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qierxing · 8 months

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A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.

TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”

“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”

— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

vi. Mourning

It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.

Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.

So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly.

It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.

Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.

"Hey Ace?"

He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.

"Do you…like…being my friend?"

The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.

"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.

Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back.

"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"

Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."

He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.

"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far."

What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.

Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.

Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.

"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.

Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.

"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?"

Another question out of left field.

"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke.

"Yeah…" they murmur back.

"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.

"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"

"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"

Yuu shakes their head.

"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"

Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."

But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.

He should've known something was up since that night.

When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual.

"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.

The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.

Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-

-then what had he done?

When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that.

The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"

Bang! Bang!

He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.

"Yuu–!"

"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-

"Ace, look at me!"

He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.

There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while.

"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.

"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.

Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.

"What do you mean they're–"

"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."

Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–

He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.

He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"

"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."

And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.

He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.

Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.

But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.

Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.

Please let this be a bad dream.

He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things!

Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-

Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone.

Ace tried two more times to meet you.

First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.

The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.

Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).

It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.

He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter.

And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.

vii. Embalming

The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.

That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.

Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.

No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.

The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough.

He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.

It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now.

What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly.

The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.

It has your face. It acts like you.

But it's not you.

When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”

“You were so sure only because of that?”

He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.

But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.

Grim is missing again.

This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.

But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First].

The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).

But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.

The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.

“Go away.”

Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.

“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu.

“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”

“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”

His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.

“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”

He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”

“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”

“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.

“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”

It bursts into laughter at his face.

“Why, I only granted their wish!”

Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.

What did you wish for?

It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon.

In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations.

And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.

Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.

“Come in.”

A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.

“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in.

“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.

“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.

“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out.

"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.

“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.

“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”

He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”

Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation.

For once, he starts to resent not having more.

"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"

This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.

"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"

"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance.

"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes.

"Not the weird rules again…"

"Ace."

"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."

"You better, or else it's–"

"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…

Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander.

Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?

"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.

"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts.

“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”

“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”

For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.

“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.

But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in.

“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.

“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”

viii. Calling Hours

“I’m not joking around, you two.”

There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.

“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”

“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”

The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.

“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”

“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”

"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"

It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.

“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”

Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"

"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally."

Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."

The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.

"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.

"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."

Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.

A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.

"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"

"Don't even start." Trey groans.

Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—

A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."

Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement.

"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"

Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."

Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."

"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.

"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."

"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."

Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?

He supposes that was his fault, though.

"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"

The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."

Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."

"Yeah, but look how that turned out."

"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash.

"Cater."

There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'

"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.

"Please don't lie to me next time."

With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen.

Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.

Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?

It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.

It's just not fair.

Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-

He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.

He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.

Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.

There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.

“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.”

The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.

“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”

“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.

It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.

There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt.

Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough.

Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?

Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?

His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him.

"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"

You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards.

"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.

"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?"

Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."

The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

viiii. Eulogy

It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.

That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.

Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.

“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him.

The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors.

“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.

“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)

“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”

Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved.

Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.

“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”

Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day.

He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?

Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”

“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”

Trey swallows hard.

“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”

He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.

Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.

—

Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).

But he worries.

Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges.

It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.

Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down.

He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.

As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.

If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants.

Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.

So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him.

He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute.

You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.

The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.

Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate.

The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes.

His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily.

He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other.

You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air.

What was that?

x. Entombment

It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.”

Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”

“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear.

Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.

His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.

“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back.

“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”

“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.”

Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.

“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.

“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.

It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…

“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.

“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary.

What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.

Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.

He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.

—

It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago.

To never get on Cater’s bad side.

There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you.

Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.

"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"

Deuce's neck prickles.

"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.

"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.

"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says.

“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”

“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.”

Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed.

“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”

“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.

“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”

“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”

Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak.

“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.

“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”

“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”

Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam.

“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone.

Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.

He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking.

Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #my works #damn this is the most ive ever written.....insane

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fangswbenefits · 5 months

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getting this off my chest

I really, really love writing for this fandom.

I think I haven't felt like this in years.

Astarion is such an enticing vessel for my creativity and has rekindled my joy for writing and putting it out there.

Alas, imposter syndrome really gnaws at my nerves more often than I care to admit.

"But Ruby, you have so many people who like your work. Why do you doubt yourself?"

Because I grew up being told I was never enough. That I was the worst at what I did best, which back then was learning English and surrounding myself in the language, hence why I sought comfort in fanfiction.

My sister, whom I love dearly, is an English teacher. She would be so harsh on me, and I know she meant well. She really did. But it was so hard back then. I would come to her with creative writing in English and she would just roll her eyes and tell me I wasn't good enough.

Nowadays, she acknowledges that I am more proficient than her and more at ease with the language, and even tells my nephew to study English with me instead.

But back then, I needed someone to believe I could do better.

So, there is a part of me that is proud that I am able to deal with real-life fatigue by writing and finding enjoyment in this hobby. But a much darker part of me tells me I'm not worthy and that I simply got lucky.

The Arrangement means a lot to me. I tend to dive right into fandoms and start writing for the character that caught my eye.

But I couldn't do that for Astarion... I am still unsure why. For those of you who have been here from my Miguel O'Hara days or when I first started posting about Astarion, you'll know The Arrangement was the first thing I ever posted for him.

Took me 2 weeks to get the first chapter out because I kept thinking I couldn't find a voice for Astarion. One that felt like him. After all, I'm always a step behind because I am not a native speaker. There will always be that looming feeling that I can't convey this story properly.

Even if you now know me for my Astarion smut, that wasn't even the driving force of my love for him.

It took me 2 months to feel comfortable writing smut for him. Why? I don't even know.

But The Arrangement feels different.

I love writing it and I love taking my liberties with the plot.

It's my opportunity to fully showcase my love for him.

I know not everyone likes it. I know some of you have dropped it. Some of you will drop it. But some will walk along this path with me, and I can't stress enough how your feedback and love help keep these negative thoughts at bay.

It's an internal work, though. It is not your job to validate my writing skills. This is not what puts food on my table. I am not looking to be published. I am looking for an escape. And it's so frustrating when my mind tries to rob me of joy even when it comes to a hobby.

"If this is a hobby why does it matter what others think or if they like what you write? Just have fun. Write for yourself."

And I do write for myself, but I share my work because I am hopeful my words can make someone's day. I seek that connection I never had growing up. Perhaps it sounds silly, but it's what makes the most sense in my head.

The Arrangement should be my pride and joy even if not perfect (nothing ever is, I suppose). And I'm exhausted of not feeling proud of it. I'm tired of this vicious cycle of self-doubt.

Don't get me wrong. I love writing smut. I think that's what I'm best at (well, in my opinion). I love exploring Astarion this way, too, but...

I don't know where I'm going with this... if anyone has made it this far, thank you, and sorry for the word vomit...

#ruby rambles ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

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mikareo · 6 months

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⌗ SEASONS OF LOVE ₊ ˖ ་. a 呪術廻戦 miniseries

“ ࣭⸰ ★ SERIAL ROMANTIC ; gojo satoru x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . episode three ! ꒱ . . . word count; 1.1k ⠀ ⠀ ᯇ lost confessions, missed connections

⊹ ⠀⠀ gojo's halloween costume is ryan gosling's sebastian; though he should've dressed up as a lovesick, idiotic clown.

contains; gojo x fem reader, university (year 2) au, angst, fluff, gojo's a dick, swearing, best friends to lovers, love triangle

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

so much has changed in the past two and a half months that gojo can't even begin to comprehend it all.

firstly, you're practically an entirely new person. how did that happen? rather than him devouring every word in your conversations, you're actually keeping up now; and your funny. you're really funny. he never knew that, and it's definitely a pleasant surprise to discover. you're also so confident. before the school year began, you could be compared to a mouse staring at rat poison— so timid and shy, without any means to argue with him or introduce yourself to his other friends, but now you do both with no signs of nerves or anxiety. it's no wonder that all eyes were on you tonight. with your bright yellow dress and pink lipstick, you looked gorgeous; something out of a hollywood film. luckily for him, as the ryan gosling to your emma stone, no guys dared to approach you with his arm wrapped around your waist for a whole three hours.

he likes this new you. he doesn't understand why, but there's just something about you that ticks his boxes. something that appeared out of nowhere and he can't seem to ignore. why? he's not used to feeling this way and he hates it. he fucking hates it.

"tonight was really fun." there's a soft smile on your face as you're looking through the windshield. he's just pulled up to your dorm building, and the familiar sight appears to be comforting to you. "thanks for bringing me."

he did do that didn't he?

"yeah, no problem." his answer is tame as his thoughts run wild.

it's not uncommon for him to invite you to parties, though he used to force you to accompany him and sit in the corner while he made out with as many girls as he found hot; but tonight was the first time you agreed to come to this particular party. aka the halloween party to top all other lame and sorry excuses for a social gathering. originally, he used to ask you to come because geto was always so busy with schoolwork and studying— making it very clear that you were always his second option— now, he personally asked you without approaching his male best friend first. "sorry about those guys, earlier. they were just messing with me."

you smile. "it's okay, as long is it didn't bother you."

it did bother him, though.

with the relentless remarks from his classmates, gojo hears their words echoing in his ears. so you finally found yourself a real girlfriend! no, he didn't. wow, the great satoru gojo got himself pinned down! as if. of all the girls you could pick, you picked her? i would've wanted loads of others before landing on this one. what the fuck kind of question was that?

he's not exactly ashamed to be seen with you. he knows he doesn't want other men giving you attention, yet at the same time he can't help but want to keep his reputation high. who is gojo satoru without his playboy status? he's just a man. there's nothing too special about him other than his handsome looks, and he can't seem to be able to let go of his ego just yet; no matter how devastated the lovesick look in your eyes is making him feel.

"why're you staring at me?" his voice is shaking with nerves, anxiety pumping through his blood at a rapid pace.

"i just love the way your hair falls over your eyes." oh no. "i get little glimpses of blue every time you breathe."

please. please don't confess.

"sometimes when i look at you, i feel myself floating in some type of way. i don't really know how to describe it, but i've always felt it. it's like i've been in love with you since i first met you. which, to be honest, is definitely true. the reason i haven't considered anyone else on campus is because a part of me is waiting for you to feel the same way— and it's been really hard with all of the other girls you spend time with, but you also give me so much attention that it makes me feel special."

your words are so beautiful. so soft. gojo understands this 'floating' feeling you speak of. he's being lifted away by it. his heads is in the clouds, touching the sky, and wishing on shooting stars that this relationship will work. his heart wants this to work so badly; but his mind disagrees. no. it's not his mind that disagrees...

...it's his narcissism.

"i love you, satoru. i always have."

he wants to love you, too...

...but he can't.

"i think you got the wrong idea." he tries to laugh off your confession, avoiding eye contact so he doesn't need to see your heart breaking in real time. "this was all just a bit of fun tonight, the costume and everything. i didn't know you'd assume i liked you."

he knows he's being an asshole.

"you've taken it all too seriously, really. i didn't think of it like a couple outing or a date. it's just a party."

he knows he should stop and apologize.

"i don't love you like that. i never have."

finally, he looks over to you. you're staring straight at him with tears struggling not to fall and sniffling softly. if gojo could read minds, he knows that you're at war with yourself; trying to decide whether to give up on him or give him another chance. in an ideal world, he'd deserve another chance. no, scratch that. in an ideal world, he would've accepted your confession. he would've leaned over the armrest and kissed you with all of the passion he's been holding back. you would've smiled while kissing him, fighting to contain giggles of glee, and running your fingers through his hair that you love so much. gojo would've admitted that the other girls were just a distraction so he could ignore his burning feelings for you; and that all this time, he's been scared— too scared of losing you, his best friend, to confess.

but that isn't how this scenario played out.

instead, you're muttering a million apologies and sobbing quietly in the passenger seat of his car, while he looks at you with nothing but pity. gojo satoru doesn't understand how to love. he doesn't understand that in order to love, one needs to set aside their own heart, and make space for another. he's not ready to make that commitment, and it's almost laughably obvious that your friendship is over.

"i'll see you around, satoru." your hand unlocks the door. your feet landing on the pavement as you hop out of the vehicle. your figure fleeting into the shadows of the night...

...his heart fleeting with you.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

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fudgelling-away · 1 month

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I am posting a WIP to share how happy I am that I've made that reference pic for Sans. It was a pain but it was worth it. It really is useful. I hope it will help me keep his appearance consistent for at least some time.

As you can see, drawing his belly was not enough to satisfy my simping needs, no... I had to lift his shirt up... heheh. I just cannot control myself.

Other than becoming more unhinged in my obsession, it feels like I started to make some progress in art. Learning how to draw properly is very hard for me because I am mentally exhausted after my office work. It's a very fast-paced, difficult job. After hours of problem solving I am left with no strength and no desire to learn anything new. All I want is to... do nothing and just rest, really, but I force myself to keep being creative. I cannot force myself to properly study drawing, though. That would be too much and I have no space for another mental load to bear.

That being said, I still feel like I am making some progress. And I am happy, and that's what matters. Right now I am working on a reference sheet for expressions, as well as drawing his skull from different perspectives. That's a lot of fun and it's not nearly as frustrating as I thought it would be.

Also, I am trying to become active on AO3. I've recently realised that I talk about my favourite fics all the time but I am yet to leave a single comment. That is shameful and that's going to change. I will do better.

Other than that, I am focusing on finishing some of my ficlets, but English has become weirdly difficult for me these days. Not just English, actually. I don't know why. Everything I say feels wrong. The sentences I build feel... off. I have no idea what's up with that. It's possible that it's the lack of a proper sleeping schedule. I hope it will pass eventually. It's horribly frustrating.

