifted Zareen in a bridal carry. “You know what she is.”

“I do. I remember what we were, too. So do you, even if you pretend you don’t.” The first Lord retorted sharply.

Silenced, the second man frowned and looked away. “Those memories are useless. You need to let them go. They’ll only cause you trouble. Which causes me trouble.”

“Mmm. Pretend I’m doing it to curry favor with a potential playing piece if you want.” The Lord carrying Zareen said as the two began to walk to the stables. They would need to ride to the General’s lodge.

The other snorted derisively. “You think she is going to be anything but a pawn? You’re more delusional than I thought.”

“Who’s to say? Better to hedge my bets than dismiss a possibility out of hand.”

The other grunted, unable to argue with that.

And even in her pain and suffering, Zareen clutched the gift of that cloak close to her naked body.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv rp #y'zareen serhan #stories #tw: blood #tw: torture

[justalittlelitnerd]

Pretty Reckless by L.J. Shen

This book really surprised me not only because of the characters, but the writing itself was truly beautiful. In my own personal experience with romance novels they’re not always the best written and I think that has more to do with the industry and the genre and the lack of support romance novels and their authors get than a lack of talent on the writer’s part. Most romance novels are self-published with whatever resources or connections the author has in terms of editorial work which in the end just means the final result is *typically* (note: not always obviously) a little rougher than say if it went through the traditional publishing process where an agent works with the author for months to fine-tune the story before it goes to an editor who will then work for months to fine-tune the writing and on and on until it’s finally published. 

Sorry that was a long tangent just to say that I’ve gotten into a habit of skimming romance books because I’m in it for the characters and the romance and the HEA more than the writing itself (honestly characters and their relationships are far more important to me than writing), but I found myself taking my time with this book because there were so many beautiful lines that I wanted to savor. 

Basically, Daria Followhill and Penn Scully meet at age 14 when both their lives are falling apart in very different ways. Daria is teeming with the jealousy only a fourteen-year-old girl who feels her mother loves another girl more than her can feel and she finds herself in possession of a letter that would change everything. Penn enters, unaware of the letter’s contents or the effect it will have on his family, and in an attempt to win Daria’s attention he trashes the letter, leaves her with a piece of sea glass, her first kiss, and a promise of more. But the letter contained his sister’s future and when she thinks she didn’t get in she runs away from Penn and their abusive family, never to be seen again. 

Fast forward four years to Penn’s 18th birthday and it’s clear that a lot has changed, but there’s still an undeniable pull between the two. When Penn’s mother dies and his step-father kicks him out, Daria’s mom (who feels residual guilt over his sister’s disappearance) offers him a place to stay and he makes it his mission to make Daria pay for the role she played in what happened. But Daria’s already paid and is still paying. What neither of them expected was love. Or the return of a ghost.

*TRIGGER WARNING* in general there’s quite a bit of violence, mentions of rape/assault, and an abusive relationship between the principal and Daria which started when she was 14. 

All in all if you like classic enemies-to-lovers, fated romance, complicated family dynamics, tough guys with soft hearts, and dark elements with your romance than this book is probably worth a shot.     

Keep reading for the quotes!

Boys can smell heartbreak from across a continent. Even at fourteen. Even in the middle of an innocent summer afternoon. We girls have an invisible string behind our belly button, and only certain guys can tug at it. This boy…he will snap it if I let him.

He studies me with quiet interest as though I’m a painting, not a person. My heart is rioting all over, and the dumbest thought crosses my mind. Ever notice how the heart is literally caged by the ribs? That’s insane. As if our body knows it can break so easily, it needs to be protected.

My voice hardens around the words. Like tin. I’m desperate. I have no lead. I want to rip the world apart to find her, but the world is not mine to destroy. The world just continues turning at the same pace, because kids like Via and me? We disappear all the time, and no one notices.

His scent messes with my head. I want to reach out and caress his face. Kiss his wounds better. Beg for forgiveness. Curse him. Push him away. Cry on his shoulder for what we’ve done. For how it ended. For what we became afterward. Because I’m full of crap, and he is totally empty. We ruined ourselves the day of our first kiss.

She stares at me with the same wild gaze that made me give her the sea glass four years ago. As though I’m the most fascinating creature in the world. I want to pocket that look and save it for the next time the world lets me down. Which should be in the next twenty minutes.

