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jarofstyles · 1 month

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Take Me Higher

Happy 4/20 my lovelies. I just whipped this up quickly so I hope you guys enjoy it 🫣

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WC- 2.5k

Warnings- use of marijuana, high users, switch!H, choking, cum play, etc

Picture is not mine, credits to owner

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The smoke had cleared out of the room but it was a bit cold still from the chill of the night. It wasn’t quite warm enough to be spring in her humble opinion, but she’d take what she could get. Plus, Harry had brought her some food stuff for them and she was feeling the effects kicking in as she felt a weight settle on her body. Her eyes were hooded and she was a little giggly as his scent engulfed her, vanilla and tobacco more prominent than the smell she tried to keep from her place.

“Mm… you’re warm.” A cool nose brushed her throat, making her shiver as the man crawled up her body and rested himself on top of her. Harry always got like this when they smoked, but it seemed even more prominent today.

“And you’re a needy little thing.” Fingers carded through his hair, knocking the beanie off his head as he buried his face in her neck. There was no real response except a whine, breath warm on her skin as he tried to warm himself up. The window had to be opened so they’d not get any real complaints from their flat, but luckily they were sure her neighbor wasn’t home today.

Comfortable silence made her melt further into the sofa, the playlist on low as her eyes fluttered shut and she busied herself with playing with his hair. He’d been a good smoking buddy for a while, but she knew why he really came over. It was only a matter of time.

A large hand slipped under her body, wiggling itself under her top to feel the hot expanse of her back. He couldn’t get close enough, needy little thing, and Y/N was fully enjoying being clung to. Physical touch always made the high even better, but that’s just her opinion. Or maybe it was physical touch was better when high? She didn’t know. Her brain didn’t want to analyze that right this second.

“Did you sleep last night? Tired?” Her voice was soft as she didn’t want to disturb the vibe, twirling a curl around her fingertips.

“No.” He shook his head, seeming like he was trying to get into her skin. “Jus’ want to get close to you. You’re warm and you smell fuckin’ incredible.” His voice was a little bit more hoarse, but that was to be expected. “You’re my favorite person... To smoke with.” He added on to the thought hurriedly but she wasn’t going to call him out on it. Fingers trailed down her spine, making her shudder a little.

“Hm, is that because I let you eat my pussy?” She smirked, feeling him pull his head form her neck with a glare. Sex with him was fantastic. Maybe it was because they were usually blazed when they did it and they both felt the sensitivity that went with it along with a more intense orgasm. He was the only one who could match her drive when she was like this, so he’d easily become a favorite person of her. Though she had a feeling that he’d do it just as well without the smoking bit, that would be something to unpack at a later date.

“Hey… don’t make me sound like a lecher.” He pouted, sending her heart to beat a bit harder. One thing she’d give the man was that he was adorable. “Not the only reason. I love doin’ that but… you have the best snacks n’you let me talk about anything. Your cunt is just a bonus… though I really do love it.” Harry wasn’t usually super shy, but sometimes he got a bit bashful when it came to Y/N. There was a slight hesitation as he let their noses brush, ghosting his lips over hers. “Can I?”

“So sweet for asking.” Y/N cooed, smiling n at his request. He wanted to kiss her. She could taste how bad he wanted it when the high had hit him, but now he wasn’t able to hold back much. “Go ahead, pretty boy. Since you seem to like it so much.”

Harry was a little messy with it, smearing their lips together and grazing his teeth over her bottom lip. There wasn’t much to hide his desperation as he adjusted himself on top of her, pulling one of her legs to wrap around his hip. “I do.” He breathed before licking into her mouth. Her lips were so sweet and soft, tasting like the cola she’d drank and mint chapstick. His favorite thing. Pulling apart with a soft clicking sound, he let out a groan as he looked down at her. Her bun was all messed up with some flyaways, lips wet and eyes hazy. His favorite sight. Seeing he undone when usually she was so put together, knowing he’d been the one to get to see her like this… it did things to his “I really fucking do.”

Y/N whimpered as he devoured her. His tongue hot in her mouth and his hand gripping her thigh to keep her close, she couldn’t help but grow hot when she felt him against her. It wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last, but it still surprised her every time. How had she ever fit that inside of her? Tightening her legs around his hips, she heard the hitch in his breathing before he pulled away from her lips to groan. It gave her a chance to pull her shirt off her body, exposing her tits to him.

Harry nearly whimpered at the sight of them, pressing a bruising kiss to her lips before making his way down. “Fuck, the things you do t’me.” He whispered, moving closer to her breasts. “Can I kiss on them a bit, pretty? It’ll feel good.” He pleaded, sighing against the skin as she nodded at the request.

Sponging kisses all over the swells, he gently rocked his hips into hers to relieve a bit of the ache. His cock was thick and throbbing, desperate for some relief. The hear of her cunt could he felt through her panties, making Harry thank whatever higher power that she’d chosen the big shirt no pants combination today. “Gorgeous. You’re so pretty, all over.” He praised, puckering his lips over a nipple for a kiss. She shivered under him, her grip in his hair getting fuller as he brought it into his mouth.

Y/N sighed in pleasure as his hot mouth suckled on her. She’d loved when he did this last time, licking over her tits while he was inside of her. He was still clothed this time but somehow that was just as hot to her. Panties were ruined regardless, but she arched her back slightly as he took more of her breast into his mouth and rolled his tongue around the nipple. “Oh, shit.” The girl whimpered, rocking her hips in return. The stimulation made her head cloudy, or maybe it was the blunt, but she didn’t really care. It all felt so fucking good, it didn’t matter. “Harry… you’re so nice t’me.” She sighed, watching him pull off with a soft ‘pop’.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s what you deserve, yeah? So nice to me too…” he sighed into her chest, placing wet kisses to the skin that glistened in the light, leaving cool spots once he left. “Let me come over and smoke, let me eat your snacks, kiss your pretty mouth… let me taste you, sometimes let me feel that perfect little pussy wrapped around me… have t’be nice to my girl.”

She didn’t have a chance to answer before he repeated the process with her other nipple, making her pant. The grinding was getting harder, her breathing matching it as he rubbed over her clit in the motions. Back and forth, sweet relief as she spread herself out further and clutched his head to her breast as he worshiped them. “Fuck me, keep going like that and M’gonna cum.” She warned him, though she had no real want of him stopping.

“So cum.” He mumbled into her skin. “Won’t be the last time you do it tonight.” And oh- oh. He sounded so self assured and cocky and it did something to her, a zap of electricity to her tummy as she moaned into the air, clinging to him.

His back was firm under her hands, not stopping herself from sliding them unde this tee shirt. His skin was burning under her palms as she dragged her nails lightly down his shoulder blades. “Harder.” He instructed, rutting into her with more force. “Scratch me. S’okay.” He couldn’t help connecting their mouths again, fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh as it clung to him.

She did as asked, surprising her when he let out a deeper groan than she’d heard before. His hips quickened, sure his gray sweats were ruined but uncaring about anything else. “Gonna make me cum in my joggers.” He panted against her lips, unable to keep himself from touching her. His mouth was a magnet to her body, his cock throbbing and balls feeling exceptionally full as he dry fucked her.

“Mm… here.” She momentarily reached between them and tugged them down far enough that he was out of them. “Cum on my panties.” Her voice rang into his ears. “Already ruined them. Can’t you feel how wet you made me?” And fuck, could he.

Without the sweats in the way he could feel her soaked through panties wetting his prick, the heat of her through the barely there fabric making him insane. Though the real thing that got him was her request. “You really want that?” He questioned, buttoning their lips together for a moment because he simply couldn’t help it. “You want t’be sticky with my load all over your panties and your skin? I’ve got so much for you…” he wasn’t joking either. It had been a bit since they’d hung out and his hand didn’t do him as much justice as she could. His dick desperately missed her.

“You know I don’t mind a mess, Harry.” She purred, moving a hand to wrap around his throat. “And you’ll be a good boy and lick it off my skin, won’t you? Then you’ll lick my pretty pussy until you’re ready to fuck me. Because you’re always such a good boy for me…”

Oh, fuck. Harry whimpered at the feeling of her hand around his throat, the drop of his guilty pleasure nickname, immediately feeling the shift. He was determined to please her before, but this tone of voice and her slight overtaking made him a bit pathetic. “Yes- yeah, M’gonna do it.” He promised, adjusting them slightly so he tip could brush right over her clit. “Anything you want. Want t’make you feel so good. M’good for you.” He nodded, messily kissing her again as he quickened the pace of his thrusts.

Y/N hummed in pleasure as he got them to the right position. His hard cock rutting against her like the fabric wasn’t even there, thick and hot. She loved feeling him, knowing she’d done that to him. Her stomach tightened as she felt the perfect thrust from him, gasping into his mouth. “Oh- yes, like that. Keep it light that, baby.” She pleaded, mouth falling open as he repeated it. “Mhm… there. Gonna cum.” She had been worked up for a little bit now but feeling his need to please her helped her get there.

“Please, please do it. Want you to cum, want you to feel so good… you’re so perfect, please cum for me. Give it to me, fuckin’ goddess….” He spoke to her like he needed her orgasm to breathe. Whimpery and needy and unlike how he usually sounded, but with his perfect angle and the friction against her clit combined with that, she was pushed over the edge.

“Yes- yes, fuck me.” Head falling further back into the cushions, she dug her nails into his back with one hand while the other tightened on his throat. Sparks igniting her nerves and her legs held on to him like a lifeline as she came. Harry never knew a prettier sight in his life than how she looked when he made her orgasm.

“Give me it too, H. Make me a sticky mess so you can clean me.” She gasped out. “You’ve been so good, I know you can give me what I want. Please?” Her voice shook slightly. “Give me what I want.” Giving just the slightest bit more pressure to the fingers on the sides of his throat, she knew exactly how much to press to make him lightheaded. Choking was a weakness of his, something that made him cum embarrassingly fast a lot of the time, but this time he was grateful as he let out a sob. His prick was slick with her and aching to release but he tried to hold back for her sake. With the mix of the high being at its height, the sensitivity overwhelming him and how she knew exactly how to touch him- The moment she called him a good boy and gave him the head rush he needed, he was a fucking goner.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, M’gonna cum-“ he babbled her name as he found his release. Jerking against her, hot ribbons of the pearly cum shot against the covered cunt and over her tummy. His balls pulsed as he unloaded on her, smearing it over himself and her as his hips sloppily worked him through the orgasm. Face slack in rapture, he let out a hoarse groan as the last of it spilled from his tip, hips jerking a few times before he felt her hand fall and his mouth descended on hers again.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, hm?” He slurred, biting her lip with a hum before he lowered his body onto hers. His prick was sensitive but he made no move to pull back, pecking her over and over again as she caressed his cheek with her choking hand. Y/N was by far the best at it regardless, intuition leading her to know exactly what he liked. “Feel like m’fucking floating. Dunno if it’s the high or your cunt.” He snickered, feeling her return the laugh.

“Probably a mix of both.” She smiled, giving him a few kisses of her own. “But we’ve got plenty to keep it going for a while. Are you up for it, pretty boy?” The girl had no plans but to be blazed and fucked for the rest of the night, and she hoped he was on the same page.

“M’up for anything, you fuckin’ goddess.” He mumbled as he sat up on his knees to look at the mess they’d made. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen, her cunt and little thatch of hair visible through the now transparent fabric and splattered with cum on the ruined panties and her tummy. It made his mouth water just looking at it. “Jesus… look at this.” He mumbled, spreading her further open with his hand. “Seems like I’ve got a lot of work to do, don’t I?”

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yandere-wishes · 7 months

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Long ramble anon here, I'm happy you liked my long ask I was just concerned that I put way too much as I have a tendency to hyperfixate snd overexplain, hence the tldr at the end. To be honest ever since seeing the fox beastman I've been on a bit of a kick with theorizing things for him. (Did the same thing with Rollo hehe) Anyway, if you want some more of my takes I'm happy to share.

Alright so you know how beastmen retain some of their animalistic traits? Well my brain immediately goes to what this means for their romantic endeavors and courting behaviors. Not much is known about the courting process for foxes, but we do know that scent marking and loud vocal barking is used to attract a mate. How does this carry over to a humanoid fox? Well, my theory is that he will likely give his darling something like his coat, or spray whatever cologne he uses on their things or use more of it when he knows he's going to see them. As for the loud vocal barking you better believe my mind immediately went to him just belting out a serenade for his darling, regardless of how he actually may sound I think he's self-assured and prideful enough to believe this would definitely entice his soon to be mate.

Another interesting thing about foxes is that they are monogamous to a fault, rarely ever taking another mate after the passing of their partner, instead remaining loyal until their own passing (at least this was what I've read in my admittedly surface level research). To me this means two things, 1) once Fellow sets his eyes on a darling that's absolutely it for him regardless of how he has to get them by his side it is an inevitability so if they would just be a good dear and surrender early on everything could be so much better, and 2) should anything unfortunate befall to his darling he wouldn't ever fall for anyone else and likely never fully recover emotionally.

Tldr; The fox man would woo his darling with his surely illustrious (at least to him) voice and his cologne or perhaps natural pheromones, and once he woos them Fellow would never so much as look at another in the same light.

Don't apologize Anon!! I love it when people send in long asks about their hyperfixations!! It feels so endearing and sweet and makes me want to give you a big hug!! I'm literally the same when it comes to hyperfixate and overexplain, when I'm obsessed with something (TV show, movie, game, etc) I need to feel it in my veins!! Plus being able to chat about it with people on Tumblr is always one of the best parts!!

I can't stop laughing at the thought of Fellow sending his darling with loud obnoxious barking 🤣🤣 Bonus points if the reader is a regular human and just stares at him confused, while Leona, Ruggie, and Jack just nod in approval in the background (or in anger and disbelief, depends on the scenario). The idea of him sharing his cologne and jacket with Reader is actually really sweet. I like to think that some ways down the line if Fellow ever had to go away for an extended period of time. Reader would just cuddle into a corner hugging his jacket and spraying some of his cologne on herself. He'd be so delighted coming home and smelling his scent so strongly on his beloved.

I love this!! Just Fellow knowing that reader is the one from the first look 😍😍😍😍 He's so smitten and lays on the charm extra thick. Wanting them all so badly and doing anything to get them. If Reader should die (Lord forbid) Fellow definitely wouldn't get another partner BUT he'd also go the extra mile and try to resurrect them. Magic exists in Twisted Wonderland so I'm sure someone out there has the ability to raise the dead. He'd do absolutely anything to hold you in his arms again.

Look Reader is getting a really sweet deal here. A tall handsome man (+ bonus he comes with A SUPER FLUFFY TAIL AND EARS) with a smooth voice, and a charming personality. Willing to give her anything, do anything for her, and make sure she had the best life imaginable. He's physically incapable of cheating and would fawn over the reader like a lovestruck puppy. He's literally just perfect!! Ignoring the manipulative tendencies, obsessive behavior, and ability to maim someone with his teeth😊😊

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auspicioustidings · 6 months

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We talk a lot about Ghost teaching Soap. But Soap makes Captain right? So Price teaching Soap? Price teaching Soap how to take care of his ‘belongings’. Price showing Soap how to treat you right? 👀🤷🏻‍♀️ maybe? Maybe not? I dunno 🤷🏻‍♀️

First off read this immediately because it serves these vibes way better than I ever could like truly Bunny is God's gift to thirsty PriceSoap girlies.

I cannot prepare a dish quite as satisfying but here is a short little tease anyway! Sorry I cannot actually write smut rn, I'm ill and pathetic about it.

Affirm

Words: 700

CWs: light bdsm

“Right, the two of you in my office now.”

You bristled. How was it that you were getting into trouble here? This was all stupid Soap's fault. It was him that started it.

The two of you were constantly at each other's throats these days. Wasn't really professional but then you hated that he kept talking down to you. The way the word corporal came out of his damn mouth was always with a smug arrogance that made you want to go for blood.

It wasn't like you bit back during an actual op, you both knew better than that. But he pushed and pushed and pushed whenever you had down time at base and you weren't about to let it go unanswered. Fucking asshole. And now he was getting you into trouble with the Captain? God he was the worst.

“Captain he-”

“Don't want to hear it Corporal.”

“Aye too fucking right, dinnae want te-”

“You can shut the fuck up as well. Pair of absolute muppets.”

Price ripped open one of his desk drawers and produced a bottle of Scotch, pouring himself a glass and sitting in his chair regarding the two of you across the table. Both of you knew you were in for it, standing at attention and keeping your mouths shut while he took a languid sip.

“Cannot believe I've been put in this situation again. Did you know I had Ghost and Gaz standing right where you are now? Before either of you joined. They just couldn't get along.”

That was a surprise. Ghost and Gaz got along just fine now. You couldn't really imagine a world in which they fought the way you and Johnny did. Sure they might have some little arguments, but whenever it happened they would go off and have a chat and come back settled. There was no way you and Johnny being alone would settle anything.

“You know why they get along Sergeant?”

“Gaz kens who's in charge.”

Johnny sounded almost resigned? Something was happening, he knew something you didn't. You hated that, you hated how Price spoke to him as if you weren't even in the room.

“Hm. And who's in charge between the two of you then?”

You felt a shiver run up your spine at how Price said it, his voice in a low purr that spoke to some primal part of your brain. What the fuck? Why did you feel suddenly like this was a dangerous situation? You considered speaking up but could only yelp in surprise when Johnny kicked one of your legs to put you off balance and bent you over the desk.

Your heart was liable to beat itself into an early grave. You looked at your Captain and found he only watched, sipping his drink. You twisted to look at Johnny who was holding both of your wrists in one of his hands.

“I'm in charge. Affirm corporal.”

Oh God, you didn't think you had ever heard Soap with that level of authority in his voice. Only all it made you want was to get him to do it again. You needed him to do it again, to put you in your place.

“Fuck you."

The first smack to your ass was hard enough that you jolted forward and your hip bone smashed into the desk.

“Affirm corporal. Ye ken who's In charge, now say it.”

Oh this was several shades of fucked up but my God if you didn't crave more. You needed it, you needed him to break you into pieces so he could put them back together. You needed the freedom that came with being shattered.

You fought against him until Price finally guided him to be harder with you, to really let you have it. And he had. He had destroyed you fully, left you a boneless raw mess. Then Price had guided him to bring you back.

It settled you. For weeks you and Johnny existed in peace with one another, calm. And when you started to butt heads again? Well, Johnny had learned exactly how to handle that.

#mhairiwrites #cod #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #Price being in charge of teaching someone to dom is something that can actually be something so personal

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chvoswxtch · 2 years

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that Jon con story was 😳😳🫠 my soul woulda left my body on the spot 😮‍💨 tbh I dunno that I could survive being in the same room as him 🫣 but it’s funny cause ✨ hands ✨ was literally my Frankie request

Imagine you’re in a new relationship with Frankie, slowly testing the waters cause who ain’t a bit broken these days

and you got a thing for ✨ hands ✨ and you think you’re being discreet when you stare at his hands while they do pretty much anything BUT Frankie ain’t a dummy and has noticed and wants to test his theory that you really really like his hands

👀🙏🏻🫠😮‍💨

babes it's the way we literally share the same brain cell bc those HANDS, as soon as I saw this request I literally dropped everything and started working on it. thank you for requesting this and inspiring me to thirst over frankie's hands and helping me kick off this week of celebration. ✨ I adore YOU so MUCH. ❤️

warning: contain explicit sexual content. as always, minors please dni. btw the jon con story in reference can be found here. :) word count: 3.1k

everyone say thank you to my sweet angel baby @jwjeepers for this lovely request to start off this week of celebrating my 500 followers friends milestone! happy slutting over frankie! 🖤

don't hold back.

