#fuck good story telling and allowing ash to be done i wanted him to hang out with arven and battle nemona and AHHHHH

[hereforthecartoons]

Pokemon anime wtf.

#pokemon #ash ketchum #pokeani #satoshi #spoliers #pokemon spoilers #pokemon s/v spoilers #pokemon scarlet violet spoilers #pokemon scarlet and violet spoilers #fuck good story telling and allowing ash to be done i wanted him to hang out with arven and battle nemona and AHHHHH

[aceofwhump]

Guys

The Weeping Monk.

The Weeping Monk has become my new obsession. I love him. I knew I would because seeing all the gifs of him in tumblr is why I watched in the first place I didn't not expect for him to capture my interest so much. It's not the strongest hyperfixation I've ever had but it is one nonetheless and I'm thrilled. Welcome the list of "Ace's Favorite Whumpees"!!

SPOILERS ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously I got ramble and let some spoilers loose so if you want to watch it still and don't want spoilers just keep scrolling

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So not only is Daniel Sharman fucking gorgeous but Daniel Sharman looking like this?

With the eyes and the hood and the darkness and the scruff. Oh hell yeah! He's like some omen of death with that cloak. I love it.

So why do I like the Weeping Monk so much?

Well first of all I LOVE A GOOD REDEMPTION STORY!!!!! Like so much! I blame Zuko for that. But if you give me a bad dude who's done some bad shit but also has one hell of a traumatic past then put him on a path of redemption and healing? I’M SOLD! And at the end of the season, The Weeping Monk has been set on his redemption beginnings and I will die if Netflix doesn't give us a season 2 so I can see this boy walk his new path towards redemption and healing. I crave it.

But anyway. This man right here. The emotional angst and whump he exudes is so lovely.

Towards the end of the season we find out that he's Fey and I fucking lost my shit. This boy is a Fey who was raised by the people who hate Fey. His people were killed and he was taken as a child by the same people who murdered them. He was then brainwashed to believe he was demon born and evil and a sinner purely for existing and was taught to punish himself for it (he whips himself in a form of self flagellation!) and I'm sure he was punished for all sorts of things growing up by his "Father". The amount of self hate and self doubt he must feel breaks my heart. He knows he's Fey! He remembers his real name (also that reveal sent me to another plane of existence) so he must have some memories of his family and his people. But he's spent his whole life being used as a weapon against his own people and brainwashed into thinking he was saving them because fey are inherently damned. And that's all he is to the Red Paladins. A weapon. But he sees them as his people, his family because that's all he knows!

This dude is so broken and brainwashed and lost it just breaks my heart.

LOOK AT HIM!! Look at this lost and broken boy!! He just needs some love and affection dammit!! I mean he flat out asks "Do you love me Father?" AHHH!!

And oh my god this conversation between him and Gawain?!

Allow me to share the whole conversation because I need to talk about it.

Gawain: Don’t be afraid Ash Man. I don’t bite. It’s those eyes. The mark of the Ash Fold. There haven’t been any in these lands for centuries. How did you find your way here? Have you just come to watch me die?

The Weeping Monk: Why didn’t you tell them? Before...you could have told them. But you didn’t. Why?

G: Because all Fey are brothers. Even the lost ones

WM: This suffering, it will cleanse you.

G: You parrot these words, but you know it’s all lies. I can feel it in you, my brother.

WM: You are not my brother.

G: They have turned your mind so far inside out...that you don’t know the difference between kindness...and hate. Who did this to you?

WM: We are saving souls. Your soul.

G: Tell that to the little ones that you burn.

WM: I don’t harm the children

G: You burn their homes, you slay their mothers and their fathers, and you watch your Red Brothers run them down on horses. And you see it all through those weeping eyes. That makes you guilty. Brother! You can fight. I’ve never seen anything like it. You could be our greatest warrior. Your people need you.

WM: You are not my people.

G: Then tell them. If this is where you belong, tell them what you are.

WM: I’ll pray for you.

G: And I you.

First of all this conversation is the reason I now ship these two. Just saying. Gawain saw that he was kin, that he was lost, that he was broken and reached out to try and help him even though he is the reason he is being tortured. I can’t with these two! But also, the WM felt guilty about turning him in and worried about his own fate but you can tell that Gawain’s words sink in and set something inside of him and it’s because of Gawain that WM is now on this path of his. AND Gawain! I fully expected him to hate this man after everything hes done but he saw a lost and broken fey brother and tried to help him and I just...Gawain is so good you guys! This whole exchange is just *chefs kiss*. Cause after this the WM saves Squirrel.

Which leads me to Squirrel and the Weeping Monk. The other reason I desperately need season 2 is because I can't wait to see this unexpected pairing. I mean come on, big bag tough guy with trauma becomes unexpectedly joined with a young child? Best trope ever. Plus he got his ass kicked pretty bad and I need season 2 start off with that so I can see Squirrel take care of this injured man. Anyway, these two are going to have a great adventure getting back to the Fey and I NEED TO SEE IT!!! I want to see Squirrel and Lancelot bond and Squirrel defend him against Fey who hate him and for Lancelot to reluctantly become attached and defensive of this Fey boy and AHHHHHH!!

Oh and side note: One of my favorite tropes occurred. Defeated in battle, manhandled to their knees and hood pulled off revealing their bruised and bloody face. God yes please.

Time for some headcanons:

Okay he's totally touch starved am I right? This boy hasn't known a kind touch in his whole life. Pain is all he's known. The Paladins only touch to punish him or wield him. And he thinks he deserves it. He deserves the pain. The punishment. But kindness? A soft touch? Someone tending his injuries gently? He doesnt know what to do it that. He ends up stiffening or flinching away from the blinds hands of the fey, confused at first but slowly he starts to crave that kind touch.

Squirrel is always hugging him. Like whenever he sees him. And WM doesnt know what the fuck to do with that. You think he ever for hugged? I DOUBT IT! So hes all stiff and awkward and kind of bears it but after a while he starts hugging back kind of awkwardly.

Oh and speaking of tending his injuries I can almost guarantee that he has either had to tend to his own injuries in the past or he didn't do anything for them at all. But he's in a Fey camp now and the Fey help each other so when he and squirrel first show up at the camp and a he's taken to a healer and at first he balks and is like "I'm fine" but people like Pym and Squirrel and Gawain (YES GAWAIN! I have thoughts hang on) are like clearly you're not so just sit down before fall down again and let Pym heal you! AND then we get a scene of them all seeing the scars and fresh lashes and being horrified

Okay Gawain. He's not dead and he and Lancelot become best bros (or lovers cause I kind of ship them so much. Forget Nimulot. It's Gawain and Lancelot all the way) and Gawain protects him from the Fey who want to kill him after Squirrel and Lancelot arrive at the makeshift Fey camp and he's taken prisoner. Gawain watches him and see his humanity and goodness and self hate and trauma and Lancelot has someone who sees him as a "brother" as someone lost but not irredeemable and they fall in love okay bye

His powers as one of the Ash Folk. We know he can track. But from what we saw what if he's also got some camouflage or healing abilities hes never explored. NEVER EXPLORED BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT A MANIFESTATION OF HIS INNER DEMON!!!

Also, I saw these two onset pics and now I'm ready for this to be s2 WM and Squirrel.

Okay rant over. Sorry. Bye now ✌

#cursed spoilers #cursed netflix #cursed #the weeping monk #daniel sharman #mod post #ace rambles about her favs #new whumpee #new fav #my whumpees

[nohoney]

fix it yourself

notes: Jealous by Eyedress low key inspired this work, I surprisingly got this done pretty quick considering that I first typed this up back in September and sorta just held onto it for a while

warnings: 18+, pretty angsty, slight codependency, implied/referenced abuse, implied/referenced assault, murder, PTSD attack

summary:

Blood on your cheek, bruises around your neck, hands dirty with dried blood, you’re unnervingly calm.

“I did something…” you tell Dabi, the paramour that you easily just accepted into your life since that first dirty fuck in that alley.

“Let me in doll.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ✧

Dabi’s not necessarily the most affectionate of lovers or the nicest but he looks out for your wellbeing. He plucked you from your shit circumstances of abuse, something that he could very much relate to, and taken you to a place that he deems suitable enough for you. You’re not exactly looking for luxury, just finally a place to escape the screaming, the hitting, and the boozing. In a way, you owe Dabi your life since he had found you at just the right moment when you were ready to give up on the world.

He had first seen you outside of a club, shit faced right outside the entrance, the bass of the music still achingly loud as you threw up into the street. You were no different than any other broken face he had come across, his own including when he looked into the mirror, but you made looking sad and broken into a fucking art. To him you were like a fallen angel, wings dragging in the mud of the earth as you searched for something else to take the pain away. More booze, maybe a fling for the night, maybe a narcotic if you sought out the right people.

Dabi could see that you were corrupted long ago and he imagined in his own mind how innocent you may have been before the world threw you to the ground and pressed your face to the dirt. Were you sheltered at first, not knowing anything about the cruel reality before being thrust into it? Or maybe you were raised in toxicity, doing your best to remain pure and gold hearted before you eventually began to die inside. It’s not always like in those cheesy movies where the main hero can keep their cheery constitution in the face of adversity; in reality someone has to break. He had to know who you were, what shitty home did you drag your feet to, and he just had to have you to himself.

Never mind the story of how he was finally tired of observing you, just plucked you off the street as you were walking in the dead of night, how you eyed him up and down and liked what you saw before pushing your dress up over your hips and pulled your panties to the side for him. Dabi just fucked you in the most nearby alley, just barely able to make you keep your voice down as he thrust into you roughly from behind while pinching your clit. Never mind how he was addicted in just a matter of seconds when your pussy clenched around him and how your first words to him were, “Don’t tell me your name, just fuck me the hardest you can.”

Oh he liked you right away; not only were you broken but you were a slut too?

Dabi could have been like any other scumbag who would just finish and leave you to stumble your way back home. No, Dabi decided that you were his and that it was his duty to make sure that you made it back safe to wherever it was you called home. He wanted to be sure he would have more chances to fuck you. You didn’t look back the first time he had dropped you off in front of a decently sized house, opening the gate to let yourself in and closing it behind you.

Yelling, the shatter of a bottle, a groan of frustration with a door being slammed, he could hear it from where he stood outside the gate to your home.

An abusive father maybe? Perhaps a shit boyfriend that you’re playing girlfriend/mother to?

You don’t tell Dabi anything what goes on behind the doors of your home. The only thing you tell him is how you want to be fucked when he decides to present himself to you on his own time.

He finds out eventually on his own and he has half a mind to take matters into his own hands. No one hurts you unless it’s by his own hand, and only when you ask in that cute pitched voice he likes when you’re about to come undone. Your sanity is just barely hanging off the edge of a cliff when Dabi had arrived to your home in the middle of the night just to check up on you. You stand on the other side of the gate just as he steps to the front. Blood on your cheek, bruises around your neck, hands dirty with dried blood, you’re unnervingly calm.

“I did something…” you tell Dabi, the paramour that you easily just accepted into your life since that first dirty fuck in that alley.

“Let me in doll.”

The place you once called home catches fire and you’re reported as missing.

Dabi takes you to the League’s headquarters and they quietly accept you.

The League doesn’t pay much attention to you unless Dabi allows you to sit with them, and that’s only if he’s with you. Most of the time you’re secluded away from them and the main interactions you get are primarily with Dabi. You’re a mysterious entity to them that had one day just arrived in tow with Dabi, blood streaked on your face, dirty hands, and bruise marks around your neck. They didn’t suspect it to be his doing, not with the tender way he touched your cheek, rather careful like he’d break you, and sent you up to his room. There was clearly a story to your appearance but whatever happened, it remained between you and Dabi.

Some are curious while the others believe it’s best that they not know; either way, your mouth is kept shut about the day you arrived in the League’s headquarters.

It seems that they don’t mind but you can only guess that Dabi may have something to do with them allowing your presence.

The only friendly ones are Twice and Toga, probably the most rambunctious of the entire group. Twice’s conflicting personalities provide an entertainment you’d never seen before and Toga cozies up to you, calling you big sister and sometimes braiding your hair. She asks what your blood is like but you refrain from answering her question. When you’re allowed to interact with the League, Twice and Toga make you feel quite comfortable until Dabi stows you away again.

The rest of them are polite, save for the strange leader who seems wary of your presence.

You watch the news report of the fire of your old home and your missing person’s report from the television provided in Dabi’s room. Bad memories of that night haunt you sometimes and you touch your neck, your body remembering for you how rough hands tried to choke you that night but you want to forget. That life is gone, it’s behind you now and you don’t ever have to worry about it again except your stupid mind won’t stop replaying that night for you. Dabi’s not nearby, he’s not available to give you comfort, sent out by the leader to do who knows what for their organization.

There’s a bottle of dark liquor that Dabi didn’t bother to take back down to the bar from the day before.

You reach for it and hope the amber liquid will numb you.

When Dabi returns, he finds you kneeling in front of the toilet with a glass of water nearby your feet. You’re groaning as you reach for the glass of water to help gargle some of the rancid taste off your tongue, your body purging the foul alcohol you consumed with no food in your stomach to cushion the effects of whatever you drank. Whiskey or cognac or bourbon, you don’t know what it was but it hit you good and hard until it was harsh on your tongue and then your body was punishing you for consuming too much.

You lift your head up and see Dabi standing at the entrance of the restroom. That same broken expression from when he first laid eyes on you, from the many times he’d watch you from a distance, and when you’d just stare forward when you’re lost in your own thoughts. You wear it so well, you really are like a melancholy piece of art to him. You’re his pretty, broken little doll and he’ll do as he pleases with you, the best part being how willing and compliant you are.

To be honest, Dabi would like if you at least had a little fight in you sometimes. He’d get such a thrill in fucking you into submission and breaking your will, but you are who you are and he won’t be ungrateful as to what he’s getting from you now. Maybe one day a fire will light within you and you’ll dare yourself to defy him, but in the meantime Dabi is more than happy to have you so obedient to him.

“Stand up doll, back to the room.”

You take the glass of water with you and go back to the room you share with him, the door closing quietly to give you privacy.

“I want to see it Dabi, show me.” you tell him rather curtly as you sit on the edge of the bed, an edge to your voice. You’re still a little drunk so you’re not really being mindful of how you’re speaking to him, alcohol still coursing through your veins and body still trying to metabolize however amount of liquor that your body absorbed into your bloodstream.

“Use your nice words doll.” Dabi admonishes you but there’s not much bite to his words.

You sigh before asking in the way that he wants you to, “Please can I see it Dabi?”

He reaches his left hand forward and creates a small blue flame in the center of his palm. The sight of it calms you down and the anxiety of that night fades in just a few seconds. It’s not an arm around your shoulder or curling into a warm body that eases your nerves; it’s the hot blue flames that burned your old life to the ground. The hands that tried to choke the life out of you are gone, the knife you used to free yourself from your tormentor burnt to ashes, and the blood on your face and hands washed down the drain, it’s all gone but you’re haunted still.

Dabi understands, it can be difficult to find catharsis and he can’t say what method will be best for you to find relief.

He has his planned out long before he met you, he’s just waiting for the right pieces to fall into place. Whether or not you’ll be around for that time, he’s not sure himself.

The flames dissipate and you’re calm now, your head still swimming a little but you’re sober enough now. You delicately hold his left hand in your own smaller ones, the tips of your fingers carefully moving from the harsh contrast of his untouched flesh to the gnarled skin being held together by the surgical staples. It’s so ugly, so ghastly and all over his body, yet you’re not put off by it at all.

You’re not afraid to look Dabi in the eye as he pulls your clothes off your body and roughly pushes you onto the surface of the bed. Your head aches slightly but not enough to complain about it. Your breath hitches in your throat as his mouth closes over your pussy, licking you sloppily and he pulls back to spit onto your clit. He smears his spit all over and chuckles as the tips of his fingers tease over your opening, your body tensing and reacting so beautifully to his touch. When he curls his fingers inside you after pushing them inside, you struggle to hold in your sounds, you don’t want the others to hear.

It’s not like he cares that you’re trying to stifle yourself, you always end up making noise anyway.

“F-Fuck… y-you’re gonna make me cum!” you whine up to the ceiling.

“Where you wanna cum then?” Dabi asks you, his fingers still working intensely but his eyes looking bored at you. The bulge in his pants gives away that he does indeed the position you’re in now, he just likes being the only one composed as you lose yourself. “Tell me.”

His cock, you want to cum on his cock.

Last time he had you sit on his face, licking and eating you out until you were too sensitive and sobbing for him to just let you rest.

So he lies back and has you on top, he’s tired from being out today and is going to make you do the work. Your head lolls back as you sit on his dick, appreciating the fullness for a few seconds before you brace your hands nearby his head, widen your legs for your comfort and begin to fuck him. Dabi’s hands touch the back of your thighs, huffing quietly as he watches you from below, you’re surprisingly enthusiastic when not too long ago you were puking your guts out.

And now here you were, trying to get your guts rearranged by him.

“Come on, this cock is yours… fuck me like you want it. You want it don’t you?”

“Yes! Yes I want it!” you sob out, pushing back onto Dabi’s cock and just desperately trying to chase the ghosts away of your trauma by losing yourself in this carnal moment.

I want to forget, make me forget.

Harder and harder you chase after your high, the only solace you get since your old life burned to the ground, no trace of evidence of bottles of alcohol and walls with punched in holes or even the creaky floorboards you hyper focused on when certain footsteps walked the hallway. All gone, it was gone, and yet it lives on still in your mind and you don’t know what it will take to move on.

You choke up both from the memories and when Dabi begins to thrust up into you.

He’s your savior, he wasn’t necessarily an angel by any means nor the nicest to you, but he saved you and you were entirely grateful to him. So you have to do a good job and please him, you owe it to Dabi to make sure he gets off. You don’t mind that he uses you like this, it’s what he approached you for in the first place when you walked alone in that dark night after leaving a bar. He looked like trouble when you first saw him but you didn’t care, your life was an almost constant stream of chaos and stress, what more could this one man bring to you?

When you’re on round the clock torture, how much more can you step it up?

Dabi brought pain to you, slapping you in sensitive areas as his cock rearranged your guts, but at least it was a wanted pain that had you clenching and gushing around him.

You gasp as Dabi’s cock slips out of you, whining at the emptiness.

“Put it back inside, fix it yourself.”

Fix it yourself.

Fatal words that you spoke that pushed everything over the edge.

‘F-Fix it yourself…! I won’t do it!’

‘What the fuck did you just say to me?’

A hand at your throat, the knife on the chopping board clattering to the floor as you tried to back up, a haphazard slash when you were able to just barely grasp it, blood dripped onto your face before you desperately pushed off the heavy body on top of you. Anxiety, relief, regret, fear, it all coursed through your body in that moment and when you heard a groan, you plunged that same knife in the body to assure that they wouldn’t get back up.

If you had let them live, you were sure that they would make sure you didn’t.

And you sat in your kitchen, knees hugged to your chest, enough time had passed for the blood on your hands to dry and you thought, ‘I need to turn myself over.’

To your surprise Dabi was at your gate when you walked out and instead you numbly asked him for help.

Fix it yourself.

It’s like a shock of cold water and you hop off of him, curling into a ball on the other side of the bed and you’re wracked with sobs.

It’s just not that easy to forget.

Dabi’s surprised how quick you got off him but he understands quickly that he must have triggered something within you. He’s not good at comforting, is unsure what to say as you press your face into a pillow to muffle your crying. He just fixes his cock back into his pants and stares at you, unmoving. He eventually lays down beside you and just rests his hand on your head, still quiet but he figures it’s a good sign that you take his hand and hold it.

Broken, you look so pretty like this, you wore it so naturally unlike others that made them look ugly.

It’s what attracted him to you in the first place.

His pretty broken doll.

The occupants on either side of Dabi’s room can hear it, idly wondering what had happened. First they could hear your wanton little moans and then the next you’re sobbing, not the pleasurable kind but the heartbroken kind. Things must be okay because it quiets down eventually, though not a word spoken between the two of you as far as they could hear. Whatever happened, it’s between the two of you.

Despite the society you lived in, the reverence of heroes and their system of ranking, no one had ever rescued you from your circumstances. It wasn’t a shining hero, it was Dabi that came into your life, you won’t talk about it, he doesn’t want to know.

But he fixed it for you.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #dabi #bnha x reader #bnha #tw abuse #tw assault #tw ptsd #tw murder

[purefrostbyte]

Heavenly Bride

BNHA Japanese God AU

Agyo!Bakugo

 Rating: Smut

Heavenly Bride

 The ash blonde was sat at his desk, looking through shitty paperwork and answering prayers. He had been stressed all day, and the fact everyone in the Heavenly Realm added onto it didn’t help his nerves. He was about to throw a tantrum at a poor palace guard when your voice filled his ears, the honey laced sound that instantly made him sit back down and listen to what you had to say. He remembers the first time he heard you, you had done nothing but ask him questions, sitting by his statue in the temple while you cleaned and polished it. At first he found you annoying, especially when you seemed to take a liking to talking to him every day. But as time went on and he heard more of your stories and questions, the ash blonde god found himself infatuated with you. The first time he saw you he had to physically stop himself from scooping you up and taking you with him back to the Heavenly Realm.

You were the most beautiful girl in your village, the villages pride and joy. You were kind and polite, though you definitely had a bit of an attitude. It only made Agyo fall harder for you. You often left offerings of red peppers, or on occasion when you could, a whole bowl of curry that the god would greedily scoff down before physically taking your plate back to you and leaving it in your room. The first time it happened you were shocked to see the bowl, thinking someone broke into your room to place it. But as time went on you started to realize the appearance of the bowl was a lot more heavenly then you could ever have thought. It was then he decided to plague your dreams, often finding ways to work you up and tease you to leave you hot and bothered in the morning.

He never directly told you who he was, but one look at him and you knew exactly who he was. He listen to your voice, guard long forgotten and fleeing in hope to not endure the wrath of the God of Overt Violence. Bakugo frowned when he heard you sniffle, and his fist clenched with the words you spoke. “Dear God Agyo. Help me please! My parents…they have betrothed me. I don’t wish to marry this man, word is he’s had 3 past wives who all vanished and…” you bit your lip as tears streamed down your face, sliding to your knees in front of his statue. Bakugo’s eyebrows furrowed, No! You couldn’t marry someone else, you were is goddamn it.

After your visit to the temple that night Bakugo didn’t hear from you. He had watched from above as you sat in you room, tears staining your beautiful kimono. It pained him to watch as something…someone, he had become attached to be filled with such sorrow and hatred. That was until one day, your fiancé had dared to raise a hand to you in public. Bakugo’s blood flowed hot with anger, and no amount of Heavenly Realm policy bullshit was gonna get in his way. The people of your village watched as a golden light flooded the street, gasping as a man appeared in the street. Unruly ash blonde spikes, a body of a god (Literally) with only a hakama hanging off his hips and those vermillion eyes that held nothing but anger for the man who had dared to strike you.

Your family gasped as Bakugo used his magic to send the man flying backwards, crashing through a brick wall that was surely going to leave a lot of damage to his body if not treated properly. The whole street bowed in respect to the God who had paid their village a visit, but Bakugo paid no mind to them as his rage continued to flare. He stepped forward, fully intending to beat the man to his last dying breath, but the feeling of your soft hand wrapped around his wrist stopped him. You family gaped from the sidelines, hissing for you to let go of the God and bow. Instead your eyes filled with tears and you hugged the Ash blonde god as you cried silently into his chest.

Bakugo held you close, glaring daggers at your family and in the direction of your now ex fiancé. “Listen here!” he yelled, voice booming with authority and power, “This is MY bride, and if any one of you ever lay a finger on her, you will find yourself in the deepest corners of hell. I’ll make bloody sure of it!” The village cowered in fear, shocked that their pride and joy was claimed by the god. He looked down at you, watching how your e/c eyes stared back at him in shock and happiness. He stroked your head before bending to whisper in your ear, “Let’s go home beautiful.” Your cheeks flushed as you nodded, taking his hand as he whisked you away from your village and your family.

You now stood in his study, gasping at the detail in the décor and how beautiful the whole place was. Bakugo wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him, breath tickling your neck in a way he knew drove you crazy. Your old kimono was now replaced, a beautiful white silk and satin kimono adorning your figure. You felt like a princess in it. Two large hands incased your hips and you were spun around to see your God. His vermillion eyes burnt holes into the bruise forming on your cheek and he wanted nothing more than to kill the man who had caused it.

Feeling his anger, you lifted one of his hands to cup your bruised cheek, nuzzling his palm affectionately as a sign that you were ok. “I should have killed him,” Bakugo voiced and you shook your head, voice coming out softly. “Death would be a mercy.” Bakugo let out a sigh of agreement and he watched as you nervously bit your lip, something you did when you had something to say but were afraid to say it. An action you only ever did with him.

“Talk to me beautiful, what’s on that mind of yours?” he rasped and you couldn’t help but crumble to his every want and need. “Did you mean it?” you whispered softly and Bakugo raised an eyebrow, “Did you mean it…when you said…that I’m-“ Bakugo let out a soft chuckle, “What? Did I mean it when I said that you’re my bride?” You let out a soft moan when he nipped at your ear and then dragged his tongue up your neck. “Every. Fucking. Word.” he growled and he enjoyed your content sigh when he pressed an open mouth kiss to your jugular.

You could feel your core dampen, he always had this affect on you. When he visited you in your dreams, he always left you wanting more and now was no different. Bakugo smirked against your neck, well aware of what he was doing. He wanted you needy, wanted you begging for him. He gently pushed you back against his desk, using magic to make all the unwanted things fly off so he could seat you on it. Your breathing hitched as Bakugo slotted in between your legs, hiking the skirt over your knees so he could grind against you. He smirked at you, that smirk that had your head spinning and knees buckling. He then moved his hips against yours and you threw your head back in pleasure. Bakugo’s grin turned feral and you couldn’t help but pull him into a kiss.

He was surprised at first but quickly took charge and you happily opened up to allowed him to do what he wanted. He smirked into your mouth and snaked a hand down between your legs to rub circles against your clit. You pulled away from the kiss to throw your head back and moan loudly. Bakugo smirked, about to kneel down between your legs when you throw him off balance. He was now backed against the desk with you hurriedly undoing his hakama. You had sucked him off before, to be fair it had been a dream but technically you still had. Once he was rid of the article, you looked up at him with innocent eyes before sinking down to your knees. Bakugo couldn’t help but grin, finally having you here, like this, all for him. You wrapped your hands around his base and kitten licked his tip, causing him to groan and thread his fingers through you c/h hair. You curled your tongue around his tip before taking it fully into your mouth and sucking. Bakugo growled and tuggged at your hair and you choked down the moan that blossomed in your throat, you didn’t want him to know you enjoyed that.

Bakugo noticed and he gripped the hair at the base of your skull and tugged harshly. The moan you produced was absolutely sinful. It sent delicious vibrations up his shaft and just as you decided to push him further down your throat, you heard the sound of footsteps coming towards the door. “Bakugo!” a voice called and Bakugo growled “Why now,” he groaned and he looks down at you. You were just about to pop off him when he grabbed you head and moved the both of you around the desk so that you were sat under it and in-between his legs. You look up at him and he simply smirked at you and put a finger to his lip. You nod and bit your lip as you heard the doors being thrown open.

“Dude! When were you gonna tell me you had a bride?!” You heard a cheery voice call as he entered the room. You took in a deep breath, nervous of being caught like this. “It wasn’t any of your damn business Shitty Hair! Now what do you want?” Bakugo snapped, fuck maybe he shouldn’t have placed you under the desk. Every breath you let out was directly on his member and he wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside you. You saw his member twitch, and you bit you lip as an idea popped into your head. It was risky and Bakugo could punish you because of it, but that thought only made you want to do it more.

You carefully shifted forward, mindful to not make any noise to alert the other God to of presence. You could just see Bakugo’s face from under the desk and you deliberately let out a breath on his tip. You watched Bakugo take a deep breath, eyes shifting down to look at you before looking back at the other god. “Dude,” the other God whined, “I wanna meet her! Come on, I wanna see what beautiful human captured your attention.” Bakugo hissed, not due to anger but due to you sinking fully down on him. ‘Fuck,’ he thought to himself, ‘Shitty Hair just fuck off!’

“You can…. You can fucking meet her at the wedding,” he snapped but the stutter alerted the other god. “Dude you good? You stuttered.” Bakugo rolled his eyes, fingers snaking down into your hair. “I’m fine Shitty Hair, but I got shit to do and you’re keeping me from it.” Kirishima smirked at Bakugo, “Oh? Is it planning the wedding, or claiming her as yours?” Bakugo growled and you couldn’t help but freeze. Did he know you were there? Bakugo gave your hair a small squeeze of reassurance. “Shitty Hair what happens in my bedroom is none of your fucking business. Can’t you go find your ‘little lion’ and leave me alone!?” Kirishima chuckled, “Alright dude! I’ll go, but I wanna meet her. And before the wedding!” Bakugo growled, “Fine.”

You waited for Kirishima’s steps to dissipate completely before popping your head out from under the desk. “Fuck,” he groaned and he looked down at you, “You sure are a little Kitsune aren’t you? Sucking me off with someone who could easily have caught you.” He moved his chair back and patted his lap and you happily obligated to sit down. “Ah,” he said, a smirk pulling at his face, “Kimono off.” Your face flushed but you obeyed, slowly undoing the ribbons that held it all together before letting it gracefully slip down your shoulders. Bakugo growled, licking his lips before beckoning for you to come and sit down on him.

You bit your lip as you began to straddle his legs, breath hitching when you feel his tip kiss the rim of your core. Bakugo placed a hand on your hip, “Relax Princess, let me take care of you.” He whispered and you relaxed and let him take the lead. He guided you down and you couldn’t help the breathy moan that escaped you. When you were fully seated you lay your head on his shoulder, breathing deeply as you adjusted. Bakugo held you close, sucking the tender skin of your neck to distract you. His ears drunk in your quiet whines and soft moans, enjoying the way he sunk his teeth into you and sucked your skin in a possessive nature.

