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mint-yooxgi · 4 months

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{3} - Fight or Flight - Yandere!Redcap!Mingi X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Fae!AU & Yandere!AU - Part of the CoDN Thrill of the Hunt Collab

Genre: Fantasy, Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Words: 9,085

Rating: Mature - 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Please read the warnings carefully, as this is a very heavy story dealing with many dark topics. This is also all of the warnings for this fic as it is one long one shot that I had to split into multiple parts, and I'm too tired right now to individually categorize all of these warnings to their respective parts. 8 ft tall Mingi. Slow burn. Violence: depiction of a massacre, a deer being slaughtered, as well as physical, verbal, sexual, and emotional, both alluded to and not. Blood and gore. Abuse: physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual, both alluded to and implied. Assault: physical, and sexual, both alluded to, implied, and attempted. OC has a really rough past, really this isn't for the faint of heart. Whipping, both alluded to, and done. Mentions of branding. Heavy themes of possession and ownership. Deception. Arson. Really, there's a lot of dark subject matter. Mingi falls hard and fast, thus, he simps a lot for the OC, but it's not a story written by me if Mingi doesn't simp for the OC. The reader is mentioned to be both tall and chubby, but it is not mentioned often, so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story when ready if you are not tall and/or chubby. I think that's everything, but if I missed something, please let me know! Smut: Biting/marking, outdoor sex, fingering (fem. rec), oral (fem. rec), hand job (male rec), come eating, overstimulation, Mingi has a dig bick, sex in a spring, really, it's very soft in comparison to the subject matter. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

P.S. If there are any spelling or grammatical errors, please ignore them. I did my best through many rounds of editing, but some are liable to still slip through.

A/n: I am SO sorry this took me LITERALLY forever to complete. I meant to have this out so much earlier, and actually posted on time, but it turned out much, much longer than I ever anticipated it being. I'm really proud of how this story turned out, and I didn't want to split it into multiple parts because I felt it would take away from the story as a whole. I'm super excited for you all to read this one, as I had a tremendous amount of fun writing it, and I really hope you all love Mingi's and OC's journey as much as I do. Huge shoutout and thanks to @anyamaris and @kwanisms for listening to me ramble and rave about this story both before and during the writing process, and for always encouraging me while writing! Also, huge thank you to @sanjoongie for being so patient and understanding with me as I write this all out in full. I hope you all enjoy! As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Out of one horrible situation and into another, the cycle of abuse never stops. You've lived with monsters your whole life. So, what's one more?

P.P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two

You were wrong.

Not only is this redcap the most infuriating fae possible, but he has no tact when it comes to handling you. Clearly, he’s never dealt with humans before, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. Every chance he gets, he’s shoving you around, pulling you harshly to your feet and snapping at you to ‘get a move on’ if you’re not moving at a quick enough pace for him.

Gone is the almost surreal atmosphere of peace the morning had brought you. Instead, as evening shifts into night, only irritation seems to fill the silence between the two of you. Whether he’s upset at himself for relating to a human or not is unbeknownst to you. All you do know is that he seems to dislike you more than he did the previous day.

“Are you done yet?” His voice cuts through the gentle sounds of the pond you’re currently bathing in.

Your head turns to stare at his back, noticing he stands a better guard than Windfel ever did. Not once did this fae turn around even to toy with you. Truly, he kept his word about being respectful about this kind of stuff, and for that, you should be grateful. Only, a creeping sense of dread begins to sink into your bones.

Slowly, you begin to make your way out of the pond, not quite feeling as refreshed as you should. The constant pounding of your heart within your chest reminds you that you’re still alive, and as you pull on the new clothes, you cannot keep your hands from shaking.

“Have you finished? I need to wrap your wound.” His arms are crossed over his chest, that much you can tell.

“I can do it myself.” Comes your somewhat sharp reply, looking around for where he put that roll of bandages he scavenged from a nearby town.

“No, you’re going to do it wrong.” He sighs, beginning to tap his foot against the ground. “I don’t want your wound getting infected again and slowing us down even further.”

Your features pull into a scowl. One which you are grateful he cannot see at the moment. You remain silent, tugging the loose shirt over your head once dry enough to do so. Only a grunt is given to acknowledge he can turn to face you, one which he seemingly immediately understands.

“Sit down.” He commands, walking over to you with another leaf filled with fresh paste in his one hand.

You comply, barely holding back your grumble of discontent. “Yes, General.”

The fae lets out a sharp breath through his nose, kneeling beside you on the ground. He says nothing as he begins to apply the paste over your now healing wound.

The cut on your leg is doing tremendously better in such a short amount of time. No longer does it crust at the edges, and the swelling has gone down significantly. There’s a small scab that rests over the deepest part of the cut, but the edges are much fainter than before, almost scar like in appearance. Sure, it still aches, but it’s nowhere near as horrendous or as infected as it once was.

Carefully, he spreads the paste over your cut. You notice his claws have retracted once more, and though he’s focussing intently on what he’s doing, he isn’t all that gentle. At one particular point, he adds a bit too much pressure to his fingers over the worst part of your cut, and you flinch.

A sharp hiss escapes you before you can stop yourself, and he removes his hand.

He says nothing as he discards of the leaf this time, reaching over to grab the roll of bandages. Wordlessly, he slides his one hand beneath your knee, tugging it upwards without warning.

Your initial response is to scold him, but given how close he is to you right now, combined with the fact that he is treating your wound, you don’t want to give him an opportunity to attack you. If he’s this good with treating them, then obviously he’s even better at causing them. Besides, there are ways he could torment you with the worst pain imaginable, all while making sure to still keep you alive.

It’s not like that hasn’t happened before. You would know.

There is no time, nor opportunity for you to be embarrassed right now. True to his word, he barely takes his eyes from your wounded leg the whole time he treats it. No roaming hands. No snide remarks, or suggestive comments about anything.

Whether he takes notice of the other scars lining your legs is unbeknownst to you, for he doesn’t comment on a single one. Instead, his brow is furrowed in concentration, his hands moving roughly around your thigh as he wraps the bandage around your wound. It’s almost as if he’s working subconsciously, letting his muscles repeat the monotonous motion of covering your wound without thinking. Almost as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

In the back of your mind, you begin to wonder about him. What was his past like? How did he learn to treat wounds this well? Is he truly as terrifying as you’ve been led to believe?

You catch yourself, blinking a few time to clear your vision. These are not things you should concern yourself with. You need to worry about yourself, and only yourself right now.

Looking back at the fae, you notice that his eyes are glazed. Still, he stares intently down at your thigh. You can tell he’s not paying attention, for he bandages your thigh too tightly, tying it off without a second thought.

“It’s too tight.” A blunt comment which seems to snap him out of his thoughts.

“No, it’s not.” He clicks his tongue, standing back to his feet. “Quit complaining, and let’s get a move on. I’ve already wasted enough time waiting for you today.”

“Isn’t it dangerous for me to travel at night?” You remark, tugging the fresh pair of pants over your legs as he walks over to the tree line.

“Not with me, it’s not.” Comes his gruff reply as he begins to stalk deeper into the woods. “Keep up. I’m not stopping if you fall behind.”

Without another word, and with a deep sigh, you take off after him. That stem of red spider lilies you still have with you gets hastily tucked back into your pants pocket. Despite the petals wilting every day, you cling onto it. It means too much to you, and the fact that you were able to find a single stem in the wild still makes your head spin.

Your favourite flower, come to bring you home.

Surprisingly, you manage to keep pace with the fae quite well. You can tell he’s not travelling at his top speed, but the trek is still manageable, and your thigh doesn’t throb once.

Your ankle on the other hand…

Sometime over the course of the night, your foot had started going numb. Your limp has become more prominent, and with every step you take, pain shoots up your right ankle. You manage to bear it for quite a bit longer. That is, until you lose your footing, tripping over a sudden root in your path and falling to the ground with a loud thump.

An annoyed sigh greets your ears, followed by even louder stomps heading back in your direction.

“Are you that incompetent-“ A sharp intake of breath. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m always bleeding.” You push yourself upward, feeling pain shoot through your fingertips.

Oh, yes. You forgot. You cracked your nails.

Sitting yourself on the ground, you let out a sigh of your own. Gently, you go to raise your hands to your face in order to assess the damage. However, before you can get very far, two large hands envelope your own.

“You’re a walking disaster.” He clicks his tongue, studying your fingertips thoroughly.

His touch is not soft, but it’s not as rough as this morning. Still, he turns your hands in his without thought, tugging your arms lightly forward as he brings your fingertips closer to his face.

Your expression hardens, pursing your lips. “So I’ve been told.”

He says nothing, but you do notice his gaze flick upwards to your face. A moment later, and he’s letting out another sigh. “Is there anything else I should be made aware of?”

“Well, since you’re asking,” you reply smartly, pain and irritation ridding you of your normal filter. “I haven’t been able to feel my right foot for over two hours.”

He swears lowly under his breath. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were now my own personal doctor.” You snap.

A low growl greets you in response, and you freeze. With wide eyes, you meet his own.

“I would like to make it back to my home without any further setbacks.” He snarls. “Preferably with you in one piece.”

“Didn’t realize I was so important to you, General,” you tug your hands out from his grip, and surprisingly, you do not feel the sharp sting of fresh cuts adorning your skin from his claws. In fact, it looks as if he retracted them before he even started examining your hands.

A strange, yet welcomed fact which you didn’t bother to notice until now.

“You’re not.” He spits out his reply, standing back to his full height in the next second. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a bit with some supplies.”

Without waiting for a response, he takes off into the night.

All you can hear are the sounds of the forest around you, and the faint stomping of the fae away from you as you drag yourself to rest against a tree. Finally, you feel as if you can breathe easier.

There’s a war going on within yourself. You still want to make the general so mad that he kills you in a fit of rage, while another part of you is genuinely regretting that decision. Whether it happens or not, is still yet to be seen. At least you no longer have starvation, dehydration, and infection clouding your mind.

About an hour later, the fae returns to see you having stripped yourself of your pants. The bandage he had tied around your thigh rests to the side as you let the wound breathe, and it looks the best it has in weeks. Whatever that paste is made from has really helped, for now all that remains of the initial cut is a small scar, and a minor scab.

You notice he spares a glance at your thigh. “How’s your leg?”

Your brow quirks, but you school your features into a neutral expression almost as quickly as it comes.

“Well, I’m starting to gain feeling back in my foot.” You say, watching him carefully as he crosses the short distance between the both of you. “I told you the bandages were too tight.”

“Do you ever stop nagging?” His features twist in irritation as he crouches beside you.

Almost instantly, your breath catches, and your expression falls. Your throat bobs as you swallow thickly, averting your gaze to the side. Old memories, ones you had shoved deep down inside of you resurface, and bile rises in your throat.

“I suppose I should feel grateful for having you keep me from dying.”

“Feel whatever you want to, mortal,” he sighs, handing you a canteen of water. “I have no ties to you, and you have none to me.”

“Then, what do you call this?” Pointedly, you spare a glance down at your almost fully healed thigh, making sure to catch his gaze.

“Insurance.” He states bluntly. Not even a second later, his eyes fall shut, and he’s breathing out a long sigh. “Look, I’m getting tired of repeating myself-“

“I know.” You cut him off. “I’m useless if I can’t function properly.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to.” You turn your head, jaw twitching as tears prick at your eyes.

You’ve heard it all before. Over and over for what feels like your entire life. Friends, family… all those that were supposed to love you, to care for you.

You nearly scoff.

Love. What a useless emotion. You’re not even sure it exists anymore. Though, you’re sure your parents would argue that they did even this for you out of whatever twisted love they claim to have for you.

No. They wouldn’t know love even if it hit them right in their faces.

No one has ever loved you. No one ever will.

“We’ll rest here until you’re fully healed, and then we’ll continue the journey back to the keep.” His voice, solid and stern, pulls you out of your own thoughts. “That way there’s no excuse as to why we need to make additional stops.”

“Yes, General,” your voice is much weaker than before, barely coming out as more than a hoarse whisper. It’s as if you’ve suddenly lost the will to fight. If you ever even had it in the first place.

A grunt is all you hear from him in response. In fact, that’s all you hear from him for the rest of the morning, and as the sun begins to rise over the horizon, you fall into a deep, restless sleep.

***

It takes two full days for your wound to fully heal. Granted it only took one for the cut to become nothing more than a scar, but it was better to be safe, than sorry.

Despite the setbacks, Mingi actually feels relieved now that he knows you won’t be able to slow him down since your thigh has healed. Looking after you hasn’t been so bad, either. Your company, surprisingly enough, can actually be quite enjoyable.

There are times where you don’t seem to filter yourself as heavily as others. He enjoys those the most. You have an attitude to you that he can appreciate. An attitude which reminds himself of his younger days, before he became the seasoned general that he is now. He honestly wishes he would see it more often from you, but every time you allow yourself to snap back at him, it’s as if you expect him to hit you for it.

Not only that, but the past few times you’ve fallen asleep, you seem to be tormented by terrors unknown to him. He can hear you thrashing against the tree you rest on, whimpering into the stillness of the night as your body attempts to curl in on itself.

It bothers him, and he doesn’t understand why.

Ever since he saw you attempting to frantically crawl away from him that day after he had slaughtered that deer, something within himself has shifted.

Mingi has always known he’s a monster. He was born a monster. He was raised a monster. He is a monster, and he’s never for one moment denied that part of himself. Of course, he has his own moral code he lives by, but again, he doesn’t enjoy wasting his time on easy prey.

If it’s not worth killing over, it’s not worth dying for.

Besides, no one respects him for the minor kills. He wouldn’t have gotten where he is today if he took the easy path. He has a reputation to uphold, and killing people that are not even worth his time only makes people fear him.

Fear isn’t what can drive people to be loyal. Respect can.

No one gains respect by slaughtering countless humans here. At least, in his opinion. It would be the same as targeting children. Who gains honour from tearing apart the weak and defenceless? Certainly not him. He never has, and he never will.

There’s no valour in that.

Still, there is something about you that irritates him to no end. Every time you call him general, he wants to rip your tongue from your throat. The way he catches you looking at him from time to time makes him want to gouge your eyes from your head. Yet, there’s something about the way you’ve come to rely on him, about being able to actually take care of something in such a way instead of destroying like he’s used to. Something about the way he feels as if he can just live around you, causes his guard to weaken and start to crumble.

A vulnerability he hasn’t felt in a long time. A vulnerability that, in actuality, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt in his entire life.

Maybe that’s why you irritate him so much.

Stupid human making him feel stupid things he’s never felt before.

The sun sets in the distance, casting a golden hue across the surrounding area. A gentle breeze cools the humid air of the day, giving way for the crisp stillness that night is sure to bring.

Still, you limp along.

Your stamina has improved since your wound has healed, and you seem to be more keenly aware of your surroundings. Enough so, that Mingi can see the familiar shine of recognition behind your eyes as the forest begins to thin up ahead.

“Shouldn’t there-“ you swallow, panting lightly. “Shouldn��t there be a town up ahead?”

A low hum in confirmation is all you receive in response as Mingi breaks through the tree line. He pauses, waiting for you to catch up. Taking the time now, he scans over the area, no annoying pests in sight. Of course, there are the town’s other inhabitants, but at least the pain in the ass seems to be gone for the moment. If his missing scent is anything to go by, Seonghwa hasn’t been home in quite a few days.

Perhaps those small set backs were more of an advantage than Mingi thought.

“Come on,” Mingi says, leading you towards a tavern across the way. “We’ll stay here for the night. I could use a decent rest in a bed instead of on the ground for a change.”

Eager eyes follow the both of you as you cross the short distance between the woods and the tavern, and Mingi can already hear the whispers floating in the air. He knows that he’s easily recognizable, given the red band tied around his upper arm, but hearing them comment about you sets his skin prickling.

The worst part is, he doesn’t know why.

Stepping inside, the familiar smells of malt ale and other fermented substances greet his nostrils. There’s a distinct stench of body odour, and malcontent lingering in the air that irritate his nose the further into the tavern he goes. The rowdy patrons are all around, laughing and jeering amongst themselves as he steps up to the counter.

Even though he spares a glance over his shoulder to check, he knows that you’re scurrying after him as fast as you can. You seem to be able to feel the pointed stares sent your way as Mingi discusses lodging arrangements with the owner.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Mingi watches you shift uncomfortably on your feet, curling in on yourself as loud voices reach the both of your ears.

“Isn’t that that infamous redcap general?” A loud whisper cuts through the noise of the tavern.

“What’s a human doing with him?” Another hisses, and Mingi can feel his one ear twitch.

“You think he’s claimed her?”

“I don’t see a mark.” Such a smug comment causes Mingi’s jaw to tick in irritation.

What ever happened to minding one’s own business?

“You think we could convince him to let us have some fun with her?”

“Maybe I should give her a mark of my own-“

“Watch your tongue before you lose it.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, his sharp gaze locked onto the fae that had uttered such a repulsive phrase.

A sudden silence encases the entire tavern, and even your eyes go wide.

The comment from the general is so unexpected, it seems to even surprise him.

Mingi is acutely aware of all eyes on him now. Not even a drop of condensation falls against a single glass as he snatches the ward key from the counter. With his opposite hand, he pushes you along, only causing you to stumble forwards and towards the stairs at the back of the room.

“Don’t concern yourselves with business that is not your own.” Mingi snaps, practically shoving you up the stairs and out of sight from hungry, prying eyes.

Eyes of which that seem to follow you all the way to the room. A fact which only serves to irritate him more, a scowl tugging at his features as he unlocks the door with the ward key. A moment later, the entrance swings open, and he’s dragging you inside.

“This was a bad idea.” He begins to pace, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I was fine the last time I passed through this town.” Your reply is much softer than he’s used to, and he spares a glance in your direction.

There you stand, still fidgeting in your spot. Your hands tug at the long sleeves of your shirt, shoulders curling in on yourself as you intently stare at the ground. Your eyes have lost that faint shine he’s come to know over the past few days, the brightness having dulled suddenly into a blank nothingness.

He bets you’re thinking about their eyes on you, and how everyone was gazing at you like you were a piece of meat. Even he can still see the way tongues ran over sharp teeth, lips curling back against fangs in malicious grins as the scents of excitement and thrill bombarded his senses.

His own lips draw back in a scowl, and he nearly growls.

“Do you understand what they were implying?” Mingi can barely keep his breathing under control as he turns to look out the window.

Claws dig into wood, fingers nearly snapping the window frame from the pressure of his grip. What only makes this worse is he doesn’t understand why those comments have set him off so much. It’s simply typical fae talk, no different than what his subordinates had said when you first showed up at the edge of their encampment.

Thinking back on it now, the thought nearly makes him snarl.

“It’s nothing I’m not used to with men-“

“They are not men.” Mingi snaps, his chest heaving as he turns to face you.

Immediately, you recoil back, mild shock on your features. That is, until you’re schooling your expression and taking a deep breath in.

“Why should it matter what they say, then?” You keep your voice low, steady.

“It doesn’t.” His reply is quick. Too quick.

“Aren’t they your kin? Don’t you think the exact same way?” Your voice rises slightly, and the tears he can see shining in your gaze cause his chest to begin to ache.

“I have never- will never think that way.” Mingi shakes his head, fingers tangling in his locks and tugging exasperatedly at the roots. “I may not like your kind, but I don’t agree with treating them however we want to just because we can.”

His head is spinning and throbbing all at once. He feels both freezing cold and burning hot, and he cannot prevent his eyes from shifting from you to the door. His breathing, which he has always been able to master, comes in erratic pants, fangs bared as his claws scratch at his scalp.

“You had no problem with it before when it was your men saying it.”

A silence so deadly settles over the room.

In the blink of an eye, Mingi has you pinned against the wall. His arm rests over your upper chest as he looms over you, teeth bared in a snarl. Raised in the air above his head is his opposite arm, claws glinting beneath the light of the moon as he prepares to strike.

Only, the hitch in your breath pulls him back to reality.

Immediately, he stumbles away from you, staring at his hands in horror. He doesn’t register the single sob that echoes through the silence of the room like a knife, nor does he hear the frantic beating of your heart over his own racing in his ears. What he does catch, however, is the single tear that cuts a path down your cheek, and the way your trembling body collapses to the floor.

The moment you touch ground, you go limp, staring vacantly at the wall across from you.

Mingi’s hands drop to his sides, balling them into fists as he stomps over to the door.

“I’ll be back.”

The last thing he sees before the door swings shut is you supporting yourself with your hands braced upon the floor. He doesn’t give himself time to think as he storms back downstairs and straight over to the bar, ignoring the pointed stares sent his way.

He needs time to think, to sort out the mess that is his head. Perhaps you could use this time alone, too. Besides, it’s not like you can escape the room you’re in. Only he has the key to get in, and it’s not like you can jump out of the window. The glass is too strong for you to break.

You’re trapped, just like you’ve always been since he caught up to you. Yet, for some reason, that simple thought makes his brow furrow.

He doesn’t want you to feel trapped…

Frowning down into his glass, Mingi downs his ale. A few moments later, and his glass has been refilled. What a perfect way to end the day: by drowning his sorrows in a room full of boisterous fae, drinking until even the most proper of them cannot tell up from down.

About an hour into his drinking, he senses a few other fae saddle up beside him. The scraping of the stools on the ground cuts through the noise of the tavern, and much to Mingi’s annoyance, the fae from earlier that were making comments are the ones that surround him.

“So, what brings you to town, General?” The one with muted butterfly wings on his back asks. He was the one who commented on convincing Mingi to have some fun with you.

Mingi takes another sip of his drink. “Hunt.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re with that human.” Another hums, small horns protruding from the top of his head. His skin has a slight green hue to it, and Mingi recalls the way he spoke about giving you a mark of his own. “Mustn’t have put up much of a fight, eh?”

A scowl mars Mingi’s brow, but he hides it behind the rim of his glass, downing the rest of its contents in a single shot.

“Surprised she’s not torn to shreds.” Another hums, leaning casually against the edge of the bar. He’s a bit shorter than the other two, but Mingi notes the way he bounces his one hand in the air, almost impatiently. “Or are you saving that for later?”

“Oh, you sly general, you,” the one with the horns nudges Mingi’s shoulder. “Lure the human into a false sense of security, then tear her asunder when she least expects it!”

The three fae share a laugh, fangs glinting beneath the light as their lips curl deviously in mirth.

“I thought I told you to not concern yourself with business that is not your own.” Mingi replies gruffly, slamming his now empty glass back on top of the counter.

“It’s not our fault you brought an unclaimed human into our midst.” The one leaning against the counter titters.

“Really, you should share some of the fun with the rest of us,” the winged one laughs, flicking his eyebrows in a suggestive matter.

“And what would your town’s overseer say if he could hear you now?” Mingi turns his sharp gaze towards the two fae on his right side.

If there’s one thing that Mingi can’t fault the pain in the ass for, it’s that he maintains good control over those that follow him. At least, those that reside in this town.

“Seonghwa’s not here.” The fae with the horns hums. “What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

Mingi’s jaw twitches. These fae have clearly done this multiple times with humans before, and gotten away with it despite Seonghwa’s rule not to touch any that enter the village under his watch. Though, with that specificity, Mingi isn’t that surprised.

“Come on, General,” the one with the wings taunts. “Think of how satisfying her shrieks of terror will be.”

A flash of you scrambling away from him in terror flashes through his mind, your desperate cries ringing through his ears.

“Humans are such weak, pathetic creatures, anyways.” The one leaning on the counter rolls his eyes as Mingi stands to his feet. “It’ll probably be the only action she ever sees in her life with how ugly she is. She’ll probably be thanking us by the end of it for make her feel desirable.”

An image, soft and pure, of you tenderly gazing down at that wilting stem of spider lilies flits through his mind, and Mingi tenses. A blink, and the once peaceful scene shifts, blood splattered over your face as tears cut fresh tracks through the dirt and grime smeared over your cheeks.

“Don’t you want to feel the warmth of her blood spilling onto your hands as you bathe yourself in its crimson flow?” The fae with the horns grins maniacally. “Taste its bitter scent as it drips down your tongue?”

Mingi’s hands, which are currently clenched into fists at his sides, begin shaking.

“Come on, General,” the one that’s leaning against the bar continues, pushing himself forwards to lean into the silent redcap’s back. “Let us have our fun. We’ll take her off your hands.”

“Yeah,” The winged one smirks, eyes glinting in the light of the tavern. “Don’t you know human meat is a delicacy around here?”

“Let alone one so young, and fresh,” the horned one snickers, his grin widening as he licks his lips. “Oh, I can’t wait to tear into her-“

Blood splatters across the top of the bar, and every patron turns to see what the sudden commotion is about. Not a sound can be heard for several tense moments as realization settles over the entire room.

The horned fae can do nothing but open and close his jaw, blood spilling from his mouth as he stumbles away from the redcap across from him. Horror paints his features for a brief second before anger is taking over, watching as Mingi drops the now severed muscle in his hand, the horned fae’s tongue thudding against the floor.

“I warned you.”

Without another word, Mingi is storming outside the tavern to get some fresh air. The rest of the fae around him immediately part to let him pass, low whispers following him all the way outside. His hand clenches repeatedly, feeling disgusted by the wet warmth that covers his fingers.

Normally, Mingi would revel in the feeling. He loves the way blood coats his skin when he goes in for the kill, not to mention maiming something that annoys him. Sure, he has his morals, but that doesn’t mean he won’t put in the effort when the time calls for it.

Mingi doesn’t quite exactly know why he reacted the way he did. He put up with his men boasting about wanting to do much worse to you while back in the encampment. Yet, how three unknown fae could rile him up so easily only makes the confusion and anger he’s feeling all the more prominent.

It’s only because you’re still technically on a hunt with him. You’re not home free just yet. At least, that’s what he tells himself. He has to make sure you both make it back unharmed, and that includes not letting other fae take advantage of you.

No other reason.

None at all.