It was subtle at first. You had a habit of zoning out when you vanished into your thoughts, or were concentrating really hard on something. Frank had noticed it very early on. Sometimes you would disappear for a little bit, getting lost in your own stream of consciousness before finding your way back to him. Frank didn’t think much of it. He found it kind of endearing, actually. He always wondered though, what exactly was going through your head when you had that far off look in your eyes. He wondered what you daydreamed about, and where you went when you stared off into space, curious if he ever popped up in any of those scenes.

The first hint was a few weeks ago when you and Frank had met up with some of your friends for drinks. Frank was in the middle of telling a story, animatedly moving his hands around as he did so, when he caught your gaze out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes were following every single movement of his hands. He didn’t think much of it at first, figuring you were probably just trying to paint a clear picture in your head, so he brushed it off. But then he caught you doing it again. And again. And again. Everytime he used his hands to speak, your eyes were glued to them. Throughout the night as the alcohol dulled your inhibitions, you were more reckless with your lingering stares. Frank had even caught the way you trapped your bottom lip between your teeth when he wrapped his fingers around the neck of his beer bottle, and his curiosity peaked.

Your relationship was still very new, both of you trying to figure out how to navigate it as cautiously as possible. He was still healing from another lifetime of pain and loss, a piece of him knowing he always would be. You were hypervigilant with your heart due to your mother being an incurable romantic currently on husband number four. Sometimes he thought it was a marvel you two were even together. Frank never talked more than he had to, and you were more on the shy and quiet side. It had taken Frank just as long to get you to open up to him about your feelings as it had taken you to get him to open up about his. He never imagined he would even want to open his heart up to someone else again, but there was something special about you. Something in your soul that called out to his. He still remembers the day you first met, and the way you had smiled at him. He knew right then he was done for.

He didn’t know what you saw in him. Frank could never fully wrap his head around why the hell out of anyone, and oh you could have fucking have anyone, you chose him. Over and over again, day after day, you chose him. He waited for you to change your mind, break out of whatever trance you were under, and leave him. But you never did. He was constantly torn between wanting to show you his worst to see if you would stay, and wanting to prove to you that he was the man you believed he was so that you would stay.

Frank savored every part of your relationship, taking his time to enjoy every piece of it fully. He never went farther than what he was absolutely sure you were comfortable with. He let you set the pace, always following your lead, worrying that if he got carried away he would fuck everything up. The first time you let him kiss you, he felt dizzy with adoration and his lips tingled for hours afterwards. And the first time you let him make love to you? Frank fucking swore he believed in heaven, because he had found it inside your body. Little by little, your confidence blossomed, and Frank was able to coax more of what you liked out of you to make sure he was always doing everything exactly right. Nothing filled him with more pride than pleasing you.

He didn’t want to push you, or make you uncomfortable, but he was dying to know what you were hiding from him. Everytime he caught you staring at his hands, you would immediately redirect your eyes and blush profusely. Frank thought he had somewhat of an idea of what was going on, so he decided to test out his theory.

Frank used his hands as much as possible over the course of the next few days. If you were struggling to reach something, he would come up behind you and splay his large hand on your lower back, never once missing the way your lips parted and a flush crept onto your cheeks in response. Frank wasn’t a huge fan of PDA, but he made it a point to hold onto your hand every time you went somewhere together, or place his hand just high enough on your thigh to get a silent reaction out of you everytime you sat next to him or rode with him in his truck. He especially loved doing that when you wore dresses or skirts, brushing his calloused fingers along your soft skin in slow strokes. Frank would catch the way your eyes widened slightly, and a devious smirk would curl at the corner of his mouth. He even went as far as getting into a fight with some drunk asshole in a dive bar, cracking his fist roughly against the guy’s jaw, just to come home to let you assess the damage and fix him up. He didn’t need you to, his knuckles were barely even bruised, but he wanted to see the way you would react to getting to examine his hand up close. The hitch in your breath as he held it out for you and the way your eyes swelled with lust as you delicately grazed your fingertips over his angry knuckles had his cock thrashing against his jeans. He had figured you out, and now he just needed to find a way to get you to ask for what he knew you wanted.

Frank had you on his lap, one hand placed firmly on the middle of your back to hold you in place against him, and the other loosely wrapped around your throat as he gently grabbed your jaw in his fingers. He took his time kissing at that sensitive spot at the base of your neck he knew drove you crazy. He figured if he could get you worked up enough, needy and desperate for more, that you would open up and bloom for him. He just needed to guide you there. Frank could practically feel the thundering rhythm of your heart pounding against his own chest. He swallowed every breathless pant that escaped your lips. An impatient whine echoed off your tongue and he grinned. Frank had you exactly where he wanted you.

He purposefully kept his hands still in their places, focusing solely on his gentle assault on your neck with his lips and tongue, occasionally nipping at your collarbone. He could tell you were getting restless by the way your hips started to tenuously rock back and forth, your fingers once loosely threaded in his hair now tugging slightly.

“Frank…please…”

“Please what, darlin’? Hm?”

You huffed in response, earning a throaty chuckle from him, and grabbed a small fistfull of the collar of his shirt to tug him closer, even though there was hardly an inch of space between you two.

“Please.”

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“Want you, Frank.”

“Nah, think you can do better than that. C’mon baby, tell me what you want.”

Frank tried not to laugh at the futile way you attempted to tear his lips away from your neck to bring his face closer to yours, your hips now picking up a more purposeful speed. Patience was not your virtue, and he knew it wouldn’t take much more teasing until you broke. He would wait.

“Fraaaaank. Please, I told you. I want you.”

“I think you’re lyin’ to me, baby.”

Frank pulled back just slightly to look into your eyes, taking in the furrow of confusion in your brows and the adorable pout on your lips. He tightened his hold on your throat, your chin firmly grasped between his thumb and index finger. He reveled in the way your eyes grew in bewilderment, and your hips stuttered to a stop.

“I think you want somethin’ in particular, but you’re too shy to ask. Yeah?”

Your lips parted slightly as a shuddering breath slipped past, and Frank took the opportunity to swipe the pad of his thumb deliberately across your bottom lip. Your hand flew up to grab onto his forearm, gripping onto it tightly. He stared at you silently for a second, searching your eyes for any hesitation. You gave his arm a gentle squeeze and he took that as a signal to experimentally push his thumb past your plump lips. You greedily accepted it in your mouth, closing your eyes for a moment as you swirled your tongue around it and sucked softly, even giving the tip a gentle bite. A small grunt sounded in the back of his throat and Frank found himself pathetically rock hard beneath you.

He swiftly retracted his thumb from your mouth with a pop, a twinge of embarrassment sparking in him that if he let you keep doing that, he’d no doubt come on the spot. Both of you stared at each other for a moment in silent astonishment. Frank cocked his head to the side slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye as that familiar cocky smirk appeared on his lips.

“Ain’t feelin’ so shy now, are ya?”

You bit down on your bottom lip hard, unable to tear your eyes away from Frank’s relentless stare. It made you feel even smaller than you already did with him. He clicked his tongue against his cheek, shaking his head slowly as his thumb pulled your bottom lip free from your teeth.

“Uh uh. If you’re feelin’ brave enough to take my thumb in your mouth like you do my cock, then you can be a big girl and use your words, yeah? You gonna tell me what you want now, sweetheart?”

Frank’s shameless words shot straight down to your core and you couldn’t stifle the pitiful whine that sounded from you. You closed your eyes for a moment to regain your composure, far too turned on to even be embarrassed that Frank had caught on to you. You weren’t sure why you even would be embarrassed. Frank always gave you everything you asked for without hesitation. But sex between the two of you so far had been gentle and loving, not that you didn’t adore or enjoy that, but you weren’t sure how to tell him that you wanted more. You weren’t sure what he would think of you if you told him what you really wanted him to do to you.

“Your hands.”

“What about ‘em, baby?”

“I think you kinda already know.”

“I do. Wanna hear you say it though.”

The smug grin on his mouth had you whining in agitation. It was no use putting up a fight. Frank wasn’t going to give up until you gave in, and his willpower was much stronger than yours. Swallowing your pride, you stared directly into his deep brown eyes, a wicked idea forming in your head. If he was going to play this game, so could you.

“I love your hands, Frank. I love how big they are, how long your fingers are. I know they can reach so much deeper than mine can. Your fingers could get me to come so much faster than mine ever could. I love the way it feels when you touch me. I want you to touch me more, Frank. I want you to grab me and not be afraid to leave marks. I want you to squeeze my throat when you fuck me. I want-”

Frank didn’t give you a chance to finish before he was pulling you in by your throat and crashing his lips onto yours. His other hand was already bunching your dress up around your hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties until his thumb found your clit. You moaned into his mouth and Frank had to channel all his self-control into not combusting right then and there because you were already so wet. He had never heard you talk like that but fuck did he want to hear more of it. He always felt like you were holding back with him, maybe just as much as he was with you, and he’d be damned if he let this side of you slip back into the shadows again.

One of his long fingers slipped easily into your entrance and he broke apart from your lips just in time to watch the way your face contorted in pleasure as a sigh of content filled the space between you. Frank was mesmerized by you, eyes fixated solely on your face as he began to fuck you slowly with his finger, his thumb grazing over your clit gently. You were practically begging for more already, breathless whimpers and pleas tumbling from your lips, your nails digging into his shoulder blades when he granted your request and pushed another finger past your entrance. Frank glanced down in awe to watch the way you moved your hips against his hand, wanting so badly for it to be his cock instead. He decided right then and there you were going to ride him for the first time tonight. You were so close to the edge already just from his fingers, and Frank’s ego soared at seeing how much of an effect he had on you.

“This what you wanted baby, hm? Just wanted me to fuck you with my fingers?”

“Yes Frank…God, please…don’t stop.”

“All you had to do was ask darlin’, you know I’d never say no to you. You know how much I love makin’ my pretty girl happy, don’t you?”

You couldn’t focus on anything other than the way Frank was plunging his fingers into you repeatedly, the sounds of your wetness squelching around his fingers quickly filling the living room. The faster you rocked your hips, the more brutal his pace became, and you loved it. You nodded your head quickly at his words, feeling dizzy at the way he said my pretty girl.

“You gonna tell me what you want from now on so I can give it to ya, hm? Give you whatever you want baby, just gotta ask. Or hell, you ain’t even gotta ask. You just take my hand and guide it where ya need it. If that’s what you want, you take it. You want my cock, take it. You take whatever the hell you want. It’s all yours, understand? You take what’s yours, yeah?”

All you could do was moan in response. Between Frank’s dangerously gruff voice and indelicate words, and the way he was curling his fingers and brushing along that spongy spot inside you that had you doubling over in indulgence, you couldn’t form any other word but his name.

“Attagirl. You gonna come for me now, sweetheart? Hm? Gonna soak my hand? Yeah you are, I can feel it. Look at you, already making a mess on my lap and you ain’t even there yet. Go on baby, come on my fingers. Don’t hold back, let me have it all, yeah? Go on, make a mess on me. Let me fuckin’ have it.”

A tsunami of rapture collided so hard into you that it knocked the breath completely out of your chest. You collapsed against Frank, barely able to hold yourself up on his lap as you meagerly tried to ride out the wave of pleasure. Frank’s deft fingers continued to work you over, wringing every single drop of pure bliss from you until he was certain there wasn’t an ounce of satisfaction he had missed. He wrapped his arm tightly around your waist to hold you against him, brushing his lips along the shell of your ear as he encouraged you through your orgasm.

“That’s it, there we go. That’s my girl. That’s my fuckin’ girl. Make me so proud baby, so fuckin’ proud. I got you, sweetheart.”

After a few minutes, you were finally able to get your breathing under control, your vision becoming less and less fuzzy as you fully regained coherency. Frank gazed down at you lovingly, brushing your hair away from your face and tucking a strand of it behind your ear. You blinked a few times as he came into focus, staring into his deep mahogany eyes. You blushed at the look he was giving you, a cheeky grin coupled with a quizzically arched brow.

“So, my girl’s a little kinky, hm? You been holdin’ back on me this whole time?”

You couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles, hiding your face into Frank’s chest to escape his taunting stare.

“I was nervous!”

“What the hell for? You think I wouldn’t like it or somethin’?”

“I didn’t know. You’re always so…gentle with me. You always take it slow, and touch me like I’m made of glass. Not that I mind that, I don’t at all. I like when you’re sweet to me. I just…I guess I wasn’t sure what you wanted, or what you would think of me if I told you what else I liked.”

Frank gently grabbed at your throat, holding your face in his fingers so that you couldn’t look away. There was a timid smile on his lips and an uncertain vulnerability floating around in his eyes.

“Baby, I take it slow because I don’t wanna push you. I never wanna do anythin’ that makes you uncomfortable. I’ve been lettin’ you call the shots this whole time, decidin’ what we do and when we do it, followin’ your lead, ya know? Look I…I just don’t wanna fuck this up. That’s all.”

“What if I don’t wanna call the shots? What if I want you to?”

Frank sucked in a deep breath at your words, unable to ignore the way they made his cock twitch in his jeans.

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

“It is.”

“But-”

“Frank, I trust you, and I can take a lot more than you give me credit for. If I feel like I can’t handle something or don’t like it, I’ll tell you, and I trust that you’ll respect that. I promise I won’t hold back anymore if you don’t.”

“Alright, sweetheart. You got yourself a deal.”

#frank castle #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fic #frank castle request #the punisher #the punisher smut #the punisher fic #the punisher request

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pianokantzart · 8 months

Text

The Line of Fire

Luigi seems to be the only one who notices that the "Mario" wandering around The Mushroom Kingdom isn't really Mario. To make things worse, whoever the imposter is seems fully aware of Luigi's position, and is intent on doing whatever is necessary to threaten him into silence.

Another work based on the body swap concept from @elitadream. It has a firm grip on my brain and won't let go. Take care to check the tags for trigger warnings!

Word Count: 4307

Also available on Ao3: X

____________

It was late in the afternoon when Luigi finally made it home. He tried to look natural as he walked up the front steps of his little cottage on the outskirts of town, carrying a large bag of groceries in each arm, squeezing them tightly to himself every time his sensitive nerves picked up in the slightest little rustle of the grass or shadow cast by the clouds overhead. Glancing nervously over each shoulder he stepped to the front door, then– like a nervous animal– rushed across the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him.

In the familiar confines of his house, he felt no safer. He hurried into the kitchen and tried to ease himself with his usual tasks of putting away groceries and sweeping the floors, but it was no good. Whenever he successfully buried his fear, an equally powerful sense of guilt took its place. Here he was, going about his business like usual, as though his brother’s location and well-being weren’t a morbid mystery. Like something cruel and terrible hadn’t stolen him away and taken his place… Luigi set the broom aside and rubbed his temples, trying to think of what more he could do that he had not already done. What attempt he could make that wouldn’t jeopardize innocent lives? It was crucial to tread carefully, but it didn’t help that he barely even understood what was going on in the first place.

This thing that had taken his brother’s place… the “Not-Mario” he had come to call it… was, from what he could tell, a near-perfect imitation of his brother in appearance and abilities. Luigi had a few theories: some sort of shapeshifter, a facsimile created from magic, or something had stolen Mario’s body directly, and was now puppeting it for their own devices. He suspected the latter and was half-certain of the culprit. There was a startling familiarity to that hellish glint in what used to be his brother’s eyes, but he didn’t dare yet call the thing masquerading as Mario “Bowser.” It felt far too early to make assumptions. He only knew a few things for certain: Mario was in terrible trouble, there was something pretending to be Mario, the Not-Mario knew that he knew the truth, and nobody else seemed to see through the ruse. The doppelganger had assured him that the real Mario was still alive. It was implied in equal measure that Mario’s survival would be determined by whether or not the truth got out. He also threatened Princess Peach, the neighboring toads, and everyone else he could use as leverage, knowing Luigi had no desire to test whether or not he was bluffing.

Uncertainty and doubt knotted Luigi’s heart, endless questions eating away at him when he was steadily pulled from his thoughts by a spot of red appearing in the corner of his eye.

He turned and let out a yelp of surprise. There stood Mario’s body, void of Mario’s spirit, leaning against the doorway of their kitchen, glaring at him with those strange eyes. When did he come in? How long had he been in here? Why had he come here?

Throughout this entire ordeal, one of the few kindnesses Not-Mario had granted him was staying away from their home. This was a selfish comfort, of course, “Mario”’s absence merely meant that he was too busy doing who-knows-what elsewhere. Luigi nervously reexamined his brother’s face, hoping to find some faint glimmer of the man he’d grown up with, but if anything it had only gotten stranger since he had last seen it… sunken and tired, like he hadn’t slept at all.

Before Luigi could ask, Mario’s voice interrupted with a simple command: “Living room. Now.” “What?… Why can’t we talk here?” Not-Mario gave no response, he simply walked off, leaving Luigi feeling stupid for so much as posing the question. Of course not. Where they talked was not the point, the point was establishing at every opportunity who was in control.

Luigi anxiously stepped into the living room, and at once found himself being approached aggressively by his brother’s body, boxing him toward the back of the room where a couch and an easy chair sat in a small half-circle around a television set. “Where were you today?” Not-Mario Growled. Luigi braced himself against the arm of the couch. “I went to the marketplace. You know, to get groceries?” Not-Mario was unswayed. “Where else?”

Luigi gripped his arm and averted his eyes. No way. He was certain he’d been careful. He’d made sure he wasn’t followed. He knew the toad he handed the letter to, made him promise to keep it a secret. He’d done everything right! “N-nowhere else! I mean, I did take a little walk before making my way home.” “A walk? Did your little detour happen to bring you near Peach’s castle?” Luigi felt his heart drop as Not-Mario pulled a familiar envelope from his overall pocket. He held it up and stared daggers; a taunting, hateful grin spreading across his face. “It’s embarrassing, really. Don’t you know the palace guards have better things to do than deliver your mail for you?…”

On impulse, Luigi lept to snatch the envelope, but his opponent proved too quick, immediately catching him by the shirt collar and thrusting him backward, sending him toppling over into his old recliner with such force that he could feel the chair springs snap under him. “Sit down .” The demand was sharp and booming, the undercurrent of rage Not-Mario had carried with him since he first appeared bubbling to the surface. Luigi stayed seated, watching with held breath and a pounding heart as the thing with his brother's face tore open the sealed envelope, and read aloud the letter enclosed:

“Princess Peach, I hope this letter finds you well. I would like nothing more than to explain the situation in person, but I am in no position to do so without endangering your safety. Be wary of Mario, he is not who he seems to be. Keep one eye open at all times, and take care you aren’t left alone under any circumstances. I will do my best to find out what’s happening. I’ll contact you again once I have a better grasp of what to do. Until then, for the sake of The Mushroom Kingdom, remain vigilant.

Dutifully yours, – Luigi”

As he finished reading the letter, he turned his focus to the author, gauging his response. Luigi stayed where he was, putting on a poor performance of remaining calm as sweat trickled down his face and his chest pounded.

Not-Mario sighed and tucked the letter back into the envelope.

“You should be thankful this never made it into Peach’s hands. The moment she starts getting suspicious, I’ll have to start taking drastic measures.”

“H-how did you get that?” Luigi finally managed, clutching his knees in an attempt to hide the way his hands shook.

“You gambled the lives of your loved ones so you can play ‘hero,’ and you think you’re in a position to ask questions?”