You bucked your hips experimentally and you moaned at the feeling of Bakugo’s tip just kissing you sweet spot. You took a deep breath, before lifting your hips up and dropping back down. Bakugo groaned at the way you squeezed him and you moaned at the feeling of being full. Bakugo slid his hand onto your ass and squeezed, starting to help you bounce up and down on him. “Baku,” you moaned, burying your head into the crook of his neck. Hearing you call him like that made everything in him spark. He picked you up and slammed you into the desk, thrusting hard and deep into you making you see stars. “Katsuki,” he rasped against the shell of your ear. “Huh?” you asked, words not forming due to the amount of pleasure you were in. “My name is Katsuki, and I want you to moan it so loud the whole Heavenly Realm can hear.”

He rammed into you, biting and sucking at your neck causing you to scream and wither in pleasure under him. “Katsu-….oh god Katsuki!” you moaned and Bakugo growled into your ear. “You gonna cum baby?” he asked, already knowing the answer due to how you squeezed him. “Cum for me,” he ordered and you obeyed like the obedient girl you were. You came around him, screaming his name and clamping down around him. Bakugo groaned and came after you, due to the way you squeezed around him.  “Fuck baby,” he groaned as he stopped moving. You were still panting, hair sticking to you due to sweat. “Come on baby,” he whispered picking you up, “I think you deserve a nap.”

#aygo!bakugo #bnha japanese god au #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha #bnha smut

[mimiplaysgames]

save it for the morning after (3/3)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: E (Explicit) for Smut Word Count: 7,850

Summary: Aqua learns the value of being vulnerable.Terra learns to trust his body to another. Everyone gets a happy ending. ;)

Read on AO3

A/N: AAAAHHHH Happy Terraqua Day!!!! I can’t believe I finally finished this one, it always felt like it would never happen. I’m actually quite nervous - I don’t take the same kind of path of other smut and being so deviant honestly freaks me out so much. I really do pull this story into extreme directions for smut, that I wonder if I can call it smut at all. But let’s see. Hope you like. <3

~*~*~*~*~

“Aqua.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“Go ahead.”

“....”

“Are you okay?”

“The... um, your scars...”

“They’re not yours.”

“Aqua—”

“They aren’t.”

“Please.”

“...They’re not yours.”

~*~*~*~*~

Well, damn.

Ven hones in on Terra—a ballsy move considering it’s a super-bad idea to get this close to a large opponent—but Ven skids, spinning on his knees and tripping Terra like a pet running through its owner’s legs. Ven serves an uppercut with his short Keyblade. It almost jabs Terra on the ribs if not for his lurch backward, and he lands squarely on his ass against the desk behind him. 

A pot of ink rattles and tips, spilling all over his pants and spreading up the spine of his shirt. 

Ven snorts. “You look like you shit yourself.”

Terra wipes his backside, picking up excess ink in layers. It’s slick, skating through his fingers with the weight of iron and dripping onto the floor. More of it runs between his legs, finding a way in between cracks and folds of skin, moistening up his boxers. Damn it. He slathers his hand through Ven’s hair with so much force (Hey!) that Ven waddles to stay in balance. 

“And you look like you’ve been picking through trash.”

Ink clumps chunks of blond hair together, drooling down Ven’s ears and staining his collar. It makes him look oily for lack of a better term, like someone who hasn’t taken a shower in weeks. When he touches his scalp out of reflex he flinches, wiping his coated fingers on his own shirt… before realizing what he’s doing. He groans. 

“It suits you,” Terra says. 

“I dunno.” Ven wipes the rest of it on Terra’s shirt. “Looks better on you.” Might as well. The shirt is honestly ruined. 

One corner of the offending desk is covered in globs of shiny black. Terra corrects the ink bottle and surveys the damage. The tile floor will be easy to clean, but the wood is inhaling the color. 

“Aqua’s going to kill us,” Ven mutters. “She spent a lot of time in this room.”

Weeks of time choosing which books to display on the shelves. Days researching the right chalkboard to purchase. Journeys spent gathering minerals for students to practice with: ash from a far away volcano, water from the forest river nearby, unearthed dirt from the garden, and feathers from nests settled at the peak of the tallest mountain. Aqua has a vision of this room playing the dual role of serving lectures and encouraging hands-on experimentation in a safe environment. She wants it to be respectable and impressive before the semester starts. They’re not allowed to traverse the room with shoes on, and Terra and Ven were respectable about that before one of them (Ven) started to get cocky about his fighting abilities. 

Yeah, they fucked up. “Think of it this way. We proved it’s not practical for physical training,” Terra says. 

“You’re the one who’s going to tell her that.” Ven scoffs, splaying a wet towel on the floor.

Terra pulls his suspenders over his head and lets them hang from his waistband. Pinching his stained muscle shirt off and bundling it up, he uses it as a rag to absorb the puddle on the table. What’s sinking into his socks is now warm. He ignores it.

“Do you think I could pull this off?” Ven asks as a by-the-way, twiddling a shy hand at the back of his greasy head.

“Black hair?”

“No, you’re right. It’s creepy.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Pfft, you also ‘didn’t’”—Ven bookends the word with finger quotations—“spar fairly.”

Terra considers throwing his damp shirt at Ven’s face. “I’m not at my prime yet.”

“That’s not it.” Ven flips the towel and swipes the remaining streaks with the cleaner side. “You’re holding back. You promised you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

“I’m not holding back.” He is. Just the image of raising his Keyblade against either of his friends is enough to make him nauseous, but he swallows it to be a good sport. 

Giving it his all is something else entirely, a deeper, invasive illness. 

“I know you can hit harder than that.” Ven dunks the towel in a pail of water, clouding it. 

“I just have a lot in my mind and it’s hard to... relax, I guess.”

There’s a moment of pregnant quiet before Ven says pointedly, “I thought Aqua was helping you out with that.”

A moist squish slaps Ven on the nose.

“Now you’re being sensitive,” Ven says, pulling Terra’s shirt off his shoulder.

“You missed a spot,” says Terra, using his thumb to smear the stain across Ven’s cheek. For shits and giggles he continues upward, rubbing raccoon circles on Ven’s eyelids. “You really pull this off.”

“Do you annoy her this much?”

“She enjoys it.”

“Ugggh.” Ven throws Terra’s hands off of him, his chin tucked in so much that two layers of neck skin fold over. “Gross.”

Terra pauses. Gross wasn’t what he expected out of Ven’s mouth. 

In fact, Terra hasn’t been sure of how Ven took the news the first time. 

Oh, Ven had said when they told him Aqua was moving into Terra’s room. Okay. Cool. He shrugged as if he could have heard more exciting news, and left to take a short walk in the woods with Chirithy. The three of them never spoke about it again. Ven wouldn’t mention a word when he saw them dragging her dresser and vanity table, and seldom joined them if he heard them laughing together with the door closed. 

Things are changing in minute strokes, in seconds that cluster for as long as Terra can recognize them, until they dissipate and become something not quite foreign but never quite familiar anymore, as though where he comes from is far from home and who he thinks he knows are almost-strangers.

“Have we ever made you uncomfortable?” Terra asks. 

“What, no!” Ven waves his hand, feigning shock, staring at his shoes and everywhere else but Terra. “I mean, Aqua’s been Aqua since we got back, and you’re just weird sometimes, but—”

“Then why do you...” Terra sighs, choosing his words. “Avoid us when we’re together?”

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

An almost-lie. “I hope you don’t think we don’t want you around.”

“Noooo. Neither of you make me feel that way.”

“But you do.”

Ven lifts his shoulders higher than his ears and drops them with the same weight as throwing books on the floor. “It’s just… nothing’s the same.”

Nothing is, what with the quiet mornings since the Master is no longer here to prepare breakfast before the sun rises, or huff at anyone when they disturb his meditation. Now they’re preparing the castle for the largest student body of Keyblade wielders it’s seen in years, something Terra thought would be a good distraction for everyone. 

But Ven’s right. Home doesn’t feel like home when the floors are re-tiled, and specific rooms are repainted, and the Master’s favorite lounge chair sits empty in the same spot in the library by the fireplace. Maybe for Ven, home is the turn right to knock on Terra’s door and the turn left to knock on Aqua’s. 

“It’s weird.” Ven grimaces. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m used to talking to you about things you promised to keep from Aqua—”

“I still wouldn’t tell her anything!”

“—and I’m used to it being the three of us.”

Terra pauses. “We’re still the three of us. We’re still best friends.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it,” Ven says, smiling warmly. “You are one half of two. You share a language I can’t butt into.” 

Terra kneels onto one knee, brushing oily hair out of Ven’s face. Aqua would have liked this look on him: less spiky. “Ven, you’re always going to be a part of our lives.”

“Stop worrying. What you have is not a bad thing. I think it’s kind of awesome. I wish you’d give it your all in a fight. I wanna see what you and her are capable of together, because it’d be huge.”

“I’m only trying to say that we don’t want you to feel like a third wheel. You’re more than welcome to knock on our door anytime—”

“Ah. No. No thanks.” He shoos Terra away. 

“Why?”

“I don’t wanna see anything.” Ven squints.

Terra snorts. “You’re not going to see—”

“I don’t wanna hear about it either.”

“But—”

“Nope.” Ven covers his ears with his palms. “Nothing. No inside jokes. No pet names. Yuck. Keep that to yourself.”

Terra presses his lips together to zip up the snickering. “Okay, I won’t say anything.”

“Good. I don’t want any images in my head.” He wipes his hands like he’s done a good job explaining himself. “I should’ve expected it anyhow.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Ven says slowly. “I mean, the Master kinda knew.”

“He said something to you?” Terra asks with a shaky voice. He’s flipping through memories, when he and Aqua were very careful and very private, when they didn't touch each other in case there were witnesses near. He was so certain he’d suffer punishment if Eraqus ever found out. Lists of long essays about the dangers of being reckless with emotions every time Aqua made him laugh too much. Grueling physical regiments to knock discipline into his body every time he made bad decisions based on a tug between his legs. 

“I didn’t understand it at the time,” Ven says, leaning back on his hands and tapping his heels on the floor. “We were all hanging out, and you and Aqua left, and then he got sad.

“When I asked him what was wrong, he told me you guys created a very bright Light together. A Light bonded is a Light stronger, he said.” Ven mimics the Master’s lilts in speech, using his finger to emphasize points. “But be aware, Ven. Such a blinding Light casts an equally blinding, deep Shadow. What a dangerous force that is.”

It’s a good imitation. The ache in Terra’s chest twists into his guts and warms him at the same time, like a loving hug that squeezes too hard.

“Honestly it made me think you and Aqua were doing something you weren’t supposed to.”

“Maybe we were.” Terra’s throat constricts, his voice gravelly and his shame nostalgic. “We thought the same sometimes.”

“Which isn’t fair. Why can normal people experience that but it’s such a big deal if Keybearers do it?”

Because when you elevate the person you admire to a standard you can’t match, it makes you do stupid things. Aqua had followed him world after world, expecting it would eventually lead to a fight. Too many Keyblades in a friendship does no one good. 

To-may-to, to-mah-to. They did end up fighting, it just wasn’t his own Keyblade that inevitably hurt her. What a dangerous force that is.

“So the Master did not approve?” Terra asks.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Ven rubs his cheek in thought, forgetting all about the ink. “He said your combined Light looked beautiful and warm. And that you’d have many nights where it would be enough when it gets hard... Honestly, he only wished that you keep your head on your shoulders.”

Wishes asked for are wishes granted, the Master used to say, so long as you work for them. The years Terra had wished for this exact approval had only left him with space to forge false hope. Nothing major, nothing long-winded. Just a simple, impossible wish as they placed the flower wreath on his memorial and bid their goodbyes. 

Finally, that wish is fulfilled. As Ven grants it to him, it’s hard to believe or accept, sitting on the floor of what used to be a ballroom, covered in drying ink. 

“Thanks, Ven.” Tears cascade down his cheeks, pretending to be inconspicuous. He wipes them with his clean forearm but he can’t keep up. There’s one for every moment in the last twelve years when he wanted to apologize to the Master, leaving his eyes burning. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop soon.”

“S’okay.” Ven tucks his ankles under, giving Terra time to process. Ven knows when a topic is too sensitive. But he can also tell when enough time has passed for the raw cuts to seal, when everyone’s ready to laugh. It’s his special gift. Only after Terra slows down does Ven lean forward. “Did you know you make this ugly face when you cry? You’re a train wreck.”

Terra yanks Ven’s head under his arm (Oomph, grunts Ven), locking his elbow around the neck.

Ven beats on Terra’s biceps. “Let go of me.”

Terra summons his pauldron, elbow pad, and gauntlet—for good measure. He licks salt from his lips and smirks, clutching Ven more, sinking him into the pecs. 

Ven coughs. “You smell horrible.”

“Nasty-horrible or heroic-horrible?”

“Do you make Aqua sniff your armpit? Let go of me.”

A poor mistake. Ven tumbles back when he’s let go, but he grabs Terra’s shirt before his head hits the floor. He punches it into Terra’s stomach so quickly that Terra isn’t allowed time to react or block, leaving a sprawled, black bruise over his abs. 

“Put a shirt on,” Ven says when Terra can’t rub it off. “Freak.”

~*~*~*~

Their bedroom door is ajar. Terra hears the shuffling of feet. He quiets his arrival, crumpling his messed-up shirt in a fist, and leans on the door frame to watch her. Aqua pulls a book out of a stack deftly with one hand, the other carrying a cheese pastry. She swallows a final bite, licking her fingers (something she’d never do in front of anybody else but him), and meditates on the chew before sitting at her desk. 

He likes her best like this: half-dressed, without her usual corset and sashes, down to nothing else except her shirt and shorts, simple and free. 

Her longest scar creeps out of her backless shirt. A snake, a reminder of the damage Keyblades are capable of: they never heal and barely fade. This is why wielders shouldn’t raise them against people. 

Gluing her attention to an open book, Aqua reaches over for more cheese pastry, but her hand meets a plate of crumbs. When she realizes, she snaps up, alert as if she’s been robbed, glancing over her shoulder for signs of movement. This is also something she would not appreciate anyone else seeing, how she’s afraid of being alone, how she’s paranoid that she’s actually not.

Terra steps in and taps her shoulder before she could ask him what happened to the pastry. “That looked delicious.” 

She blinks, slowly absorbing his words; she doesn’t feel well today, nothing to be ashamed of. Terra says nothing else. This way, he doesn’t bring more attention to the fact. He won’t touch her so she doesn’t feel coddled (despite how much he wants to). He won’t crack a dumb joke when there’s better moments for them. This way, she keeps her dignity. 

When Aqua sees the smears and handprints on him, her eyes finally find reality. “What happened to you?” She stands up and swipes the stain on his chest. It’s dry but not enough, leaving a mark of gray on her fingers. 

“An accident.” Terra clears his throat, trying to seem unbothered. Just another day in the castle. Everyone gets covered in ink, what’s the big deal?

If she hears the hesitation in his voice (and she should, she knows him too well), she doesn’t care, marching to their bathroom. The sink turns on. 

“What kind of an accident?” she calls. The water flow is disturbed. She’s washing her own hands first. 

“Eh, we spilled some ink,” Terra says, praying to the stars she won’t interrogate further. He tosses his ruined shirt into a wastebasket and opens the first dresser drawer for another. Gone are the days when Terra used to stuff his clothes into a heap; Aqua likes to fold every single article, his on one side and hers on the other. 

“What does that mean?”

“It’s fixable, I promise.” At least he hopes there’s some magic spell in some book somewhere that could lift ink out of cracks of wood.

He goes down one drawer for pants and it’s the same story. 

Down to the middle for socks and underwear, each tightly rolled. Tucked into the back of this one are two newly purchased books, their hardcovers wrapped in plain paper so that anyone peeking in couldn’t read the titles. Edited with illustrations of anatomy, they are lectures of techniques on what to try with your partner. Where to place your hands, how to play with your fingers and tongues, how to listen, when to take it slow and when to take it fast...

“Here,” Aqua says from behind him. She has a wet rag. It’s warm as she gently rubs it into his skin, across the spread of his chest. Her other hand is splayed on his hip. 

Just the thought of those books now, of slipping her out of that shirt, the stains on his stomach be damned—

“Am I going to get mad at you?”

Be damned. Terra smirks in a way to invite her to join along with him. “At both of us. But... You never stay too angry for too long so… Why worry about it?”

She pauses. “What are you rambling about?”

“Nothing.” He glances away. “It happened in the new classroom.”

She digs the rag into the groove above the diaphragm as if contemplating his vivisection. A stream of water drips over his belly button, into the hem of his pants, down the dips of his pelvis, between his inner thighs. Let her get mad. Be damned. 

“How bad is it?” Her voice is hard.

He caresses the small of her back, which is right now tense and stretched as she makes herself seem taller, like she’s about to take him on. “You’re smart. You’ll figure something out.” She opens her mouth to say something and he kisses the bottom lip. “I’ll do the dishes for three months. That’s enough atonement, right?”

Aqua clenches her teeth into a false smile, nails now leaving divots on his skin. “And the cooking.”

“Sounds fair.”

“And the gardening.”

“Now you’re pushing it.”

She continues to clean him, this time rubbing harder. It leaves his skin lightly raw. “You’re not in any position to bargain.”

“Do you expect me to beg?” 

“Then beg.”

Terra would be lying if he says he doesn’t find this side of her hot. She’s a splash of freshwater that would bring him back from the brink. The woman standing in front of him chooses to clean him despite the shower being paces away. She’s the same girl who would plant an extra candle on his birthday cakes, for the year to come. To her, maybe it meant little or nothing. Stars, she’s beautiful, and he doesn’t say it enough. 

“You’re doing better,” she says, leveling her voice, nodding to herself as if checking her information. That’s Aqua. Putting aside her annoyance for the sake of making sure he’s taken care of. “You’re not flinching as much.”

Maybe. Her touch is absolutely making the hairs on his neck stand. It is absolutely driving his dick insane. “You know, Ven’s okay with us.”

She stops. “He said something?”

“Kind of. He doesn’t want to know or see or hear anything.”

Her eyes go wide. “Excuse me?”

“He never said he actually heard anything.” He kisses her temple and lets it linger there, taking the opportunity to inhale her smell. Even when she sweats and spars for hours, there’s still a sweetness. Terra laughs into her hair. “He doesn’t want to know nicknames, either.”

Aqua flashes him a look.

“Now we have to,” says Terra. “We don’t have a choice.”

“What should we use?” Aqua moves to his abs, fighting an amused smile that’s twisting its way to her lips. 

“Terr-able.”

“That one is awful. I think Terr-bear fits you better.”

“So you admit I’m big, strong, and scary?”

“I admit you’re adorable sometimes.”

Terra purses his lips. “What about you?”

She shrugs. “Maybe Aquamarine.”

“How about Aquafina?”

“That’s worse.”

“Babe?”

“Absolutely not.”

“We could call him Ven-tilation.”

“Stop.”

He follows his instinct to lower his head so when she laughs with him, their lips meet. They kiss everyday, but the first taste of the hour is always the one to discharge his breath, like he’s been underwater and she’s giving him the chance to surface. 

“You’re going to get me dirty,” she says, giggling into his mouth.

He moves to her neck. “A little mess doesn’t hurt anybody.”

It’s when he brushes his fingers across her back, skating over the scar, coiled like rose thorns, that he hitches. Across from them is her vanity mirror. The scar is still red despite its age of twelve years. He’s so stupid. 

“This again?” she whispers. She’s not upset but disappointed, though in him or in herself, he can’t tell. Moments like these are weird, when he can’t read what she’s thinking. Working on the straps on his left arm, she pulls off his gauntlet, finger by finger. 

“I wish you would tell me,” he whispers back, as if having the conversation at a normal volume would shake them up. 

She turns his bracer to make its removal easier. “I already did.”

“I wish you would be honest with me.” He leans his chin on her head, feeling her fingers slide down his arm. 

“I am.” She flicks a knob and slips off the couter from his elbow. “You want me to tell you it was you who did this to me,” she continues, unbuckling the pauldron on his shoulder. “But it wasn’t.”

“I know better.”

“I know better.”

“It was done with my hands.”

To that she says nothing, rubbing the rag down his exposed left bicep. Ink had run under the armor. Darkness seeps in even with protection. 

She sighs. “Promise me you won’t obsess over it.”

He really shouldn’t but… he nods.

Aqua hesitates anyway. Taking him by the wrist, she presses his right hand on the rib under her left breast. “This one was his.” She warns with her eyes. “Not yours.”

Terra can’t feel anything through her shirt. He slips it under, running the pads of his fingers across the bumps and ridges. This one was his, this one with the gnarly tear right through the middle of the scar tissue, a ravine rupturing open. This one would have been done by that nameless silver Keyblade, with its sharp, ornate frills and that giant hook at the tip of it. It would have caught her skin as it tried to disconnect her body from her heart. And Terra? He’s had so much to lose and nothing to give back.

Terra holds his Aqua close as he continues to read the scar, how deep the hook sunk in, how she must have dodged back and broke that connection. 

“Did it hurt?” he asks. 

She sighs like she finds something amusing. Or trying to. She shudders, closing what little is left of the gaps between their bodies. “The Realm of Darkness numbs everything. I don’t think I felt it much.”

The view from their window looks over blossoming fields under mist, what’s left of snow capping just the mountaintops, everything else green. She’s lucky. So is he, ridiculously enough. 

“I should have done more to stop it,” he says.

“You can’t continue to say things like that.” She swallows and stares at the wall. “What about the person I’ve become? I wouldn’t be here, standing in this room, now. It changed me. The Realm of Darkness did things to me that I’ll never be able to claim back. I will never be able to remedy it. I never wanted it, but I don’t know if I deserved it.”

“You didn’t.”

“I couldn’t make mistakes, in case I got hurt. I couldn’t be vulnerable. I had to be brave.”

“You already are.” 

“And now I’m like stone.”

Terra presses his forehead to hers. “No, you’re not like stone at all.”

Aqua buries her face into his shoulder, anchoring herself to his waist. It’s so unlike her, to be unable to look him directly in the eyes. Whatever she has to say scares her. “You’re here, and I’m here. I give you my scars and you give me yours and… I don’t know if I would trade that for something else. For something that looks better on the outside. Every moment we shared since you woke up, how could I want to erase them? I need you, Terra. I have to chip away somehow. I’m braver now, to hold you like this.”

She says it like she has her chest cavity open, heart beating to open air. 

She’s brave for not crying. 

She’s brave for telling him what she can’t say right now. I’m braver now, to hold you like this. (I love you.)

He lifts her chin to kiss her. (I loved you first.) 

She drops the rag to hold his face. 

Before, their kisses were desperate, thirsty and famished, hoping to be found. Now, they’re deliberate, wandering but not lost. She tastes like sugar and flesh, her tongue inside with his, slow and careful. Their needs have more definition this time: please, and more, and yes, again. 

Terra indulges in the impulse to press her onto him. She should feel how greedy he is, her chest arched against his. She’s soft and he’s in love. 

“Where is Ven?” she says, breathless. 

“Probably showering,” he mumbles.

She waves her hand and the door slams shut. 

“I said probably,” Terra murmurs, but his mind turns off when she kisses him again. Who cares what Ven hears?

Aqua treads slower. She tempts Terra’s tongue to seek her out, puckering her lips around it and giving it a small tug. 

“Touch me, please,” he begs.

The sound of his pants unbuttoning makes his heart hammer, his entire groin anticipating for what’s next. When, when, when. Terra closes his eyes. Her hand glides down, palm first, his breath snagging when she wraps her fingers around his erection. His pants are at his ankles, Aqua is on her knees, and she presses a kiss right under the tip, where it’s most sensitive, before licking the entire length. Terra buckles. He catches the dresser behind him to keep standing. 

“Shhh,” she breathes onto him. It shoots a spark from his stomach to his scalp. 

Terra braces his teeth with his finger to shut himself up. He watches her work. She takes him in bite-size pieces, snail-tracking with her tongue before her lips close in on him. Fuck. She sucks while she pulls. Fuck. To see her like this, Master Aqua with poise, with grace, with affection and care—with him in her mouth. The hand wrapped around him squeezes tighter, and the other comes up to meet him at the testicles. 

He stifles another moan, staring at the ripples of the drywall, listening to the feathered tap of spring rain on the window and the noise she’s making. His erection twitches against the roof of her mouth, and he has to restrain himself from thrusting into her. Maybe he can let go and let be, finally throw himself off the cliff, ride the thrill all the way. Give it his all.

But he can’t. The moment gooseflesh spreads across his inner thighs, the moment he feels full, is the start. The floor will rip out from under him, the lights will go off, he will fall, he will lose all his fingers, he won’t remember anything, he’ll be the monster who makes her cry.

“I can’t,” he hisses, pushing her off. “I can’t.” He lurches over his knees, his insides twisting at the sudden cutoff, aching as it throbs and shrivels. He was so close. They were just laughing a few minutes ago. Stupid body, stupid mind. “Damn it,” he groans, pounding the dresser.

“Hey, you’re okay,” she says softly, holding him by the elbow. “You’re safe at home.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.” He digs his eyes into his palm, his body faraway like it’s a glass vial with his soul dumped inside. “Help me.”

Without letting him go, Aqua braces him with something cold—the rag, now on his lower back. It slaps him back to the bedroom, his beige carpet, the mist outside clearing out to a view of a forest that separates the castle from the mountains. 

She greets him with a smile. “You really did something to yourself,” she says, cleaning him like it’s a lazy weekend day and there’s a list of chores. 

Terra straightens up, shivers riding all the way up to his shoulders. “It’s so frustrating.”

“Don’t worry, Terra,” she says, softer and lower. “There’s no need to rush. I’ll wait.”

“But I’m tired of feeling caged up and stuck. I just want some semblance of control.” 

Aqua kisses him on the shoulder to shoo away the haunting for a few seconds. “I’m here, anytime you need me. Would you like me to run you a bath?”

“No.” The rag is likely caked with ink, but its iciness is unlike the chill of clammy sweat a few seconds old. Every frigid touch is a reminder that he’s alive. “This is nice.”

Aqua runs the rag up his spine. “You know what I think? If we’re going to call each other pet names in front of Ven, we should have guests over.”

Terra snorts. “That’s evil.”

“He won’t be able to bark at us in front of other people.”

“I think I’m a bad influence on you.”

“I think you’re right.”

Terra sighs at her touch, cold at his neck, at his hairline. Like a light at the front porch in the dead of night, like hot tea on a sick day, she is what it feels like to come home.

She tells him, “Lean your head back a little,” and he obliges, letting her reach behind his ears. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen, her hair frizzy, eyes blue and focused as she takes care of him. 

“I can still kiss you, right?” 

“You don’t have to ask.”

Tilting his chin down, he does. He braids his fingers into hers; from the rag they’re like icicles, and he brings them to his heart. 

They’re barely millimeters apart, but he’s still in that cage. If only he could be touched the way he needs. If only the lock trapping him inside the cage is brittle and easy to crumble. What if he tries to test it? What if he finds there is nothing at all? Stupid mind. What if there are several, each of them needing unique keys when he has none, no hope of ever knowing what real freedom is? Stupid body. 

Should he pretend? Should he try over and over, to slam his head against the bars each time? Should he submit, should he accept he will never have what he wants? 

Life has made him uneager to trust. But her lips have a deliciousness unmatched by anything he��s ever tasted, and he’s still a silly, stupid man.

“Let me try again,” he says, breathing deeply. “I want to make you feel good.”

She’s surprised. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

“It will make me feel better.”

“...Okay,” she says so modestly. Terra never figured out how to knock it into her head that he wants to give her everything, that he is so, so guilty.

He invites her into an embrace, growing desperate the more he detaches his mind. Her body, the curve from her waist to her hips. The brush of her body against his reminds him that while he is naked, she is not. He picks her up by the thighs. Lost in the momentum of deep kisses, he carries her to bed, straddling her on his lap.

She hums. “The… the sheets.”

Dry, messy layers of ink still track down his legs. He groans into her mouth. She’s grinding him, and while he really likes that, it makes it incredibly difficult to take her clothes off, one hand rising the hem of her shirt and the other deep under her shorts, cupping her ass. 

“Whatever, we can wash them later,” she says, lifting her arms up. 

Her bare breasts—stars, this is what it feels like to come home. 

“Kiss me,” she says, and he replies, nibbling down her neck, coming down to her breasts, where his lips and his tongue and his murmurs take in her nipples as they perk. Aqua stays quiet, leaning onto his shoulders. 

There’s something about her amazing body, the silk of skin draped over defined muscle, treasure and tenderness in his hands, that he’s needy for. Every time he tries to define what that means, his mind ceases to function. 

Xehanort tried to take it all away from him. If he lived, Terra would crush every tooth bloody. Damn him.

How dare Xehanort do this to him, lock him in this cage, keep him away from her? Damn him.

Why is he thinking about Xehanort?

“Are you okay?”

Terra is frozen, the nub of a nipple suctioned in his mouth. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He lets her breast go with a pop. “I’m redirecting.” Leading her to the mattress, Terra lowers himself into her arms, but he’s halted by a light kiss and a hold of his face.

“Do you need me to check in on you?” she asks.

“No.” He smiles, kissing her with all the hope that she psychically understands his body is about to burst open, if only from the lack of space for the appreciation he keeps nurturing for her. “Thank you, but I’m okay.”

She nods, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “You take your time.”

Oh, he will. No more interruptions. Focus on the smell of her skin, on the collarbone at the base of her neck. Right here, it makes her bite her lip. On the hollow between her breasts, the sound of her breath getting heavy. On the slight movement of her legs as she instinctively responds, spreading them, hooking around his. The buoyancy of her breasts in his mouth. The way she arches to push them against his face. 

Under that left breast is the scar, tightly knitted.

The purpose for living is for memories, not reminders. Do not linger. Do not think about the cage. Terra lightly kisses it and continues downward. 

Terra’s fingers glide down, a caress at the hips, a squeeze of her ass, running a mile of goosebumps as he bunches her shorts and panties and pulls them off. Her skin is streaked with fingerprints of gray, at most of the places he’s been. Aqua shivers as his lips brush the sides of her waist, as he traces his tongue and inhales the dips of her pelvis, as he loops his arms under her thighs, as he kisses her between the legs. She gasps. He licks from bottom to top, sucking on the clitoris once, then starts over.

Footsteps walk by outside their bedroom door.

Aqua jerks up. “Terra,” she whispers, warning him.

“Hm?” Stars, what now? “Here.” He grabs the comforter and throws it over her head. She chuckles as she wraps both of them in hiding. “Relax,” he whispers back. “He’s not going to hear anything.” Not that Ven opts to stay; his footsteps are already fading away.