Taking a deep breath in, Mingi lets the crisp night air fill his lungs. He flicks his wrist, more blood splattering against the ground as he scowls down at his hand. His whole body is tense, and he’s surprised his teeth don’t crack from the force at which he clenches his jaw.

He should probably check on you soon. It’s been a long day, and all he wants to do is rest. No more dealing with this stupid shit for the moment. It’s time for him to turn his brain off.

Besides, he could use the downtime.

Heading back inside after about five more minutes, Mingi flexes his hand. The now dried blood cracks over his skin, and a feeling of unease settles inside his chest. The other three fae are nowhere to be seen, and at the way a few of the other patrons spare looks his way out of the corners of their eyes, he can tell something is off.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

***

For half an hour, you do not move from your spot.

Your ankle throbs as you curl up on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as best as you can. A familiar position, as you find your tears quickly depleting as your entire being goes numb.

Blankly, you stare at the opposite wall. You were this close to getting him to kill you, and you don’t know if you’re more upset at yourself or him for not seeing it through.

It’s not like you trusted him, nor do you necessarily trust him in general. However, faced with the same scenario you’ve played out so many times before, all you could see was that monster covered in blood, ready to strike you down once more.

There’s a bitterness that builds within your chest, but you don’t know if it’s at yourself, or the fae. You were so close to being done with all of this. Are you that horrible at committing to something, and seeing it through, that not even a fae wants to kill you? Are you that useless that you can’t even do that right?

Taking in a shaky breath, you finally push yourself up into a sitting position. Your whole body groans in protest, muscles aching due to the position you had been laying in on the cold, hard floor. Slowly, you pull yourself to your feet, mindful of the twinge in your right ankle as you hobble over to one of the side doors.

You’re pretty sure you saw a bathroom on the way in.

Time seems to pass languidly, and much too quickly all at once. By the time you pull yourself out of the tub, you have no idea if the redcap has returned or not. You didn’t hear his telltale footsteps stomping through the room, but you’ve learned that he can be quite light on his feet when he wants to be. Who knows how much time you have left to yourself, anyways.

As you’re drying off, you can faintly hear a commotion coming from the direction of the stairs. It seems as if one of the patrons has gotten too rowdy, for all seems to still a moment later.

You shake your head, wrapping the surprisingly fluffy towel around your plush body, and limping back into the main area of the room. The redcap is nowhere in sight, but there seems to be a fresh pile of clothes laid out on the bed. There’s even a clean set of undergarments for you, and as you look closer, you realize that it’s actually your old set. Upon a thorough inspection, they appear as if brand new, washed and dried to perfection.

Such a small gesture, whether through some form of magic, or something else, causes your heart to swell. It’s been a long time since you’ve had anything done for you like this, and to say it means a lot would be a tremendous understatement.

Feeling the material of your undergarments between your fingers, you let out a soft sigh through your nose. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you begin to change, managing to pull everything on quickly. There’s still a faint warmth clinging to the material of the clothes, as if they’ve been left out in the sun for too long, or have rested beside an open fire. It calms you, and breathing starts to become a little bit easier.

Standing from the bed, you can hear muffled voices begin shouting at each other from down the hallway. You figure them to be other patrons staying overnight, so you think nothing of it to walk towards the bathroom to hang your towel upon the back of the door. You’re sure you saw a little hook there before…

Just as you go to reenter the bathroom, the main door to the room swings open. You expect it to be the redcap returning from wherever it is that he went, but instead, what you see, or rather, whom, has you freezing right in your tracks.

Three unfamiliar fae stand before you. One has light green skin and horns, who seems to be bleeding from his mouth. Another has large wings, akin to a butterfly, with a neutral coloured pattern painted over them. The third is very human-like in appearance. He’s shorter than his two companions, with pointed ears, sharp teeth, and claws that adorn his features.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.” The one with the wings steps forwards, a malicious grin tugging at his lips.

Naturally, you take a step backwards, your heart jumping into your throat. Your eyes dart between the three fae as they creep towards you, matching their pace with each step backwards you take. In the back of your mind, you begin to wonder if it was the redcap that gave them the key to unlock this room.

“Don’t act so coy, Doll,” the human-like fae drawls, his fangs prominent as he smiles wickedly at you. “We’re only here to have some fun. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please, I don’t want any trouble,” you say weakly, lifting your hands before you slightly in a defensive position.

Boisterous laughter greets your ears as the door to the room swings shut behind them, sealing your fate. There’s no way the other fae is going to come back to save you now. You’re stuck, and this time, you really will die at the hands of three unfamiliar fae who look at you like an object they’re going to enjoy ripping apart.

“You should have thought of that before you waltzed in here without a claim, acting like you own the place,” the one with wings spits, and you can hear the green one gargle out something that sounds like a noise of agreement. Only, more blood escapes his mouth, and he ends up spitting it in your direction and onto the floor at your feet.

“You’re not going to look much different than that pile of blood once we’re done with you,” the human-like one says, a sick, twisted sense of glee lighting up his features.

“Until then, you live to serve us.” The butterfly winged fae adds sharply. “We’ll take all the pleasure we can from this pathetic body of yours, and after each round, you’re going to thank us for even bothering to touch you.”

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, skin prickling in disgust as bile builds in your chest. Your stomach drops, and before you can think, you spin on your heel, attempting to make a break out the window.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The human-like fae blocks your path, grabbing your wrists in his hands harshly and holding you in place.

“Let me go!” You begin to thrash around to no avail, tripping over your own feet as you get dragged back and towards the one bed.

“Oh, this one has some fight left in her,” the winged one snickers, leaning casually against the wall as he observes the scene. “Looks like that general was too easy on this one. Guess we’ll have to make up for lost time.”

“You should be thanking us for even looking at a disgusting creature such as yourself.” The one that had dragged you towards the bed throws you upon it, wasting no time in pinning you down upon the mattress.

Your protests and pleas to stop fall on deaf ears. In fact, the more you struggle, the more it seems to delight the three fae closing in around you. Thrashing beneath his harsh hold only earns you a knee to the stomach, and you cry out in pain.

Tears leak out of the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as you feel hands groping you all over as the fae above you keeps you captive beneath him. This scene is all to familiar to you, and just as with all those times before, no one is coming to your rescue.

No matter how loudly you scream, no matter how much you beg, struggle, and cry, no one will care.

The only certainty that now awaits you is death.

“Stop struggling,” the fae above you hisses, his one hand pinning your wrists above your head as he adds more pressure to the knee digging into your stomach. “Shut up, and take it like pathetic human you are.”

The moment you see the fae reach a clawed hand towards your shirt, you stop breathing.

It feels as if time stops. One moment the fae is above you, pinning you down unforgivingly. The next, he’s gone, the pressure on both your wrists and stomach completely having disappeared.

A sickening crunch echoes throughout the room, followed by an immediate scream of pain.

A blur moves through the room, and suddenly, you see a wing get tossed towards the window, followed shortly by another. The tearing sounds resonate through the room, followed almost immediately by muffled screams and pleas for mercy.

Only one figure remains within view, and as he uncurls himself into a standing position, his full height looms over the entire room. His towering form fills the space around you, and as you lay upon the bed, you feel as if you can breathe again. Never have you been so grateful to see that terrifying redcap standing across from you, but still you cannot prevent your body from shaking.

“All this for a fucking human.” A voice from the ground spits harshly.

Looking down, you see the green fae cowering in the corner, and the one with the once beautiful butterfly wings laying face down on his stomach. His back is completely torn asunder, blood coating the entire area as his wings lie in torn heaps upon the ground.

“You’re going to break code just for a stupid mortal?” The same fae hisses, pure anger on his features as he trembles beneath the redcap’s piercing gaze.

“You can’t kill us.” The one human-like fae by the window laughs. He seems to be holding his hands before himself, fingers severely deformed and sticking out in odd angles. Bones peek through his flesh, and blood coats every inch of his hands, but that does not prevent the way his whole body trembles as the redcap takes a menacing step towards him.

“You’re not dead yet, are you?” The general spits, gaze sharp as he pointedly looks between all three fae cowering around the room.

Frantically, they shake their heads.

“That’s what I thought.” He snaps, lips pulled over his fangs in a snarl. “I doubt any of you want to chance a duel against me given the state you’re all in. Not that’d you’d survive, even at full strength.”

Again, the three fae shake their head. Though this time, scowls adorn their features.

“Now,” the redcap’s eyes flash, a low snarl permeating the air. “Get out of my sight before I rid you all of yours.”

All three fae scramble for the door, the human-like one managing to trip over his own feet and land harshly on his broken hands. A sharp cry escapes him, and the horned fae ends up having to pull the other to his feet, soon supporting both broken fae as they tumble out of the room.

You can hear the redcap muttering under his breath, leaning down to pick something up from the floor. Not even a second later, and he’s crushed what appears to be a second ward key in his hand, tossing it over his shoulder without another thought.

He turns to you.

There you lie, stiff as a board on top of the one mattress. The other bed lays untouched to your side, but all you can do is stare with wide eyes at the redcap before you. Your gaze darts over the blood splattered on his skin, the red dotting his clothing in random patterns.

Your lungs burn, and your eyes sting. Yet, still, you do not move. No words escape you, not trusting your voice for the moment as you wait for him to move.

He takes a cautious step forward, but you fail to see the way his gaze softens as he does.

A whimper escapes you, another tear sliding from the corner of your cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he lifts his hands, palms facing upwards to show you he means you no harm. “Breathe.”

Oh, yeah. You should probably fill your lungs with air. No wonder your chest is burning.

A stuttering gasp escapes you as you heave a large breath into your lungs. However, the second you do, a harsh sob escapes you. Immediately, you’re scrambling back on the bed, a hand clutching over your stomach where that fae dug his knee into you. Your wrists throb, more tears blurring your vision as the redcap takes another step towards you.

“Stay away.” The plea is but a desperate whisper upon your lips, chin trembling as you attempt to curl in on yourself.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Still, he keeps his hands in the air, palms facing towards you. “You have my word.”

Your gaze catches on the blood staining his clothes, smeared over his skin, and you shake your head.

For a moment, you swear you watch his brow furrow, only for realization to line his features. He straightens, doing his best to move in the least threatening manner possible.

“Stay here.” His voice is low, an edge of worry lining his command.

Before you can even react, the fae disappears into the bathroom. You can hear the sound of water, followed by some frantic scrubbing. Then, more water trickling along with the movement inside the bathroom.

The whole time you sit on the bed, your gaze is locked on the little opening where the main door to the room and the door to the bathroom reside. You can faintly hear things being shuffled around you, and you swear you catch something dart across the room out of the corner of your eye. It’s small, and quick, but when you shift your head to look, all that greets you is empty space.

An empty room devoid of any of the mess you just witnessed stain it.

The blood splatters are gone, along with the tattered remains of the one fae’s wings. There’s even a fresh set of clothing at the end of your bed by your feet, completely identical to the ones you’re currently wearing.

You swallow thickly.

Turning your head, you begin to look around the room once more. Your eyes search for one thing in particular, and you find it resting beside you on the bedside table. It’s almost as if it had been placed delicately beside you after someone had realized the horrifying events that have just taken place.

The red spider lilies are crushed, the stem broken in two. The flower that means so much to you has been tread upon like it’s nothing, reflecting exactly how you feel in this moment. Only a few petals remain, wilted and dead, clinging to the plant for dear life in a final attempts to maintain what once was pure.

Slowly, you reach over and take the dying stem into your trembling grip.

A choked sob escapes you, and you’re quick to slap a hand over your mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut. The hand you have holding the flower also clutches at your throbbing stomach as your whole body shakes with the weight of your situation.

What you’ve been through - what you’re going through - you cannot take it anymore.

The hand that caresses the top of your head is soft, but the unexpected touch still makes you nearly jump out of your skin. Pain lingers in your gaze as you turn to see the redcap staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

No, not unreadable. You just cannot accept that someone is actually looking at you in concern, rather than pity for once.

He pulls his hand away, hesitant in the way he leans the slightest bit over the bed that you’re curled up on. His normally looming figure doesn’t seem so intimidating all of a sudden, almost as if his features have softened beneath the faint glow of the moon.

You watch him carefully, observing his every movement with a wary glint to your gaze. He saved you. He protected you, and you don’t know if that scares you more than if he had sent those other three fae after you like you had originally thought. His actions confuse you, and more than anything, you’re tired.

Exhaustion doesn’t even come close to the immense fatigue you feel. You’re tired of the life you were given. Tired of the life you’ve been forced into. Tired of living.

Honestly, you don’t know what to do anymore. It seems accepting your fate isn’t going exactly as you thought it would, nor is it as easy as it seems.

“Are you hurt?” Though he keeps his voice soft, the sudden timbre cutting through the silence of the room still makes you jump.

You shake your head, hand tightening around that broken flower over your stomach.

His eyes glance the movement, and his expression falls slightly.

“I only wish to make sure you’re okay.” Again, he keeps his voice soft, tone steady as he meets your gaze.

You bite your lower lip, attempting to keep it from wobbling as a single sob wracks your entire body. Then another, and then another, until you’re breaking down before his very eyes.

Tears stream down your face as you continue to muffle your sobs behind your one hand. Your eyes squeeze shut, simply wishing to disappear in this very moment. You wish you had never been born, where nothing but servitude, injustice, and hell rule your life with an iron grip.

From the very first memories you can recall, someone has always been using you. Whether it be your parents, friends, or other family members, you’ve always lived to serve. No one has ever cared for you, and no one has ever fought for you.

It all feels like one big joke. A lie concocted by the monster stalking you through your every waking nightmare, ready to jump out and laugh at you for even thinking anyone could ever care for you.

Yet, despite the darkness swirling within, a light begins to peek through.

Softly, the bed dips as the fae rests a knee on the mattress. His hand strokes gently over your head, tentatively pulling you into his arms as he settles himself against the headboard.

“Shh, it’s okay,” his voice is calm, soothing. “I’ve got you.”

He holds you against his chest, cradling your head in the palm of his hand. He’s hesitant as he comforts you, making sure his arms are loose enough to allow you to pull away if need be. Only, you do not shy from his touch, instead finding it oddly satisfying that he of all creatures chose to comfort you.

Most important of all, you let him.

“I won’t let anything else harm you,” he says softly. “Not while I’m here to protect you.”

His one hand strokes lightly over your back, and though a shiver caresses your spine at the first touch, you find yourself melting into the warmth of his embrace. It’s soothing, and everything you’ve always needed but have never gotten in your entire life. A safety that shouldn’t be as welcoming as it is.

His body is firm and lean against your own. A solid foundation which holds you steady as you cling onto the fabric of his now clean shirt with your one hand. Your sobs are muffled into his chest, your sadness being absorbed into the material adorning his skin as he cradles you to him.

After some time, you feel his one hand shift downwards, placing itself over your own on top of your stomach. The warmth that you can feel radiating from his skin is welcomed, and it helps to ease the ache you feel lingering within. Softly, he begins to hum, his chest vibrating with the gentle sounds as he continues to cradle your head to his chest using his opposite hand.

The steady sound of his heart pulses beneath your ear, and the constant sound soothes you even further. You don’t realize it, but you curl in closer into him, breathing finally evening out as you start to calm down.

“Why did you-“ You swallow the dryness in your throat, sniffling lightly. “Why did you do that?”

Though your voice is barely above a whisper, you know he still hears you loud and clear.

“I… don’t know,” his brow furrows slightly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “My body just moved.”

You say nothing in response, unsure of how to reply to such an admission. You know that he cannot lie, but that doesn’t mean he cannot stretch the truth. Really, you shouldn’t be letting yourself be coddled by him, it’ll only make it hurt more when he betrays you in the end. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

You are so used to disappointment, of having false hope, that anything you believe to be too good to be true always is. Tomorrow you’ll wake up, and he’ll be back to despising your existence, only finding value in what you can do for him.

The same as it always was. The same as it always will be.

#thrill of the hunt #cultofdionysusnet #mfu net #yandere mingi #yandere ateez #mingi scenario #mingi imagine #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #ateez au #kpop au #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #fantasy au #fae au #chubby reader #tall reader #yandere kpop

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loveandfictionforall · 8 months

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Obsessed with BG3 and I just discovered your wonderful blog! If you’re down, could you please do headcanons for what a date night would look like for Wyll, Astarion, Karlach, and Laezal (I can’t spell her name from memory im sorry 😭)

Aww, you are just so cute! I will try my best, because oh boy, I don't like Lae'zel :D

Astarion

As a very morally grey character Astarion calls a lot of things fun.

He would start a bit more lightly, going out with you to eat something fancy. He will do his usual act, all smirk and suggestive comments until you were laughing, bantering and flirting with each other.

But that doesn't statisfy Astarion. He wants to be unique, because he is unique.

And he begins to lead you through the streets, with one destination in mind - a party for noble people, invites only. But when did this part ever stopped Astarion?

With his silver tongue, a roguish smile and a wink directed at you, he would charm the guards and soon you two could enter.

Absolutely out of place, you were sticking out like a sore thumb.

Soon enough some people were approaching you but Astarion quickly vanished out of sight as he noticed it, leaving you to deal with the mess while he watched in the shadows, observing how you handled it.

If you handled it well, Astarion would appear, lightly groveling and charming you because he now knew that you were capable and intersting enough to keep company with.

If you didn't handle it well? Well, Astarion would watch with a chuckle how the guards took you with them.

Wyll

Maybe you should rather go out with Wyll because he is a true charmer.

Wyll would be half an hour too early, after he prepared everything of course. He would even have some nicely picked flowers there for you, all of them searched and picked by him.

As soon as you would approach, he would give you the flowers, kissing lightly your hand and then blindfolding you to lead you to a beautiful meadow.

A picnic in the dark, in a magical place and with candels everywhere? Exactly. Wyll would lead you to the fluffy blanket, giving you a glass full of wine and gently offering you some fruity sweets.

You two were talking for hours, shoulders lightly brushing against each other, fingers sometimes grazing while reaching for the same thing.

And as the night progressed, Wyll would slowly inch in your direction, so sublte you wouldn't notice it at first.

His body warmth would keep you from getting cool while you two were sitting there the whole night until the first sun beams tickled your nose.

Karlach

A date with Karlach would begin with going to a party.

She loves alcohol and the good mood a party brings.

With good movements she would tease you until you finally joined her on the dance floor and you two wouldn't stop until your feet were hurting so much you couldn't stand up anymore.

Before you would be able to react, she would pull you on her lap or sit down on your lap, whichever you more prefer. Either way, she would lightly massage your shoulders, enjoying the feel of being able to touch you.

After some time you two would leave. Karlach would lead you to a nice, cozy inn, renting a room for you but don't worry, nothing would happen if you were too drunk.

Instead Karlach would rather wrap her arms around you, tugging you close to her while she slowly drew lines with her fingers. She would ask a lot of questions, maybe even a kiss or two would happen but if it did, it would lead to a full blown makeout scene.

Lae'zel

Lae'zel would never call it a date, since Githyanki are very forward and no nonsense. She would rather call it, that you two were preparing for another battle.

She would traing with you, attacking you fiercely and without hesitation. If you are able to keep up with her, she would approve more and more until Lae'zel would straight up kiss you and ask to sleep together.

There would not be much romance but if you did good in any way on any topic, she would appear every so often and request a strict training with you which would lead to sex.

Caring is not really in her nature but sometimes she shows some rare kinds of caring when she wraps a wound of you.

Nevertheless, her missions and her race is the most important thing for her and will always have her priority.

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tennessoui · 1 year

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It intrigues me so much thinking obi wan probably thought he was going to have a nice normal partner maybe a school teacher or a nurse, and live his days solving crime and then BOOM undercover on mob work and then BOOM Mob Boss is all over you like extreme osha (is that how you spell it idk) violations happening and then BOOM Killing someone because they could take it all away because they blew your cover and then BOOM going to the police ball where his shitty father can see him on the arm of said alleged mob boss WITH built in twins i feel like at some point obi wan is just sitting there thinking all of them and then shrugs cause in the end he got the hot rich dilf and he can do literally whatever he wants (well not everything but I’m sure you understand)

hello hello i finally wrote the scene where anakin/vader and obi-wan meet :D aka "boom mob boss is all over you like extreme OSHA violations happening" because i thought that was funny af

(1.7k)

It’s never a stellar sign when Obi-Wan wakes up to a headache like this. In the academy, it’d been a rare occasion. He’d never been one to join his fellow recruits for late nights out in the sort of clubs that dot the darker corners of Coruscant. He was the son of a police chief, after all, and that gave him certain expectations to follow, none of which left much room for drunken tomfoolery.

But the sort of headache that greets him when he wakes up is the kind of headache he recognizes from the worst sort of hangover, the sort he’s only had a handful of times in his life.

For obvious reasons, the very first thing he does when he finds the energy to squint his eyes partially open is to immediately roll over and away from the light source in the room with probably the most pathetic noise he’s ever uttered in his life.

He can’t even remember drinking that much the night before is the thing. He’d—why would he? He was—last night was—the first night of his undercover mission, he’d never risk it all to get drunk—

“Careful with your head,” a deep voice murmurs from very near to him, and Obi-Wan freezes. He doesn’t know who that is, where he is…how he got here. The material beneath his cheek is leather, so it’s most likely a couch that he’s resting on. “You took quite a beating,” the voice adds, and it sounds amused.

Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut and tries to take stock of his body. He does hurt, that’s true. He hurts pretty much everywhere actually, like his body is one giant bruise.

He took a beating? He was only supposed to be a server at the club—it had been his first night on the fucking floor, how could anyone have even noticed him enough to—

Oh. One of Skywalker’s men. He’d hit on one of the dancers, Shela. She’d been nice to Obi-Wan, had shown him around and called him Benny.

He’d gotten into a fight with the mobster when he wouldn’t leave well enough alone.

The fight had been taken outside. Six men against Obi-Wan. It hadn’t been much of a fight at all.

But where—

“Luckily, you’ve already been seen by the best and brightest in our fine city,” the voice says, and he must know he’s awake to be talking to him at all, but he still reaches out to touch Obi-Wan’s hair, proprietary. As if he knows he won’t be stopped.

The touch of fingers running along his hairline makes Obi-Wan freeze and then move, turning his face away, out of the man’s reach, and forcing his eyes open to glare at the touchy intruder.

His glare falters when he sees who exactly has found him. Where he must be.

Anakin Skywalker, businessman, restaurant owner, and suspected leader of the Coruscanti mob scene and its most violent family, stares back at him. His eyes are dark, his lips curled up into a smirk that makes Obi-Wan’s stomach tighten and his heartbeat rise. There is something very calculated and very cold about his eyes, and being under the full weight of them restricts his very breath.

“I was wondering if you had those,” Anakin Skywalker—known to all but a few simply as Vader—murmurs. He reaches out and touches Obi-Wan’s cheekbone, rough this time as if daring him to protest or flinch away from the movement.

The spike of tender pain makes Obi-Wan’s breath stutter. He must be pressing into a newly formed bruise. “Had what?”

Skywalker’s smirk grows. “Prey instincts.”

It’s like his heart misses a beat, lurching in his chest as he stares back at the mob boss. After all, he is wounded and weak and on what must be Anakin’s couch, inside what must be his home.

He’d been tapped by his father to infiltrate the Skywalker family’s mob, and he’s been studying up on all the information there is to know about Vader, his business, and his family since. The plan had been to work his way naturally into the confidences of the men of the 501st that frequented the strip club Obi-Wan got a job at. A free drink here and there, a charming smile, a flirty look….

The best way into the mob was to become a mobster’s fuck of the week. Or longer. Everyone knew that. Obi-Wan doesn’t want to think about his father signing off on his deployment, giving his permission for Detective Kenobi-Jinn to bend over and take it for the good of justice and law and order everywhere.

The plan had been to work his way into the affections of the mob, ask innocent questions in the minutes after sex when a mobster’s shields were mostly down, record the answers and report his findings to Detective Secura every other week.

The plan was not to wake up on Anakin Skywalker’s couch with the man caressing his face. The plan was not to ever even meet Skywalker. He was supposed to spread his legs for an underlying. A commander at most.

Someone like—what was the man’s name? One of the men last night—he’d been kind. He’d been someone Obi-Wan had hoped would come back, because—

“Daddy?” A voice asks from the doorway, and Obi-Wan lifts his head slightly at the sound. He’d known Skywalker had children, but he hadn’t known they’d be here—meeting Vader’s children was not in the plan at all.

Skywalker’s eyes darken, and he doesn’t take them away from his face, not even when he reaches out a hand to the doorway. “Come here, Leia baby.”

There’s the pattering of little feet and then suddenly a pair of big brown eyes is blinking at Obi-Wan from far too close to be socially acceptable. He twitches back on instinct, and a large hand wraps around the girl’s throat to tug her away gently. “We shouldn’t scare him, baby,” Skywalker murmurs in his deep, soft voice. “He’s skittish.”

Obi-Wan barely holds back an offended scoff. He’s not skittish, he’s aware enough to know that he’s at a significant disadvantage here.

At least it’s highly unlikely that he’ll be murdered in front of Skywalker’s kid.

“Daddy, Luke and I put all those band-aids on him and patched him up so good,” Leia says, allowing her father to drag her backwards and settle her onto the edge of the coffeetable. “You can’t make him bleed again.”

Alright, maybe the presence of his kid isn’t enough to usually keep him from murder. He sits up carefully, swinging his legs down onto the ground even though the motion makes him want to vomit.

He’s barely vertical when Leia pushes herself under his arm to put her head in his lap, arranging his hand so that it’s resting on her head.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen and he looks at Skywalker.

The man just smirks as he leans back himself to look his full.

“You gave Luke head scratches all night,” Leia accuses when he doesn’t move.

“I—what?” Luke? Who is Luke?

“Rexy brought you to Daddy and he wasn’t here so he put you on the couch and Luke and I patched you up and you gave Luke so many head scratches even though he fell asleep which isn’t fair because we used my band-aids and you were sitting on my end of the couch!”