I hope you all are doing well! I have seen tons of your pictures that I plan to reblog and comment on (about 50 are waiting in my drafts). I have fics waiting in a queue to be read. There is so much art everywhere... Thank you, Sans simp community, for being so awesome.

#my ramblings #sans #tw blood #cw blood #my works in progress

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gemini-magic17 · 5 months

Text

Entanglement Chapter Twenty-Six

**One Week Later (Y/n's POV)

It's been a couple of days since Ser Easton arrived back in Dristarya and things have been weighing on my mind. Ser Easton informed me that the cover story that Boorman came up with and the "proof" he provided my father panned out had me relieved. However, I couldn't forget the feeling I had when he told me that my family was still going out of their minds about my disappearance. The pain and heartbreak I am putting them through is practically what Kit did to me. How does that make me any better than what she did? I let out a sign as I held my head in my hands struggling on what to do. Should I stay on Dristarya or return to Tir Asleen? Rubbing my hands over my face I heard Ser Easton approaching.

"If you have come to check on me I will save you the trouble. I feel like my mind is going to explode and that I am a terrible excuse for a human being", I stated turning to him.

"You are not a terrible person I can assure you on that."

"Oh really then what would you call someone who up and abandoned her family on her wedding day not telling anyone where she was leaving them to go out of their mind with worry", I said and raised my eyebrows.

"I would say that she was someone who was in pain and didn't know whether or not she could keep going through the situation that she was forced in", he said trying to be reassuring.

"Say what you want Ser Easton but we both know the truth. I am a coward and a sorry excuse for a daughter for doing what I did."

"You can keep telling yourself how horrible of a person you are to but you are someone who was put in a situation that you didn't ask for where you were dealt a shitty hand. Anyone in your place would have done the same thing I know I would have if I were you", he retorted and I let out a sigh.

"But you aren't in my place and your family isn't losing hope that they will ever find you. Maybe its time that I go back."

"You mean to Tir Asleen? Are you serious?"

"It's time and I know how you feel about this whole thing but come on. We both knew that eventually, I couldn't hide forever and had to return", I said.

"After everything that has happened, you really want to go back to a place where you experienced nothing but suffering", he exclaimed.

"I know how you feel but I realized I need to put that aside and go back to explain to my family about all that has occurred. Anyway who knows Kit and I may be able to work out our issues", I stated.

"Right, where have I heard that before", he said sarcstically.

"Hey, she saved my life. Doesn't that count for something?"

"She may have saved your life but don't forget that she also destroyed a part of it or rather you for that matter. You gave her more than enough chances to fix what she had done she doesn't deserve anymore."

"After stopping that archer from killing me I think that warrants one more chance to fix what she broke in the first place", I stated.

"Fine, if that is what you wish then I will make arrangements for us. The ship I used to get here is still docked where I landed we will head out when you are ready."

"I thought you chartered one here", I questioned.

"No, after last time I figure it would be better for me to sail here myself since the captain of the ship I was on told me that he would not dock in Dristarya giving me a small boat to get the rest of the way here the first time", he said.

"I didn't know you could even steer a ship."

"I couldn't but I am a quick study", he said with a smile plaguing his face and I returned it with another.

"Well, I suggest we leave on the morrow. It will give us enough time to get our things together and head out", I said.

"Sounds good. I'll get my stuff packed then once you get yours I will load the ship and we will depart tomorrow", he stated and I nodded my head.

"There is something that needs to be addressed though", Ser Easton said.

"What do you mean", I said and he turned his head to where Aeras and the others were.

"Oh god."

"What are you going to do", he asked.

"I don't know. I can't just leave them here they are like apart of me and me them. What am I going to do?"

"Well, we may be going back to Tir Asleen but that doesn't mean you can't come back and see them when you want. Plus if I know them as I think I do then they are going to miss you as much as you are going to miss them. I don't see how you and them are ever going to be separated."

"I know I have to go back and a part of me has always known I would have to go back to Tir Asleen but-"

"But what?"

"I didn't think of how hard it was going to be to leave them or how much I was going to end up loving them", I choked up finding it hard to stop the tears welling up in my eyes. In-between the tears in my eyes I can see them flying around Dristarya and it made my heart leap. Knowing that I am going to be apart from them is breaking my heart.

"It's going to be ok just remember this isn't goodbye. It is more like I will see you later", he said and gave me a side hug.

"I promise you this isn't the end between you and them", he stated and I wiped the tears away nodding my head.

"Well, we better start getting things ready", I said and walking off to the castle taking a glimpse of Aeras and Calyx flying overhead. Knowing this would be the last time I see them for awhile is something I am having trouble comprehending or better yet coping with.

**Back in Tir Asleen (Kit's POV)

"You know I don't believe that shit", Airk states.

"What are you talking about", I asked him.

"What happened on the battlefield. The story that Boorman told King Aiden was just that as story", he said.

"Listen you don't know what happened on that field you weren't there we were and that is what happened."

"Oh really", he questioned raising an eyebrow in my direction.

"Yeah so if you will excuse me", I said making my way out of his room but before I could he blocked me from leaving.

"Your my sister I know when your bullshitting me so you can either tell me or I can go to our mother or better yet King Aiden and tell them about my suspicions. We don't keep secrets from each other we never have so tell me what really happened."

"You know Airk you are starting to sound like Y/n's brother with his threats and all. Let me give you some advice though don't threaten someone unless you have evidence of wrongdoing. As from I can see you have none only your suspicions and those who were on the battlefield will cooperate that so I suggest you stop with the empty threats", I spat and purposely knocked his soldier with mine as I went my merry way.

The fact that Airk started to question me about what happened a week ago made me nervous about whether or not others were doing the same. After all, Boorman just came up with that cover story right on the spot and if it weren't for Ser Easton providing the necessary proof to back it up. It's only a matter of time until someone cracks or King Aiden comes to his senses and realize that it was complete and utter bullshit on our part. Part of me knows that my mother didn't even believe it and if she didn't then no did.

"Hey, what's wrong", Boorman asked.

"Airk was questioning me about what happened that day and he knows something is up", I whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"He thinks we lied about the whole thing and made something up to cover up what really happened", I exclaimed capturing the attention of others. With that I dragged Boorman to the gardens and made sure that no one was there.

"That is because we did make the whole thing up. We never should have done it", Boorman stated.

"Well what did you want to do Boorman, huh? Tell everyone the truth about how Y/n came in riding on a dragon where said dragon burned the opposing army to the ground", I said.

"At least it would be the truth."

"Listen to me, I am not putting her at risk because she saved our lives and we both know it. Could you imagine what would happen if someone were to find out about this? It could be detrimental for Y/n and those dragons. She cares about them immensely and god help me if I am going to let anyone be a threat to that."

**Three Days Later (Y/n's POV)

Sailing back to Tir Asleen reminded me of the first time I left Zemira to go go there. I think I am more nervous now then I was before since now I have to face my entire family after disappearing. As I stared out to sea I started to think about Calyx and the others. Leaving them was one of the hardest things I had to do, they are my family and I love them to bits. My heart aches knowing that I am going to be a part from them having no clue when I will see them again.

When I said my goodbyes to them the day I left I could feel their sadness and they could feel mine. I couldn't stop crying leaving them there and I when I got on the ship my eyes didn't leave them until Dristarya was no longer in sight.

"Are you ok Princess", Ser Easton asked. I turned to look at him as he was steering the ship with concern etched on his face.

"No, I'm not", I said walking to stand beside him.

"I know it's hard to leave them", he stated.

"I swore my heart could not break even more than it already was but here I am being proved wrong."

"It may feel that way now Princess but you have to know this isn't goodbye", he said.

"The why does it feel like it is", I say and I made my way to the front of the ship.

When I made it to the front of the ship all I could see in front of me was what seemed to be an endless sea. It was somewhat calming along with the sea breeze making contact with my face. Out of nowhere the sun seemed to be "covered" leaving a shadow over the ship. As I looked up to the sky I was shocked by what I saw. Out of all the things I was imagining it could have been I didn't expect it to be this.

Tyrax flew right past the ship only to make his way back overhead circling the ship. The joy that crept up inside me couldn't be explained or rather expressed on how ecstatic I was to see him. His blood-red scales shimmered in the sunlight it was almost blinding.

"It seems that he couldn't be apart from you", Ser Easton shouted and I turned to him smiling.

"It seems he knew how much it hurt for me to leave them."

"Well, if Tyrax has decided to follow you then the others can't be far behind."

I smiled at his words but in the back if my mind I couldn't help but think what would happen if anyone were to find out about them. Especially if Ser Easton's words to be true that the others weren't far behind from Tyrax. If that were the case then a whole bunch of problems could arise having some serious consequences.

** I hope this chapter isn't bad I have been suffering with a really bad cold this week but I still wanted to finish this and post it.

#hazel callahan x reader #kit tanthalos x reader #willow 2022 #kit tanthalos #ruby cruz #willow fanfic

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marierg · 10 months

Text

Tender Mercy

Rated: M (18+ Youngins or easily triggered DO NOT READ)

Warnings: Violence, medical talk, strong language, mentions of blood and blood stains, mentions of depression and depressive episodes, Stress and stress responses, pent up feelings, crying, kissing and bed sharing. Yeah if you're looking for the smuts that's gonna be in the next part(s?).

A/N: I will state that the initial first part of this started out as a cathartic venting for myself after a really bad call (I drive the boo boo bus). I never meant to put it out there but it evolved over time to this little story about Kix. much Thanks to @the-rain-on-kamino as always for being my partner in crime!

Words: 5.5K... Yeah I can't do short.

Song credit: Rainbow connection by Jim Henson & Paul Williams

Don't read under the cut if ya cant handle....

Red...

So much Red....

It was so hard to get out.

You scrubbed and you scrubbed and you poured on more peroxide cleaner yet still it wouldn't go away. It seeped into the seams in the metal of the LAAT, oozing back out after you thought it had been wiped clean. It was unrelenting, never ending much like the stream of injured that you had sent back to the cruiser from the planet surface. Once the injured stopped coming and the battle won then you finally had a chance to go back yourself. Still you found yourself covered in the red that hadn't yet been cleaned from the days events. On your uniform, your bags, and every other surface that had been contaminated by these last few days. You too were contaminated, but unlike the emotionless gear around you there seemed no way to purge the stain on your heart. Gritting your teeth in anger at your failures, 17 lost because you weren't good enough... fast enough... strong enough. So here you knelt in the bloodied craft, trying to right what was in your control to correct.

17 good men gone...

Contrail clenched his jaw, “How long has she been at it?”

“Dunno, saw 'er in the medbay restocking earlier after landing.” Jepp shrugged, unsure how long their civilian medic had been scrubbing out the cabin of the craft. Both men slowly walked up, Jepp leaning on the B post of the gunship studied your expression. You were moving on instinct, not really paying attention to their presence. “Scrub that any harder the paint will peal off.”

You grunted but kept scrubbing.

“I heard the chow tonight is decent, how 'bout it?” He gestured with his head towards the direction of the mess.

Still you just wiped away the most recent clean spot and moved to the next red stain in the cabin.

The two pilots glanced at one another unsure what to do. If it was one of their brothers this wouldn't be a discussion, marching them to the med bay by force if necessary. Fortunately neither man needed to dwell on it much further, the familiar shape of their CMO came into the hangar.

“I've got her boys, you can head out.”

Kix held the restocked bags watching you work, waiting till the others were gone and the hangar empty again to move closer. He knew there was no talking to you right now, he was much the same way after missions. It was simply the last thing to do to finish out the day, you cleaned the gear and your craft to leave it ready at a moments notice. All medics did this, but it was more than for protocol. It was meditative, reflective, a means to try to make sense of the mission that had just been survived.

You glanced briefly at Kix as he gloved up. He grabbed a towel and a brush, taking the spot next to yours to try to finish the job. He didn't speak, there was no need to. The two of you often worked like this in the field, simply knowing what supply to throw to the other or even knowing when the other needed help within the vast sea of patients. Bandaging, medicating, triaging and sending to transport trooper after trooper. Finally the two of you stepped off of the craft, satisfied with the job and replacing the aid bags.

“It wasn't your fault.” Kix was the first to break the quiet, keeping a calm tone. You had that look that some of his older brothers had, one that even he had from time to time. You were standing at the bay slop sink scrubbing your hands raw even though the gloves had kept you clean. Moving to your side he tried to turn your shoulder only to have you jerk away. “Y/n, it wasn't your fault...”

“Then why did they die? We did everything right, So why?” It was a whisper but still it echoed off the walls.

“We can't always save them, try as we might we can't. And there are always more troopers that need our help.” Kix carefully moved towards you, not yet attempting contact again. “We saved more than we lost, that's a victory.”

Your jaw fixed, gritting out the words. “Some would argue that.”

“107 others would agree with me. General Skywalker and General Kenobi would tell you the same.” Kix watched the despair and frustration fill your eyes, needing to place the blame for those losses somewhere. This mission had been particularly brutal, the planet itself was trying to kill them as much as the Separatists. The two of you had been injured, still you had kept working not giving a kark for the shrapnel that had peppered you. Days without sleep or food and very little water, all this and you didn't even have to be there at all. You had volunteered to go, you had chosen to help and heal those who were never given that option. “Y/n, you gave more than anyone could have and that means more to us clones than you know.”