He goes back to work, and hears her sigh—it’s loud enough to make him look up but too hushed to escape the sheets. Bottom to top. Again. Again. She cloaks the sound of her moans with the comforter plastered on her face. 

It’s her taste. It’s the softness and suppleness of the skin between her legs. The way she fastens her knees over his shoulders, how wet she is. Her reaction. When he tongues the inside of her slit, she jerks, chewing her lip hard enough to make it white. Master Aqua, with poise and grace, for her there’s only love and the way his tongue curls up. 

Her fist crumples the sheet—it holds her own breast, caresses her stomach down to rake through his hair and hold him there. 

“Don’t stop,” she breathes.

Stars, that did it. He’s hard again. He drapes his arms over her pelvis, using his fingers to open her up so he has more access to her clit. She bucks, and he holds her down. 

Her entire body trembles: the first sign that she’s running off her own edge. 

Terra strokes her, the outside lips, the tease inside, the puckering motions. She’s a sweet, musky taste he can’t compare to anything else.

Aqua throws herself back on the pillow. Her thighs crush his head, and she clamps her hand on her mouth like a topper. Her mewl shudders and stops, it heaves, it mumbles. The wave rises then crashes, and she finishes with a long sigh, a release, a settlement, a tempered peace.

It feels so good to listen to her. Terra rests his head on her hip and brings a hand to his erection. A little bit of freedom paid with a little bit of control. 

“I’m ready,” he says. “I need you.”

She hums in contentment, fixing the comforter so they’re completely covered and opening her arms to him. “Come here.”

Terra crawls over her, bracketing her body like he’s a fort, tethering her fingers to his and cradling her head in a protective halo with his arms. Aqua has to spread her legs wide to take on his thick waist, and she breaks her kisses with whimpers when he enters—she’s always more sensitive after he goes down on her. 

She’s warm and tight, oh stars. Massaging him as he moves inside her. Their bodies compress into each other, hers curled up to mold against the way he rocks his hips, as though the subtle air between would have split them up too far, as though he can melt into her when he pushes, their hearts only separated by muscle and bone. He plants a messy kiss on her cheek, exhaling and inhaling in rhythms opposite of hers, her breath loud against his ear, tickling his neck.

Here it comes again, the oncoming of the precipice where he has to step off. 

Fuck.

He can’t do it.

At the sprint towards the edge of the cliff, he skids and scrambles to hang by the rockface. Terra grunts, all his muscles seizing up as he holds his breath.

Aqua strokes his hair. “Do you want to stop?”

Of course not. “Give me a minute.”

“Remember, you’re safe.”

Terra nearly chokes. “I’m scared of losing control.”

“You won’t. You’re in control.”

In control. The intent to wring his fingers through the bars, a sleight of hand to balance the padlock like it’s on strings, turning it over and pulling it out of the latch. But Terra is no escape artist. 

Terra licks his lips. He’s not in danger. He should trust she’ll catch him when he falls. In her arms, there’s no safer place to be. He has to remember this. Shut that mind up.

“I want to continue.” 

She rubs his back. It’s soothing. “Tell me what you need.”

Terra smirks. “To get back in the mood.” He takes one deep kiss. “Entice me.”

Her insides squeeze him and he trembles. “How is that?” she asks.

“Do it again.”

She wraps her ankles over his back and squeezes. He hums into her shoulder. 

“Again.”

This time, she takes back her kiss.

“Don’t let me go,” he says, and she hugs him tightly. 

He starts slow. Terra leans on his elbows, bunching the comforter in his fist so it stays in place. She looks at him with half-lidded eyes, a healthy red blush, her mouth gently open, cast in the filtered glow of a secret, sweaty cocoon. This body he’s thrusting into, the lips he’s kissing, may the stars bless her. 

“Aqua.”

“You feel so good.”

She stole the words right out of his mouth, squeezing his hips again. 

“Oh,” he moans. It provokes him to thrust harder, deeper, feel her, feel her breasts bouncing under him, feel her moans coming from her throat, the desperation in the way she squirms with her hands. She massages his slick back, her nails digging in.

There. 

Let him throw himself off. Give it his all.

“Don’t let me go,” he repeats.

“I won’t.”

He throws himself off. It’s not the wind thrashing him all the way down. Instead it’s fire, a combustion of flames in his muscles as his entire body submits to its force, leaving his knees weak. A flash of white that blurs everything he sees, a hurricane that knocks his mind into a stupor, a delicious burn that slicks over his body, trickling embers on top of sweat, hot and cool, good and better, good and fucking good. Terra shoves his face into her shoulder to muffle the sounds of groans escaping him, shuddering as the climax picks up again, a body alight in an ignition that throws him out of any awareness. 

His eyes prick when he finally remembers where he is. Aqua is safeguarding him with a strong hold, keeping him in place with her. He sighs. The cinders that continue to radiate heat leave him with a hearth to wrap himself into, a happiness that he never thought he would ever feel again.

Aqua sniffs. She wipes tears onto his shoulder.

“We really should stop crying at these things,” he says.

She snorts, refusing to let her grip on him slack. “You did amazing. How are you feeling?”

“I’m…” he mumbles. Stars, wow. His arms can’t pick him up anymore but it’s a gratifying cloud to ride. He shifts his legs, alleviating the weight of his body. “A little weak.” 

She runs a hand on the back of his head, coaxing him to rest on her chest. “When did you know?” she asks, brushing hair off his damp forehead. “That you wanted to kiss me? You must have spent some time thinking about it before it happened.”

Terra smiles into her chest. Somehow, they’ve never talked about it. “Long after I knew I was going to marry you.”

He feels her laugh. “Is that so? I’m going to marry you?”

“You will.” He looks up at her grinning face. “I can see the future.”

She scoffs. “You can see my eyes rolling at you.”

“I knew before you did.”

“Prove it.”

“I was seven.”

“You’re older than me, that doesn’t count.”

“You asked me to have a tea party with you, but the one thing that bothered you most”—he brings up his hand, pinky out—“was that I wasn’t drinking my tea right.” He mimics the high pitch of a little girl’s voice. “Pinky out. Pinky out, Terra, don’t be a slob.”

She gapes. “I don’t remember any of that.”

With renewed will, he props himself up, leaning close so their noses touch. “I knew then. That early on.”

“Since when is this a competition?”

“Still the first to know.”

Aqua interrupts what she’s about to say, like she’s about to step into cold water. She’s having an epiphany. Vulnerable again, like she’s allowing him to cut her right down the middle. 

“I love you.”

She says it like the touch of a high note on a piano, a beautiful accident. 

He leans closer, lips to lips, whispering, “I still got there first.” 

She laughs into him. “I suppose, but I was the first to say it.”

“Then I’ll be the second,” Terra says. Like coming home, a shelter to withstand the downpour, that births life to the roots, that thunders, that opens for a clear day, he brushes her hair out of her eyes. “I love you.”

“Too,” she corrects. “You love me, too.” 

A knock on their door jolts them, like a hard punch to the stomach.

“Okay, Terra,” Ven says from the other side. “I thought about it and I’m trying out this knocking thing.”

Wrong timing. Wrong timing.

“I’m going to kill him,” Terra hisses, and against Aqua’s hushed chuckles, he throws the comforter off their bodies and announces, “Ven, we’re naked.”

The silence that comes after is as loud as the crash of a chandelier. Terra can feel Ven recoil, a tea pot at the verge of whistling. “I didn’t need to know that!” Terra is about to reply but Ven groans dramatically. “I AM NEVER GOING TO KNOCK ON YOUR DOOR AGAIN.”

Ven stomps away, and if the door was actually open, he’d slam it. 

Terra sits on his knees, pinching his nose. It’s hot in this room. He feels clogged again, back at the edge of the cliff. He wants to strangle Ven for dragging the moment away from him. “Great, I pissed him off.”

“Poor Ven.” When she sits up, Terra pulls her to him, sitting her on one of his thighs. “I can’t predict if he’ll ever get over that,” she says, balancing herself by hooking her arms around his neck. 

Terra presses his lips to her ear, whispering, “But I did predict that you wouldn’t stay mad at me for long.”

She slaps his bicep. “I haven’t seen what you’ve done yet. Don’t be so proud of yourself.”

“But I am.”

“You’re still a slob.”

Slobby as he is, Aqua hugs him dearly. Hold her, you never know when the dream will end. You never know when the cage takes you back.

“I don’t know if,” Terra says, “it will be difficult for me next time.”

“Then it may be difficult,” Aqua says, kissing his forehead. “But it will be okay.”

Hold her. Not passively. Not half-minded. Hold her tightly. Hold her in the quiet, undisturbed, uninterrupted.

A drop of hot liquid spills from between her legs and drips down his thigh, almost burning. When Terra looks down to see that it’s white, Aqua jumps.

“Oh,” she squeaks.

“Oh. That would be me.”

She squeals, hiding her blush. “I’m going to wash up.” 

“Such a slob.”

Aqua giggles, looking him in the eye when she rubs his chest. “Come with me?”

“Go ahead.” He kisses her. “I’ll catch up.”

If anyone told him twelve years ago that hope feels like a long day full of small conversations, the anticipation of cleaning a messy room, Terra would have considered that cynical. A sarcastic joke, the loss of the will to dream. 

Twelve years later, it’s the sound of the shower running that teaches him to look forward to the next day, when he wakes up next to her, when he prepares dinner with her, when he kisses her in the middle of the night and play all over again. Peace is a long-distance acquaintance, a pen pal that urges you to look at your day like a spectacle.

Terra leans back to twist the latch of the window open, letting the spring haze billow in. Much better, the room is cooler now. The sky is bluer somehow, the mountains as grand as a painting.

#terraqua #terra #aqua #terraqua day #ventus #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #smut #lemon #AHHHHHHHHH #it's finally here #i am so fucking nervous #my fic

[xserpentlife]

More

Requested: Yes - Can you please do a smut where the reader is sweet innocent she is popular and best friends with Cheryl but is secretly sleeping with sweet pea but they actually have quite kinky sex and shocks him when she whispers something dirty to him at school in public in his ear so they go back to his trailer and bang and when their done Jughead goes to sweet peas trailer to tell him about a meeting or something and is shocked to see a naked y/n wrapped in his sheets.

A/N: Hey guys hope you enjoy this one, keep requesting moodboards, stories, fsm’s, etc i love doing them. I forgot to mention that I also wrote this with @riverdalebingo​ in mind cause it fills the orgasm torture square.

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk

You were never the girl to be out in the open, at least not sexually, I mean sure you were popular, best friends with Cheryl Blossom, queen of the school, however, you and her acted completely different. She was confident, you, on the other hand, were not. Dating Sweet Pea was an entirely new game though. Sweet Pea at first thought you were sweet and innocent, thought that you were shy, and you were but you were also the complete opposite in bed.

See no one knew you and Pea were together, it wasn’t a thing of keeping it hidden but instead more the fact that you just didn’t tell anyone. Being best friends with Cheryl and her dating Toni meant that you were around Sweet Pea and Fangs all the time, you and Pea fell into a rhythm. The first time you met you walked along Sweet Water River while Cheryl and Toni made out by the bonfire. Talking through the entire night led to a kiss at the end… kinda. 

*Flashback*

“Can I kiss you”

“Who said you had to ask…”

“Shy Y/N is a little frisky huh?”

“Guess you’ll have to get to know me to find out” with a peck to his cheek you turned and left

*flashback over* 

From that moment on Pea pined towards you, he craved you. Craved to know more about who you were, wanted to understand your every thought, what your favorite food was, favorite color, what went through your head with the faces that you made in response to people. He was so intrigued by how different you were when with him by yourself in comparison to the outside world. 

It really got to you though. Not being able to tell the world that you and Pea were together slowly but surely was killing you on the inside. You were in love with him, every second of the day you craved him. The warm vanilla woods smell, the giant hoodies you would always steal, even the flowers he would always pick from whatever he could find to bring to you. Though you were from different worlds, there was no one you felt that would be more perfect for you than him. You were tired of hiding. It wasn’t that you both decided not to tell anyone, it was more so something you fell into to protect one another, but you were tired of it and you wanted to put an end to it. 

Today on your way to school you knew you wanted today to be different. You were prepared to start a slow process towards being able to finally let people know about Pea and yourself. You strutted into school ripped jeans rolled up with a crop top and one of his flannels over it. You always tried not wearing his things in public, afraid that people would know, but you wanted to, today you craved him more than you ever had, and you couldn’t explain it. 

“Y/N”

“Hey Cheryl”

“We have cheer practice later, be there early”

“I can’t come today” You knew today was not gonna end well if you weren’t with Pea so you lied to her saying that you had to deliver something to a friend in Greendale.

”Fine, but I expect extra practice on Monday”

“You got it, I’ll catch you later, I’m going to the lounge to see Betty”

“Hey Betts”

“Hey Y/N how are you?”

“I’m doing pretty good”

“Did you find anything out about the case you're working on for the paper? You watched as Pea and Fangs came barging in landing on the couch in front of you both. 

“No, sadly”

“how’s everything with Jug”

“Great, I actually have to go meet him now actually,  you coming to practice later?”

“No, I have to bring something to Greendale, figured I’ll just go extra hard on Monday”

“Okay well, maybe we can hang out this weekend?”

“Definitely I’ll see you later” 

“Bye,” You watched as fangs got up walking over to the vending machine and talking to Ash another serpent. Pea looked up smiling at you. You got up leaning over and bending down, ass towards him grabbing your backpack from the floor as you began to walk towards the door. You brushed his arm with your hand as you walked by, before turning around to his back and stopping. You walked to the back of the couch leaning over and whispering into his ear.

“Meet me at your place after school, I need to feel you...” 

Pea didn’t expect you to ever say anything to him at school, let alone whisper into his ear so seductively. He knew you wanted to be punished, knew you were craving it. No one was paying attention so Pea turned around and came up and grabbed the bottom of his face as he pulled you down to his level. “Trying to be a bad girl, huh, I’ll be there after you, I want you undressed on the bed understand” You whimpered nodding as you began walking away. 

You had an hour or two before Pea would be home, so you hopped into his shower, preparing yourself for the night ahead. You laid on the bed waiting for him to come home, an hour later. Hearing the door open your heart began to beat. Pea came in unclipping his belt buckle and pulling it out of his waistband. He came over making it into a pair of cuffs and putting your hands up to the bed frame, with your ass in the air. 

“What’s your safe word princess”

“Bubbles”

“That's right baby, you say that if you want to stop understanding?”

“Ok”

“What was that?”

“Yes sir”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought” You felt a quick slap to your ass as you moaned wanting more. 

“More” 

“Beggars never get what they want princess, but maybe just this once” He crawled onto the bed his lips placing slow kisses down your back, until you felt his hand once again come down onto your ass, knowing you’d have a bruise by the end of the night. The bruises you craved. He let your wrists go for a moment, confusion overrunning you until you felt your ankles being grabbed and your body twisted as you landed on the bed once again. “Arms up princess” Your arms were tied to the headboard legs spread as he placed a kiss to the side of your neck, then to your lips tongue licking for entrance, which you so willingly gave, a surge of pleasure running through you as you moaned into his mouth once you felt the vibrator on your clit. 

“Fuck”

“You like that princess” You nodded head turning to the side as you knew your pussy was growing wetter than it was before. Every few seconds the speed would turn up more and more. Pea’s way of teasing you. 

“Sir I’m close…”

“Sorry princess no cumming yet, can’t let a naughty girl cum so soon, you know you made me really horny earlier at school”

“I’m sorry but please, I need it” You were so close to cumming, your orgasm almost there until he took the vibe off your clit, and your body jolted from loss of touch. “Sir why”

“As I said, you’re not allowed to cum yet”

“Yes sir” he unbuckled you once again this time leaving you on the bed for a moment

“Get down here, and kneel” You climbed down the bed kneeling on the pillow he placed on the floor for you as you looked up at him, his hand coming to your hair and gripping your head just how you liked. You unzipped his pants slowly pulling them down his legs followed by his boxers as he kicked them to the side. 

“Gotta work for it princess” you spit in your hand and took his semi-hard cock in it, pumping slowly. You started stroking his length from the base and dragging your fingers towards the tip. You noticed and felt his cock get harder in your hand, feeling the vein that was ever so recognizable to you now. The first sign of precum dripping from his tip. You brought your lips down kissing the top of his cock and slowly licking the precum from him. Your mouth opening slowly as his cock slid in ever so slightly. You felt him hit the back of your throat. 

“That’s it. Take it deeper, all the way down your throat.” He coaxed as you curled your tongue around his cock. “Fuck your mouth feels so good princess”. You began slowing down a little bit, knowing what he would do if you did. You felt him push his cock deeper, you opened wider. “Want more huh?” You nodded yes, cock still in your mouth. He began thrusting faster, saliva dripping off his cock every time he pulled out slightly. You were so out of breath, he could tell, he sensed everything with you. He pulled out smacking his cock onto your face, he then put it back in shoving it deeper and deeper, choking on it once more. Even so much as keeping his cock in your throat, until you pushed him away slightly. “No no baby, keep it in I know you can” he pulled out spit dripping from everywhere tears flowing down your face. He put it in again hand wrapped around your hand as you shoved you onto his cock, you sucking as much as you could. “I’m gonna cum princess, right on that pretty face okay”. You felt his warm cum drip onto your face, not able to open your eyes. You heard him moan, and grip your hair just a little bit tighter as you felt his release land next to your lip. You brought your tongue out licking some of it up before you felt his finger wiping the cum from near your eye. “Thank you so much princess, felt so good, now I’m gonna make you feel good”. 

He grabbed the ropes from under the bed, tying your arms together in front of you while also tying the vibrator to it, he turned it on right on your clit. You couldn’t move, you were tied up. No matter how hard you tried to get it off you couldn’t. You were so sensitive from before it hurt but felt so good. 

“Sir I want to cum”

“Not yet...” You were pulling against the ropes, body jerking from the pleasure, you wanted so bad for him to allow you to cum. You felt his finger enter your pussy as you moaned out in pleasure. “So wet huh princess” He climbed up towards you, placing a kiss to your stomach before bringing his fingers to your mouth. “Want you to taste yourself” you opened your mouth slightly, his fingers sliding in, as his other hand was brought up to your breast. You watched him lean down, his lips carefully going around your nipple as he began to suck. You were feeling pleasure from so many places and your mind was racing, breathing heavy body shaking almost to the point of not being able to hold in your orgasm and he knew that, but he also knew over stimulation was your favorite. 

“Please, sir, I need it please”

“Aw but princess you look so pretty like this, I think you can hold it a bit longer” You’re so close, your body begins to tense, he can feel you start to shake. “Okay princess, cum for me”. Your body shook, your mouth moaned out in pleasure as he bit down just slightly onto your nipple. Your pussy was so sensitive, you were so tired, body still shaking from your orgasm. The vibrator still tied to your clit.

“Sir, please take it… off”

“I don’t think so baby, I think you can handle just a bit longer”

“Can’t…” Your body kept shaking there was no stopping it, your pussy was so sensitive. You sighed whimpering again, as you felt another wave of your orgasm pulse through you. You started crying from the sensitivity, the pain, and the pleasure. You pulled against the restraints of the ropes. 

“Pea… need it… off, can’t...” He started turning the vibrator down slowly, untying it from the rope. As he leaned down carefully running his fingers over your sensitive clit as your body shook, his lips placing a gentle kiss to your swollen clit. You leaned back onto the pillow, your body coming down from it’s height. He untied the ropes from your wrists, placing gentle kisses to the spots where there were marks. He crawled up to your lips placing gentle kisses along your collarbone and neck before making it to your lips. His hand came up pushing the hair out of your face. 

“You did so well for me princess” You smiled up at him, starting to nuzzle into the pillow behind you. “Wait, don't sleep yet”  He leaned over the side of the bed grabbing your water and making you take a sip then grabbed the crema for your wrists before he laid down and had you lay on his chest. He listened to your breathing start to slow. You always got tired after intense play. He always promised to stay next to you after, knowing you couldn’t sleep without him there. You fell asleep, nuzzled into his side as his hand brushed through your hair. 

Pea sat peacefully stroking his hand through your hair, the calmness and the closeness of the both of you after was one of his favorite things. He started to carefully move your head off of him so he could go to the bathroom, he was getting upright when he heard his bedroom door slam open. He looked up to see Jughead standing at the door mouth agape. He got up shoving him out of the room, carefully closing the door. 

“What the fuck are you doing, in my trailer!”

“Serpent shit, what the fuck are you doing fucking Y/N”

“It’s not any of your business”

“It is when her best friend hates the Southside”

“How did you even get with her, she is the literal opposite of you”

“Does it matter, again, none of your business”

“It is when Cheryl tries to ruin us every chance she gets!”

“No it’s fucking not because she isn’t like that. If you people would stop judging her based on who she is around there wouldn’t be any issues. You don’t even fucking know her, let alone do you understand her! She is nothing like Cheryl, but she and Cheryl have known each other since diapers Y/N is not just gonna leave her to dry, and she is trying to get Cheryl to understand we are not bad people. I care about her and she cares about me. Plus what the fuck does it matter!”

“Again Pea, I don’t give a fuck how she is people can change in a second, don’t expect to come to me when she breaks you heart, shes a fucking Northsider they are all the same and all they want to do is ruin the gang”

“How bout you Northside girl Jug, you know the one you want to make the Serpent queen, who isn’t even Serpent blood, you can’t say shit to me. Why don;t you try giving people a chance for once. You want all of us to accept Betty but yet you won’t even try to accept the people we ant to be with, now get the fuck out of my trailer, and don’t you dare say anything to anyone about her and be got it”

“What, she afraid to tell people about you”

“God no you fucking idiot, we are just being private about it, slowly  getting there, we don’t need to shove our tongues down each others throat in public to know we care about each other”

“You really care about her don’t you”

“Yeah I do, now can you leave cause I left while she was sleeping and in about two mins she is going to freak the fuck out”

You felt coldness around you, you didn’t know why so you started to stand up before you saw Pea enter the room. 

“Hey princess”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s great, was just grabbing you some apple cause I know you get hungry”

“I get hungry? I think you mean you”

“Fine, we both do”

“You okay”

“I’m great, I just… do you think we could, maybe go to school together tomorrow”

“I’d love nothing more princess” he placed a quick kiss to your lips before sitting down next you, you laid your head on his chest as he turned on a movie, and you fell asleep once again. 

#sweet pea x reader #sweet pea smut #smut #riverdale smut #riverdale x reader #riverdale x you #riverdale x y/n #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #sweet pea #sweet pea X #sweet pea x you reader insert #sweet pea x you reader #riverdale x

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Bury Me Face Down

A Max Phillips x Reader BTVS AU One-Shot

Summary/Author's Note: You are a Slayer. One girl born into the world for the sole purpose of hunting down the paranormal and keeping people safe. But what happens when the Order you work for sends you a Vampire to be your mentor?

Okay. I caved. An idea that stemmed entirely from my wife @vaxxildan and was pushed upon me by a few of my favorite people. (/Cough/ Stevie, Rachel, & Ash) so, fuck it-- this is part of my Follower Appreciation Week. I love you girls. This is a ONE SHOT for now. I may do drabbles or another part if inspiration strikes but I have a lot going on at the moment. [Title Song]

Pairings: Max Phillips x Slayer!Reader Word Count: Warnings: R--Blood, language, death, violence, stabbing/staking, sassy douchebag vampire Max in all of his glory, sexual tension/themes

[MASTERLIST] 

"And I haven't seen him in five days! He's a good boy--gets straight A's! He's going to be a lawyer, you know?" She blew her nose into the overused tissue in her hands as you slid the entire box across the desk and she mumbled her thanks.

"What was he majoring in?" You said, trying to connect to the crying mess of a woman in front of you.

"Philosophy." She blubbered out and as she blew her nose the man sitting next to you let out an undignified snort.

You glared at him and he tried to turn the laugh into a cough before motioning to the client. "Excuse me," he apologized with a nod. "Please continue, Mrs. Garcia." 

"Ms." She corrected, batting her big, watery, doe-like eyes at him.  "I'm divorced."

Unbelievable. This suburban soccer mom was crying to you to find her missing son, and she still couldn't resist putting the charm on your partner. You knew this was the effect he had on normal women, but it still never ceased to baffle you. He gave a small smile and another nod, correcting himself and addressing her by the title she offered and asking her once again to go on with her story. 

"Like I said," she put her hands in her lap and played with the pleats of her skirt. "I haven't heard from my sweet Jason since last week." 

"Did anything new happen to him the last time you spoke?" You asked, jotting down a few quick notes on your yellow pad of paper. 

"No, I don't think so. Wait--" she said, abruptly making you look back up. "He met a girl."

"Oooh, nooo," your business partner said next to you, his voice sounding full of utter despair, drawn out just enough that the client would think he was sincere while you knew he was mocking her. You kicked his foot under the table and he bit his lip. 

"Do you think that's important?" She asked hopefully and you made another note. 

"It's hard to tell, Ms. Garcia. Anything else?"

"He said he has been feeling really tired all the time. Like no matter how much he sleeps, he is always so drained." 

"Maybe he has mono."

"Max." You hissed, kicking him again as the woman blew her nose loudly. 

The truth was you knew what was wrong with her son. It was the same thing that had been wrong with five other boys at the community college on the other side of town. All of their parents had sat across from you in this office, begging you to find them and bring them home safely. 

Max cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Ms. Garcia, does your son play sports?"

"Why, yes," she nodded. "He plays varsity soccer. He's on a scholarship for it."

"Ah, I thought that might be the case," he nodded and you wrote it down. Max never took notes and it drove you up the fucking wall. 

"Is that a clue?" She asked, hopefully. 

"Just trying to find out as much as we can." You looked at the photo that she had brought, and felt a little saddened. Should you tell her that her son was dead? That he wasn't coming home? As you looked at the smiling yearbook photo of such a handsome young man it really struck you that you were tired. So very tired. "May we keep this for your file?"

"Of course. I brought extra." She said, somewhat proudly as she patted her knock off Michael Kors bag in the chair next to her. 

Max glanced at you and saw that you had retreated back into your thoughts. After six months of working together, he knew when it was time for a breather. He looked back to the client and adjusted his suit coat before standing up. 

"That's all we need for now, Ms. Garcia. We will be in touch if there is anything new or if we have more questions." He walked around the table and waited for her to grab her purse before he led her to the door. 

"You have my number, correct?" She looked up at him with hopeful eyes as he towered over her. 

"Yes, it's in your file." He gestured back to the table. 

"Feel free to call me, anytime. And I mean...anytime." She touched his yellow pocket square on his chest and he chuckled deeply. 

"Of course," he said, moving her hand off of him like it was something slimy and undesirable. She didn't seem to notice.

You rolled your eyes as the door clicked shut behind her and Max leaned against it with a heavy sigh. "Really?" You asked and he raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Do you have to do that?" You ask, gesturing to the door. 

"I was absolutely, one hundred percent, professional."

"Ah, yes, I forgot you cannot control the hordes of lonely women that throw themselves at your feet." You scoffed, gathering your notes and the papers from the Garcia file and stacking them neatly. 

"It isn't my fault that my powers don't work on you. If they did then maybe you would believe that I didn't have any control over that situation," he waved his hand in a circle indicating the woman who had previously been occupying that space. 

Max was right about that. Since the day you met, his telepathic powers of suggestion had failed to work on you, and it wasn't for his lack of trying. You had chalked it up to your natural Slayer resistances. Just another talent in your arsonal to go with the above average strength, extended life span, and ability to get your ass handed to you by the undead and walk away without so much as a limp. 

He shimmied out of his suit jacket, hanging it on the coat rack before moving back to the desk and sitting on it. "Besides," he grinned down at you, letting one leg hang off the table and leaning in close. "She's not my type."

"Get over yourself, Phillips." You rolled your eyes and walked over to the swivel chalkboard, turning it from the blank side that clients got to see, to the side that was full of your current notes on the situation.

"Ouch, back to the last name?" He put his hand over his heart like he was in pain. "Come on, Pookie. I thought we were past this?" 

Six months. Six whole months had passed since the Watcher’s Council had sent the most arrogantly frustrating man you had ever met to your doorstep. Max Phillips was, on the outside, the definition of most of the Watchers you had had the pleasure of meeting. He was intelligent and well read, but he was also vain and meticulously well dressed. His three piece bespoke suits were always pressed and tailored, his tie was always bright and made a statement, and you could have seen your reflection well enough to do your makeup in his leather shoes. His brown eyes sparkled as brightly as his jeweled cuff links, and his charm was only matched by his wit. The only unorthodox thing about him was that he wasn’t human. 

Before Max came into your life you were under the impression that vampires weren’t allowed on the Council. And until Max, that had been true. It went against everything they had stood for for the last thousand years or however long they had been in business. That business being to hunt and eradicate people exactly like Max. But someone on the council had fucked up--and fucked up big time. It was their fault Max was the way he was, and to make good on their transgressions they cut him a deal. Instead of death, they restored his soul, made him a Watcher, and after five years of service, he could be a free man...err, free undead man?

“Why won’t you just cut to the chase and tell her that her son is either dead or a vampire?” he asked and you shook your head. 

“We’ve been through this, Max,” you said thumbing through the file and getting familiar with everything you two had learned from your new client. “If we told them that, it would scare them off--we have to hold out hope.”

“I mean, sure, if you want to give them a nice comfy sense of delusion.” He shrugged and started to turn but stopped on his heel. “I’m still charging her our full rate.”

“You’re heartless.” You looked up from the file and narrowed your eyes on him. 

“Yes, exactly,” he gestured to his chest and said slowly like you were hard of hearing. “V-am-pire. Remember?”

“I meant your lack of empathy for humans never ceases to shock me.” 

“Honey, I was an asshole before I was turned,” he continued to hold his hand to his chest. “I may have died but my personality carried over into the afterlife.”

“Lucky me.” You gave him a large smile that was entirely too much teeth. Everyday with him was exhausting, just once you wished you could find a way to shut him up. Peace and quiet. A Max-less thirty minutes to hear yourself think would have been the best present he could ever give you. 

You moved to the chalkboard and taped Jason’s picture next to the line of other dead college boys. Of course there was a chance that Ms. Garcia’s son was still alive, but you seriously doubted it. By the time they came knocking at your door, most of the time, it was way too late. You had lost count of how many times you and Max had already solved the case before you even got up from the table. The two of you would share a knowing look as the person on the other side of the desk told their sob story, and by then it was all said and done.  