With a flick of the wrist, the man in red ignited firebrand and rendered the envelope to ashes. Luigi watched the pieces scatter across the living room, catching one of them in his hands as though a part of him hoped his failed attempt to find help could be somehow pieced back together. “You know,” Mario’s voice continued, “there’s a rumor that you’re in the middle of some sort of nervous breakdown. Though I suppose it was only a matter of time… you aren’t exactly known for your mental fortitude, and your recent head injury hasn’t helped things either.”

“Head injury?” Luigi barely managed the question when saw Mario’s form rushing toward him, hardly giving him time to even register what was happening before a gloved hand gripped his face with enough force to rattle his teeth, tore him from his seat, and threw him across the room with unprecedented power. Luigi’s body crashed like a rag doll into the TV set, his back bruising on the edge of the console, his skull shattering the screen. He lay there for a moment on the heap of cracked wood and glass, struggling to lift himself up, the world spinning around him as his vision turned white with pain. A laugh filled the air, such a horrible laugh, clashing with a voice of warm familiarity to create something grotesque and alien. “Nobody in this kingdom believes in you. Your only redeeming quality is that you live under the same roof as I do.” It sneered. “Tell me, do you ever wonder how often Mario took solace in your little neighbors? Finally able to speak plainly about how hard it is being followed around by his quivering imbecile of a brother?” Luigi didn’t answer. His sibling’s stolen voice was laced with poison, but he refused to swallow. He owed Mario at least that small dignity. The voice prattled on. “We seem to be on pretty cozy terms… I’ve apparently earned their unwavering faith. That is not something I intend to squander.” These words made Luigi’s blood run cold. He scrambled to a standing position despite the pain that still rattled his skull. Seeing Mario’s body walking toward the exit, he called out. “What are you going to do?” The question was ignored, and all at once Luigi felt more terrified of seeing the imposter leave than he was of his presence. If this was Bowser, as he suspected, surely a minor concussion wouldn’t be the only consequence of his attempt to seek help. What of the toad guard he had given the letter to? What of the princess herself? What about The Mushroom Kingdom, too safe and cozy to even install locks on their doors? blissfully unaware of the monster that wandered amongst them?

“Wait!” Luigi called again, taking a few stumbling steps after the body of his brother. “I need to know you won’t hurt anyone!”

At this, Not-Mario stopped just short of gripping the handle and turned to Luigi with his brows raised. “First you demand answers, now you want me to make promises?”

“Yes! Swear you won’t hurt anyone. Otherwise, I’ll… I’ll…” Luigi stumbled over his words. He wrung his hands and swallowed a lump in his throat, gathering together what little courage he could scrounge from the growing pit in his stomach. What would Mario do? What would Mario do? Pull yourself together, do what Mario would do! He released a heavy breath as he sank into a fighting stance, a crackle of electricity rolling along the fingers of his gloves, the hair beneath his cap fluttering with static. “... I’ll… I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone.”

It was a wild gambit, but all he wished to do was relay a message. Yes, he was weak, yes, he was terrified, but he was just strong enough and brave enough to get in the way. There was still one hero left in The Mushroom Kingdom, and whoever this imposter was, he couldn’t just wander around and do whatever he wished.

This time, Luigi was prepared when Not-Mario rushed at him, and he met the attack with a blast of bright blue electricity.

He had no intention of causing serious damage– if this was his brother’s body, he was going to need it back in the best condition possible– but he did hope to incapacitate him. If luck was on his side, perhaps he could get enough of an upper hand to restrain him. Then what? He didn’t know if any of the toads would believe him, but perhaps if he could just get Princess Peach to see the imposter– ask him questions, look into his eyes, confirm for the sake of everyone that he wasn’t Mario– they could figure out a plan to get the real Mario back! Mario’s body seized up under the shock but didn’t fall, and though the muscles of his face stiffened his expression showed no hint of pain. Barely perturbed, he barreled into Luigi with full force, knocking him flat on his back. Before Luigi could recover he felt the full weight of the man bearing down on top of him, and two large powerful hands wrapped tightly around his throat. Mario was strong, stronger than Luigi remembered, which was certainly saying something. Luigi knew his brother always held back whenever they sparred– fun, playful fights meant to do nothing more than hone their skills– but the strength he possessed now almost didn’t make sense. It felt more akin to the motions of an unwavering machine than that of a man. It pushed forward with reckless abandon, shrugging off Luigi’s struggles and blows with the resilience of a brick wall. Gasping for air, Luigi sent another charge into Mario’s body, feeling the current surge through his arms back into his own throat, and yet these efforts only seemed to tighten the grip around his windpipe. As the seconds ticked on with agonizing slowness, his struggles became more mindless and desperate as his mind clouded, his vision darkening, the electricity flashing from his hands fading into faint sparks as the adrenaline of battle turned into an animalistic fight for consciousness.

He didn’t want to die here. Luigi was not ignorant of his own mortality, but he wanted to go out in a way that would’ve made Mario proud. If he had only successfully delivered the letter, had alerted the citizens of what was happening… even just put up enough of a fight to put the doppelganger in his place… he wanted to have gone down doing something– anything of use. He’d failed at every turn, and now he was going to die, strangled to death by the very hands that carried him when he was injured, held him close when he was scared, and dragged him repeatedly out of the jaws of danger. Luigi’s last coherent thought was a prayer that Mario would be okay, before every sensation thinned out into nothingness, and the whole world turned black.

“Well, that was a waste of my time .”

Bowser let out a tired huff as he looked down at the unconscious body of his enemy’s brother. Luigi lay perfectly still, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest, his bruised throat making a slight wheezing sound with every inhale and exhale. Satisfied that his opponent was down for the count, Bowser took the time to examine the damage that had been done to his own body. Pulling up his sleeves he found red burns, shaped like tree branches, stretching along his forearms up to his shoulders. Bowser flexed his limbs, confirming they worked the same as usual, though he knew they would likely hurt a great deal if he was in a position to feel pain. He was thankful the markings didn’t extend any further than they did. So long as he wore his usual long-sleeved shirt, nobody would see the injuries or ask questions. He rolled his sleeves back up and knelt beside Luigi, paying especially close attention to the darkening marks appearing along his throat. He felt a powerful urge to once again wrap his hands around that scrawny little neck and finish the job, not because of the threat he posed, or the insolence he had displayed, but the idea of delivering the corpse to the real Mario… seeing the look on his face… was just too delicious not to revel in. But no, right now the threat Luigi posed to his plans did not compare with the suspicion it’d elicit if he disappeared. Despite Bowser’s claims, the surrounding Toads were already inquiring about Luigi’s absence and well-being. Just today, a wrinkled old codger named Enoki approached him to ask whether Luigi would be able to play cards with him that weekend. Bowser had done his best to imitate Mario’s intonations when he explained Luigi was “not feeling well” with feigned concern, so forced he felt on the verge of biting off his own tongue. Thankfully, Enoki bought the claim wholeheartedly, and even gave him a bag of loose-leaf tea to take home “for his brother's nerves.” Bowser accepted with a feigned thankfulness and threw the gift into the nearest garbage once he was out of the old man’s line of sight.

At length, Luigi’s eyes fluttered open. Seeing his brother’s form standing over him, his gaze widened. He shuddered under a fresh wave of fear, and little bolts of electricity sparked across his skin. Bowser huffed. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’re not dead?” Luigi didn’t speak. He clutched his throat with one hand and tried to push himself upright with the other, head lowered and eyes shut in apparent expectation of another attack.

“Don’t be so paranoid,” Bowser continued “You’d be far more of an inconvenience dead than alive. A nobody creates far less stir than the corpse of a nobody. But you did just try to attack me. What do you think I should do about that?”

Again, Luigi said nothing. While Bowser had initially enjoyed his fear-stricken silence, it began to feel more like defiance than submission. Seeing the plumber attempt to get to his feet, Bowser knocked the hat from his head with a sharp kick to the back of his skull and grabbed a fistful of hair. Forgetting his own shortness of stature, Bowser tried to lift Luigi all the way off the ground by his scalp. When all he could manage was to drag him halfway to his knees, he chose instead to twist his head at a purposefully painful angle.

“Answer me.” Luigi winced. His lip quivered as though he was trying to say something, but all that he managed was a pathetic squeak. Bowser leaned in closer to his “brother,” his lips unsettlingly close to his ear as he asked in a low growl: “Maybe if you’re so intent on imitating your sibling, I should bring you a little piece of him for inspiration? A few fingers, perhaps? Or better yet, one of his eyes…” This was a bluff, of course. The real Mario was imprisoned deep within The Darklands, chained up inside the hulking body Bowser used to inhabit. Though the thought of carrying out the threat was tantalizing, there could come a point where he’d need his old body back, and if Mario felt as disconnected from that body as he felt in this one, then mutilating him would be a waste. But Luigi didn’t know that. That was made clear by his reaction.

“No!” A hoarse plea finally burst from the man’s mouth. He clasped the hand that gripped his hair to ease the pain but didn’t dare struggle beyond that. “Please don’t! I’m sorry.”

Bowser tugged Luigi’s head back to better examine his face. Tears were already forming in his eyes, pouring down his cheeks. Disgusting. He’d forgotten this one was a cryer. It was easy to forget, for he had never known anyone of worth who cried. Junior was an exception, of course, but he was a still child– new to the world and his own emotions. Luigi was a grown man, a hero, allegedly, and yet he whimpered and sniffled as though it would garner any sort of pity. “You’re what?” Bowser growled. “Say that again.” “I’m sor-”

Bowser interrupted the second attempt at an apology by slamming his knee into Luigi’s stomach. He released him then, allowing him to crumble back to the floor at his feet. “Huh, I didn’t quite hear that. Say it again.”

Luigi’s whole body shivered, trying its best to cling to consciousness in its renewed struggle for air. “I’m… s-sorry.”

“Again. Louder.”

“I’m sorry!” Luigi’s voice steadily rose in pitch and volume as his breath returned to him, the tears in his throat and the bruises on his windpipe cracking his speech. “I’m sorry!”

The shrieky tone elicited a chuckle of genuine amusement from Bowser. After the stress of masquerading in his hated enemy's body for so long, seeing someone regard him with the fear and deference he deserved was a long-awaited bit of gratification. Taking advantage of the situation, Bowser made a little game of seeing how many times he could elicit an apology, and, of course, a crucial element of the fun was seeing to it Luigi stayed on the floor at his feet. Whenever the plumber tried to stand or crawl away, a sharp kick to the ribs or a stomp planted into the square of his back would send him back down to the ground.

But by “I’m sorry” number fifty-eight, Bowser grew bored.

So, with confident idleness, he abandoned Luigi in order to look around his nemesis’ home in search of fresh inspiration for what was to be done. Funny as the groveling was, there was a chance Luigi’s change of behavior wouldn’t last long. He didn’t trust him not to delude himself into attempting another “heroic” stunt once left to his own devices. It was crucial to get the message through. It didn’t take long for Bowser to find the staircase. The upper story was a bigger disappointment than the lower one, made up of only a shared bedroom and a bathroom, connected by a narrow hallway. Their cottage as a whole was far too small and simple for his liking, even when he was as physically diminutive as Mario. After all he had done for The Mushroom Kingdom, he should’ve at least been granted a small castle of his own.

Bowser entered the bedroom and looked around, wondering if there was anything there of value or information to be gleaned. No good, everything was trivial: comics and fantasy novels on the shelf, posters for small local bands hanging on the wall, multiple pairs of the same stupid overalls hanging in the closet. Atop the little table between matching red and green beds, there were a number of paper crafts. They were shoddily made… no doubt gifts by the local children. In a moment of impulse, Bowser ignited firebrand and released a little red flame to crawl across the corner of one of the paper stars. Finding a strange comfort in the sight, he allowed the fire to steadily spread to the other origami structures, and when its light began to fade he reinvigorated it with the flick of his hand. He ignited two more fires for good measure, one on the corner of Mario’s bed, another on the corner of Luigi’s, where the flames eagerly climbed up the downy quilts, swallowing the vibrant colors and filling the air with smoke.

He neither noticed nor cared when Luigi raced up the stairs. By the time the man in green had arrived, the fire had spread to the walls and the carpet, the rising flames painting little black spots on the ceiling.

“Looks like I was a little careless.” Bowser shrugged, watching the room burn with perfect calmness, “you may want to do something about this if you want to save your house.” Once Luigi overcame the paralysis of horror and disbelief, he disappeared back down the stairs. He was only gone for a few moments before he returned, armed with a fire extinguisher. Bowser stepped aside, allowing him to dive into the room and spray it down with a thick layer of white foam. When the smoke cleared and the heat died down, Bowser got a better look at his handiwork. The framework of the house still stood strong, but there was not a thing in the bedroom that the fire hadn’t marred, the vibrant reds and greens dulled and charred from the blaze, every furnishing and appurtenance disfigured. In the middle of it all was Luigi, holding the now empty fire extinguisher. He was making a valiant attempt to hide that he was crying again, harder than before, wiping at his face with his sleeve, airborne ash mingling with his tears, streaking his cheeks with soot. Bowser rolled his eyes. “I suppose you’d better get to work fixing this. Given your mental state, a project this big should help you occupy your troubled mind.” He nudged Luigi’s shoulder with a mocking friendliness, reveling in the way he tensed beneath his hand. “It’s probably best that you stay at home, anyway. And you will be staying home from now on, right?”

Luigi’s arms tightened around the fire extinguisher. Bowser readied himself, just in case the plumber suffered another flash of impulsive bravery and tried to swing it at him. But Luigi pulled no such stunt… he simply lowered his head and nodded.

Satisfied, Bowser left without another word. Heading down the stairs and crossing through the shattered remains of the living room, he shut the door firmly behind him before he hurried down the steps of “his” home, and headed back down the road toward the glimmering pink castle in the distance.

The first order of business would be to go into town and make sure whatever toads had seen the smoke were reassured that everything was under control; that the fire didn’t do much damage, and was “more smoke than flames.” Then, he would meet with the squadron of Koopas he had successfully snuck behind the palace walls. After exchanging intel, he would select a few to watch the outside of Mario’s house and ensure Luigi honored the agreement.

Halfway back to his destination, Bowser rolled up his sleeves slightly to reexamine the electric burns on his arms. He frowned, wondering if he had been too lenient. Luigi was no Mario, but the fact that he tried defying him at all was worthy of concern. Bowser decided then that at the next hint of insolence, the very slightest sign of defiance, Luigi would officially no longer be worth the trouble of keeping around.

In the meantime, however, he was at the very least entertaining.

#Super Mario Brothers #Bowser #Luigi #Strangulation TW #My Writing #tw: strangulation #tw: abuse #tw: violence #again... not my au. Not my rules. Just my two cents on how the situation could go down

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 11 months

Text

Clandestine. Part Three.

It's better this way. At least, that's what you're telling yourself.

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Female!Roy Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - cursing. allusions to smut. angst. mention of death. quick mention of drug use.

Author's Note - it's here, you guys. part three !! thank you so much for all of the continued love on this series, it makes me so happy. there'll definitely be at least a couple more parts after this one, so don't worry!! i'm a sucker for a happy ending ;)

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Part One. Part Two. Series Masterlist.

Main Masterlist. Inbox.

"-and I know it's a fuckin' tough challenge, but I think we can do it. We've got people on our side, and I got a call from Lawrence this morning - I'm gonna see if I can convince him. So, we definitely need you in that fuckin' meeting."

Silence.

"Are you even fucking listening to me? Hello?"

"... What?"

"I said, we need you at the Board Meeting this afternoon. Kendall made me promise I'd show up with you."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Roman looks you up and down carefully, brows quirked in curiosity.

"The fuck is going on with you? You've been super weird these last couple of weeks."

That confirms your suspicions that Kendall hasn't told anyone about that day at Stewy's apartment. You were wondering if he had, nervously trying to play detective around your siblings.

"I'm just... tired. I'm fine. Don't worry about me, okay?"

Roman doesn't look convinced, but nods anyway.

"Just... you know, I, uh - I'm... I'm here. If you need me. You know that, don't you?"

You smile softly at his awful attempt at affection.

"I know, Rome. Thank you."

"Come on," he says, jumping from his chair. "We better get to that meeting early, Ken wants to talk strategy."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're sitting silently, heels kicked off, curled up in an expensive leather chair. Kendall and Roman are talking business, the complex jargon going straight over your head. You're in a world of your own, completely detached from your current reality, when you hear it.

Rome says it off hand, not thinking anything of it. You watch as Kendall flinches ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. Your throat tightens, your heart kicks up in your chest. Then, he says it again.

His name.

Stewy.

"I know if you push him the right way, Ken, Stewy is fully on board. We got him, I know we do."

Stewy.

Stewy, Stewy, Stewy.

The word plays on repeat in your mind, like a stuck record. Kendall's eyes flick to you, as if to gauge your reaction, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. You haven't spoke since your argument, deciding that the silent treatment was the best course of action. You know it's torture for Kendall, but you're both stubborn. Neither of you is willing to back down first.

"Uh - yeah, yeah, I, uh, I think, maybe. I think maybe he is. I don't, uh, I don't know."

Rome is oblivious to Kendall's reluctance to speak on the subject, clearly.

"Well, can you fuckin' talk to him? You know you're like the only person in Waystar he'll listen to."

Kendall's eyes are darting between you and Roman frantically. You can read him like a book.

"Yeah, I'll, uh, sure. I'll talk to him."

You scoff under your breath, but he hears it.

"You got something to fuckin' say, Princess? Huh?"

Princess. You haven't heard that one in a while. Your childhood nickname. It started off as a sweet endearment, but now, it's thrown in your face when the boys want to get under your skin.

"Fuck you, Kendall," you bite.

"Uh... Did I miss something?"

"Fuck off, Roman," you and Ken say simultaneously.

Any other day, you'd laugh about saying the same thing at the same time. You'd joke about how in sync you are, how you share one brain. Now, it just makes you infinitely sadder.

You're about to make another sarcastic remark when Sandi and Sandy enter the room, cutting the moment short. You're not sure if you're grateful or spiteful.

One by one, the Waystar Board members file in, taking their seats at the table. You're holding your breath, sitting at the edge of your chair, waiting for the inevitable. You can predict it now, the way you're going to feel when he walks in - chest tight, lungs knotted, fists clenched.

Stewy walks in, and the opposite happens.

You exhale your held breath, and relax slightly. The tension leaves your shoulders for a moment, your lip gets released from in between your teeth. It's like seeing him has cured you, even temporarily. As if he's your own brand of medicine, your personalised prescription.

His eyes catch yours, and you have a silent conversation. So much is said in such a short time.

Hi. Hi. Are you okay? No, are you? No. Not at all.

The room is oblivious to this emotional exchange - except for your older brother. Kendall watches your every move like a hawk. He's trying to figure out if the two of you are still together, still sneaking around behind his back. You haven't spoken to him since he stormed out of Stewy's apartment, meaning he has no idea about the events that occurred after his departure.

The meeting goes off as usual, full of tension and sniped remarks. You don't listen to a word anyone says, too focused on keeping your attention away from Stewy across the table. You're determined not to look at him. You know that if you do, he'll see right through you. He'll know how you really feel. And that is something you're not at all prepared for.

"Okay, well, if no one else has anything they'd like to cover, I think we're done here. Meeting adjourned."

Everyone rises from their places, shaking hands and having quick discussions before leaving through the tall glass doors. You stay put, in no rush to exit. Kendall approaches Stewy, and you watch the exchange with a clenched jaw.