You didn't want to cry, especially not in front of Kix. He was always so brave and calm, unflappable some would say. He never cried and of all people he was the one entitled... they were his brothers after all. But they were also your friends, your shipmates. Men whom you lived, ate and fought alongside. You didn't flinch back this time when his gentle hand squeezed your shoulder, nor did you pull away when he brought you into a hug. You didn't want to cry, but since when in this war did anyone get what they wanted. “Why... w-why Kix?”

Kix held you, gently soothing a hand on your head. How many times had he wondered the same thing, how many times had he begged the Maker to let him save just one more of his Vode? He could feel your wracking sobs against his plate less chest and wished he could take away your pain along with his own. Your sweet soul didn't deserve any of this and yet he was so deeply grateful for your presence. Leaning down to the top of your head, Kix breathed in deep before laying his cheek to your crown. “I wish I knew Sarad.”

Kix stayed closer to you after that, not that he hadn't before. He would show up for shift with an extra breakfast roll or make a smart remark during briefing trying to get you to laugh. He made you come out of your dark feelings and fears, always there even if in companionable silence listening to you ramble. As time past you started to wonder what if it could be more, what if there was more to this feeling?

You were attracted to the man, oh Maker were you attracted to him, but what if he didn't feel the same? Or what if he did? You always shook those thoughts away quickly, it wouldn't be professional and worse you might loose what you did have. So instead you satisfied yourself with reciprocating his care and friendship. Indulging in a hug, sharing your care package treats, or just squeezing his hand when he looked unhappy. Hells one time you grabbed a bedpan and a crutch to sing and dance till he fell out of the chair laughing. It was the little things here and there, but hopefully it conveyed a portion of what you felt.

It was a few months after that mission when you all got sent through the grinder again. Kix had left to go ahead with a small team while you remained back with most of Torrent. Fives and Jesse were telling you another tall tale when the ground violently shook at the LZ. There was no thinking involved, you yelled for Jepp to get the bird in the air and soon located the missing men. It had been a hairy extraction, you lost two en route back to the base. The mission continued but something had changed, Kix was different.

He was quieter than normal, solemn. After landing back on the ship he just took the bags and left to restock, no acknowledgment of your presence or offer to help after handing off the wounded. Kix didn't show up for debriefing with the command staff and half the squad didn't know where he'd gone. When you checked the bay the bird was clean and the bags returned and still no Kix. As time ticked by the claws of dread slowly wound their way around your heart and throat till it hurt to breathe.

It finally dawned on you to scan the ship for his ID chip. You ran the corridors, bumping into more than a few troopers, entering the small supply closet off of the med bay. Kix was there just quietly staring into the dark shelves blankly. He still had his armor on, bloodstained and muddied. The normally rock steady medic, your best friend, was so deep in his pain that he didn't even notice when you started talking.

“Kix I been looking for you.”

Nothing, not a blink or even a flinch. Just blankly staring.

“How about letting a pretty girl get you a Kaf, what do you say?”

A grunt this time.

You were really starting to worry now, this was bad as you had ever seen one of the men. When they got this bad sometimes the troopers were sent back to Kamino, none of them ever came back the same... if they came back. The very though sent shudders down your spine, no you wouldn't let that happen to him.

“Kix, you're gonna come with me okay. We're going to go somewhere quiet so you can rest.” When his head slowly turned you saw the dried tear trails. Swallowing down your emotions and giving him a soft smile as you offered a hand, you begged he would accept. “please take my hand.”

Trembling fingers met yours, grasping tight. His only reply was a nod, but that was enough for now.

It was a slow, robotic walk back to your room. You decided that was a better option than to let any of the brass see him like this. You figured that if you watched Kix close you might be able to cover for him till this wore off. You helped to remove his armor and gave him a push to the fresher, hoping the hot water could offer him some relief. By the time you returned with fresh blacks, bless the supply boys, he sat on the edge of the bed looking lost but in fairer condition than before.

“I'm... Y/n... Sarad...” His jaw continued to move but no sound came out. Mechanically he dressed and then sat once more, still so very lost. Why was he still there? That droid should have killed him, why did he get to live when Ace and Taps were gone? They were good troopers...

“Shh shh, it's ok, you rest now.�� Pulling back the covers you eased him onto the mattress, tucking him in. You propped up with the unfinished reports on the floor, holding his hand with a small squeeze before settling in, “Sleep Kix, you're safe here, I promise.”

“Thank you Y/n.”

That was how the next night went as well, you on the floor and Kix in the bed though he had tried to fight you on it. The third night he refused until you had agreed to also sit up in the bed. When he had finally drifted off it was with his head in your lap as you stroked gently through the short buzz trim on his head. You hummed an old song from your childhood in time to your caressing, hoping to soothe and fight away the nightmares. When he did stir with a whimper you'd start the song again.

Just a little longer you figured at least till he didn't cry in the night. Just a while more till he would be fine sleeping without you soothing him; your time was precious and finite and that was how it had to be. Through those nights you had answered every call and attended every briefing, making the excuse that Kix was tending to the men or seeing to requisitions. Every once in a while you thought there might have been a glint in Rex's eye. If the Captain suspected, he never said anything.

The unit made it back to Couriscant for some well earned shore leave and at last you were able to let your guard down. Kix had been able to sleep through the night a few rotations before and had insisted he would be fine returning to the barracks. You were relieved and saddened. Given the many missions and cramped quarters you decided to take an old friend up on a longstanding offer. They had a place that was set up as a short stay vacation apartment and had cleared the entire leave time for your use. Who knew, maybe a few days on terra firma would help your own aches and pains. As you got unpacked and tossed groceries in the fridge there was a com from the Captain, the text simply read, “79's come quick.”

Pulling up on your speeder bike there were your boys in blue bloodied and shouting as a bunch from the 808th Ordinance corp were pulling up stakes. Grimacing you jogged over, “What the heck guys?”

“Those Di'kuts started it, we simply cleaned the floor with them,” Hardcase giggled.

Rex and Jesse were restraining a few troopers, one with a set of all too familiar colored shoulder bells. Rex pulled Kix along, lecturing him in Mando'a until both of their eyes met your very tired ones. Crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow you sighed. “Well lets get you cleaned up.”

Once the last of the bandages were placed and the other company of troopers out of sight, Rex pulled you to the side. The Captain had always been good to you, hell he treated you like one of the boys, the grim look on his face though was purely marshal in appearance. Crossing his arms Rex leveled with you, “Sargent I need a straight answer from you, not that osik from the last few days.”

Flexing nervously under that stare you tried not to crack, “What answer is that Captain?”

“Kix hasn't been himself.”

“He's been tired is all...”

“No it's not.” The Captain leveled his best harsh look at you. “So I'm going to ask you again.”

Your body was twitching from the nerves of the last week, stars knew how scared you felt. “I can't...”

“Why not?”

Damn your body for betraying you. The stress of the previous days, all those fears crashing under Rex's scrutiny. You sniffled and tried to get a grip, croaking out the next answer to Rex. “Cause you'll send him back to Kamino.”

“What?”

“They'll mess up his brain and he won't be Kix anymore.” You started to really shake then, dam bursting tears rolling down your face.

“Hey hey hey, come here now.” Rex's facade instantly crumbled, gently wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He had to give you credit, keeping cool for this long poor little mite. “That is not going to happen. The last thing I want is for Kix to be in pain so we need to help him. I promise that he won't get sent back to Kamino, just tell me how I can help.”

“I don't know, he was doing ok for a bit.” You released a frustrated breath & wiped the tears away. Glancing at the medic who was sitting on a planter with Fives and Hardcase your heart clinched again. “What set him off anyway?”

“Wasn't there when it started, but Jesse said that the 808 were making some noise. Something about us having a lot of shinies and civies around every time we get back planet side.” Rex gritted his teeth, refraining from telling you the horrible things that were really said, especially the part they said about you.

Your face turned red at the implications, temper rising in indignation. Taking another look at your Captain you pressed further while resisting the urge to use some of your troopers favorite slang. “Those... Oh if I get my hands on...Grrrr.”

Rex couldn't help a small smirk given that you had all the furry of a loth cat and were just as adorable. “Easy there.”

Letting out a huff you tried to stay focused on the task at hand, “What do you think we should do?”

Rex crossed his arms, thinking, “Well for one I don't want him anywhere near those di'kuts, so going back to the barracks is out”

“Agreed,” Sighing heavily you tried to think of a solution, “But where can he go?”

Rex always considered himself a fair judge of character. He knew Kix harbored more than just affection for you. Hell anyone could see how Kix tended to gravitate to you like a planet obits a sun. Rex also surmised that you harbored deep feelings for his brother. Having seen you sing or dance, anything to get Kix to smile. “I may have an idea.”

“I'm in.”

Rex knew of course that you had smuggled his CMO back to your bunk on board the ship. He was also aware that your movements and duties to cover both jobs had precluded any possibility that either of you had done anything non regulation. Not that he would blame either for trying to find a little happiness, rare as it was. Maybe all that the two needed was a little nudge and perhaps that was what would bring his brother back. “I don't mean to impose Y/n, but aren't you staying off base this leave?”

“Yeah,” Seeing Rex raise his eyebrows and shrug you realized what he was trying not to say aloud. Under more normal circumstances Kix going back to your place would have been exciting, but right now all you felt was cement churning in your guts. Looking at those golden eyes your head nodded in agreement.

“Good, com if you need anything.” Rex hoped that he was right about this. As his general would so often say, sometimes you have to follow your instincts and pray the Force it's correct. Rex turned to you, one more time. “You know it's not everyone who gets a nickname Y/n... even rarer for one in Mando'a. But I suppose that you knew that.”

Kix was in his own world, he vaguely remembers the few stops that were made before walking into the apartment. He recalled you sitting him on the couch with a movie after making him shower and change into the comfortable clothing you had acquired for him. It was loose and soft against his skin, he wondered if all civilian clothing was like this. He felt relaxed and unrestricted, he felt free.

Kix had savored eating the dinner you had cooked and just sitting at the table, no reports or place to be. He wondered if all civilians did this, just sitting and enjoying their meals without a thought to the world outside. All evening you talked about your friends, life happening outside the GAR, things that had happened long ago when you were a youngling. You chatted all the time about things, sometimes you sang or hummed, but rarely was it quiet when you were around.

His Sarad, a thing of beauty in the midst of the ciaos. Kix remembers the day he gave you the nickname. While waiting for casualties he had suddenly felt a ring of flowers placed on his head. You had giggled and started talking about things he could not grasp: childhood games, playing, happiness. Then the wounded had come and you had remained calm. You talked to the men, sang them your silly songs to put them at ease, and through it all you smiled. You were smiling at him again, asking if he wanted to watch another holo, but that wasn't what drew his attention. It was the dark circles under your bright eyes, it was that your smile didn't extend the way it normally would.

“Kiiiiix? Hello... command to Kix... you there?” Oh kriff the man finally starting to talk with you again and now he was staring right at you but not responding. “So is that a no to the holo?”

Kix stood, walking over and pulling you up and out of the chair. He saw your eyes widen, the hitch in your breathing, flush creeping across your cheeks. Gently he wrapped his arms around you and felt as your soft form molded against him.

Holy Maker stars above... Well this was new, “Kix?”

“Ner Sarad, dral runi.” He raised a hand to cup your cheek, thumb stroking against the downy surface.

“You should probably teach me what those fancy words you're using mean,” it came out a nervous laugh, “they sound so pretty.”

Kix's mouth turned up a bit, you were so sweet. “Dral means bright and runi is hard to explain. It's what makes a person, that which goes on even after death.”

“A person's soul.” Your heart raced, eyes half lidded from the soft caress and his words. Taking a deep, fortifying breath you dared a glimpse of his warm eyes. Amber hues shot with flecks of darker brown studying you in kind. “Kix, why did you get so mad? I don't think I've ever seen you get in a fight.”

“They said something unkind about my brothers. And you.”

“Me?” Swallowing hard you ducked your head to quell the butterflies swarming. Heat was creeping into your body the longer Kix held you, but you needed to figure out what was going on with him, how to help him. “It doesn't matter, you could have ended up in the brig or worse. You know better than anyone what happens when...”

“I couldn't let them call you...”

“I don't care,” Damn your voice for trembling. “Words can't hurt me, whatever it was it doesn't matter.”

“Y/n...”

“No I don't care what they said! I KRIFFING CARE ABOUT YOU!” The panic that you thought had subsided roared back with a vengeance. You were scared as hell for him and now scared as hell how he would react to your confession. He didn't balk or walk away, instead Kix drew you closer as you crumpled into his shoulder. “I don't want anything to happen to you. You can't ... damn it Kix I'm not worth it! I want you to be safe, I don't want you to get arrested or court marshaled or worse. Please!”

“You're worth it to me.” He said it through gritted teeth, as though your words had cut him to the bone. “You are worth everything to me, Y/n.”

“Not if it means they...” The grip you had on him tightened, words coming out a whisper as if speaking them was something taboo. “Not if it means they take you away.”

“Shh I'm sorry Sarad. No more fights I promise.” He'd stop the planet turning if it meant your tears would dry. Kix began to sway with you in his arms, singing the same song that you had used to lull him to rest these past days. Not that he could sing, but Kix tried to keep the tune even. “Who said that every wish would be heard and answered when wished on the morning star?”

“Somebody thought of it (sniff) and someone believed it...”

“and look what it's done so far,” There was a soft smile tugging the corners of his lips as your head turned to look up at him. Your nose was pink and your eyes puffy, but you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen. “What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing and what do we think we might see?”

There he was, you saw the minute the light returned to his eyes. You couldn't help a small sigh as he pressed your foreheads together while you finished together. “Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection. The lovers, the dreamers and me.”

“Sarad don't cry, not for me, please.”