Max picked up a piece of chalk and blew the dust off of it distastefully. “Who still uses chalk? Can we at least get a smart board?”

“We can’t even afford a dry erase board, Max.” You took the chalk from his hand and tried to ignore the lingering brush of his fingers against the back of your hand. 

Times had been tough. You had opened this little detective business out of necessity for money, not many places were hiring someone with your specific background and skill set. But there had been an alarming increase in the amount of vampire related deaths in this small town, and that was something you could help with. 

“You asked if Jason played sports,” you said, writing your notes neatly next to the boy’s picture. “Was there a point to that question?”

“There is always a point to what I say.” He grinned, unclipping his cuff-links and starting to roll up his sleeves. 

“Max.”

“Okay, okay,” he held up his hands in surrender as he leaned his ass against the desk and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Write this down. The first kid played football--”

You started a list at the top of the board and wrote down each sport as he ticked them off on his fingers.

“Then we had lacrosse,” he tapped a different picture on the board. “Track. Swimming. And then--” he tapped his finger on the last boy in the row and bit his lip. “What was this one?”

“Ultimate Frisbee.”

“Right!” He snapped his fingers and shook his finger at you in conformation. “The one you thought wasn’t a sport.”

“Because it’s not.”

“And that’s where we disagree.”

You rolled your eyes and finished writing the list of sports off to the side. Crossing your arms, you shook your head. This wasn’t much to go off of--all victims had been junior or senior boys, all played sports and had the reputation for being stereotypical jocks. But despite what little they all had in common, so far they had all met the same end--left in the middle of the woods, completely drained of blood. 

“Look on the computer,” you said. “See if there are any cemeteries close to the university.” Max sat behind the desk and opened up your laptop, typing in the password and clacking away at the search engine. You looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “How do you know the password to my computer?”

“The same way I know you’re wearing that t-shirt bra for the fifth day in a row,” he mumbled without looking up. “I’m observant.”

You looked down at your chest on instinct before glaring back at him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Well, cut it out.”

“As you command, sugar tits,” he smirked and before you could say anything he turned the lap towards you and pointed to the map of the university. “There are four cemeteries within hunting distance--but I say we start with this one.”

“Why?”

“It’s the only one with a mausoleum. Doesn’t matter the flavor of vampire--we all gotta sleep somewhere when the sun comes up.” He smiled, looking somewhat proud of himself and the expression almost made him look endearing. Almost. 

“Good job, Max.” You nodded before moving to write the address on the chalkboard and put it in your phone for later. 

“Oh, say that again--but slower.” He pouted his lips and pretended to give a full body shudder and you contemplated punching him. 

“Get some rest,” you tossed him the manila folder to put in the filing cabinet. “Eat,” you nodded to the mini fridge that contained his snacks from the local blood bank. “Be ready to go by nightfall.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, giving you a small salute after catching the folder. As you grabbed your car keys off the hook and your jacket off the coat rack, you could almost feel his eyes on your ass. Nothing in the world could have made you give him the satisfaction of letting him know though, but you did slam the front door a little harder than normal on your way out. 

--

The cemetery on the other side of town was just like every cemetery you had ever been in since you took on your role as a Slayer over a decade ago. You thought things were simpler back then, but looking back you weren’t entirely sure how you had lived this long. Slayers were notorious for burning bright and dying fast. They were an intense flame that danced with danger so often the odds were never stacked in her favor when it came to living to see the next sunrise. 

It was these odds that took your first Watcher from you. He was everything Max wasn’t. He was soft spoken, kind, and he cared for you. Against the Watcher’s code, he became the father you never had and in the end it had gotten him killed. Maybe that’s the reason they sent you Max in the first place, you needed someone to look after you that was a little more sturdy--a little less human.

You shined your flashlight on the ground as you and your partner walked another line of gravestones. This was your third lap around the plot lines and thankfully Max had been quiet for most of it. 

“You think she’s going to show?” he asked, putting his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

“She?” you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Call it a hunch,” he shrugged.

“Oh, I gotta hear this. Please share your theory, Detective Phillips.” You tried to scoff but it turned into a laugh as he smiled sheepishly. 

“All the victims are male. All of them are jocks--most likely douchebag muscleheads--”

“Are you familiar with the type?”

He ignored your quip at his expense and continued talking. “I’m guessing we are dealing with a female vamp, scorned by an ex boyfriend and now that she has the power to do something about it, every poor sap that resembles him is getting the ax.” He drug his thumb across his Adam's apple and made a ‘ack’ noise in the back of his throat. 

“Solid theory,” you nodded, having to hand it to him.

“I’m also guessing she’s freshly turned by how messy the kills are and the tearing on the bite wounds.”

“Tearing? The police reports didn’t say anything about tearing.”

Max nodded and looked down at his shoes as the two of you turned the corner of a new row of gravestones. “Vampire fangs are like hypodermic needles--hollow on the inside. Let me show you.” You both stopped and he turned to face you. He held up his first two fingers and curved them down to imitate fangs, placing them on the side of your neck. “If done correctly and you bite straight down, then pull straight back up once you’re done,” he mimicked the action with his hand, pressing the blunt edges of his nails against your tender skin, making your arms break out in goosebumps. “The bite is hardly noticeable.”

“And if you pull out too quickly or to the side, it tears the skin?” You asked, swallowing hard and letting your shoulders relax as he moved his hand away from your neck. 

“Exactly,” he nodded. He held your gaze for an extra moment before clearing his throat and the two of you continued the path down the middle of the road that led to the mausoleum. “Unless you’re an experienced vampire, you don’t have the control to keep the bite that clean.”

“Charming,” you grimaced and he chuckled.

“What? Does a big, bad slayer like you not enjoy talking about fangs and blood?” He teased and you stayed quiet. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like talking about those things, you lived those things, fangs and blood were a part of your daily life. It was that you weren’t particularly fond of hearing him talk about those things. Lately the moments it became increasingly apparent that Max was undead had started to make you uncomfortable. But like all thoughts and feelings you didn’t fully understand, you pushed them down and compartmentalized them until they faded away. 

A crash of glass came from the back of the stone building and you thanked the universe for saving you from having to answer Max. The two of you looked at each other and you dropped your shoulders to let your leather jacket slide off into your hands. 

“Show time?” you asked, putting the jacket over a small statue of an angel with outstretched arms. 

“Absolutely.” Max mirrored you with his suit coat. He left the cuff-links at home to make it easier to roll up his sleeves. He adjusted his tie and tucked it into his vest for dramatic effect and you fought not to roll your eyes. He cracked his neck and if you weren’t staring at him you would have missed the flash of yellow amber that engulfed his normally brown irises. You were never going to get used to that.

You had a wooden stake in the holster on your thigh, freshly sharpened and ready for whatever was about to come around that corner. You hoped this was the vampire that had been killing all of those boys. You hoped this was the night that the two of you could finally stop this string of murders and crying parents.

“Take right, I’ll take left,” you nodded your head in each direction and watched as Max returned the motion before disappearing into the shadows on his side of the building. 

With eyes and ears straining for any sign of movement, you were careful of your steps. Your boots found easy purchase on the soft, marshy ground as you scanned the treeline on the other side of the pointed wrought-iron fence. Freshly turned baby vamps were your least favorite. There was a certain level of feral-ness to them that made them more dangerous. They lunged, they fought, they bit and scratched without abandon. Their actions were unpredictable and sporadic as they literally fought for their life with about as much coordination as a baby deer with too many teeth. You knew the myth that baby venomous snakes were deadlier than their parents--well, it was actually true when it came to vampires. 

Another sound came from the back of the building and you quickened your pace. Just as you topped the small hill at the back of the crypt a blur of white hit you at full speed like a freight train. Your back hit the ground hard. The dull pain of a stone or something blunt on the ground blossomed  between your shoulder blades and took the air from your lungs. Whatever had hit you landed on top of your chest, making breathing more difficult than it already was.

“Fuck!” you gave a strangled gasp and threw your forearms up to cover your face and neck. 

Just like you expected, it was a vampire. If it was the one you were looking for, that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was getting it off of you. 

It’s blonde hair fell around you as she hissed and spit and flashed her fangs. Her face was grotesque, pinching in the middle towards her nose, her cheekbones sat way too high up on her face, and the curve of her eyebrows arched in an almost cat like way that made her skull look perpetually angry. Her yellow eyes looked sickly and diseased, the black of her pupils forming into an elongated slit.

You pulled your fist back the second she closed her mouth and punched her in the jaw. She reeled back a bit but it didn’t get her off of you. “Have you been killing those boys at the university?”

“They got what they deserved,” she snarled and you nodded. 

“That answers that.” 

Max had been right and you were never going to hear the end of it. You pulled your knee up and tried to press it into her chest. With the right amount of leverage, she toppled backwards and you held onto her letting the momentum pull you to your feet. You stumbled and caught yourself on a gravestone catching your breath before she grabbed you by the hair and slammed you into the marble wall of the crypt. You bit your lip, refusing to cry out and instead said through gritted teeth, “Where's Jason? Where’s your new boyfriend at?”

“Dead,” she smirked, pinning your arm behind your back and leaning in to whisper against your hair. “Where’s yours?”

“Right here!” Max said as he barreled into her and took her to the ground over one of the benches intended for visitors and mourners. He grabbed her by the base of the neck and snarled in her face as he bounced her skull off of the sidewalk. 

His face was contorted much like hers and as you slowly got to your feet, you forced yourself not to look away from it. That was the real him and you didn’t see it as often as you probably should in order to remember that. You pulled the wooden stake from its holster and started walking towards them.

“Max!” You called and he looked over his shoulder and caught your eye. 

He looked at the stake before giving a short nod and flipping the two of them over. He braced his arm as he held the snapping, snarling woman away from his face and you stood over her. With a raise of your arms and a quick line of sight to make sure you hit the heart, you brought the sharp piece of wood down into her back and felt it go through to the front of her chest. 

She screamed, jaw widening before her entire body exploded in a cloud of black dust that quickly dissipated into the night air leaving no trace of her existence. You let out a hard breath and held out your hand to help Max stand up. 

“Thanks,” you said, as he took it and got to his feet. 

“Any time.”

“She got the jump on me. I’m off my game.” You shook your head and silently cursed yourself for letting it happen. 

“I see that.” Max motioned to your cheek and you watched as his pupils dilated like a great white shark. His face was once again the smooth perfection that it always was, but his eyes stayed that alarming yellow.

You touched the apple of your cheek and it felt wet, the bright red drops of your own blood sat on the tips of your fingers. “Shit.” It was as if bringing your attention to it made a dull ache settle on the side of your face. “I guess she got me against the stone.” You nodded back to the pillar of the crypt and went to wipe it off on your jeans.

“Wait,” Max said curtly as his hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist. The muscles in his neck twitched and if he had a working heart you were fairly certain you would have been able to hear it from where you stood. His tongue licked his bottom lip slowly.

“Max--” you cautioned, starting to pull your wrist back but his grip tightened. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said, flatly.

It wasn’t a command, it was a challenge. If you wanted him to stop, he would, but he was banking on the hunch that you didn’t want him to stop. He knew that after months of back and forth, of testing each other, and pushing one another’s buttons, it was bound to come to a head eventually. If you were being honest with yourself, Max fucking Phillips was the only constant thing in your life recently, and that should have scared you to death. 

“Even I know--it’s a shame to waste a single drop of Slayer blood.” He brought your fingers to his mouth and held your gaze as he wrapped his lips around them, hollowing his cheeks gently and sucking the small amount off your skin. You bit your lip and blushed as he freed your fingers with a gentle pop and hummed. “Just like I thought.”

“What?” You asked, hating how breathy and soft your voice was.

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

The groan that came from the back of your throat was downright shameful but you wanted to do anything in your power to wipe that look off of his face. If you looked insufferable up in the dictionary, you knew there would be a picture of Max, but that didn’t stop you from raising up on your toes, putting your hand behind his neck and crashing your mouth against his. He closed those unnerving yellow eyes and dropped his head slightly so you didn’t have to stretch as far. When you felt his large hands settle on your hips, you knew it was game over. 

Max tasted just how you thought he would, like expensive liquor and a twinge of copper, the latter not being something you particularly wanted to dwell on. You gave up control of the kiss and let his tongue slip inside your mouth and taste you as well. Fair is fair. When you tried to pull back his head followed you like a dog on a leash and you gripped his hair to keep him at a distance. 

“Oh, boy--” you said, any anticipation you felt was mixed with the regret and trouble that would undoubtedly come with kissing Max Phillips. 

He chuckled deeply and wet his lips again with his tongue, the action plucking the chords of things low in your body. “Oh, boy, is right, sugar tits.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you sighed heavily and shoved him back against the concrete before devouring his mouth with your own again. Maybe if he didn’t speak you could pretend like whatever was happening wasn’t the end of the world as you knew it. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled against your lips as he bent his knees slightly and put both hands under your thighs. As he lifted, you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist. Once your arms securely around his neck, another moan bubbled out of you when he flexed his hands on your ass. 

You thought you would never hear the end about his theory being right about the vampire, but this--this was a whole new level of trouble. And trouble was never something you wanted or particularly went out of your way to seek, and yet, it always seemed to find you.

--

Tag List: @stevieharrrr​ @winters-buck​ @zeldasayer​ @rae-gar-targaryen​ @sendhoots​ @seawhisperer​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @robbinholland​ @scorpionsandhoney​

If you want to be added to my permanent tag list please let me know, I need to get one together for my one shots and stuff. 

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #bloodsucking bastards #Pedro pascal #pedro character fic #katryns FRW

[specterchasing-a]

I'll Stick With Being Human || Milo & Eddie

TIMING: 2015

LOCATION: White Crest High School

PARTIES: @wickedmilo​ & @specterchasing​

SUMMARY: Milo and Eddie wind up together in detention... again. Eddie talks about believing in vampires, but Milo’s not buying it.

Realistically, Milo knew smoking during the detention he was being given for smoking wasn’t a very smart idea. But he wasn’t good at making smart decisions, and where was the fun in following the rules? If he was in trouble for smoking on school grounds, then what did he really have to lose by smoking on school grounds? A genuine question, one he was confident he knew the answer to. Besides, he had a lookout this time. A friend he had met on multiple occasions during his after school adventures. It seemed they both had a habit of getting caught out, but clearly their punishments were doing nothing to deter them. Every now and then another student would join them, people would come and go. But Eddie seemed to be a constant, and he was grateful for that fact. Pushing the window open as far as he possibly could, he knew from experience they probably had ten minutes before a member of staff returned to check on them, so he sparked up, glancing back towards Eddie who was peering through the glass in the doorway. 

“You can’t be fucking serious.” He muttered, in response to his company's previous statement. They had shared many conversations about ghosts and ghouls, Eddie being a very avid believer in the supernatural. He was more than willing to humour him, especially given how well it managed to pass the time. But vampires? Vampires might be pushing it. He exhaled a breath of smoke, laughing easily as he pulled a nearby desk towards where he was standing. Clambering to sit on it, the height didn’t give him much of an advantage, but it allowed him to better direct the smoke outside. “What, you think they sparkle?” He teased. He couldn’t say he knew very much about ‘vampiric’ lore, beyond what he saw in modern mainstream media. No doubt he was about to learn an awful lot, but he was never going to walk away with the same level of conviction. How could he? “Don’t you think if vampires existed, people would have figured that shit out by now? Hey- keep watching the hall, dude! If I get another detention because of you, I’m taking you down with me. You know that, right?” 

Eddie never learned how to keep his mouth shut. Teachers issued warnings, but he couldn’t resist the urge to give voice to whatever thoughts he deemed important enough. More often than not, his chatty nature landed him in hot water, not that he minded. With Milo around, detention wasn’t all that bad. With most of his fellow students, Eddie understood the importance of keeping his cards to his chest. If he mentioned ghosts or other such creatures to them, it was more than likely that he’d wind up ridiculed—or worse. That wasn’t the case with Milo. Sure, he liked to tease Eddie about his theories but mostly he just listened. Eddie appreciated that about him.

As soon as Milo offered his rebuttal, Eddie rolled his eyes. The scent of smoke stung his nostrils, inspiring a grimace to form. “Ease up, Summers. If you get caught, it’ll be thanks to that stench, not me,” he warned, but quickly directed his gaze toward the hallway to be safe. As far as he could tell, the coast was clear. Eddie’s arms folded over his chest as he leaned against an unoccupied desk. “The whole point is that people already know about vampires—just not, y’know, everyone. And, no, they don’t sparkle… probably.” Admittedly, Eddie didn’t know enough about vampires to relay any facts with unshakable conviction, but that didn’t dissuade him from his belief. 

“But, if you look at an obscene number of deaths in White Crest dating all the way back to the 1700s, you’ll notice a pretty obvious pattern of neck punctures and exsanguination. You can’t tell me that doesn’t seem pretty fuckin’ weird to you.” Eddie eyed him pointedly as if daring him to argue. “I’m right about this, I know I am. I just… have to figure out how to prove it conclusively, is all.”

Milo pointedly exhaled a breath of smoke, blowing it towards the open window before turning to watch as it was pulled outside by a barely existent breeze. “A smell doesn’t prove anything.” He countered. “So long as they don’t see me smoking, it isn’t like they can do shit.” That probably wasn’t true, but he would much rather believe it was. “The whole point is sooo not that people already know about vampires,” he laughed, allowing himself to be drawn back into the conversation. He often liked to tease Eddie about his beliefs, though it was all in good nature. There was no harm in the way he saw the world, and if he was being entirely honest, more often than not, he was genuinely interested to hear more. He wasn’t the type of person to admit that, so he continued their discussions with playful jabs, and questions intended to catch out his friend. As far as he could tell, Eddie didn’t mind. 

“Probably?” He raised his eyebrows, his eyes shining as he took another hasty drag from his cigarette. “Look, every small town has weird deaths. Come on, I mean small towns are already fucking weird. No matter where you go there’s some urban legend, or cryptid living in the woods. It’s just shit people made up to entertain themselves before tv became a thing.” Pausing to think for a moment, he wasn’t sure how to explain the puncture wounds. Then again, he had never seen proof or done any research. For all he knew, Eddie’s information was biased. “What about the vampires in Victorian London? You know those creepy stories of people climbing out of their graves? I read an article about that once, the vampire even made the papers, but everything had a logical explanation. Stuff wasn’t exactly reliable back then. People were confirmed dead all the time when they were just… I don’t know, taking a nap or something. And you think animals don’t go for the neck sometimes? Or people don’t get carried away with their kinks?” He grinned, watching to see if Eddie became flustered, or took the comment in his stride.

At the mention of kink-related deaths, Eddie let out a huff of laughter. “What a way to go,” he mused with a smirk, trying to ignore how warm his cheeks suddenly felt. With how sex-obsessed boys his age were, Eddie quickly learned the importance of seeming comfortable discussing the subject. Still, he much preferred talking about vampires; he understood them better.

“Look, I’m not saying that mundane reasons for puncture wounds don’t exist, y’know, they do, but what if that’s not always the case?” Eddie’s shoulders raised along with his eyebrows. “Not to sound completely unhinged, but maybe—just maybe—Vampires don’t want people to know about them and, over the years, they’ve been covering up the truth with logical explanations. They’re immortal, they’ve got plenty of free time to do so.” 

Eddie glanced back at the hallway to make sure Milo remained unspotted, quickly returning his attention to him when all was clear. “And who’s to say that logical explanations and the supernatural can’t coexist? The same result can occur even with vastly different triggers. If we hold on too tightly to what we understand, we’ll never find out how massive and diverse the world really is.” 

Milo laughed, smoke unfurling on his breath. “I’m sure there are worse ways.” He pointed out, tapping ash onto the window ledge before sweeping it away with his hand. He could see the faint blush on Eddie’s face, but did nothing to draw attention to it. He was more than satisfied by his answer, and making him feel self conscious would be far more malicious than a few playful comments about sex. “I mean, even if the puncture wounds aren’t coming from something mundane, I’m just saying it’s a bit of a stretch to assume mythological creature, you know?” Laughing again, he took one final drag of his cigarette before killing it and throwing it outside. It would only land on the grassy bank two floors below, nobody was ever going to notice. “It’s too late,” he teased. “You sound unhinged, but that’s why I like you.” 

Sliding off of the desk, he made a point of dragging it back to where it previously had been, deciding to wait before closing the window so that the smell of smoke had longer to dissipate. “You know, I get it. If I was a vampire I wouldn’t exactly want people to know.” He admitted, thinking about it very briefly before continuing. “But don’t you think like, with technology and shit like Twilight, people might start to notice if vampires were actually out there?” Grinning easily as his friend began to talk in his usual way, passion lacing his tone as he fought to sound reasonable and profound, he took a seat back at his allocated desk. He couldn’t hide the affection he felt, and couldn’t deny the fact that Eddie did sound reasonable, and profound. But he wasn’t about to give in so easily. “What’s the scientific explanation for Edward sparkling? That’s the real fucking question here.” 

At the mention of his theory being a stretch, Eddie responded with an indifferent shrug. “To reach the truth, sometimes a little stretching is necessary.” He thought about his ability to see and hear ghosts, how no reasonable explanation for that existed. It seemed a little far fetched to think of himself as an anomaly. Others had to be out there. 

“You sound unhinged, but that’s why I like you.” Eddie blinked in surprise at Milo’s comment, a slow grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Careful, or I’ll take that as a greenlight to unload my even weirder theories.” He liked Milo, too. On a few occasions in the past, he thought about asking if they could hang-out outside of detention, but could never muster up the courage to go through with it. Regardless, he had no trouble considering him a friend.

“I mean, people have,” Eddie replied enthusiastically. “If you look online, there’s plenty of people discussing the existence of vampires and there’s no way they’re all bullshitting.” As soon as Milo sat down, Eddie took a trip to the desk next to his and seated himself. His knees tucked under the metal bar connecting the chair to the flat surface of the desk so that his attention was solely on his fellow delinquent. “There’s even talk of slayers; people born to hunt vampires. Just because the media refuses to cover something, doesn’t mean it’s not out there.”

When the conversation circled back to Edward Cullen, Eddie laughed. “Who’s to say? Maybe vampires just have a thing for glitter. But, in reality, they probably don’t get a chance to sparkle for too long before they burst into flames.” He went quiet for a moment, deep thought furrowing his brow. “Y’know, I read a lot about supernatural beings and, with some, I can’t help but think how cool it would be to be like them, but vampires? Mostly, I feel bad for them.”

“I don’t know if scientists would agree with that logic.” Milo teased. “But every YA author out there is screaming. You should write a book.” Laughing easily at the mention of wilder, and weirder theories, he wasn’t surprised Eddie had them. And he would be lying if he said he wasn’t secretly interested in hearing more. But instead, he matched his friends grin, tilting lazily back in his chair. “We can save those for double detention, they sound like they might take more than an hour to get through.” 

Raising his eyebrows, at his friend’s following comment, he shot him a pointedly skeptical look. “You have been on the internet, right? Are you sure these aren’t just people trying to will their fantasies into existence? Do you know how many girls cry themselves to sleep because they aren’t about to marry a vampire who sparkles in the sun?” Turning slightly as Eddie took the seat beside him, he picked up the pen he had abandoned to smoke, tapping it absentmindedly against his desk. “Wait, so Van Helsing is also out there?” He was feigning disbelief again, making out he didn’t genuinely want to know, but he had a feeling Eddie recognised that. They had spent far too much time together now for him to buy into the disinterested act. “I’ve never actually heard anyone talk about slayers before.” He admitted. “Not in the context of like, conspiracy theories.” 

His eyes shining as the conversation inevitably circled back to Edward, it felt good to make Eddie smile. Regardless of why they were both in detention, it wasn’t exactly a great way to spend an hour of your time afterschool. Eddie made it bearable for him, and he liked to think he did the same in return. “Burst into flames like an explosion? Or is it not that dramatic? I like the idea of being incredibly extra. If you’re gonna go, why not do it in a burst of fucking flames.” His smile faltering as the joking began to ease up, there weren’t many things he considered during their conversations about the supernatural. He listened, he laughed, he encouraged. But this was interesting, why would anybody take sympathy for a creature that was historically supposed to be bloodthirsty, and out of control? What lore did Eddie know? “You do?” He asked curiously. “Why? They get to live forever, and have cool powers, right? Doesn’t sound so awful to me.” 

Eddie had very little interest in fiction, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t dream of one day knowing enough about the supernatural to write books. Most people would disregard them, but he hoped that some would take him seriously. “I’ll make sure to get into even more trouble than usual,” Eddie promised, not that it took much effort from him.

“Yeah, I know it’s not always smart to believe what you read on forums, but some of these people really sound like they know a thing or two.” Eddie needed some of the claims to be genuine. If they weren’t, it meant everything he knew was built on lies. 

When Milo feigned disbelief, Eddie responded with raised brows and pursed lips, still unable to completely erase his grin. “Yeah, they’re like, total badasses who do everything they can to keep vampires off the streets. They’re basically superheroes.” But, no matter how much Eddie wanted to root for slayers, he couldn’t find it in himself to want all vampires to die. Most of them didn’t ask to be creatures of the night, it seemed wrong to paint them all as villains.

“Your guess is as good as mine but, now that you mention it, I hope there’s some flair.” Eddie should have hated detention, but Milo actually gave him a reason to look forward to it. They didn’t have a lot in common, but they kept each other entertained. Eddie didn’t know many people who made him laugh like Milo did, it was nice. 

“I dunno,” Eddie said when the laughter died down. “If you ask me, the whole immortality thing sounds like a raw deal. They’re destined to outlive everything they love. And then there’s the whole needing to drink blood to survive—what if they don’t wanna hurt anybody? But, y’know, they have to or they die slowly and painfully. No more sunlight, no more normal life, just shadows and blood. I don’t think there’s a superpower out there that would make a life like that worth it, do you?”

“I feel like you don’t need any help with getting into trouble,” Milo pointed out. “But then neither do I so I guess I’ll see you same time next week?” Humming quietly in response, he smirked at Eddie, unable to help himself. “You said that, not me.” There was no harm in checking out forums, of course. And it seemed to make his friend incredibly happy, but he wasn’t about to ruin their dynamic by being supportive. “Anyone can sound like they know a thing or two, I could probably convince you I’m a doctor with all the useless knowledge my parents have forced on me over the years. But please don’t let me anywhere near medical equipment, you know? I’m a liability.” Laughing at the idea of slayers being superheroes, he had only ever seen one trashy Van Helsing movie, but his mind decided to conjure the image of its serious, angsty protagonist proudly wearing a bright red cape. “Maybe don’t tell the slayers that, they probably have better fashion sense...” 

Clicking his pen so that he could doodle on the desk as he listened, he found himself drawing a stick figure with fangs. He was tempted to surround the figure in flames, but the thought made him feel a little guilty. Maybe he had been spending too much time with Eddie. “I feel like if there was flair, the viral videos would be endless.” He pointed out. “If we’re really going with vampires being legit it’s probably quiet, and highkey depressing.” A frown creasing his brow as he added a cape to his miniature vampire, he began to colour it black, needing to make it clear it wasn’t a tacky superhero rendition. “If they stick with other vampires then maybe the immortality isn’t so bad.” He murmured thoughtfully. “But yeah, I guess maybe the other stuff doesn’t sound so great. I think I’ll stick with being Human. Can’t come to detention if I have to avoid the sunlight, and then who’s going to keep you company?”

Eddie grinned broadly at the mention of seeing Milo again the following week. It felt nice to have a schedule involving arranged meet-ups, even if they were obligated to be there. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he mused. Milo launched into a short speech about the importance of credible sources and, as much as Eddie hated to admit it, he made a fair point. “Okay, yeah, you’re not wrong, but I’m not giving them permission to remove my appendix. I’m just reading what they have to say about Vampires, so I’m probably safe unless a creature of the night decides to give me a graded pop quiz on their species,” he explained with laughter bubbling beneath his words. “Maybe, but I kinda hope they don’t. They already have superpowers, why would they need to top things off by being fashionable? That’d just be unfair.”

Eddie’s gaze landed on Milo’s doodle, the sight prolonging his grin. If it had been drawn on paper rather than a desk, he would’ve liked to have kept it. “Yeah, I think humanity’s the way to go,” he agreed as he finally looked back to his friend. “I look forward to wasting my mortality with you by spending it in detention.” Maybe next time he’d see about making plans beyond school property. 

#c: milo #wickedswriting #writing #i'll stick with being human #// if i went to school with eddie i would've stolen his lunch money

[angelrider13]

Alright, so I mentioned in discord yesterday that Thalassa’s been dimension hopping. (We all have that one OC.) She’s currently hanging out in MDZS/Untamed world and causing chaos - as she does. @starofthemourning asked what specifically she was getting up to. So have a ramble!

- Thalassa was just minding her business, cruising through Death’s realm as she does from time to time, visiting past children and friends, helping newly deceased souls cross over, etc., etc., when she gets yoinked into a completely different land of the living.

- Thalassa: Toto, we are not in Eos anymore.

- She’s been summoned into the body of a young woman by a group of demonic cultivators that pushed some buttons they should not have. They are a cult, because of course they are, and Thalassa has no idea what’s happening, but they are cuckoo bananapuffs and leaning WAY too hard on the cult thing - virgin sacrifices, child sacrifices, torture, lotsa bad things. Thalassa in her new, 100% human body, says no.

- Enter JC! Who, as we know, hunts down demonic cultivators with a single mindedness that is probably more than a little unhealthy. And this is...I’m saying like 3 years after WWX died, so some things as still fresh (and also, other people are still alive to react to Thalassa and her...Thalassa-ness).

- JC arrives to find that Thalassa has already solved the problem. Very thoroughly. This strange woman covered in blood, with lines of fire burning across her skin and a smile that’s all teeth and gold, gold eyes that burn with power, escorting children and missing travelers out of the smoking ruins of their former prison, carrying the dead and dying with her. Because she cannot save them, but they will die free.

- JC is immediately Suspicious. This woman is not a cultivator. She is also not human. He is sure of it. He absolutely cannot prove it. (The body she’s currently inhabiting is human, she used to be human in body and soul and still is to an extent - she’s not lying.)