"Hey, uh... can we, like, talk, maybe? I think, yeah, I think we should talk."

Stewy takes a long, hard look at Kendall, before chuckling humourlessly.

"I've got nothing to say to you, man."

Your brother stays stuck in his place, staring at the floor beneath him. As Stewy leaves, he can't resist running his fingers across your shoulders gently. You look back at him, but he's already gone.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Home doesn't feel like home anymore.

Everywhere you look, you're reminded of Stewy.

You're in the kitchen, and all you can think about is the time the two of you slow danced in the middle of the night, slipping and sliding on the tiled floor. There's a half finished bottle of wine on the counter, abandoned in favour of gliding around the room in your socks. Stewy clicks on some low, jazzy music, and pulls you into his arms. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the bathroom, and you can't stop thinking about when the two of you took a bubble bath together, lavender scented steam filling the air. Your back is pressed to Stewy's chest, sitting in between his legs as he massages the shampoo into your hair. He's humming softly, a song his Mother used to sing when he was a child. There's not an ounce of tension in either of your bodies. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the living room, and you can't avoid the memories of curling up with Stewy on the couch. He always lets you pick the movie - sarcastically rolling his eyes at your choices, but never protesting. You sit there for hours, bodies tangled together like two pieces of the same puzzle. You feel like you finally belong somewhere.

You're in the bedroom, and you can't stop picturing the way that Stewy would take you apart and put you back together again. Before him, all of the sex you had was quick, transactional, impersonal. But it was different with Stewy. With Stewy, it felt like you had all the time in the world. It was tender, loving, connected. He genuinely cared about your pleasure - learning your body inch by inch, memorising it like a sculptor. You allowed yourself, for the first time ever, to let go. You put your soul in his hands with full faith. Lying there, limbs intertwined beneath the soft sheets, there was no doubt in your mind. You belonged somewhere.

And now that safe place is gone.

Home doesn't feel like home anymore, and it's all because of him. You could move at the drop of a hat, find a new apartment tomorrow if you wanted. But you can't. You can't leave all of these memories behind. As painful as they are, they're all you have.

You turn on the TV, and flick to ATN News. They're running a story on a young baseball player that tragically died in a car wreck, aged twenty four. You sit and watch the whole segment, unable to tear your eyes away from the screen. When it ends, you turn it off, and sit in silence.

You sit there for hours, in the quiet, just thinking. About everything. The number twenty four keeps circling around in your head.

He was twenty four. Twenty four years old. He hadn't even got to live properly. Life is so short. Life is so unpredictable. God, anything could happen tomorrow. Twenty four. Twenty four. Twenty four.

You glance towards the clock on the wall, which reads 10:24. It feels like a sign.

All of a sudden, you're sick of waiting. Sick of being told how to live your life. Sick of trying to conform to these ideals that people are placing on you. Fuck them. Life's too short. You have to start living for you.

You're pulling on your shoes and grabbing your keys before you can even process it. You call the number for a car, but no one answers. Fuck it, you'll run across New York City if you have to. If it means you get to hold the man you love in your arms again.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

The knocking on the door is so loud, Stewy's half convinced he's about to be murdered. He swings open the heavy oak to be met with the sight of you, looking like you just ran a marathon.

You stand still for a moment, staring at each other, as if you can't believe what you're seeing. You're here, in each others vicinity again. It'd be so easy to reach out and touch him.

So, you do.

You barrel into Stewy, jumping into his arms, throwing yours around his neck. He catches you easily, holding onto you as tight as he possibly can. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself even closer, as if to merge both of your bodies into one being.

You breathe him in, and it's the first time you've taken a full breath in weeks. He smells the same as he always did, musky and woody and expensive and yours. He still smells like he's yours.

You don't realise you're crying until you pull away from him slightly, and see the wet spot on his t shirt. He puts you down and closes the door, locking it behind you. He grabs your hand and leads you into the kitchen, parting from you to pour two glasses of wine.

You jump up onto the counter and part your legs, Stewy coming to stand between them instinctively. He places a hand on each of your thighs, warmth seeping through his palms. You're face to face, unsure where to start.

"Baby," he breathes. "What are you doing here?"

He sounds unsure, almost scared. If only you knew how frantically his heart is beating in his chest.

"Life is too short," you reply quickly. "Way too short. I could literally die tomorrow."

Stewy looks at you carefully, brow quirked in confusion.

"Honey, are you on drugs? Because they're really not good for you, you know."

"Says the man who did coke off my ass last month," you tease defiantly.

He fights back a smile, but it curls at the corner of his mouth. You grin at him, hands moving to play with the hair at the back of his neck.

"I'm not on drugs," you reassure. "I was just watching the news, and it kinda put everything into perspective. Life is so short and so fragile. Why am I wasting mine trying to appease my family, who'll never be happy, no matter what I do?"

He smiles at you softly, nodding as you continue.

"I just - my whole life, my brothers have just done whatever the fuck they wanted. Especially Kendall. But I make a choice for me, and all of a sudden I'm the villain? How is that fair?"

"It isn't," he agrees, squeezing your thighs in reassurance. "They're all hypocrites. Do you know how many stupid decisions I've watched Kendall make over the years? They think they know everything, but they don't."

"I mean, look at them. Roman is incapable of affection, Kendall's ex wife hates him, and Connor practically bought Willa. My Dad's on his second wife, not including the countless mistresses he's had. None of them know anything about love. They don't know a thing."

"I think you're the only person in your family capable of love," he chuckles.

"I'm starting to think you might be right," you laugh.

You lean forward and press your forehead to Stewy's, exhaling the tension from your shoulders.

"I'm really sorry," you whisper. "For everything. I treated you horribly, and none of it was your fault."

"It wasn't your fault, either. You know that, right?"

"I don't know. It's so hard to get a view on things when they're happening. But when I took a step back, it gave me a clearer look. And it made me realise something."

"And what's that?" he murmurs.

"I realised that I cannot live a day without you, Stewy Hosseini. I don't want to."

"Thank God," he breathes in a laugh. "I've been going fucking crazy here without you."

You beam a grin at him, so bright it's a wonder that the lights don't shatter.

"I love you, and I won't apologise for it," you confess. "Whatever the consequences are, I'll accept them. Nothing can touch me when I'm loved by you. You're like my own personal armour."

"Man, we're the worst," he laughs. "We could love anyone in the world, and we just had to choose each other."

"I'm gonna choose you everyday, I'm afraid," you tease. "There's no going back now."

"I wouldn't want to," he murmurs. "I don't want to go back."

"Me neither," you whisper against his mouth.

Stewy leans forward and captures your lips with his, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You get completely lost in each other, revelling in the feeling of being back together. You feel like you can finally breathe again. The other half of your heart has returned.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you are tangled among the sheets, limbs intertwined and hands linked. You run your fingertips in mindless patterns over his chest, the sprinkling of hair tickling you, making you smile gently. Stewy's playing with your hair, soothing you softly. His heartbeat is lulling you into tranquility, relaxing you completely. This is paradise, you're convinced. Paradise.

"It can be like this forever, you know," he murmurs into the top of your head, kissing you tenderly.

"I know," you reassure. "And it will be."

Stewy can't stop thinking about the diamond ring still sitting in his nightstand. After your fight, he thought he'd never get to see you wear it. But now he knows he will. And that makes his heart flutter uncontrollably in his ribcage, like technicolour butterflies trying to escape him.

He pulls you impossibly closer, trying to breathe you in. He never wants to let you go. You don't want him to.

"We should tell them," you say suddenly. "Fuck the consequences."

"Are you sure, honey?"

You sit up in bed, looking at him carefully. His hair is mussed, shoulders relaxed, lip bitten between his teeth. He's never looked more beautiful.

"I'm sure. I wasn't, before. I think that's why I tried to push you away - I was trying to force myself into doing something I wasn't ready for. But almost losing you has made me realise that you're it for me, Stewy. You are my first and only choice. You are the only thing I'm sure of."

Stewy's chest swells with emotion, throat tightening, eyes welling. He's determined not to cry, but fuck, he's close.

"Do you know how many times I've dreamt of you saying those words to me?" he chokes out. "I love you. Fuck, I love you so much it makes me ache."

"I love you," you whisper back, cradling his face in your gentle hands. "I love you. I'm never letting you go again. Not ever."

You kiss him softly, basking in the feeling of his lips on yours. You get lost in each other once again, both of you in disbelief at being back in each others arms.

"Let's tell them," you whisper against his mouth. "Fuck the consequences."

"Fuck the consequences," he grins. "It's you and me, baby. You and me against the world."

You feel as if you're floating, levitating, powered by the sheer force of your love. Nothing can touch you. You're invincible, when you're in Stewy's arms.

He knows this is it. This is the moment. He makes his decision, and reaches his arm out to open the top drawer of this nightstand. His pulse quickens, body practically vibrating with anticipation. As he pulls it open, your phone rings, the shrill tone piercing through your peace.

You go to decline it, but notice that it's Connor's name lighting up your screen. There's a weird feeling in your stomach, suddenly.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sweetheart. It's Connor. Where are you?"

You cast a glance towards Stewy, and he shakes his head softly, silently communicating. Not yet. We'll tell him in person.

"I'm at a friend's place. What's up?"

"I, uh, I don't... I don't really know how to, um... you need to come to Dad's apartment, ASAP."

"Wait, what? Why?"

There are a million scenarios swirling around in your head, clouding your mind, overwhelming you.

"He's, uh.. I just, um, I don't-"

"Spit it out, Con."

A pause. He takes a deep breath.

"Dad's dead."

Silence.

Your heart breaks. Stewy hears it happen.

Stewy Tag List

@justacaliforniandreamer @616wilsons @shawty-writes-a-little @isuspectitwasthenargles @thinemineours @buckysbae @jolie989 @allcheesemelts

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cryoculus · 1 year

Text

— people pleaser ⟢

pairing: thoma x ex-assassin!reader

summary: it’s been three weeks since you left for yashiori island, and saying that thoma was stoked to have you back was an understatement. but as the days passed, he noticed something quite...distressing.

word count: 5.7k words

notable characters: thoma, kamisato ayaka, kamisato ayato, gorou, yae miko

tags: jealousy, misunderstandings, light angst, suggestive themes

notes: this is a guard dog side story that was written for thoma's birthday back in january 2022!

masterlist

“Miss Kira!”

Naturally, Thoma was the first to greet you by the gates once you and Ayato finally made it back. He took it upon himself to take the bag you brought off your hands, beaming at you like a puppy who just met its owner after being gone all day. Well, in hindsight, that’s not too far-off an analogy.

You shot him a tired smile, lacing your arms around his neck to peck him on the cheek. “Hey, pretty boy. Did you miss me?”

“You bet,” he replied with a chuckle before pulling away to turn to Ayato. “I’m glad to see you’re well, too, my lord. Any progress with the investigation?”

The Yashiro Commissioner heaved a long-winded sigh, handing his own luggage to the other guards. “Barely. Locating the wards was quite tricky. We had Doctor Shinya with us, too. He’s a learned gentleman from the Sumeru Academia, so if he can’t locate them even with the guidance of our Yashiori native, Miss Kira, then it’s best if we went back to the drawing board.”

Thoma nodded in understanding. “I see. No wonder you got back so early. But is it really alright to leave the Tatarigami unattended?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you insisted, patting him on the shoulder. “‘Yato over here made good on the diplomatic interventions you and milady have been overseeing in his stead. He talked some former resistance soldiers into keeping an eye out for the situation. So it’s all good.”

…Alright, Thoma was more than glad to hear that Ayaka’s efforts to restore Narukami’s relationship with the Sangonomiya faction have borne fruit. But did you just call the head of the Kamisato House ‘Yato?

Ayato didn’t seem fazed by this, though—chuckling as you all headed inside. “It’s as the lady says. Sangonomiya Kokomi has agreed to cooperate with the ongoing investigation, since the Tatarigami also poses a threat to the safety of her own citizens.”

You snorted. “We nearly got kicked out of Sangonomiya Shrine when you criticized the way they prepared their sashimi, though. I know you’re a big shot and all, but you should seriously keep things to yourself sometimes.”

“I did no such thing. I simply suggested that it would be better if they served them fresh!”

“That’s not how the shrine maidens saw it…”

Thoma was no stranger to conversations that had nothing to do with him, and thus couldn’t relate to. It’s a staple for a chief retainer to stand on the sidelines and simply let his charge do all the talking. But the…familiar way in which you addressed Ayato was something entirely new to him. He didn’t think you’d ever spoken to someone else in the estate (someone that wasn’t Thoma, at least) in the same, animated manner you conversed with the Commissioner. Despite being officially hailed as a retainer of the house, you still had your reservations for the people that got close to you.

He used to pride himself for being one of the select few you’d fully put your faith in, but…

“Now that you mentioned it, I did come off as too forward for someone that’s already asking for a favor,” Ayato sighed. “This is why I let Ayaka handle all the formalities instead. Let’s send them an…apology package, shall we?”

“Sure. I’ll help you pick some stuff out in the city after I get a good night’s sleep,” you said. “Gods know it wasn’t exactly comfortable sharing a tent with you of all people.”

The moment the words left your lips, Thoma felt his brain short-circuit and jumpstart back into motion right after. You and Ayato shared a tent. For three weeks. His girlfriend slept in the same, close proximity as his lord. And they were acting completely casual about it!

This is probably just nothing, he assured himself—albeit poorly. Right…?

Thoma took all of that in stride. Of course he did. He’s Thoma—the level-headed, even-tempered housekeeper of the Kamisato House! It’s in his job description to take things in stride. So when he decided to tail you and Ayato to your impromptu shopping trip to Inazuma City the next day, his actions didn’t bear any ill will at all!

He was as discreet as a Mondstadter could be smack in the middle of Inazuma. Making himself scarce was something that Thoma has had trouble with for the longest time. Everything about him screamed outlander no matter how much he tried to dress himself up as a local. But you and Ayato didn’t seem privy to his advances—sampling dishes from Kiminami Restaurant without a care in the world.

You weren’t really up to anything suspicious so far. But the fact that Ayato insisted that you two go out without any guards was already worth looking into. It didn’t help that you hadn’t spoken a word about this before heading to bed either.

To Thoma’s relief, you still opted to sleep in his room last night like you always did before. The feel of you snuggling against his body underneath the sheets was a feeling he missed so much, he could almost cry. So even if he wanted to break the ice by asking how you and Ayato had suddenly grown closer, the chief retainer couldn’t stand the idea of ruining the cozy atmosphere that he hasn’t felt in weeks. Besides, he might just be reading into it too much. Thoma does that a lot these days.

“Hm? Thoma? Is that you?”

He nearly jumped out of the bush he was hiding in at the sound of another voice, hiding the binoculars (that he definitely didn’t steal from your drawer) from view. However, when Thoma saw who exactly caught him stalking you from such a high vantage point like a psychopath, he could only crane his head in confusion.

“General Gorou?” he half-asked, half-greeted. “What brings you here?”

“Um,” he began awkwardly, ears perking up. “This is my hiding spot, too, so…”

Thoma didn’t even know where to begin asking about the general’s predicament, but he decided not to press the matter. This wasn’t the first time he’s spoken to Gorou—given the peace talks he was mandated to attend by Ayaka’s side. But this was definitely the first he’s seen him loitering around the city.

“Who are you…?” Gorou squinted from the cliff’s edge where Thoma decided to conduct his stakeout, following it up with a quick— “Oh.”

“...Don’t tell me you see them from all the way up here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re performing an espionage mission on your own charge!”

Oh, right. Of course Gorou would focus on Ayato; not you.

“I’m not,” he explained. “I’m just…”

For a moment, Thoma considered unloading the troubles he’s been harboring since yesterday onto this not-so stranger. Gorou wasn’t someone who he saw on the regular, so surely it wouldn’t hurt to confide his girl-problems in the guy? Besides, from his contributions to the peace talks alone, Thoma could tell he was someone who gave top-tier advice.

But before he could even speak a word, Gorou suddenly froze up—body reflexively easing into a defensive stance. “Tch… My apologies, but I’ll have to make an abrupt leave or else she’ll catch me.”

“...She?”

The general immediately bolted away from the shrubs, scampering back to the streets of Inazuma City and leaving Thoma more clueless than he was to begin with.

When Thoma glanced back at Kiminami Restaurant through the binoculars, he realized that you and Ayato had already left in the midst of his chance meeting with Gorou. Great. Now he had no one to stake out for.

“You there.”

Thoma jolted in surprise once again—immediately assuming that an officer from the Tenryou Commission was probably going to scold him for going over the fences. But when he whirled around, it wasn’t a bulky soldier that greeted his sight, but rather a familiar shrine maiden with a cunning air to her.

“Have you seen a little fox boy running around?” Yae Miko asked with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We have a deadline coming up soon, and he just keeps slipping right underneath my nose. What a pain, that one.”

“Uhh…” Something told him Gorou was going to be very happy if Thoma did him a solid right here, right now. “Nope. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Lady Guuji.”

She sighed, crossing her arms with a resigned look. “Well, frankly, I can’t be bothered to chase after him now. How about you entertain me instead, Kamisato retainer?”

It took him a moment to realize that Yae Miko actually remembered who he was, and Thoma swallowed the lump in his throat before hopping back over the fence—leaving the binoculars hidden in the shrubs to retrieve later.

“How may I be of service?” he asked nervously.

Yae Miko gave him a single look that was enough to make any lesser man cower. It’s a good thing he regularly accompanied Ayaka to her meetings with the priestess at the shrine. Else, Thoma might’ve grovelled at her feet from the pressure of her gaze alone.

“Give me your palm, would you?” she requested softly.

Thoma blinked. “Pardon?”

“Your palm, boy. I’d like to read it.”

He still didn’t fully understand what she was trying to make him do, but Thoma unfastened the harnesses on his right glove—flexing his fingers a bit before extending it to Yae Miko. The priestess took his hand in her much softer ones, and while the other men from the Yashiro Commission preferred women who were soft to the touch, he’d developed a fondness for your calloused palms. The same hands that he held in his own during colder nights or a simple stroll around Ritou. The same hands he wouldn’t mind holding for the rest of his life.

Wait. Why was he thinking about you when—

“You’re a fire elemental,” Yae Miko murmured, tracing the lines on his palm firmly. “That explains the Pyro Vision, yes. Hmm… Good vitality, strong mental constitution, relatively stable, and… Oh?”

Thoma felt his stomach drop. He did not like the sound of that.

“I-Is anything wrong, Lady Guuji?” he asked dryly.

The priestess continued running her finger along his palms, as if tracing a poem out of his skin. She had a hint of a smile playing on her lips, but Thoma knew better than to deduce a kitsune’s intentions from their facial expressions alone.

“Your other lines are in order, but your heart line… Quite shallow,” Yae Miko sighed, shaking her head. “This means you’re more sensitive and vulnerable than the rest. For someone who’s stood by Kamisato Ayaka’s side all this time, this is quite the surprise. You’ve always come off as a level-headed person to me, but I suppose living here as an outlander makes your heart waver every so often. Am I right?”

…How on earth did she find all that out just by reading his palms?

“From the look on your face, I can tell that you’re going through something unpleasant as well,” she continued, letting go of his hand with a stern look. “I don’t know the specifics but it would be good to actually speak to the person or people involved. There’s no point in punishing yourself with uncertainty when their reassurance is readily attainable. Isn’t that right, Kamisato retainer?”

Now he knew why some of the shrine maidens at the estate spoke of Yae Miko with a hint of fear in their words. She was way too perceptive!