“Can't help it I'm a crier, I cry at everything,” Sniffling again you took a steady deep breath. “But I'll try.”

His thumbs still absently stroked at the apple of your cheek, trying to stem the tide. Kix felt slender fingers gently lay on the side of his face and neck, his eyes closed in ecstasy. How he wished he had said something far sooner, when his mind wasn't tattered at the seams. Yet here you stood unafraid, holding him. “What is it?"

“Don't shut me out.” Stars what was this spell and how could you keep it from breaking? You had him back, please Maker don't let him slip away again. “Please Kix tell me what to do, I want to help.”

“You are ner Sarad, you always do.”

“Kix...” Closing your eyes you concentrated on the sound of his voice as he began to sing again. His baritone could put you at ease, it could make your heart race, but right now it was a grounding tether soothing your weary nerves. Snaking your arms around his neck you let him lead as your bodies gently rocked in slow circles.

“Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices? I've heard you calling my name...” Kix tilted his head to nuzzle his nose lightly on yours, drawing a true grin out for the first time in days. “Is this the sweet sound that calls the young troopers, your voice may be one and the same...”

Moving to close the hairs breath distance, you pressed the softest of kisses to his lips. Kix tilted your face to look up at him, using his thumb to brush at the plump flesh of your lower lip and you kissed the pad of the digit just as gently. Then your eyes went wide, a blush crossing your cheeks. “I'm sorry, I should have asked if it was ok to kiss you. Are you ok? Is this ok? Did I...”

“Sarad, you may kiss me as much as you wish.” He chuckled in his throat, pressing a finger to your lips effectively pausing your nervous babble. “Because I will give you as many as I can... and so much more.”

Dipping his head Kix laid claim to you, slow and thorough in his exploration. He wanted to memorize the pattern of your lips as they pressed to his, their texture and taste. Using his thumb to press your jaw open his tongue made a tentative sweep into the warmth of your mouth, tongues tangling the less timid you became and the more he beckoned. Kix's heart raced with every little moan and sigh you gave as he continued his ministrations. Maker he wanted more of you, to feel your soft skin under his hands, to see what you looked like out of that ridiculous regulation braid. He pulled at the tie in your hair to watch the soft filaments fall to frame your face. A flower in bloom.

Kix crouched down and picked you up,grinning at your squeek of surprise even as your legs wrapped around his hips. You didn't protest, nor cry, just held tighter as he carried you to the bedroom. Setting you down on the soft mattress he sat next to you feeling uncertain. He knew what he wanted, what he so ached to do to show just how much he felt. He stroked his fingers near where exhaustion sullied your bright face and knew that was meant for another night. Still he so yearned to show you how he felt, to reward your courage and care as well. “Y/n you're so good to me, ner kotep cyar'ika.”

“Oh Kix,” Maker you couldn't believe that you finally had the man in your bedroom, but you couldn't bring yourself to go further than kissing. He was vulnerable and you hated to think he may regret any decisions tonight because of that. Above all else you had to do right by him because at the end of the night he was still your friend. Cradling his face you kissed his forehead before whispering softly in his ear. “let's get some rest and in the morning we'll figure things out.”

“Sleep well Y/n, I'll be here when you wake up.” There was a small pang of disappointed, but he would let you sleep for a week or more if it gave you peace. Brushing the hair away from your face Kix started to move away until he felt you holding tighter to him. “Sarad?”

“Would you stay with me?” Nerves getting the better of you, biting the corner of your mouth. “I'll sleep better if you're here.”

His face softened even more, “Are you sure?”

“Only if you want to,” You laid back, ducking your head into the plush pillows to half hide, “You make me feel safe and...”

He was trying to understand you through the muffling of the pillow, a half grin on his face. “And?”

“I want you feel safe with me too.”

Kix couldn't resist or say no to you and frankly he had never slept so well as when he had lain in your quarters. Removing his top and climbing in to settle on his back, Kix snugged you into the crook of his arm. You cuddled in further placing your head on his chest so that his heartbeat was right under your cheek, steady and constant. He caressed your shoulder and back while playing with the fingers of the hand on his torso. It was such an intimate position.

“Kix what does Sarad mean?”

In for a credit, in for a kilo. He hummed, placing a kiss to your forehead, “Flower.”

“Why do you call me flower?”

“Do you know what the first thing I saw when I left Kamino was y/n?” The words rumbled from his chest, he felt as your head shook. “I was sent as a replacement to meet with the 501st, but they were on this little forest moon. When the gangplank lowered all I could see was this field of little flowers, I'd never seen one before.”

You smiled waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I thought that they must be the most beautiful things in the galaxy.” He tilted your chin to look at him, “Until you waltzed into the med bay and I knew I had been mistaken.”

Your cheeks warmed as a blush spread over your face.

“Sleep ner mesh'la sarad,” Kix tucked the comforter more snugly around your shoulders, “we can talk more in the morning.”

Tags: @rain-on-kamino

#star wars #clone wars #star wars the clone wars #clone medic kix #clone medic kix x reader #Clone medic Kix Smut #kix x reader #Kix Smut #clone thirsting

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sneakyparsnipslicer · 7 months

Text

A New Lease On Life

Have you ever felt like being yourself limits you in a way? Like being born to a particular family or culture limits your potential and often how the world views you?

My name is Dr. Kurpreet Singh. I'm 27, single and longing for a life other than my own.

It's a well-known fact that Indian culture gives little freedom to the children. Great expectations from parents, often using the success to flaunt in others' faces. Despite being a well-studied and successful man of medicine, I must be causing my mother and father a great deal of disappointment. They keep setting me up for arranged marriages, but I know it's all for their gain, and whilst I've been introduced to some absolutely beautiful women, they're not exactly what I'm looking for.

During my education, I was envious of the other boys, they could laze about, talk anything they'd like, date anyone they'd like. My life was pre-determined, focus on my studies, ace every test. I love my parents, but the life they forced upon me doesn't exactly offer the freedoms that many of my peers take for granted. It seems clear to me my life was mapped out in their eyes even from conception; create a child prodigy, marry him into a wealthy family, have some beautiful children, die securing a promising future for their grandchildren. A noble plan I guess, but what about what I want?

It took some persuasion, but I was able to move from my parents' home into my own flat. My mother of course always hit with the obvious comments. 'Why are you settling for a flat? You need a mortgage for raising your family!' 'A single bed? No, you need a big bed to share with the right lady when you find her!' 'I don't like this place, too small. Where is the family supposed to sit for Diwali?' 'This is not a nice neighbourhood. You don't know anyone on your street. What you need is a good community, please come back and live with us Kurpreet, you'll be happier!'

Honestly she's not been happy with my flat since Day 1, saying I need to change this and that, chastising me on finding the slightest speck of dust. At least she never stays. When I'm alone, that's when I truly feel free of the pressure and expectations I have had placed on me.

Now, in the time I've had in my flat, I've been able to enjoy all kinds of freedoms, particularly conducting my own research into arcane topics. It's crazy to think that some things we dream of can infact be reality, through the right methods of course. My researches led me to discovering the likes of body possession and bodysuits, methods to change a person's entire likeness! There were stories of people documenting their transformations from their old bodies into new ones and I wondered if I could do the same. Through a few contacts I was able to obtain a small glass container of powder.

To anyone it looked like some kind of seasoning, it really wouldn't have looked to out of place on a spice rack. According to my supplier, it was a powder that numbed the nerves and extracted the soul. More or less, anyone I sprinkled the powder on would become a bodysuit, and I'd also be able to undergo a transformation much like the stories I'd become enamoured by. I kept the container on me, you never know when I might find the right person to become the vessel I need. Of course I went about my usual life at the local clinic as the kindly Dr. Singh, but beneath the surface, an almost inhuman hunger was growing inside me.

It happened on one evening, as I drove home from the clinic, I parked my car in my usual spot in the carpark and made my way towards my flat's front door. Even as I locked my car door I could hear people talking from the direction of my door. Sounded like a bunch of rowdy men. I got my briefcase out of my car's boot, cautiously pocketing my glass container as a precaution. 'I'm just going into my flat' I told myself under my breath. Taking a deep breath I began to make my way to my door. The voices seemed to be sluggishly singing some chant. Maybe they were on their way back from a pub after a football match. I turned the corner and saw four men in tracksuits sitting on the steps leading up to my door, beer cans littered all over the floor. I stopped in my tracks looking slack-jawed at the sight.

'Oi, the fuck you looking at?' demanded one of them when he noticed me looking. The rest stopped singing and turned their attention on me. I cleared my throat. 'Pardon me, Gentlemen. Could I possibly get to my front door?' I asked politely. It took a moment then they started laughing. 'Did you boys get any of that?' asked the one closest to my door. 'Nah man, all I heard was 'Oh deary, deary me!'' said another one imitating an Indian accent. 'Welcome to my Kwik-E-Mart, please come again!' said the one that addressed me at first, and they all broke into outrageous laughter. I wasn't about to let a bunch of racists make me lose my cool. 'Look, you're in my doorway, haven't you all got somewhere better to be?' I demanded sternly, folding my arms. It was at that point the one who hadn't said a word yet stood up. He glared at me and began to walk menacingly over. He was a fair bit taller than I am, quite bulky too. I backed away a few steps, subtley reaching for my little glass container. 'Why don't you fuck off back to India, Curry-In-A-Hurry?' asked the man, staring me down. The other men started laughing again. I mustered up my courage, removing the cork behind my back. 'I was born here in England, my family's been living here two generations' I replied smartly, looking him in the eyes. The man lifted his head from my breathing space, seemingly impressed. 'Well look at that boys, guess he's one of us!' he shouted, turning to the others. I was stunned. 'What, really?' I asked curiously. 'Nah, fuck off!' he said, turning back and aiming a punch at me. I anticipated this and ducked to the side, spraying the contents of the container in his face. He coughed and shook his head, wiping the powder out of his eyes. 'You dirty little…little…' he slurred, gradually losing consciousness and slumping down on the ground. His friends looked on shocked. 'Terry?' asked one of them, getting up to get a better look. 'Guess your friend has had too much to drink' I said shrugging. 'Nah nah nah, you threw something on him!' cried another one, standing up and pointing accusingly at me. The first one approached Terry's body and shook his shoulder. Terry's whole body wobbled like jelly. 'Shit, you've killed him!' he said, looking at me. At this point I looked darkly into his eyes. 'You wanna take your chances with me or are you gonna go?' I asked calmly. The guy shook his head, inching along the wall. 'Fuck no! Let's get away from this Voodoo creep!' he yelled staggering off. The other two ran off after him, leaving me and Terry alone. I gave his body a little kick with my boot, then lifted his arm up, which flopped back down as I let go. 'Well then Terry, looks like your check-up's due!' I chuckled, unlocking my front door and hoisting him over my right shoulder.

Getting into my living room, I placed Terry on my sofa and placed my belongings on the counter to the side. Getting a better look at the man, he looked to be roughly the same age as me, short brown hair, clean-shaven. Dare I say kinda cute. I removed his clothes to get a better look at what was on offer, I was met with the sight of some nice biceps and muscles, a very nice chest and abs. I had no doubt this guy probably could have actually knocked me out if he'd had a decent shot. 'Nice body Terry! Shame about your awful mouth and problematic mind' I said tutting condescendingly. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and took a good, long look at myself. Slim built, soft black hair, a tidy goatee and the glasses I always wore. Not bad, but there was room for improvement. It occurred to me this might just be the last time I see my face like this, but I was ready to give it all up. Staring at myself I began to unbutton my shirt, revealing my flat chest and stomach, my skinny arms and slightly hairy chest. I began to smile, this was like a dream come true. I undid my belt, unlaced my boots, pulled off my trousers, socks and boxers and stood there fully nude. I looked at myself one last time and nodded, turning my attention to Terry. I pulled him off the sofa and placed him carefully on the rug. Nervously, I prised open his mouth, the stretching sound of elastic filling the room. My cock twitched and a grin spread across my face as I looked down into the darkness within his body. It was time.

I began by placing my right foot into his mouth, pushing down my foot and shin began to disappear past his lips. I thought it best to sit down for this, so I did just that. Placing my left foot inside, the rubbery squeaking continued as I pushed my legs down, Terry's mouth seemingly consuming my kneecaps and upper legs. Looking further down his body, I could see his own legs were swelling and darkening slightly, going from pale white a delightful tan. I could only imagine what the outcome was going to look like and my dick began to harden in delight. I began to move my thighs inside, I took care to push my erectifying penis into Terry's mouth too, seeing it further down stretching his length out and amazingly restoring my foreskin. I'd been circumcised as a child, so I'd never really known what it was like to have an uncut cock, but I guess that was going to be something for me to explore in good time. Hands on the floor, I began to slide my belly and chest into the mouth, seeing them firm up and darken Terry's body, I moved my arms inside too and they filled out his arms and hands too. I let my new hands explore my body, this was nice. Like REALLY nice. I stood up and walked over to the mirror, checking it out. Abs, ass, I had it all going on. I bit my lip and locked eyes with my reflection. My old face atop this new body looked back. I took off my glasses and put them on the counter, and through blurred vision I matched up Terry's lower jaw with my own and pulled his head over mine. I could feel my face contorting as I stood there for a moment, eyes shut, letting the transformation finish. I felt my face and hair, with one hesitant breath I opened my eyes. My new reflection looked back at me, clear as day. Terry must have had good eyesight, I could kiss those glasses goodbye. My black hair was still there, my goatee had survived the transformation too. I looked good, Terry and I had created one gorgeous guy. I gave my new cock a playful tug with my left hand and my new ass a squeeze with the right. I could finally leave my old life behind and enjoy any man I wanted, be anything I wanted. Ruffling up my hair and massaging my biceps I remembered, I had kept an outfit aside for this occasion. I hurried to my bedroom and flung open the doors, searching through my coat hangers I found it; a plaid shirt, skinny jeans with chains on them, a G-string to perk up everything on offer, and a leather harness, for later. I'd see about officially leaving the flat tomorrow, for tonight I'm hitting every gay bar in town and getting me some long-desired action. Dr. Kurpreet was gone, any remnants are getting fucked out tonight. From here on out, I am Hari, a cute guy in a big town with big dreams of being the most lustful male stripper around!