- Thalassa ends up being dragged to Lotus Pier along with some of the kids she saved, because orphans and we all know that Thalassa can and will adopt everything that breathes if it stands still long enough. She has technically done nothing wrong and has earned the gratitude and good will of quite a few people, so it would look bad if JC just disappeared her. But Something Is Afoot, so JC isn’t about to let her go gallivanting across the countryside either.

- Thalassa notices pretty quick that these people bow a lot. In greeting, in farewell, to show respect. Thalassa is Not About That. She is the Sea and the Sea Does Not Bow. It’s not such a big deal at first because the circumstances of meeting are...messy. But once they’re in Lotus Pier, people start noticing that she never bows, even after they’ve bowed to her, and they are Offended. The only ones that are not are the kids that she adopted. No one says anything at first, but they all make spectacular pissy faces that Thalassa delights in. JC eventually snaps at her, snarling about respect, and Thalassa calmly replies that if she ever bows to him or anyone else, they will have earned it. (”I have only ever bowed to my Mothers, to Death and to the Light of Dawn, and no other.”) JC, knowing that she’s not human, but not knowing exactly how, doesn’t bring it up again.

- Thalassa likes Lotus Pier. It’s bright and colorful and loud and surrounded by water. It’s not as good as her waters, of course, but it’s nice to be able to swim when the mood strikes. It’s nice to be able to swim with the children, nice to know that everyone learns to swim at Lotus Pier and that they take it seriously. The first time she catches JC teaching the kids she brought with her to swim she stares because he’s not gentle exactly, but...softer. These people operate on different rules than her, but it’s nice to know that somethings always stay the same.

- It takes Lotus Pier a little while to figure out that they’ve been adopted, but they get there. Thalassa is the weird big sister/aunt/mother figure that will be getting you into trouble one moment and then helping out get out of it the next. She doesn’t bow and they don’t make her. She’s chaos in human skin, but some of them (far, far too few) remember that Lotus Pier has always had a soft spot for chaos gremlins and their antics. It brings smiles to their faces when they see this strange whirlwind of a woman trail after their Sect Leader, tugging at his sleeves and leaning into his space and laughing with a smile brighter than the sun when he swats at her, a secret grin tugging at the corners of his scowl.

- At some point, Thalassa meets other sects. It goes...well it goes. For maximum chaos, let’s say its a discussion conference. At Jinlintai. Which brings us right back to the Thalassa and bowing thing.

- JC and YunmengJiang have been dealing with Thalassa’s bullshit for - months? a year? who knows, it’s been awhile - at this point and know that it’s better to just Roll With It.

- The rest of the cultivation world has very much not learned this lesson.

- The Lan are Offended. So Offended. Depending on the Lan, at least. LXC is pretty chill and would probably also be offended, but not let it bother him much. LQR leans so much on propriety that he might just qi deviate. LWJ also leans pretty heavily on propriety but he is also that person who is So Done With Everyone’s Bullshit that he’ll just walk right out of the room so who knows.

- The rules of propriety! Broken!! Without cause or care!!! The Lans are flipping their shit. Quietly. And with great dignity.

- The Nie also kinda offended, but not nearly as much as the Lan. It’s not often that a woman will look Sect Leader Nie in the eye and refuse to bow to him, but NMJ can admire the guts it takes. He’s also the most likely to bring it up and Thalassa will calmly tell him what she tells everyone who asks - that she does not bow. Most especially not for social niceties that mean next to nothing at the end of the day.

- She absolutely bonds with NHS over the arts. He shows off his fans, she does a dance or two with them, they ramble at each other, they are now best friends. (JC is in the background being a Dispair because he knows, he knows, the NHS is an Enabler. He should never have allowed them to meet.)

- The Jin...well. Thalassa is a woman. Thalassa is very pretty. Thalassa knows she is very pretty and flirts as she pleases and moves with a grace that draws many a eye. And JGS...is JGS.

- You know that post that’s buried in my STotS story tag where Mera, literal Queen of Atlantis, breaks a man’s arm because he put his hands on her without her permission? I’m not saying that happens...but that 100% happens.

- JGS tries to be all smooth and Thalassa is Not Having It. She is well aware that 1) this jackass is married AND absolutely does not have the permission of his wife to fuck around and 2) JGS has a reputation among women. And it is not one that endears JGS to her.

- So he puts his hands on her. Pulls her close and tries to flirt. She tells him to let go. He smiles in that ‘aw you’re playing hard to get, how cute’ way that he probably thinks is charming but really wants to make women punch his face in, and gropes her. So Thalassa breaks his arm, snaps it in her hand and doesn’t let go. She uses the pain and the leverage of her grip to force him to his knees before her.

- It draws attention. JGS doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who gets in physical fights much - he probably doesn’t have much pain tolerance. He’s likely screaming. And you know cultivators are trigger happy little shits so swords are drawn. Thalassa smiles, all teeth.

- JGS is probably demanding that JC ‘put his woman in her place’. JC, having witnessed what happened and far less inclined to put up with this man than he was in the immediate aftermath of the Sunshot Campaign when all he had was the ashes of his sect, is having None Of It. He’s like well if she’s my woman why are you touching her and if she said no, why are you still touching her?

- NMJ approves. JGS deserves this. He’s had it coming for years. He is so happy he gets to witness this. As far as he’s concerned JGS brought this on himself and if he can’t handle it, maybe he should try keeping his dick in his pants.

- Thalassa is not impressed. She’s heard the titles thrown around. Sect Leader, Chief Cultivator, Your Excellency. She is well aware that leaders do not represent the entirety of the people, yet these people overthrew a tyrant and let this take his place? (”So you allow an oathbreaking rapist to lead you. This explains so much.”)

- JGY steps up and tries to smooth over the situation. Thalassa does not allow it. (”The next time he touches me, I will cut off his cock. If any woman he’s touched comes to me for help, I will rip out his intestines and strangle him with them.”)

- The Jiang are the only ones who know that she means this 100% literally. More than a few of them are okay with her following through. JC is standing at her shoulder, glowering at the whole room because Thalassa is one of His People at this point and you better believe he’s not going to let someone, not even another Sect Leader, not even the Chief Cultivator, disrespect her this way.

- JGY continues to deescalate with varying levels of success. (Thalassa is old. She is old and has lived through much. She knows what a viper looks like no matter how honeyed the words or how silver the tongue or how sweet the smile. This child thinks he can manipulate her. How cute.)

- In the end, no action is taken against Thalassa. JC is loud in his defense of her actions and NMJ and LXC side with him. JGS was in the wrong and his behavior was disgraceful. The Jin have no choice but to concede fault.

- Thalassa may or may not spend the rest of her time in Jinlintai teaching as many women as she can how to cripple a man twice their size.

#sweat tears or the sea au #ffxv x mdzs #a sea of lotus flowers verse #think i'm mostly gonna stick untamed canon cause that's what i'm most familiar with #thalassa out there not caring one wit about your social norms #for thalassa this is some time post astral war but pre ardyn #because i said so #thalassa adopts lotus pier and is adopted in turn #jiang cheng has Mine instincts as strong as any lucis caelum's #jiang cheng wonders why he keeps getting attached to chaotic assholes #he should know better #and yet #give thalassa an excuse jgs #just one excuse #thalassa still here not caring about politics #her stance remains: i'm right prove me wrong #it continues to be effective #especially when she shoves their own shameful behavior in their faces #thalassa for the rest of forever: hey remember when i broke your arm? #...if you ask me about this i'll probably ramble more

[whentommymetalfie]

Breathe Again -Chapter twenty

Interlude two -fallout 

prologue//one//two//three//four//five//six//seven//eight//nine//ten//eleven/twelve/thirteen/fourteen/fifteen//sixteen//seventeen//eighteen//nineteen

Chapter Summary: Lizzie meets Arthur during her morning walk. 

Wordcount: 1800 

Warnings: discussions of mental illness and suicide 

As soon as she sets foot on the grassy field, Lizzie spots the lanky figure sat by the riverbank, dark and blurred at the edges by the fog clouding the outer perimeters of Arrow House’s grounds. It’s not a surprising sight, and she lets a sigh escape her as she approaches. Cyril on the other hand barks happily and she lets him off his lead, allowing the dog to galop over the wet grass, tail wagging.

Lizzie quietly walks up to them, lighting a cigarette. She pulls her coat tighter around herself against the raw damp in the air. The wet grass chills her feet through the thin leather in the fashionable boots. At least she was wise enough not to wear heals.

Cyril skids to a halt by Arthur’s side, tail still wagging and he reaches out to scratch him behind the ears, without turning his eyes away from the grey river. The edges are lined with a thin layer of ice, but the water is still swirling slowly in the middle, pumping through the countryside like a cold vein. Lizzie studies his sorry form.

His trousers are wet, far up over the knees, boots muddy, and the coat seems to swallow him whole. Stubble is covering his cheeks and his eyes are red and watery. A cloud of putrid whiskey smell hangs around him. She pulls a drag of smoke deep into her lungs and waits for him to acknowledge her presence.

“Interesting story in the paper today, eh, Lizzie?” he says, finally, without looking up. “Does it feel different now, when you’re officially the owner of… all of this?” He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand and his words drip with a tired kind of bitterness. “Apparently it’s enough that your spouse signs a few papers and then you’re officially fucking dead. Assume that’s why you did it, to get-“  

“Don’t assume, Arthur. That will do you no good,” Lizzie replies and sits down in the grass next to him, disregarding her expensive coat. She has the money to buy a new one every day for the rest of her life, should she fancy it. What does it matter?

They sit in near silence, save for the quiet hum of the river. It seems so useless these days, trying to fill silences with polite small talk.

“Michael came to me with the papers,” Lizzie says once she’s inhaled a few more lungfuls of smoke and damp air. “Gave a very long speech and made it perfectly clear what I stood to lose if I chose to be uncooperative. I have two kids. I won’t let him destroy what’s left of my family.”

Arthur glances at her.

“You could’ve come to me. Or Ada-“

“And you would’ve done what?” she asks and Arthur’s eyes sink back into the depths of the river. Cyril whines when he stops petting him to link his hands together around his knees. A tower of ash has formed on Lizzie’s cigarette and she barely remembers to tap it off before it falls down onto her coat. She takes a final drag before stubbing it out in the grass. “Of course I would’ve liked to tell him exactly where to stick those fucking papers. But where would that have gotten me? At least now I own the estate myself. And Tommy’s shares of the business. We have more leverage.”

Arthur snorts.

What good does leverage do in a war you’ve already lost?

“He’s not dead,” he says.

Lizzie lights yet another cigarette.

He shakes his head, all the lines in his forehead deepening as he stares at the water. As if it owes him answers. “I would’ve found him. I’ve looked… I’ve looked fucking everywhere, and I can’t find him.”

“Arthur-“

“Don’t use that fucking tone” he hisses. “I haven’t just lost it, like everyone seems to fucking believe. It’s- it’s the only logical explanation. He can’t just have vanished. He would’ve washed up somewhere.” Swallows, to make his tongue form the impossible words, “His body.”

“You didn’t come and visit too often,” Lizzie says, her tone calm and lacking blame. Just voicing a truth they both know. “You didn’t see. Most of the time he was so far gone he couldn’t even hear me. Didn’t know where he was. Where would he have gone?”

Arthur scoffs, “ ‘course you wouldn’t understand. You don’t care whether we fucking find him or not.“

Lizzie’s eyes glint dangerously, but a call in the distance shifts her attention from Arthur.

“Mummy!”

Ruby comes running over the field, laughing, with her tiny arms flailing and her braids bouncing around her shoulders. Charlie is following close behind and latches onto her arm when she nearly stumbles over a tuft of grass. Frances is standing in the distance and Lizzie waves at her as the kids make their way towards her, and she returns to the house when she sees them reach her safely.

“Oh Ruby, love, you need to wear your coat! It’s freezing out,” Lizzie chides gently when Ruby flings herself at her back, arms looping around her neck, but a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. The ice melts from her gaze.

“I tried telling her Liz, but she wouldn’t listen,” Charlie says and puts his hands on his hips, shaking his head as he looks admonishingly at his little sister. She just laughs -her brother is the funniest person in the whole world. Charlie folds his brow into a meticulously thought out frown, “You will catch a cold.” And he wags a tiny finger at her, trying his very best to be a stern older brother. The display is somewhat ruined by Cyril as the dog sits up and licks a stripe up his face. He is very pleased when both kids occupy themselves with petting him, coats and brotherly duties forgotten for now.

“Hi uncle Arthur!” Charlie says once Cyril has been properly greeted. “Why are you all muddy? Did you also come out here to play?” Arthur ducks his head, scratching the back of it.

“Nah, I-I-“ a desperate glance in Lizzie’s direction saves him.

“Charlie, why don’t you and Ruby take Cyril with you and go inside?” she says and pulls his cap down a bit further on his head. “I’m sure Francis will make you some cocoa to warm you up. I’ll bring uncle Arthur with me and you can talk more later. Maybe even show him your train track.”

Arthur clears his throat and manages, “Got a train track, do you, Charlie?”

“Yes, and it’s very nice too!” Charlie says proudly and positively beams at his uncle. “You can even drive it if you want.”

All Arthur can manage in response is an awkward grunt, but Charlie doesn’t seem bothered.

He takes his sister by the hand and together they run back towards the house, Cyril hot on their trail. The promise of cocoa has effectively made them forget about everything else.

Lizzie watches them go before getting to her feet, brushing herself off and nodding towards the house.

“Come on, at least have a cup of tea. I’d offer you whiskey, but I think you’ve had your lifetime cut of that already.”

And then she turns and begins walking back towards the house. After a moment’s consideration, Arthur follows.

They don’t say much on their way back. Simply walk side by side, Lizzie with the cigarette between her lips and Arthur with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat.

“Do they know?” he asks. Tries to clear the rasp to his voice by coughing without much success, before adding, “the kids.”

She shakes her head slowly and savors the burning smoke going down her lungs, giving her time to form an answer. “I couldn’t tell them. These past months have been so difficult, but it’s finally better. I want to give them time. And they’re so young. How would they understand?”

Arthur makes a noncommittal grunt that could mean anything.

“They think he’s- that he’s away because he’s sick and needs to rest. They knew, of course, while he was still here, that something was wrong. So they accepted it, even if it took time. They ask about him sometimes.” The questions are few and far between these days. Lizzie doesn’t mention that. “I try to make them remember the good parts. He at least deserves that much. Even if-“

The rest of the sentence is left to hang in the damp air, but Arthur’s eyes go a few shades darker. They both think of the article.

“I’ll tell them the truth, when they’re a bit older.” “And what is that? The truth”

Lizzie stops abruptly then, grabbing his arm and halting his step. Forcing him to face her and he yields as if he’s a brittle branch being tossed by the wind.

“That he’s dead, Arthur,” she says and he flinches, as always when someone tells him. “And you need to accept that. This, what you’re doing-“ She gestures towards his sorry figure, the soaked trousers, the muddy boots. “-is just some delusional way of relieving your own guilt. And I understand. I feel it too. That fucking guilt. Because on some days, by the end, I couldn’t even go into his room. I just left him there, for days on end, because I couldn’t bear seeing him so- so fucking broken. And I was furious with him. For doing that to himself, to us. And now he’s gone and we’ll just have to live with it!”

By the end, Lizzie’s voice has risen to a shout and Arthur has gone tense as a bowstring ready to snap, pulling long labored breaths in through his nose.

They stare each other down in the deafening silence afterwards. Like they did that morning.  Their eyes had met out there, through the milky fog. Arthur, with Tommy’s deathly still body in his arms, eyes wild and with mud up to his knees. And Lizzie, shivering in her thin dress. Arthur held Tommy’s head cradled against his chest, uselessly trying to stop the blood.  

Now, they stand on that same spot outside the house. The winter snow and rain has long since washed away the blood that seeped from between Arthur’s fingers. It’s poured down between the wilted blades of grass.

“Mummy!” Ruby calls from the tiny opening in the window. Waves and smiles toothily. And the tension breaks. Lizzie waves at her daughter, and Arthur’s shoulders slump.

“Come in for a while,” she says when she turns back to face Arthur whose gaze has faded into grey indifference again. “Drink some tea. Spend time with Charlie. He’d like that.”

Arthur doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even shake his head. Just turns and walks away, disappearing into the fog.  

Lizzie watches his fading figure for a moment and then she goes inside. To her children.

#breathe again #tommy x alfie #suicide tw #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons #peaky blinders fanfiction

[tsarinastorm]

AA:Ashes to Ashes-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 1

Rating: Explicit, eventual Smut

This is my attempt at a slow burn, sorry if it’s bad!

Summary:  You meet Jessa at AA and quickly become friends. She introduces you to her boyfriend, Adam, who it turns out you have a lot in common with. Always a girls’ girl you’ll have to choose between friendship and love.

       As usual, everyone went around the room introducing themselves and explaining their issues, you instantly regretted being there but it was for the best. While not a typical addict or alcoholic, you had been mixing alcohol and Xanax, even though you knew better. It began as only drinking during social events, then it became drinking every night, then it quickly developed into drinking every night and using Xanax to sleep. Your therapist suggested going to AA groups to talk to others about your problems, and to ‘socialize.’

           It was getting harder to resist the urge to drink and pop a few pills. But you did it to yourself. You had insisted on moving yourself to New York City, taking a job that was lower pay and cutting back your own hours to work on your writing. Now you did mostly contract-drafting work, and were just covering your rent, bills, and general expenses. You had to sell some of your clothes to consignment shops, and tutor some high school students for extra cash. But you thought it was worth the risk to follow your dreams. You were saving money by staying in a small studio apartment in East Village, and while it was tiny, it allowed to save some of your earnings. You were working on polishing your first manuscript to send to publishers.

           Everyone concludes introducing themselves, including you, then a woman comes in late. She is a blonde with a British accent, and after taking a look around, she may be the only normal one here. Apparently she thinks the same, because she comes over to talk to you after the meeting is over.

           “It’s good to not be the only pretty woman in here, and you look relatively normal.” She says and you nod your head in agreement. You say back, “Yeah some of them look like they’ve been rode hard and put away wet.”

           “I’m Jessa, wanna not stay here and get hit on by that guy,” She says as she gestures towards a big man standing over to side who’s eyeing you both suspiciously. That could get weird.

           That’s how you became friends with Jessa. The two of you would go grab food after each meeting, and she was pretty much an open book. You were surprised and entertained by her life stories, you told her that she should write a book, a memoir. You could tell that she put up a front to hide some inner vulnerability but who didn’t. She would talk about her former friends, then her boyfriend, named Adam, and what an ‘amazing’ connection they had. But you had never once seen him, or heard from him, he was enigma and it made you wonder about their relationship. She also said that he was her friend Hannah’s ex-boyfriend. The whole situation seemed strange to you, and you were suddenly grateful that you didn’t have that drama in your life.

********

In your third week of hanging out, when the two of you went shopping, or more specifically window shopping, she was talking about her last encounter with college. She told you that she did want to be a therapist but then she dropped out of school because it wasn’t for her. You tried to encourage her that there are other ways to help people with their lives that don’t involve school, and there were non-traditional routes.

“I just feel like I could really help other people so much but I’m not cut out for school,” Jessa says as she moves her hands dramatically while speaking. You listen before saying, “You could be a life coach or something, that stuff doesn’t usually require a degree. You just need to know how to sell yourself, find somebody to guide you in the business.”

           As you take another bite of your salad, you can see that Jessa is appraising your suggestion. She pulls out a cigarette, then her eyes light up. She gets excited and exclaims, “That is a great idea! I’m so good at making people buy into my bullshit and telling them what to do!”

           “Happy to help!” You say, then you start look up the process for how to be a life coach. This was a much-needed distraction from your daily life and your own stress. For some reason, you were much better about giving other people advice than following it on your own, maybe that’s why you became friends with Jessa in the first place.

***********

           Then, the following week was the time she took mushrooms, accidentally this time, and called you to pick her up from the party in the Garment District. You were trying to finish the draft of a contract when she called but you considered yourself a girls’ girl and would feel guilty if something happened to her.

Before you knew it, you were making your way there. You find the address from the drop-pin she sent you. As you walked in you noticed that the party’s attendees were the hippy type, dressed in tie dye, with marijuana growing around the place, yet still fashion hippies because they had on designer duds. The apartment was in an eclectic loft, and was filled with people. It didn’t bother you, it was just tightly packed, and was making you feel claustrophobic. You try not to stare at people, just look for Jessa. A couple guys made a few off-hand comments, but you ignored them, looking for your friend. Then your eyes settle on a blonde sitting across the room.

           Jessa was sitting in a corner, and you went up to her. You asked her, “Can you walk? This will be a lot easier if you can walk?”

           “I can’t feel my legs. Y/N, fuck I have never felt this good.” Is her answer. Her attitude made you instantly wish you would have ignored her phone call. She should have called her boyfriend or one of her friends that wasn’t busy. Frustrated, you pick her up, she stands, and then she takes a step forward. She is mumbling about something, you place her arms over your shoulder and head out, weaving through the crowd. Once outside, you hail a cab, then Jessa decides that she won’t go and stand stubbornly outside. You really don’t have time for this, so your anger boils over.

“Fine, call your damn boyfriend or whoever else you have, because I am done!” You shout, and throw your hands in the air in an act of disgust. You mentally decide to get in the cab and go back to your apartment to resume your work. As you go to step inside the cab, you hear Jessa speak.

           “Wait, Y/N, I don’t have anybody else, okay?” Jessa says, and you help get her in the cab and scoot her over so you can get in as well. She’s able to give the driver her address. As soon as you get her up the stairs which was a task in itself and to the door of her apartment, she vomits. You audibly release a sigh and step over it, and started pounding on the door. You remember that she lived with her boyfriend, and she said he should be home. You’ll wake up the whole damn building if that’s what it takes.

           “Okay, okay! I hear you, loud fucker!” You heard a man yell before coming to answer the door. Your jaw drops when a man who’s built like a brick house, opens the door standing in his black briefs. He has amber eyes, black, long, wavy hair, amazing pecs, and your eyes can’t help but notice the bulge in the briefs. That must be the Adam, you were certainly not expecting him to look like that, and you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. You shield your eyes and push Jessa towards him.

           “What the hell happened to her?” He demands to know from you. You didn’t like the tone, so you inform him, “Jessa went to a party, took mushrooms, and then called me to come get her. I have work to do, so I assume you can take care of her.”

           He nodded in agreement, Jessa stumbled into the apartment, and you left. Now you understand why Jessa put up with him treating her like a consolation prize, and why she was willing to betray her friendship with Hannah for him. You didn’t think that you would personally do that, but you could understand it now. You also knew that you would be thinking of your friend’s boyfriend more than you wanted to.

*************************

When you were heading out of the AA meeting today with Jessa, she said that needed to grab something from her apartment first. So you follow her to her apartment, and once inside, you turn around to see Adam sitting on a yellow couch, this time he was fully clothed. Jessa heads further inside to find whatever it is that she was looking for. Adam turns to look at you, and you can feel his gaze burning through you, you decide to ignore it and admire the architecture and space in this apartment.  Besides, considering your recent interaction with him, you weren’t sure you could look at him without blushing or checking out his bulge again.

You were happy that you had chosen to wear black skinny jeans, Chelsea boots and a sleeveless white top instead of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. Adam gets up to stand beside you, and formally introduces himself, saying, “I’m Adam, thanks for taking care of Jessa that night. Sorry I was kind of an asshole.”

“I’m Y/N. It’s no problem.” You say back as your mind goes blank when his eyes meet yours. He continues holding your eyes for some time before asking, “Are you the friend from AA?”

“I am.” You answer, feeling a bit dazed. It must be equally awkward for him to know a lot about someone without actually knowing them. Or maybe he was socially awkward like you. You felt like you knew him already from hearing Jessa’s stories. He then coolly remarks, “You don’t look like an alcoholic or addict to me.”

           “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You fire back. A person can’t just assume who’s an addict, or who’s not.Your brow furrows and your casual smile turns into a scowl. You take back any nice things about him you had thought before. What an asshole, he can’t even know you for five minutes before insulting you.

           “Adam, don’t be an asshole,” Jessa chimes in as she strolls back into the room and glares at him. He finds a way to recover and explain himself. He states, “I meant it as a compliment. You look very put together and classy.”

           Jessa scoffs at him and eyes him hesitantly, while you chuckle. You suppose that is a twisted compliment, and you’ve been called worse. You then feel the need to explain yourself to him and add, “Yeah well drinking and the Xanax quickly turned from happening occasionally at social events to all the time to numb myself. I got help before I hit rock bottom.”

           “Good. Good for you. I started drinking as a teenager and started AA when I was seventeen. Better to catch that shit early.” He says and you listen to him contently, but before the two of you get to talk more, Jessa is rushing out the door, declaring that she’s found whatever she was here for. You shoot him a smile and wave goodbye before following Jessa out.  Adam is certainly a curious man and you want to know more about him, even though it’s against your better judgment.

“Adaptations are almost never as good as the original, end of story.” You inform Ray of your opinion. You had just met Ray earlier tonight, and he seemed to be argumentative. You never backed down from a debate, so it made things interesting. You ignored the fact that Jessa wanted to set you up with Ray, he just wasn’t your type. You’re sitting on the yellow couch with Jessa and Ray. Jessa is listening to your argument while she eats yogurt, not bothered at all. Ray thinks for a moment before he makes his next move in this game of argument chess.

           “There can be thoughtful adaptations.” Ray declares, taking a drink of his beer. You’re not convinced, so you counter with, “Yes but they generally lose the heart and soul of the original format.”

“Okay well I can see that I’m not going to win this.” Ray finally concedes. Good. Better for him to figure that out now. You take a drink of your water, and snack on some chips. You’ve been set up with worse guys, and as long as Ray takes the hint, maybe the two of you can be friends.

“I agree with Y/N.” Jessa confirms, and Ray just shakes his head. You smile smugly, triumphant that you’ve won the argument. Then, Adam walks through the door, looks surprised to see all of you there, continues heading into the kitchen. He gets a drink from the fridge before joining the group of you on the couch, he points at you and adds, “I agree with her, adaptations are shit!”

           You smile at him, and he smiles back. You’re happy he agrees, because if not you would have to seriously question his taste, and put him the group with Ray. From what Jessa’s told you about him, he’s obviously cultured and has good taste, even though he doesn’t outwardly show it and in spite of outward eccentricity. During the movie, Ray heads out to take a phone call while Jessa goes to the restroom, leaving you alone with Adam.  And you actually has butterflies in stomach just from being alone with him, you feel like you’re fourteen again. Inwardly scolding yourself for feeling this way, you keep your eyes fixed on the television screen. You don’t know what to say, so you wait for him to make a move. Or who knows, the two of you might sit in weird silence until someone walks back into the room. Luckily, you don’t have to wait long to see how it’s going to go.

           “What do you do?” He asks trying to get the conversation started and end the tension in the room. He glances at you, and takes some chips from the bowl.

           “I’m an attorney, but I don’t do typical court work. I do the drafting and back work. That gives me flexibility to work on my writing on the side.” You says as you take another drink from your glass, and you notice that you’re each moving towards each other subconsciously. Or consciously, who knows. Adam chuckles, then jokes by saying, “Well I don’t have good luck with writers.”

           “Well I don’t have good luck with tall strangers. What do you do? You’re an actor, right?” You say back, not fazed at all by his bad joke, and you see relief wash over him. He cocks a half-smile, you admire his dimples that are now showing. And you mentally control yourself, because you cannot get a crush on your friend’s boyfriend.

“I am an actor.” He says in a drawn out voice, and you can’t tell if he did that intentionally or if he’s just nervous.  He definitely doesn’t strike you as a shy, or introverted guy.

“That’s why you have strong opinions on content forms then.” You say and the two of you continue talking about books, poems, movies and music you like. You find out that you and Adam have similar, but not identical tastes. As Ray and Jessa trickle back into the conversation while Adam is asking you about your trivia talents. Adam stuns you and everyone else in the room by saying, “Fuck, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re not too bad yourself. Brawn and brain,” You tease back as Adam tries to hide his blush, which you find adorable. You also know that you’re probably blushing too so you move your face to hide it. Then you remember that Jessa is right there and you worry you might have crossed the line. Self-consciously and slowly you scoot back over across to the other side of the couch, leaving plenty of room for Jessa, and you pat the space beside you. Jessa seems unaffected, and it seems you’re being self-conscious for nothing, she sits down. She puts her arm around your shoulder, saying, “Adam’s right. You are insanely smart, and kind. And you have fantastic skin.”

You blush and you can see Adam watching you out of the corner of your eye. Jessa moves in closer to you and starts telling you about the current state of her future life-coaching business. You listen to her as intently as you can but your thoughts wonder to Adam, then you guilt yourself because you know you shouldn’t think of him at all.

************************************************************************

Adam was walking out of Ray’s coffee shop with his typical, normal coffee. None of that fancy new age coffee that so many people drink nowadays. He’s been in a bit of downward spike lately, he knows he needs to audition for more parts and submit some of his writing to directors. He’s working on what he thinks is a lame indie film, but the pay is decent and the director is well-respected so he supposes he should suffer through the script. Though he’s considered walking out several times.

When he’s getting ready to head to the door, he sees Y/N walk in. She waves at him, and he finds himself smiling and waving back at her. She’s wearing a red sheath dress and heels, carrying a huge tote bag. How does she manage to look hot while still looking like a boss? Adam remembers that she’s an attorney so she’s probably way out of his league, and she’s Jessa’s friend. Once she gets her order, she sits a table that’s in the corner near the street, and motions for him to join her since he’s still standing by the door probably looking like an idiot.

           He knows he should probably just politely decline her offer, but instead he goes to sit down across from her. He felt a connection with her the other day when they talked about books, and things they were passionate about. Adam thinks he might as well accept he’s hooked on this girl, at least to some degree. After he sits, he asks, “Are you going to work? I don’t want to distract you.”

           “I’m mostly editing and listening in on video calls today. What about you? I mean I know actors and artists don’t have a normal schedule but are you working today?” She says as she takes a drink of her coffee and takes her pastry out of the bag.

           “I’ve been working on this indie film and it’s very frustrating.” Adam admits before he remembers that he doesn’t really know Y/N that well, and that she probably doesn’t care about his life.

           “Is it good for your reputation or at least good pay?” Y/N asks and sounds genuinely interested. Adam thinks back to the intensive conversation that he had with her a few nights ago, and knows that she gets it. She thinks about art, literature, and expression. So he opens up.