Obi-Wan blinks.

Obi-Wan’s hand starts moving, petting the girl’s head.

Rex. That was the name of the man from the bar last night, the one who had been kind. Who had apparently looked after him, gotten him somewhere…reasonably safe.

Perhaps the plan isn’t ruined after all.

“Oh,” he says very carefully. “Rex helped me? That’s very nice of him. I should like to…thank him personally then.”

Leia shoots up away from his side with an insistent scowl, one Obi-Wan is unprepared to deal with or understand. He looks away from her to frown at Skywalker, but Skywalker is wearing the same expression—though much darker.

“Weren’t you listening?” Leia demands. “Me and Luke helped you! Rex just gave you to Daddy!”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan blinks. He doesn’t…know what he’s supposed to be doing. Or saying. But he can try. “Well, thank you very much for your help, Leia. You and your brother made me feel much better.”

Leia beams and gives him a pat on the arm as if he’s a dog who has gotten a trick right. “Daddy,” she says and looks to Skywalker. “We are keeping him. Luke and I talked about it and that’s what we decided. We want Ben.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen. This is definitely not part of the plan.

But at least he’d been with it enough to give them his undercover name, despite being out of it enough to end up on Anakin Skywalker’s couch surrounded by his children, and then pet at them.

“I thought you were talking to Ahsoka about wanting a puppy,” Skywalker says. His tone is unreadable, but his eyes are softer as they look at his daughter.

Ahsoka. Ahsoka Tano. Vader’s second.

“Ben is better than a puppy,” Leia declares, and Obi-Wan feels sort of—touched. Despite himself. Despite the myriad of reasons he should be on his highest guard, even against this child.

“Ben is not even in the same realm as a puppy,” now Vader sounds amused. “If anything, you are requesting to adopt a little mouse.”

“Well…maybe Ben can be mine, and Luke can get the puppy,” Leia suggests.

Obi-Wan wonders if Ben is going to get a choice in this conversation, and then he wonders what he’d choose.

The plan does not mention him getting within touching distance of Anakin Skywalker.

As if he knows what he’s thinking, Skywalker turns dark eyes to him. “What if,” he says, in that soft tone he’d been using when he told Obi-Wan to mind his head, “I keep Ben, and you and Luke can get the puppy?”

That’s it then. The plan—and Ben—and Obi-Wan are all fucked.

“Okay,” Leia says.

Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything. His chest feels tight, and he's confused. He's confused because he's not sure he did anything to warrant being kept. He hasn't earned his keep yet. All he's done is bleed all over Vader's sofa. This is a deviation from the plan. He was supposed to be flirty and seductive and work to get the attention of one the mobsters until he ended up on his back for the good of the city. He's not supposed to--

“Well?” Vader asks, cocking his head slightly.

“Okay,” Ben whispers, and Vader smiles.

#asks #obikin #vaderwan #playmaker au #obi-wan: wait i dont deserve to be manipulated and twisted into a shell of my former self yet i haven't seduced anyone #and i grew up thinking my actions made me deservng of things not my existence #vaderkin: oh my god i can see how fucked up this is making him feel in his eyes this is amazing #i need to thank rex again for the amazing present #rex: haha yeah he tried to kiss me when he was fucked up by the concussion #anakin: what.#rex: haha yeaah but i mean obviously i dont kiss rats and we know that's what he is right. hes a rat for sure #anakin: he tried to kiss you.#rex: i think thats not the most important thing i said boss

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throwaway-yandere · 2 years

Text

Hana Yori Dango (Arataki Itto/Reader/Yan!Kamisato Ayato)

A/n: Eyoo it's Feb 3, the Setsubun festival should be happening rn!!! Idk how I thought it was feb when I uploaded this on SEPTEMBER. Anywahs, ily Itto. He's not a full-blown yandere here (yet?) but he is my– OUR himbo, comrade. Writing Itto's dialogues is a delight. I took some inspiration and ideas from @leftdestiny-posts and the itto/gorou enjoyer anon for this one! (both characters are technically here but... haha...) Thanks for the ideas ehehe >:D

gn!reader. This is Itto's side story for "Careful, He Bites.", so everything is in his perspective. Maybe it could be read as a stand-alone (?) if you haven't read the previous one for extra mystery lololol.

An Unreliable Synopsis: There is another thing besides you and your flowers that Itto can't live without, and it's good fricking food. (Fic happens before "Careful, He Bites")

Cw: yandere!ayato, Japanese folklore, and pure biker gang leader!itto supremacy.

--------

Around the time Emperor Takakura reigned in the country, there lived an old farmer who wouldn't move a hair away from Yamashiro Province.

They were gentle, and their neighbors consistently portrayed them as extremely dense. They did not care to dream big for themselves, and opted to worry only about the plate they'll have once the sun sets. They didn't pay attention to whispers that would soon become the country's history; they hardly heard of the latest gossip regarding Taira no Tokuko. They lived blissfully secluded and unaware, and it was the life they chose to live.

Unaware may not be the best word to describe them, but unaffected.

███ was alone in their household with no spouse to care for them nor children to raise, and in turn, no one thought to accompany them.

Yet ███ never once considered themselves lonely. The moonlight may wax and wane, but the monsters that lurk nearby would never leave them pondering in the dark.

The moon was beautiful that night, too.

"–Won't you be a dear and fetch me a bottle of sake?"

Their voice echoed inside the empty and dilapidated house. The █████ Clan had long been silent, so no human would answer their calls.

"HAHAHAHA!!! Off to drink again, eh? Leave it to the one and oni Arataki Itto to keep you company!"

But a yokai might.

This particular yokai, Arataki Itto, had grown accustomed to pouring drinks for the farmer, in a way, they consider him their grandson. Itto sat by the floor beside them. He was small in stature, not much taller than their knee, but they considered his heart to be much bigger than an average human's. So, how could they ever turn down his offer of joining his cute little gang?

"But seriously, grand-y," Itto grinned. "I don't understand why you drink so much when you could never beat me in a drinking competition."

And oftentimes, a bigger heart comes with a bigger pride.

"Oh, Itto..." The old farmer gently ruffled the young oni's hair. "You ought not to be proud of such a feat! You're too young to be downing these drinks."

"But grand-y!"

"Do not argue with me, young oni."

"Why not, especially when you sound like a total sore loser?"

"Wha–?"

"Bleeuuugh."

The oni stuck his tongue out.

The farmer sighed, endeared.

Itto wasn't happy with the way they'd been acting over the previous month. Their movements have become terse and rigid since they returned from visiting Yae Miko. And right now, they're being awfully silent for a drunk person. Itto also didn't like how their clan's Kagura Bell Wand is also neatly boxed on top of the table with the kitsune's name on it. It's as if they're planning to give their family heirloom away. Does that mean no purification spells are working on their illness?

"Yo, grand-y. Is something up?"

He doubted it was because of ordinary human struggles. Their father had long perished in a failed rebellion and their mother had hopelessly succumbed to an undiagnosed illness. She left her child the heavy weight of carrying a disgraced Clan's name. Almost nothing can trouble the farmer.

The farmer succeded most of their previous hardships. If "succeeded" also meant abandoning the Kuruma-dera temple and becoming a recluse entangled with yokai, then the old Sojo would be rolling in his grave right now. But the point is, Itto doesn't think the old farmer would act this way simply because of a menial problem like relationships and lack of entertainment.

"Oh, nothing. I am just... Pondering over my distant relatives' wellbeing. Nothing too personal."

"Do ya want to visit them? I can help you pack up! I've been getting stronger!!!"

The imperial court may be their cousin's home, but it is not their place to stay. Especially for a hakaiso like them. If their cousin wasn't merciful the usual Banishment Laws would've been in full effect on their trial and they'd be sent to Izu Province. They don't want to burden their subordinate clan-- the Kaedehara clan-- more with their presence.

So they digressed.

"Itto, I want you to have this."

They procured a small violet flower from the vase on top of their table. Itto's nose scrunched. The child never expressed any interest in flowers, so their affectionate gesture doesn't reach him.

"Eh? What am I gonna do with that, grand-y?" Itto was visibly unimpressed.

"I have something to ask of you, won't you take this as a reward for that request?"

"HMPH! I don't even know what the request is!"

"Ahh... Fair point."

They gazed at the moon.

"Can you look after the Kamisato siblings for me?"

The young oni tilted his head. Why would they ask that? The two bakenekos are already capable of taking care of themselves anyways. Particularly the oldest. Itto often played with Ayato, and all their games ended with the cat outsmarting him one way or another. The only fault Ayato had was being overtly clingy and jealous whenever another yokai steals their attention.

"But why? It's not like Ayato needs help--"

"I'll be leaving soon."

"--raising his sis– HAAAAAH?!"

They cleared their throat.

"As a human, it still feels as though I'm abandoning my pets, even if they are intellectual yokais who can handle themselves. I'm worried about Ayato especially, he'll probably carry the weight of the world on his shoulders even if he could share the load. Our little himegimi doesn't even have a proper name yet." They muttered, melancholic.

"Hold up grand-y oni! Where are you going?! You're just going out of town... right?"

They laughed humorlessly and patted his head once more. "It won't be long. I'm sure I'll crawl home to you in a few more years. Don't cry, young oni."

So it's not a visit to the capital, it's...

Itto gulped.

"What... What did miss Miko say?"

"It doesn't matter. I am already tired of thinking about talking about it, what more if we discussed the subject?" They shook their head. By the sound of it, they refuse to talk not because of the emotional strain, but because successfully explaining things to someone like Itto would take too much effort.

"NO! Let's talk about iiiiiiiiitttt!!!" He incessantly tugged on their sleeves. "Is it your heart again?! As your gang leader, I already ordered you to stop purging wraiths!!"

They gave him a small, patient smile. For a brief, enchanting moment, it was as if the world slowed just for the oni to process an epiphany.

They tucked a wisteria behind his tiny ear.

"The moon is beautiful. Itto, thank you for making me the first member of your gang." They closed their eyes, breathing shallowly.

And then, a complete yet abrupt silence.

"Grand-y...?"

Young Arataki Itto lightly shook the old farmer.

"Grand-y?"

Young Arataki Itto shook them a bit more forcefully.

"Grand-y oni?!"

They didn't reply.

"GRAND-Y ONI!?"

Young Arataki Itto helplessly yanked them by their collar.

"GRAND-Y ONI!!!"

-----

"(Y/N)!!!"

You toppled forward as a heavy weight pressed forcefully against your back.

"Oomph– Goodness– Itto?"

"Oh, thank God you're alive!" He sobbed.

Arataki Itto, your best bud, wept over your shoulder. You did not shove him away. Itto is way too strong for you, and you wouldn't ask him to carry rice sacks for you if that weren't the case.

Itto had always been an obnoxious eccentric, often barging into your flower shop and leaving his muddy footsteps on the floor without any reservations until you surprisingly snapped. You commanded him in silent anger that he should make himself more useful to society. Hearing your low-toned voice was the scariest experience Itto had. Itto swears it was downright traumatizing. Distraught, he begged to be your "temporary" delivery boy to calm your nerves. His plan worked.

You pay him generously for his service, especially since he is missing his birth certificate and therefore can't be employed officially, but that doesn't change the fact that your floors are still muddy now that he's always back.

Itto squished his cheek against your neck as he bawled. You first assumed he was here for his part-time job but he's more interested in sharing his story. You accepted your fate and listened to the biker's performance.

"You would not BELIEVE what kinda nightmare I had last night– like hoo boy, it was INTENSE!"

"Is that so?" You chuckled, slowly diverting your attention back to your previous task, which was watering your plants.

"Trust me, man! It was so strange, it felt like it was some premonition from a distant past or something."

"I'm almost certain that premonition refers to an omen of what might happen in the future, but do go on."

"I can't remember the details, but apparently I was talking to this old farmer– and then they died in my arms! Like bleugh!" Itto bit his tongue and closed his eyes, trying to mimic what the corpse did but it's obviously an exaggeration. "I don't even remember what we were talking about, but I felt so small."

"Oh, wow. How horrifying." You spoke with your voice dripping with disinterest.

It kinda blows that you see him as just an annoying kid-like figure, but at least you let him pull you close like this. Maybe you'd compliment his muscles one day (or not, he lowkey skips arm exercises).

"Right?! Get this– the old grandperson-guy gave me a sumire! A FLOWER!!!"

"This is most certainly the first time you're excited about flowers. Hmm..." You placed a finger on your chin. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but are your dreams trying to tell me that violets will sell well this season or...?"

You cast a glance at your reserved flower stock. Because none of them are violets, it appears that you cannot tease him by offering a bouquet. You would've joked about sending some to his funeral, but Itto is rattled enough without your misplaced sense of humor.

"What?! DUDE! Why is that your interpretation?!"

"It might be because I happen to be a florist, Itto."

Itto looked back at your flowers with an open-mouth expression that says "oh, right."

He quietly noticed that most of your flowers have become more colorful since Ayato began generously giving you bonemeal as gifts. He sent jars nearly the size of a skull. It was pretty creepy. Nobody knows what that gentleman meant when he said he personally acquired and ground those bones for you, but at least they're great fertilizers.

"Well, yeah, I guess. But that's beside the point, compadre! I'm telling you all this because I wanna know what sumire, violets, mean in flower language or somethin'!"

"Violets in our country are often given as a sign of gratitude or love. Perhaps the old figure in your dreams only wishes to thank you before they regret not doing so." You sighed. Itto noticed how you looked perplexed amidst your ramblings, as though you were remembering something you shouldn't have. "Your fear of ghosts is seriously affecting your wellbeing, Itto. I fear that your cowardice will affect you one day."

...

'Itto, thank you for making me the first member of your gang.'

...

Itto shuddered.

Nope. No way. There's no way that dude was a ghost.

"W-What?! Me? Afraid of GHOSTS?! HA!" He laughed emptily. "No way."

He paused, eyeing you with his face going way past your comfortable personal space.

"And you know, (Y/n)... Now that I took a good look at ya, you kinda look like the old person from my dreams."

The two of you went silent.

You chucked a half-filled plastic watering can directly into his head.

"OW!!! What was that for?!"

"Old-fashioned as my speech and knowledge of the world may be, that does not mean I appear old myself, thank you very much!"

"WHAT?! I didn't mean it like THAT! C'mon, (Y/n)!" Itto blew a raspberry beside your neck. "I wasn't saying that. I was thinking about how you have this wholesome grandpa or granny type of vibe-- not saying that you're cute-- well I mean, you are cute-- but not in a MEAN way-- like, you're giving endgame lover vibes--"

You gently pushed Itto's hug away and passed on the next batch of flowers before he spirals when defending himself. It's a trick you used against him frequently, which helps you drown out Itto's nonsensical ramblings that are often borderline flirting. He doesn't seem to notice that he'd take anything off your hands whenever he's speaking. Doing this prevents him from realizing that you're asking him to deliver flowers to a sleazy love hotel. You have to thank his biker gang's deputy leader– Kuki Shinobu– for that "life hack."

"This next bouquet is for a client in Kabukicho. Paimon was kind enough to inform me that there is a 10% possibility of rain, but it might pick up by 6 pm so use caution."

Itto furrowed his thick eyebrows. It's cute how you talk like P.A.I.M.O.N is as a person but– "It's just an AI..."

You shrugged.

"Any friend of Lumine is a friend of mine."

Itto perked up. Lumine. It's been a while since the three of you had the pleasure of spending the afternoon indulging in sweets with her in Bistro Ichiya. He wondered how she's been lately.

She stopped responding to your calls the same summer you all became friends with Ayato. Itto thought it was such a bizarre turn of events. It lead you to wonder if your inadequate knowledge of technology had put on quite a formidable communication barrier, but it turns out your mutuals were unable to talk to her as well. Even Yoimiya offhandedly mentioned that it had always been in Lumine's nature to travel and forget her previous commitments.

You highly doubted that Lumine would let it go this far, however. It's been half a year. You had been casual friends for longer than that and know that she's not as fickle as dandelion seeds.

Itto pities your faith in her.

"... Still no calls?"

"Unfortunately no." You sighed. "Not even Paimon knows where she ended up in all her traveling endeavors."

"I'll try searching TeyvatBook again for you."

"Thank you. 'Surfing' the web must be incredibly taxing for both you and your device. I appreciate the effort, Arataki. Do make sure to replenish your phone's energy afterward."

You have the intonation of an aged soul. Itto assumed he'd be used to your manner of speech by now, but it's so eerily similar to the elderly person in his nightmares that it's bordering on the uncanny valley. He wouldn't be astonished if you were ever a docile monk in your past life.

"G-Geez. You make it seem like P.A.I.M.O.N's human. Kinda freaky."

Your silk-like laughter filled the gaps of silence, drowning his distress.

"I am the type of florist who believes talking to plants helps their growth, aren't I?"

Itto smiled softly.

"Yeah... Yeah, I guess you are, grand-y."

-------------------

"Call me later, big guy~–"

"Thank you for your purchase, have a nice day!"

That was the last order for today. Itto would've boasted as usual, but he has your best interest at heart, so he refrained from doing so to keep a good name for the Sakura Bloom flower shop. Following a script is out of character from a man like Itto, but he did most of what you commanded effortlessly.

On a side note: he looked quite adorable sporting a little green apron– clearly your size– instead of his usual bad-boy leather jacket. The look barely complimented his muscles but he's confident that he's still oozing charisma. He can't be too sure though-- he'll gel his hair extra later, and MAYBE you would say he's smokin'.

Itto stepped away from the hotel's porch and walked toward his bike. he never would've guessed you take customers from this side of Shinjuku too. That lady earlier was unforgettably promiscuous, to say the least. As he was about to comb his hair and reach for his helmet, he stopped abruptly.

"Hol' up– Was that Ayato?"

It was unmistakably him. He looked off, though. Itto only saw him for like a split second from afar but Ayato's expression looked nothing like the gentle warm smile he usually sports. Seeing Ayato without you nearby is rare since the man frequently accompanies you in public like a servant or a pet. That's not to say that Ayato lacks a social life. It's just that Itto never had the opportunity to speak with him one-on-one.

Itto became excited simply thinking about it, and the thought of asking why Ayato would be seen in the red light area didn't occur to him. Instead, he had another priority in mind. He always wanted to know where Ayato got his niku-dango ingredients because he wouldn't answer when you asked Ayato or Thoma (but Thoma looked nauseous that day, so Itto couldn't blame the guy). Itto didn't care for the meat dango's recipe, but the ingredients made it delectable—the pork especially! If he was being poetic, it tasted nostalgic. It was as though he had relished in it fresh from his muddled memories. And he's craving for more.

He left his bike and ran after him just before the light turned from yellow to red. But when he reached the other side he couldn't find a hint of his light blue hair amongst the crowd.

Itto cursed to himself as quietly as he could muster, still aware that he was wearing your apron.

"You..."

He spun around. The voice didn't sound anything like Ayato's, but the tone pointed at him. The stranger wore an obi that did not match the century he was in and two protruding azure horns that were hard to miss. It was like he came out of a Setsubun festival. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, Itto felt as if those horns were real and not at all out of place.

"Arataki Itto." The stranger's nose scrunched, voice dripping with unadulterated disdain. "The pathetic red oni that stained our pride just for a sinful runin."

Itto stared back, his face blank and his eyes hollow.

"...Takuya."

Itto froze as the name slipped out of his mouth. How did he know his name? And why is he so sure that's his name?

"How was it? How was the taste? Was it as good as you remembered?"

"I... Who are you, man?!"

Itto already knew his name. He knew he just said his name but he still asked out loud because he couldn't understand what the hell is going on.

"Why don't you still remember...?"

Takuya seemed at a total loss on what else to say, unlike his heavily contorted expression.

Arataki Itto is for being easily provoked, and Takuya took advantage of his simple flaw.

"It's been years since you made the deal. Why don't you remember who you were– who you are? Don't you remember the pact?!"

"Theeee– what now?"

Don't get him wrong, Itto feels guilty but he's stumped. He doesn't know what he's guilty of exactly, and this man isn't doing him any favors by continuing this guessing game.

"You promised– you red onis made an oath that you will live ALONGSIDE humans. Why did you eat them? Why did you start living AS a human?!"

Itto's breath hitched at the sound of Takuya's screaming, causing him to nervously run his fingers through his hair. As he reached for his scalp, a phantom pain seared where two things should've been.

"... The hell you talking about, man? Are you a chuunibyo or something?" His voice came off as hoarse and strained, reflecting that an invisible force is harming him in ways he can't prove to himself or others.

Takuya sucked air between his teeth. But just as he was about to break down his list of grievances, another voice interrupted the conversation.

"Ah, there you are, my friend! I have been looking everywhere for you."

The two stopped and Takuya froze. It was almost as if the stranger shrank as the taps of footsteps amplified in each stride.

"Oh, my bro Ayato. There you are." Itto faintly greeted him.

The third person smiled weakly.

Ayato always had excellent timing, it seemed. He curved a hand above Itto's shoulder and gave the stranger a cloudy sideways glance. His eyes were trained on the person in front of them, and in response, Takuya stood defensively. The horned "man" stepped back, preparing to sprint, while Ayato inserted two more steps into his space.

Ayato got in between both Itto and the stranger faster and more forceful than what the biker gang leader anticipated.

His voice was similar to yours when he spoke. It was dangerously low with unmatched vigor and sharpness above all else. "Excuse me, sir, but we're in a hurry. We will be taking our leave immediately."

Takuya nearly sighed in relief as the elegant man shut down the possibility of continuing a conversation. His trembling form bowed quickly while his foot was already turned in the opposite direction. They have to have known each other. Itto had never considered himself as astute, and yet he discovered that this "Takuya" isn't the real threat out of the three of them.

It was none other than Kamisato Ayato.

"Y-Yes... Yes, of course, sir. Farewell."

Takuya scurried away.

...

What was that all about?

What kind of stunts did Ayato pull around Shinjuku for him to come off as intimidating without his knowledge? Itto furrowed his eyes as he looked at Ayato's back. Children don't even find Itto scary, and he had the stereotypical troublemaker look. Ayato appears kind and gentle, maybe a bit standoffish, but his soft appearance shouldn't be able to scare some weird grunt away.

Ayato turned to face him.

Ah. So that's why.

His look of displeasure changed Itto's misconceptions immediately.

Ayato softened his expression once he realized Itto was staring, dumbfounded. He chuckled and tapped the biker's shoulder as if reminding him that the scary look wasn't aimed at him. Itto laughed nervously. Sure, it wasn't, but he made a mental note not to piss Ayato off, ever.

From that, Itto learned that Ayato can be as scary as you when he wants to be.

This man definitely got a dark side. Noted.

"Hey, uh, Ayato, did you see that?"

The light-haired man gave him an indifferent stare. "Saw what, exactly?"

"He had horns, my guy."

Itto began ruffling the top of his head– something he normally wouldn't do since he adores his hair– and created two triangular air shapes. His friend watched him, amused, but perplexed about what he was trying to communicate.

"Like, that dude got those devil horns going on– don't tell me you haven't seen it!"

"Hmm." Ayato hummed, a small grin plastered on his face.

"What would you do if I said I haven't seen anything? You're not afraid of yokai, aren't you?"

"What– C'MON!!!" Itto groaned loudly. "NOT YOU TOO– GAH!!! What's with you and (Y/n) today– enough with this "oooh-you're-afraid-of-this-aren't-yooouu" bullcrap! HELLO?!? I'm ARATAKI NUMERO UNO ITTO! Monsters and ghosts should be afraid of ME."

Ayato closed his eyes and shook his head, but his sly smile had not left his face. "Ah right, my apologies. How could I forget the unsurmountable one and oni Itto, how foolish of me."

"Exactl–..."

One and oni?

Itto both liked and didn't like the sound of that. Much like the taste of Kamisato Ayato's food, the phrase itched the nostalgic part of his brain. He couldn't tell where he first heard it. Ayato didn't even look like he made a mistake in saying "oni" instead of "only", rather, it slipped out of his tongue so naturally. Like he was hoping Itto would catch on to whatever he was implying.

Well, he didn't. He had no idea where Ayato was getting at and he only has about 2 brain cells left after that terrible migraine.

"And don't even joke about yokai stuff! I don't wanna get bad luck this Setsuban Festival."

Ayato raised an eyebrow.

"...I thought you were allergic to beans?"

"Yeah I am," Itto said. "And that's precisely I don't want any bad vibes for tomorrow. Can't have beans to save me from those onis, you know?"

Ayato muttered something Itto didn't hear.

"So you aren't fully human yet as well, hmm..."

"Say, why are you in the red light district? Don't tell me you're picking chicks around here."

Ayato refrained from rolling his eyes while Itto laughed.

"I'm not here for that, I'm trying to find a sist-- my little sister."

"Oh, oh! Tag me in! Lemme help. What does your sister look like?"

He appeared troubled when Itto volunteered to help. Ayato carefully chose his next words.

"She's shy and quite the formidable escapist. You wouldn't be able to find her unless you're looking at every nook and cranny."

"Sounds like bullshit."

Ayato technically didn't lie.

Itto continued. "Do you have a sister complex or something? Bro, I won't do anything to her. Just give me a description."

He shrugged. "Himegimi looks like me."

"Well, duh, of course, she does. Can't you be more specific? Like her height, hair, and eye color maybe--"

"Never mind it. Once she's tired of searching, she'll be back home soon enough."

"But, dude, your little sister is in the RED LIGHT DISTRICT! Aren't you worried--"

"She'll be fine."

"But men would--"

"She's small, they won't notice her."

Itto's unsure whether Ayato's brain is too advanced or he's acting stupid because that answer didn't make sense at all. Aren't smaller girls supposed to be in more danger around these parts? His head hurt. He always treated anyone smaller than him as kiddos-- and he can't imagine a kid can protect themselves from kidnappers.