#transformation #bodysuit #gay

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satubby · 11 months

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Hello! How are you? I love your account you earned one more followers! I wanted to make a request if it is not too much to ask. Can you be sfw and nsfw headcanons (in a romantic relationship) with Makima in the male version of her? please! I really would like you to attend to my request and I hope you have a good day.

[Note: Am I dreaming? Why if that's the case... don't wake me up, AHHHH!!!! ♡♡♡ Thanks for asking, I rarely (ever) get this and I'm grateful. I hope you like what I wrote because I was lazy to finish the drawing that I had originally planned. I leave you a chibi that I did in the genshin impact style LMAO]

Well it depends on where you are in your relationship. Unlike Makima, Makime is more openly seductive and is not afraid to use his charm, he is very self-centered about it.

Since I'm based on my fanfic, Makime is your boss in the fourth section of public security and you usually see him but try to stay out of it while hanging out with the boys.

Since you asked for headcanons, I'll go two ways, first I'll do the SFW and then the NSFW because I want to dedicate more time to that one since I suck writing intimate acts.

Tokens of appreciation:

Makime would show her appreciation in a peculiar and somewhat twisted way at worst. He could offer eloquent compliments and sweet flattery, but always with a hidden agenda. His words may be framed in lies and manipulations, it is likely that he seeks to obtain something in return, for example... Your entire disposition and love for him.

If you are at the beginning of the relationship, he would seek to attract you with simple gifts that you would not expect from him, for example: Roses, money or bonuses from your salary. Well, he knows you don't trust him.

If you are already more confident, he could show his appreciation through such simple acts as leaving you with less workload or pairing you up with him so you don't endanger yourself on more important missions [Which is more of an excuse to keep an eye on you and silently study you in case that he still did not declare his love openly]. He would be constantly watching over you, making sure you were safe and removing any perceived threats [Whether he was actually dangerous to you or just out of jealousy].

Makime might offer quirky and unique gifts that reflect her knowledge of your likes and interests. However, these gifts could be more manipulative than genuine intent. Sometimes just looking for a reaction from you, whether positive or not, he just wants you to pay attention.

You are really confused by their actions, sometimes you feel compelled to accept their gifts, good or bad.

Romance type:

The romance with Makime would be an emotional roller coaster. Spending time with him could be exciting and exciting, but also dangerous and exhausting. His cunning and manipulative personality would create an intense dynamic, full of mind games at the worst. Well, since I'm basing myself on the events of my Fanfic: A peach between apples, you constantly doubt the intentions of the red-haired demon since you know its nature from its original version, Makima.

Makime would seek to maintain absolute control in the relationship, although he would secretly like to have sweet moments without forcing you to participate in them, but it will only happen when he is sure that you will not let him. He can be possessive and jealous, showing his darker side if he feels you are slipping out of his control or if you have been a brat to him.

The romance with Makime, as I said, is quite nuanced and since he doesn't know the feeling of human-style love, he grew up in isolation [I guess?] He could make you feel uncomfortable without meaning to but he's still a son of a bitch, so he doesn't care about your reactions a lot, he just wants to see you nervous and/or any other emotion, you're interesting.

He would always be hiding parts of himself and revealing little clues as the relationship progresses or that he already has the certainty that you will not betray him, that you will be his completely. These secrets and gradual revelations could lead to a complicated and ambiguous emotional connection since you don't fully understand their actions.

At times Makime can be cold and insensitive to your feelings, but when he's jealous or vulnerable, he drops his cunning and prideful facade, to be twistedly soft on you. Their gifts in these cases would be more intimate, giving you things that they know you like. In his strange and sadistic way, he gives you someone's heart or kills in front of you, which leaves you quite traumatized because it is not pretty to see someone literally explode or see how their insides turn inside out (that is, the skin and organs come out of the inside ). These cases only occur when he is in a bad mood or wants to punish you.

Types of names and nicknames that Makime uses with you:

Makime's nicknames towards you influence his impressions, at the beginning of meeting you she would call you little employee or lamb, because in his eyes you look like a nervous lamb in front of its predator.

As they are already closer or in a relationship that is not [clearly if] forced, he would call you: Little doll, little rabbit or puppy.

In cases where he is in a bad mood, he usually uses demeaning names like: Pet, my prize, Dumb human or needy bitch [but these last names are more in the NSFW context].

Particularly when he is feeling most intimate and vulnerable, he often calls you my treasure, love (if not very creative) angel or princess.

You walked the streets of Tokyo, checking your makeup and everything. Makime had summoned you for something, with the control demon you never knew what he would do next or even his intentions towards you. You saw makime sitting down having a coffee, you approached him by sitting on it and adjusting the wrinkles in your clothes.

"Makime-san.... Did you need me for something? Normally I don't expect you to invite me to these types of places without it being for celebration or work reasons, your invitation and interest in me really surprises me" You said something nervous but trying to hide your discomfort or worst case scenario, those many doubts that run in your mind about this situation.

Makime looked at his glass of espresso as if it were interesting, only making you more uncomfortable at his non-response. Then he smiled widely and looked at you, what you didn't know is that this was just an excuse to spend time with you. He could practically see you anywhere and yet he preferred moments like these even if they weren't (if they are) forced. But he just wants alone time without those jerks following you around like roaches attached to food.

The redhead comes out of his thoughts about Aki, Powa and Denji turning to you again looking at you with an amused and calm smile while those piercing golden eyes follow your movements from head to toe, scrutinizing you.

"Sure... *Sigh*, you're kind of right, I invited you for a coffee, there's no problem with that... so just relax and don't try to see the devil's horn in everything, okay?" Here a sip of his coffee, while he smiles, that fucking smile that just gets on your nerves, you notice that he gives you an aura of great power when he sits near you, you start to wonder if there is something else he wants.

You don't want to be by his side, you hate even looking at him because you feel constantly violated and exposed, you hate the feeling and the bastard knows it, he enjoys getting nervous like you can't imagine.

"Makime-san, if you only called me for this I see no point in staying..." You were getting hysterical, you wanted to hit him even if it meant getting killed in the process, you still got up bowing and starting to leave. Yeah If you stayed longer, you wouldn't know whether to hit them out of irritation or the simple fact of wasting your time. Damn, you never understood their actions and that frustrates you, it's like a game of egos between tug and pull.

It wasn't until hands bigger than your arm grabbed you tightly, giving you a sharp twist, making you collide with the redhead's chest. Your face pressed against his chest, feeling the beating of his heart, although thinking about it more thoroughly you didn't know if it was just the sound he imitated to avoid raising suspicions. The breath on the helix¹ of your ear as you inevitably turned red. Instinctively you wanted to push him but he held you tighter in his arms as he whispered your name loving that blush coming from you.

You see him with a calm look, not knowing that you are telling him what he wants to hear: Those beats in your chest indicating that he was the cause of these... No one else and that puts him in a better mood.

With calm eyes, he looks at your lips and back into your eyes, he comes a little closer to you, caresses your cheek tenderly and looks at you with a more intense look. This only makes the knot in your stomach that has been building up for these few minutes increase and become more tangled like the spaghetti you ate yesterday for dinner.

"I just want to see you by my side. Isn't that enough for you?" He says with a sweet and seductive voice, he smiles a little at you, but his golden eyes look at you intensely with mixed emotions. You know that everything has an intention behind it and you don't want to give in to his whims.... But God!!, how you wanted to keep looking and admit that despite being a son of a bitch and a cunning manipulator, he's damn attractive.

You continued to stare at Makime, trying to figure out his true intentions. You felt a mixture of tension and longing inside of you, fighting against your own contradictory feelings. His closeness and his caresses disturbed you, but at the same time they attracted you in a way that you could not help.

"I don't know if that's enough for me," you replied with a shaky voice, trying to keep your guard up. "There are still many things I don't understand about you, Makime-san. I can't just get carried away by your sweet words and gestures. I don't trust you completely and we barely speak to each other."

He looks at you with a 'kind' smile on his lips and sees that his eyes become duller than usual, you avoid looking at them any longer with an insecure look, he knows you're nervous but you don't let him see everything.

"Trust takes time, you will give it to me sooner or later, you will have no other choice"

His gaze only pierces yours and his eyes remain that hypnotic golden color with those rings in them, hypnotizing you and he begins to caress your thigh with his hand.

Then as if something bewitched both of them, their lips slowly approached and he kisses your lips, nibbles your tongue and lips. Loving every inch of your mouth, your mind at this point is blurry and so you let yourself go.

[Sorry if I don't put the NSFW content yet, but I need to write that part properly and since I have a knot in my head, I need to organize myself with my creative ideas. I hope you liked it and I'm sorry if there are mistakes in the pronouns, my understanding of English is the same as a 3 year old :P]

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mariaofdoranelle · 1 year

Text

Look at Us Now — Ch. 3

Fic Masterlist

Sorry I ghosted last week! This chapter is (unintentionally) twice the usual size, though, so I’m forgiving myself. It’s a bit of a rollercoaster, just remember that it’ll get worse before it gets better.

Warnings: NSFW, cursing, mentions of bullying, anxiety attack, bitter exes.

Word count: 5,9k

Aelin’s whole body startled before she gained consciousness of what was going on.

She didn’t know what woke her up, her classmate’s hurried taps or Rowan’s intense eyes on her.

The last thing she remembered was one sergeant telling their next instructor couldn’t make it, so they’d have an hour free. Aelin had woken up at 3 am to study Military Law today, so she thought it’d be a good idea to set a timer for 50 minutes and take a nap.

Rowan‘s class was scheduled for later, what the fuck was he doing here this soon?

His gaze lingered on her for a beat that felt like a month. Maybe like the month and a half since that night. Then it landed on the guy in front of Aelin.

"What happened with your beard?" Was the first thing he said. His voice alarmed the whole class, it sounded like a threat one is barely trying to hide.

Aelin couldn't see the recruit’s expression, but she had a good view of the way his shoulders tensed. He looked around. "I- um-"

"Don't look around, look at me!" Rowan shouted, making many eyes go wide. "What the fuck happened to your beard!?"

"The- the razor was a little dull, so I-"

But Rowan wasn't listening. Probably because he didn't care.

No, he was slowly, threatengly walking around to examine each person in the room and pointing out the ones with something wrong about their uniform. Anything, really. He must have a hawk eyesight to notice some of the mistakes he pointed out.

He looked angry, she thought. Aelin didn’t know which state was the class when he walked in, since everyone was already frozen in place when she woke up.

When the people he selected were out of their perfectly aligned rows, Rowan crossed his arms and roared, "ON THE FLOOR, NOW!"

A few jumped to a plank position, ready to start. Others just stared, gawking.

Rowan rested his hands on his hips and stood face to face with one person who didn't move.

"Did I fucking stutter? ON. THE. FLOOR. NOW!"

Everyone followed suit this time, so he started to count.

"One, two, three, four..."

He stopped counting when he noticed someone in the wrong position. He was not in a straight line, so his butt was sticking out. Aelin held on a grimace while Rowan was going his way.

"Do you call that a push-up?"

On the man's side, Rowan's boot pressed against his low back to correct his position.

"How do you expect to be in the Air Force if you can't to a fucking push-up!?" He barked at no one in particular. "The body stays in one line." He poked at someone's arm with his boot, only enough to bring attention. "And watch those elbows! You're not a frog!"

He was still looking around, searching for any flaw in those push-ups. "Pathetic," he spat. "Spineless and pathetic." Rowan rested his foot on another person's back and announced, "I'm starting again! Until y'all stop training like teenagers! One, two, three..."

Aelin could only blink, trying to process this.

Then she forced herself to snap out of that shock. Her great-uncle was a brigadier, for Mala's sake. She knew better than to be surprised. Besides, what did she expect? A little love letter from hot lieutenant saying that he also couldn't forget their night together? Absolutely not.

If Aelin was there to learn the basics of military life until she could work at the hospital, so be it. She was going to kick basic training's ass.

"But we can't keep all the fun to ourselves, right?" Rowan snarled. He looked around the ones with the correct uniform, that kept only watching chaos unfold. "Everyone else on the floor!” He restarted counting, ”One, two, three..."

She was so ready for this. She'd absolutely nail this.

Except that it didn't take long for her to grow annoyed at Rowan's voice counting and barking orders non-stop.

And after Mala knows how long, Aelin came to one conclusion.

She was so fucked.

That was the only thing in her mind as she trained. Even when she felt like her lungs would give out or her legs would soon turn to ashes, Rowan’s scolding was still flawlessly echoing through her ears.

When he wrapped things up, her shoulders almost dropped in relief. They would, if Rowan wouldn’t give her a hard time about posture. This class was longer than usual because he was using the missing instructor’s time along with his own. Also because she started feeling like dying around the fourth minute of so, so many.

“Who’s today’s class leader?” He asked before dismissing everyone.

Aelin’s spine went rigid. Every day, a different recruit was picked to be the class leader. They said it was to learn about leadership and how to cooperate together. In practice, it basically meant she’d lead the class while marching.