           “It’s good for both. It’s just everything else about it is a shitshow. And fucking mediocre,” Adam says. Y/N then continues making her point by saying, “Well stick it out for the credit then you can be pickier about your projects.”

           “That’s good advice. Thanks.” He tells her and she pulls out her laptop to get to work, when he gathers himself to leave, she stops him. “Company wouldn’t bother me…If you don���t have somewhere else to be.”

           Adam sits back down, content to hang around her.  He sees that she has a copy of Forster’s short stories and Emile Zola’s Therese Raquin in her bag. He can’t hold back from commenting, after all he does have a comp lit degree. He motions toward them, saying, “Interesting choices. Let me know what you think of them.”

“I like Forster’s description of sexuality and sensuality. This is my first brush with Zola though, so I’ll save my commentary when I’m better read.” She smiles and it looks like her whole face lights up. Adam can’t look away from her.

He barely knows her and yet he feels like he’s known her all of his life. He’s able to talk to her about things that he could never bring up around Jessa, and forgot what it was like to have a real connection to someone. He and Y/N sit there for hours, talking art, writing, and inspirations. He opens up about his past relationships, Y/N already knew that he dated Hannah, who was Jessa’s friend. Adam chose to leave out the part where he went back to Hannah to offer to raise her child with her. He knew how embarrassing it sounded now, and maybe Jessa had already told her that.

           She opened up to him about her writing: short stories and children’s books, though she wanted to do more. She told him about how hard it was when she first moved to the city, and about the ex who got her to mix alcohol and Xanax. She talks about her dysfunctional family, and the friends she’s made in the city. When it’s time to go, Adam finds himself following her outside the shop, not wanting to separate from her.

           Outside the door, he stops her to ask, “Can we do that again?”

           “Sure. That is what friends do.” She says before she heads on her way. Adam’s never really had friends before but he still feels like this was more than friendship.

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler fic #adam sackler x you #adam driver #hbo girls #jessa johansson

[cavariously]

[Trying my hand at a fan fiction.

I love to write but I have never done anything like this before, so all feedback would be extremely appreciated (Grammer, Plot, Characters etc.).

I love Tokyo Ghoul so I really hope I don't fuck this up 😅. A big thank you to anyone who reads this ❤️]

Caution: Agressive Swearing, Offensive Language, Graphic Violence.

Notes: Takes place post end of TG:re, Reapers = Marshall version of Doves.

1. Crow - 24

City lights and the rushing motions of the landscape turn the 24th ward into a blinding and blaring circus. Humans. They crawl through this city with the assurance that they will be here tomorrow. They will be here a year from now. They will be here forever. They are the only lifeform with this assurance. All other creatures in this world live with the knowledge that their making it to the next moment is a fifty fifty

It is certainly a miracle that they last, noticing absolutely nothing at all. They don't see the effects that the fumes of their veichles have on the planet that they grip so tightly to. They can't begin to recognise that they are being continually watched and targeted by devices that could wipe them from the face of said Earth in less than zero. They don't even notice the apex predictor observing them from less than a mile above.

Humans simply move from one spot to another, only stopping to cause irrevocable disaster and reduce their surroundings to less than ash, and then move on to the next target. Someone said that humans are Parasites, and although it may be naive to believe this was wholly correct, it would be complete ignorance to dismiss it entirely. Ghouls do not indulge in such ignorance. Parasite is an apt description for a human, from the perspective of a ghoul, that and food.

The figure stands tall, wind rushing rapidly through their tied up hair. They can smell the putrescence of man-kind as they go about their sweaty and arrogant business. They would laugh if it wasn't so tragic. What do humans amount to? They are greedy and bloody bags of meat that fight and hate more than any other being, yet they are allowed to multiply and just be. It could be argued that ghouls are the same as humans in this aspect, but most abide by the one meal a month agreement, even though this arrangement can be hell for some. Unlike humans, who see violence as their God given right, when ghouls fight, it is rarely for anything other than survival. Perhaps this view doesn't take all ghouls into account, but all humans gorge themselves on everything, and fight for any fucking reason they want.

Twenty years ago, a disaster was meant to end this disparity. For the first time ever, ghouls and humans fought together to save the world they shared from the monster that had been designated 'DRAGON'. The defeating of this enemy was meant to end in equality, where ghouls and humans shared the world equally. Scientific leaps had been made. Synthetic meats that ghouls could eat, so they wouldn't have to harm humans. The corpse of Dragon even lead to dramatic advancements in the medical field. Humans were now benefiting from ghoul DNA, as it allowed them to combat most illnesses and increase their lifespan somewhat. After all that ghouls had done for them, weren't humans grateful? No. Ten years, then ghouls were back to being vile creatures to be hunted, and were forced back to living in the sewers. The deaths of so many perfectly good and innocent ghouls, just so that humanity could screw them all over again. What a funny tragedy.

Another figure appeared from the shadows, stepping in line with their comrade. Neither looking at the other, they both silently watched the ferris-wheel turn round and round. A world that they saw as rightfully theirs. They were hungry for it and they would have it. No matter the cost. In fact, the more human casualties... the better.

"Are you ready to go?" the newcomer asked, never taking their attention away from everything below.

"Yeah. Any longer and I might have to eat you."

"Like you could" came the cold, arrogant response.

"Just because you got five inches on me now, doesn't mean I can't still beat your ass Da..."

"Don't fucking call me that. While we're out here you call me Kuma and I call you... Blindfold, or Eyeless. Something like that." Even though his response had been quick and sharp, neither his tone nor his concentration had wavered.

"Eyeless" they conceded.

"Fine, Eyeless it is. Just don't go shouting our real names out in public. You're enough of a liability as it is without giving our fucking identities away."

Eyeless finally turned to look at their brother. They couldn't help feeling a pang of nostalgia. He had been so small once, constantly hanging onto their shoulders and making paper birds that he place all over their home. Those memories hurt, especially when they remembered what came after. He used to smile so much and now he's a moody little shit. They'd never been like that at fourteen, they thought smugly.

"Fine. Let's go KUMA before I rip your snarky head off." With that final retort, Eyeless turned and stepped off of the roof.

Kuma watched them drop six stories, landing with grace and poise. Why were they always so aggravating? Maybe he was jealous of their natural ability, or perhaps they were just a pain in the ass to be related to. With a sigh and a wandering look to the night sky, he followed suit.

* * *

The Marshalls finished up disposing of the ghoul. Bikakus are a pain in the ass Haruto thought, but it's better than a Ukaku. Haruto loved the fact that he was an intimidating figure. The ghoul had basically shat itself as soon as it had seen his large muscular frame, and cruel bearded face. The black trench coat they wore, that often announced the end for ghouls, probably didn't hurt either. He nudged the face of the corpse with his foot. He reckoned it wouldn't even be worth removing his Kakahou to get a new quinque. Taking into account the short amount of time it had taken him and Kenji to bypass his defences and cut him through the middle, he was a B rated ghoul maximum.

"Right, time we get back" Haruto sighed.

"Mhm" Kenji agreed. He never said much.

"Did you bring the body bag? You never know, you might be able to upgrade that piece of shit you call a quinque." Haruto laughed loudly. He loved taking the piss out of Kenji, especially when he knew his only retort woukd be 'mhm'.

As expected, Kenji responded with a grumbling "Mhm", and moved towards the body.

Haruto, turned to walk away, lighting a cigarette and beginning to inhale deeply. That Kenji was going to marry his sister. What's he gonna say when the priest asks him if he takes her to be his lawfully wedded wife? Mhm. Haruto chuckled to himself. All in all Kenji was a good guy, and one hell of a Marshall. He could use that crappy Ukaku quinque pretty damn well, even if it did come from a C rated ghoul. Kenji also took Haruto's kids to the beach when he and Mrs Haruto wanted a quiet weekend. He might be an ugly fucker with next to no hair, and a face that made you want to split him down the middle, but he was clean and sometimes smelt nice. Yeah, Kenji could marry his sister if he wanted. She could do a hell of a lot worse.

A loud splatter sounded out behind Haruto. He spun on his heels, instincts flaring immediately into action. Where the fuck was Kenji? Where his partner had been attempting to fit the ghoul into the black bag, there was now the cut in half corpse of his future brother in law, fallen to the sides with a blindfolded figure standing in the middle. His entire being twitched in anticipation of this thing making a move to kill him, but all it did was leasurly bend down and scoop something up from the gore beneath. As the creature straightened up, he saw that it was simply sucking on one of Kenji's bloody fingers. To others, this might signify a psychotic animal, but to a seasoned Marshall, this was a confident and calculating killer plain and simple. A powerful one at that. Their clothes were indistinctive; clad in thin black leather and fabric, however, their mask was a completely different story. Almost the entirety of its face was covered. Its mouth had a tight black fabric wrapped over it, with a skeletal smile that would open, revealing the snaking pink tongue underneath. The huge back leather collar surrounding it could be zipped up to hide all but the eyes from the world. Not that the eyes could be seen either. A bone white blindfold shut them off from view. Foreign symbols were drawn in deep black on either side, with the a closed eye taking centre stage. Although it was just a drawing, that closed eye was unearving, as if the lack of sight heightened its ability to see, instead of impeding it.

Now this was a ghoul. Just by its sheer presence Haruto could tell this one was rated A, or more likely >S. Haruto couldn't deny to himself that he was intimidated, but he was a senior Marshall, and always backed himself in a one on one. He looked down at his fallen partner and gulped. First things first, get into this guys head. Haruto scanned the ghoul, looking for weaknesses that he could exploit verbally. If he was lucky, the reaction could lead to him obtaining an edge. He noticed that this ghoul was slight in stature, maybe five foot five all told.

"You wanna end up like this other piece of shit, you fucking dwarf."

This garnered absolutely nothing.

Haruto couldn't take it much longer. This creature continued to lapp at the guts of his dead partner, that were splattered over its fingers. It obviously didn't give a shit what it looked like to others. It reminded him of a cat, publically cleaning its fur and genitals with no concern for the world. It was fucking reveling in its feast, and it made Haruto's blood boil.

"You killed an innocent man. He was gonna have a family and you ripped him apart. You monsters have no fucking souls and you all belong in hell. That's where I'm gonna send you. I'm a fucking senior Marshall you stupid shit. You have no clue how badly you've fucked up."

Again, the ghoul made no sign of changing emotion, continuing to dip its fingers in Kenji and take its time eating. Haruto knew he needed something else to get into its head so he scanned again. 'Shit' he thought, as the ghost of a smile passed over his lips. The majority of its body was covered in black that mostly obscured its shape, however, his keen eyes saw that although its grey hair was tied up, it was probably quite long when undone. At its chest area, although it was probably bound, there was the hint of a slightly tented structure. The hardest one to spot was the hips. Despite them being covered by black leather shorts, those hips were a tad too wide to be a man's.

"Alright you sick fuck. I'M A COMMIN FOR YA!"

With one last drive to uncover more courage, Haruto raised his Kokaku quinque and lept towards the ghoul.

"I'M GONNA FUCK YOU UP FOR KENJI... YOU BITCH!"

As Haruto closed the distance with extreme speed, to less than two meters, the shadow of another figure dropped from the sky, landing directly next to the first. Haruto skidded to a halt, taken aback by the new masked creature. This one was certainly taller, and its face was covered by a red, horned mask. It was only as his attention slipped completely that he realised his final mistake. For the first time, the blindfolded ghoul smiled widely, the skeletal mouth parting to reveal massive bloody teeth.

The next thing Haruto knew was that he was laying down on the ground, face to the sky. His neck was warm and dripping wet. He raised his hands to his throat as the oxygen escaped his body, feeling the deep gash that was releasing his blood. The ghouls started conversing.

"Which one you want?" the first asked the newcomer.

"I don't care. You killed 'em both so you choose" the other responded dispondantly.

"Well, you're the growing boy so you take the ghoul and the first Reaper."

"Damn, well fuck me if you ain't the best big sister" uttered the male ghoul sarcastically, as he casually walked over to Kenji and the dead ghoul. "Why you taking you're mask off you sicko? The guys not even dead yet."

"I like it when they watch me" the female ghoul giggled.

Haruto saw the shadow of something passing over his head. "Ken...Ke..ji" Haruto gasped.

Suddenly, from below him came a the same giggle. "Awww dude, I think these guys were close."

"Eyeless, eat the fucker and let's go" came the voice of the male.

"Hey buddy boy, look at me will you" said the female from his feet.

Haruto craned his neck, scared of what he might see, but thinking 'fuck it' to himself. What's did he have to be afraid of, he's already dead. When he finally focused on the face he was confused. She was chewing on a leg. His leg. When the fuck did she get her dirty hands on that? When she'd finished on his leg, licking the tips of her fingers with delight, she bent down and hovered over him. Eyeless? That's what the other one had called her, but that wasn't true at all. Now that her blindfold was off he could see the entirety of her murderous giddy face.

"You're very funny" she said. "Innocent man. Gonna have a family. Its really fucking funny."

The last thing Haruto would ever see would be a testimony to her names innacuracy. Staring at him excitedly was one grey eye, so remarkably human looking it was weird. The other eye was a pool of darkness... with a violent, blood red pupil that seemed to be trying to force its way out of its black prison. She snapped up the rest of him.

"Sicko..."

End

#tokyo ghoul #manga edit #ken keneki #touka kirishima

[k-corner]

Ashes of Love: The Problem with the ‘Protagonists’ Actions and Characterization, and an In-Depth Look at their Concerning ‘Romance’ Part 2

This is a continuation from Part One. Feel free to head on over there to take a look.

Part Two: Issues with Characterization –

Some points mentioned here have already been lightly touched on in part one as they deal with the plot, but they’re going to be looked at more in a characterization sort of way and in a ‘how that comes across to the audience’.

Now, since Ashes of Love is a romance story, it’s natural to assume that there’s going to be some sort of meet-cute, some sort of flirting or courting stage and then some sort of getting together stage that might be accompanied by something a little more concrete physically like kissing or sex or what have you depending on the rating of the show and the image it’s trying to get across.

Now in Ashes of Love, the main two love interests are Xu Feng and Jin Mi, whose characterizations should have some sort of weight to them that allows for a long-standing love story to spring up from them. This can be seen in the ideas of ‘introvert meets extrovert’ or ‘opposites attract’ or ‘birds of a feather flock together’ or some other variation of what personality and characteristics that these characters have that draws them in and is supposed to draw in the audience as well.

Here is where I would say the weakest part of the entire story of Ashes of Love stands. Not in the sometimes dragging storylines that make up the 60+ episode season, but in the base understandings of the two main characters that we as the audience are supposed to root for.

Xu Feng – AKA The Sexual Predator:

One of my biggest pet peeves in a ‘romance’ drama is anytime the two main love interests have some sort of accident – trip and fall, stumble into each other, get pushed into the same small space, etc. – and ‘OMG! Somehow despite height differences and just a basic understanding of how gravity and momentum works’ they’ll fall into a sweet, gentle kiss or somehow just press their lips together and I guess we’re supposed to swoon at the audience at something that really doesn’t mean anything. The fact that no one smashed each other’s noses or foreheads or something is the more impressive moment being seen in that scenario.

I digress though, but unfortunately Ashes of Love has moments like this. Unfortunately it also has moments that are so much worse. Xu Feng takes the kissing and courting parts of the storyline and runs with them from eyeroll territory and into concerned side-eye country. There are several moments, especially early in the show, when Xu Feng chooses to press his luck with Jin Mi and come onto her in a sexual/kissing/pawing at her and starting to take off her clothes while she lays there and looks up at him almost uncomprehendingly sort of way. He’s putting it all out there and out on the line, but somehow he’s not able to catch onto the fact that Jin Mi isn’t picking it up or worse, he doesn’t care and continues to press because it’s what he wants/desires.

Xu Feng’s character is a mess of ‘but she didn’t say no’ and ‘I don’t care that she’s chosen someone else I know she loves me so I have to keep pushing’ and my absolute favorite ‘Uncle, be a bro and tie us together using your mortal love fate strings for no reason other than I want to go get it on with my brother’s fiancé while I pretend I’m doing it to protect her and not take advantage of her in a vulnerable situation but it’s okay because I swear we truly love each other even though she’s never said it because she can’t actually say it right now but it’s going to be just fine just you wait’.

This is also the character who – and I would call this scene a full on assault scene regardless of him stopping himself before he goes too far and I’ll explain why – that got drunk and practically threw Jin Mi onto the bed before climbing over her and pulling at her clothes while she just laid there and blinked up at him with a kind of look that seemed innocent, uncomprehending and trusting. She had no clue what was happening in that moment as he pushes his luck. I’ll give – he stops himself though, as he should but not for the reasons he should. Why does he stop? Because at this point he thinks that there’s a possibility that she’s his sister. If he hadn’t thought that, would he have pushed harder? Would he have gone further? Who knows.

On top of creepy entitled behaviors that he shows to Jin Mi, he also takes pleasure in being unnecessarily cruel to her. The little back and forth in the Heaven Realm when he turned her into all of the various items to ‘teach her a lesson’ was not cute to me. It was borderline sadistic and just downright fucked up.

Leaving Jin Mi behind, Xu Feng still falls short when it comes to his characterization. He’s portrayed as a kind of Gary Stu. He’s the best at everything. The most powerful. He’s unchallenged by any other character – look at how the entire demon army flees before him! Look at how undefeatable he is in battle! Look at how easily he talks back to his mother with no repercussions! Look at how easily he ignores any possible feelings his brother might have and just keeps on pushing! Look at how every other side character prefers him! What a stud! (note sarcasm). Honestly Xu Feng is a character with no obstacles. The only one he has is that he is in love with his brother’s fiancé and his brother won’t give her up to him because he loves her too. How dare he! He’s evil incarnate! (note sarcasm again)

Plus, we have the narrative trying to portray Xu Feng as a supposedly moral and upright character in contrast to Run Yu who is a schemer. There’s just one problem. It’s easy to be lighthearted and benevolent and chill when you’ve never faced a day of hardship in your life, when you’ve clearly never been told no before and when the roulette wheel of fate always spins in your favor. What hardships has Xu Feng truly had to overcome? Everyone loves him and he is the Greatest at Everything™. We see his narrow world view though and how only what happens to him matters when he deals with the information about the Heavenly Empress’s tyrannical torture and killing fests. He doesn’t care that Run Yu has just lost his mother and has been tortured for the survivors he wants to talk about him and get Jin Mi. He doesn’t care that his mother murdered thousands of people because the Heavenly Emperor couldn’t keep it in his pants, how dare Run Yu disrespect her. Who cares if Xu Feng is the one who started them all down this path of misery by refusing to stop chasing after a woman who told him to stop and just kept pushing until he eventually won, he’s going to feel like he’s righteous enough to tell his brother to be alone for eternity as a price to be paid for what’s happened while Xu Feng goes to find a way to flounce off with Jin Mi and live happily ever after. Who cares if Xu Feng stripped Sui He of her powers and her sanity and threw her out to be tortured and eaten by demons without a trial or anything like that, everyone cheered him and he got the girl! Clearly he was right!

Jin Mi – AKA Born Sexy Yesterday:

Jin Mi’s whole characters storyline and plot depends and hangs onto the fact that Jin Mi is ‘naïve and sheltered’ and that she doesn’t have the ability to either consent or not consent to a male leads love. It’s because she doesn’t know what that is and can’t recognize these weird things he does! Like kiss her? Like start pulling off her clothes? Why would she say no? It’s all innocent fun!

Oh but wait, now she’s going to fall in love with this person because…because he’s constantly there and pawing at her regardless of what she says or does or how she reacts! Yay! True Love FTW! But it’s all okay because it might be that she was in love with him the whole time but it’s a good thing that he recognized it because she can’t figure out her own feelings and wrapping her mind around complicated things like love is just too hard so all of his attentions are okay somehow even though they were still done without consent but that’s okay because deep down she truly loved him. [flips a table in the distance].

Unfortunately Jin Mi’s whole story is all about her lack of agency or characters taking it away. Her mother gives her the pill. Her father sells her away before he even knows that she’s been born in an engagement to the Heaven Realm. Xu Feng continuously ignores what she says and pushes himself into her sphere and hounds her over and over again. Run Yu restores the pill and later holds her captive in the Heaven Realm. The Moon Immortal and Yan You literally turn her into a puppet to put her in wedding clothes and shove her at Xu Feng without her permission. How is any of this okay? Jin Mi needs to get the fuck out.

Plus, the story never seems to understand the limits of the pill. She can feel love, just not romantic love because she feels sibling/friendship love for her cactus friend and mourns her death. She acknowledges that she likes people like Run Yu and understands the concept of marriage and mothers and fathers despite somehow not understanding that Xu Feng is a boy and has different equipment. At certain points her level of ditzy and uncomprehending everything and anything was baffling for a woman who is thousands of years old. Sure, she lived sheltered in the Flower Realm so that’s why she got confused at a dick and wanted to cut it off…. but wait…there are men in the Flower Realm which means she would have come to understand the differences. A child catches onto them pretty quickly and that’s within two to five years. Why can Jin Mi not figure that out after four or five thousand?

This all adds up to the most irritating moment of characterization for Jin Mi. Wherein she decides based off of information that she has – before it’s verified or investigated into – to kill Xu Feng with her own hands. This is an action that Jin Mi chooses to take. Run Yu does not push her into this. Run Yu does not tell her to do this. He does not force her to kill Xu Feng. Later though, because of her guilt she throws the responsibility for her actions onto him and blames him and tears him down because of her own guilt. This is not okay for the supposedly main female lead. It’s not okay for anyone to demonize someone else and leave them holding the bag for something they had no control over. Learn to take responsibility for your own actions. It sucks, but you did it. He didn’t. Blaming him and saying that he doesn’t feel/understand love crossed a line after everything.

 The extra characterizations of the other main characters I’m not going to go into but I will sum up as this:

Supposedly Smart Characters Doing Stupid/Crazy/Out of Character/WTF Things Because of ‘Plot’:

Sui He – Bechdel Tests Worst Nightmare AKA Female Character Only Exists To Further Male Story And Fawn Over Him.

Run Yu – But By God He’s Pretty When He Suffers AKA Actually a Disney Prince Cast Into Role Of Sea Witch For Reasons Unknown.

Tu Yao – Obvious Over The Top Bad Guy Is Obvious And Will Never Let You Forget It

Tai Wei – Satan’s Butthole.

#Ashes Of Love #Heavy Sweetness Ash-like Frost #ashes of love xu feng #ashes of love jin mi #xu feng #jin mi #my problems with the protagonists

[musashi]

1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 14 and 15 for Nettle AND Cactus In The Valley >:3c

tysm dean!!!!

Nettle:

What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Nettle’s written in dreamy present tense! it’s meant to jump around in Harley’s personal timeline and idk that just felt right. when i write more introspective things they just tend to work better in present tense imo, and my style lends itself well to vignettes. truly i just do whatever i’m feeling in the moment but i think my brain has a way of breaking it down like this before giving me that answer.

What scene did you first put down?

I always write chronologically! if i only write my fave scenes first then the rest of the fic feels like a slog to me and i quickly lose motivation. ALL my fics are written in the order they’re presented!

What’s your favorite line of narration?

it’s never one line because my prose is often fragmented, but here:

He fades in and out of consciousness, and in a brief period of waking, catches it—black silhouettes surrounding him, cutting jagged shapes against the starlit sky above. The hypothermic conditions must have gotten to him, because he swears that stars have unhinged themselves from the sky and traveled downward to hang around him, bright amber and glistening brilliantly. Crybaby blinks again. They’re not stars. They’re eyes.

He wills himself to focus on the shapes, unsure what it is he’s seeing. They’re on every side of him, arm to arm like demonic paper dolls, thick needles piercing galaxies from the heavens. The scene registers, and he’s immediately awake, paralyzed with fear.

The sandstorm has stopped. The only sound across the sandy plain is the errant howls of mightyena on mountaintops far away. Five cacturne stand around him, their eyes ravenous and devoid of mercy.

i wanted to shove this dex entry into a harley fic SO bad and when i finally got to i put everything into it sdfgdf

What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“And who’s to say me threatening the life of a child over baked goods won’t earn me friends?” Harley smiles sweetly. “Can you think of a more wondrous origin story?”

“Yeah,” she tells him. “I can think of a couple hundred.”

he Knew

What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

i didn’t let the main character have a name until p much the very last few scenes of the story! harley is arguably canonically queer and queers pick our names more often than not, but deadnames don’t really matter and so i needed something to call him. before he grows his confidence and self-actualizes, all he can see within himself is his capacity to be sensitive, so he’s defined by that until he picks his name. I’ve never done that before! in my trans ash fic i DID allow the audience his deadname because i wanted to play around with movie 4 time travel shenanigans xD but that fic, despite being written by a trans person, contains a lot of Cis Person Writing Trans Character tropes, so with harley i kinda wanted to do better.

Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

It Could Be That Deep!

i generally don’t go into most of my fics with a Message(tm) but one thing i think is present in Nettle is that your identity is self-defined. no one can tell you who you are and if they do you aren’t bound to stay that forever. 

the thing i want people to understand about narcissists is that we become narcissists because of abuse, because the world tells us we’re nothing and our brains change to defy that notion. and we’re so often told we’re abusive or selfish or horrible simply because we were more or less beaten into a corner and did what we could to survive. i wrote harley as a young narcissist who cried and cried and cried and shyed away from the world and couldn’t see himself as anything but still found bravery and attempted to chase his dreams. i wrote him as someone who flourished because one person saw his potential and cheered him on, and i wrote him as someone who bloomed into a narcissist and was loved and adored still not in spite of but because of it. a lot of my writing is just... i want this queer, neurodivergent character to be loved, and i want the queer neurodivergent folks reading it to know they’re capable of being loved too.

harley comes from dust and depression and weakness and shapes himself into exactly what he wants to be. thats what nettle’s all about.

What did you learn from writing this fic?

harley is the funnest motherfucker to write in the entire world.

CITV:

My first two answers are the same for this one, haha. These fics are basically sisters :P

What’s your favorite line of narration?

Harley can’t count the days since Purika that he’s dreamt of beating her into submission. Can’t fathom the hours that he’s lied awake in bed prying apart her first round appeal, her battle style, how she was able to dance around his dirty tricks and steal the ribbon out of his hands even with angry tears in her eyes and red staining her cheeks. Back then, he’d reveled in the way her pretty little face contorted, flustered and searing holes into him—she was so fun to play with. Now, it only reminded him of her resilience, and all he longed to do was break her.

i love writing him when he’s Evil. i love villains. it’s really exhausting to write harley when he’s not being a good person, but in like... a satisfying way, tbh.

What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“The needles don’t fool me, Harley,” she near-whispers. “I know you’re a good person underneath them, okay? I hope… someday, I can be as strong as you.”

He finds his voice. “You should hope you never have to.”

fuck me up

What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

it pretty much entirely incorporates canon events! almost every scene is just a scene from canon, and so all the dialogue save for a few is 4kids/tpci’s writing instead of mine :P i loooove doing canon retellings and going into what the characters are thinking during those scenes.

Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

this fic has been recontextualized a lot for me since writing it because the person i have historically used as my greatest inspiration for harley besides myself (both his good and his bad) is no longer an enemy and is, in fact, my fucking future roommate now. i did not go into this fic with a message to be learned, i was just kinda like ‘man may and harley got a lot of cool shit happening in their rivalry. let’s look at how that could work out.’ 

now when i read it i’m just like... there is nothing in this world that can’t be mended if both people truly want to mend it with their whole hearts. i wasn’t writing this fic to be prophetic but i never am and i always do. if you miss someone maybe they miss you too. time changes us all so much, even the worst falling outs can blossom into something beautiful and strange and twice as strong. 

to quote my aforementioned muse, “[I think] forgiveness could happen.”

What did you learn from writing this fic?

its fun to write people who suck and are selfish and cruel even when they don’t have a tragic motive. like its fun to just write assholes sometimes :P

#nogeese #wendy answers

[unloveable-unreachable]

You’re the One My Heart Wants- Chapter 3

Word Count: 3,095

Warnings: Swearing

Author: Me

Alex’s POV (The Night Before)

“I’ve never really talked to her outside the pitch. She normally keeps to herself, or she’s always attached to Ali or Ash’s hip every time I see her,” I tell Kelley as I drive us to Y/N’s house. “I know she can be hard to get to know, believe me. She’s a very closed off person to a lot of people, it took me forever to get her to open up to me. When she did she became a different person. She’s a very sweet, caring person who puts others needs above her own and honestly I admire her for that because you don’t meet many people like that anymore. She’s probably funnier than me if I’m being honest, but don’t ever tell her I said that to you,” Kelley says as I look at her in disbelief. Kelley rolls her eyes before saying “Come on, Al. You should just give her a chance. She’s a great person once you get to know her, I promise.” She then changes the song for the tenth time since we got in the car.

I really didn’t know what to think of Y/N. I know she’s still kind of young considering she’s already played with the National Team in two different tournaments and a ton of friendly matches. I know she’s been on the National Team with us since 2015, she scored in two of the matched during the last World Cup, but she just keeps to herself. She’s always working out more than everyone else, putting in as much extra time as she can. She normally works out alone, unless Ali and Ash are around. They act like she’s their kid and that doesn’t seem to bother her too much. She’s a fantastic player like it’s really interesting watching her play. Especially when she gets an opening, that’s when her trickster footwork comes into play, and you don’t want to be on the other team whenever that happens. We play really well together whenever we’re on the pitch together, which if I’m being honest is what our club needs. So why haven’t I made the effort to be friends with her?

I’m pulled from my thoughts when we finally pull up to Y/N’s place. Kelley barely waits for the car to stop before jumping out and running to the front door. I have to almost run to keep up with her. Jesus, she’s a child.  She knocks, but then just walks right in like she’s been here a hundred times already. I slip in the door and look around the rather comfortable looking house. You would never guess that she just moved in a little over a month ago. Ali and Ash really outdid themselves finding this place for her, like damn, it’s really fucking nice. I finally find Kelley in the kitchen, loving up on an adorable Corgi and talking to Y/N. All I do is smile at Kelley, watching her play with the dog on the floor.