Suddenly, they heard a strangle rumbling nearby.

Ayato looked at Itto and his stomach accusably.

He scratched his neck with a snobbish frown.

"Fiiiiine, I take it back. I'm hungry so I'll leave you searching for your sister. Alone. Without my help. At all."

Ayato, familiar with his antics by now, started leading Itto to walk alongside him.

"You're in luck then. I was planning to cook today. I haven't ordered Thoma to butcher the meat yet– but we will tonight. Perhaps you'd want to join me for dinner?"

"Holy shit, are you making those niku-dangos again?"

He nodded.

"For real? Hold on, let me tell grand-y first." He began messaging you.

"Haha, so you're back to calling our (Y/n) "Grand-y", I see."

Itto looked up from his phone. "Back to?"

Our?

Ayato nodded solemnly. Once again, he had that look that hints that he's trying to get Itto to remember something on his own, but Itto REALLY doesn't have the patience at this point. He's so dog-tired plus he's starving. Itto doesn't have time for any more mind games, whether it's that Takuya guy or Ayato.

Itto was surprised that you replied fast. Albeit, it was the default thumbs-up emoji and you might've mis-tapped but nu-uh, no takebacks allowed here, boss! Itto giggled like a preschooler as he bombarded you with smug Thank You stickers and emojis while you were (very slowly) typing a reply.

"From that look on your face, I am guessing that they agreed."

"Hell yeah, man! I can't wait to grab a bite of that sweet sweet taste of perfection, baby! C'mon, free delicious food? Count me in!"

"Wonderful."

Kamisato Ayato's lips contorted into a Cheshire cat-like grin.

"Let's eat him, together."

--------

Glossary:

Dango over flowers/hana yori dango: means "substance over style" or preferring a practical gift over something superficial.

Hakaiso: a monk who had sinned/had been considered depraved.

Himegimi: word for princess.

Sojo: a high-ranking Buddhist priest.

Setsubun Festival: a festival focused on purging houses of misfortune (b e a n s), often associated with oni imagery.

Runin: an exiled individual.

#tag: careful he bites #yandere genshin x reader #yandere #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere ayato #arataki itto x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere kamisato ayato #arataki itto fanfic #tw: cannibalism #ansy-writes

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shadowtriovibes · 11 months

Note

Ok 23 with either Sebastian or Ominis would HIT

"after everything you've done, i still love you. with all i am."

—

The stone walls of the Undercroft have never felt colder than when Ominis was propped up against them the night Solomon died.

Perhaps it was because so much of the warmth he’d previously experienced in that room seemed to have been burned away in just one night at Sebastian’s hand – all the memories of playing Gobstones with the Sallow twins, listening as Sebastian had begun to teach you proper defensive spells, even simply studying with his best friends for hours on end as their O.W.L. exams had approached.

Or perhaps it was because the feverishly warm weight of Sebastian against his body simply made everything else feel colder. Sebastian has a way of doing that, Ominis thinks; he burns so brightly that everything else feels dimmer, weaker, colder.

Ever since Sebastian had collapsed against him in grief and brought them both to the floor, his face has been buried in the crook of Ominis’ neck. Ominis doesn’t have to see him to know that he’s still crying – he can feel the warm, wet tears trailing down his neck to his collar.

“Wh-what have I d-done,” Sebastian asks over and over. “Wh-what am I g-going to d-do?”

“It’s going to be alright,” Ominis assures him each time. “We’re going to be alright, Sebastian, I promise.”

Ominis hadn’t seen it happen, but after returning to the castle you’d told him everything: that Solomon had destroyed the relic, that Sebastian had turned on him with the Killing Curse, that Anne had Apparated away with their uncle’s limp body.

Merlin, he can’t believe it’s come to this. Worst of all, he can’t believe he’s still here, clinging to Sebastian just as desperately as the boy is clinging to him.

This is the darkest of Dark Magic. Surely Ominis would never abide by it. By all rights, Sebastian should be on his way to the Ministry this very minute to face trial for what he’s done.

…And yet.

“Are th-they… are they g-going to come for m-me?” Sebastian eventually asks.

“No one’s going to come for you, Sebastian,” Ominis murmurs. “I’ll… I’ll reach out to Anne, all four of us will make a decision that’s–”

“Stay with me,” Sebastian pleads tearfully, tightening his fierce grip on Ominis’ jacket. “I… I l-love you, Ominis, and I’m s-so sorry. Say you’ll stay with me, p-please.”

“Oh, Sebastian,” Ominis sighs as he rubs his broad hands up and down the length of the other boy’s back. “After everything you’ve done, I still love you. With all that I am.”

Sebastian burrows closer to Ominis’ chest. “Surely you’re as m-mad as I am, then.”

“Perhaps I am,” Ominis murmurs into Sebastian’s hair..

“I don’t deserve to b-be here,” Sebastian continues. “Anne’s right, S-Solomon was right, I should be locked up for wh-what I’ve done.”

“I won’t let them,” Ominis insists. “I don’t care about ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t.’ I love you, I’ve always loved you and you’re staying right here with me.”

Sebastian is trembling, Ominis notices.

“I promise you,” Ominis insists. “We swore to each other we’d always protect each other, do you remember?”

“Yes,” Sebastian whispers.

“Then let me protect you,” Ominis croons. “I’ll talk to the Headmaster, I’ll talk to the Ministry... I’ll talk to Anne. We’ll make things better.”

Ominis doesn’t promise to make things right. He can’t, and they both know it. But he can keep Sebastian out of Azkaban, and that’s a good enough place to start.

#sebinis #sebastian x ominis #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #mini fic #i tried to write this in a way that lets you decide whether its romantic or platonic love #but in my mind its the former #REGARDLESS I BROUGHT THE ANGST

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skelletors · 4 months

Text

MCYT as D&D Characters 6 - Scar

Well. The ending of Secret Life sure was something, huh?

Hello one and all and welcome to this very strange series where I turn various MCYTs into playable D&D characters! This was originally going to be someone else, but in light of recent events I decided, hey, I should dedicate this to the S-Tier player himself, GoodTimesWithScar.

A few ground rules for this thing:

This will not be balanced and the builds may not be very good. This isn’t for the minmaxers (not that there's anything wrong with that), this is purely based on either stories these people have participated in or their overall persona on the internet

These characters will go up to level 20, but in no way do you have to play them to the max level to get all the mechanics that make up the character

There will be little to no homebrew in these builds, just for my own ease of use.

I will be using standard array for all of these characters (15, 14, 13, 12, 10, 8) when determining the stats for these characters, also for my own ease of use.

Character Traits to Emulate

Conman extraordinaire

Jellie

Somehow always a wizard???

No thoughts head empty

Race, Class, Background and Stats

Race: Half-Elf (There were a couple options for Scar, but I decided on half-elf as a sort of compromise between his depictions as an elf and the fact that Scar has the most “just a guy” energy.

Ability Score Increase: +2 to Charisma, +1 to two other stats (We’ll go Dexterity and Constitution)

Darkvision: You can see in the dark! Not super important for the character, but pretty useful

Fey Ancestry: Advantage against being charmed and you can’t be put magically to sleep

Skill Versatility: You can have proficiency in any two skills. (It doesn’t matter what you pick, but I’ll chose Persuasion and Intimidation)

Background: Charlatan (In nearly every server Scar has appeared on, he has been a liar or a con man or a salesman. This is perfect for him!)

Proficiencies: Deception, Sleight of Hand, Disguise kit, Forgery kit

Class: Bard 20 (I debated on Ranger or Bard, but I decided on Bard because Scar is not wise. I’m sorry, he is the least perceptive, least insightful man I’ve ever seen. Obviously said with love.)

Stats:

Strength: 13

Dexterity: 12 + 1 = 13

Constitution: 14 + 1 = 15

Intelligence: 10

Wisdom: 8

Charisma: 15 + 2 = 17

An important note: Considering that Scar is a disabled content creator and has shown positivity towards his disability being incorporated into fanart, I find it very important to add that this build works in tandem with the Combat Wheelchair by Sara Thomson. While I don’t normally go into homebrew, mostly for my own sanity, this is a well-made piece of homebrew and as such, I feel it’s important to link here while making a D&D character based off of a wheelchair user. I won’t be touching on this further, as any upgrades that can be made to the wheelchair are based on how much money a party has, rather than level.

Level 1: Bard

Bardic Inspiration! You can inspire your allies and give them an extra die a number of times equal to your Charisma Modifier

Spellcasting! I’m not really going to focus on this, but at the end I’ll list some key spells for Scar. If I remember lmao

Level 2:

Bardic Inspiration! You can inspire your allies and give them an extra die a number of times equal to your Charisma Modifier

Spellcasting! I’m not really going to focus on this, but at the end I’ll list some key spells for Wilbur

Level 3:

Subclass time! Potentially the best time. Or at least a good time. Regardless of the quality of the time, one thing that is undeniable is that it’s time for Scar’s subclass. The subclass, of course, being…

College of Glamour! Coming straight at you from Xanathar’s Guide to Everything, College of Glamour bards focus on deceiving and trickery and are as flamboyant as the Feywild, where they often originate. Sounds very much like Scar, and in previous characters, Grian did also originate from the Feywild…

Mantle of Inspiration - As a bonus action, you can use one of your Bardic Inspiration die to give a number of creatures equal to your Charisma modifier within 60ft who can see you 5 temporary hit points. They can also use their reaction to move without taking opportunity attacks.

Enthralling Performance - If you are able to perform for at least one minute (singing, performing a poem, dancing, etc) you can select a number of creatures equal to your Charisma Modifier within 60ft of you who paid attention to your performance. They make a Wisdom saving throw, and on a failed throw they are charmed by you after an hour. The creature is not aware of being charmed or you attempting to charm them.

Expertise! You get double proficiency with skills you are already proficient in. We’ll go with Deception and Persuasion

Level 4: Bard

Ability Score Improvement. Let’s add a +2 to Charisma, for hopefully obvious reasons, bringing Scar’s Charisma score up to 19

Level 5: Bard

Bardic Inspiration Improvement. The die you use is now a d8

Font of Inspiration: You regain all expended Bardic Inspiration after a short rest

Level 6: Bard

Countercharm: You can play a tune to give any allies within 30ft advantage against charm effects

Mantle of Majesty - As a bonus action, you can cast Command without expelling a spell slot and take on the appearance of someone beautiful for one minute or until concentration on your spell ends. A creature charmed by you automatically fails it’s saving throw against the spell and once you use this feature, you can’t use it until you finish a long rest.

Level 7: Bard

Nothing happens here, just more spell slots

Level 8: Bard

Ability Score Increase! We’re taking a Feat now, we’re gonna go with Fey Touched. This gives you a +1 to your Charisma, Wisdom or Intelligence, we’re going with Charisma bringing you to 20. You also learn Misty Step and another 1st level enchantment or divination spell.

Level 9: Bard

Song of Rest buff! It’s now a d8

Level 10: Bard

Bardic Inspiration buff! It’s now a d10

Expertise: You can get expertise in two more skills! I’m not sure what would be fitting, maybe Arcana and Sleight of Hand

Magical Secrets: Hey. Hey you. Sad that Bard doesn’t have Counterspell naturally? Now you can have it! You can choose two spells from any spellcaster. These spells count towards your known spell and have to be within your spell level, but aside from that, the world is your oyster! You could also get Find Familiar and get your very own Jellie familiar!

Level 11: Bard

Again, nothing happens here other than more spell slots. But who’s complaining about more spell slots?

Level 12: Bard

ASI Time babyyyyyyyy. We’re gonna grab another feat, this time the Actor feat. This gives you a +1 to Charisma as well as giving you advantage whenever you’re pretending to be someone you’re not. Like maybe a certain pirate on a certain pirate server. Also, your Charisma is now 21. Amazing.

Level 13: Bard

Song of Rest is now a d10!

Level 14: Bard

Remember what I said about Magical Secrets above? Yeah, do that again.

Unbreakable Majesty - Your appearance permanently gains an otherworldly appearance, like that of the fey. Along with this, as a bonus action, whenever a creature tries to attack you for the first time on a turn, they must make a Charisma saving throw vs your spell save DC. On a failed save, they cannot attack you and must attack someone else. On a successful save, it can attack you but has disadvantage on any saving throw against your spell next turn. This lasts for a minute and you can only use it once per long or short rest.

Level 15: Bard

Bardic Inspiration buff! It’s now the big, beefy d12. Oooooo. Ahhhhhh.

Level 16: Bard

ASI Time baby! We’re taking yet another feat, and this time it’s the Lucky feat! It’s undeniable that Scar is a very lucky person, and this feat gives you three free rerolls every long rest, either a roll you make or an attack made against you. I’m pretty sure since death saving throws are saving throws, this effectively gives you free rerolls to not perma-die. Pretty useful, considering how prone to death Scar tends to be.

Level 17: Bard

Song of Rest is now a d12

Level 18: Bard

Magical Secrets. See above Magical Secrets.

Level 19: Bard

Here we are, the final ability score improvement. We’re taking one last feat, and that’s the Shadow Touched feat. You can add a +1 to Charisma, Intelligence or Wisdom, obviously we’re going for Charisma. You also learn invisibility and another 1st level illusion or necromancy spell, and there are some fun ones out there. Even at higher levels, upcasting 1st level spells can be powerful. This also bring’s Scar’s Charisma to a monstrous 22. That’s a base +5 to every Charisma check you make, not factoring in proficiencies and expertise.

Level 20: Bard

Superior Inspiration: Whenever you roll initiative and you have no more Bardic Inspiration die, you regain one use. I still think this is a lame capstone ability, but whatever. The rest of this has been insane, we can be a bit lame.

Key Spells:

Cantrips

Vicious Mockery

Friends

1st Level

Disguise Self

Silvery Barbs

Speak With Animals

Find Familiar

Charm Person

2nd Level

Crown of Madness

Gift of Gab

3rd Level

Counterspell

Hypnotic Pattern

4th Level

Charm Monster

5th Level

Seeming

Modify Memory

Dominate Person

6th Level

Mass Suggestion

7th Level

Project Image

Mordenkainen’s Magnificent Mansion

8th Level

Mind Blank

Dominate Monster

9th Level

Wish

And with that, we conclude yet another one of these! Feel free to request more CCs to D&D-ify, and I truly hope that you enjoyed this. I put quite a bit of thought into this, and I got to look into both a subclass and a gamestyle that I don’t normally go for.

#mcyt dnd #myct #dnd #hermitblr #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #honestly the feywild desertduo parallels make me go insane #but i really cant get into it right now #d&d character

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raayllum · 1 year

Text

“just wait for me to come home” (my fic) x “dear callum” (tdp short) x S4

They said that, sometimes, we make sacrifices so that the ones we love don’t have to. It’s part of protecting them—part of protecting you. Taking on hard choices and going to dark places is an act of love. It’s a gift.

He wonders, not for the first time, why her love is the opposite of his. Why his love is staying and hers is leaving and why he always seems to be the one who loses. Loses her. [...] The moon’s phases may change from dark to light, but they are still always the moon. That is what it means to love.

And gods his eyes, sea green and swirling with so many emotions as he gazes at her. It’s scary that she can’t read them all any more the way she used to be able to. She sacrificed so much of him in going away. This is just one more thing. But he’s tired. She can see that much, worn on every edge he ever had. [...] Callum steps forward, his face unreadable. His eyes are bright with tears and his mouth keeps quivering, like he’s going to smile or sob or shout but hasn’t decided which yet. Rayla clings to the fact that not all of those options are bad, right? Maybe he doesn’t hate her. (She shouldn’t be hoping for that.)

“I didn’t find him,” Rayla says, her voice cracking.

“Because you wouldn’t have listened! Viren isn’t your fight and we both know it! You would’ve followed me out and I would’ve been weak and stayed—”

But I can’t let you stop me, Callum. No matter how much I want to. I have to be strong. No matter what. And if you said even one word to me, I wouldn’t be—couldn’t be. If I stay even until your eyes open and you yawn your silly morning yawn, I’ll break. I’ll still be here when the sun rises today, and the next day, and the next…

“Nothing’s changed?” he repeats, his temper rising, rapidly burning through the relief that she’s alright. He wouldn’t have had to worry for seven sleepless months if she was alright if she hadn’t left him in the first place. “You left me. Everything’s changed.”

“I’m going to go, and I’m going to die,” she says, sniffling. She’s never sounded so broken. Not even at the Midnight desert. “I can’t drag you down with me. I can’t—”

I have to go. I love you. I wish I could say that we will see each other again, but I don’t know if we will. I hope so.

“Rayla, please. Come home with me. Have a life with me. Don’t you want that? We were happy.” “Of course I want that,” she sobs, wiping at her face with the crest of her palms. She lets him tug her closer. “Of course I was happy. You—are the best thing in my life. I never wanted to leave you.”

“Callum... Nothing has changed. I can’t go home with you.” [...] “But I’ve never been as strong as you. I can’t even stay angry with you. I can't survive in a world without you. And that’s why I have to do this.”

It’s not the first time he’s watched her leave, but it does hurt the most. Because this time, Callum lets her walk away. Lets her leap into the trees.

10)

He drinks the phial and the spell is warm in his chest. A circular glow emanates from over his heart for a moment before his senses line up his spine, his feet moving forward. A compass needle pointing to his true south. For the first time in months, Callum can breathe.

She’s alive and she loves him and she’s close.

I will think of you under every full moon. Please don’t let this hurt too much. But, if it does—if you feel that soft aching—know that that piece of your heart isn’t missing. It’s not missing at all, Callum: I’m carrying it with me! Always. I love you. I love you so much.

Her letter is burned into the back of his brain. Dear Callum, I’m sorry you have to find this way, but I’m leaving. He murmurs it to himself quietly at night when he can’t sleep. I know that Viren isn’t really your mission and that you’d only be coming along because of me, deep down. I can’t risk you like that. Scrawls it on pages of his sketchbook when his hand wanders and his drawings deteriorate. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to you. Her parting words are the first thing he thinks of when he wakes up in the morning, and her absence never stings any less. I love you. Always.

11)

“The human boy has my key, doesn’t he?”

#rayllum #my fic #dear callum #s4 #predictions achieved #caylangst #arc 2 #cube hostage exchange theory #by extension #light and darkness motif #parallels #pretty passable i think #long post #love as 'weakness' & purest strength / there is a beautiful Upside Down truth etc etc.

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thyandrawrites · 8 months

Text

Tag memes

Uh I always forget to do these but thank you to everyone who tagged me in them!

Under a cut for length

Tagged by: @ciunasboinin

took this uquiz to find out what elemental writing type I am

My result: Fire Writer

You burn. In the night, under the hot sun, you burn. You shine in the darkest nights, bringing to your readers an immortal fire. No one is able to portray feelings better than you. Emotions burn your characters, making them matches in dark rooms, lighting up everything, and burning from their own hands. Your best is shown in short stories, where the flames of your character’s souls can burn brighter than ever, and become ashes. Your stories hold the most passionate love, soft sighs whispered against a lover’s skin, and the neon lights of a night club. Pain is your second name, and you don’t mind it. Wars, betrayal, yearning, a/b/o and enemy to lovers are your favorite tropes. But when you decide to comfort, the fierce fire that burns in your soul becomes the warm hug of a blanket in a cold day. Established relationships, per-relationship fluff and medical fics are great at showing this softer side of you. Keep burning, and show everyone how hard a fire can burn, even in the coldest of the nights.

I'd say it's really accurate. I based some of my responses on the comments I get on my fics so this seems to check out. Well, except for the a/b/o which is actually a squick of mine

Tagging: @starship--phoenix @draphrawrites if you feel like it, no pressure

Tagged by: @maddy-hat

Rules: Spell your url with Song Titles and tag many people as there are letters.

*opens my music library* Alright, here goes my taste in music. Good luck finding out how all of this makes sense together lol

T - trapdoor, 21 pilots

H - hero, amazarashi

Y - ?? Can't find one for this letter sorry

A - a demon's fate, within temptation

N - numb, linkin park

D - drown, bring me the horizon

R - ragin on a sunday, bohnes

A - a grave mistake, ice nine kills

W - why worry, set it off

R - radioactive, imagine dragons

I - Icarus, bastille

T - thousandfold, eluveitie

E - emperor's new clothes, panic!at the disco

S - ship in a bottle - fin

Tagging: I don't have 14 people to tag, so feel free to do this if you want to

#Tag memes #Since we're at it #If anyone knows how to delete a poll from a draft please lmk #It won't let me kill the thing or let me hit post unless I fill out the options #So annoying

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morvantmortuary · 2 years

Note

Maxi my love & 29 and/or 47 🥺🥺🥺🥺

“Come one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.”/“Are you holding back? Don’t.”

nonny, I am. so, so incredibly sorry it took this long. I’m sure you’ve entirely forgotten you sent this in by now, and for that, I totally understand. :’D but you will see, hopefully, why it took me a while to finish. I think this thing was 15k when I finally cut it off, and I was deeply tempted to go on.

so! when I say these two lines got in my head, I mean I took them and I ran a whole usian football field with them. I hope y’all like it, bc I certainly enjoyed myself writing it. I meant to have it up for Pride month, but alas, the best laid plans ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ here’s hoping you’ll find it just as queer now.

let me dirty up your mind (18+, mdni) --

summary: you explain to Maxi just how his peach of an ass makes you feel, and when he still doesn’t believe you, your afternoon takes a different direction while the two of you indulge in something new.

warnings: smut, mdni. discussions of gender feels/dysphoria, discovering queerness, coming out, some v v minor references to past closeting due to homophobia/transphobia. some verbal body worship, anal play, pegging, strap-on blowjob, handjobs, cum-eating, overstimulation, brief facesitting (afab receiving). feelings are shared in the middle of all of this, bc ofc. Maxi uses mostly fem petnames for reader, but I don’t think the word “girl” is used specifically.

general: this one’s for all my fellow queers who developed feelings for a murder blorbo and/or daniel brühl and his perfect ass. dedicated again to my saintly nonny, I really am sorry this took so goddamn fucking long. :’D

okay! here we go~

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d gone from a simple conversation to slowly, languorously spreading lube along the shaft of your strap-on while Maxi watched your every move, his face already ablaze with heat.

It’s not like the two of you hadn’t discussed this before, in that haze of first learning everything about each other, how your bodies responded to one another. The first time he’d lifted off your shirt to find one of your looser binders on a bad dysphoria day, he’d paused, suddenly less intent on railing you senseless and more curious to hear how or if you would like to be railed senseless, or if you’d rather be the one doing the railing. Maxi was different than a lot of your exes - understatement of the century in some cases, but still - and you remembered what followed as the most comfortable conversation you’d ever had with someone about how you worked. How you understood yourself, how it felt like sometimes the world was just determined to sing your name off-key, or how they kept writing it with the wrong spelling, but more. How it felt when you knew people looked at you and didn’t see you right. How sometimes you weren’t sure what you were supposed to look like or feel like, anymore.

He’d sat in front of you on your bed in just his boxers, watching patiently with his warm brown eyes and handing you a tissue when you got overwhelmed and teary with the weight of taking inventory of yourself. He’d intertwined his fingers with your free hand, asking you question after question with his thumb tracing your knuckles: what should he call you on days like today? When did you like being his “good girl,” and when did you want to be something else? What wasn’t he thinking to ask?

He spoke slowly and softly, his eyes never leaving your face and never once pulling away, and inside, you felt something light up that had been dark for a long time. It was all the things you’d been holding back - hesitating to explain, not wanting to see someone’s eyes glaze over again, or the tight smile when you asked if they could please just call you what you wanted. You weren’t going to have to drag them out of your chest one at a time and nervously hold them up for someone to see, hoping they wouldn’t immediately roll their eyes. Maxi just listened, and nodded at each new thing you told him, and asked to see whatever else was hidden inside you like it was perfectly ordinary.

He was more than willing to open up himself, then - a little shyer, pulling his knees to his chest as his eyes fell to your bedspread. He told you about his first crushes when he was young: one of the few good friends he ever had in middle school, a boy with dark hair in cornrows and warm deep skin, then a red haired girl with freckles who always smelled like laundry detergent and fresh cut grass. How he kept his cards close to his chest until he could drive something other than the hearse, and all of high school was just hushed, messy encounters in the backs of cars and hidden in alleys that no student at his school would ever acknowledge in the light of day (not with him, not with the family he belonged to, anyway). How he’d briefly met the red-haired girl again when he graduated and they lived together for a year and came to hate each other, and how his only serious boyfriend had been another student at the mortuary school who’d he’d never told where he lived and promptly ghosted upon getting his certification. You understood how deep he must have reached into himself to tell you this - how he couldn’t quite look at you, his voice soft and stuttering more than usual.

With hindsight, you would’ve said he almost had a harder time telling you this truth than telling you about the Curse later. But for this confession, you knew what to do. You knew how this felt. You traced your thumb over his hand, listening silently, taking everything he handed you and putting it safe behind your own bones next to what you kept there yourself. You knew what it meant to be heard. When at last he let out a shaky breath, reaching the end of this, you asked him all the ways you didn’t know how to make him feel loved in his own skin - what might not occur to you, what you might need some assistance giving him, but were determined to do so nonetheless.

Neither of you ever once let go of the other’s hand.

The way he’d wrapped his arms around you after - loose in just the right places, firm in the ones that made you feel safe - felt like the first good, solid hug you’d had in a long time. The two of you had just laid there the rest of the night, tracing each other’s scars and talking in low whispers, though for once neither of you were afraid of being overheard.

Cut to today - time, new scars, and a magic you didn’t quite understand between the two of you - and this afternoon had honestly started innocently enough.