Everyone looked at Aelin, and she raised an arm. “It’s me, sir.”

Rowan sighed, as if he couldn’t believe he had to deal with her more than he was obligated to.

“You have 15 minutes to show up at my office.”

Which meant she had 15 minutes to get her things, take a shower, get in another uniform and find his office.

She did it in 13 minutes, though.

Rowan’s office was simple and neat, but at least the chairs were comfortable. After she knocked and he told her to come in, silence took over. They sat one in front on the other, the only sound in the room being Aelin testing the squeak of the chair by repeatedly leaning against it. Annoyingly, by the stiff expression Rowan wore.

“I think you already know what I’m going to say to you.”

She shrugged. “You’ll tell me to pretend it never happened?”

“Excuse me?” His tone was sharper than she predicted. Was he that eager to fuck her again?

Aelin leaned back and suppressed a smile when the chair squeaked again. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind a round two, but I understand that things just got complicated.”

Oh, she definitely wouldn’t mind hitting that again. Besides, she’d work at the hospital in ten weeks. It’s not like they’d need to see each other every day after.

He sighed. “I’m talking about what just happened, Aelin. You were today’s class leader.”

Aelin frowned. “Which means I’m in charge of the drill commands while marching—“

“It means you have to lead them throughout the day. When there’s no instructor, you don’t just take a nap and let everyone run wild!”

When she crossed her arms and glared, trying to think of a retort, Rowan looked up for a second and took a deep breath.

“I know you must struggle being one of the few women in your class, but—“

“Struggle?” She cut in, eyebrows raised. ”Why would I struggle?”

“It’s a common issue among female officers—“

“That’s not an issue, sir.“ Aelin leaned closed and lowered her tone of voice. “I’m more alpha than most of these men, you probably know that already.”

“Then act like it.“ He didn’t look impressed.

Aelin got up and slowly rounded his desk, until she was standing on Rowan’s side. “You’d really like that, wouldn’t you?”

He looked at her up and down, swallowed, then looked away a second too late. “That’s inappropriate behavior, Galathynius.“

Positioned between him and his desk, she tilted her head. “And what? You’re gonna punish me?”

“I’m not afraid to,” he immediately answered, but his tone had an edge to it.

Aelin’s eyes sparkled. She had no idea if he was answering to her innuendo or talking about her relations to his superiors, but she was horny enough to jump to conclusions. She knew he was hesitant, though.

Anything happening between them wouldn’t be exactly against the rules, even though it would be frowned upon.

But having sex inside a military base? They’d be fucked if anyone found out.

Aelin was beyond caring by now, and she had a suspicion Rowan was holding tight to whatever shreds of conscience he had.

She held both hands on the desk behind her, thrusting her chest out. Rowan’s gaze was shameless as it burned through her, his eyes darkening every inch. He looked at her as if he remembered everything she had under that uniform, and just the thought of it made her press her legs together.

“You know, I thought it’d be easier to get you to fuck me after you got your cock that deep into my throat.”

When Rowan finally looked into her eyes, she knew she’d won. He placed a hand on her knee and caressed the inner part with his thumb, but it was enough to send a spark through her body.

“Can I touch you?” He quietly asked. However, the intense look on his green eyes betrayed the strained politeness on his tone of voice.

How gentlemanly of him. Didn’t even sound like the man who climbed her uncle’s fence to fuck her until dawn.

“Oh, you definitely can’t.” Aelin had a triumphant grin on. “But I want you to.”

Rowan’s eyes combusted into hers, and her smile grew. In that millisecond, Aelin knew she had just ripped off his conscience with her teeth.

He got up from that chair in a swift motion, standing just one breath away from her.

“Let’s see how much you want me,” he taunted before taking her pants and panties down all at once, so roughly one button flew away.

Without wasting a second, he inserted two fingers between her folds and plunged in, making her choke a sob. Rowan’s thumb started working on her clit to soothe her from that sudden move, but he scooted closer and whispered, “You were already soaked when I started, baby. I could put a third finger and you wouldn’t even feel it.”

Aelin whimpered. He made her taste herself in his fingers, then kissed her when she licked his index and middle finger the way she’d to another member of his. Rowan cradled her head in a commanding, bruising kiss. He kissed like he could unravel her whole with his lips. He kissed her like he thought he’d never see her again. Aelin pressed her hips against his, moaning, and he moved his mouth to the shell of her ear.

“Were you thinking about me?”

Aelin nodded.

“Use your words, baby. Were you thinking about me?”

She looked deep into his eyes, smirking like the devil. “Yes, sir.”

Rowan’s gaze burned into her while he brought his hand to her neck, squeezing just enough to make her ache for him even more. “Is that why you came to my office begging for my cock like the little slut you are?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpered.

Before she could think, he turned her around and pressed her against his desk, laying on her stomach with her ass up. The sound of his zipper was the only warning she got before Rowan pushed himself inside her all the way, stretching her whole in one swift motion.

Aelin cried out, cursing. It was the most delicious kind of pain.

He gave her a few seconds to adjust and muffled her cries with his hand, probably afraid someone would hear from the outside.

She bit his hand to speak when he started on a languid pace, but Rowan spanked her ass before she could open her mouth. The pain from that smack spread under her skin, making her wiggle her hips against him even more.

“Don’t bite me,” he warned.

“But you loved it last time.”

He gave one ruthless thrust as a warning, and that sweet ache made her sob. God, she loved Rowan’s punishments.

“Condom,” she rasped, finally remembering what she was going to say.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back until he was close to her ear. “I don’t bring condoms to work, baby. You think I fuck every slut that comes into my office?”

Rowan started thrusting in a merciless rhythm, making Aelin’s legs shake.

Aelin did a mental note to see on her period app if she needed to take a Plan B pill. These things were hormone bombs, but she wasn’t on birth control. She had mostly stopped sleeping around after uni, and Dorian has a vasectomy. These days, the only reason Aelin even used condoms was to prevent STDs.

When Rowan hit a spot that made her see stars, Aelin relaxed on the desk and let herself be fucked senseless by him, relishing on the sound of their hips snapping together and his low grunts.

Of all the times people had reckless sex, how many actually led to a baby?

Exactly.

And knowing Aelin’s luck, she knew things would turn out her way. They always did.

***

The shade of Rowan’s hair never let Aelin know which strands were in its natural shade, and which ones were grayer because of Maisie. Or work. Maybe Aelin herself.

The dark circles under his eyes weren’t that static, though. Over time, she had seen them go from almost invisible to a purplish shade that didn’t sit well with his tan skin. Aelin always thought it was a shame seeing a face like his looking so worn out. But today? Today it looked like exhaustion itself had beaten him up from the outside in, not the other way around.

Aelin knew she should keep their interactions to a minimum, but she couldn’t help herself.

“You look like shit, Rowan.”

”Gee, thanks.”

Aelin wriggled in her seat, knowing she should keep her mouth shut. It did nothing to stop her.

“Elide was grouchy today. She said you’re ruining her sex life.”

He laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it. “How so?”

Aelin fully turned to him from the passenger side. “Were you really watching a recorded livestream about ADHD until late with Lorcan last night?”

He opened his mouth to retort, then closed again. A moment later, he said, “In my defense, now I’m convinced she doesn’t have it. And Lorcan thought it was enlightening.”

“Ellie’s a psychiatrist, Rowan. If any of the kids were showing signs of it, she would tell—“

“Is she willing to give me an hour-long lesson about it? Because the Instagram doctor—“

“Rowan, are you listening to yourself?”

“What?” He snapped.

“Do you know what I do every time you send me an article about diabetes in children?”

“You read it?”

“No. I give her ice cream.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not. I fill her pink unicorn bowl with chocolate ice cream, and I enjoy it.”

He clenched his jaw. “You know damn well my dad’s diabetic—“

“You’ll drive yourself fucking insane if you keep this way, Rowan,” she barked. “This is my weekend with Maisie. Do you at least have plans to take fucking a nap?”

Rowan stopped at a red light and narrowed his eyes at her. “I have walls to fix.”

Aelin sighed. “You can’t let her draw on every wall you own.”

“She’s expressing herself through art.”

“You did not just say that.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! You’re just an engineer who traumatizes young people for a living, of course that line came out of your mouth.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Okay, I heard it from a pediatrician. Happy now?”

When she saw the school’s front, Aelin knew she had to wrap this up quick.

“And not Maisie’s pediatrician, because—“

“Because it was from one of the pediatricians I follow online! What is your point?”

“My point—“ Aelin stopped herself when her voice got too loud. She took a deep breath and started again, in a calmer tone. “My point is that you can’t know everything about every specialty child-related just in case your one kid needs it. You can’t be Maisie’s dad 24/7.”

“But I am Maisie’s dad 24/7.”

“When was the last time you talked to Lorcan about something that wasn’t kid-related?” She tried a different approach. When Rowan opened his mouth, she added, “Doesn’t count if it happened while you were watching the kids.”

He shut his mouth and didn’t answer.

She knew it.

When was the last time you went on a date?, was on the tip of her tongue, just to finish proving her point, but Aelin didn’t dare say it out loud.

Her guess would be at least last year, from one time she caught Fenrys trying to play cupid, but it probably wasn’t serious. Their rule was that they’d have to meet the other person before Maisie, but it hasn’t happened yet. For neither of them.

Rowan parked his car, quiet as a mouse. Deep down, he knew he was overexerting himself. And it wasn’t Aelin’s job to worry about him, but she had learned the hard way how important it was to take care of herself so she could take good care of Maisie. Their daughter was the only reason she was concerned. It’s not like Aelin would care about her ex-fling from five years ago. Absolutely not.

Aelin frowned when Maisie came their way with a different change of clothes. It was the second time since starting preschool, and she never peed herself at home. She remembered her daughter always complained about going to school, and wondered if she should start sending Maisie with pull-ups until she finished adapting to that new environment.

After Maisie greeted them both, Rowan crouched and asked, “What happened to Fleetfoot, Mais?”

Aelin’s eyebrows shot up. Fleetfoot was a golden plastic dog Maisie made Rowan buy at a 99 cents store, but she loved it more than many of the expensive toys her family showered her with. She took that miniature puppy everywhere.

Maisie raised her hand and looked at Fleetfoot. Half of its plastic tail was missing, and just the sight of it made her lips wobble and brought moisture to her big green eyes. Rowan immediately hugged her and started soothing his daughter, but Aelin looked around, searching for the teacher’s assistant that always stood outside.

Something was off, and Aelin would find out no matter what.

The TA looked frightened all the time and followed the teacher like a puppy, so it wasn’t hard to get information out of her.

And when Aelin did, she saw red.

She stormed through that school until she found the teacher, Lieutenant Maeve Valg, in a corridor close to the entrance.

“Inside,” Aelin growled and pointed to the empty classroom near them.

The only response was a raise of her eyebrows, somewhere between surprise and scorn, and entering to sit behind the teacher’s desk.

Aelin followed her and banged the door closed. She rested both hands on the table and leaned to get closer and look deep into Mrs. Valg’s eyes, her own slightly bulged. She could feel her blood pumping through her veins like her heart was on steroids, and if looks could kill, that fucking teacher would be on her grave already.

“Tell me why my daughter’s toy is broken.”

She leaned back in the chair, and Aelin felt like that woman’s dark eyes were reading into her soul. “Looks like you already know.”

“I want to hear it from your mouth.” Aelin’s nostrils flared.

The teacher tilted her head, assessing. “I see where Maisie gets that terrible behavior from.”

They were interrupted by the door abruptly being opened and slammed closed. Rowan stood there with crossed arms and eyes darting between the two of them. His glare was so sharp it could cut ice.

Lieutenant Valg sighed in what looked like relief. “Mr. Whitethorn, could you please make—“

“It’s Captain Whitethorn to you,” he commanded in a taut tone.

Aelin didn’t know if the TA told him what happened as well or if he just read too much into the room’s energy, but Rowan seemed pissed. He never used his high rank on people like this.

She glued her eyes back on the teacher and slapped the desk, then immediately pointed at Rowan. “Tell him why Maisie wet herself,” Aelin shouted.

Mrs. Valg held her chin high, but didn’t say a thing.

“I’m waiting, Lieutenant,” he said in a carefully controlled tone and walked closer to them.

His patience seemed to end when his request was met with silence.

“Do I need to remind you again that I outrank you, Lieutenant?” Rowan shouted, making Maeve’s eyes go wide. “If you don’t tell me what happened now, I’m putting you under restriction at the guardhouse, do you understand?”

Mrs. Valg paled, but she was still grinding her teeth together, shooting daggers at Rowan with her eyes. The guardhouse was basically jail, but for petty crimes inside the military. It was the biggest punishment someone could get before being kicked out.

“Your daughter is a little nightmare!” She spit out. “Every other kid was ready for nap time, and she wouldn’t stop playing with that stupid dog! I warned her one, two, three times, then I grabbed that ugly thing and threw across the room.” Mrs. Valg got up, her eyes jumping between Aelin and Rowan. “And then Maisie peed, but you think I enjoy sending my TA to clean the kids every time? It’s not my fault your daughter has a bad bladder,” she spat.

Aelin’s eyes grew with each sentence. When the teacher ended, the only thing she could hear was the muderous thoughts in her head and the pounding in her ears. She felt like her body was slowly being taken over by rage and the hammering flow of her pulse.

“Aelin, could you give me five minutes with Mrs. Valg and come back with Maisie, please?”

