#AND WHEN SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT THE ARMOR STAND AH

[mixterglacia]

This will probably be completely out of character, but I might as well give it a shot. Y'all wanna put Chief in his place?

(suggestive, dominant reader, not really nsfw, but heading there, mentioned disability, walk em like a dog)

He's never exactly subtle when he turns back up. What with the chains and such. He was an incredibly accomplished hunter, he didn't really have to be.

But he was very late, and you were very much not in the mood.

"What gave you the idea I'd have endless time for you today, Chief?" You crossed your arms, pointing to your chair.

He didn't respond, other than snorting as he settled in to get a consult for a new armor engraving.

Heh. No. No, not today. You whipped around before he could remove his helmet and sharply smacked it with one of your jewlers hammers. It wouldn't hurt him or the helmet, but it certainly makes his ears ring.

Ah, there's that rolling snarl.

"I don't care who you are, if you want my services, you'll treat me with respect." You return his ferocity in equal measure. "Apologize for your poor time management, then we'll talk."

The clan leader is silent for several long moments before grumbling. "...I will be prompt next time."

"Won't be a next time if you don't say-"

"Sorry." Chief cuts you off, removing his beautiful helm. Honestly, you've been desperate to get your hands on it, leave your mark. It took a lot of mental fortitude to risk him going elsewhere.

You nod, setting your hammer aside. "Acceptable. Now, about your-"

"I'm-" Before he can continue, you step in again.

"Don't interrupt me, it's rude." You hissed, eyes narrowed to meet his golden pair. "I have a job to do, and I can't get to it if you continue to cut me off."

This clearly irritates him, but the Yautja permits it.

Thus, you set about deciding how to depict a recent hunt he was particularly proud of.

After the details are set, you're surprised to see him settle in. Most left after, disinterested in the actual time consuming nature of engraving.

"You're domineering." Chief observed as you got started. "Did you realize that?"

Honestly, that makes you laugh. "What, because I'm tired of being bossed around by you and your idiot clan? I'm not."

"I've been with many different types over my life." He observed casually, studying you. "And you are. There's nothing wrong with that."

"When it gets me in trouble with important sorts, I think there is." You scoffed as you rough out a few ideas. "Ever told you why I need the cane?"

Said item rested nearby, close enough to be in your hand the second it was required.

"Back talked my Trial leader. Mean old bitch. She kicked it just wrong and I've never been the same." You hummed softly. "So tell me again, how is it not a problem?"

"I'm not your Trial leader, am I?" Chief wondered, almost deceptively curious. He was clearly trying to get at something you weren't picking up on.

"What, you trying to tell me you like it when I take control of you like some misbehaving pup?" It was a joke. You meant it as a joke.

But the rumble, not unlike an engine, hints that he didn't see it that way. "And if I did?"

Ohhhh man. This was above your pay grade...but you welcomed the challenge. "I'd expect you to heel."

His eyes flash, and his tusks tick, a subtle chuckle. Calmly, he gets up and joins you at your station. You pointedly ignore how a blush burns it's way down your chest.

Voice steady, almost disinterested, you remind him. "Dogs don't stand on two legs, do they?"

You were well familiar with the scent wafting through the air. He was most certainly as into this as you were. Like a trained tiger, he sinks onto his haunches.

"That's my boy." You turn to reward him with a gentle hand along his locs. You relish in the barely visible shudder that shakes the leader. "Now then, let's get you all sorted, eh Snowy?"

[rinirosed]

CLEOS LAUGH UHUHUHU 😿🫶🫶🫶

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH I CANT

[bloodfiendarling]

𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓾𝓹

— ( do note this ask was sent before my rules post was out but ill let it pass bcz it doesnt break any rules )

ah hello ! !! this is the first time im writing for jingyuan sama ..! hopefully its to your liking anon .. <:D tho i did self indulge a lil much on this ... hopefully you still like it x_x

also , yes .! i love ryona . i dig it a lot .. please dont b scared to req anything with dark themes .. i will be cheering you on !

pair — reader x jing yuan

wc — ~1k

contains — sub bottom char, dom top reader, established relationship, gn reader, possessive reader, jealousy, (false) cheating suspicions, reader is kinda fucked up in the head, size difference (smaller reader), thigh humping, dry humping, reader is pretty forceful

you couldn’t stand it.

the way he would ignore you sometimes, when you two just wouldn’t be able to have some pda for the sake of his reputation. it pissed you off.

you want to love him! show him off, maybe. hug him, kiss him, hold his hand.. all in public. but you can’t — because he has a reputation to uphold here. and what made you more mad is the fact you’d hear your own colleagues talk about him. how they want to get with him.

what pissed you off the most about today, though? you heard someone spreading rumors. dating rumors. not between you and jing yuan, no. (you would’ve appreciated that, really) it was between him and some other woman — one that he’s been working with for a good while.

you clicked your tongue, entering his office. even just from your face it was obvious you were in a horrible mood.