He’d come back from a wake as you were sitting in his office, tapping away at your latest project on your laptop. You’d gotten weirdly used to sitting in the office off the embalming room in the first sub-basement - for reasons you didn’t understand (and maybe didn’t want to), the wifi was still weirdly perfect, and something about it felt… it was hard to explain. Lighter, than the rest of the House somehow. Less likely to be engulfed abruptly by gloom, despite being the closest to the dearly departed. Maybe because it was a room that felt like Maxi, with a framed photo of the two of you on his desk (a particularly adorable candid Hector snapped in the graveyard when it first snowed, and begrudgingly gave him for Christmas) and a stash of sour candy in his bottom desk drawer (next to an emergency bottle of whiskey). Maybe it was the fact that he triple-layered salt in the corners of the room out of client eyesight, who knows. You’d been in flow state for a while when you heard his familiar footsteps on the stairs; he’d gotten in the habit of announcing himself, in a way, after the third time he’d accidentally startled you and the first time you notched a scalpel an inch from his eye in the doorframe. After that, a discussion was had, and protocols were established.

Maxi hopped the last step and beelined right for the open office door, where he opened his mouth in a bright smile to say hello — and then paused, immediately turning around as he held up a finger to walk back out for his phone or something. This gave you ample time to watch him leave.

“My favorite distraction,” you’d joked, making a point to close your laptop and plant your chin in your hands as he’d walked away. “You have a decent crowd today, babe?”

“More than I’d thought, actually!” Maxi chirped, walking back in with his phone in hand. “I hate to say it - bless her heart - but I wasn’t actually expectin’ a turn-out like that for Miz Elmwood.”

“Oh yeah?” You’d paused in your appreciation, your eyes flicking back to his. “Why, no old flames? No siblings with a grudge?”

“No anybody,” Maxi shrugged, leaning against his file cabinets in front of you. “Heard she wasn’t very popular at the senior center, either. I was walkin’ in thinkin’ it was gonna be empty, but damn if all the ladies of the Greymoon Historical Society weren’t there.”

You couldn’t help a smirk curl at the corner of your mouth. “You don’t say?” You leaned slightly over the desk, making a show of confirming your suspicion with a knowing look. “Mmmhm. That it explains it.” You leaned back in his antique leather chair, wondering if you looked as smug as you felt in that moment.

“…What?” Maxi looked at you, then looked down at his shoes and back again. “Explains what, gorgeous?”

“You’re wearing the grey pants today,” you said as you tried to fight a grin.

Maxi blinked at you, uncomprehending. “Well… yeah. If I’m wearin’ the grey suit, the pants need to match.” He looked down and back at you again, as if trying to figure out if he should be self-conscious or not. “Is there somethin’ wrong with ‘em?” he asked, the tiniest bit of concern creeping into the voice.

You giggled, unable to help yourself. “No.” You shook your head. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with those pants. In fact,” Your grin broke through as he looked back to you. “I bet if you wore those every day, you’d have the best attended funerals in the parish.” You chewed your lip for a moment, thoughtful. “What time did you get to the chapel this morning?”

“9:30, service was at eleven,” Maxi said without hesitating, his brow furrowed. “Wanted to say hi to the pastor first, set up the flowers.”

“Mm. And you picked up the flowers from the usual place?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Della’s, yeah. But that’s not it,” he shook his head, and you couldn’t help but think about how adorable he looked when he was confused. “My grandpa was the one that started goin’ there, that’s where we’ve always gone. ‘Til Rora gets the garden established enough that we can do it in-house, anyway.”

“And who’s the person who handles pick-ups in the morning?” You prompted, smirking again like fucking Sherlock Holmes over here. Living in a town as small as Greymoon meant you knew all of this already, even if you hardly went to these places yourself: Maxi knew just about everybody, even if just on a congenial level due to his work, and you in turn heard all about them when he told you about his day.

“Miz Amelia,” he said slowly, still staring into space as he tried to figure out what you were getting at. “…But what’s she got to do with it?” He looked back to you, shrugging.

“Amelia’s also in the Historical Society, right? And she was there today?”

“Yeah,” Maxi nodded.

You muffled a full laugh, gesturing at him. “You just answered your own question, handsome.”

Maxi pursed his lips thoughtfully, then crossed to the desk, placing both palms on the surface to lean over conspiratorially. “Clearly,” he said, nodding with an exaggerated sage expression. “…But, let’s say we had to hypothetically explain it to someone who didn’t know just what you were on about? What would we say, exactly?”

You cracked up laughing, and he beamed, unable to resist at the sound. “Maxi,” you managed, still fighting giggles. “Amelia saw you were wearing the grey suit and called all her old lady friends so they could come check out your ass the whole time! It’s obvious!”

Maxi immediately went bright pink, looking somewhere between vaguely scandalized and amused. “Are you impugnin’ the honor of the good ladies of Greymoon?” he asked with an overdramatic flourish, still trying to keep up the bit.

“No, they have excellent taste, clearly,” you said, gesturing to him. “Your ass is always great, babe, but it’s a whole Second Line when you wear the grey suit.”

You watched as he went fully red, looking sheepishly away even as he laughed to himself. “You better watch that mouth of yours, you liar.”

“I’m dead serious! Have you seen you?” You got pushed back from the desk and walked around to his side, determined now. “Here.” You seized his hand, pulling him to a full length mirror he kept in the office for when he switched between his embalming scrubs and his suit.

“Okay, okay, I accept your conspiracy theory,” Maxi rolled his eyes, holding your hand but not making any move to follow you. You looked back at him, and saw him wavering - still smiling like he was laughing with you, but like he was internally trying to figure out if you were teasing him or not. “The little old ladies of Greymoon have a phone tree they use for nefarious purposes. Next you’ll tell me they rig the jambalaya competition every year.”

“It’s not a conspiracy theory when I’m right,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “Come here and let me show you.” You tugged on his hand again gently, but he still didn’t move, glancing from you to the mirror with a hesitant face. “…Baby,” you faux whined, swinging your joined hands between the two of you childishly. “You tell me all the time how into me you are, let me have a turn.” You play-pouted when he looked back to you, knowing that was a weakness he’d never openly cop to, but had nonetheless.

Sure enough, he sighed. “That’s different,” he half-mumbled, letting you pull him over towards the mirror. He was still smiling at you, but you could see where it didn’t meet his eyes. “You were some lovely creature that tripped into my cemetery while I was sweaty and covered in dirt.” He stood with you in front of the mirror, giving himself a cursory glance while taking more interest in you. “Then you stayed,” he added under his breath, his eyes softening as he looked you over.

“First of all, I would’ve done unspeakable things to you in the hearse while you were still sweaty and dirty. Hell, I would now,” you said casually, prompting Maxi’s familiar giggle-snort as he turned to meet your eyes again. “I didn’t want to freak you out, though, considering we’d just met. And second of all,” you reached up and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, spinning him so he was standing sideways in front of the mirror with you. “You really want to stand there and tell me you don’t look good?”

“This is how I always look, darlin’, I’ve had this suit for years,” Maxi said, giving it another critical once-over. “…Kind of impressed it’s still holdin’ up, actually.”

“Daddy, you’re killing me,” you rolled your eyes again, not missing his soft inhale at the name. “Here, look—“ you reached around him, pulling him flush against you as you blatantly grabbed his ass with both hands for emphasis. “Look at that and tell me that’s not a gift.”

Maxi made a noise that was half an embarrassed squeak, half his laugh. “C’mon now, chances are I’m already buyin’ you dinner, flattery is unnecessary.”

“I’m serious!” You squeezed the flesh in your hands, watching him giggle flusteredly in the mirror. “Do you have any idea how often I look at you and forget how words work for a minute?”

Maxi looked nearly overwhelmed, his hands finding their natural place at your waist after a second of clearly not being sure what to do. “I appreciate you bein’ sweet, pretty.” He wasn’t quite looking at you still, half-heartedly glancing between you and the mirror.

You turned to face him directly, standing up on your tiptoes. “I mean it.” You locked eyes with his as your voice dropped, your face serious as your lips were barely an inch from his. “Do you have any idea how often I forget what I’m working on because I catch sight of you, and then I really, really just want to bend you over and…” You trailed off, suddenly realizing just how detailed you were about to get with that particular fantasy. You felt your face heat, biting your lower lip to shut yourself up. This had escalated quickly.

But Maxi was searching your face, eyes going slightly wide as you trailed off. He was silent, and for a moment you’d wondered if you’d gone too far — until he tilted his head. “…And?” he prompted, his voice just slightly breathless.

The air in the room was suddenly thick, and you weren’t sure if it was warm in here or if it was just your face. “I—“ You hesitated, your mouth open slightly as you saw just how dark eyes eyes got in the span of a second, his hands squeezing your hips just a little harder. You licked your lips slowly, not once looking away. “…Are you busy this afternoon, by any chance?” you asked softly, oddly shy now.

“Not anymore,” Maxi shook his head quickly, his eyes growing darker still behind his glasses. “Now, you gonna finish that thought, or what?”

You’d made a quick trip back to your apartment for your essentials, and when you’d gotten back to the House he was already waiting for you at the front door, catching you as you walked in with a kiss like teeth and hunger.

You smiled against his lips at the feeling of a hand on your hair, one on your waist, backing you up to the front door as it closed. “I told you I’d be right back,” you laughed, a little breathlessly when he finally let you go.

“I know, I just missed you.” Maxi was barely an inch from your face, hands moving to rest lightly on either side of your shoulders on the door.

You caught his jaw with your free hand, your thumb traveling down the line of it affectionately. “Needy already?” You couldn’t help but smile, seeing him open his mouth briefly to protest… before closing it again with the slightest pout.

“Did you get what you wanted, gorgeous?” he asked instead, glancing curiously down at the dark duffel bag in your hand.

“That and then some.” You kissed the end of his nose while he was distracted. “Now, our room?”

“Uh. Well.” Maxi glanced at the staircase, biting his lip thoughtfully before he looked back to you. “…You’re gonna think I’m bein’ needlessly weird.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,” you said with exaggerated grimness. Maxi rolled his eyes at you before you set a hand reassuringly on his chest. “Whatever you need to be comfortable, Maxi, it’s fine. I’m not about to argue.”

At the sound of his name out of your mouth, you saw him visibly relax a bit. “…Let’s go to my old room,” he said at last, looking back to you. “I know it’s not… our usual,” he said quietly, off your curious head tilt. “But I just… it’s more—“

“You don’t want me to fuck you in the room that used to be your parents’ room?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Again, I’m not arguing,” you soothed, fiddling with his tie when his overactive capillaries turned his skin pink again. “Wherever you want to go, baby, that’s perfect. Hell, I’d be cool with the graveyard if it weren’t still light outside,” you added with a shrug.

Maxi paused before he could get his words out, as if considering this. “…We’re gonna come back to that later, because I like the way you think,” he said, pointing to you and making you laugh again. He glanced at the stairs again, his gaze wandering reflexively upward. “But it’s just--“

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” you said softly, tugging slightly on his tie so he looked back down at you. “Seriously, whatever you need to do. I want you to feel safe, okay?”

“But I don’t want you to think there’s some… double standard, about this,” he said, his brow furrowing anxiously. “I don’t want you to think I think it’s different if I’m— or, well, if I’m not— if you’re—“ He gestured frustratedly, trying to find the words.

“Honey.” You dropped the bag next to your feet, taking his face gently in your hands and forcing him to hold your gaze. “I love you. You know that.” He nodded instinctively against your palms. “I know you love me just as much, and I know there’s not a double standard. We can do this in your old room if it means you can relax, it’s totally okay with me.”

Maxi sighed, leaning down so his forehead rested against yours. “…I haven’t done this in ages,” he explained softly, his arms loosely circling your waist. “And when I did, I never brought someone… here. And sure, maybe it’s ridiculous, but I’d just… rather not be surrounded by all my parents’ antique furniture covered in dust and disapproval while we’re tryin’ somethin’ new, y’know?” He winced, and you weren’t sure if he realized he had done so.

“There’s no dust in that room, and you and I both know that,” you murmured reassuringly, lifting your face to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’re in there with the polish and the rag like clockwork, you big Virgo.” You smiled a little when you heard him give a low exasperated chuckle, then met your eyes again. “I won’t disagree about the furniture, though - I’ve definitely felt mildly judged by the armoire at the end of the bed after a night or two.”

“Mahogany just has that feelin’,” Maxi nodded. “I swear, it’s always the hardest casket to sell - you can only picture the person inside frownin’ the whole time.”

“You’re such a nerd,” you cooed, giving him a proper kiss at last. “Now come on,” you said, grabbing your bag again and taking his hand. “Let’s go have fun with this, okay?”

Maxi squeezed your hand slightly, his shoulders finally relaxing as his smile reached his eyes. “Lead the way, pretty.”

It took you everything not to wander around Maxi’s childhood bedroom like a museum whenever you were in there. It was a rare occasion; he preferred to romance you in the much more spacious, airy master bedroom on the third floor, with the west-facing windows, the four-poster bed, and the clawfoot tub in the adjoining bathroom. Here felt entirely different: walls clumsily painted black in a fit of teenage pique; scary movie posters and flyers for tiny local bands that never made it hanging on with yellowed tape; faded red curtains that look like they’d barely survived a fight with a belligerent straight razor, covering the small window that overlooked the empty side of the yard. It made you both a little amused and a little sad to see that your usually meticulous boyfriend’s room had once looked like yours often did, after a particularly rough tango with your old friend depression. But there were little joys, if you knew where to look: his Playbills for his favorite musicals were carefully kept in a bottom drawer of a beat-up old desk, his stuffed gator from when he was small was hidden under his bed with its button eyes, an entire collection of vintage horror comics kept in a long white box next to his rickety bookshelf. And your real favorite: photos all over the far wall of the room, badly lit and sometimes blurry polaroids of teenaged Morvants. You could only assume Hector was the photographer - he only showed up in some of them, and even then only from the now-familiar vantage of a selfie (usually making a goofy face with Maxi, occasionally clearly trying to tempt Rora into participating). You were smiling to yourself as you walked slowly past a collection of them, giggling softly at Maxi’s too long-bangs and braces, Rora’s perpetually annoyed expression and frosted lipgloss, Hector’s barely-there wisps of the beard he had now.

The now-adult Maxi groaned quietly behind you, and you turned to see him leaning against his closed door on the other side of the room. He’d changed out of his suit into just some sweatpants - still grey, you noticed with a small flutter in your stomach - but he had his arms folded over his chest, the familiar rogue curl of his hair falling loose onto his forehead.

“I forgot why I never bring you in here,” he muttered, nodding at the photos with a grimace. “Especially not…” He trailed off, rolling his bony shoulders towards you in a shrug that explained the rest of his thought.

“Oh, hush,” you soothed, crossing the room to him. “You’re adorable in those photos, I love them.”

Maxi made a small, doubtful noise of protest as you hugged his bare torso, his hands running from your shoulders possessively down your sides. “Let’s just say I’m grateful I met you when I did,” he said quietly, his grimace cracking into something softer as you nuzzled the scar over his heart.

“Here, look,” you said, looking back up to his eyes and resting your chin on his chest. “If it makes you feel any better, next time we’re at mine, I’ll show you my high-school pictures. Then we’ll be square, right?” You tilted your head to meet his still hesitant gaze.

“…I saw some of yours, back when,” he admitted with a shy half-smile. “Diggin’ through your old facebook.” He giggled as you let out your own frustrated groan, wrapping his arms more securely around your waist and swaying with you in a playful hug. “You were cute with your hair like that. Different, but cute.”

“God, I’m never doing that again,” you rolled your eyes, swaying with him. “I kept it for a while for a boyfriend who said he liked it at the time, and all it got me were some terrible photos.”

“Good.” Maxi kissed your forehead, nuzzling your cheek with the end of his nose. “…He didn’t know what suited you, anyway,” he added with a defensive mumble.

You giggled, turning to kiss his cheek. “Look, if it really makes us even,” you said, smiling as he kissed softly down your neck and to your shoulder. “I’ll show you some of the prom ones I hid before I went to college. …Unless you found those already, you fucking snoop,” you teased.

Maxi made a curious noise, releasing the spot he’d been marking with a soft ‘pop’ to look at you over the frames of his glasses. “…With the white dress?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You smirked, pleased you still had some secrets. “Nope. That was junior prom. I wore a pink one to my boyfriend’s senior prom to please my mother.”

“No,” Maxi gasped, looking at once smitten with the idea and mildly horrified on your behalf.

“It’s true,” you said with a grim nod. “Bright pink. You could’ve spotted me from across the hotel, in their little, like, pretend ballroom or whatever.”

“That’s awful, darlin’,” Maxi said, his eyes wide as he clearly struggled to balance his discomfort for you and his amusement at the thought. “…I bet you were just precious, though,” he added quietly, his smile winning out at last.

“You better be careful, Morvant,” you warned, your voice exaggeratedly threatening in a way your teasing smile completely undermined. “I might just revoke your Choosing privileges.”

Maxi paused, gaze wandering over to your black bag at the end of his bed. “…I thought you were doin’ that anyway?” he tilted his head as he looked back to you.

You shook your head, kissing his collarbone. “Nope. That’s all you, handsome.” You pulled back to meet his eyes. “That’s the rules: I picked the color already, you pick the size.”

Maxi looked from you to the bag again, hesitating with an expression of both apprehension and curiosity.

“Here,” you said quietly, lacing your fingers through his left hand. “C’mon.” You pulled him over to his bed, sitting down next to the bag and unzipping it as he hovered next to you.

You took out four dark-colored toys of sleek, clean silicone, laying them out in increasing size on his bed. You’d stuck with the ones on the smaller, leaner side - those were easier to control, and if this was going to be your first time trying this together, there was no need to go with the big guns just yet and stress you both out.

“Shi-it,” Maxi drawled in genuine surprise, looking at you with an arched brow and the beginnings of a faint blush. He shuffled slightly in place, crossing his arms again. “You do this a lot, sugar?”

“I bought most of these for me, or a girlfriend du jour,” you said with a shrug. You paused, fidgeting slightly with his duvet. “I… actually haven’t done this with a guy before,” you confessed, smiling shyly.

Maxi blinked, then smiled a little himself. “Oh. …Well. I’m honored,” he said, leaning down to kiss the end of your nose. “I, on the other hand, have only done this with guys,” he added with a chuckle, reaching up to push his hand nervously through his hair.

“Cool, okay, firsts all around,” you said, trying to seem nonchalant with a shrug. “So we’ll just play this by ear.”

“Sure,” Maxi returned your shrug, clearly trying to match your chill about this himself. He looked back to your assortment, seeming to relax a little more now that he knew this was going to be something new for both of you. He sized them up thoughtfully, his tongue subconsciously tracing his lower lip in a way that made heat rush to your face. After a moment, he reached forward, his hand hanging in the air before he nudged the base of your second-largest one with his knuckle. “That’ll work.”

“Looks good to me,” you said softly, your voice already fading a little bit at the idea of teasing your boyfriend with that particular toy. You picked up his selection, testing the weight of it in your hands as if just holding it for the first time. You felt like you were seeing it with new eyes now as you re-explored its shape and length, curious what made this the one Maxi chose - if he was going easy on himself for a first time, or if this was about what he could handle. You were lost for the briefest of moments, a lick of heat spreading through you as you wondered just what he’d handled before, tantalized by the possibility of wrecking him in the way he so often left you feeling wrecked in turn.

When you glanced up at him, your next question froze on your tongue, seeing the way he was watching your grip on the dildo as he bit his lip. You cleared your throat, and his eyes found yours again with a slight start, but you were sure you couldn’t quite hide the want that was starting to spread at the core of you. “You, um.” You felt your tongue dart over your own lips, wondering if it was warm in here or if it was just you. “You wanna warm up with one of those while I get this on, babe…?” You jerked your chin towards the smaller options left on the bed.

Maxi shyly shook his head, smiling. “I’ve got my own for that,” he admitted, nodding towards a nightstand that looked like a relatively recent addition to the rest of his old room.

You followed his gaze, looking between him and the dark furniture. “Oh! Okay, cool,” you nodded. “Perfect.” You paused, your eyes flicking back to his. “You, um, want me to use that instead…?” You were thinking quickly, hoping the O-ring of your harness would fit whatever he happened to pull out.

“Nah, yours’ll be fine,” Maxi nodded towards the toy you were still holding. “…Probably be more fun, anyway,” he added with a smirk.

You felt your breath catch as his voice sent a white hot bolt straight to your clit, trying to keep your face in check - but realizing it was pointless when his eyes went dark, his lips parting just slightly at your expression. “…Okay,” you said quietly, suddenly feeling a touch overwhelmed with how much you actually wanted to do this.

“Okay,” he echoed, his hands flexing slightly at his sides, and you could hear a mix of your own nerves and anticipation in his voice.

You two switched spots - you standing next to his bed as you swept the unchosen toys back into the bag, him sitting on the edge to watch you. This was a little weird, being much less spontaneous than the two of you just ripping each other’s clothes off and falling into bed. But there was something to the preparation aspect you found yourself enjoying; the feeling of enacting something ritualistic as you pulled out your harness, fitting the dildo inside the O-ring before turning your back to him. You took your time shedding your clothes - dragging your shirt and compression bra up over your shoulders, letting your shorts slide slowly down your lush thighs. When you slipped off your scant excuse for underwear, you heard the softest whine from the bed behind you.

You glanced coyly over your shoulder, meaning to tease - but froze in place instead, mesmerized by the sight you found.

Maxi was watching you with his familiar dark hunger, his sweatpants and boxers pulled hastily down his thighs to reveal his waiting cock, already dripping at the head and stretched against his soft stomach. But while that was a welcome sight in itself - one that had your tongue tracing across your lower lip before you were quite conscious of it - it was something else that had rather caught your attention.

You turned around entirely, captivated with the sight of him working a smaller toy in and out of himself with a deft hand. His pale skin was already flushed to his shoulders, his hips twitching slightly as the lubed — glass? Were you seeing glass? - rod penetrated him fluidly, leaving him already panting a bit as you watched him adjusting around it.

Your knees briefly threatened to fail you, as it felt like your entire face caught fire at the spectacle of your boyfriend’s bitten lip and quiet whine.

Maxi, who had been blatantly letting his gaze roam up and down your now-bare form, regained a somewhat unsteady smirk when he caught sight of your expression. “Now, baby,” he said slowly, his voice betraying him a bit as he pushed his warmup piece further than he had a minute ago. “Y-you’re not just gonna stand there and watch, are you?”

You blinked, remembering just what it was you were supposed to be doing. “And let you have all the fun? Hell no.” You shook your head perhaps a touch too eagerly, and he chuckled. You turned back to the harness, lifting it over your thighs and settling the various straps into place. You checked each side to make sure it wouldn’t chafe before moving to fasten it around you —

“Wait.”

You froze, looking to Maxi with concern. “You okay?”

Maxi nodded, still gazing at you with a dreamy haze over his eyes. “You, um… want help?” He nodded at the harness straps in your hands, his expression a muddle of curiosity and need.

You couldn’t help but smirk, realizing what this was. “Is it more that you want to give me a hand, Maxi?”

Maxi nodded again, and as his eyes fell to the harness, you distinctly saw his cock twitch where it lay.

Unable to suppress a grin, you walked back to the side of his bed, holding it in place as he set the glass rod back on the nightstand and sat up eagerly. He took your murmured instructions like gospel, notching each belt exactly where you needed it, tugging with just enough force to make sure they were solidly fastened, then near-greedily watching you run your thumbs along the insides to make sure they would hold without cutting into your skin.

When you were satisfied, you leaned back slightly to admire yourself in the strap-on. It had been a weird sensation when you first tried it, to be sure — you weren’t used to having anything there, much less something with weight and mass — but once your brain adjusted to having something so intimately attached to you, you had to admit: it was hot.

“Fuck me,” Maxi murmured, taking in the sight himself with something akin to awe.

“We’ll get to that,” you reassured him, undeniably enjoying the way he seemed to like you in this as much as you did. You went to avail yourself of the bottle of lube he’d used on his glass object earlier, but he caught your wrist delicately, causing you to look up with a raised eyebrow. “Babe?”

“Here, just- we’ll get to that,” Maxi echoed absently, his voice somewhat flustered in its hush. He surprised you by stepping out of bed before gently grabbing your hips, switching your positions so you were now back against the edge of the mattress.

“What do you…“ your voice failed you as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding from your hips down your thighs like velvet.

Your question was immediately answered by the way his tongue slipped out to wet his lips, dark eyes traveling from your face to your strap and back again.

Oh.

He drummed the fingers of his left hand lightly on your thigh, the shy smile he gave as he looked up at you making your whole nervous system feel electric. “Well.” Maxi half-shrugged, casual. “You’re always so… obligin’, y’know,” he said quietly. “I figured… might as well return the favor, now that I have the chance.”

You had to swallow, your brain pleasantly fuzzy. “I- As long as you want to, babe,” you managed, a touch breathless.

Maxi’s pupils were endless dark pits. “Oh, trust me, sugar,” he said, shifting on his knees so he was more between yours where you perched. “I do.”

So you were willing to be this wasn’t quite the same as when you did it. But just the sight of his pink tongue tracing up the underside of your strap’s black matte shaft knocked the breath from your lungs, feeling your own eyes widen as it left.

You were deeply glad you’d chosen a strap that gave some sensation on your end of things as well, the ridged base of the o-ring grinding against your clit as Maxi took his time tracing every inch.

When his eyes met yours, gazing up at you from hip height, your toes about curled. You absolutely understood how he seemed to quickly lose all powers of speech when it was your turn — even if the feeling wasn’t quite the same skin-wise, just the sight of him on his knees for you left your insides a molten mess.

“Fuck, you’re so hot like that, Maxi, that’s not even fair,” you murmured, your hands unclenching from his duvet to stroke his hair.

Maxi made a noise between a whine and an appreciative hum, his lips suctioning around the tip of your shaft as your fingers combed out the last of the careful hair gel. You gasped as he took you into his mouth, your hands curling into fists faster than you’d realized.