“I can’t believe you haven’t brought Luna to see me more. She loves her Aunt Kelley, and obviously missed me,” Kelley says to Y/N as she cradles the dog like a baby. I roll my eyes at her statement and give her a soft smile knowing she wishes she could have a dog of her own one day. Y/N just laughs at Kelley and shakes her head before explaining how she finally got them all moved in and should have time soon to make a trip to see Kelley. I watch Y/N as she talks to Kelley, focusing all of my attention on her. I watch how she holds herself, and my eyes wander to her tattoo-covered arms. Holy fuck she has so many, and they’re all so good. I only have one and I know I’m keeping it to that number, but I still wish I had her confidence to get them where people can see. I’m studying the one that looks like someone’s handwriting that goes down her left shoulder trying to read it, but part of it was hidden under her shirt. Shit. She caught me staring. I try to hide my embarrassment but my blushing gave me away, no doubt. That’s when we finally say hi, but I can’t help but get lost in her eyes. I thought they were light blue because that’s what I’d always seen on the pitch, but this time they’re more of a green-blue. And I’m caught in a trance for a moment while she smiles at me then at Kelley.

“So...drinks?” Kelley asks after she set Luna back on the ground. I’m relieved that someone finally brought up the drinks because that’s what the whole night was about. Not staring at Y/N and getting lost in her fucking beautiful eyes. “Yes, please. I gotta buy you a round after your win,” Y/N says back. Kelley shoots her a cheesy grin and gives her two thumbs up. I roll my eyes at Kelley because she’s the biggest goof I’ve ever known, and she knows it (pretty proud of it, too). “I called the Uber earlier, they should be here by now,” I state as me and Kelley head out the door while Y/N locks up. I beat Kelley to the passenger seat because I’m not going to let her bug our driver, and because I’m the only one who knows where the best bars are. Y/N shoots me a smirk as she walks past the passenger side, and I swear my breath gets caught in my throat. It was small and subtle, but it had an effect on me I couldn’t quite explain.  I give the driver directions to a bar that I’d been to once before and we’re on our way.

After a stress-filled ride to the street the bar was on, we finally get out of the car. I can hear Kelley laughing at something Y/N must have said while in the backseat. I’m not the jealous type when it comes to Kelley because I know she has many, many friends. I know I don’t have to fight to be her best friend since we’ve always been there for each other since we first met back in 2009. I also know she doesn’t get to see Y/N that much since she plays in Utah and has a place in Atlanta and also when she goes on trips with me so much during the year. So I try to give them time to catch up and space by walking a little ahead of them, still able to hear them if they want to tell me something. While trying to figure out where the bar was, my mom calls me. I figure it must be important if she’s calling me this late. “Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys. My mom’s calling me,” I tell them as I head towards a bench. I watch them walk into the bar as I answer the phone.

“Hey, mom,” I say when I finally answer. “Hey, honey. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” she responds. “No, no you didn’t interrupt anything. I’m out with Kelley and a new player on my team, but I can answer your phone calls anytime. What’s up?” I ask a little confused. “I was just calling to let you know that your LA house finally sold. Everything has been dealt with so there’s nothing you have to deal with. Servando is going to send you the rest of your stuff this week,” my mom says with a careful tone. I let out a sigh of relief I didn’t know I was holding back. Finally. I wasn’t tied to him anymore. I can finally move on with whoever I want, without his judgment and hatefulness hanging over my head anymore. “Thank you for telling me, mom. It’s one less thing I have to worry about.” We talk a few more minutes before I tell her I have to go. “Alright, honey. Tell Kelley I said hi and that I love her.” I roll my eyes, knowing how much my mom loved each and every one of my friends, and let out a laugh. “Okay mom, I will.” We say our goodbyes and I make my way into the bar to find Kelley and Y/N.

By the time I find them, Kelley is already about four beers in and several shots deep. She’s talking about the game and what Y/N could’ve done better. Y/N, who is about as deep in as Kelley, is definitely holding her alcohol way better than Kelley. Like seriously, she could pass as sober. I’m not kidding. I order my drink and slide next to Kelley, waiting for the argument to get more heated because I know Kelley, she doesn’t go down without a fight. Y/N is a surprising challenger to watch against Kelley. She isn’t arguing back, she’s holding her ground by telling Kelley what she did wrong. I nearly spit up my drink from laughing so hard at what Y/N said and Kelley’s defensive reaction that she could never pull off drunk. We all finish our drinks not long after that, and Y/N offers to buy the next round. Kelley takes that as her opportunity to jump up and show off her dance moves to whatever song is playing in the bar.

As Kelley and I lead Y/N into another bar, I notice she seems more relaxed than she was when we left her house. And probably more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her if I’m being completely honest. Kelley drags me up on a bar and we just dance as Y/N watches us, laughing harder than she probably ever has. We take three rounds of shots before Y/N pulls us off the bar and outside. She has her hands full with me and Kelley as she forces us in the backseat of the Uber. Kelley and I can’t stop laughing for no apparent reason. Y/N tried to get us to stop but fails multiple times. When the poor man driving us asks where we’re going Kelley blurts out, “Y/N house!” Y/N groans and rolls her eyes at the smiling Kelley as she gives the man the address. 

When we finally pull into Y/N’s driveway, it feels like we’ve been in the car for forever but that probably was the alcohol. She has to drag me and Kelley to her back patio. Kelley calls for Luna, and we both beg Y/N for more drinks. She rolls her eyes before going over to her bar. She produces a whole case of beer for Kelley, probably always keeping her bar stocked with beer just in case Kelley decides to surprise her at any point of the year, and a bottle of wine. She hands Kelley, who is cheering for beer at this point, her drink and then sits by me handing me the bottle of wine we’re going to share throughout the rest of the night.

Kelley’s being her same party animal self, and let’s be honest when is she not? You can’t help but love her for always being on top of her game. I’m just sitting on the couch, trying to feel as relaxed as this bottle of wine will allow me to be. We’re singing along to Kelley’s playlist that’s playing throughout the patio. We belt out a song from the 90s that kids today would never know, but then again I can’t seem to remember the name of the song but we kill the chorus every time. Kelley starts telling a story from her years at Stanford that I’m sure I’ve heard a billion times by now. But I still listen to her anyway because she has pure joy all over her face telling it. I take a good gulp of wine before leaning back on Y/N to hand her the bottle. Next thing I know the song changes to an old Taylor Swift song that I snuck onto Kelley’s playlist as a joke. Feeling the music, and quite bold in all honesty, I stand up and turn to Y/N after setting the wine bottle down on the table. “Do you wanna dance?” I manage to ask in my drunken state while holding my hand out to her. Y/N laughs out loud as she takes my hand, pulling me close as we start to sway side to side still singing the song.

I know I said this before, but Y/N’s eyes are a thing of beauty. They were that entrancing green-blue earlier in the night, but now they’re a cool gray. Almost like a light smoke. Her smile and laugh could cure all the sadness in the world, no joke. She’s gorgeous, and she doesn’t even know it. She likes to be out of the spotlight, out of everyone’s view. But let me tell you this, that’s not the case tonight. She’s all I’ve spent my attention on since we left the house earlier. While I’m taking a closer look at the tattoos on her collar bones, I catch Kelley in the corner of my eye. When I look at her, I start laughing as she’s swaying side to side with Luna, wrapped in her arms, to the music. Y/N realizes what I’m focused on and laughs as she gets on to Kelley. We’re still standing close together, arms around each other but we aren’t moving anymore. Y/N pulls away first, as smooth as a drunk person can. But as she lets go I can’t help but notice my body aches for her touch.

Kelley comes back after what seems like forever, in different clothes that definitely don’t fit her. So that would make them Y/N’s clothes, given that we’re at her house and she’s taller than both of us. Y/N just laughs as Kelley does a small turn showing off her outfit before going back to drinking her beer. The night goes on the same, more of party animal Kel, me finding relaxation I’ve never known or allowed myself to have before, and Y/N finally looks content with us being around her. She might as well get used to it, after tonight I’ll be here drinking with her often for sure. Honestly, Kelley was right, Y/N is great. It’s ridiculous that we weren’t friends before tonight, especially since she’s been with the National Team since the 2015 World Cup. 

After a few more drinks, Y/N finally says we should go to bed considering Kelley had a flight tomorrow and Ali would kill us if we kept Y/N up all night. Kel and I let out a laugh at the mention of Ali and Ash because we all know they’re Y/N’s moms. She has to drag us back inside like she’s had to do all night. She drops us both down on her couch leaving us to grab something from the kitchen. “Isn’t she the greatest?” Kelley slurs as I start giggling at her. “Yeah, she really is. You were right, for once,” I say back. “See, both of my best friends can be friends! I’m so happy right now, Al,” Kelley says with the biggest grin on her face. We can’t stop giggling at my last statement because we both know I’m not wrong. The giggles fill the house as Y/N walks back in the room.

She tells us our sleeping options before saying goodnight and heading upstairs to her room. Kel and I stay up watching an episode of The Handmaid’s Tale and playing with Luna. Kelley keeps posting pictures of Luna on her Instagram story, and I laugh at the voice she uses while talking to the dog. She finally passes out after saying ‘she doesn’t need sleep’. I make sure her alarm is set because I know Christen would be pissed off at me if Kelley was late. After that, I realize I don’t have any clothes to sleep in. I start walking up the stairs, more like stumbling, praying that Y/N is still awake. I knock on her door and she opens it almost immediately, her hair still wet from the shower she obviously just took.

“Coould I borrow some clothess?” I manage to get out through all of my giggles and smiling. I was giggling at her confused expression because, to be honest, it was hot as fuck. She laughed before nodding her head. Evidently, I wasn’t walking too good, because she had to help me to her bed. She gave me a small smirk before she started looking through her clothes. I swear that smirk added 30 years to my life. “Here you go. You can change in the bathroom,” Y/N said as she handed me the clothes and helped me to the bathroom. After she closed the door, I couldn’t stop smiling and I didn’t know why. Had I missed something about Y/N this whole time? Am I that clueless?

I get changed quickly and walk out of the bathroom. She’s sitting on her bed looking at her phone. I guess she realized I was standing there staring at her, yet again. Because she glanced up at me, and my heart just drops at the sight of her, now, blue eyes. Like who’s eyes change color that much? Like she’s gone through every shade of blue and green tonight alone and I swear I’m gonna need a warning before they change color again or I’m not going to make it through the day. I thank her and tell her goodnight again before heading back downstairs, trying to keep from embarrassing myself any more than I already have. When I get downstairs, Kelley is taking up the whole air mattress with Luna cuddling her legs. I sigh and set my things down with my purse and shoes. I stood there weighing my options.

When I finally make my choice, all I do is hope it was the right decision. I make my way back upstairs quietly, hoping not to wake up Kelley. I stand staring at her door for what feels like years before deciding to knock. Before I can the door opens, and all I can do is smile at the beautiful human being in front of me. She gives me a soft smile, and that only builds my confidence more to ask my question.

“Can I sleep with you?”

To Be Continued

#alex morgan #alex morgan imagines #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine #kelley o’hara #uswnt #uswnt imagines #nwsl #woso #woso imagine #You’re the One My Heart Wants

[shinglescat]

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h e n l o

…They stayed at their parents' for a week or two – it was impossible to tell exactly how long with the speed at which time had passed. It wasn't all that boring stay, pretty much entertaining and relaxing, with every familiar face around, though eventually Meltem and Visenya left them for a few days to enjoy themselves in private, away from anyone, to embrace their newly changed status; to discover a different side to each other.

The town hadn't really changed much since he last saw it, even with the civil war right at its doorstep. The folk here lived their own lives, as if there wasn't a threat from the stormcloaks or awoken dragons, carrying on with their daily chores, not looking far into the future to enjoy what time they had left. It was a change after thief ridden Riften, where everything and everyone wanted to rob you of your gold, Mara’s temple being the only beacon in the sea of vile that was that city. Still, under Laila’s hand and her constant attempts at bringing the thieves down it wasn’t as bad as it could have be with Maven’s power and ties to imperials. Kynthara, being the imperial soldier, told them, that should the city get into the hands of the Empire, Maven was the first and the last candidate to replace Laila.

– Haven't seen you in a while, boy, – he heard an elderly voice, – Where have you been? – Eorlund Gray-Mane was standing behind him, carrying a few scrolls in his arms, with orders possibly.

Frankly, everyone in the city knew about his heritage, and surprisingly the nords have been very sympathetic towards him, even despite him being the grandson of one of the commanding Thalmor officers. They had to meet with Balgruuf first, though, as no newcomer could live inside the city without visiting the jarl first for the sake of security. The nord already knew Narandil – he was of a great service to him, and had acquired the title of Thane for his deeds – but the kid he brought had at the very least questionable past, and the man couldn’t afford anyone raiding the city just to get the boy back. The old elf had to swear a hundred of oaths before Balgruuf would cave in and welcome the new citizen of Whiterun, with only one condition – everyone must know everything about the kid to judge him themselves should the threat arise. It surprised Narandil as much as his foster parents that nords took him in without any grudge, treating the child as their own, Gray-Manes saying that the color of his skin or the shape of his ears don’t really matter, for they don’t define who he actually is.

– Hello, Eorlund, – Mark greeted him, turning around to face him, – Riften, but... we do travel a lot. Finally visiting my parents, and it's good to see familiar faces.

The nord let a dry laugh out.

– Aye, bet it is, – he patted the elf on his shoulders, – Why don't we chat over at the Skyforge, eh? You must miss her, – the man laughed again, – Remember you used to help me around?

The elf cringed at the memories, moving along with Eorlund.

– Yep, – he popped the 'p', arching his eyebrows, – And I almost burned that girl to ashes. Please don't remind me ever again, – he muttered quickly, following the man over to the smithy. Apparently, the man still remembered that day clearly to tease him about it like that, still, after all the years. Mark felt sorry for that girl, showing her interest in the kid just to be nearly burned with the burst of flames.

They climbed to the top, the elf getting comfortable on the edge of the forge, as the days were shorter, the winter nearing, and cold getting through the clothes. The heat radiating from it was enough to keep him warm, even making him sleepy.

He’s been watching the man sharpen the swords for a while now, chatting about random things, ranging from the impending doom of the civil war and stormcloak uprising, to the neutrality of Balgruuf, to the talks of dragons flying around and the lives of each other.

– Eorlund, – he called the man after a moment of silence, – Are you still doing jewelry? – Mark asked out of blue, still sitting at the edge of Skyforge.

– Aye, – the nord replied, shifting his attention towards him, – Fralia sells them at the market.

The elf hesitated, playing with the hem of his coat, feeling a little bit too boyish for his comfort.

– Eh, could you make some for me? – The Gray-Mane let out a husky laugh, nodding with his head, – I'd love a couple of diamond earrings in blackened silver, and, – he checked his pockets haphazardly, getting out a thin piece of paper, unfolding it and showing the design to the master, – and a single ring of the same style.

Eorlund fell silent for a moment, studying the drawing.

– Return here in a couple of day, this time, everything will be ready, – the man confirmed the request, going over at the chest with materials.

– How much is this going to cost? Eorlund? – Mark walked towards the man, bowing near his back to look at him.

– Huh? Depends on how much diamonds I will have to use – the Gray-Mane unbent his spine, patting the kid on his shoulder, – Don't look at me all pup-eyes, boy. I could give you a hefty discount though, if you helped me around the smithy for the weekend.

– You can count on me, Eorlund, – he grinned, not noticing how he bounced on his tippy toes.

***

The elf had spent the entire weekend working at the forge, deadly tired by the end of the second day, barely making it into the bed, filthy, covered in sweat, metal and cinders, smelling like fire and blood. Mark could tell why Eorlund offered him that huge discount in exchange for his services, and why he found him roaming the streets in the first place: the order the man had to complete in a couple of days really required another pair of helping hands to made it through. He even considered giving up at some point, willing to pay the full price, persevering in the end. He couldn’t care about washing his face at the end of the day, falling onto the new sheets as is, turning them coal black; before falling asleep however, he didn’t miss the opportunity of a small mischief, gently painting a black stache above the upper lip of Aspen trying not to wake the man up.

The next morning came crushing hard, with the body hurting everywhere he didn’t know it could hurt. Ignoring the calls from Kynthara to join the breakfast, which smelled absolutely mouthwatering – the mother made the stew he loved so bad – he instead hobbled to the baths, opting on spending half a day in the hot water. He scared his parents though, being covered head to toe in coal. Good thing the clothes he had weren’t his though.

After getting the so needed bath and taking his time in the hot water, he made his way up to the Skyforge again, to get his order and to never look back at all the weapons they had made. The jewelry looked beautiful, even better than he anticipated, with the stark diamonds playing on the blackened metal of silver. The other guy is definitely going to love them, Mark thought to himself, making his way back home, happy smile across his face.

The house was already empty, with parents gone to their own respective business: Kynthara was gone to the barracks, having to train the recruits for the city guard; Pantigion gone to Jorrvaskr, tasked with their financial affairs and actual management. The man he was looking for, however, still inside, tinkering with something near the table.

– Hey, – elf called, walking up close him, – I’ve something for you. Come here.

Aspen looked at him, rising a brow in question, yet coming up to Mark, leaving everything behind.

– What is it?

– Here, – Mark opened his palm, the earrings hot from the warmth of his hand, – Bend down, for fuck's sake, – the elf was already standing on his tippy toes, trying to reach the man’s ear. The damn height difference, the kid thought, the guy was taller than anyone he ever knew. He had a hard time hanging a new set of jewelry on him, – Don't you dare to fucking move if you value your nuts, – the guy followed his command and bent a little forward, allowing Mark a better access to the ear. The threats always worked in his favor, he smirked.

– Maybe it is better to lift you instead? – well, not always, since the subject in question was still cocky about it.

– Shush, – the locks on the earrings clicked, and Aspen winced in pain, Mark's face glowing with pleasure, bathing in the discomfort of the other, – Don't tell me it hurts this much, you've all kinds of decorations all over your body, – the kid moved a few steps backwards, admiring the thing he's done – the blackened metal played nicely with myriads of small shining diamonds, and both earrings went well with the piercings the man had, – Suits you well, – he grinned.

The man crossed arms on his chest.

– So, whom did you murder for all these? – he motioned his head at the ring that elf was trying to put on his finger, still eyeing the earrings. The jewelry set was pretty expensive, given both earrings and the ring Mark had for himself were littered with tiny, or not so tiny, flawless diamonds – not a single soul in Skyrim could boast with anything even remotely like that. Then again, he probably didn't murder anyone for these.

– Don't.., – Mark started, raising his index finger, pouting, the ring still in the palm of his hand, – You're the murderer here, and I've commissioned Eorlund Gray-Mane to make these, – and under his breath, quietly, – Both cost a fortune, ugh, and the sleepless weekend, – and in a higher voice, – but they do look pretty!

Aspen grunted to the word.

– They do look pretty. Did not know you had it in you – appreciating jewelry of all things, – his voice leaked with sarcasm, – Thought you called them useless girly trinkets, – he motioned with his finger, asking the kid to move closer.

He couldn't help but let out a groan.

– But they are useless girly trinkets, still! – Mark let out a frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes. The man opened elf's hand, getting the ring from it, placing it on Mark's finger himself, – Ungrateful asshole, – the kid muttered quietly. The blush creeped on his face quickly, turning his face red, flustered; the kid was awkwardly holding his breath, all of a sudden forgetting how to breathe in a normal way – these little "soapy" things will be the death of him, he thought.

– You can breathe now, – he heard near his ear, obscenely gasping for the air. He probably won't ever get used to this, both teasing and not teasing.

***

It was the prettiest thing he had ever gotten himself, and now it also had a sort of sentimental value? It didn’t mean anything; it had no hidden meaning or message, like of the gemstones resembled the stars on the frosty Skyrim nights, or the silver metal had ties to the Sorano-family colors. Nope, it was just a design he had come up with himself the other night, the urge to have it physically almost killing him from the inside. And now it was gone.

He searched through his bearings, then switched to wooden planks of his room – the ring could’ve rolled there pretty easily – no sign of it anywhere in the house. It was impossible that someone took it, it couldn’t fit anyone else given the size of his fingers, yet maybe-maybe someone borrowed it in the end? Like his mother, to show her friends her son’s trinket. Mark left the house, heartbeat too evident in his ears, blood rushing through the veins. He felt anxiety going up his gut, hurting him physically. He shouldn’t’ve removed it and left unsupervised.

With the corner of his eye, he noticed a glint higher up the walkway. He still had hopes of finding it, so might as well check that out, he told himself, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves nervously. Right, the girls had returned, too, but he had no occasion to brag about the new jewelry he got for himself and the other man. They were both there, laughing and giggling at something; the aforementioned man with them, face plain as always. Gods, he’d be lying if he said he missed them, her to be specifically. The elf got closer, noticing something painfully familiar on Visenya’s finger, dangling on it loosely, not fit for her size.

– … prettier than what we’ve got ourselves, – he heard her tell Meltem with a smile on her lips, – Ah-ah, no touchy-touchy, – Visenya slapped Aspen’s hand, turning away from him – he’s been too annoying for her taste, trying to get the hold of the jewelry, – Wonder how much a blacksmith would charge to size it down.

– He will not like it if he sees you with it, – the man told her, trying to get it off her finger again.

– Oh, mind you, he doesn’t even like jewelry, – she replied in a condescending tone, slapping his hand again, harder this time, leaving a red bruise across the pale skin, – Even if he bought something shiny for you, doesn’t mean he all of a sudden loves shiny himself, – the girl stuck the tongue out, winking at him, – I know he got it for me, too bad he doesn’t remember my finger size it…

– Visenya! – the girl didn’t get to finish the sentence, as Mark appeared right by her side, trying to grab her hand, but failing miserably as she made a step back, allowing him to fall forward, following the momentum.

– Oh, thanks for the ring! I was so surprised to see it, such a nice wedding gift from you! – he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not; if it was a joke, the sarcasm wasn’t noticeable at all.

– You have to be jesting, – the elf straightened up, disbelief on his face, – It’s not a gift for you, for fuck’s sake, give it back! – one more lunge, but she pulled aside, avoiding Mark’s hands.

She glanced at him, bewildered; then her expression changed, smirk crawling up her face.

– Oh! That was a surprise! Oh, I’m so sorry I spoiled it! – she smiled innocently at him, taking the ring off of her finger, still not allowing the kid to get it back, – But anyways, it’s a great present!

– It’s not a goddamn wedding gift, you, brat, it’s my ring, – the elf muttered in frustration through the clenched teeth, trying to control the rage forming inside him. It was the usual: Visenya took his toys, and never, ever, returned them back, for some reason finding them better than the ones she had herself, even if they were identical. And she loved to mess with them, damaging beyond any repair, enjoying being the elder sibling.

She was displaying the ring in between her thumb and her index finger, standing like a triumphant she is, with a glint of confusion in her eyes. How could he say it wasn’t a gift, yet it was so pretty, more suitable for a perfect girl like herself? A man passed by her, way not too gentle brushing with his shoulder against her, the impact making the fingers slip and let the ring freely fall to the cobblestone; the three too late to notice the slip, as the ring already bounced off the stone and made its way down the street and to the gates. It happened in a snap, as a Battle-Born man stepped right over it with his steel boots, crushing the stones and bending the metal, way beyond repair.

The kid grabbed the girl by the throat in a blink of an eye, squeezing hard, facial expression unreadable, void of any emotion. There was fire in his eyes though, fury and rage, suddenly way too bright not too notice, everything he had carried so far in himself bursting open at a single person, washing over him, making him lose control. It was fast, beyond anyone’s capability to register what was about to happen. Visenya squirmed, gasping for the air like a fish stranded on a shore, trying to pry the tenacious grip of Mark's fingers off of her neck, slowly losing it, her vision fading to black. Someone else tried to pry his fingers open then – he may be feeble, yet he has a grip of an attack dog – with no luck, to which he only growled, seemingly unaware of his actions, tunnel vision keeping him fixated on the quickly whitening face, until someone's hand collided with his cheek, the smack so loud and painful, making him return to his senses. He wanted to hurt her, wanted to hurt her bad.

Visenya fell on the cobblestone with all her four, breathing loudly, checking her neck with her hands as if it was injured once again. Mark looked at her, his eyes unseeing, rage and fury still burning in his chest, as he realized what did just happen. Meltem already dropped to her knees, mouth agape, as she checked the almost strangled girl for any external injuries; Aspen was rubbing the palm of his hand, skin red from the hit. Elf’s gaze shifted at the girl again, flames igniting in his chest tenfold.

– Fuck you, – he said to no one in particular, feeling of unjust heavy within him; quickly pacing towards the city gates. He heard Meltem tell someone to follow him, but he didn't look back. He didn't feel any remorse. He had enough.

***

No one did follow him, probably thinking he needed some time alone. Yes, he definitely needed some time alone, probably more than millennia of time to get over it. The brat had it coming – she got what she deserved. Would probably be better if he strangled her right then and then, the image of her life fading felt more satisfying. Yet somehow letting her go felt better, not in a sense he let her live because she is his sister after all, or that he felt pity killing her, but in a way that she got her punishment, and the next time she crosses his path – it will be way more severe than the last time.

He jumped of a crate, moving closer to his horse. That merc he hired to assist them should be here soon, and he needs to get his bearings together for their journey to the Sea of Ghosts. He should've stuck to using mercenaries instead of a group of fucking relatives – less headaches that way, and mercs are not interested in anything else but their pay, so that could be more beneficial to him.

A strong shiver ran though him, making him shake and tremble as if it was too cold outside suddenly, his teeth chattering. The feeling of emptiness replaced his anger and rage as the adrenaline production stopped in his body, leaving him sad, feeling broken and alone. He checked the saddle on more time, pulling on the straps to see if they were holding the thing together, then moved back to the crate, seating back in his place with his legs pressed to his chest. Mark tried to relax, breathing in and out slowly, to will the feeling to go away, but it did not want to let go. He sighed, muttering something under his breath, instead humming a sad melody he heard once, but this time – it didn’t help, making him want to cry it, scream it at the top of his lungs, so loud so everything that was bothering him would just depart from the inside.

– Whatcha singin'? – he was startled by a familiar voice near him. Well, that was something new: he usually was the most paranoid one, always on the high alert, but this time he let his guard down, allowing someone to sneak up on him, – Hey babe, you okay? – Mark sighed, looking over at the mercenary. The guy had an artificial arm made of something unnatural, this time covered by a thick fur coat, his hand poking out of the sleeve – the elf hasn’t seen a prosthetic like that anywhere. The man’s eyes were of vibrant blue, glowing in the shadows, irises too unnatural, hell, whites too, too bright and without the capillaries. The face was a little bit off, looking excessively… pretty, for someone of his kind of job – the dude definitely took care of his looks.

– Just fuck off, James, – he jumped of the crate to mount his horse instead, – You're ready or what? – Mark led his horse to the entrance, exiting the stables. The sooner they depart – they sooner they will be far away, and the sooner they will get his cousin out of whatever place she’s been kept prisoner. He couldn’t help but throw a quick glance back at the city entrance though, noticing two figures running towards them right away. That made the kid groan in frustration, he didn’t want to deal with anyone of them at the moment.

– Always ready for you, babe, – the mercenary winked at him, mounting his horse, following the elf that was waiting for him on the road.

– Babe? – a female voice asked, concerned in the guy's pet names, making them both turn their heads to the sound of it. The merc took his goddamn sweet time coming here, for sure, stalling them both to allow the others to catch up with them. Meltem was way beyond being angry, Aspen besides her had a pissed look on his face himself – a big change for his facial expressions, Mark thought to himself.

– Look at you, dayum, – James whistled at the woman, eyeing her breasts without any shame. The woman cocked her brow at that, rolling her eyes.

– For fuck's sake, James! – Mark had to shout at the mercenary to get his attention back. Alright, maybe sticking up with mercs wasn't such a great idea, but this guy here was good at trailblazing and pathfinding, and he could put up with him flirting with everything on two legs for the time being. He still could punch him if he annoyed him too much, – Shove the flirt up your ass!

– Everything for you, sweetpea, – he snorted in amusement, watching the pair with the corners of his eyes – the pet names seemed to universally enrage everyone, bringing way too much joy for the mercenary, – Let's roll?

– Yeah, – Mark nodded, trying his best to ignore his companions, until the ashen haired man grabbed him by his ankle as if about to drag him off his saddle, grip way too strong to shake it off. The elf sighed, rolling the eyes, before snapping, – What?! – he was unpleasantly surprised by the bark he let out, and judging by the faces of everyone around him – that didn’t escape their notice.

– Just don’t do what you may regret later, – with that the hand on his ankle let him go.

Mark let himself laugh hysterically.

– Read my lips, – he addressed both his friends, leaning over from the saddle, – You can go fuck yourselves, – Mark spat taking off, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. It hurt that they didn’t follow them or tried to stop him despite what he told himself – that it’s going to be better this way; they let him go away with a complete stranger instead.

***

– So what's with the murder on your face? – the merc asked after days of silence. He didn’t seem to be concerned, really, but he was pretty chattery, and apparently just had a hope for a small talk, – Not that I'm against of murder, but as far as I remember it's a rescue mission.

He made the elf roll his eyes. The man just couldn’t keep his mouth shut despite Mark’s orders and pleas.

– Bought an expensive ring for myself, – he told the mercenary with a heavy sigh, deciding on indulging the man, – sister found it, obviously, thought it was meant for her, never mind the size, – Mark looked at the sea, ever so cold, – Destroyed it in the end. So, I nearly strangled her, – the elf shared, voice blank as it was the usual business.

– Strangled her? Your own fucking sister? – James asked again with disbelief, – Sucks to be you, man. Did she do it on purpose?

– Yes, almost strangled her. Did you saw their faces? They literally wanted to whip my ass, – he stopped the horse near a broken tree, brought here by the mighty winds it seemed: there was an old boat, stranded in the shallow water, bobbing gently with the waves. It was cold this close to the open sea: soft breeze before the storm getting through the layers of clothes and under the skin; the promise of blizzard lingering in the air, as the air currents were driving dark snowy clouds forth from the north, the seam between the sea and the sky invisible in the thick veil already. Mark shuddered, hiding his head deeper into the furs. And no barrier all around to protect them from the storm, – No, don't think so, she just wanted to mess with it and with me, and she has arms growing out of her ass, – he closed his eyes, breathing heavily, trying to fight the frustration rising in his chest again.