Normally, he’d drag my ass out and give me a piece of his mind. Not today. He and I both know he can’t be that much of a hypocrite. If he saw someone hitting on Luna, he would rip them to shreds and dump whatever’s left of them on the side of the road. I’ve seen him screw people up for less than looking at her. The only problem is, Penn is not my Luna. We don’t have some long, elaborate, angsty childhood friendship that’s dancing on the edge of more.

“And miss out on all this delicious teenage angst?” I murmur, mesmerized by how beautifully she fits under my palm. As though she was born to have my hands on her. “It’s practically Netflix for free.”

“You’re Saturn,” she whispers. “Made of iron-nickel and surrounded by protective rings of ice and rock.” “How do you know that?” I smile, and I know the smile is warm. I know it’s fucking up something in her chest, and even though I shouldn’t, I like it. After all these years, I still want to ruin her. Then put her back together. Then do it again and again and a-fucking-gain.

He stops, cupping my face in his hands. His eyes twinkle, but maybe I see what I want to see. I didn’t mean to save him all my firsts. But it happened, and a part of me is glad that it did. Because he was the first boy to give me a gift. The first boy to kiss me. To want to become my friend not because I was popular, but because I was me. He was the first boy who noticed the injured animal behind the camouflage of hostility and tried to give it water and shelter.

Luckily, I have a lot of experience when it comes to fakeness. My personality is basically one hundred percent recyclable plastic. The only person who can still scrape a bit of authenticity from me is her brother.

The Scullys are too smart to fall for this type of Riverdale nonsense.

She is wrong. I can look at her face all fucking day. I wish it were a legit job so I could make money doing it. I would put in all the extra hours and become a billionaire within a year. (The math doesn’t add up, by the way, so don’t try to do it.)

My world, however, is narrow-pathed and dingy. I don’t believe in fairy tales. I think Shakespeare got it right. When two people try to go against the grain, they get fucked up. End of story.

“It’s not like that,” I say hurriedly. If I have to tell him what’s going on with Prichard, I will. I’m not proud of it, but pride is a very slippery slope where love is involved. Marx. Love. I don’t use the L word lightly. I don’t go around telling people I love pizza or chocolate or Riverdale. I like those things. Love, I save for the important stuff. But I am hopelessly, tragically in love with Penn Scully. That’s why I can’t really hate his sister. Not entirely, anyway. She is an extension of him, and he has my heart.

Love. Four letters can’t cover what I feel for Daria Followhill. They seem too trivial, too small, too overused.

And love IS humbling, I know now because I want to punch myself in the face for being the smug bastard who assumed he’d just walk out of this shit unscathed. The tin man didn’t ask for a heart—but got one anyway. I love you, Daria Followhill, and I think you love me, too. In fact, I think we fell at the same time. You, like rain, in drizzles, over the weeks. Me, like the fucking sky above my head, all at once, crashing without the faintest chance of stopping.

My mouth goes dry, and I shake my head slowly. She takes a step closer and folds my shirt under her palm so that the hole in my chest looks like it’s closing in when, in reality, it opens up like a shark’s jaw. “Everything I touch is tainted, Penn. Everything I want turns to ash. I spent the entire semester trying to be yours, but you’ve never once claimed my heart. I’m sending you to Adriana’s arms, not because I don’t care, but because I do. So much. Maybe too much. Because I screwed up so many relationships, the only way for us to heal is if I take myself out of the equation.” You are the fucking equation, I want to yell in her face. The riddle and the answer and the numbers within it. You’re math. You make sense.

“You were never a drizzle, Penn Scully. When I fell for you, you came beating down, and I felt you everywhere. You were hail.”

“I’ve loved you in secret, and I’ve loved you openly in front of both our worlds, and if you think I’ll stop loving you if you put an ocean between us, you’re dead wrong.”

I want her to tell me that I’m not the only one here feeling like every breath is a fucking nail jammed straight into my lungs. If this is what love feels like, it’s complete bullshit. I want my money back because Shakespeare was right all along. True love truly sucks ass.

I’ll go wherever Daria goes. Even if it’s straight to hell.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You know that, right?” No, I don’t, and I’m trying to tell myself not to get my hopes up because they are slamming their little fists against the door of my brain’s basement, wanting to gush out.

Last time we spoke to each other, she promised not to leave, but she did. I’m not taking any chances. She might as well file a restraining order because I’m not letting her out of my sight.

#pretty reckless #pretty reckless book #all saints high #l.j. shen #daria x penn #enemies to lovers #romance #hs romance #romance books #complex characters #quotes #book quotes #book blog #booklr