“Why—“

Rowan’s gaze was so intense it rendered Aelin speechless. His pine green eyes were being ruled by raw, cold fury, and it looked terrifying framed by all the blood that made his face look crimson. “We’re going to have a little chat, and then she’s going to apologize,” he slowly explained in a deadly tone. There was no arguing with the way he said it, and as much as Aelin wanted to scream and fight and pour all her anger into the teacher, Rowan was the one who could actually do something about what happened. He was a captain, after all.

Maisie was on the playground near the entrance, with a few other kids. Aelin quickly checked on her and if her daughter knew about the shitshow currently going on, she didn’t show.

Aelin never understood why Rowan didn’t want Maisie to be in the free preschool the Air Force provided for them, five minutes away from home.

She understood now.

Aelin’s throat closed when she remembered his words from one of the arguments they had about this. “I teach these Lieutenants myself, Aelin. I don’t trust Maisie around them.”

Her chest started feeling a little too tight, and she took a deep breath to recompose herself.

This was absolutely her fault.

There was no use in crying at the school playground, though.

On the way back to the classroom, Aelin was ready to go back if she heard screaming—there was no way she’d let Maisie see that—but the only sign that something had happened was the quiet whispers outside the classroom, and two people not so casually peering through the window.

If something exploded in there, Rowan kept his promise of doing it for five minutes only.

He looked absolutely unhinged, though. And the teacher looked white as a sheet, the armpits of her uniform sweaty.

Noticing the weird energy of the room, Maisie stiffened. “What’s going on?”

When Rowan heard his daughter’s voice, his whole demeanor changed. He didn’t relax, but still crouched on the floor and ran his fingers through one of her pigtails. “We were talking to Mrs. Valg about what happened today. She’s going to apologize for being disrespectful and hurting Fleetfoot.”

Maisie didn’t say a thing.

Neither did Mrs. Valg

“Seven days,” Rowan prompted.

Maeve’s jaw clenched.

“Fifteen days.”

She drew in a sharp breath.

“Twenty days.”

She swallowed.

Of, fuck. Was this how many days she was spending locked up in the guardhouse?

“Thirty—“

“I apologize.” Maeve spit out, eyes focused on Maisie.

The little girl took one step to the side and looked at her dad, but wouldn’t meet his eye. “It’s not Mrs. Valg’s fault,” the little girl quietly explained, ”I was being a bad kid.”

Aelin didn’t even register Maeve’s lips curling up, she dropped on her knees to talk to Maisie. Immediately. She didn’t know how to explain to a four-year-old that in this case she was expected to mess up, but not the teacher, but she would try until—

“Aelin?”

“What?” Aelin’s head snapped towards Rowan. He was sitting on the chair, clutching his chest. Oh, fuck.

“I might be having a heart attack.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

His eyes bulged, aimed at Aelin’s. “Do I need to call my ambulance myself?”

Aelin’s heart plummeted. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She called the hospital’s front desk as she got the car keys from Rowan’s pocket.

“Hi, this is Dr. Galathynius. I’m coming with a patient. I need a heart team by the side entrance in five minutes.”

˜˜

Dr. Cortland stared at Rowan’s exams with furrowed brows. “I don’t see anything.”

“Try harder.”

Aelin gave Rowan her mom look. She said with her eyes, Could you try to be polite?

He answered her look with another of his own. No. Can we see another doctor?

Aelin sighed and waited while Sam finished looking at Rowan‘s exams. He was still grouchy because of the situation at Maisie’s school, that was the only explanation. There was no way he could’ve known about the brief relationship she had with Sam a year ago.

“Nope,” Dr. Cortland concluded. “Your heart is looking so good you could even join the military.”

Rowan didn’t laugh.

“Maybe there’s something going on at work or at home?” Sam’s gaze slid to Aelin, a bitter smile on his lips. “How’s Maisie?”

Rowan gripped the arms of his chair. He growled, “Do you know her?”

“Can’t say I do, no.”

Aelin’s nostrils flared. Their relationship started going downhill when he asked to meet Maisie. Her daughter was very easygoing, but as a rule, she’d need to introduce him to Rowan first. Nope. Sam wanted too much too fast, and he never truly understood how hard it is to date as a single mom.

Rowan leaned back on his seat, but Aelin couldn’t say he was relaxed.

Dr. Cortland hummed. “Do you think there’s a chance this could be related to anxiety?”

“Absolutely not.”

Aelin tried not to cringe. Knowing Rowan, she wouldn’t discard anxiety that easily. But what does she know? Aelin fixed bones, anxiety was Elide’s specialty.

She politely dismissed herself, wanting to give Rowan privacy to discuss this with Sam. Actually, she didn’t even know what she was doing in that office. She brought him to the hospital and went with the flow, not even thinking that maybe she should have stayed back. The only doctors she needed to see with him were the ones who had Maisie as a patient, but Aelin didn’t think about that in the heat of the moment.

When she finally reached the conference room, Maisie was drawing with the intern Elide borrowed her for babysitting duty. The poor thing.

Her daughter looked up with big, expectant eyes when Aelin approached. “How’s Daddy’s heartbeep?”

“It’s good. Your dad’s fine.” A pause. “And it’s heartbeat,” she corrected.

Maisie frowned. “That’s what I said.”

The stubborn little thing. For the first time in a while, Aelin felt like smiling. Until she remembered the conversation wasn’t over.

“Do you know that feeling when you get scared and your heart beats really fast?”

Maisie solemnly nodded. “Like when Uncle Aedion lets me go on the big slide at the pool.”

“He does what?”

Maisie’s eyes widened. “Let’s talk about Daddy.”

Aelin sighed. She had no idea how to explain an anxiety attack to a kid.

“The doctor said he’s good, Mais. He was probably just feeling scared.”

Her daughter chewed on her lip and nodded, understanding. “Daddy never does scary things. It must be confusing for him.”

Aelin let out a soft, watery chuckle and kissed Maisie’s forehead. “That’s right, baby.”

“Not a baby!” Her daughter complained.

After Rowan was done and Aelin thanked Elide’s intern for babysitting, they had one of the quietest car rides she’d ever witnessed.

Aelin still drove to her house, but when Rowan got off his car just to go back in and drive away, Maisie watched the path he went with a longing gaze.

“I want to go with Daddy.”

Aelin crouched by her daughter’s side. “You’ve already spent last weekend with him, Mais.”

“But what if he gets sick again?” She mused with furrowed brows.

Scratching her forehead, Aelin sighed.

Rowan would be alone at home, no Maisie to keep him up. He’d think. He’d worry. He’d create worst-case scenarios for every consequence of this day.

“You want to spend the night at your dad’s and come back tomorrow morning?”

Maisie nodded, her eyes eager.

“Then go pick some toys to take there, okay?”

She rushed to her room without question, leaving Aelin a small window to pack two bags. One for Maisie, another for herself. She wouldn’t keep Maisie here worrying about her dad, but what if something really happened to Rowan while he was alone with Maisie? Fuck, no.

Aelin’s pack was a lot simpler than Maisie’s. Something to sleep on, her toothbrush. She could survive one night without her skincare routine. Her gaze landed on a little box on a tall shelf.

She grabbed a tissue and enveloped two pills in it. One sleeping pill and the antidepressant tablet she needed to take with breakfast. It wasn’t a big deal, and her depressive episodes only got easier to deal with time. She just didn’t want Rowan—or a judge—finding out about it. She had seen parents losing custody for a lot less.

Not that she thought Rowan would take her to court anytime soon. In fact, he was adamant that they didn’t need lawyers when they first decided to co-parent Maisie.

But Aelin had very little room for mistakes when it came to her daughter. Besides, Rowan did criticize her parenting on a daily basis.

For now, everything was under control. He doesn’t care about her, and it doesn’t affect Maisie. There was no need for him to know about her antidepressants.

Aelin still waited a little longer to go. Maisie liked taking her time picking her toys.

Just like her dad, the intrusive thought came as quickly as it went away.

She grabbed Maisie’s hand and they went by foot. Rowan lived so close it wasn’t even worth it to get a bike, he was always one small block away.

Aelin tried to open his door, but it was locked. She frowned.

They lived in a military housing complex, right next to the Air Force base. Who the hell locked doors here? This was the safest it could get.

Rowan appeared a second later, and the confused look she saw him wearing through the window was almost comical.

“What’s going on?”

Aelin shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Just making sure Mais doesn’t become half-orphan.”

He shifted on his feet. “You don’t have to.” Something charged passed behind Rowan’s eyes. Aelin looked away.

“I know.” She swallowed and entered the house a second later, without invitation. It wasn’t her job to read into Rowan’s feelings, so she wouldn’t.

The first thing Aelin did was go into Fenrys’ old room and put the bedsheets she brought from home. He moved out years ago, so it meant only half of the STDs this bed used to have were still lingering. It’d have to do.

She found them in the kitchen, Rowan gathering supplies while Maisie painted her coloring book at the other end of the table.

Aelin grabbed the first knife she saw and pointed at him. Rowan didn’t look surprised.

“Sit.”

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I would, but I’m not mentally ready to dine a microwave meal.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes. She knew about all the drowsiness and fatigue that came after an anxiety attack. Rowan should be resting, not playing chef.

“I can use a pan,” she spit out, then looked at his pans. For fuck’s sake, why did he have so many? Aelin picked one she didn’t know the exact purpose, but would do. “This one, for example, is perfect for making pasta. I’m making pasta tonight.”

When Rowan opened his mouth, Maisie beat him to it.

“Mommy.”

Both of them turned to her.

“I think we should let Daddy make dinner,” she politely insisted in a matter-of-fact tone.

Aelin’s jaw went slack.

Did she just say Rowan makes better dinner? In her face?

By the triumphant grin he wore, Maisie did.

”You can cut the vegetables,” he offered.

Aelin squinted her eyes and sat on the table, begrudgingly accepting the role of sous-chef.

Silence took over, and she couldn’t stop thinking about what happened today. That bully teacher. Rowan going to the hospital. She swallowed a lump in her throat. It was her fault.

Aelin was stubborn, but she’d be damned if she’d let her little girl go near that teacher ever again.

“Maisie?”

Her daughter hummed.

“There’s this other school your Aunt Sellene told your dad about. I was thinking we should take a look there on Monday. We could go to Skull’s Bay when we’re done.”

The pirate-themed restaurant she loved to go to. She looked at Rowan to see if he looked mad that she decided this without telling him, but his eyes looked soft. There was even a tiny tilt in the corner of his lip.

That wasn’t Maisie’s reaction, though.

“I don’t need school.”

Just like that, Rowan’s soft moment ended.

“And why’s that?” He demanded, arms crossed.

Their daughter dropped her colored pencil and fully turned to her dad. “Because I’m a smartie about everything.” A pause. “Duh!”

Rowan clamped his lips together, trying to keep a straight face, and Aelin’s reaction was pretty much the same. If they laughed, Maisie would think she won this argument.

Aelin took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, and thought of a good argument to beat this one.

“You’re right, kiddo. You’re too smart for your own good.” Aelin heavily sighed, letting her daughter think she had the upper hand. “I guess I‘ll have to call Aunt Sellene and tell you won’t be joining Bree at school.”

Breanna, Sellene’s daughter. She and Maisie were thick as thieves.

“Wait.”

Aelin and Rowan exchanged a look. They were so close.

Maisie continued, “You didn’t tell I’d play with Bree.”

Rowan continued to prepare dinner, pretending this wasn’t a big deal. “You’d play with Bree every day. I’d make sure you two stay in the same class.”

The little girl fidgeted with her pencil, brows furrowed. Aelin would pay good money to know what was going on inside her head, but it wasn’t too difficult to tell.

“I’ll think about it,” was the only thing she said before going back to her drawing.

The stubbornness was one of the few traits Maisie inherited that couldn’t be blamed on one parent. She had gotten it from both of them.

“I’ll think about it”? In Maisie language, that was very close to becoming a Yes.

Not that the kid had much of a choice here, but it was best to let her think she did.

Rowan seemed think the same thing as her. His surprised look turned triumphant when their gazes met, and when his slightly parted lips reshaped themselves into a smile, Aelin grinned back.

This day had been hell, so she’d enjoy this small win.

A/N: I highly recommend reading the bonus chapter 3.5 before reading chapter 4

A/N 2: I promise I won’t hurt baby Maisie ever again! I did it for the plot!!

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@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@fangirlprincess09

@goddess-aelin

@leiawritesstories

@rowanaelinn

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@s-uppertime

@thegreyj

@violet-mermaid7

@wishfulimaginings

#rowaelin #throne of glass #aelin and rowan #rowaelin fanfic #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #look at us now

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thepenultimateword · 1 year

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Hello!! Can I request a captive x captor prompt list? I don't know if that's something up your alley, but your prompt lists have a wide variety and have helped me get out of some sticky spots (that I wrote myself into lol). If not, that's totally fine too. I appreciate your work ❤

Sure thing! Imma do my best to make them non-toxic/non-Stockholm syndrome-y because that’s more comfy for me. But thank yooou! I’m so glad that my prompts have been able to help you at all! Sometimes I wonder, so that’s really nice to know!

A pirate crew captures a selkie and intends to sell it at a dark enchanted market of different creatures and rarities. However, the more one of the pirates spends time guarding their captive, the more they dread pawning them off to the highest bidder. But how can they commit mutiny against their crew and captain, the only family they know? Especially for a creature that most definitely hates them. 2. When a human steps into a faerie circle, the fae in question is ecstatic. Their fellow fae friend has a birthday coming up and a taste for unique items and eccentricities. Actual conscious animals are hard to come by, but a human transformed into an animal? Much easier. And how is Other Fae to know the difference?