He didn’t seem to mind at all that you were pulling a little — if anything, he made a show of taking you deeper still, the sound of his saliva on the silicone leaving you feeling intensely warm even if it wasn’t direct contact. You obliged him by pulling a bit harder, and you swore you could feel his moan vibrating down your length.

His hands resettled around your upper thighs, taking you by surprise as you were reminded you existed as a whole body. He tugged gently, causing your hips to rock just slightly, and you steadied yourself quickly against his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” You watched his face anxiously, worried about him choking by accident. You had a bit… more to deal with, when it was your turn, but still — you knew choking in this particular situation could really suck.

Maxi huffed air lightly around you, and you realized he was laughing. He tugged to shift your hips again, and you realized after a moment he was asking you to thrust.

“Oh.” Something white hot squeezed at your core at the idea. “…You’re sure?”

Maxi glanced up at you again, something in his eyes the slightest bit sardonic as you felt another huff of air. You got the vibe he felt vaguely insulted you were doubting his abilities.

“Okay, okay.” You were unable to help a smile. Your hand moved from his shoulder to his chin, keeping eye contact. “You tell me as soon as something feels off,” you said softly, brushing his hair away from his glasses - which, you noticed with a small flutter, were fogged from the attention he was paying to you. “Promise?”

Maxi squeezed once at your thighs - your silent signal that everything was fine.

You leaned down, kissing the top of his head as best you could (he craned up just slightly to help you in that regard). After a second to plant your feet for more stability, you hesitated, calculating just slightly — overthinking, you were sure — before thrusting carefully into Maxi’s mouth.

Maxi gave a small moan - something along the lines of “Finally” - and squeezed your thighs again.

You nodded, giving your hips more of an experimental snap, and you heard him moan again lower in his chest. Another, more insistent squeeze to your thighs.

“Okay, fine,” you murmured, one hand coming up to rest on top of his head. He looked up at the touch, and the two of you locked eyes as you allowed yourself a small smirk. “But remember: you asked.”

Maxi’s eyes were onyx, nearly engulfed by his pupils as he nodded once.

You put more force in your hips, your hand curling in your boyfriend’s hair as you thrust hard into his mouth.

Maxi’s groan was a one of raw enjoyment, and you watched him adjust to take you deeper as the two of you established a pleasant pace. He was a sight — saliva dripping from his lower lip and down the shaft to the tops of your thighs, his breath hot and shallow against your hips. Your hand tangled further into his hair, mussing it, and you felt yourself clenching at the sight of him looking so debauched. His noises of pleasure, combined with the slick sounds of his spit over your strap, went straight to the core of you.

You could get to used to this, you thought, admiring Maxi’s face as you fucked his throat thoroughly.

You were so taken with the feelings, wanting to get closer, that you didn’t realize you’d thrust a little too hard until he gagged around you.

“Oh shit,” you panted, your hand immediately leaving his hair to pull away. “Shit, I’m sorry, baby, are you okay?”

Maxi came up for air at last, and as concerned as you were, the sight of tears at the corners of his eyes mixed with his mussed hair and the saliva still dripping down his chin left you feeling a new strain of… possessive, almost. Jesus. It was absurd how he somehow looked more delicious the messier he got.

Maxi let out a low, hoarse laugh as he wiped his mouth. “I’m fine, pretty, I promise,” he said, looking up at you. “If I had to pause a blowjob every time I gagged, I would’ve never had time for anythin’ else in my twenties.”

He froze as this statement hung between the two of you, glancing at you as if he wasn’t sure how you’d take that. You couldn’t blame him — old instincts died hard, especially in a town as small as this.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip at the image of him playing out in your mind, tilting your head as you looked him over while still on his knees in front of you. “…If that’s the case,” you said slowly, reaching up to twist his familiar loose curl around your finger. “I almost want to make you keep going.” The twisted curl became a whole lock of hair that you pulled to force his head back. You weren’t sure when the two of you had fallen into this particular dynamic — whether it was the offer to blow you, or him wanting to help you with your harness, or what. But it was definitely new.

Maxi’s eyes gleamed, his lips slightly puffy from his efforts. “I’d be inclined to agree,” he said, his voice low. “Contrary to popular advice, I never wanna leave you wantin’, sugar.”

“You haven’t, love,” you crooned, releasing his hair to lovingly stroke along his cheekbone. “But we have more to try, don’t we?” You caught his chin in your hand, admiring the wide-eyed wrecked look he already had. “It’s my turn,” you added in a near-whisper.

Maxi stared at you with a hybrid of reverence and blatant lust, his gaze feeling like hands over your skin as he took you in from his knees and made no move to break your grip.

You felt your face heat and the cool collectedness threaten to leave you, and you reached down for his hand. “Come on, handsome.”

Maxi seemed to remember himself at the sound of your normal voice, blushing a little as he took your hand with a smile. You helped steady him as he got to his feet — though his cock caught your attention, now flushed dark and dripping more still with want.

“Aww, Maxi,” you purred, reaching to swipe a droplet of precum onto your fingertip. He hissed at the contact, his blush darkening on his skin. You kept your eyes on his as you licked it off, giving your palm a lick as well before you took his shaft in hand. “Did you enjoy giving me head, babe?” You felt him spasm against your palm as you gave him lazy, loving strokes.

“You know I always do, angel,” he managed as best he could, clearly having to make an effort not to thrust into your hand. “W-whatever that might involve at the time,” he added, biting off a whine at the end as you swirled your palm around the swollen head.

“You marshmallow,” you cooed, moving carefully so it was you stepping him back against the mattress now. You sped up your strokes as he perched where you’d sat, watching him squirm and moan through clenched teeth. “You’re such a gentleman, aren’t you babe?”

“Baby, c’mon,” Maxi ground out, clearly struggling to keep a grip on himself. “I— fuck, I’m not gonna last if you keep this up.”

“But I’m fucking you, remember Daddy?” you murmured, learning close to his face to watch his agonized expression. “You could cum all over my thighs or my stomach right now, and just let me take care of you while you’re still all cute and speechless.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Maxi groaned, but you could hear the edge of an exasperated laugh. “You’re so mean to me when you wanna be, pretty baby.” He reached up, holding your wrist in a gossamer grip to slow your pace.

“Excuse me?” you laughed, leaning forward so your lips were a breath away from his. “Who had me tied up all Valentine’s Day, huh?” You smiled, watching Maxi try to close the distance to kiss you but leaning back to stay just out of his reach. “Consider this me giving as good as I get.”

Maxi let out a frustrated huff, settling with staying as close to you as possible. “I’m gonna remember this on your birthday, you tease,” he mumbled, his soft smile giving him away.

You closed the distance between you when he least expected it, kissing him as you pushed him back towards his mattress. He made a small noise of surprise, but his hands moved immediately to your back, wanting to keep you close to him as you directed him towards his pillows.

You only broke the kiss when he was well and truly pinned underneath you, sitting up to take him in. You were well aware of the burning proximity of your hips, your strap arched against his pelvis, his erection pressing urgently into your thigh. “It’s not a threat if I’m going to enjoy myself, lover boy,” you murmured, enjoying how his already expanded pupils managed to stretch just a little wider as he gazed up at you. You were sure yours were just as helplessly dark as you leaned down to kiss his forehead, then the end of his noise. “…So.”

“So,” Maxi echoed, his eyes flitting between the strap-on at your hips and your breasts, which thus far were much neglected by his standards.

You reached back to the nightstand, picking up the bottle of lube again and pouring some into your palm. Sure, it felt like you were still plenty coated by Maxi’s spit, but you weren’t about to take chances.

Plus, you couldn’t help but grin as he watched your hand moving along your own shaft as though he was in a trance, coating yourself a bit more salaciously than you needed to. “How do I make this more fun for you, Daddy?”

It took Maxi a moment to answer, his eyes still caught at your hands. “…I mean,” he said slowly, at last looking back to your face with a brand new flush over his skin. He gave another half-shrug. “I’m already enjoyin’ myself a great deal, t’be honest with you.”

You giggled, and his soft smile returned. “Well, I’m always glad to hear that,” you said, your voice low. “Pass me a pillow.”

Maxi reached behind his back without ever looking away from you, as if afraid to miss something.

“Thank you.” You took it and tapped the pillow against the side of his thigh. “Up.”

Maxi lifted his hips with a confused scrunch of his brow long for you to slide the pillow underneath them. As soon as he resettled, you moved to settle yourself between his thighs, pulling them just a touch further apart as you did so.

You hesitated somewhat, aware of some sort of shift happening. You’d seen each other naked a million times - you’d probably spent more time naked with each other than alone since you’d started dating - but something about right now felt… well, new. You looked over Maxi’s thighs to either side of you, your hands sliding softly over the coarse dark hair on his pale skin.

One of his legs twitched beneath your hand, and you glanced up at him, curious.

He was watching you just as intently from where he sat at the top of his bed, taking in the way you were sitting on your knees in way that put you above him somewhat.

You leaned down as he watched, making a point to run your fingertips along the inside of his thighs. While he still shivered softly at the touch, you placed a careful kiss to the innermost part of his right thigh.

His gasp was hushed and half bitten-back, like he was hesitating to let it out. You glanced up from where you were leaning, seeing him watching you with a new expression; while you’d both been vulnerable with each other before, of course, there was something to the way his face was filled with a hopeful uncertainty that made your heart absolutely melt.

You leaned down again, kissing his inner left thigh even more sweetly, and savored both the the feeling of the hair on your cheek and the soft noise Maxi couldn’t hold back.

You took your time there, lavishing his inner thighs in soft kisses that turned warm and open-mouthed, with nips like you were trying to take the smallest bite of ripe fruit. Your hands slid up to his hips — partially because you enjoyed the feeling of his hipbones against your palms, and partially because the poor thing just wouldn’t stop squirming at the contact. You only let up when one of his thighs began to twitch, his hips giving an abbreviated buck against your hands as he sought some sort of friction. This didn’t do much to curtail you; you instead just relocated to the skin on the inside of his hips, moving your hand so you could suck a small bruise into the flesh next to the left ridge of his pelvic bone.

“Gorgeous, c’mon,” Maxi broke the silence at last, his voice strangled with need.

You held up a finger, finishing the small heart-shaped bruise you’d been determinedly nipping into his skin. “I just wanted to make sure I was taking advantage of the… different perspective,” you said, batting your lashes in exaggerated innocence. “I can’t have any part of you feeling neglected, babe.”

Maxi growled in frustration, his head falling back against the pillow. “I appreciate the attention to detail,” he said, running a hand under his glasses. “But you’re killin’ me here.”

“Well.” You sat up, making sure to catch his gaze as you smirked. “We can’t have that, can we?”

You reached back down to his thighs, pulling him so he slid down the mattress and closing the space between your hips. As he blinked, adjusting, you leaned up and supported yourself to hover above him at last.

“Now,” you said quietly, watching the way his breathing had sped up ever so slightly as you gazed down at him. “Do you want me to hold you down?” You adjusted so your hands were resting on his wrists, which had been resting on either side of his head.

Maxi thought about it before shaking his head. “I wanna touch you.” His fingers spread subconsciously, and the way he said it had you shifting slightly where the bottom of the strap was in contact with your clit.

“Noted,” you said, trying to hide that he’d left you just a little breathless as you moved your hands. You couldn’t help but linger over him, reaching again to play with the stray lock of hair that hung down over his forehead. “…Any chance you’d want to call me ‘Mommy’ while we’re trying new things?” you asked, your mouth curling amusedly at the thought.

Maxi snorted, catching your hand to kiss your palm. “Absolutely not.” He stopped, his lips still brushing the center of your hand before he pulled it gently away. “…Unless you… want me to…?”

You giggled at the clear conflict etched on his face; if you didn’t already know he was technically a serial killer, you would’ve thought he was incapable of hiding anything with those big doe eyes of his. “No, Daddy, don’t worry.” You kissed the back of his hand in turn. “I just thought I’d offer. Wanted to be fair, y’know?” You gave him a wink.

Maxi visibly relaxed into his pillow. “I appreciate it.” He laced his fingers loosely through yours. “But that’s… complicated, for me. I would’ve tried if it was somethin’ you wanted, though—“

You shook your head, squeezing his hand. You hesitated, trying to figure out how to word this next part. “…You know… me wanting to do something doesn’t outweigh you not wanting to, Maxi,” you said quietly, watching his face.

Maxi squirmed slightly, his eyes dropping from yours for the first time in a while. “I know,” he said, shrugging. “I just wanna make sure I’m givin’ you what you need. If it means tryin’ somethin’, that’s part of it.”

“That’s different.” You ran your thumb over his knuckles, waiting for him to meet your eyes again. “That’s trying something we both want.” You turned his hand so his palm was resting on your thigh, and he ran his thumb over the skin there in turn. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to try something for my sake, when it’s not something you’d choose yourself.”

“You’re sweet, darlin’.” Maxi gave you a small smile, but you still felt his fingers briefly drum over your thigh.

You shifted so you were sitting back slightly, watching him still. “It’s not about that,” you said gently, covering his hand on your thigh reassuringly with your own. “I want you to trust me.”

“I know,“ Maxi cut in quickly, sitting up just as fast. “I know, and I do, of course I do—“

You made a soft noise of mild skepticism, leaning forward to kiss him quietly. “So,” you said, pulling back just a fraction to meet his eyes. “Why do you seem nervous?”

Maxi didn’t move, his eyes still on your lips for a long moment before he met yours again. “…I don’t want you to think I won’t do whatever you need,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Or want… to keep you happy.” He flipped his hand on your thigh so his palm was facing up, intertwining his fingers tightly with yours. You looked from this and back to his eyes, seeing a familiar gleam of red reflected from the late afternoon light in the window. “Anythin’. I swear.”

“Maxi.” You couldn’t help but smile, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. “Of course I know that, love.” You set your free hand on the back of his neck, your fingers twisting in the part of his hair that had been left to grow closer and closer to his shoulders for a while now. You felt him shiver lightly and saw his eyes scrunch somewhat closed, clearly enjoying the sensation. “But I don’t want you feeling obligated to give me anything that doesn’t fulfill you in the same way.” You kissed the corner of his mouth to punctuate that statement. “I only want what makes us both happy. Especially here.” You brushed the end of your nose with his.

His eyes, when they opened again, were less brown and more burgundy. His expression was inscrutable: you recognized the studied calm of him trying to keep something close to his chest, but there was a light there that looked something like longing as well.

You bit your lip, hoping you weren’t about to kill the whole mood. “…I know,” you began slowly, reaching up to hug his shoulders. “That in your line of work… hell, even before then,” you amended. “You’re used to handling things that are truly difficult. The duties that you have to take… because you’re expected to, or no one else can. Because if you don’t step up and handle it, who will, am I right?” you murmured. “Not the grieving family, not the deceased, not the demons in the house. There’s just you.”

The coolness of his gaze immediately fractured into something less certain, and you could feel his tapered fingers clutch at your hips as if he was looking for structure, something safe to cling to.

“I know you don’t think of me that way,” you reassured him, seeing the concern looming in his wrinkling brow. “But I don’t want you to ever think of any part of what we do here, together, as something else you have to white-knuckle your way through. …Fuck,” you mumbled, looking aside for a moment to gather yourself. “I don’t know if I’m making sense here. I promise you don’t do anything to make me think I’m a chore for you, I swear.” You looked back to him, seeing the concern pulling his mouth into a frown. “Just…” You hugged his shoulders again as you stared at the hollow of the base of his neck, trying to untangle what was on the tip of your tongue. “I just…”

You took a deep breath before you locked eyes with him again. “I know,” you said slowly. “That a lot of times in your life, you’ve had to grin and bear it. With your job, with the… night work,” your agreed-upon term for his less legal activities. “Hell, with your family, because if you didn’t you were going to lose it. And I know you’re good at it. You’re very good at it,” you nodded, reaching up to run a hand affectionately through his hair. “You handle shit every day, Maxi, that would leave me not wanting to get up in the morning. You’ve done a job for decades that would break most people after a month. And you take care of those people well, you have as long as I’ve known you. And I love that about you,” you beamed, unable to help yourself. “And I know you’ll take care of me too, always.” You bit your lip again, leaning against his chest somewhat more as you chose your words. “I think… part of me wanting to take care of you is to tell you that I don’t want you to ever have to grin and bear something when we’re here, ever. If you’re not into it like I am, then it’s off the table, period.” Again, you leaned your forehead against his, closing any last space between the pair of you. “I want that to be part of how I can take care of you. To let you have a place where you can say ‘no,’ and that’s that. That I won’t be disappointed, or… or leave,” you murmured, your eyes unexpectedly warm. “That you can just… be. And I’ll be here too, with you. Because that’s all I want. I swear.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly thick and pressing against itself. “…Am I just talking in circles?” you asked, glancing sheepishly back up at him through your lashes.

You weren’t sure how the world was moving around you until you realized you’d both fallen sideways onto the mattress, Maxi kissing you like he’d just come up for air from a cavernous depth. His hands — still somewhat cool against your abruptly searing skin — moved from your hips, over your stomach, and across your back so he could pull you against him in a ferocious hug. You hugged him back as tightly as you could manage, still knowing it wouldn’t even come close to his true strength.

He kissed the corners of your mouth, the hollow of your throat, your pulse, and your eyelashes before he finally settled nose-to-nose with you. Somewhere in the process, you could swear you’d felt the faintest trace of something warm and wet tracing softly down your skin.

The eyes that stared back into yours were the shadow that felt like home, carmine into obsidian. “I love you.” His voice was from somewhere deeper in his chest, and as soft as it was, you knew it was from both halves of himself. The one that was yours daylight into darkness, and the one you only encountered sometimes — in the cemetery, or the ruined church. “I love you more than anythin’,” he breathed. “I want you to always be certain of that. As sure as you are of your own pulse, or air in your lungs.”

“As the grave,” you said, unable to help a smile at your own promise in a terrible joke.

Maxi kissed you with a bite, as he had at the front door, and you weren’t quite sure who moved how; if he’d pulled you on top of him, if you’d rolled to pin him down, or if you’d simply succumbed to a natural gravity existing only between the two of you.

You only stopped kissing him when you were holding his hips, pulling back to look him in the eye. “Just tell me what you need,” you whispered. “If you want me to slow down, or—“

“I trust you,” Maxi whispered back, grazing your cheek with a messy kiss.

You pushed into him slowly, your eyes moving quickly between his face and the strap as you did so. Partially so you could keep an eye out for any signs of pulling away or pain, but mostly because watching Maxi take you, even carefully, was… intoxicating, to say the least. Something in you twisted keenly at the way he moaned, his head falling back against the pillows as his eyes closed. You watched them crinkle briefly as he adjusted to your length, then relax as he exhaled a slow, shaking breath.

When you glanced down again at your strap-on, pushing further still, you were suddenly intensely aware of just how possessive he seemed to get when he penetrated you. The way your face felt like a flash fire, the strange, slightly giddy, slightly demanding sensation in your chest to curl around him and keep him there forever.

You heard a soft chuckle, and looked back up to find him watching you in turn with a smirk. “Right?” he breathed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Oh, definitely.” You nodded a little too quickly, your hand finding one of his on the pillow and interlocking your fingers tightly. “Fuck,” you hissed, withdrawing a little just to push in again. “I never want to let you go.”

“M’fine with that,” Maxi managed around strangled near-whine. “God, pretty.” His free hand scrabbled to your harness, tugging insistently at the leather. “C’mon, give it to me, I’ve been good.”

Face again hot enough to burn, you leaned down to nip at his lower lip as you gave him your first real thrust. Your insides felt similarly aflame as he groaned from deep in his throat, tugging again on the strap insistently. You tried to move in sync with how he was guiding you, trusting him as you fell into the pattern, and before long the air was thick with the sounds of his gasps and soft, growled pleading.

You were half in anony, the ridged base teasing your clit but not quite providing the full, rough touch you craved. You were willing to deal with that for now as you rocked into Maxi, still trying to be careful so as not to hurt him, but also wanting him to just relax and give up control. Your beloved Reaper, who you knew would move this world and the next for you, deserved to just let himself be taken care of and adored. To not have to lift a finger for his own pleasure, to be loved just as completely and thoroughly as he loved you.

You wanted to give that to him. You wanted to give it so badly, it threatened to burn a hole through the skin and bone in your chest. You wanted to watch the calculation and the careful cunning leave his eyes, for any thought of having to stay two steps ahead to totally leave his skull. You just wanted him to be here, in this moment, with you.

“H-hey.”

You looked up, your hips falling out of rhythm for a moment as you wondered if you needed to stop, if you’d hurt him somehow —

But you felt his left leg curl around your hip, pinning you closer to him, and when you looked back, your clit positively ached.

He looked completely debauched, skin flushed, hair starting to stick to his forehead as he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes. “You holdin’ back, darlin’?” he drawled, gazing up at you with pupils like fathomless pits.

You hesitated a little before nodding once. “I’m just trying to be careful, baby,” you soothed.

Maxi gave you a grin that made you realize just how slick you were behind the hardware. “Don’t,” he said softly, shaking his head.

Almost without thinking, you reached up to pull him down hard, pushing into him as deep as you could manage. He moaned encouragingly, his other leg crossing over your back so it was impossible for you to pull away as you let him have it.

The room was filled by the sounds of skin on skin, and your free hand twisted into his hair and pulled.

Maxi let out a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure, and it didn’t take you long to realize he wasn’t content to merely let you fuck him - his hips met yours thrust for thrust, tugging still at the harness before his nails clawed over your ass, your back, seeking some sort of hold.

“Come on, Maxi,” you cooed in his ear, pulling again at his hair to expose his throat to you. You leaned down, sucking a bruise near the base of his throat. “I’ve got you, Daddy, let me take care of you.”

Maxi’s cock throbbed, fluid leaking freely from the tip, and you reached down almost without realizing to slather it down his shaft, enchanted.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his hips spasming slightly at your touch. “Goddamn, I’m c-close.”

“So let go,” you murmured, pressing a sloppy kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Come on, love.” You felt yourself smile wickedly to yourself as you leaned down, nipping hard into your collarbone. “Show me how a good boy gets his ass fucked, won’t you?”

Maxi’s whole body shuddered, and with a cry that bordered on a yell, he came spurting messily onto his own chest and stomach in a gush.

Without losing a beat, you leaned down, pistoning your hips harder into him as you cleaned him carefully with your tongue.

His pants became gasps as he squirmed underneath you. “B-baby, c’mon—“

You glanced up at him as you licked up another rope of fluid, which drew a ragged whine from him. “Are you asking me to stop?”

Maxi clearly still dazed, riding his high, his legs moving as if uncertain whether or not to unlock them from around you.

“Because if you’re not,” you murmured, your hand coming up to stroke his cock again. “I want to see if you have one more for me, Daddy.”

Maxi watched you, skin flushing harder as he nodded like he was hypnotized.

You grinned, feeling a sharpness to your own teeth. “That’s my Maxi,” you purred. You leaned up, moving to kiss his cheek, but he grabbed you firmly by the jaw so he could kiss you with an open mouth. You felt him tasting his cum on your tongue, shivering slightly as he did so.

Your hand found his throat, gently lowering him back down to his pillow, and after a nod from him, you squeezed lightly on either side to impact the blood flow to his head, fucking him deeper still into his mattress.

Maxi’s legs re-locked around your back, his hands moving to clutch your hips in their new ferocity. His panting turned again to soft moans, his hair now thoroughly a mess on his pillow.

Under your hand, you felt his shaft hard and hot, spasming against the force of your palm and the way you spread the renewed beads of fluid down towards the coarse dark hair at the base.

“You take this so well, Daddy,” you murmured, your lips moving against his cheek. “You should’ve told me earlier how much you like being greedy this way, too.”

You heard Maxi gasp a laugh through his frustrated, teeth-gritted groan. “You make it hard to choose, gorgeous, what can I say?” He hissed back at you, and when you turned to kiss him, he nipped your lower lip so hard you swore you felt a drop of blood.

You hissed softly, your hand tightening on his throat with a twitch, and only leaving it when you saw his eyes flash keenly in response. “Come on, Maxi, one more for me. I know you’ve got it in you.”

Maxi growled as he shoved one hand into your hair and pulled just enough to surprise you, his legs so tight around you that there was no space left between the two of you at all.

You gasped at the yank to your hair, your hips shoving hard back, and that seemed to be enough. Between one hand on his cock and one on his neck, Maxi was quickly overwhelmed again, your name bordering on a scream on his lips as he made a second mess between the two of you.

From the way he fell back hard on the pillow, you knew he was truly fucked out this time. You stilled your hips slowly as he came down, moving your hand from his throat so you could reach up and idly twirl his hair around your fingers as he lay there trying to catch his breath.

“You did so well,” you murmured, your other hand slowly moving between the pair of you to gather his cum on your fingers. “You did so well for me, Maxi, taking all of it like that. You were so good.”

You saw Maxi blushing still, both from the exertion and your words, and a shy smile on his face even as his hair fell messily over his glasses. “Yeah, well,” he said quietly, blowing his hair out of the way so he could glance at you. “You made it easy to let go, pretty.”

You froze with your liquid-covered fingers almost to your mouth, wondering how this man could make you feel so shy even while you were about to clean your hand with your tongue to make a point. What the fuck, how was that remotely fair. “Yeah, well…” You sat there wondering if he could feel the heat from your face radiating all the way over there, before quietly attending to the task at hand while your brain was overwhelmed by your feelings and his sweetness.

Maxi watched you attentively, eyes following the motions of your tongue on your own skin like it was something holy. Before you could swallow, he pulled you back to him, kissing you again with as much fervor as before.

You moved carefully so you could lay there with him,, sweaty and still side by side, just kissing. Over your heart racing in your ears, you could just make out the dim whirr of the cicadas outside, and the growing chorus of crickets joining in. The two of you had been here a while.

You watched Maxi next to you, dreamily licking the salty beads of sweat from your shoulders and throat, his fingers rubbing the skin beneath the straps of your harness as if to massage it. You found yourself moving your hip against his hand, craving his touch. Subconsciously, you were rocking ever so slightly against the base of the dildo — hazily content with Maxi’s pleasure by proxy, but still enjoying the sparks it left when it hit just the right place.