“It’s an honor to receive direct counsel from you, Lady Guuji,” Thoma said with a small bow. “Thank you very much. I’ll make sure to reflect on it.”

“Oh, reflection alone won’t get you anywhere, sweet boy,” she chuckled behind her hand. “Rather, you should act on it. Playing the people pleaser can only last you for so long in a place like this. I’m sure you know that well—being an outlander and all.”

That hit a little too close to home, but Thoma didn’t make it evident on his face. “I understand. Thank you again.”

That day, Thoma decided against searching the city for yours and Ayato’s whereabouts. Instead, he went straight home and leveled the hedges faster than the time it would take for three people to do the job. Yae Miko’s words repeated themselves like a mantra in his head, and all he could do to cope was keep himself busy.

Playing the people pleaser can only last you so long in a place like this.

You and the Commissioner didn’t return until nightfall, and Thoma didn’t voice out a single complaint—receiving you and his charge with bright smiles and a warm welcome as usual. During dinner, though, he felt Ayaka’s gaze trailing after him every now and again. That was a telltale sign that the princess was catching on to whatever was bothering him, but Thoma had a tad too much pride to let her in on the situation.

After all, this was probably just nothing.

Right?

Things didn’t exactly get better in the next few days like he’d hoped.

You’ve been quite elusive as of late. You hadn’t slept in his room since the night you first came back, and while Thoma usually didn’t mind your independence, his…current predicament made going about this in a completely logical manner quite difficult. Your outings with Ayato have become more and more frequent than what he was accustomed to. The Commissioner had a penchant for holing himself in his room for days, and now he took public matters into his own hands?

Another thing that startled him was the fact that you’re oh-so willing to tend to Ayato’s requests! Back then, you used to bemoan the workload and talked Thoma’s ear off about how much you wanted to quit despite the Kamisato clan’s good graces. Of course, you didn’t mean a single word. Both of you knew how attached you’ve gotten to this family, and peeling yourself away was more work than you’d otherwise expect.

But now, even when you weren’t busy, Thoma would catch you going up to Ayato’s study to do Archons-know-what. He wasn’t so terrible a person that he’d jump to conclusions about his lord doing unsightly things with his lover, but…

“Thoma.”

He sighed, casting a sidelong glance across the hall. “Yes, milady?”

Ayaka had that look on her face—the one that spelled you owe me an explanation for this—and Thoma wondered why he thought he could ever escape her scrutiny. This was Ayaka after all.

Wordlessly, he led her to the pavilion, where the fresh breeze wafted through the courtyard. They sat on the edge of the platform like they always did, since they were children. And as Thoma gazed out into the ocean below, Ayaka patiently waited for him to speak.

“Milady, what would you do if you thought your lover was…losing interest in you?”

It’s not like Thoma never considered the possibility—in fact, he has. Multiple times. You used to be one of the underground’s renown assassins. Even if you’ve successfully adapted to your life as a retainer in such a short time, Thoma knew very well that you were still a lone wolf by heart. It wouldn’t come as a surprise to him if, one day, you decided that you didn’t need the Yashiro Commission—didn’t need him—anymore, and fled into the night. He didn’t like it when it felt like you were slipping out of his grasp. You already did once, and he feared that it was bound to happen again.

This definitely wasn’t a thought that occurred to Thoma on a daily basis. But whenever he did consider the idea of you leaving him behind…

Ayaka’s eyes widened slightly at his inquiry, and Thoma could almost hear the thought process occurring in that head of hers. What do you mean? Did you and Miss Kira have a fight? Is there anything I can do?

However, the reaction that he actually got was…far from what he imagined.

Ayaka pressed her lips together in an attempt to suppress a snort, startling when such an unbecoming noise came out of her before pressing a palm across her mouth. Thoma didn’t know whether he should be offended that she was laughing at his predicament or relieved because the Shirasagi Himegimi was finally letting herself express an extensive spectrum of emotions. Either way, Ayaka was quick to recover from that quick slip-up.

“And here I thought you might’ve been coming down with something,” she sighed, clearing her throat as she composed herself. “Thoma, what gave you the idea that Miss Kira was losing interest?”

“...You’re going to think I’m ridiculous.”

“I’m sure your reasons aren’t any more ridiculous than the list of complaints we receive from the citizens on the regular,” Ayaka reassured. “Now, go on. You’ve always heard me out when I have things I can’t get off my mind. It’s only proper for me to lend you an ear as well.”

Thoma closed his eyes. Yup. There was no escaping Kamisato Ayaka’s scrutiny.

So, he told her. About how he noticed you and her brother have grown exponentially familiar with each other ever since your trip to Yashiori Island. How you’ve been avoiding him(?) as of late. He’s not very sure about that last one, since you still respond whenever Thoma calls out to you, but it’s as if you had more impending matters to attend to than paying attention to him. If he’d been any less understanding than he was, he would’ve sulked.

Ayaka listened to every word carefully, nodding every so often. And once Thoma was finished speaking, she breathed in deeply.

“I see. So that’s how things appeared on your end,” the princess lamented. “I’ll be the one to apologize on their behalf. Those two… You’re right about the fact that they have grown closer since Yashiori. But there's absolutely no reason for you to fret, Thoma.”

Thoma shot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“What I’m saying is, Brother and Miss Kira are two people who, when they put their backs into planning something, give it their all so it would be a success.” Ayaka grinned. “That kind of explains why she’s been hard to come by lately. Although, you should be seeing the fruit of their labor very soon.”

“...That doesn’t make you sound cryptic at all, milady.”

She giggled behind the guise of her fan, and Thoma ultimately resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get any answers out of her anytime soon.

“You’ll see~”

He hardly got a wink of sleep that night.

Thoma tossed and turned alone in his bed—wondering what in the seven nations you and Ayato had been cooking up to warrant this much of your time. Could it be pertaining to your investigations on Yashiori Island? Was it some sort of new and improved cure for the Tatarigami? He hadn’t the slightest clue, and he wasn’t getting anywhere near a logical explanation come morning either.

To his disappointment, Madarame had to get him out of bed because he’d overslept. This was something unusual for Thoma to experience because his circadian rhythm was as impeccable as Ayaka’s swordsmanship.

(He humbly blames it on the lack of attention from his significant other.)

“Lord and Lady Kamisato have already gone out for the day,” Madarame explained as he and Thoma made their way to the courtyard. “But they did leave instructions for you to drop by Komore Teahouse once you’re able. It’s for an…urgent matter, so to speak.”

Thoma sighed. Great. Now there was another impending issue on his plate, when he hadn’t even sorted out his conflicted feelings about your recurring absence. Not that Madarame had to know about these tendencies of his. Nobody would believe it—the housekeeper of the Kamisato clan, craving the love and affection of his girlfriend like a kicked puppy.

“What of Miss Kira?” he asked, just in case. “Has she said anything?”

Madarame’s face scrunched up into an apologetic look. Thoma sighed.

“Thanks anyways,” he told him glumly. “I’ll head over to the city now. Hold down the fort while we’re gone, okay?”

“Of course.” Madarame bowed, but just as Thoma was about to turn on his heel to make his leave— “Oh, Master Thoma, one more thing.”

The chief glanced at the other man with one brow arched as he flashed him a sincere grin that only served to puzzle Thoma. “Yes?”

Then, earnestly, Madarame spoke:

“Happy Birthday.”

Things just got more depressing, if that was even possible.

Thoma made the trip to the capital in several states of distress. He’d been so caught up in trying to wrap his head around yours and Ayato’s antics that he forgot today was his birthday.

It didn’t help that it seemed he was the only one left in the dark. Ayato knew. You knew. Hell, even Ayaka knew what was going on. During last night’s bout of senseless overthinking, he considered ditching common courtesy and just straight up asking the princess all the things he wanted to know about. As strong-willed as she was, Ayaka was still quite meek. Thoma knew he could pressure some answers out of her given the right conditions, but he never once tried to do so in any other situation. Being a people pleaser, and all that.

But now, he was at his limit. His lover obviously thought another man’s time was worth her while compared to Thoma’s. Even if Ayato loved and raised him like they were blood brothers, he couldn’t help the unshakeable feeling of resentment. Just one trip to Yashiori made them all smitten like that? When Thoma has been by your side far longer?

In the back of his head, an ominous voice reminded him that you and him only became more honest with your feelings after retrieving that cure from Yashiori all those months ago.

Who knew Miss Kira was that easy? It hissed. She ditched you for Ayato on your birthday.

Shut up. Shut up, she’s not like that.

Okay, having an internal argument with himself in broad daylight was all sorts of weird. But that extensive contemplation made Thoma fail to realize that he’d already arrived.

Komore Teahouse has been the Yashiro Commission’s stronghold in the capital since time immemorial. Both Ayaka and Ayato preferred having business dealings in the discreet rooms of the shop rather than back at the estate. Not only was it carefully guarded by the Shuumatsuban, but it was more accessible compared to the manor in Mount Yougou.

The first thing Thoma noticed, however, was that nobody was stationed outside. Not Kozue, not Heihachi. Even that pesky Snezhnayan Ramsay was nowhere to be seen.

All of a sudden, a chill ran across the length of his spine. The grisly that thought the Teahouse had been under siege crossed his mind as quick as lightning. Kozue would never leave her post for just any reason, so that was the most sound explanation he could think of. Hurriedly, the chief retainer slid the door to the shop open; hoping that this wasn’t where Ayaka and Ayato were headed for the day—

Pop!

Thoma could only stand by the doorway in stunned silence as a small blast of confetti hit him in the face. To his side, the Commissioner’s familiar face came to view—an unsuspecting party popper in his hands, before the rest of his company shouted:

“Happy Birthday!”

All around him, the familiar faces of friends, family, and comrades were present. Taroumaru was seated comfortably on his usual spot on the counter—holding up a sign that spelled Happy Birthday, Thoma! Ayaka was, surprisingly, in the company of none other than Yae Miko herself, a person he never thought he would see again so soon. She winked at him from behind the princess, as if telling him to keep a secret only they knew about. Yoimiya and Sayu have also joined the fray; with the former clapping her hands gleefully and the latter napping on top of the counter.

And then there was you.

“Hey,” you greeted casually—holding a delectable-looking cake in your hands as Yoimiya took it upon herself to light the candles. “How’re you doing, guard dog?”

Thoma was at an utter loss for words. He gaped at you in silence, green eyes alight with surprise as he absentmindedly let you ease the cake into his hands.

“W-We’re both guard dogs,” he mumbled before promptly snapping out his trance. “Wait, what’s this? Don’t tell me…”

Ayaka chuckled from where she sat herself down in front of the counter. “Miss Kira and Brother have been putting together a surprise party for you, if that isn’t any more obvious than it already is.”

“We thought you’d appreciate the, ah, change in pace,” Ayato supplied, setting the party popper near the door as he crossed his arms. “You’ve been working so diligently these days, that you deserved as much.”

His lips quivered with the intent to speak, but no words were coming out. Thoma’s gaze darted around every person in the room, as if unable to get a grip on the reality before him—what the hell is Yae Miko doing here?!—until his emerald gaze landed on your form.

You grinned. “What are you waiting for? The candles aren’t going to blow themselves y’know? Plus, we prepared an entire repertoire for your special day.”

The thought of you going out of your way just to prepare all this made a familiar warmth surge through his chest. Of course, he felt all the more guilty of thinking those nasty thoughts about what you were up to. But he supposed he could repent for that a bit later. The others looked on expectantly, and Thoma, who’d always been weak to the whims of others, heaved a sigh.

So he puckered his lips and blew out the candles.

“I am so sorry.”

Those were the first words that came out of his mouth once Thoma pulled you into another room in the Teahouse. You gawked at him, confused as your lover sank to his knees and bowed before you.

“You know, I’m not really into this sort of S&M play, right?” you told him as you sat in front of his repentant form on the tatami. “But do I want to ask what this is about?”

Thoma sat upright with a sigh, maintaining a certain distance given that he felt like he didn’t deserve to be near you at all after everything he just assumed… “I thought you didn’t want me anymore. You’ve been so busy with the Commissioner these past few days that I assumed—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a sec,” you interjected, palms raised. “Are you saying you thought Ayato and I hit it off or something?”

“...Yes?”

If the small snort that Ayaka gave him yesterday was disrespectful, the reaction he gained from you was downright insolent. You laughed your heart out until you were a giggling mess on the floor, wiping the tears in your eyes at the prospect of Thoma getting jealous of Ayato over something that he completely had the wrong idea about.

“Okay, for the record, ‘Yato and I are just tight as hell. Like bro-bros, y’know?” you explained, and Thoma didn’t really understand your verbiage. “He’s the one who dragged me back to fix things when shit hit the fan, so he’s kind of like my voice of reason for a lot of things now…”

“That includes how I’m going to handle...us.”

Now, that caught his attention. “Pardon?”

You sighed, pulling yourself upright before scooting a bit to lean your head on his shoulder. “I’ve never nurtured any sort of stable relationship in the past, y’know? Zero experience. I’m terrified of messing up somewhere so badly that you’ll leave me because of it. That’s why I asked for Ayato’s advice while we were in Yashiori.”

…Thoma had no idea that you carried such sentiments inside. He wanted to tell you that even if you slaughtered every person in this building right now, he would still love you. Though that’s stretching it a bit, it didn’t make it any less true.

He was so hopelessly in love with you. It was downright ridiculous!

“He told me that one of the best ways to keep a relationship going is consistency,” you murmured, linking your hand with his. “I have to be consistent in letting you know how I feel. Always, without fail. I can’t just be a lone wolf forever, since I came to work at the estate on my own volition. It means I gotta be more open with you, too, yeah? That’s why I thought throwing you a birthday party was a good place to start.”

He couldn’t believe it. The woman he feared would leave him one day also harbored the same thoughts. That made him a hypocrite, now that he thought about it. Thoma had been so busy keeping the peace and making things easy for everyone in the present, that he hadn’t dedicated any time to addressing the future he’s bound to share with you.

He was yet to give you a proper reassurance.

“I-It’s just—” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You’re just so amazing, you know that? Everyone trusts you, everyone looks up to you—even if you’re an outlander. I can barely talk to one of milady’s annoying socialite friends without saying something standoffish.”

Thoma squeezed your hand with a fond smile. “And?”

“And I feel like, I— Ugh. You are so going to give me an earful for this, but… I still feel like I don’t deserve you.”

The chief retainer exhaled loudly through his nose before pulling you closer to his chest. You visibly startled at the gesture, but followed his lead, no less.

“That’s something you can’t easily convince yourself of,” he acknowledged, remembering the times you told him about your childhood in Yashiori Island; about the years you spent as a wandering mercenary. “And I don’t blame you for it. But I hope that you’re willing to move forward to the next phase of your life, and not chain yourself to the sins you committed in the past. I’ll always be here, Miss Kira. Every step of the way.”

He felt your fingers tighten around his bicep and the sigh of relief that expelled from your chest. You turned around to face him with a teary look in your eyes. But just before he could panic and wipe them away—

“It’s been a while since you’ve called me by my real name,” you sulked, cupping his jaw in the curve of your palm. “That one’s reserved for you alone, remember? Don’t forget to use the privilege.”

Thoma let out an airy laugh, pressing his lips to yours in a firm kiss as he murmured the syllables of your name against your mouth. You sighed—hands moving to the back of his neck as you shifted on his lap. Both of you were well aware of the fact that the others were in the other room, playing a very interesting variation of mahjong that Ayato came up with, but you didn’t care.

Your lover even let his tongue slip inside the cavern of your mouth, hands firmly planted on your hips as he—

“I was wondering where the celebrant was.”

Needless to say, the two of you sprang apart at the sound of Yae Miko’s voice. Red-faced, Thoma greeted her with a stuttered reply that has the priestess chuckling at the doorway.

“No need to explain yourselves. Young ones always have so much energy, after all,” she teased. “Lord Ayato was kind enough to invite me to this little get-together, but I must take my leave. There’s something I need to look into back at the shrine.”

“T-Thanks for coming Lady Guuji. It really is an honor,” you told her dryly, with whatever semblance of composure you could muster up.

Yae Miko flashed another one of those conspiratorial grins. “That reminds me, I left a matrimonial charm in Lady Ayaka’s care as your birthday present. If the two of you ever plan on tying the knot, just show that to one of my shrine maidens, and I’ll personally oversee the ceremony myself.”

…Wait a moment. Did Yae Miko, the Lady Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, just give the two of you her blessing for marriage?

“Well, you can continue what it was you were doing,” she laughed, lifting one hand in a wave. “I hope to see you both soon~”

Then, there were two.

“We’re going to pretend that didn’t happen, right?” you asked.

Thoma nodded. “Definitely.”

As the two of you straightened yourselves out before rejoining the others at the party, you randomly asked, “Hey, this is a little out of the blue, but have you seen my binoculars anywhere? I put it in the drawer by your cabinets, but I can’t seem to find them anymore.”

He feigned a look of contemplation—wholly aware that he forgot to retrieve your special gadget from where he hid them in the bushes the last time he saw Yae Miko. Fuck.

“Nope, no clue,” he replied swiftly. “We could ask around in Ritou if they’ve imported anything similar?”

“Ehh, that was just a hand-me-down from the Tenryou Commission anyways.” You shrugged. “Oh, by the way…”

Thoma paused as you leaned closer to his ear to whisper something. If he hadn’t been embarrassed when Yae Miko walked in on the two of you, he definitely was now.

“I’m going to make up for the time we spent apart when we get home,” you whispered. “You’ll play along, right, pretty boy?”

The chief retainer could barely suppress the groan that reverberated in his chest as you tantalizingly ran your hand across it. Now that he’s fully recovered from his own emotional turmoils, the fact that he’s been wanting to get you alone all this time came crashing down. But it wasn’t as if he’s in any position to refuse.

He was the people pleaser after all.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin smut #genshin fanfic #thoma smut #thoma fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #thoma x reader #genshin thoma #cryoculus #guard dog

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lgbtlunaverse · 10 months

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I think i need to explain why this line makes me go so feral

I think the "fine! I'll kill myself after I kill you" line from nie mingjue in chapter 49 permanently altered my brain chemistry and it has something to do with precisely how i got into the mdzs fandom space in the first place.

I've mentioned it a few times but i started watching the untamed in late 2019 right as it was blowing up everywhere and, likely due to a combination of undiagnosed adhd wrecking my ability to be interested in anything for longer than 4 seconds and me very much not being used to the specific style of acting, especially during fightscenes, i never finished it. The only concrete memory i have of it is seeing wen qing's face and meng ziyi completely short circuiting my little gay brain. I remember more of staring endlessly at pictures of her than I remember of the plot. Press F to pay respects.

Flash forward a few years and a friend recommends me a fic writer for an fma fic (the fic riter in question is metisket) and i like their stlye so much i decide to read other stuf they've written. Here we get to our prime suspect: "the one body problem" a genuinely hilarious fic where jingyi gets posessed by wei wuxian like a year before the plot happens and they become awkward brain buddies. 10/10 i loved it (and still do) even though i remember huasiang showing up in my first reading and I, having fully forgotten his name, had no fucking clue what was going on. (Little did i know...)

Anyway flash forward ANOTHER year and I decide to reread that fic, and then the other untamed fic metisket wrote, a wen qing time travel fix it that's also real fun. And then i'm like. huh. that's fun. wonder if there's anything in their bookmarks.

And then, within 20 days, I had read approximately 350 fics. Many of them 100k+ words. I cannot stress enough how much this CONSUMED my brain's ability to do or think about anything else. I now think back to the early days of getting my adhd diagnosis and insisted that while i had pretty much all other symptoms, I did not get hyperfixations. Lol. Lmao, even.