– Nah, I saw something else, – the merc dismounted his steed, grinning with his white teeth. He made a weird gesture with both hands, showing something round in front of him, rhythmically moving them up and down next. The breast size of Meltem, exaggerated. The kid groaned, – By the way, – he asked in a small voice, conspiratorially bowing closer to the elf, – Is she with that creepy guy? Would be a shame, 'cause dayum those..., – he showed the breasts again, bouncing on his soles, his hands moving up and down under the imaginary gravity. Mark wanted to ignore that, doing his best, before slipping a smile, and bursting into a hearty laugh, mood lightening up.

– She'd murder you if you were in her immediate vicinity, she's not into dudes, – he couldn't help but smile against his own volition at the way the man portrayed a caricature of his friend.

James straightened up, pointing a finger at the elf, victory written in his face.

– Aha, thought you're not as shitty as you seem to be, – he rounded the kid, throwing his arm around elf's shoulders, – Right, babe?

Mark pushed the guy right into the boat as they were nearing it. The man let out a strangles moan, landing on the damp wood with his face.

– You’re rowing, darling, – he added with sarcasm, noting another disappointed moan as the man tried to get up, grabbing the paddles. Mark was just in time for the merc to recover and use the paddle to push from the shallows and into the sea, to the lone castle far away, completely covered in mist that hid it from everyone’s view.

– So, you didn't tell me if she's single, – James groaned painfully, as he had to move the weighty paddles, – Fuck, must’ve fallen on my rips.

– Not anymore, she's my sister's official wife, or husband, I dunno, for a few weeks already. Spoiled brat, – he cursed under his breath, shivering with the each blow of the northern wind.

– Well then, what can be better than two girls making out, am I right, especially if they're joined by a strong man? – he wiggled his eyebrows, laughing at the "ew" sound Mark made as well as his facial expression.

The man conveniently slipped into a current, making it easier for him to row the boat to the castle. It spread for quite the distance, starting just a few miles away from the shore and ending almost at the castle’s doorstep. But the chilling winds of sea – that was something to endure. The merc seemed to be okay, being completely covered in furs and generating heat by piloting the boat, yet for the already sea sick elf it was hell incarnate, being too nauseous from the constant bobbing on the high waves and cold as the result of being sick. The river boating was a far cry from the same, but in an open sea, with waves throwing them up and down. And by the end of the travel he looked rather pale than usual, wishing to just lay on the ground and die. However, the mercenary had the other plans, practically manhandling the kid right to the secret shipyard at the back of the castle.

They were met with a certain resistance from undead forces guarding the place. They had to fight their way through before they could enter the castle, and then it was James's job, again, to get them up to the tower in one piece, unnoticed by any force. He had to stop them in dark lone corners every once in a while to check on the map Meltem stole from the embassy – the route discovered by a thalmor infiltrator; the map claimed to be wary of living statues and dozens of undead, however, the portal room deemed to be safe. But traversing through the portal was another story. It wasn't all that hard for them to reach the laboratory, and Mark was kinda grateful to the man with him for doing all the stealth job himself. It was a miracle they didn't trigger anything, nor stumbled upon walking skeletons. But he couldn't help but think about his friends once again – they would gather all kinds of nasties if they went all together.

– Hey, – James closed the door to the laboratory himself, leaning against it and sliding to the floor, – How about a few hours of rest? My body is killing me, – he sighed, getting off the floor and changing his rest location to a carpet he noticed a little bit further into the room.

– Sure, wouldn't mind that, – Mark plopped near the guy himself, a few paper rolls in his hands as well as a couple of tree twigs he found lying around the place, dumping everything in a couple of feet away from them and hoping he won't blow the thing apart with his magic. His hands lit up, flames dancing between the fingers, and he carefully fired up the paper, trying his best to keep himself in control. The paper caught the flames, and elf gently placed it back into the pile, spreading the fire to the other things in his makeshift campfire. He could've used the fireplace instead, but James advised against that, mentioning the vampires living in here, and that they don't want any more unwelcomed guests, and smoke from the fireplace would definitely alert the residents of the castle.

Mark reached his hands to the fire, warming up his frozen hands, the heat from the flames finally allowing him to bend the joints of the fingers properly. The mercenary moved closer, reaching his good hand to the fire too, the other – artificial one – still somewhere behind him.

– So, what are we doing? That books of yours, or not so yours, says we need to be either undead or bind ourselves to a soul gem, whatever that means? – James looked at the elf in question, then glanced at the staircase leading to the portal, a violet glow seeping through.

– I... don't know. I've two scrolls that can... bind souls? but a part of a soul? I'm kind of afraid to use it too, – Mark retrieved the scrolls from somewhere beneath his coat, handing them to the man, – You should do it, unless you want me to blow up this place. I'm bad in magic department, like really bad.

The merc snickered.

– Yeah, I heard about some "criminal" blowing up the thalmor embassy, – James winked at him, waggling his eyebrows, – I need to pee, be right back, – he said, getting on his feet and going in the corner near the door.

– Ew, you know... Actually never mind, I need to pee too, – the elf raised from the floor too, instead moving to the door leading to the balcony, – But unlike you I'm going to do it over the railing at the balcony.

The guy that already had unzipped his pants, zipped them back.

– Want to make our presence known with some yellow snow? I'm in, – the man grinned.

Before switching their attention to the glowing with violet portal, they had a couple of hours of rest, to get their strength back for traversing to the other side, with unknown waiting for them. Mark couldn't help but let his thoughts wander back to what had happened a few days ago, with him and his sister, what she and the others thought of him. Now with the time that had passed since the event, he actually felt sorry for losing control like that, for almost strangling her, for telling his companions to go fuck themselves, for all the thoughts that he had in regards to Visenya. But he was still pissed at her for destroying something he worked hard for – the only pretty shiny ring that he ever got for himself, and the amount of money he put to get it. He shouldn't’ve lost control. But he saw red, blacked out until Aspen slapped him across his face. He used to have those black outs before. It was just as if his body was operating on an autopilot, yet he himself gave commands to it, fully aware of his actions; however, it always seemed like his entire self had a switch somewhere deep inside him that... changed him like that. His first... victim, victims... were some kids that made fun of him, calling him a half-blood, back on Alinor. They were lucky Esmir was nearby, successfully stopping her very young grandson from murdering the other kids. He still remembered the look on her face, something between being proud and being afraid, yet she didn't let that known. Instead of punishing him for the outburst, she had her physician check on him, and after that assigned a trainer to him to keep him in check. The other was Orlan: the bosmer was way too violent with the kid, and Mark couldn't stand that any longer, jumping at the man in a snap, aiming at his face. He bit the tip of his ear off and tried to claw his eyes out, leaving three long scars across the face. It was a miracle the bosmer was saved at all... He was humiliated, scars serving a bitter reminder; even if he says he got those form an especially vicious dog he had to train once, in reality it was just a boy that had enough. There were others too, all way too lucky to be saved by Orlan that was appointed by Esmir to guard the kid from anyone, or rather anyone from the kid. Guess all the skills he had learned from the countless hounds trained helped him to keep Mark in control.

– Yo, kid, you're awake? – the merc dropped near him, checking if he was sleeping or not.

– Not anymore, no, – he shook his head, getting to his feet slowly, – Should we head out? – it sounded a little bit more uncertain than he would've liked.

– Yeah, can't stall this forever, – James headed upstairs, to the staircase leading to the portal. He read the scrolls once again, preparing, before casting a spell on himself, a soul gem in his pocket slightly shining, – Come here, your turn! – he called for Mark, watching the kid, nervous, stand before him, awaiting for the inevitable soul bind; the merc reading the scroll aloud, – The shit didn't work, – cursing, the merc tried again, as the elf closed eyes, as if expecting a jolt of pain or a hit, – Fuck, the hell doesn't it work?

Mark pried one eye open.

– Stop messing around, just hit me with the spell, – he pleaded, and the man tried to do so again, only to find the spell fail one more time.

– I surely do this right, but the thing doesn't work with you, – James looked over at the scroll and at the soul gem the elf was holding – it seemed like Mark's soul just refused to be bound, let alone to be torn apart. Maybe the soul gem was filled? Can't be, it seems to be empty. Still, he handed the elf another one from the enchanting table, and a dozen of others they found lying around the room, – Hey, it may sound a bit weird, but maybe you could try to pass through the portal as is? Something tells me...

– I'm not gonna pay you if I die to a portal sucking me off.

The man laughed aloud, slapping a hand on his thigh.

– I'd actually pay myself to see a portal sucking off someone.

– You're disgusting, – the elf smiled, actually getting ready to traverse through as is.

– I'm not getting you our if it starts sucking on you, just a warning. I'm a pervert, and I want to see it, – but contrary to his words, James grabbed a fistful of Mark's coat and followed him into the portal, violet light engulfing them both.

They stepped out of the portal on the other side. A barren wasteland lied there with topless black towers dominating over the gray sand. A whirlwind of colors danced above the desert.

– Fuck me, this is the fucking Soul Cairn, – James muttered, looking all over the place, – How didn't I put one and two together earlier? Shit.

– What's the matter?

The place looked familiar somehow, but elf couldn't tell what exactly was that. He's never been here, never seen anything like it, yet the colors, noises, wind; the ambiance was pretty... recognizable, if only he could place a finger at...

– ... Mission control to the knife ear, come in, – James poked elf's sides, making him stop spacing out.

– Yeah, yeah, what? Sure, – he shook his head, – Just... weird place.

– Yep, – the human popped the p, looking around, – As I was saying, this place is a fucking mess, and if I knew you were to drag me here, I'd tell you to fuck off. Oh, by the way, have you ever had a near death experience?

– You talk a lot, – Mark squinted at him, – Nope, never had anything like that.

– Then how the hell were you able to get here? Anyways, despite how much I want you to take your time, and I must absolutely remind you that I, your handsome mercenary, take pay per hour, we should get going. It's too weird in here for me. Also dangerous. Oh, and we should get that piece of my soul back, too.

The elf didn't reply, instead focused on the map he grabbed from the man. Shit, the guy talked too much. Livaen was here somewhere, far from the entrance, as much as he could tell from the writings. That journal with the map in it said she was kept in a castle of sorts, and it won't be an easy thing to miss once they head deeper in the place.

James also turned out to be way too smart and skillful than Mark initially anticipated. The guy had a talent for avoiding ambushes and walking undead. He even asked if the merc had been to this place before, admiring his skill in avoiding traps in this god forsaken world. And he couldn't help but wonder how would it be like with the rest of his company, triggering the enemies and traps all the way to the destination, fighting off hordes of skeletons and ghosts on their way there. And someone would probably get injured, like bad, that's inevitable with the annoying girl.

They reached the place where the piece James's souls was stored at, taking a moment of rest to review their progress in a seemingly safe place after at the top of a ruined tower, away from the life sucking crystals and walking monsters. From this spot the world was like on a palm of a hand, so vast and empty.

– You think too loud, – the merc slid down the wall, getting comfortable on the floor, – Still think about that annoying sister of yours?

– Can't help it, – Mark sighed, lying on the cold black stone.

– Were you comparing me with those friends of yours? – the guy smirked, getting a candy for himself out of a pocket.

– Uh-uh, I said I can't help it, – elf nodded, rubbing his hands against his pants to get them a little bit warmer: for some reason they couldn't get a fire going in here, – Wonder if Aspen would call her charming ever again.

– The creepy guy with..., – he made another gesture showing tits, as Mark groaned, – I mean, not his tits, that would be even creepier, but that shmexy lady with the tits.

– Shmexy? Gods, you're obnoxious, merc, – elf laughed. The guy had an exceptional ability to lighten the mood anywhere.

– You know, – all of a sudden James's voice sounded way too serious, – Even if she is annoying, obnoxious, and you hate her with all your guts, she still is your sister.

– I don't pay you for philosophy.

– No, I'm seriously, listen. I... would give a lot to get my sister back, hell, even parents too. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but you catch my drift. You gotta admit you still love her. Otherwise, you wouldn't arrange a rescue mission for this another sister of yours. You may have some problems communicating with her later, yes, but you'll find out you still care for her, that's how it works. Even if you tried to kill her – well, happens, that's how sibling relationship works. But you don't hate her. You'll come around. She'll be okay too.

Mark tried his best not to listen to the mercenary, though the harder he tried to do so, the harder he listened to the man. Everything he said – it is true. He was frustrated and angry with her, very-very angry, but she's... she's still his sister, someone he's been growing up together. Losing her would definitely cost a lot more than that ring. Yes, the ring was expensive and pretty, but his relationship is kind of worth more.

– She's an asshole, – he muttered under his breath, hiding his face between his legs, as he pulled them to his chest, – Yeah, I do care. But... yep, it'll be of a great trouble to talk to her after, – it seemed ridiculous, the guy had a talent of a preacher, – You sound like a fucking Mara priest.

The guy only smiled an honest smile, winking at the kid.

– You should’ve told her it’s a cock ring though, she’d return it in no time.

The elf slapped himself flat across the face, groaning.

They spent a couple more hours at the top of the tower, planning their routes to and back, observing the whole place from a bird's eye view. Here, that dreaded castle could be seen, black walls surrounding it. It seemed like this place hadn't had any guards around, or they all should be inside, making the castle infested with all kinds of monsters, though judging by the infiltrator's journal there were none, like at all, with the only prisoner in there – a lone and scared girl. And after they were done arguing about the best way to get to the castle and back, they headed down and to their destination, following James's proposed plan.

As they got close, they could really tell that the place had no guards whatsoever, not even undead, and the infiltrator’s journal was right all along. Except that they found at least two bodies in thalmor armor, dead for a long time already, bodies already decomposing.

James slowly opened the giant gate, leading to the courtyard of the castle, trying his best not to let the door squeak; Mark followed him closely behind, bow ready for the possible ambush. He breathed out in relief, sheathing the weapon, as the was no one to attack them, but the mercenary still didn’t lower his guard, commanding the elf to cover and slowly progress forward. Until he saw a woman figure, all alone in this place, sitting on a stair of stones, book in her hand. Her raven black hair covered her face, wavy as ever; he clothes clean without any signs of struggle.

Mark left the cover despite James’s commands, moving closer to her, his speed increasing with each step taken, and at the end he was just running carelessly, getting her attention with the loud impacts with the ground of his heavy reinforced boots.

– Markus! – she howled, her mouth agape, covered by her hand, – Is this really you? – she lunged forward, letting the kid collide with her, the embrace ever so warm. The thoughts raced in her head, as she still didn’t believe her eyes. She broke from the hug, his hands still on her back though as if she was about to run away, studying his face carefully, then hugging him again after she made sure he wasn’t a dream, – I missed you so much! It’s been years since I last saw you!

The elf tightened the hug, lifting her from the ground to get a better squeeze from his cousin.

– Yes, I've had that name for couple dozens of years already, – he couldn't help but reply with sarcastic tone, smiling to the girl, – Are you okay? Are you hurt?

– No, no, I'm all okay, – she let him go, smiling for the first time in forever being the prisoner here, doing a step back to make some space between them. They were joined by the mercenary soon that had his bow ready to defend them should the need arise, – What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here!

– I know, but... I went through all the trouble to get to you, so I don’t really give a damn. We need to get you out of here asap, – he grabbed her by her wrist, looking all around them, as if someone would interfere. They could leave the courtesies for the later, when they are back in their world, yet the girl seemed to dislike the idea, as the smile faded from her face

– I can't go. You won't be able to get me out of here, – she said, sadness in her voice, – All the agents Esmir had sent – all failed. This place just won't let go, Markus, – Livaen felt a prickle of a tear in the corner of her eye, wiping it with her hand, – I know you're better than them, but even you won't succeed. Even Esmir herself, – they let the silence fill the pause, looking at each other. Only a moment ago she was happy to see him again, feeling completely destroyed now by being unable to leave. A sound of thunder startled them, lightning lighting up the place for a second, prompting the girl to throw a quick glance behind her shoulder, panic visible in her eyes, – Quick, hide! – the girl shoved both men away from herself, – Hurry! – she bellowed, making them run away from her, to hide behind piles of rubble, watching her closely. A lightning bolt stroke the ground in a few feet away from her, allowing a human figure appear in the violet glow. It made a few steps towards her, away from the fading light, opening its arms in greeting.

– Good day, Livaen, – the figure bowed, and Mark finally noted it was actually a noble looking man, – Do you have any news for me? Did your esteemed grandmother send another agent? – he moved closely, voice leaking with venom at the only mention of Esmir.

– No, – she replied, voice stern, but with barely noticeable tremble to it.

– Are you sure? Do you remember what happens when I am lied to? – the man rounded her, looking around, – I'm certain someone has passed through the portal, and actually made it here, such a rarity, – his voice deep, cold and husky, dangerous tone masked as indulgent.

– The agent has already left, – she never was a good liar, but the tone with which she spoke made Mark swell with pride, – You are too late.

The man laughed huskily, looking all around the rubble of the courtyard, and Mark could've sworn the stranger's gaze stopped right there, where the elf was hiding, looking straight into the eyes for a moment, before shifting back to the girl.

– I will let this lie pass, this time, – he nodded, – Because not only the agent didn't left, we have actually two guests hiding behind the rubble, – his voice different, threat palpable this time, – Your new friends should come out if they value your life just as much as I do, – James threw a glance over at Mark, shooting daggers at him in question. The elf only shrugged his shoulders, ready to get on his feet and out from the cover, as the merc stopped him with a gesture. With no response, the stranger sighed with frustration, – As much as I would love to play with you both, you have to come out at some point, and it's better be now. Do you hear me? – no response again, – Markus, – he said all of a sudden, making the elf glance over at James with an unpleasant surprise written on his face, – Welcome to my world. I would be grateful if you could gather all your courage together and face me, – the man let out a sarcastic laugh, – So much for the fabled arsonist…

The elf sighed in defeat, getting out from behind the rubble pile.

– I'm facing you, now what? – he spread his arms in question. The mercenary followed him, leaving the cover.

The man looked over the intruders, then around himself, as if someone else had been watching them.

– This isn't how I wanted this to happen, – he said, squinting at something in the distance, uninterested in the men in an unsettling way, – But there's not much time left, – the man switched his gaze back at the intruders, also commanding Livaen to come forward with a motion of his hand. He seemed to be overly concerned about something, being almost at the edge of paranoia, as he continued talking to the strangers, – I'm going to contact you soon, – he pointed at the elf, – when it will be safe, without anyone else to overhear us.., – Mark opened his mouth to speak up, and the man didn't even let him start a sentence, interrupting him with a gesture of his hand, pressing the index finger to his lips, – Your "friends" here are the least of my concern, believe me, but we are not alone here anymore, as another party is about to join us, – with a sigh, he pushed the girl towards them, Mark catching her into his embrace, – Take the girl and get out of here. Think of it as a demonstration of my good will, – the company hesitated, not sure if the man before them was joking or not. He let out another frustrated sigh – mortals seem to be too dense these days, – Get out, now, – the man calmly told them, – You don't want to be here when the other party arrives. Livaen, see to it. Now out! – he clapped with his hands, prompting the three to go running away from him and out of the gates.

They exited the courtyard and back into the barren wasteland. It seemed to be even quieter now, void of anything, even the undead roaming around. Except for a few ones that passed by right in front of them, ignoring the living. Mark raised a hand for his companions to stay quiet, trying to pick any noise around – complete nothingness, however, a sound of fighting could be heard in the distance, and Livaen ushered them all forth, throwing glances in the direction of the sound.

– Who was that? – James broke the silence, addressing the girl.

– We must not talk while we are here, – she replied, taking the lead of the company.

Following Livaen, they made a big circle around the path they had taken before, avoiding visible roads and paths at any costs. The monsters, ghosts, undeads – they all seemed to abandon the place, none to be found all around them except for a few weak ones, crawling to the sounds of fight slowly, disregarding the living. Despite the sudden absence of any inhabitants of the world, the girl did not let anyone stop or take a moment to catch a breath, instead herding them to the glowing violet in the distance, portal presumably.

Mark glanced back at the castle, a good distance separating them now. It was just as before, yet a sound of thunder and explosions came from its direction, and once they climbed a hill – a battle could be seen. This is where all the undead went, leaving their usual positions of idling – they tried to stop someone, or rather something, from getting close to the black walls of the castle they've been to before. He looked back at Livaen, wanting to ask her something, but stopping himself right when he was about to open his mouth. The stance of the girl told him there was no time for bullshit.

They finally made it to the portal. The sounds of fight even louder than before, a whole magic show behind them, visible through the thick mist. Livaen wasn’t about to waste any more time, shoving the men up the stairs, following them closely behind. Mark couldn't tell the reason for her to be so rough, but he didn't question it, obeying every single her command. Once they were to the other side, however, she let a sigh of relief, cueing the men to relax, as she herself slit the palm of her hand with a shiv, swiftly closing the portal, stones of the stairs crumbling as the magic binding it together disappeared, completely destroying the passage.

– They will have to find another way out once they find out we are not there anymore, – she told her cousin, noticing the question on his face. A healing spell lit up in her hand, closing the bloody wound on the other one, – I guess you have questions?

The mercenary let out a hysterical laugh, collapsing on the floor not far away from everyone.

– Like hell! Who the fuck was that, and what was that fight all about? – James asked, catching his breath. Mark leaned against the wall near him, sliding to the floor, strength long gone from the escape.

– Yeah, who was that? – the elf's breath seemed to be completely knocked off.

– You do not know? – she asked, surprised, joining them by the wall, – You went to rescue me without knowing what were you about to face? – the men nodded, telling her the journal didn't mention anyone else, besides monsters and undead, – You are goddamn fools, do you know that? – Mark laughed at that, still having problems with steady breathing, and James only raised his hands in agreement, – Molag Bal. That was Molag Bal himself, you morons, – she heard the mercenary choke on saliva.

– Wait-wait-wait, – he uttered, still coughing, – How was that possible? Also, doesn't he usually r-a-p-e anyone in his vicinity?

– Too busy with whatever is bothering him, – Livaen replied, gaze wondering around the laboratory, – Ever since I got in his hands, it was the complete opposite of what common knowledge says of him. But he did murder all those agents that were unfortunate enough to not take the cue to leave in time, – she exhaled, deeply, troubled with saying the next sentence, choosing her words carefully, – I was brought by a dremora of his to the Coldharbour first… in a bad shape. Thought I was done for. But… he showed mercy? It was… bizarre.

– And what about the "other party" he spoke about? – Mark asked, eyebrow cocked. The words of the most cruel daedric prince being merciful shocked him, yet he didn’t let that show. Somehow he felt like pressing into the matter further wouldn’t go as great at the moment, the questions should wait at least until they’re safe, – Did they chase us?

– I don't know anything about them. But I know enough that he feels... threatened about it, – she let a sigh out.

They stayed quiet for a while: the merc was fast asleep, too tired to stay awake; the kid was spacing out, mind completely blank; the girl in her own thoughts, curled around the arm of her cousin.

– You said you're broken, alone, cold, – Mark broke the silence, addressing Livaen.

She looked at him, surprised, pulling back a little.

– No, I didn't.

– No, no, you said it in my dream...

– In your dream? Mark.., – she sounded confused, – Mark, I can't go into anyone's dreams, that is something... something way beyond my capabilities... I.., – she didn't finish the sentence, falling quiet instead.

– ...What did happen to you?

– I don't want to talk about it, – the girl replied, changing the pose to face away from the cousin. The elf looked at her, contemplating on the choices here, opting on pulling her closer: he extended the arm, grabbing her by the front and pressing her back into a hug. Should have done this earlier, as the girl relaxed, – I missed you. Came all the way from Summerset to the border of Skyrim.

Mark snorted.

– Yeah, speak of the brave girls, – he gently stroked her head, placing a kiss at her temple, – I missed you too, – Mark wanted to press into the matter, ask more about what really happened to her, yet she didn't feel comfortable talking, it seemed, and instead he focused on soothing her. Eventually she will tell him. With that, he slowly drifted to sleep, too carefree now to feel bothered by the ancient vampire castle.

***

They made it back to the outside later that day and back to the boat. Skyrim greeted them with blazing storm, wind howling among the rock and rubble, water splashes from the sea turning ice midair, snow whirlwinding all around them. The girl was obviously not used to these conditions, trembling under the cold Skyrim wind, even covered in fur blanket James had brought with him before.

Going back during a snowstorm proved to be more than difficult: they almost managed to get lost in the waters, nearly sailing towards the frozen, fabled Atmora, but were lucky enough to catch the same current that brought them back to the shore from which they had departed, only mere moments before the blizzard worsened. It was fun, so to speak. Livaen urged them to go forth, despite cold and blowing wind, snow acting like a sandpaper, bruising their frostbitten skin.

It’s been a few more days until they finally got back. They were deadly tired, their horses as well - poor animals had to endure a lot; the blizzard spread across whole Haafingar and extended to the borders of Whiterun hold, slowing them down, making them stop for camping rather often. Mark had never seen the weather be this bad, given the years he’s been away from Summerset. For a southern girl – Livaen thought of this as of a complete hell, saying that being the prisoner wasn’t as bad as the snowstorm.

– We’re here, – Mark dismounted his horse, helping Livaen to get down next, passing the animal to the man in charge of the stable, – Take care of them, they’ve been through a lot, – to that the man nodded, waiting for the other guy to give his horse into the care. James patted his steed by the neck, allowing it to go after the caretaker, – We won’t need your assistance any further, – the elf addressed the mercenary. He reached the inner pockets of his coat, getting out a pouch with gold, – Your pay. Should be enough.

The merc smirked, weighting the pouch on his hand.

– Yep, seems about right, – he swiftly untied the knot, looking at all the coins inside, – It’s been good dealing with you, dear, would love to work with you once more, – James extended his hand to Mark, shaking their hands. The elf winced – he definitely wouldn’t hire anyone again in the near future, as the pay of the mercenary had caused a huge blow to his budget, and the pet names were too annoying. The guy still was one of the best in this entire province, so he didn’t really mind much.

– Thanks for helping me, – the kid smiled an honest smile, – I wouldn’t’ve gotten my sister back without you, – he tugged the girl into a half hug, finally at peace with her around.

– Saying your goodbyes already? I’m wounded, – the man theatrically laughed, – It was a fun ride, so I’d like to see you actually get to safety of your parents’, – James motioned at the direction of the city with his artificial hand, suggesting to finally end their journey. The elves nodded, following him, chatting amicably.

They were at the doorstep of the house, Mark ready to knock the door, instead just allowing them in. Before he could do that, however, James’s hand stopped him, carefully squeezing his arm.

– Whatever happens, she, – he made an emphasis at the mess that happened a week or so ago, – she still is your sister. And you love her, despite her being a brat, – The man let him go, allowing to proceed. Mark sighed, loudly, nodding with his head to acknowledge the mercenary’s words. Right. Whatever happens, it’s all past now, and he can’t allow them all to be divided again.

The door opened, and Mark let himself in, gesturing the others to enter the house. The house was empty, no sound of anyone inside. The fire in the fireplace kept going though, something cooking in the pot, steam coming from under the lid.

– Is anyone home? – he asked loudly, waiting for someone to reply or come out. Not a single soul, – Guess everyone’s out, – Mark shrugged his shoulders moving to the kitchen to find some edibles to consume – they’ve all been starving.

After eating some of the stew the mother had made, the three moved over to the fireplace, getting comfortable on the rug near it. The warmth was something they had definitely missed in the past few days. The leisure time was spent in talking to each other, discussing their journey or plans for the future; the mercenary quickly drifted to sleep not a while after – it was ridiculous how quick he could just fall asleep; as well as the girl, comfortable in the brother’s embrace. Now that Mark was alone wide awake, the thought about pressuring Livaen into telling him about what happened to her had crossed his mind again, yet he had enough empathy to tell she was not ready to open up yet. Couple more minutes, and he drifted to sleep himself, exhausted from the rescue and quite comfortable in the warmth of the house.

– … that turnip was bad, – was heard on the other side of the door before it swung open, an old and scarred elf appearing on the doorstep. He first reached to the sword on his back, noticing the intruders, then just lunged forward, recognizing the sleeping people, – By the nine! – his heavy armor made a screeching noise as he fell down before them, kneeling at their level. The noise startled the three awake: the man just groaning in response, shifting to the other side just to face away from the doorway; the girl blinking with her widely open eyes, mouth agape; the kid just utterly confused, trying to push the elf away from them. Without any success in shoving the old man back, the altmer retaliated, grabbing the kids into a tight hug, nuzzling into their hair. The girl whined, unable to breathe, and Narandil loosened the grip on them both, instead cupping Livaen’s face with his palms, – I had no hopes of seeing you again, – he gently stroked her head.

The others swiftly joined the old man, gathering all around them.

– I’m surprised you made it back, – the redguard woman said, kneeling down near them. That went out in a different tone that she initially planned on, – I’m sorry, didn’t mean it to sound like that, – she got closer to Mark, hugging him slightly, – You made us worry… shitless, – the woman cringed at the word, still holding the kid in one place. He threw his arms around her back in reply, and soon was followed by couple more sets of arms.

– I’m sorry I said that, – the words of apologies were never easy for him, having to force them out instead, – Shouldn’t’ve said it and rushed like that, – he heard an obnoxious tongue clicking right near his ear, making him sigh with relief, – And I’m really sorry I snapped like that at you, – the tongue clicking stopped, and instead he could feel the mischievous smile of Visenya, the words of James still lingering in his head.

The girl pulled away from him, suddenly gaining a whole new interest in something, or rather someone else. And he was really worried he’d have problems communicating with her in future.

– Oh my god, you’ve brought me a new boyfriend, – she gasped, quickly moving toward the half-awake still dazed merc. Meltem sighed at that.

Mark looked all around the room, finding Aspen beside him. The parents were standing a little farther away, watching the drama with obvious amusement. Narandil had already pulled Livaen to her feet, making sure everyone met her properly. Visenya was cooing all around the merc, seemingly interested in him more than in anyone else, then all of a sudden switching her attention to Livaen, calling her yet another girlfriend material, making the old elf issue the brat a light slap on the back of her head.

– Hey, you can let me go, both of you, – the kid patted the hands of his companions, prompting them to release him from their hold, raising off the floor with external help. It was… strange, he thought, that no one has given a damn about what happened… or rather tried to pretend like it never happened. Either way, he was relieved to be back home, his cousin back at his side, again, with nothing else to worry about for now.

#sc_storytime #SC_Mark #SC_JamesDenton #SC_MeltemEsteban #SC_Visenya #SC_NarandilThreadis #SC_Malcolm #FV_Aspen