“oh?” he started, with that usual lazy smile of his — “my dear, something on your mind?”

he shifted in his seat, adjusting himself so you could sit yourself beside him — which, you do — letting out a tired sigh. “rumours about you again, love.” you respond.

“mm, it’s the one with that woman, i assume?”

you click your tongue again. just hearing anything related to her set you off — c’mon, now.. it’s not like they’re actually together.. your dearest would never, ever betray you in such a way.

but you see the way that woman was — how she was smiling and all. laughing those rumors off, all while clearly enjoying the attention she got. it disgusts you. it worsens your mood more and more as you thought about it.

the general could sense your frustration — almost as if he read your mind. his expression softened a little bit, this time looking at you. watching you biting on your nail, whilst the other hand was balled into a fist, resting on your thigh.

“hey,” you looked back at him. the frustration was clear in your eyes. even you, yourself didn’t get it. what were you so angry about…? you can’t help but take it out on him. “you love me, right, jing yuan?”

“of course I do.” he replies — it’s short. it’s obvious. but in your messed up little head, it felt like nothing but a lie.

“prove it.”

“wha–?”

“prove it, i said.” you lean into him, a hand against his stomach. the gold part of his belt felt cool against your palm. for a second, it gives you shivers.

“here..?” the general’s voice was filled with uncertainty. “the door is still unlo–”

“that doesn’t matter.” you interrupt, “they’re not allowed to come in, right? locked or not. just tell them to leave if someone knocks. simple.”

jing yuan gulped down, eyeing the door once more before giving in — fumbling with his belt. slowly but surely getting that corset-like piece of armor loose and discarding it completely.

he’s so obedient whenever you were mad…

“c’mere.” you pat on your thigh, inviting him to sit on it — he does, obeying you. you were upset, he didn’t want your mood to go even lower. though, due to jing yuan being bigger than you, he was quite hesitant on putting his entire weight — he knows he’s quite heavy.. but you insist he sits down properly.

he felt shy all of a sudden — putting his hands on your shoulders, nuzzling his face into your neck. you didn’t know if this shyness was a result of the position, or the fact the door was very much unlocked — maybe both.

you had a hand on his lower back, as if inviting for the white-haired general — your free hand decided to run through his hair. it’s so soft… how could you not?

jing yuan lets out a whimper, hips moving on his own. slowly but surely running them up and down your thigh. his own legs shaking. you slip your hand into the side of his pants — feeling around his waist. he jolts at your cold hands, letting out a small gasp. those hands of yours continue to trace through his body, feeling his breath grow a little faster. feeling all over his back, his hips, his waist, him. just him.

you wanted to escalate this, though, you heard something. something he feared. a knock at the door.

“jing yuan, sir?”

a voice is heard, calling to the general. you could clearly hear his breath hitch. “a– ah.. who—nnh–!”

those hands of yours continued to tease him. featherlight touches all over his body, teasing him by slipping your hands into his pants every now and then — watching your darling general explain why the person couldn’t come in — stuttering on his words, trying to reason with them..

you felt mean today. you were in a shitty mood, after all.

he lets out a sigh of release when they finally decide to go — whoever that was leaving his office alone for another time. finally, he gets to calm down.

“i love you.” you whisper into his ear suddenly, “you love me too, right? you wouldn’t go for that woman, right? right?”

why did you doubt him, even?

you don’t know, nor did you care. all you wanted to hear was an ‘i love you, too’ from the general.. your general.

his weight was kind of crushing you.. but you didn’t mind it much. you pressed a kiss onto his neck, sucking into it to form a hickey. then another… and another. it didn’t take too long for his entire neck to be covered by them. you loved it.. marking him up as yours (as if wasn’t already..)

“m’gonna–” his grinding was growing a bit more desperate — damn, already?