Your Reaper, ever watchful even when so sated, noticed before you did. He made a small, gravelly noise of concern, and you looked up, startled out of your own subtle squirming.

“Did you not get off, gorgeous?” he drawled, looking from your hips to you through the strands of his hair.

You blinked, still slightly spaced out yourself. “I… not directly?” You shrugged a shoulder against the mattress, nuzzling your face into his pillow. “I was having too much fun watching you to worry about it, to be honest.” You reached up, pushing some of his hair away from the eye you could see. “We really should bust this out more often, love,” you teased.

Maxi’s tongue ‘tsk’ed softly against his teeth. “We can’t have you goin’ without, though,” he murmured. You felt his fingers move from the inside of the strap to the outside, still impressively dextrous with the buckle. “Here, let me take care of this…”

“Maxi, it’s okay, baby,” you murmured, reaching one hand to smooth down the dark trail of hair down his stomach. “It doesn’t have to be about me this time. It can just be about you.”

“Oh, that’s a definite ‘absolutely not’,” Maxi snorted, smiling at you as he got the first side loose.

You set your hand gently on his cheek as he worked his hand between the mattress and your other side, looking for the second one. “You don’t have to, if you’re too…” You let the air have the rest of your sentence, knowing he’d understand.

Maxi shook his head, his hand finding the other side of the harness as you rolled slightly to give him access. “This is somethin’ I’d never be too tired for, trust me.” He winked at you as he got the second strap off, and he sat up to lift it off your hips.

You sighed in pleasure as your bare skin touched the soft sheets, relieved to be free no matter how well-fitted the harness was. “This feels so good, oh god. Thank you,” you added, glancing up at him as he leaned over to set the whole thing gently on the floor.

“Don’t thank me for anythin’ yet,” Maxi chuckled, laying back down next to you. He reached down, drawing a line across your bare hips with the tip of his finger and making you shiver. “I’ll do whatever you like, gorgeous,” he purred, watching you move. “But if I could make a humble suggestion?”

“Hm?” You glanced at him from your side of the pillow, one eye sunken into the fluff.

He smirked. “It’s been a minute since I got to have these on either side of my face.” He traced his finger down your full thigh, and you felt yourself clench around air. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to get re-acquainted.”

You wondered if he could feel the skin on your thighs flush at the contact — if it could ever be hot enough to send up a tiny plume of steam from his cool skin against it. “…Are you sure?”

“Only if you are,” Maxi said, glancing at you even as he was tracing spirals into your flesh. “If you don’t wanna, I’ll happily try somethin’ else.”

“I mean, I’m not saying I don’t want to,” you said quickly. God, did you want to. You’d gotten yourself off more than once in your morning shower just thinking about Maxi’s cheekbones rubbing against your inner thighs. “I just…” You hesitated.

Maxi moved further down the pillow so the two of you were nose to nose. “‘Just what,’ angel?” His eyes were still holding a hint of red in the iris, but it was warm. Safe. “If you wanna, and I wanna, who else do we need to chime in?” He paused for just a moment, then glanced quickly up to the ceiling. “I don’t think this counts as a ‘leave room for Jesus’ situation by any means.”

You laughed, and Maxi grinned. “It’s not that, I swear,” you managed, still giggling at the idea. “It’s not that at all, it’s just…”

“Just what?” Maxi said again, his voice soft as he kissed you sweetly. He paused, and you could see him thinking. “…Did I do somethin’ to make you uncomfortable last time?”

“No!” You propped yourself up on an elbow. “It’s not that at all, babe, I promise.” You reached over, running your fingers up the thick line of scar tissue over his heart. You watched him relax slightly — this was an unspoken gesture between the two of you that you were sincere. “It’s like… okay,” you said, sighing slightly. “So, we’ve established my thighs are… thicker, than some.”

“And I will not hear one word of slander against them for that,” Maxi said immediately, his other hand moving to your thighs as well. You couldn’t help but giggle as he ran his hands lovingly over the pair of them, his face mock-serious. “They’re precious gifts, and one of my favorite pairs of anythin’ in the world. It isn’t their fault they’re blessed.”

“I wasn’t going to slander my thighs, Maxi,” you laughed again, your fingers lingering over the scar on his chest. “They’re fine. I like them plenty.” You paused, biting your lip as you tried to choose your words. “…You’re gonna laugh and think I’m ridiculous.”

“Oh honey, no,” Maxi’s tone was suddenly soft, concerned and coaxing. He slid his hands back up from your thighs to your waist, pulling you tightly against him in a hug. “I would never laugh at somethin’ you were concerned abut, baby doll.” He kissed your forehead, leaning back so he could see your eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong. I’ll fix it.” His own were serious, searching, and you almost felt bad he looked so worried.

But you also knew he was absolutely going to laugh.

“…Okay,” you began again. “…Do you remember… that tweet I showed you, a while back,” you said slowly. “With the photo of the girl in the hospital?”

Maxi frowned, clearly trying to remember what you were talking about. Eventually he shrugged silently, clearly coming up blank.

“…The one with the neck brace?” You tried again. “Whose girlfriend—“

Maxi made a loud sound you couldn’t identify, somewhere between a snort and a yelp, and suddenly clapped one of his hands to his mouth as he curled into himself on his side.

You were worried for just a second, concerned you’d somehow offended him… until you realized he was, indeed, laughing and trying to hide it from you. Very poorly. “…You can laugh and it won’t hurt my feelings,” you sighed with a smile, after watching him try to muffle it for a minute and doing a terrible job.

Maxi rolled onto his back, laughing so hard he was nearly in tears. A couple of times, he caught his breath, trying to talk to you — only to immediately snort-giggle all over again, falling to pieces at the memory of the girl who went viral because her girlfriend sat on her face too hard.

“I told you,” you said, watching him with a smile of your own you couldn’t help. “I said you’d laugh.”

Maxi’s laugh turned into a groan, then a soft sigh as he wiped a tear from his left eye. “Aw, darlin’,” he cooed once he finally caught his breath. “I wasn’t laughin’ at you, I swear. I just—“ He cut himself off, trying to muffle a snicker that threatened to escape as he reached over to stroke your cheek. “I think it’s really sweet that you’re worried about that, s’all.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I am!” You were giggling yourself, but still feeling like you were confessing your secret darkest fear. Which you were “Think about it! How the hell are you supposed to show up to work in a neck brace? And at your job, specifically? I can’t have you directing funerals like that, Jesus Christ.” You watched Maxi dissolve into giggles again. “What- what would you even tell the little old ladies at the Historical Society? You know they’d all be fussing over you, thinking you had an accident or something terrible.” You giggled harder as Maxi did, clearly tickled at this idea. “I mean, they have a phone tree dedicated to what pants you’re wearing, for crying out loud!” Can you—“ You had to take a moment to try to breathe through your laughter yourself. “Can you even imagine what they’d do if you showed up to work with an injury? Especially if they thought it had anything to do with me?”

You were still giggling until you felt Maxi’s hands at your sides, and then squealed slightly as he - seemingly effortlessly, somehow - scooped you up to set you lightly so you were sitting on his chest.

“Tell you what, gorgeous,” Maxi said, still chuckling a bit himself. “How about you just relax,” he turned his head, kissing the inside of one of your knees where it rested now on his shoulder. “And let me take care of you,” he punctuated, kissing the inside of the other. “And we won’t worry about what the fussy old ladies think, alright?”

He scooted you forward, and you felt your cheeks blaze again as you felt a trace of your own slick left on his skin.

Maxi licked his lips, locking eyes with you so your breath caught in your throat. “’Cause trust me,” he said, his voice low. “That’s the last thing I’m worried about right now.”

You immediately felt the same, suddenly more concerned with how he lifted you again, followed by the scalding muscle of his tongue pushing into your cunt.

Honestly, at this rate, it would be a good while before he let you remember that anyone existed outside this room.

(if you’ve read this far, as always, I adore you, and I’ll see you in the next prompt pulled from the shadows of time long forgotten :’D thanks! <3)

#nice people #nonny!!#maxi morvant #maximilian vincent morvant #maxi morvant x reader #maxi morvant x you #maxi and his reader #maxi's final them #genderqueer reader #non-binary reader #plus size reader #slasher oc #slasher oc x reader #Daniel Brühl fc #morvant mortuary #monsterkisser fics #minors dni #nsfios

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afleetingmuse · 1 year

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Hi everyone!

To fix a duel ended problem I'm having as a DM, I've made a thing! Lol

The Flaw:

Sometimes if I have a/any new player(s) who wants to try D&D but finds it intimidated or overwhelming. Traditionally, I have a one on one character creation session or a group game 0. All pretty standard stuff and while I don't mind doing this, it can be very time consuming. Especially if I have new players that are just doing a one shot(the ending always has flexibility to morph into a campaign).

The Background:

The last one shot I did was for a my best friend, her husband, her brother and his girlfriend. But because the four of them lived in another city and I was only visiting for a few days I asked them if they'd like to pick their race, class, and background, and I'll fillout their character sheets for them so we can just go over some smaller details and jump right into the game. They all agreed but while I was filling things out and choosing some basic and versatile spells. I realized I'd still have to go over background features, racial abilities or all the things they would have on hand. So I handmade little cards that explained things like dark vision ect. I then went to the dollar store and bought some of those plastic card holders that go in binders. Set it up for them, so that all I had to do was hand them a few of these sheets and everything they needed was easy to read and straight forward(luckily for me others on Reddit had blank spell cards which was a real time saver).

My players loved it, and after a quick explanation of the basic of dice rolling and where to find information they needed we hopped into the game. It was great but very time consuming on my end for a one shot.

The Inspiration:

I have another one shot coming up in a few months and while my sister lives in town(Hi Sister, I technically haven't asked you yet if you wanted to play but Cousin's Husband is really excited) , my cousin and her husband live out of town. So when I showed up to work early today I couldn't find my new campaign notes on my Google Docs. I didn't want to try and remember what I had already wrote down so I started thinking about making some blank cards that I could fill out the information and get started on all the behind the scenes work. When I had the idea to make a printable sheet so that I'll never have to handwrite it out again. It took a few tries to get a basic look that I liked. What would be easiest to print out and not waste paper ect.

The Idea(Couldn't think of another character sheet reference that would work):

And I have this first draft to show for it. Basically I made a few of these sheets in Excel the top three rows are all the same, since they are the three most common Kits. Then the forth row has a different Kit on each page.

I wanted a space where they could erase and change the amount of what they have, like ball-bearings, rope, string, pitons and rations. If they ever get broken, lost, used or cut. Then I added how much the flat rate of price so you wouldn't have to look it up if you wanted to sell it. Finally I added a spot for a base weight incase you ever want to play a game where your strict on your carrying capacity but left it blank so again if something was to happen to your gear you can change it.

I know this has probably been done before I didn't think to look before I got started but regardless tada! Feel free to ask any questions or tell me what you think.

(I also posted this on Reddit, but figured I'd share it here too)

#dnd 5e #dnd stuff #dungeon master #dungeons and dragons

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mcsquared789 · 4 months

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MCU Uncut Changelog Archive

Future updates (2024 onwards) are shared via Tumblr via normal blog posts. These are all the updates I shared during back when this was on AO3.

As I continue to work on this project, I've recognised that it's a lot of work to do this. I might make some continuity mistakes, or be dissatisfied with what I've written sometimes. So I need a way to keep track of any changes I make — and as I've decided that in doing that, I might as well share them with you!

As I update this list (by date), I'll list any changes or additions I've made to existing works (that are completed) for the reasons I've mentioned. I think ~90% of these will be additions or minor changes to paragraphs and sentences: without good reason, I will probably never change an entire section, a plot point or a conversation. If I do, I may explain why and provide the original text... but it's on a case by case basis and I don't want to promise anything, especially if I feel it may spoil something in another later fic.

Besides, most of these will be incidental and/or probably not provoked by another story or a good comment suggestion. Already as a writer, I've had some thoughts about hey, I don't like how I wrote this part or I know a better way to get the characters over here, etc. Most of the changes here are for those thoughts, and if you've ever struggled to write something like I've had — you can probably see where I'm coming from.

Anyway, that's the point of this chapter. If this fic has had a recent update and the slate is unchanged, that likely means I've added something here. Thanks for understanding! And if I make a little error in marking down dates, let me know.

20/6/23: Minor changes and additions to last chapter & epilogue of Iron Man.

26/6/23: Got my first comment! :D and it’s a bot comment. :| I’ve had to change comment access to registered users only until otherwise — a heads up to anyone who wants to or wishes to comment in the future. I may have to find a different way to reach guests, but this will have to be the way it is for now.

5/7/23: WHOOO 750 hits on Iron Man! :D More minor changes and additions to last few chapters that tie it all together. Nothing much, but thanks everyone for reading! (Btw, Incredible Hulk is out if you don't know already! I will be updating it soon, you can access the link in the Slate.)

12/7/23: So, you will probably look at this date 5 years into the future and be like 'hey, that's the day after AO3 was hit by the DDOS attack!' Totally not related to that event AT ALL, I've needed to change up how I write and store my current work so that I'll still have everything on my computer if say, another attack were to happen again sometime in the future. As a bonus result, this has given me better ways to spot spelling and grammar errors in my fics, so I've been updating them slightly to get rid of as many of them as I can. My next update on The Incredible Hulk will be a little ways off, but it's best I get this sorted first — in the meantime, thanks for continuing to read.

PS. Thanks to everyone who read Iron Man! 800 hits :]

17/7/23: Changed the rating of The Incredible Hulk from Teen to Mature. I’ve been looking at the story I’m planning for this and realised… yeah, it’s gonna get pretty dark. Maybe even the darkest it gets in these fics, but we’ll see! :O Anyway, it’s mislabeled and I’ll be adding additional tags and trigger warnings to it as I go.

31/7/23: I've updated the slate a bit to reveal what I have planned in a little more detail. It's still a little bit light, but I figure it would get people more excited for what I have planned, since titles alone are not much to go off. (Mainly includes details to phase 2-3).

3/8/23: So, wow — thanks everyone so much for the hits and kudos on both my fics so far!! I’ve also noticed that a lot of them are from guests, and since I’ve kinda noticed in the community that the bot comments seem to be less prevalent, I’ve decided to turn on guest comments again so we can give this a try. But if I’m proven wrong, I will have to switch them off. Sorry :(

9/8/23: This is more of a note for me, but I've been updating how I format my fics! I updated the description of Iron Man to include a longer excerpt from the text. As well, I also have figured out how to use the Chapter Summary feature to add parts to my fics, which I've been doing with the Incredible Hulk. If you're interested, the chapters where I added them was 2 and 11 — t's not much, but I plan on including more parts in future fics and will probably use them in this way going forward. (Btw, I'm nearly done with the 16th chapter on TIH! It's a beefy one, so I hope it was worth the wait :P)

16/8/23: A HUGE MILESTONE!! 1000 HITS FOR IRON MAN, WHOOOOO!!! Thank you so much for reading and sharing! I’m so in awe, I feel like I’m gonna cry ;u;

Again, thank you everyone, especially those who’ve stuck around. I know I’ve gone dark a bit in the last week, but rest assured I’m still working on The Incredible Hulk — I’m just doing what I can while getting affairs in order for a trip I’ll be taking next month. You guys are awesome!

26/8/23: Okay, so not major news… but I’ve added a new novella to the Slate! It’s in the Infinity phase, and I thought about adding it in earlier, but didn’t have much reason to… but now I do, after doing some comic and lore research. It’ll be a character driven fic between Wanda and Vision, and it will take place sometime before Infinity War. That’s all I have to add, but to those who are fans of the characters… I think it will be very worthwhile.

13/9/23: I'm currently on that trip I mentioned in August! Thus, I have not been able to work on much, including Incredible Hulk — but I HAVE found some time to make pretty significant revisions and additions to make the Iron Man fic even more polished. I'm working on it throughout this month while I'm gone, but will aim to update the fic with the changes at the end of the month. It will be quite significant, maybe even to the point of warranting a reread — but we'll see. Again, thanks for reading it and bringing us to over 1200 hits! Thank you :)

17/9/23: Updated Iron Man with revised Chapters 1 and 2. Not much different, but better and more detailed than before!

23/9/23: I’m eagerly anticipating my return next month, but I have another significant update! As well as adding to phase 4 and simplifying some text a bit, I have added one-shots, one-chapter stories that I’ll write between longer novels! This is to expand things a little further and add more time to characters who wouldn’t or haven’t gotten the spotlight, as well as to keep the writing process interesting for me — although this will make the whole thing slightly longer to finish :/ whatever, I’ve just kind of accepted that I will NOT be able to meet the deadlines I set for myself.

Pretty much all of these are optional to read, but I’ve only revealed their names to keep some of them a surprise. Most of them you should be able to figure out from however — I hope you look forward to them. When I finish the first of these stories, I will make a seperate series for them that will not be in the main series. So if you want to catch up on them while not being subscribed to my user account, subscribe to that series. :)

29/9/23: Updated Iron Man with revised Chapters 3 and 4. I had less time than I thought... but now, I'm happy to say that I will be returning to work on the Incredible Hulk. I'll aim to upload at least another chapter of it within the first week of October — and I've been eagerly awaiting getting back to work on this :). I finally will be able to write something new again! See you then!

27/10/23: It's been a while since I've updated, so this is going to be a big one!

Firstly, THANK YOU TO ALL MY NEWEST FOLLOWERS. Over 1300 hits on Iron Man, Almost 600 on the Incredible Hulk, and not even finished yet. That's AMAZING, thank you so much for reading! I feel so much pressure to live up to expectations now, but I'm gonna try :'D

Secondly, some updates about the schedule. Nothing else is happening until I finish TIH, but when I do... I'm announcing two things that will most likely happen in the back end of November. 1st, I'll do the very first one-shot, the Consultant! It'll probably be around 3-5k words, and will fill in some gaps by the Incredible Hulk and Iron Man. 2nd, speaking of Iron Man... I'll be moving on to the sequel, War Machine! I'm planning it out now, and all I can say right now is that I actually think it's going to be even BETTER than the first fic. AAAHHH everything's happening!

But again, not until I finish this current fic, which I'm very excited to do. I still have some lingering college work to do, but by next week I'll be able to fully focus on these next projects. Thanks again everyone for reading, and I may have more updates soon!

21/11/23: I am pleased to announce… that both the Hulk and The Consultant are finished! YAYYY!

Firstly again, thank you so much for the support on the Incredible Hulk! Over 900(!!!) hits at the end is a dream come true, and I’m so glad it’s taken off… and for a fic based on one of the least popular movies, that is VERY encouraging for the future.

More relevant to this update, I have finished the first one-shot, the Consultant! It’s a little shorter than I estimated it to be, but it works well for the story — if you are now invested in this, please consider checking it out and giving it some support as well! It will spoil the end of the Hulk, but it’s still good enough to stand on its own. :)

It’ll also tide me over until I’ve finished the first chapters of the next project, which will be the sequel to Iron Man. In regards to when that comes out, I’m hoping that they’ll either be done by the end of this month or in the first week of December. Unlike the Hulk I’m hoping to get a head start on this so I can have more breathing room… but I will not be taking a break for Christmas or anything like that, so you can expect some consistency! Expect 2-4k length chapters for this for a total of 45 chapters. (It’s pretty big, but I estimate it will round out to over 100k words in the end.)

That’s all for now! I’ll see you later.

26/11/23: I am well ahead of my schedule! Well over four chapters into War Machine done, and hopefully another one or two this week before I release the beginning of the fic. You guys have NO idea how much a roll I am on, and how much fun I'm having writing this. I suspect I'll slow down a little at some point in December, but I can at least be confident that I could be possibly done with this fic by January. How awesome is that?!

Also: this fic is definitely gonna be way longer than 100k words. Aaaanyway, expect the first chapters a few days from now! And thank you for checking back on the Slate. ;)

27/11/23: I'm tired of waiting. The fic is out now. (Also, I accidentally wrote the wrong date for the last few posts. Whoops :/)

1/12/23: HOLY CRAP, that's a lot of hits! :O 1500+ on Iron Man, 1000+ on Incredible Hulk, 500+ on the slate and 50+ on my latest fic. Not gonna lie, it's a lot of pressure... but thank you all so much for reading and loving my work!

Nothing new to share other than I'm working on War Machine — and that the next chapter should be released tomorrow. I'm writing these well in advance so I have time to make proper edits and last-minute changes before I release them, which should work out and allow me some breathing room. I think there's a good chance that if I'm consistent enough, I will indeed finish it in January! If this new schedule works out that well, it also means I will have plenty of time to get a head start on the next fic I do.

Thank you everyone! :'D

29/12/23: I'm going to be releasing something new here right at the end of the year, before 2024 begins. I won't say much more about it until then!

The last update was referring to this post

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction

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talenlee · 4 months

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The Everything Wrapup of 2023

Here we are, at the end of the year.

I write a lot on this blog — this year represents a full 365,000 words, more or less. I cover a range of topics, too, with ideas like the interactions within queerness and politics, the life of a fundamentalist Christian, game making, writing, media analysis and of course, by volume, tons and tons of Dungeons & Dragons nonsense.

Chances are, at the end of the year, you haven’t read everything I’ve done. I have, but I’m just one person, and therefore, statistically negligible. What if you want to read a bunch of stuff on my blog, but don’t know what I made this year that you’d think is cool?

Let me give you a run-down on my favourite articles of 2023, then! Get ready for some links!

First of all, the articles about Dungeons & Dragons. I wrote about the prestige class system, which wound up distorting the game around it, and oh look it’s capitalism again. I wrote about the way that D&D gets you playing with its ideas before you ever touch a dice, and the way that DMs should give players a meaningful mechanical anchor to a story type they want (ie, a boyfriend). Also, in the vein of a stuff I felt like I should have addressed a long time ago, this is the year I decided to finally grapple (hah) with the grappling rules in 3e, which I have been joking about for years.

Then I took things to the other side of the screen in 3e, looking at the idea of action economies, through one of the most broken 3e spells, Haste, about what monsters imply about the world with the question of what an otyugh means; not what it is or what it does, but what it means when you see one. There’s also an article to inspect the confusing worldbuilding presented by gods with an incentive system, and a consideration of the monsters from the epic level handbook, my favourite part of that book.

I looked at 4th edition a lot, of course, because it’s the best edition. This year though, I made a change from my usual content of ‘explaining how this works’ to people, and instead started on talking about ways I expand it, or execute on it. For example, I talked about using ideas from Blades in the Dark for skill challenges that normally seem very singular, and I dumpstered one of the worst classes in 4e D&D for fun, and explained the ability scores part of D&D, something that I feel needs to be how it is even if there’s no good reason for it to be this way. Also, since it was going to be necessary for eventual consideration in some How To Be articles, I figured I’d examine the critical hit system of 4e D&D, and how to take advantage of it.

I suppose if I’m talking about the year in review and I’m already in Hasbro territory, have the articles about Magic: The Gathering that best represented my feelings about Magic: The Gathering, a game that has released twenty sets in the past two years, of which I have liked three, and hated the rest. There was my 20th year anniversary playing mtg and the anger and despair I felt about it, there was anger and despair at the lord of the rings cards and then, since I wasn’t done, a bunch of anger about the dr who cards as well I guess.

That’s D&D in the general though, what about D&D in the specific? Ie, my D&D, the D&D that’s about the world I made and play in, and have been playing in since I was a teenager?

I have been actively trying to present Cobrin’Seil as a whole place, examining systems and places and all that stuff. That meant a lot of what I was doing was finally formalising and writing down cultures and places because how do you belong to a world if you can’t point to the nearby parts of the world and know what’s over there?

First, I decided to describe the boundaries of the country of Dal Raeda, the importance of the Eresh Protectorate’s Kings’ Highway, through the story of the city Lagan. Heading north, into the vast sprawling forests of the north, I spread out across the continent, showing a host of the countries and cities there. Then I showed you Mosetto, a zeppelins and airships driven cogcore country inspired by Nausicaa, and the Mykin that live in their canyon. Further north and in the biting colds, there’s Torrent, a city of constant lightning storms, and the jock weedsman war monks that live there and refuse to die. Back south to the ocean coast, but not into Dal Raeda, across the coastline, you see the archipelago country of Kyranou, a nation inspired by Greece and Avatar, and continuing along that coastline, across the neck that leads to Dal Raeda, there’s the magepunk roaring 20s country of Visente. South from Visente, into the ocean, there’s Uxaion, a dreadful mage-necro-cyberpunk island city for players to adventure against unfair things.

The biggest and most prominent change to the geography of the world was the project that started when I resolved to to strip out my old region with the weak name of ‘kryphaneos,’ and turned into a three part article examining that new location, and its particular locations and cultures. That was how I created my new favourite thing in the setting, the horror peninsula of the Szudetken, a place that is informed by a vision of horror that speaks to Christian Fundamentalism of the 1990s. Of course, once I’ve described the Szudetken, how can I guide players to belonging in those places? Player themes!

While I was doing large multi-part articles about varied cultural groups, what about The Beast People? Well, first, why the setting has those terms, and then, a consideration of those people , in two parts. I also looked into the assumptions about orcs and language, and even wondered whether or not ‘straight’ is the default in the world, at least as a created and reasonably communicated orientation. What’s more, while talking about the assumptions of language, I examined the economics of a ‘gold piece’ in a world and what that means about the assumed universality of capitalism.

But finally, and probably the most fun, and the one I want to use as a template for future examinations, I finally wrote up the Halfling Hulks and the player faction of the Northumbrians after them. I love this so much because I love the way it gives a player an experience of living in the world they are. The story of loading and unloading a boat, of the people you know around the docks, of the everyday normal for people, and the degrees of what a player character can be used to or expect. Sure, you probably know about ‘the big halfling boats’. But if you’re really familiar you might know the Northumbrians, by name. You might even be one.