I am mainly focused on wangxian and the junior quartet becuase they are my baby ducklings and i love them. I do come across some 3zun fics and I think huh... this is interesting. But the 3zun brainrot is LIGHT at this point.

The thing about reading more than 350 fanfics is that at some point you kind of piece the plot of the source material back together backwards. Especially because my favorite genre was time travel fix its, where characters relive the whole plot and like to make allusions to all the ways everything went wrong last time.

Because I'm still squarely in my wangxian + juniors (plus a heavy dosis of yunmeng sibling reconciliation) corner here... the feelings on jin guangyao in my fandom corner are. different from where I'd end up soon after. He is my special little guy though, so I do kind of immediatley develop a fondness for him, and I approach my 3zun and early nieyao thoughts specifcially from the assumption that the widespread opinion is that nie mingjue is a fine good guy and jgy is the evil one (I have not seen the bad nmj takes yet. well... I am seeing DIFFERENT bad nmj takes but they're nice to him. In, like, the wrong way. With no solid undertanding of the inherent tragedy at the heart of him that makes him so blorbo to me. But still.) major reactions to the stairs scene as I see them on twitter are "girlboss! He should've kicked him harder 💅"

And the baby jgy apologist in me goes :/ me no likey. And at this point I am also actively seeking out metas and analysis posts so i'm seeing some better opinions than that and getting a halfway solid graps on the themes. wwx and jgy being foils becomes very obvious to me very quickly. So, with my curent understanding of the plot, I go... you know all you people who are like "god i wish nmj would have killed jgy sooner" it uhh... kinda sounds like he'd have died if he did that. If he'd killed him before meng yao had gone off to spy there is a very big chance they'd have lost the sunshot campaign and most of the main cast would be dead. If he'd killed him at the stairs that's... well that's killing your sworn brother, which by the canon's own admission is a universally reviled crime, and jin guangshan could easily take advantage of this by demanding nmj's head in retribution, since he already wanted to get rid of him anyway. He doesn't give a fuck about a-yao of course but he could pretend well enough that he does. And what leg would nmj have to stand on? The jin clan is canonically both willing and able to slaughter entire clans for the murder or attempted murder of the leader or his family, and nie mingjue is the kinda guy who'd immediately offer himself up if it meant the rest of his clan would be spared.

This combined with jin guangyao specifcally dying for his murder of nie mingjue, with huaisang basically not caring much about everything else he does and wanting to get revenge only for his brother, it gives nieyao a sort of mutual doomed soulmates feel. For either of them, killing the other would spell death for themselves. They either both die or they both live, one cannot live on without the order. That's crunchy. I like it.

The fire palace though? well, on meng yao's part there is a real argument that if he'd let nmj get killed immediatly instead of dragging it out he wouldn't have been able to get wrh alone and distracted enough to assasinate him, so that's one half of the mutual doom coin, and if nmj had killed him during their fight there he's also done for. But after? Right before Xichen intervenes? I had no answer for that yet.

(You know what's coming. I did not)

It is at this point that i realize that if this is gonna keep being A Thing then i need to read the source material before I catch fatal fanon poisoning. Yes, I can piece together the plot and themes from seeing what stays consistent across fics and what are the author's own opinons. But I know just as well that sometimes fanon just agrees on shit that didn't happen and treats it like canon, and I have no way of knowing which is which. So I start reading the novel.

And of course, eventually I get to the empathy sequence. And remember, my "nieyao both live or both die" theory is heavy on my mind at this point, and the only stickler is that nmj could sort of have killed meng yao after the confrontation with wrh, still believing meng yao was actually working for him, and not a spy, and get off... not scott-free, Xichen won't be happy, but it's not gonna cost him his life.

And then I read THIS.

Please Imagine dropping a whole block of pure elemental sodium into water. Except the sodium is this quote and the water is my poor little delicate brain. Not only is my theory right, it is ten times more unhinged than i thought it was.

And considering that Nie Mingjue does not seem like the kind of guy who'd consider something like a life debt to have an expiration date, and because after this he will link himself legally and socially to jin guangyao as family and declare that one among their brotherhood turning against the others is to be met with a painful death, I can no longer read the scene at the stairscase in jinlintai without the impression that he is still planning to die afterwards. Which, if you wanted to make that scene even more painful, this is a very efficient way of losing all your remaining hinges.

I think I'd have gone crazy about this line no matter what context I heard it in, but this one specifically? where I'm already obsessed with idea of nieyao's deaths being connected by the narrative and missing just this one piece and having it confirmed? out loud? from one of the characters himself? It's like giving cocaine to a baby.

#mdzs #fandom #jin guangyao #meng yao #nie mingjue #nieyao #? sorta #this was months ago and i have long since worked my way through the whole novel #plus rereading empathy approximately 14 more times #funnily enough the fics that initially got me interested in 3zun don't gell so well with my reading of them anymore #still very well written and i can reread them happily but it's still kind of ironic #it is what i wanted i suppose. Making sure you don't fall for fanon means fanon sometimes becomes less enjoyable #also @helesia if you're reading this yes YOU are the friend and yes that means this is YOUR fault #i'm billing you for my next therapy appointment #not meta not a headcanon but a secret 3rd thing (unorganized rambling)

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moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown · 1 year

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Logan Roy would 1000% send his children to be institutionalised if they were more blatant about there mental illnesses.

Like all of the Roy family has sever mental illnesses let’s be real here how can they not growing up like they did.

But I see so many ‘being the youngest Roy sibling’ HC and I keep thinking about being the youngest Roy sibling and showing sever signs of bi polar or depression or schizophrenia *hey hey I have bi polar, depression and had schizoaffective disorder so I can say that shit ain’t fun* so here some Hc? Brain dribble about that.

So it’s under readmore and yeah also I am

Someone who has been in a psych ward many times *dont ask* so I feel qualified to make this.

Like they show signs of it being sever, sever and like they get dealt with, when there like a kid and Logan just punishes them like they are having tantrums. But by like maybe early to mid 20s it becomes very clear when they try to off themselves.

That’s when Logan says ‘fine we’ll deal with this the old fashion way’ and let’s just say the siblings are ya know sitting with the youngest Roy at Logan’s house when the men in white jackets come and basically yank them up and the whole time the others are screaming like ‘the fuck is going on?!’ And the youngest is just screaming for them to let them go and maybe even tries to grab onto Kendall or Roman or shiv while being dragged out.

After logan explains, your just going to a hospital that can better treat you, and help you deal with your mental state better.

Connor fully riots when he hears this happened, storms into Logan’s office with Kendall and Roman behind him trying to ya know stop the fight that’s about to kick off and Connor is fuming like

“You fucking bastard! You already locked my mother up, your once wife! But that’s not enough so you lock your fucking kid up?!” Like this is an anger I don’t think anyone’s ever seen in Connor.

And Connor is the one to visit you every day, he brings you things you may need, or just things he hopes you can decorate your little space in your room with.

Roman brings you like the things you can’t sleep with out at night, like a special stuffed animal or a blanket or pillow. He’s the one who jokes about you being the actual crazy one, and like he gets the need to deflect with dark humor.

Shiv is the one who brings you the clothes you actually would wear, and not the random stuff that Logan had a house keeper pack for you. When she first visits to bring them your in a full on hospital gown because you refuse to wear what Logan gave you.

Kendall is the most awkward when he visits because yeah he went to rehab but like, this is way more lock down and he maybe realises that this could have happened to him if he didn’t ya know get a control on his shit like he tries to.

You meet Tom while still in the ya know hospital and fully tell shiv if she marries him you have a free bed in your room if she needs it.

Logan basically 51-50ed you so like the resentment against him is real, it’s like not good.

You spend like a solid almost 2 years institutionalised. But when you get out, Connor has a welcome home party for you. Everyone comes out, except Logan cause Connor was not about to have that KO fight happen.

You have always been closest to Roman, not really sure why but you two just get each other better and oh the jokes you both make at each other, like makes everyone else so uncomfortable. When eating at the like welcome back dinner he switches your silver wear for plastic and you joke like

“Plastic can still hurt. Wanna see” and like he knows it’s a joke but everyone else gets that like uncomfortable vibe about them

“If I can’t joke about it, I’ll cry about it, so we joke yes? Do you want me to jump off the roof cause-“

Roman casually jokingly makes sure your taking your meds everyday like texts or calls or quips like

“So how’s today? You eat? Take your fucking crazy pills that make you see god or whatever…” like very obvious but very Roman.

I just, I have feelings alright…

#roman succession #Roman Roy #roman roy succession #succession #roman roy x reader #baby sibling Roy #Kendall Roy #shiv roy #Logan Roy #Connor Roy #tom wambsgans

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velvet-cupcake-games · 1 year

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Made Marion June Development Update: Schedule Edition, Straight Talk

[I decided to post our June dev update early, because I have some difficult things to say, but I hope this will get us all on the same page about what's happened with Made Marion since our Kickstarter.]

Hi everyone! I've decided to check in early with a report on our development schedule and some straight talk on some tough stuff. I hope this will help us all get on the same page and be excited instead of worried about Made Marion's development process.

First of all, thank you all so much for your magnificent patience and concern! This is definitely not how I wanted Made Marion's development to go or how it would have gone if things were still the way they were for our team back when we ran our Kickstarter. We have been seriously kicked in the teeth repeatedly, and I'd like to offer a better explanation and our proposed solutions and revised schedule.

I'm also sorry for the lack of pretty pictures this month! There will be many available very soon when Robin's beta test is ready to go!

The Problems:

1. As of fall 2021, things were going pretty well! We'd just run a beta for Made Marion's prologue and my route outlines were shaping up nicely. Then things began to go wrong. I had some issues at home that took up my attention, and then my darn town flooded. Drat it, ok, lost a couple months, but we can get back on track in 2022...

2. Then 2022, for various reasons was a disaster for pretty much our entire team (I'm only going to talk about my problems here, because those are the ones it is mine to share). It ended up being basically a wash for development. Why wasn't that obvious from our development updates? Because of my brain. I contracted Covid in January of 2022 and a few weeks later, the Long Covid symptoms started. I was near-narcoleptic for several months. It was scary and embarrassing and I didn't know how to talk about it. So I was as positive as I could be. Around May, my body started to recover. I was able to live more normally and I figured that meant I could get back to development.

What I didn't know and couldn't effectively communicate was that the brain fog was still there. I was writing, but not in a straight line. I wrote scenes for all the love interests here and there, scribbled a bunch in my notebooks, but a full, logical route for Robin wasn't happening. And the problem with your brain not working right is that it's very difficult to understand that your brain isn't working right. I thought things were cool! So it appeared that I wasn't being honest about the status of development without me realizing it did or even fully understanding that development wasn't going well. I'm very sorry about that.

3. Around November of 2022 my brain started working better again, but I was demoralized and felt like I'd forgotten how to write. I "eased" myself back into writing with a huge fic, along with finally getting back to putting words together for Robin. I wrote words! Lots of words! Good words! Yeah! We pulled together as a team and got our enhanced demo out, which was a lot of work but was super exciting.

4. Feeling guilty about the wash that was 2022 and excited because of how much verbiage I'd put out, I created an ambitious schedule toward an Early Access release of all the Sherwood routes this fall. It was based on the amount of words I'd been putting out, so I was convinced it was doable. Some of you wrote in to Tumblr with concerns that it was overly ambitious. You were wonderful and primarily concerned for my well-being. You were also correct.

The Solutions:

1. I need to accept that I have a disabling condition that currently has no cure and that, although it has greatly improved since last year, means that I can't always work at my peak capacity. This is super tough for a high achiever with general anxiety. I hate even talking about it, but I want to be as transparent with y'all as I can be.

2. The schedule: I still wish to keep a relatively ambitious target schedule for the remainder of development. I think it is helping us all Get Shit Done(tm). I just need to be a little less ambitious. I still plan to release Early Access this fall and I'm still hoping for October (which was always tentative), but November may be more realistic. It depends on how well my body and mind cooperate over the summer, and on the individual situations of our artists. Early Access will launch with Robin and Will's routes. John is going to need to take more time. It will be worth it, because he will get the full attention and care that his wonderful self deserves.

3. The weekly mini-dev updates: I have started posting mini-dev updates on Mondays on Tumblr. This is the place to go if you want a more granular report of the progress we've been making, and I think they're going to be very helpful for maintaining clarity and helping keep us all on-task.

4. Beta: I have more detailed information about Beta in the Kickstarter version of this update.

Conclusion:

Looking back from here, our original release date estimate from Kickstarter was too ambitious even under ideal circumstances. That was my development inexperience speaking. The rest was a lot of IRL horribleness. However, the gang is back together now, and the game is now, actually, truly, progressing nicely once more. Going forward, I'll be able to post much more concrete progress and I think doing so as I write each route is a better choice than posting a bunch of specific completion dates that we may not meet. You'll be able to see our progress as it happens instead.

Notes and Goodies:

Robin's new expressions are in! I love the way he turned out and Arrapso (a fellow perfectionist, err, high achiever) seems happier with him now as well. Awesome! I will post some previews on Tumblr soon, once I have coded a few of the new expressions into the game client.

John's role-playing choice has been re-configured a bit. I was previously calling it "conflict or compromise," but I was getting stuck on the "conflict" part because I didn't want Marion and John to be fighting all the time if you made those choices. It didn't seem like fun, or particularly in-character for John. I am now calling it "challenge or compromise." Because John is kind and wonderful and protective but is also traumatized and stubborn and overprotective. Sometimes he needs to be challenged, and it won't always lead to an argument. I think this makes for more interesting choices and for John to have more room to be John.

I coded in Will's first use of his genuine smile expression (you get to confront him about his attitude early on in Robin's route) and am happy to report that it is SUPER EFFECTIVE.

For any of you Ren'py devs out there, I continue to evangelize matrixcolor. It's relatively new, but you should absolutely check out what it can do. Previously, I used it to tint our characters a bit so they blended in better with evening and night backgrounds. I also used it to sepia-tone memory sequences. I've now used it to make images slowly disappear via transparency and turn our blood animation green instead of red for... spoiler purposes. It is so easy and flexible, you should absolutely play with it!

I'll be reporting in later this month on our Beta test status!

#made marion #made marion dev update #tough stuff #Brains and nervous systems are super duper weird and modern medicine doesn't have a good handle on them yet

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0zzysaurus · 4 days

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My scattered thoughts on Beast Machines - YAPPING below

Here’s the thing tho, Beast Machines has this super awesome early-2000’s cyber tech aesthetic that I just cannot get over, like, Beast Machines feels how the computer room in my old Reception classroom smelled. Like, it fully encompasses that vibe of being at after-school club in the winter time so the school building is dark and the lights keep going off and ur just sucked into Windows XP playing games, and because you’re just a kid and you’re small, the room feels huge, and the light from the monitor and the fire door and the smoke detectors all bounce off the furniture in a weird way — and then you dream about those exact experiences a decade later, and that’s what Beast Machines feels like. — And I love that for this show???

And the scarier bits (because it has a lot of genuinely scary bits) make it feel like a weird nightmare but the kind where you just go along with it. Like, even if I think the story was kinda whatever and the characters were fucking me right off, the music and the art direction go crazy for my computer brain.

It’s like if you looked at a The Best Dance Album in the World… Ever! CD and you could actually go inside the artwork. There’s smth extremely nostalgic there for me that makes me really really like Beast Machines and forgive a LOT of the things that other people dislike about it’s overall style — But I do think it was a slog to get through. Way too many fights that felt pointless and interrupted the flow of the show, music started to get really repetitive, some decent character development here and there but too much bullshit that doesn’t go anywhere. Some characters were introduced way too late to mean anything to me, and some characters just felt completely discarded and underused. The environments also started to really get sore on the eyes, same with a lot of the action effects.

But I’m not MAD at Beast Machines. I cared more about Blackarachnia in this show than I ever did in Beast Wars — in fact, I cared more about RATTRAP in this show than I ever did in Beast Wars. And if you guys haven’t been keeping up, I’m Rattrap’s number one hater. Cheetor and Optimus were pissing me the fuck off, but the closer I got to the end and the more they got their shit together the more I could respect their decision making. Nightscream was a really fun character who I wish had more depth. Rhinox disappointed me badly, I can fully get why people were insanely pissed about Rhinox, because I’m also pissed about it. I got over the alt-modes pretty quickly, and the Beast Modes all kicked ass, so I don’t have anything negative there. I do think occasionally showing us Beast Wars models didn’t help though, seeing Season 1 Cheetor for 12 frames was like a hit of heroin.

It could’ve been a lot worse. I get why people hated it, but I can also see why there are people who love it. I’ll probably go back to it the next time I have edibles in my possession.

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jarofstyles · 11 months

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Beauty and the Beast - Nightshade

The moment you've been waiting for, the answers are here :) sorry this took a literal year (and then some)

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive content!

wc: 6.3k

warnings: not many warnings in this one, just a reference to character's death

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This wasn’t his plan.

Harry never wanted her to see this room. At least, not yet. This was… an escape from his past. One he was slowly starting to try and move on from now that he and his love had finally expressed emotions and been able to give each other the proper reactions… but no.

He had never forbidden her from it, so he couldn’t really be angry. It did flare up in him, mainly because he was scared. Terrified of these memories and his past making her want to leave and forget him because he had held on to it for so long, but nothing was making sense lately. Not a single thing.

The only thing that made sense was how good it felt to hold her. Kiss her. Fuck her. She was what he wanted, and his head had never felt more clear in terms of what he wanted.

Her.

Finding her in the room, shaking like a leaf, he was terrified that she was going to leave. She wasn’t as sneaky as she would like to believe.

He had arrived earlier than he’d planned and as if he had a 7th sense, he heard her leave the bed. The moment she opened this door, however, he sprinted up the stairs.

It seemed… off. To see her in this room. Like it was a long time coming and yet, still a kick in the face. It obviously affected her, and he wasn’t sure how.

“My love?” He approached cautiously, not sure how to handle this fully. Did he touch her? Knock her out of it with his words? Why was she staring into the mirror in such a daze? And why was she shaking? “Beloved… what is wrong?” The rasp of his voice echoed in the large room.

“Do you know her?” Y/N asked, her voice calm despite how her blood ran cold with fear. She was in a daze and everything felt slow. It almost didn’t feel real.

Her eyes were still locked on the figure in the mirror, analyzing each feature as if her life depended on it. Millions of thoughts rushed through her head, meadows and laughter, images of sharing a loaf of fresh bread in secret, swimming in lakes… her focus blurred for a moment, thoughts became memories and her head snapped from the mirror to look at him.

“She…” his voice paused as he tried to word it the right way. She wasn’t yelling yet, which was a decent sign but he also knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

He completely would understand her anger at him for having a room full of a woman that wasn’t her, but he was going to take it down. Move on, because he had her… it just happened so quickly. He had hundreds of years to dwell on the past and only a few months in the future.

“She was why I had believed… that I was going to die.” He cleared his throat. “That was who I believed to be my beloved… and she was taken from me, years ago. I loved her very much. Usually, you die when your beloved does.” The voice in his throat felt rough, still not an easy topic to approach. Let alone to his new lover.

“So I thought… I was slowly losing it. And we lose ourselves to madness eventually, when our beloved are killed. However… all of the madness seems to be gone for me.” He was still confused on how that happened. He could have sworn that she was. But seeing Y/N standing in front of him now… he wasn’t sure at all.