3. After trying their food by chance, a royal forces a local cook into their employ as their personal chef. Though the royal spoils them with nice quarters, unlimited ingredients, and a ridiculously high wage, the chef cannot forgive them for taking away their freedom. Meanwhile, the royal, whose love language is food, falls deeper in love with each meal.

4. Pirates are to be hanged. That is the law. However, when a recently arrested pirate is up for execution, the city's lord visits them with a bargain: their life for their service as a guard. The lord's child has recently bought a ship and is insistent on sailing around the world, oblivious of their own inexperience and naivety. And everyone knows there's no one more sea-smart than a pirate. However, their child, having no idea of the deal, begins catching feelings for their gruff crew member who always seems to be there for them.

5. Dragons have taken humans captive since the days of knights and princesses. It is no different for the modern-day city dragons, though the reason has become foggier over the centuries. Is it for hoarding? For food? Love? All the dragon knows is their instincts screamed at them to take this person, so they did. Except now they're riddled with guilt. On the other hand, they picked on of the only humans who would be ok with this development. A dragon scientist/expert who is over the moon to study a member of the rare species up close.

6. Human pests are always breaking into the giant's home, stealing their supplies, wealth, and anything else they can get their tiny grubby hands on. They decide to put up traps, but when they actually succeed in catching one of the thieves, they're not sure what to do with them. They don't want to kill them, but they certainly can't let them go either.

7. A monster hunter is taken captive by one of the very monsters they once caught and sold. The monster escaped a couple years ago, but not without serious scars, both emotional and physical. They intend to make the monster hunter share their pain, but the hunter is so much more ragged and tired then they remember. It seems they’ve become broken and scarred all on their own.

8. Knowing that planet earth is about to be destroyed, a group of aliens breaks protocol and abducts a few hundred humans in order to preserve the race. However, the humans, whether uninformed or wracked with grief are none too happy about this development. The ship’s captain tries to keep them isolated to one area of the ship, believing it will be easier to them adjust to one factor at a time, but one of the humans is always escaping, and searching the captain out. The captain is still only semi-fluent in human, but their addresses usually involve a lot of shrieking and spitting.

9. Vampires are merciless, bloodthirsty monsters; the vampire Hunter knows this from much experience. So why are they having such a hard time finishing this one? Pretty hair and a sunshiny attitude are not reason enough!

10. The detective is the only thing standing in the way of the criminal’s success and freedom. They should take this chance, catching the detective helpless and off guard, to get rid of them permanently. But…the detective has also been the only constant in their life for years. They’ve dedicated so much time to impressing and thwarting them and the detective so much time to chasing them. Maybe they shouldn’t rush it and keep hold of them a little longer.

11. A royal is almost assassinated and the hitman is put in the dungeons. The royal insists on talking to their would-be-killer themselves and what starts as an interrogation transforms into a daily storytelling session, with the royal hounding the assassin for information about the outside world. As the assassin’s execution date looming, the trapped royal’s desire to leave grows. If anyone could take them away from this place, it would be assassin, but can that trust them not to finish the job they were hired for?

12. After kidnapping Sidekick multiple times as leverage, it is Villain’s turn to be a hostage. In all their captures, Sidekick discovered a familial connection between Villain and Supervillain, and with Supervillain on the verge of mass destruction, Sidekick is going to exploit it. Surrender or Villain will be killed. Except Sidekick has no experience with hostages and is relying on all of Villain’s advice on how to keep them secure. At first it’s manipulation, but after a while…Villain doesn’t really want to leave anymore.

#Prompt #prompt list #short prompt #writing prompt #fantasci #captive x captor #But not toxic #creative writing #Writblr #pen's prompts #fantasci prompt #pirates #royalty #heroes and villains community

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midnights-dragon · 6 months

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Nightingale's Lament (Azricrow s3 speculation ficlet, 1.8k)

Crowley has to drive Aziraphale somewhere in the Bentley. They aren't talking. The Bentley is not going to stand for that.

I love the forced proximity trope, and by Neil’s ‘they aren’t talking’, it seems that that may be where we’re headed. And so I raise to you, a thought I had while driving and pulled over to write out. Obviously I've just gone completely insane over that one (1) thing Neil Gaimen said, as well as the s3 confirmation, so enjoy this brain-child one-shot that I had WHILE DRIVING and PULLED OVER MY FUCKING CAR to write it on my phone. Comments very appreciaciated for my own sanity as I am sacrificing the studying I should be doing for my final exams tomorrow in order to obsess over these tragic little gay men (gn). [Ao3 link if you'd prefer]

Crowley, as unfortunate as he may find it, had been tasked with driving himself as well as Aziraphale to someplace in Scotland. It's where the Second Coming is meant to happen, eventually, and so they're meant to be scouring out the lay of the land.

He also suspects that it's a ploy from Nina and Maggie, as well as Muriel, to force him and Aziraphale to work together with just the two of them. And to that he says, the three of them underestimate how stubborn he and Aziraphale can be.

Crowley storms from the bookshop (where most of their planning has been taking place, especially since it's conveniently close to the elevator to Heaven, where Aziraphale has to return, sometimes; he hates it, Crowley can tell, not that he would ever care, right?) and, with a sneer that he slips on as a mask to cover the real emotion stretched across his face, he yanks open the door to the backseat.

He tells the angel to sit there, more or less. Not with his words, but rather, with glares out of the corner of his eye beneath his sunglasses that he never takes off; with a flourish of his hand and a wave of dark-painted fingernails in Aziraphale's reddened face; with the way he blocks the passenger's side door with his lean frame, and clearly jabs his thumb towards the back.

You've lost your place at my side, he seems to say, even if he is not talking aloud, even if he does not look at Aziraphale as the angel obeys the silent command and slips into the backseat of the Bentley. He doesn't mean it, not really. What he means to say is, I want you to sit beside me, but I don't know what I would do if you did. What he means to say is, I can't control myself, being so close to you, being alone. What he means to say is, I need to keep up with this not talking, because if I don't, if we don't, then I don't know how I could bear it.

But he doesn't say any of those things, and Aziraphale does not hear them. They aren't talking. Sometimes they'll speak (usually in gestures, rather than words), but even when they do, they aren't looking at each other. They aren't talking.

Crowley gets into the driver's seat and is silent. He says nothing. He throws the car into drive more aggressively than necessary, and almost feels bad about it, but doesn't, when he catches the flash of white that is Aziraphale adjusting himself for Crowley 'going too fast for him' in the rear-view mirror. The demon growls a little, grinding his back teeth together, and then speeds down the streets of Soho until he makes it to a winding back road that will take them to their destination.

They aren't talking. The car is silent.

As it happens, the car does not appreciate that.

As Crowley turns down the road at a speed that is very illegal, the Bentley jolts, and the demon suddenly finds himself unable to pass forty on the speedometer. He blinks, slow and confused, and his eyes are smoldering behind his sunglasses.

"The fuck?" He growls, low and rumbling, and he smacks at the dashboard repeatedly, pressing his foot down all the way as he bares his teeth and hisses at his car. In the backseat, Aziraphale flinches at the sound of the demon's voice — it is raspy and gravelly, almost smoky with how unused it has become, how deadened.

The Bentley hums (cars couldn't sound smug, logically, but it was a very near thing), seemingly unconcerned with Crowley's frustration that is rapidly accelerating into rage, and then begins to softly croon a gentle ballad of a song from the stereo, the peaceful sound of it filling the silence of the car with a song that both Crowley and Aziraphale recognize all too well from countless nights out at the Ritz together.

There was magic abroad in the air There were angels dining at the Ritz And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square . . .

In the rear-view mirror, behind his sunglasses, Crowley's gaze flits to Aziraphale despite himself — only for a moment, but a moment that says enough. Aziraphale is frozen, and his own eyes are shining brightly with things left unsaid. His eyes — his eyes — his eyes that are violet.

His violet eyes, which yanks Crowley out of whatever stupor he was in. His violet eyes, because he had made his choice, and it wasn't Crowley. His violet eyes, because he was sitting in the backseat for a reason, and they weren't talking, and Aziraphale never even looked at him anymore, which was a relief, honestly, because Crowley didn't know if he could take looking into those goddamn fucking violet eyes for a moment longer.

Crowley slams down hard on the brakes and rips the keys from the ignition, his chest heaving, his hands shaking. A car behind him blares its horn and swerves around him (thanks to a well-placed miracle from Aziraphale, not that Crowley would ever admit it). Crowley flips them the bird, uncaring and angry, and grieving and hurt and not wanting to listen to the goddamn fucking song for a moment longer, not wanting to see Aziraphale's goddamn fucking violet eyes in his fucking rear-view mirror for any second more. He slams his hand down on the dashboard, again and again and again, over and over, his claws digging into the leather, his eyes squeezing shut and a pained, strangled noise clawing its way up his throat as he slams his palm down, again and again and again.

He is grieving, and he is hurting, and he is angry.

Behind him, Aziraphale is looking away, his goddamn fucking violet eyes welled up with tears not unsimilar to the ones in Crowley's serpentine gaze, white sclera swallowed up by yellow. Aziraphale is looking away, and he is not talking, because he never looks at Crowley anymore, never talks to Crowley anymore, and Crowley both is grateful to him for it and hates him for it, because he wouldn't be able to bear it, but god, he wants to.

Crowley grieves, and hurts, and rages, and Aziraphale cries silently, and does not speak, does not look — and still, their song continues to play defiantly on.

The streets of town were paved with stars It was such a romantic affair And when you turned and smiled at me A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square . . .

"I'm — I'm — I'm not fucking doing this right now," Crowley snarls at his car, hissing between his teeth, blinking hard and fast and willing the tears culminating and burning at his cheeks to just fucking leave him the fuck alone. The Bentley simply hums her engine (despite the keys being gripped in one of Crowley's hands, decidedly not in the ignition, why the fuck did he make her sentient, again?), and the music becomes impossibly louder, and Crowley thinks he could cry, but he cannot, he must not, because — because he couldn't do that now, he couldn't, couldn't bear it, couldn't take it —

I still remember when you smiled and said Was that a dream or was it true? —

And then, above it all, by some cocktail party effect bullshit, because the car was practically screaming with that fucking song —

"Crowley."

Aziraphale said his name. Aziraphale said his name, and Aziraphale is looking at him, and Aziraphale is talking to him, and Crowley had sworn he wouldn't look back, wouldn't talk back, couldn't and mustn't and every other thing in the goddamn world, but fuck, he couldn't take it.

Crowley's gaze flits back to the rear-view mirror, and he thinks that he might choke when he sees the raw grief in Aziraphale's eyes — his violet eyes, he reminds himself, his violet eyes, but — but he can't bring himself to even care, because it's Aziraphale, and he's looking at him, even though they're both grieving, and angry, and afraid.

"Don't — don't be too angry with her, my dear," Aziraphale whispers, and he's still looking at Crowley, still talking to him, and the words my dear seemed to reverberate around the sudden quietness of the car, because Crowley could hear nothing, see nothing, but Aziraphale, who was looking at him, and talking to him. "Or, erm, try not to, I suppose." Aziraphale was wringing his hands together, and his gaze had gone downcast, but he was still talking. "She's — well, she's only trying to help, after all. Only trying to — to make things good, yes?"

Crowley opens his mouth to speak, and chokes on his words. A horribly strangled noise rasps its way from his throat, and he does look away, then, forcing himself to because he can't bear it, and he rests his forehead against the wheel of his car. He's shaking.

He's so tired.

He's grieving, and he's angry, and he's afraid, and he's so goddamn tired.

"I know," Crowley whispers at last, his voice broken like gravel, shattered like glass. He doesn't bother fighting the small, strangled sound that comes out as a whimper and spills from his trembling lips. "I know."

He leans down, and twists the key back into the ignition.

The engine hums appreciatively, and the song continues to play, looping back from the beginning.

That certain night The night we met There was magic abroad in the air . . .

Crowley lifts his head, lifts his deadened, dull gaze, and allows himself one sinful glance back at Aziraphale. The angel isn't looking at him anymore; he's staring down at his hands, and his violet eyes have welled up with tears that cast a pale sheen and makes them look almost blue, and he looks so tired. He looks like he is, just as Crowley is, grieving, and angry, and hurting, and so, so goddamn tired, in every sense of the word.

Crowley sighs. It's an exhausted, broken sound, and it speaks more than he could say in a thousand words of finest poetry.

"I know," he repeats, and he isn't talking about his car.

And then he leans back, and gently presses down on the gas, and continues to drive with Aziraphale sitting in the backseat, their song playing softly over the stereo. They don't talk to each other, and they don't look at each other. But that one single moment with their song, the acknowledgement of a nightingale, of their nightingale, of what their nightingale represented, even with so few words, it — it meant something.

It meant that perhaps, one day, they would be able to rest. Together. Past their grief, and anger, and fear, and hurt, and exhaustion; finding peace, and home, and love, in each other's arms.

And perhaps, as they rested, a nightingale would sing faintly in the distance. They wouldn't hear it, and nobody would know. But it would be there, all the same.

But for now, they did not speak, and they did not acknowledge anything past the nightingale, and for now — until they could rest with peace, with each other, with their love — that would have to be enough.

I may be right, I may be wrong But I'm perfectly willing to swear That when you turned and smiled at me A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.

#the beginning of the end #they both just really need to rest #in each others arms #good omens #good omens 3 #good omens s3 #crowley x aziraphale #ficlet #good omens ficlet #crowley fanfic #aziraphale fanfic #ineffable idiots #the bentley #good omens angst #good omens fanfic #good omens fandom

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