When talking about fundamentalist nonsense, I feel the writing is less fun but no less important. Particularly, there are some ideas that people don’t seem to realise are present in Christian spaces, and assume that surely, that’s not a thing. Things like the seemingly absurd idea of suicide denial. This article wound up being about self-immolation? Which is not a non-bummer, lemme tell you.

I tackled the idea, and my framework for all consideration of Christian fundamentalism, in that I am firmly convinced that all fundamentalism is a grift. Any genuine believers are feeding into a system with a grifter upstream. Sometimes that grifter is after control, like they want to control people’s lives such as causes the horrorshow of dating while in a fundie church, and sometimes the grifter is trying to sell a particular product. Like, you know, the eerie conspiracy theory lurking underneath assumptions about translations and therefore why you should only buy the one they’re selling.

What about games? I make games! I love talking about games! Setting aside the Game Pile (and there was a video compiling those a few days ago), I also wrote a bunch about game making. In fact, this year featured a lot of design sketches for whole games:

Boyfriend Material, a game about monster-banging and its graphic design limits

A cooperative game design about wrestlers

A competitive game of bitchy gay courtiers sneering at one another

A Goncharov card game

A sorting-algorithm based game of building teams

A game about Goblin Postmasters messing up

A game design about Wandering Samurai choosing their paths

A design about Werewolves bootlegging and selling their wares

And then, removed from specific game designs, there’s my article considerating what parts of a game are or aren’t interface, which is based on a consideration of Donald Norman. Another article on how your game represents speed and therefore time, Bloodwork articles examining the ongoing design of a game about vampire gangs and what vampires are for, and probably my most well-seen article this year, a treatment of how the idea of ‘the magic circle’ is pretty much just privilege.

Media, media, media, I like media, you like media, we all like media and I sure talked about a bunch of media! I did an examination of the ship of Jessie Teamrocket and Ash’s Mom, which isn’t a joke, and is very much a well-supported ship, I wrote a long form examination of an incredibly tedious dude from a very mid anime who was nonetheless incredibly influential, a discussion of the character of Bridget Guiltygear and how boys might now feel alienated from her, an article about Goncharov, the movie that tumblr made up and had fun with and then the whole rest of the internet declared ‘cringe’ while we were having fun, an article about Halloween, the original one, which was so much better than I expected, an article about Lie To Me, a tv series built around a pseudoscience masquerading as real science masquerading as real magic, an article about how we perceive a series like Lycoris Recoil, the absolute beast of an article about what I still think of as ‘the first half’ of Megatokyo, the series of articles about My Hero Academia, a show that gets worse the more I remember it, a series of articles about Person of Interest, my article about the truly excellent anime Summer Time Rendering and then my article about the There She Is!! web animation that’s also about racism.

You know, the easy stuff. Then I went on to present a consideration of generative art, with ‘Smooth Alex Jones,’ my thoughts about Chernobyl and the idea of measuring harm not by deaths but by lost life because of that whole pandemic and global climate crisis haha, why racist colonialism was part of the horror of Lovecraft’s work and therefore you can’t just ‘ignore’ it, and hey, while we’re talking about how we perceive reality, I also wrote about the miserable feeling of watching reality bifurcate in front of me and realising I will never not be angrier. Don’t worry, though I wasn’t stuck with downers, because I was able to also write something about a fun little glance at the Confederacy’s currencies, which are bad, because Confederate art consistently sucks, and a queer reading of Wreck It Ralph’s only interesting plot.

This is also the year in which I finally became a fan of The Locked Tomb series, which remains weird to me because of my childhood with the author, who I haven’t spoken to in – well, a few months, but before that I hadn’t spoken to her in decades. Anyway, I read the Locked Tomb books this year, and gosh I liked them a lot!

If you wanna follow my journey, starting with the first book, then articles where I just kinda had more opinions on things that just happened to suddenly become about The Locked Tomb. Like how the way The Locked Tomb reflects my experience growing up wrong, then questions about how the mind and body relate to one another, and, as someone who grew up under a cult leader, an examination of the type of person Jod is.

Know what The Locked Tomb gets people talking about? Well depressed lesbians and sexy cannibalism, but also it’s the thing that leads to people talking about world building! And I’ve written about world building! I made a bunch of articles about doing a better job with world building.

Like how you can force variety into your world with math, the implications of magical genetics and how to avoid like, making wizards into eugenecists, the types of magic you can do with goo and why that’s cool as hell in my fantasy settings, considering how food works in worlds with sentient foodstuff based on Pokemon, and of course, bringing Star Wars in for a beating when I ask why you make a slave race that can feel pain, you weirdoes.

The two most important worldbuilding articles I wrote this year, in my opinion, the piece about The Major Difference between the Warlock and The Paladin. These two articles are in my opinion my best work and I still reference the Paladin one for people to give them ideas for approaching the identity of an idealistic warrior.

Finally, and this does follow on from The Locked Tomb I swear, I wrote about writing this year. And I’ve been thinking about writing a lot because of how that book makes me feel about my own writing. Basically I want to write better because oh my god they’re so good.

Anyway, I wrote about thinking about relationships in terms of who reacts and how you can make them react. I wrote about boys who are just generically positive in a way that suggests nothing about themselves, and how characterisation is more than being enjoyable to look at. I wrote a short fiction about mars conspiracy theories. Then, directly, I wrote about treating myself seriously and reflecting on writing after reading The Locked Tomb, and an attempt to improve my writing through an exercise in descriptive voice. Finally, and most importantly, I wrote about the importance of treating your work like it’s worth treating like it’s work.

That’s it.

That’s the year.

By a quick count I just linked you to a hundred thousand words’ worth of free reading. It’s good! I liked doing it! You should read it if you like! And if you don’t, I don’t care~!

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Diary

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musecaravan-info · 7 months

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Severus Snape

"How far can you go down the wrong path before you can’t get back on the right one?" ~ Carolee Dean, Take Me There ~

Basic Information

FACE/BODY CLAIM: Adrien Brody

AGE: That depends 100% on the timeline you want him in

EYES: Black

HAIR: Black

HEIGHT: 6'1

PRIMARY OUTFIT: Severus doesn't really care much about his appearance regardless of the timeline. The only caveat to this rule is his Professor robes. Those are always neat and pristine.

His personal wardrobe (especially once he could afford to buy his own clothes) is worn, but well-cared for. Basically , he doesn't believe in waste. He has exactly the amount of clothes he feels are necessary, and wears them until they wear out to the point of irreparability.

His wardrobe consist of dark colors and long sleeves (to hide old scars... and other things.) Everything he wears is simple in make and design - no patterns or frills- just solid colors. He prefers to not stand out whenever possible.

Personality

The personality you get when dealing with Severus will rely heavily on who your muse is and what point in time we're writing in. He is, after all, many different things to many different people at different points in his life. In general, Severus is a quiet individual, who's mastered the art of observing while remaining invisible. He's spent his whole life 'getting used to disappointment' and it shows in his reactions to people and to the world at large. There's a lot of anger pent up inside of him. He tries to keep it in check - to not be like his father - but he's not always successful.

Powers & Weaknesses

Severus is an incredibly powerful wizard. In addition to being HIGHLY skilled at potions, he is an unsurpassed Occlumens AND Legilimens. He also excels at wandless magic, and can cast (and expertly control) a fully-formed Patronus. From a young age, he's also had the ability to create spells 'on the fly,' so to speak, using his knowledge of spellwork and Latin to summon spells only he knows how to do.

As for weaknesses... none when it comes to his magic. However, his personality leaves a lot to be desired. He allows bitterness, jealousy, and anger to rule many of his actions, and can be very self-serving when the mood strikes. I would say his biggest weakness is being unable to see the good in others. It's almost like he's afraid to. The only person he ever saw any good in was taken from him, and he never wants to get attached like that again.

Romance

It can happen. But even with people he knows it MUST build over time. The only obvious exception to this rule is Lily. He loves her. Always has, always will. With others he needs to trust... and then to care. Those aren't easy things for him, but that CAN happen, given enough time and patience (...and maybe an angsty scene where he thinks the person is dead, for example. ;D)

Where to Find Him

This will depend on the timeline you want to write in. Let me know what you're thinking, and I'm happy to give a few ideas about the best place your muse can meet him. ^_^

Verses

Just because a verse isn't listed here doesn't mean I'm not interested in writing it. I adore all kinds of AUs, and welcome the chance to get creative with my muses. If you've seen a verse that another of my muses has, and you'd like to see this muse in something similar, let me know. You can also check out my 'Plot Ideas' tag, too. ^_^

Main Verse:

Severus Snape is a canon character from the Harry Potter universe. A lot of what you’ll find here is canon to the books. This canon universe is my default when writing starters, etc. unless you ask me for something AU. The timeline I choose will likely depend on who your muse is. However, I'd much prefer we discuss it beforehand, so we're both on the same page. Thanks! :)

Current/Ongoing Threads

If your thread with Severus isn't listed here it's probably because it's been long enough since your last reply that I thought you'd dropped it. Message me to let me know you're still interested, and I'll happily add you to the list (with no pressure for a reply.) ♡

None at the Moment

Your Thread Here!

Stuff That's Good to Know Before Starting a Thread

I ask that you please keep in mind that there is only so much about Severus that’s actually canon - the rest is much more about perception. And if my perception differs from yours, telling me (while it might spark an interesting discussion) probably isn’t going to make any difference in how I choose to roleplay him.

I have watched the movies and read the books more than once (except for Deathly Hallows - that one is too hard for me to get through emotionally.) However, please know that I do not have a photographic memory, so if I make a mistake with something don’t be afraid to tell me. As long as you’re not rude about it, I promise to hear you out. ^_^

Links

Please keep in mind, this blog is an ongoing work in progress. Not all of these links may lead somewhere, but they're here because they link to potential tags for this muse.

All Things Severus

Headcanons

Drabbles

All Threads

Ask Replies

Meme Replies

Aesthetics

Face

Special Links

Original Blog

Quotes that Fit Severus

Fandom Meta about Severus that I Like

Return To Full Muse List

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cold-arrow · 1 year

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Doctor’s notes, entry ??

new fifth book, part 8 | The depths of Yartar | Turning Tides / The Anguished Ascend |

Summary, things of note since last entry: ( elaborate version )

Lym being under control, what to do, seemingly compliant? exit out of the liar, the ambush, turning tides, The Aboleth's influence, Lym's betrayel, the bite, the banishment, retract and retreat, Lyms escape, the drop and lym's unshackling the sorrow of her confession and guilt, our return to the surface the pendant, the private bath, resting and recuperating. The disease and the transformation. Lym's distance, lumos v2 Cant find the cure, I need more info; samples, the second excursion into the sewers the dissected and infected. Lym's company. There is no cure or hope A high clerics Heal'ing, no sacrifice too great; except for one's self. left with little options

| 1 / 9 | . / .. / … I don’t really know what we could have done more the help lym. That creature, the damned fucking aquatic leech, proved to be a lot more dangerous, and powerful, then we could have ever excepted. If it had managed to not only take over Lym, but the others of us as well… I fear to think of what might have become of us. . Things didn’t really improve from there either, as we headed back up towards the surface. Lym seemed compliant, and cooperative as we made our way back up the tunnel that we;d came from. But all of us were on edge, occasionally sneaking a nervous glance at her. But she seemed oddly calm. When -- we arrived at the final incline, by the sewer canal that Baras had blocked of. We… were ambushed once more as soon as I emerged from the tunnel below, I was grappled and restrained by nets and spears, that pulled me out of reach from the others. Lym had suddenly disappeared into the dark a head us, and shortly afterwards, a tidal wave of sewage flooded the tunnel that Baras and Omrick were still in, pushing them back and and down the passage. I struggled the best I could, trying to free myself from the nets, but I was still heavily injured from our fight before. And there were too many of them. I managed to cut myself loose eventually, and shakily fired some crossbow bolts at the Kuo’toa that were attacking us. But I was outnumbered, and Lym was nowhere In sight. The Aboleth must have not only have had control over her, but all the other Kuo’toa down here as well. Baras and Omrick arrived just in time before I could get captured and dragged away again. Clambering out of the tunnel below after a second wave had pushed them once more. But they managed to fight off the Kuo’toa by the entrance, and gave us some breathing room.

.. But that is also when we heard Lym’s voice from the darkness -- Beseeching us to stop resisting, to lay down our arms. Telling us that everything would be alright, if we just gave in, and gave up. but we weren’t willing to do so... So that’s when she turned hostile again. Unleashing her divine magic upon us. Further aiding ambush that the Aboleth had laid out for us. If…. If it hadn’t been for Baras banishing her. I think we all would have fallen in those tunnels. She only get the chance the unleash her divine fury on us like maybe once, or twice. Before Baras removed her from the fight. Safely. gently. not wanting to hurt her. after that we finally managed to turn the tides in our favour. Taking down most of the kuo’toa around us. But I did get bitten by one, the slimy bastard. And their grappling spears where a pain to deal with. Omrick got stuck in of their nets as well, and was unable to chase after them once they fled. And there seemed to be shaman or chief or sorts, that was leading them, and thwarting us with thier primal or devout? magics. Once most of his subordinates were defeated though, it began to flee. But not peacefully. He unleashed some rather violent spells, especially upon Baras, who eventually lost his grasp on the banishment he was focussing on. And Lym returned to join the fight. still under the Aboleth’s control. Though she seemed a lot less aggressive at that point. And upon noticing the decreasing numbers of the ambushers, -- She fled as well. Going invisible and suddenly disappearing into the dark. I … wasn’t sure what to do at that point. whether to stop her, chase her, reason with her. Or if I should even… shoot her, at that point. I lifted my crossbow with trembling hands. And pointed it at her, ready to shoot. “ready” perhaps being an exaggeration. But she was moving away from us. Retreating with the rest of the Kuo’toa. I… couldn’t just let that Happen. Let her fall into the hands, and further influence of the Aboleth. So… I steeled myself the best I could. And trained my crossbow on where I last saw her, and the direction of her footsteps. Ready -- to shoot and hopefully knock her out, without harming her too much.

… but I didn’t get the chance. Which I have mixed feelings about. The shaman had retreated to one of the downward pipes, taht we saw before, and was ready to jump in. But I managed to shoot and kill him at least before he could do so. getting at least some semblance of revenge, for hurting us but Lym was heading the same way, making to escape. She used some sort of magic from her lineage to create of field of darkness, obscuring her from us as she tried to run away. And she jumped into the hole, about to disappear from us for good. But, when she landed. We instead heard her scream. I panicked. Quickly running up to where she jumped down or fallen. Unsure if I should be worried for her well being or dangerous magic. I peaked down, aiming my crossbow, which was shaking so much at that point I wouldn’t even have been able to fire a straight shot. But she had fallen down there. And was clutching her head. blood streaming from her orfices, nose and ears. With voice entirely saturated with worry, fear and concern I tried calling out to her. Called her name. Concerned as to whether she was alright. And, she answered. She replied with agony and pain filling her voice, And said “no”. With what might have been tears streaming from her eyes, mingling with blood but she had stopped running Almost paralyzed with pain as she clutched her head. I wondered if she’d fallen or landed wrong and hit her head. Or if the pain had pierced through her mind, and brought her back control, or back to her senses. We lowered ourselves down to pipe as well, to join still somewhat worried and suspicious of what she might do. But, she seemed… I don’t know She seemed… herself ? I tentatively asked, if I could heal her. And if she would stop running, or fighting us if we did so. so I gave her one of my healing potions, and administered it to the areas in particular, that seemed to be bleeding. Hopefully healing some of the mental / physical trauma to her head or mind. but she seemed… in control ?

| 2 / 9 | we lifted her out of the hole, carefully. But even after she regained her senses a bit, she didn’t seem well. Apologizing to us. Trying to explain – what had come over her. she said that it had taken control over mind. And her actions. Talking to her, instructing her, whispering in her ear. Promising her everything she desired and wished for, if she obeyed, and listened. But it wasn’t even like she had a choice. Like she could agree or refuse. She was simply forced to do as it said. To do what it asked and wanted of her, and help it. heal it. support it. And to deceive us. she didn’t actually go into this much detail. but from what little she told us, it definitely seemed like it was the case, at least And it’s not… its not like Im not familiar with it, with this sort of Horrible and Afwul kind of… experience, sensation. I wouldn’t wish that kind of thing to anybody… | I should have said I forgived her. That I understood, and didn’t blame her for anything. But, I only got excuses as to why I havnt yet. Tired, exhausted. beaten and bloody. it might have still helped if she’d heard it though. she seemed… despondent? after that, to say the least

| 3 / 9 | I’m kinda feeling unwell myself | Actually not really feeling too good. Got a pretty bad cough. Perhaps a lung infection. Bit paler then usual as well. And the bite wound that the Kuo’Toa left on me itches a bit as well, which isn’t good. Might haven gotten infected. And I don’t even wanna think about what I might have accidently inhaled while I was shoved underwater down there, or what kind of rancid things those creatures eat. will have to down a restorative, or even bathe perhaps, in some of my restorative elixirs when we get back. Feeling a bit parched as well to be honest. So maybe both. | Before heading back to the tavern, we stopped by the Rosolio household. The father opened up this time. Simply took the pendant we found for them, and slammed to door in our faces. Asshole The The Bastard reminds of my father. If he ends up go…. nvm I don’t want to think abo go down this rabbit hole right now. they can try and cure their son themselves. Feel bad for the kid, and I would like to help him once we all feel better. But I don’t have to time or energy, or fucks to give right now. ( I need to drink more water. Didn’t care much for it while we were down in the sewers. But I seem somewhat dehydrated, maybe im getting ill. perhaps I should up my meds and take care of that right now. )

| 4 / 9 | I… I’m not entirely sure what to do. for I seem to have a rather large problem. I don’t exactly know how it happened. But I seem to have been infected with the same disease that Artan Is suffering from. I am currently stuck inside a bathtub, back at tavern. And… I cant leave. as soon as I do. I begin rapidly dehydrating, to the point where my skin feels like its on fire or dissolving, If I don’t remain submerged I don’t think I can…. Im stuck. im need to try and figure out something. … I had asked to innkeep if I could take a bath last night, feeling much better once I had submerged, and cleaned myself a bit. And I pretty much just passed out from exhaustion after that. Inside their bath… And when I woke up. I … the condition of my skin seems to be eerily similar to that of Artan rosolio. Slimy and… slightly translucent. And I fear on worry, that I might turn into one of those ugly fish people as well, if I don’t find a cure soon. For both me, and Artan’s sake.

| 5 / 9 | the others are… rather concerned. And Lym is nowhere to be found. Seemingly avoiding us and having gone of into town. I hope she’s alright. Baras is stuck in his room and cant leave because he’s wanted man. And Omrick seems both stressed as well as bored. I asked him if he could go on shopping errand for me, to perhaps fetch some ingredients for a moisturizer. hopefully that will help. But im not sure what to do. I’ve tried to figure out more about my condition. But nothing I try, seems to works, nor can I figure out how, what, why, -- Or pretty much anything really about this disease. So I’ve just been tinkering with a new chassis for Lumos, to try and kill some time. Stole one of the lanterns and grabbed some spare parts from my bag, and tried to keep myself busy. distracted. If… I don’t do something, the worry and stress and sheer terror of my situating are going to kill me. id feel guilty about having stolen and preoccupying to innkeepers bath for so long. But considering he took advantage of my tired and sick state, and overcharged me, wildly, to simply wash and bathe myself. I cant say I really care that much to be honest. There is the occasional concerned enquery from him, but he doesn’t seem to want really want to enter. Happy to give me my privacy and not to get involved. I’ve asked him to send Lym my way though, if when she returns. maybe she could perhaps help, or know of a way to cure me.

| 6 / 9 | after doing some more tests, ive concluded that the only thing I might be able to do, to figure out more about my condition, or how to cure it; Is that I need more… samples. if I can get my hands on some of the…. parts from the Kuo’toa, maybe Ill be able to figure something out | After having been gone for most of the day, Lym has -- warily, returned to the tavern, thankfully. I think she need some space. Some time alone. Which I can undestand Im glad to see she’s back though, and is... mostly alright. And she was kind enough to check in how bad my Situation was. -- We talked for a bit, as I tried to explain my condition the best I could to her. But she unfortunately didn’t seem to know of any good solutions or cures either. ( I really hope she isn’t feeling to guilty about it, or feeling too responsible. I do not blame her. Not at all. I fully forgive her for what happened, if there is even anything to forgive. It was just… an unfortunate series of circumstances, coalescing into a ball of misfortune. But she may need some time to just process I suppose. To recover, from that I can very much understand that, with al… nvm ) after talking for a bit, I asked her if she could perhaps go with Omrick, or just send him, into the sewers. To maybe retrieve some samples from the Kuo’Toa. Maybe, if I inspect their biology and anatomy, I can perhaps figure out a way to find a cure msyelf. And Artan. I was a little reluctant upon hearing that she’d be willing to go along with Omrick, down into the sewers. But maybe she’ll feel better if she can do something to help with my condition? Omrick seemed a bit restless as well, so I don’t think he really minds going back down there, to take care of some more fish peple (besides the smell)

| 7 / 9 | I was a bit worried, considering the both of them were gone for quite a while. But to my relief, they eventually arrived back at the tavern. With quie some Kuo’Toa bits in tow as well. It took a bit for them to get to the sewers apparently, for they’d spotted Athalia, walking through the streets with another young noble in tow. It seems that she couldn’t hold off for much longer on her next “delivery”. So they decided to follow her for a bit, to so see where she’d take the poor sod. making a mental note of the location, which ofcourse appeared to be another sewer entrance. Different from the one that we’d used. not wanting to interfere, both for her safety and theirs, they decided to had back to the other sewer entrance, and quickly grab a body. However when they arrived, most of the Kuo’Toa corpses were gone. Either have been taken back by their tribesman, or eaten by whatever else makes it home down there. So it took a bit of searching for them to actually find one of the ones we defeated, from before. Turns out that the one corpse they did actually manage to find, was the one from the shaman that I somehow managed to shoot down before they could escape. The one that… fell down the same hole as Lym did. I guess it was either too well hidden, or too difficult to retrieve or something, for the Kuo’toa. But Lym and Omrick eventually managed to pull it out of there, and collect some coagulated blood. And then expertly butchered and dissected the rest of the body actually. Lym did an amazing job of it, I have to say, and neatly removed some of the stranger and more enigmatic parts, from the unnatural corpse. Omrick headed to bed after that. Grumbling a bit about smelling terrible and not being able to bathe. But Lym decided to stay behind and keep my company for the night. I… told her id be fine, and that she should get some proper rest in one of the beds. But she refused and made herself comfortable by the floor next to the bath. Which, I did very much appreciate actually, if im being honest. Even more so now since I’ve been having a hard time sleeping in here. And the company is actually quite nice. Ill probably stay up all night though, try to study the Kuo’toa remains. so ill have to try and be quiet hopefully Ill be able to figure something out with what they recovered for me.

| 8 / 9 | At this point, ive counted every single board on the ceiling. and every tile on the floor and walls withing this room. multiple times. It took a bit to not mess up the numbers. But there are: exactly 107 boards in this room. And 362 tiles. … there is… there is nothing I can do. There is no cure. or hope I’m… not simply unable, or not skilled enough to cure my affliction. It lies far outside the realm of what I could even do. or cure. or heal with my medicinal and alchemical practices. The onliest thing that can cure me at this point, is either a miracle. Or the divine magics and healing of a powerful cleric. I told lym as much when she woke up, when she asked if I managed to figure out a cure. And I told her, that… there’s nothing I can do. I thought that, maybe she might be able to do something. that there might possibly be some divine magic that she could summon, or some miracle that she could work, that could save me from turning into a fish person. Because She IS an amazing cleric. And has saved our lives many a times so now. And done incredible things far beyond anyone’s expectations, including her own probably. But, she cant think of anything that she has in her repertoire that might be able to help. And she’s still exhausted and depleted, from the horrors we went through down in the sewers. So even is she wanted to try something right now, she couldn’t.

… | 9 / 9 | we discussed trying greater restoration for a bit. Give it a try ourselves. It didn’t seem to work on Artan apparently, and I doubt it will work for me. But Lym might be right in that its still worth a shot, and to try. It Can’t hurt I guess. she also mentioned perhaps looking for… other means of curing me, or finding help. But with a tone that… immediately caused me concern, and raised alarms. Like she was thinking of doing something uns… Of sacrificing herself, to try and fix things. I… kind of panicked. And might have overreacted a bit though putting up a stern front, and saying that: “if she found a way to cure me by sacrificing more of herself, and make a “deal” or something. That would only cause her more suffering, just so she could find an easy way to fix me.” That I wouldn’t forgive her, or accept that. “ but… I didn’t really put it that well. And she left or pretty stormed off, after I said that. I know she only wants to help. and that she feels responsible. And that is alright, and everything is hopefully going to be alright. but sacrificing herself doesn’t only hurt her in the end. But it hurts us as well. we care about her. And don’t want her to suffer anymore than us or she already has. * But I guess she hasn’t fully realized that yet. As if self-sacrifice for the greater good, is a virtue. And admirable. And that she herself might be les… I really want to destroy and eradicate the bult of *Bane*for ruining the lives of good people like her. if she does do something that compromises? her further. Or causes her more sussering… I guess ill just have to accept that. It’s her choice after all. I just hope she takes our feelings on the matter into consideration. that’s all I can hope for. * ( but is that selfish?) … I guess we should just keep looking… for an answer. A cure As long as I have time, we can keep trying right? lets just hope there is enough of it. ( Also, it has happened several times now, but ever since I got back from the sewers, and started to… turn, people kept complaining about the smell. Even though I’ve been ive been in the bathtub, and havnt left, since we got back from the sewers. Do I really smell that bad ?? ) | End or part 2 |

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