The connection they had felt incredible.

“I’m sorry I’ve kept the things so long. I know it must be difficult to look at.”

“I’ve been seeing her in my dreams for months, Harry…” Y/N spoke, still too startled to express any emotion. “She practically lives in my brain.” She shook her head.

It was an odd feeling. Nothing Y/N could ever explain in words. He had loved her… truly enough to think she was the one. This woman who had been living in the shadows of her mind for months.

It seemed like she was the one going insane, not Harry.

“I’ve seen her at least once every week since I moved here… I feel like she has my eyes— don’t you think?” She asked timidly, swallowing the dryness in her throat to try and make sense of this. “Do you see her in me? Is that how I got here?”

Harry felt his already cold body freeze over.

Months?

“And you haven’t… you haven’t been in here at all?” He questioned wearily. When she shook her head, he swallowed.

Christ.

The vampire was positive there were no other hints of her around the house. This room was the one he came in when he wanted to think about her. It was how he kept sane for a good while. But the idea that she had constantly been seeing her… it startled him.

“I… I never really thought about comparing you to her.” The cool hands cupped her warm face, taking a look. Though, now looking at her… there were some uncanny similarities. The eyes. The lips. He knew them.. for far longer than he had known Y/N. “You are different. In most ways. I never thought of her in you, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re.. a very different person but you share some things. Some phrases… mannerisms. But I never put you both in a mirror.”

He liked her all on his own.

“I don’t know how this is possible.” He tilted her head up and stroked her heated cheek with his thumb, trying to wrack his mind over how it could happen. “Is she… what happens in your dreams, love?” His voice softens immensely, trying to coax out more of her thoughts.

“She doesn’t hurt me or scare me,” Y/N spoke, lips more in a pout now that he was holding her face. “She just… she knows something I don’t and she’s trying to tell me,” Y/N explained and closed her eyes. She needed to ground herself.

Knowing Harry had never compared them brought her a lot of peace. That still didn’t change the fact that it felt like looking into a mirror.

“You spent lots of time with her outside…” Y/N spoke quietly, humming with her eyes still closed. “You would pick her flowers… you swam… she really loved you.”

If it was possible, he knew his heart would stop.

“How do you know that?” He asked, considering just how she knew his antics. How she was aware of the fact that they’d pick flowers and swim and kiss in the sunlight. When he would risk it all to be outside with her because the sunshine made her happy and warm.

“She’s trying to talk to you?” And she wasn’t trying to rip Y/N to pieces? That was unusual for her. Possessiveness was a main personality trait for her and he didn’t mind it at all, but he was curious as to how the hell she didn’t seem to mind if she was inside of her head.

“What is she trying to say, angel?” He placed his forehead on hers. “Hm? Is she just telling you what we used to do?” That would be incredibly peculiar. How was she even communicating with her at all? And how was a human capable of receiving those sorts of messages?

If he didn’t know better, Harry would have assumed she would read his journals. But he knew where she was at all times, and never had the girl ventured into this room or opened a book that didn’t belong to her.

“You went somewhere earlier…” She decided to skip over his comment, choosing rather to focus on how the hell she was recalling this information. “When I woke up Ida said you’d be out for longer—”

The thoughts in her mind seemed to relax and she was able to open her eyes and look at him again.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Y/N searched his eyes for something to hold on to, she felt like she could give him more answers if he was fully transparent with her.

“No more secrets.”

The man took a breath, closing his eyes this time as he tried to figure out just how to explain this part to her.

“Okay. No more secrets.”

His hand took hers and led her towards the velvet green couch, sitting her down on it and sitting far too close next to her. Clasping her smaller hands in his own, he took a moment to compose himself.

“I went to see if I could find the contact information for a witch. Someone who knows far more about the soul-bonding process and could explain to me what had happened, why I was feeling the way I was…” he paused, throat drying slightly as he squeezed her hands. “Why I feel the way I do when I thought we only have one chance at love.”

His green eyes met hers, showing that he genuinely was confused but he cared. He cared for her so much, he loved her. It shouldn’t be possible, but Harry knew what he was feeling.

“You know… I thought maybe I was actually dying. And I wanted to spare you from it. But when I woke up, I knew I had to dig for answers. I couldn’t just allow you to suffer along with me as we had gotten attached. So I went to a frequent spot for the… otherworldly.” He chuckled lightly at the words he used. There probably were better ones, but it would make the most sense to her.

“When she died… I felt myself mourn. I was in so much grief and pain and anger... I've never physically hurt that badly before and yet…” He licked his dark pink lower lip, eyes searching hers. Recognizing bits of them. Now that he was thinking about the connection… It was true.

“I never felt the snap. I never felt… like I was going to die. That's what I’ve always been told. For soul bonds to break, for one of us to have died, the other should have felt the severing. And I never did.”

“Did you meet the witch?” Y/N asked as if that was a normal question for a human to ask a vampire. It seemed like for the time being Y/N wasn’t entirely there at the minute.

She tilted her head and waited for his answer, eyes taking in every bit of his appearance. Y/N had a feeling that he knew something that would make sense of the messages in her head. The feelings she was feeling as her own.

“I… Didn’t.” He grumbled, letting his eyes fall again. Another area where he had failed her. Truly, he wanted to be good to her. He wanted to give her the best and he couldn’t even figure out why he had gone crazy.

“I put in an inquiry. They’re busy people and while I may have a lot of pull in this world, they’re the ones with the answers. I was told I’d have someone show up to give me some, but I didn’t want to pour my story out to a witch that wasn’t going to help.”

He let himself relax slightly as she didn’t seem to get angry at him now. She just looked like she wanted answers… answers that were very valid. He knew he had been a bit of a dick for not giving them to her right away. He should have been transparent but… how?

It was difficult, usually, to work humans into this world. It was actually a bit… strange how well adapted she was.

-500 years prior-

The worst day of Harry’s life had started just like any other.

Summer was quickly coming to a close and while he himself didn’t mind the shift to cooler temperatures and shorter days, his beloved seemed to mourn the summer. Celeste believed that there was nothing that would ever compare to the feeling of dunking yourself into the lake on a warm day. She believed that there was nothing that brought her more tranquillity than gazing up at the stars while the warm humid air hugged her skin. Even when bug bites adorned her legs Summer reminded her that she was still human.

“My darling, wake up. We have to go.” The familiar sleepy voice of her lover woke Celeste from her slumber. With a firm yet gentle shake, she allowed her eyes to flutter open and adjust to the darkness of their cottage. “Please, we haven’t much time.”

The sound of footsteps quickly approaching from outside left Harry in a panic, but he couldn’t let her see. And while he felt Celeste was blissfully unaware of the fate that awaited her, the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Celeste never thought her worst nightmare would actually come true. She had spent years protecting her home and the land around it. Her enchantments attracted nothing but positive light and all those who crossed her path were destined to meet her. All the animals knew they were welcome and always rewarded her for her efforts to enrich their earth. Celeste had spent her whole life here in the forest, only venturing into town when she urgently needed something. It wasn’t safe for witches in town, the common folk were terrified of magic and the creatures and spirits that fed off of them, but it was the job of her and her sisters to keep the city safe from any harm in secrecy.

She had met Harry by chance, she remembered the day so vividly. She stumbled upon him on her way home– She remembered the dazed look in his eyes and the blood on his collar. He looked so ashamed, crying against the back wall of the local bakery. Never had Celeste seen a vampire show so much remorse after feeding, but then again she hadn’t seen many vampires with her own eyes, to begin with. The Vampires upheld their deal of peace and ethics, as long as the witches protected them from the hunters.

The very hunters who were now trying to take her love away from her.

They’d been so careful. She knew that the safest place for Harry to be was with her. But it seemed that even her powers weren’t enough to overcome the evil that possessed humankind. The universe would always find its balance somehow, even in the cruelest of ways.

“Harry, they cannot know– I should not follow you, I fear they will question why I am not in my home at this hour should they find I am not here…” Celeste whispered, motioning down towards the tunnel in her cellar. They had talked about this plan before, but Celeste always knew she could never convince him to go on his own. So she never told him that part of the plan.

“My love, I refuse to leave you here alone–” A shout from the outside left his words to die in his throat. Harry shook his head, taking her wrist and pulling her with him without another word. Harry was cautious. Though he was aware that these men were after him and not his beloved, he couldn’t bring himself to trust those who have brought his kind nothing but shame and suffering. The hunters were everything but fair and if they had any reason to believe she was living with a fugitive, he knew she would be as good as dead.

He had dreams of them running away and rebuilding a home elsewhere, somewhere they could be truly safe. There were vampires who lived in the north who had mastered the art of camouflage. Rumors spread like wildfire saying they were mated and bonded, that they lived with humans who let them feed in a mutual exchange. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, but Harry would give up anything if it meant he could have the life he dreamed of with her. He just needed her there with him.

“My love, they shall not bring me any harm. The tunnel, it will bring you to the lake, you know your way from there. I promise I will find you once they see there is nothing for them to find here.” Celeste’s voice was soft as she reached to smooth the worry away from his brow. “Such a worry wort.” She giggled though she knew her fate was much to worry about. There could only be one reason the hunters would be suspicious of her. If her enchantments broke, it meant the fates had decided it was their time. Celeste, however, would never give him up, she knew he would wait for her forever. No, she could and would not let them find him.

Harry’s head turned quickly as he saw an orange glow begin to creep through the windows. He chose to be selfish in the little time he had left, pressing a kiss so full of love and longing that he hoped that it would somehow change her mind. The way her lips melded over his with a hunger she only saved for their most intimate moments, he swore they would be etched in his mind forever. He knew she wouldn’t let up.

“You must find me.” Harry breathed, his words a command as he pressed another desperate kiss to her lips. “My love, you are the only thing worth living for.” He hesitated, not wanting to leave this precious moment in fear that it would be their last.

With each second, he could hear the footsteps growing closer and closer, his eyes memorizing her form till he couldn’t anymore. A final stolen kiss was all he left for her as he disappeared into the cellar and ran like hell.

He shouldn’t have left her there, he knew that now.

In a sick and twisted way, he thanked the gods for sparing him the piercing sounds of her screams as she begged for mercy, for when he returned, the bloodied sight left him feeling hollow. She put up a fight, the way he always knew she would, but it seemed that the hunters came with no remorse. How could they claim that they were ridding the town of evil when they had done such cruel and horrible things to the purest creature he had ever known?

“It should have been me.” He thought, swallowing down thick tears, but as he looked around he realized that this evil would not have stopped at him.

-end of flashback-

He hadn’t taken the death of Celeste well.

He had avenged her the best he could. Ripped the hearts out of every single person he could trace to her death, letting them die the way he felt every day without her. It felt like he had little to no emotion, feeling only pain when he woke up.

It continued like that for years until he became comfortably numb. Still questioning why and how. Living without her was worse than any death, worse than anything he had ever could have imagined. But there was always this little light that never fully smothered. Her voice in the back of his mind saying she would find him again. His own recurring dreams that he figured were just a comfort to his psyche. The hope.

Once he met Y/N though? It had gone away. Completely. No more dreams. Almost any yearning was gone. He felt like a patch had been placed on the gaping wound and it had made him feel very, very guilty at first until he realized that maybe she would want him to be happy.

Y/N was so familiar. Like a piece of him in her that had stolen his breath when she had walked into the estate. Sure, she resembled Celeste more than some others did but she was her own person. He had fallen for her knowing that.

Y/N’s thoughts were running wild in her mind, attempting to connect the pieces of the story that she herself didn’t know. The longer she looked around the room the calmer came over her body where normally she’d expect rage and sorrow. Another woman adorned his walls, but Harry was only really focusing on her.

“Y/N tell me what you’re thinking of. I wish you would have told me about these dreams sooner, but there isn’t much we can do now except wait for–” Harry’s sentence was cut off by a knock on the door.

“Sir, someone is here to see you–” Ida began her introduction, but the woman behind her seemed to feel right at home.

“Oh goodness!” The woman exclaimed, stopping to take a look around the room. She didn’t look to be that old, but her spirit was far older than Harry and Y/N both. “I had a feeling you’d honor my sister, but with such commitment? I see the fates wanted some entertainment. Bless your no longer beating heart.” She smiled, placing a hand over her heart before approaching the two. “My dear, how are you finding your new body? It’s good to see you again. I’ve been awaiting your call.”

“What?” Y/N blinked at the woman, cocking her head as she tried to figure out why she looked so familiar. How did she know her? Where did she know her from?

Oh god.

This was not the way he wanted it to go- nor did he fully understand what exactly was happening. His brows furrowed, tucking Y/N into his body in slight protection as he stood up straighter, keeping a hand on her. As if she would slip away.

“Harry? What is she talking about?” Her voice peeped behind him, her hand tangled in his shirt. A resounding ache echoed in his chest as he stared at the witch.

Astrid.

Celeste’s sister. One for who Harry harbored a lot of resentment for not warning them. For not protecting his beloved back then. She had been somewhat nonchalant. Telling Harry that Celeste would meet him in another life. Her lack of care had ruined their goodwill, making Harry feel as though she didn’t fucking care that the love of his life - well, past? It confused them- was gone.

“I don’t know, darling.” His grip on her was firm, making Astrid scoff.

“Calm down, Fangs. I’m not going to hurt my sister… though- I have a feeling based on the incredibly confused faces, you haven’t actually figured it all out yet?” She laughed, shaking her head as she tried to peek around Harry. “Should probably listen to messages all the way through- just got excited to see her again. Tell me.” She paused, growling slightly when Harry kept her from view. “What’s your name in this life, sister? What did you choose? Y/N or Violeta?”

Y/N felt her heart drop to her stomach, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat before attempting to speak.

“How did you– Y/N. My name is Y/N.” Y/N looked between Astrid and Harry, waiting for one of them to tell her what on earth was going on. It seemed Harry was hesitant to accept the help of this woman, but she knew her name. “What is going on?” While her heart was beating a million miles a minute, she tried her best to sound strong. She was angry that Harry once again was hiding something from her, he clearly knew this woman and this woman knew him.

“Darling, I feel as though this is something you should take on with your… well since you haven't bonded I’m not sure what he is to you.” Astrid chuckled, “Always cautious you are, Harry. So respectful of my sister, but still haven’t learned to trust now did you?” She smirked seeing the anger flare through Harry’s expression. “No need to get angry at the truth, Harry. You mustn’t lie to the girl any more than you have.”

“Look, if you came here to laugh in our faces, you might as well make your way out.” Y/N felt her jaw clenching. “I’ve been having dreams of this woman since I’ve stepped foot in this home, your sister? You think I’m her?” Y/N asked in a pointed tone, she refused to have any more time wasted.

“I didn’t lie.” He snarled, baring fangs. He didn’t want to make this any more painful or weird than it already was for them! “I wasn’t sure. That is why I called to ask!”

“Blah, blah. Harry, you’re dense. Y/N- I apologize if that’s how it seems. Harry and I have always had our differences since your passing.”

Y/N blinked.

What?

What?!

“I know you are. It’s adding up.” She began softly, lowering her tone. The poor thing didn’t actually know, and Celeste was trying to pop through and this humanity she had been raised with was something that was trying to push it back. “The dreams you’ve been having aren’t dreams. They’re memories.” She sat on the armchair opposite where they were standing. Astrid was overly comfortable and it made Harry irritated, but Y/N could feel a seedling of fondness creep into her tummy.

It felt like she knew her.

“When Celeste died- I saved her soul.” She began, kicking her feet up on the table. “She- aka, you- always had an issue fitting in. It’s why she was targeted. A vampire and a witch… everyone could see it. Harry was struggling at the time, still adjusting to coming into vampiric adulthood. You both were so in love, you couldn’t see that people were noticing things. The way she never got sick, the things she could conjure up… it was incredible for the time period.” Astrid rolled her eyes slightly.

“And Harry? He abused conjuring. He got whatever he wanted whenever you batted those long eyelashes. Whipped to the tenth degree.”

Harry winced because as crude as she sounded… she wasn’t wrong.

“Two fools in love. I found out too late about the plans. I couldn’t save your physical form- but I saved your soul. Unfortunately…” she had the grace to look a bit bashful.

“Someone stole it. Vanessa- she had always been jealous of you and Harry. She had broke through an enchantment and stole the bottle I had your soul in. I got it back only a bit ago. That’s why it took so long. And Harry, here.” She gave him a glare. “Ignored my letters for a good few centuries. Rude.”

It was all a bit much to take in.

Y/N wasn’t sure what she was expecting, after all, it did involve vampires and witches. This certainly wasn’t on her list.

“So, you have my soul?” Y/N asked as if it was normal. As if she had any idea of how she ended up here. This whole time she thought she was her own person but this was a part of her. It didn’t make any sense, there was still a piece missing to the puzzle.

“Well, when I got it back, I drove up north because it seems all the bloodsuckers moved— and I released it.” Astrid continued, “About… say how old are you?”

“Almost 23.” Y/N swallowed, noticing how Astrid seemed pleased at her answer.

“23 years ago sounds about right.” Astrid hummed, “You know Harry, you should be thankful I brought her so close to you— who knows what would have happened had I not come up here.” It was clear that she was teasing, just getting the vampire riled up for her own entertainment.

“Any who… If Harry had opened my letters, he would have heard all about it. I’m glad you two found each other, I know how deeply you care for him… always knew you’d try to outsmart the fates— but you better not mess about this time!”

“Astrid.” He growled, feeling the rage inside of him brewing. “This is not funny.”

“I mean.” She waved her hand. “It’s a little funny. You’ve got each other now, don’t you? She isn’t gonna stick out so much. I figured you’d have that stick out of your arse since you’ve gotten her back butttttt…”

“You could have rang! Found me! Told me so I didn’t live in misery all these years. Of course, I’m ecstatic she is back, but you played me. Made me think there wasn’t a chance.”

Y/N could see him bristling, stiff as a board, with hair standing up on the back of his neck. Truly, he looked a bit monster like as she looked at his bared fangs and the veins that blackened beneath his eyes.

Her favorite show hadn’t been too far off.

“Harry.” She whispered, placing her hand on his chest. “Please. You’ve got to relax. I’m upset too. I’m confused. But getting combative isn’t going to give us answers.” She wasn’t afraid of him. Despite what most humans would feel, Y/N wasn’t worried about him hurting her. He would never. His hands were meant to nurture her. Soothe her. Pleasure. Not hurt.

Harry felt the warmth of her hand on his chest, the stiffness of his body relaxed a little. The veins and fangs remained, but his gaze softened as it laid on her.

“I’m sorry.” He gently pulled her to lean into his side, hand cupping the back of her head and letting her be pulled into his embrace. “I know you don’t like to see me like that.”

Harry was confused, because despite Celeste’s soul being inside of her… he fell in love with Y/N.

Her laugh, her giggle, her cinnamon sugar toast. Her painting, her cadence, and the way she preferred rubies to diamonds. The way her hair fell into her face even when she placed it up into that sleepy, messy bun. Her stories from school and how she always wanted to save any animal she saw outside.

It wasn’t just Celeste’s soul, but the personality she had gained here.

“She said she’d find you did she not?” Astrid asked with a chuckle, “and she’s here! You should be thanking me! It’s your own fault you haven’t bonded with her yet.” She rolled her eyes, though the sight of her sister in her new form warmed her heart.

She was different now— it seemed that the time in limbo had done her some good. Y/N seemed more free, almost innocent, it felt like she had found herself again. That sweet little girl that found joy in the peculiar, had found her way back home.

“Look, it’s quite simple— you love each other no? Harry, if you weren’t such a coward you would have already figured all of this out but it seems I must spell it out for you.” The woman grumbled as she stood up to leave.

“Celeste is alive and well, she’s found a home in Y/N’s soul the day she was born. Of course, they aren’t the same person, but when Celeste died her essence got a fresh start in her.” She started, looking between the two. “The second you bond with her, her memories will come back— but it won’t be Celeste. Unfortunately, well I guess fortunately for you, unless I recovered her body I wouldn’t be able to resurrect her fully. But she lives on within Y/N.”

Y/N was at a loss for words.

It was a bit disheartening, to think that her whole existence was just merely a part of some witch's plan for immortality. But if Astrid was telling the truth and that she was just a part of her, then it couldn’t be so bad right?

Surely it would hurt to see Harry get excited about seeing parts of Celeste in her, but if she was her then surely not? it all seemed a bit confusing. She wasn’t sure how it would work, but she was scared, to say the least.

“I….” He swallowed.

It was complicated. A weird mix of relief for finally having her back with him, but sadness because he knew how this was going to look to Y/N. The situation was quite literally one that had never happened in history books before.

“I fell in love with her. As much as Celeste will always be a part of me… I’m a little bit confused.” He turned slightly to Astrid. “She’s going to be… she will be aware of those memories?” He tried to soothe Y/N, his smooth hands running down her back but he could feel the unease oozing off of her.

“Oh, yes. But it doesn’t have to be complicated. Y/N, you’ve always been a bit confused about the missing pieces, haven’t you? Why you always feel as though Harry is so familiar to you? He’s literally made for you. Your body is a different vessel, but you’re still having the same feelings. It’s always been right.” Astrid paused, thinking of a good example.

“It’s why when you first moved in and Harry was probably his cold self and kept you at an arms length, it probably hurt, didn’t it? You felt a bit weird internally but shut it down because you’ve always been a bit too rational. Knowing you didn’t have a ‘right’ to feel upset but you did. It’s your old memories, old feelings. Harry wasn’t one to ever skimp on attention so it probably felt odd.”’

Y/N wasn’t going to bother asking how or why she knew that. It seemed that Y/N was just better off keeping to her ignorant bliss. Astrid had proved to both of them she knew far more about this than they did and she wasn’t going to fight— especially when they knew nothing about this soul bonding process on their own.

“I-I… if you’re saying I’m Celeste then are you saying I’m a witch as well?” Y/N asked curiously, though, she was uncertain about how she would feel about her answer. It was entirely possible. Were there rules she had to follow? Was there anything she had to do once she came into those powers?

Y/N was overwhelmed, to say the least, allowing herself to fully lean on Harry for support. She felt like this new information called for a long nap and a delicious meal immediately after she woke up. Nuzzling her face against Harry’s side she closed her eyes, waiting for Astrid’s answer. She didn’t care if she was being rude. Poor girl was feeling a bit lightheaded.

His cold body was a relief to the flush of heat that was through her at all of the intense information she had just received. She could have moaned as he placed his hand on the hot skin at the back of her neck, clutching onto him in a way that made the vampire a bit stressed.

“Yes. You absolutely are. Come on, girl. Do you really think that people can get things as easily as you? The manifesting thing on steroids? The things you chant to make yourself feel better…” Astrid laughed at the pure ignorance. The poor thing had been blissfully ignorant of everything up until now. “The powers are mostly dormant, I’m assuming. Considering you haven’t burnt the place down with rage, my sister, you have been held back. My assumption is that when Dracula bites you, the powers will start to come back as the bond strengthens.” She could feel Harry blinking at her, making her toss her hands up in a ‘whatever’ gesture. “I’ve done my reading. Deducing. Much better than that Sherlock did.”

He hadn’t known this would be the outcome and he had mixed feelings about it all. His old love was his new love, vice versa. He felt like his feelings were a betrayal to both of them.

The good thing was, though, his beautiful Y/N wouldn’t age the way a human would. She could truly be with him. It would be a matter of the soul mate bond snapping back into place instead of this constant edging between their souls and hearts.

“Fates.” Harry closed his eyes, massaging the back of Y/N’s neck soothingly. “Alright. Astrid- get out of my house. She’s feeling faint. Stay around the area, I’ll need you to return or at the very least, send one of your own to help her soon. She needs to be aware before I bond her fully.” He wanted Y/N to choose. Not just the older part of her soul.

“Alright, alright… but don’t wait too long, you don’t want to her find dead one morning.” Astrid sighed, half joking but there was some truth to it. Now that she was aware of the fates plan, there was only so much time left for them to decide. “You’ll know where to find me.” With a wave of her hand, Astrid was out the door.

Y/N was far too in her own mind to have heard her last comment, but Harry heard it crystal clear. While he may be a vampire, he was no stranger to the way the fates worked.

The fates were fair and just— it was their job to maintain balance here on earth, both for humans and the supernatural. At times their job led to making harsh decisions, if anyone broke the laws of the universe then they would see their fate flash before them.

Harry had never met someone as pure and kind as Y/N surely she was on the fates good side. He simply couldn’t see Celeste in her the way it seemed Astrid could. Though he loved Celeste dearly, he knew that their relationship was bound to end in a bloody disaster— he’d expected himself to be the one to break but the fates clearly had other plans.

Y/N let out a shaky breath against his shirt, clinging to him to find some stability. She needed to ground herself.

She needed to lay down.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles blurb #one direction one shot #one direction fanfic #one direction smut #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction #one direction blurb

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essektheylyss · 1 year

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World Wizard Entertainment: After Hours

I did want to write a little thing now that I am done making a vicious mockery of Vince McSam, because this was really a WILD week and I do love a debrief.

Honestly, when I sat down to make a bracket last week, I was not committed to posting it, I was not going to make any graphics, and I definitely was not planning to run a tournament.

....Obviously that changed, but you already know that.

Really I just wanted to figure out how hard it would be to properly seed a tournament in fandom. I've already talked about that elsewhere so I won't get into it, but when you're building a tournament, you want it seeded for intrigue in later rounds, even if round one match-ups are very lopsided.

But once I had it, I was thinking about how different polls have gone in the past. Specifically, I had written a post during some earlier polls with Laerryn and Essek competing that was commenting, you know, if we're talking duel, Essek loses, 100%. He'd have a prayer in hell of winning, and there are no gods here or whatever. And the poll in which Laerryn and Essek were matched up, which Aabria made a very funny joke about, wasn't even a wizard poll! It was just sexiest character or something. But the thing is, a lot of polls have been really vague about what criteria to vote on, and there's a reason for that! A lot of polls like that are going to have an obvious winner. And because of how these spread, you are going to have a lot of people voting purely on popularity or name recognition, including plenty of people who are not super engaged in fandom since there are lots of lurkers (and we love them! hi, lurkers!), and also random people outside the fandom who just vote on any poll, so you have to account for that.

But we have polls now, and fandom is fun and chaotic, so I wondered... could you game it for an unexpected result?

I cannot turn down a challenge once I've come up with it for myself, so at that point, I actually built a tournament.

For a lot of the week, in all but the most meaningless and random of situations, I thought the answer was no! We got Ludinus kicked in the first round, which I mostly did to stir up a little drama, because round one was pretty calm and quiet.

By the quarterfinals, it got tougher. At that point there were more folks engaging, but a lot of the tags were, "Didn't we already decide this?" and I was like, well, no one is watching March Madness year after year going, "Well, Gonzaga* is the best and that's decided I guess," (except maybe Gonzaga fans, but knowing some of them, they are really serious about their basketball). They're there because there's chance involved. A great team can lose to an underdog in an early upset. Also, there's always the bracket contest, which is another layer of gamification that adds some interest. (Sidebar, can you tell yet that I wrote a paper on gamification when applying to grad school? Lulz.) But like I've mentioned, fandom polls are highly stacked to be popularity contests. How do you introduce some chance and intrigue?

As it turns out, you call the Veth stans, which I sure wouldn't have guessed, so I'm glad they turned up anyway.

But in all seriousness, with a poll like this, it's really not about deciding who is The Wizard. (For the record, with my url fully visible, the answer is absolutely Laerryn Coramar-Seelie. She is seeded first for a reason!) It's about seeing if you can be weird and wacky enough, or maybe just heartfelt and sincere enough, to turn the tide of what's expected. But it's only fun if it's collaborative.

And here's where I say it all comes back to collaborative narrative and storytelling, because when does it not with me, but seriously—I seeded Veth pretty high because she was a PC, but wasn't sure if she was going to hold that far through the polls. By the time she was, I wasn't asking, "Why is Veth beating Yussa, the most no-brain cell wizard in the northern Exandrian hemisphere, with one wizard level?" It was clear that the Veth fans had decided to make this their mission.

So I do hope the takeaway, based on everyone making content and giving speeches and doing a fun kayfabe, is that you can make a really interesting and fun tournament by committing to the bit. You have to get ridiculous and you have to stick with it, but that's... really what fandom is. It's really not about "is my fave gonna win," and it's honestly not even about who wins (you may have noticed that the winner section of my results post is... small, which is intentional), it's about building a little story together.

And I'm really glad we all did that. I feel like I need to go around and do a virtual 'good game' high five to the Veth stans, and the Caleb stans, and Aabria herself, and everyone who wrote in defense of someone and put on a kayfabe and ran with a bit, because it really was a fun roller coaster of a tournament.

And if you didn't join in this week, but kind of wanted to, I hope the next time someone runs a tournament you just go for it! I was also a lot more timid about fandom participation as a teen, but honestly, if you are really excited about, I don't know, Realmseer Eskil (who is super cool by the way), don't take it too seriously and write an overwrought defense of them! Make a funny meme! Be sporting about it, come up with the most ridiculous reason you can name to vote for them, and run with it.

(Also, my other takeaway is that it is really easy to ape the overblown wrestling host voice. Please do it, it's literally so funny.)

#*please note I do not know if gonzaga is first seed this year but I do not care. I am not a basketball fan.#world wizard entertainment #this is when I take off my 'overblown bit' hat and put on my 'cheerful but tired TA' hat #unfortunately '17 bits in a trench coat' is more accurate of a commentary on myself than it has any right to be #this may not remain rebloggable but for now it will stay.

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callmeana2310 · 2 years

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Old Friends (Pt. 2/?) - College!Nick Nelson x female!Reader

Parts : Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Pairing: College!Nick Nelson x female!Reader

Warnings: light cussing, LGBTQAI+, non-native in English! (Lemme know any mistakes, especially if anything is offensive in the slightest ways!!!)

Topics: friendship, crush, old friends meet again, college, bisexuals, music, soft, young adults, growing up, cute cuddly Nick Nelson

Summary: After years the reader meets Nick Nelson at a LGBTQAI+ college party. They knew each other from Truham and Higgs and (Y/N) remembers her crush on him.

Word count: 1,851

Note: This is for the 20+ gang who also loved Heartstopper. Nick is in his mid 20s and the reader in her early 20s!

(not my picture. All rights belong to the owner.)

Old Friends - All Grown Up

Shortly after leaving the party, my phone vibrates. A message on Instagram. It is Nick. To my surprise, he is still following me and he asks me to check in with him when I get home safely. I bite my lower lip, trying to hide the huge smile. "What's up with the smiley face Y/N/N?", Nicole asks. "Nothing! That party was just great...", I mumble the last sentence. "Uh-uh! She means that hot redhead was great. But you can thank me later for dragging you to that party!", Emily laughs. "I know him from before University... we are...just old friends", I defend myself. The girls laugh, in unison. "Just friends, huh? I don't believe that!", says Emily. They pick on me for a little longer until they are distracted by a group of people walking by we know. I keep quiet for the rest of the way and say goodbye when we arrive at my flat. I make my way up to the third floor, unlock the door, kick off my shoes, put my hair up in a bun and immediately head for the fridge grabbing a cool drink and some grapes. My social battery is dead for now. I sit down on my kitchen floor opening Instagram, again, smiling like an idiot.

Nick Nelson

Hi you! Let me know when you're home safe?

Y/N Y/L/N

Hi! I'm home now 😮‍💨 Are you still at the party?

Nick Nelson

Nah, left shortly after you were gone!

It was really lovely to see you again ☺️

Hope we'll see each other on campus..

Y/N Y/L/N

Let me know when you're home safe? 😁

tbh? I'd be mad if we don't!

Gonna have a word with Darcy and Tara! Can't believe they never said anything!

Nick Nelson

Right?! What did I do?🥺

Cheesy! I'm home now 😝

Y/N Y/L/N

Idk must have done something!🤷🏻‍♀️

That's great! I'm heading to bed now. Sleep well xx

Nick Nelson

Yeah, me too. Goodnight ☺️

I only saw the last message as a notification on my lock screen while walking to the bathroom. I get rid of my clothes, put on a large sleeping shirt, and battle my hair once again before washing my make-up off and then heading for my bedroom, throwing myself at the bed. I take my phone and read Nick's last message again. I haven't thought about high school or him in a long time. Sure, when seeing Tara and Darcy we're reminiscing about the "good old days" every now and then, but we barely do that anymore. I finished high-school four years ago but after that, my life changed so drastically that it feels way further into the past. The first year after high school I stayed home with my parents, worked for some time and then travelled around Europe for quite some time. Then, two years ago, I started studying here at the University and therefore officially moved out.

I softly shake my head, trying to think of something else. I turn off my lights, crawl under the blanket and make sure to turn off all my alarms so I can just sleep in. After starting some light instrumental music with a timer which stops the music in two hours, I put my phone away and try to find a comfy position to sleep in. Closing my eyes I feel it spinning, I quite had some drinks. Hoping the spinning might lull me into sleep, but my thoughts prevent that. My brain feels the urge to get updated on Nick's life. How is his family? Nellie? Whom is he still friends with? Who are his new friends? What music is he into? Before my brain can fully spiral in those thoughts I give in and open Insta again. I avoid opening his last message but I go on his profile and scroll through his pictures and get some answers to the previous questions. Silly little girl stalking her old crush... After a while, I feel my eyes falling shut a few times and before I could know I am asleep.

Wednesday - 4 days after the party

"Ugggh! This is so boring!", I groan very quietly. Lily next to me looks at me in disbelief. "Don't be so loud! They'll kick us out if you're rude!", she hisses at me. I laugh softly, "By now I really wish they'd finally do it..." All my friends around me laugh as quietly as possible, but our professor in the front still shoots us a warning glance. I really try to focus on what is being said in the front, but it is impossible. First lectures at the beginning of a semester are always the same; the professors tell stories about their time at university, they rant about how undisciplined and lazy a lot of students are, then they read out their syllables and go back to ranting. My phone vibrates.

Nick Nelson

Where are you spending your lunchtime?

The menu in the cafeteria is horrible!🤢

Y/N Y/L/N

The menu today is shit!

We're gonna eat at the Chinese restaurant down the street!

Nick Nelson

Is that place good?

Y/N Y/L/N

😍HELL YES! BEST FRIED RICE IN TOWN!

You wanna come? I'm sure the girls won't mind!

Nick Nelson

Sure! You had me at "fried rice"!🤤

Y/N Y/L/N

😂😂😂

Meet me at the main entrance of the philology department

Lecture is done in 40mins

Nick Nelson

🙌🏻 I'll see you in 40!

I look up from my phone, trying to catch up with what is being said. "Did you win the Lottery? Are de finally redeemed? Let's leave!" I hear Vivian to my right site. "What?", I whisper without looking at her. "You smiled at your phone like crazy!", she says while nudging me with her elbow. "Was I?" Lily on the other side laughs a little too loud. We ear another glance. "Hell yes! Are you writing with that hot redhead again?", Lily whispers cautiously while making sure our professor doesn't get disturbed by her again. I roll my eyes in response. "So it is him!", Vivian exclaims. "He has a name. And yes, I was texting him... He'll join us for lunch. But I wasn't smiling.." Emily who sits behind me bends over "The hot rugby guy? Is he joining us? Hell yes!" I laugh slightly over their reactions. Oh lord!

After 40 minutes which felt like hours, we finally leave the lecture hall, gathering outside and exchanging numbers for study groups. I look around to find Nick. A bit further away I see him walking towards us, his right hand reaches up to wave at me. "Nick!" I shout the moment I see him wandering around the space in front of my lecture hall, waving to make sure he sees us. "He had a bi bracelet, right?" Lily asked waving too, "How do you know the rugby captain?". "We went to school together", I reply. Nick arrives with a big smile on his face. "Hi!", he says while hugging me. "Hi" I mumble while enjoying his warm hug. I see the glances of my girlfriends while we part. He turns to the group, waving at them and greeting them all at once. "So... Where's that magical place you told me about?" he asks while turning back to me. "Just follow us handsome!" one of my friends responds. Nick chuckles slightly. I gesture him to follow her lead, laughing about his slightly flushed face. Nothing changed...

"How's the first week back at campus going?", Nick asks while we wait to be seated. "The usual... lecturers trying to explain how studying works... without really knowing the requirements" I groan. He laughs at my statement. "Yeah... I'm in my 7th semester now and they still do that!" "Whyyy tho?" He just shrugs his shoulders in response.

The moment we sit down my friends attack him with questions. I mostly just listen to the conversation because I know most of the answers. Vivian suddenly laughs loudly grabbing everyone's attention. "Omg! Y/N! Nick! You were so cute back then!" "Huh?", Nick and I both look at her. She turns her phone so we can see old newspaper articles about our school sports days. The other girls try to get a good look too. They look at us, comparing us now and then. I slowly sink into my seat. Nick just laughs and earns compliments. I mean, he literary only looks younger and slimmer. Whereas I look like kids looked back in the 2010s. I had small, very unflattering glasses; braids on both sides, my hair stuck up in every direction, my head was red from the exercise in the early summer heat and I wore old, weird and way too small clothes. "Girl! You had the glow-up of the century! You looked terrible!" one of the girls laughs. "Well.. thanks..." I snip back at her. Nick looks at me, softly shaking his head at the comments, giving me a cheering smile. The waiter bringing our food saved me from further comments and the topic is off the table for now. The girls continue attacking him with questions, this time about his rugby career and his studies. I focus on my food, trying to stand above the rather hurtful comments from before.

Part of the group left directly after they finished their lunch since they had classes afterwards. The rest of us leaves the restaurant together. "Sooo! This was fun! We should definitely do this again!" Lily smiles at Nick. "Yeah...sure", he nods. "We are going downtown, will you come?" Vivian asks. "Nah... I need some stuff from the library. Have fun" he denies their request with a polite smile. "I'm heading in the same direction! See ya!" I say before saying goodbye to them. Nick and I walk back to campus, not talking much, but the silence isn't awkward at all. He starts giggling "Fuck! What year were those pictures from? Can we sue the schools?" I laugh at his question. "I wish! That picture of me is a crime!" "I mean, it is so 2010s but it is also very cute!" he claims, looking at me with wrinkles around his eyes since he is smiling so brightly. I automatically smile back at him before shaking my head in disagreement. "No! That's as far from cute as possible!" I pause for a moment, before continuing "But honestly? I haven't thought about my school time like that in a long time." He nods "Yeah, crazy times! I miss home and the old times sometimes.." I shrug, "I like it here too much to miss home." We arrive at the library. "My books are on the third floor", I explain. "Mine are on the fourth", Nick says and smiles. "I guess I'll see you?", I ask. "You definitely will", he says while pulling me in for a hug. I hug him back, again, enjoying his warmth.

'Cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be And in your heat I feel how cold it can get Hold me in this wild, wild, world - Warmth, Bastille

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