“go on. show me how much you love me.” — those words made him whimper, closing his eyes. you pulled on his hair, yanking his head so jing yuan was looking at you — grabbing his face with one of your hands and inviting him into a messy kiss — tongue being forcefully shoved into his mouth.

“i love you, i love you, i love you.. mmMH—!” he said between eager gasps, feeling his orgasm washing over him. you could, too — that warm feeling on your thigh.

he wraps his big arms around you, moans being muffled by the kiss. he just couldn’t get enough, can he? he wouldn’t even care anymore if someone came in and saw him this way. neither did you. at least they’d know you were his.

“i love you, darling. please ruin me..”

hsr masterlist ♥︎

[versadies]

MY LOVE, MINE, ALL MINE (various x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. my love, mine, all mine

ADDRESSED. neuvillette, alhaitham, capitano, diluc, itto, tartaglia, kaveh, kaeya (x gn!reader)

STAMPS. what body part they kiss the most (sfw)

CONTENT. ooc (?), fluff/no-angst, established relationships, possibly cheesy (not sorry), possible grammar errors, mentions of battle, mentions of blood (capitano, childe)

POST-SCRIPT. all these characters are nothing but pokemons to me, i see one, i'll collect one in game. part two will come soon (with zhongli, wriothesley, ayato, thoma, pierro, and pantalone!)

LINKS. masterlist / taglist / part two

HANDS – Neuvillette, Alhaitham, Capitano, Diluc

NEUVILLETTE kisses your knuckles the most. To him, he believes that kissing you on the lips is far too intimate to be seen in public, preferring to do it in closed doors where it’s just the two of you alone, and so he often kisses your knuckles whenever he can. 

Whenever he does, one of his glove-covered hands would reach towards yours before lifting it to his lips, kissing each knuckle with care as though your hand is a delicate treasure, as if every kiss is a promise that he’ll hold your heart with care and unwavering devotion. 

It doesn’t help that you often find your cheeks warming up when his intense violet-shaded eyes look at yours, and no words were enough for you to explain the connection that you both have from just a simple stare. 

By the time he pulls away from your hand, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Oh, do you have a fever, my dear?” He asks worriedly, removing one of his gloves to check on the temperature of your forehead after kissing your knuckles out of nowhere while the two of you were lounging on the couch in his office. “Fret not, I can make something that can ease your fever away.” He adds, before standing up and rushes away to make a drink that will help you ease yourself, unaware that he’s the reason for your flustered state.

Ah, the things you’d do for this sweet man of yours. 

The same goes for ALHAITHAM when it comes to kissing you in public. He believes that the two of you kissing on each other’s lips should be private with no one to ruin it or spoil the intimacy, and so you often find him kissing you in other parts instead – specifically, your hands or cheeks. 

It’s rare for him to kiss you in public since he’s not much of a PDA man, but when he does, it happens at a quiet or secluded moment when the world seems to be muted around you two. When Alhaitham finds himself staring at you for too long, he couldn’t help but smoothly put his hand on top of yours, and raises your hand towards his lips to kiss it. 

His turquoise-shaded eyes stay on yours when you look at him, never looking away as you feel his lips on your skin, bringing chills to your spine from the feeling. The way he stares at you is as if he knows your deepest secrets and desires, and knows what sets you off to make your knees become jelly-like.  

It doesn’t help that he’d casually act as if nothing happened after, as if it’s just a casual thing to do (it is, to him), leaving you staring at him with your mouth agape. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He asks, hiding a small smirk as he glances at you. 

He definitely knows what he’s doing. 

CAPITANO is a strong man with a physique that could make anyone intimidated – both vision-holders and non-vision holders alike. It’s no doubt that such a powerful man like him would most likely be found in numerous battlefields, bringing the Tsaritsa many victories that she deserves. 

So it’s a strange sight to see said strong man on one knee, holding your hand as he gives it an affectionate kiss. He does it in a way that’s as though you’re a deity worth worshiping. He’s a captain by others, but to you, he’s your knight in shining armor (that’s corrupted by bloodshed and death, but we don’t talk about that here). 

You cannot see the expression he makes, but the way he kisses your hand is enough for you to know how much this man, who had killed so many and left no mercy to his opponents, is soft and caring for you. He kisses with care, as if afraid that you’ll shatter if he doesn’t control his strength. 

It became a custom for him to be on one knee and kiss your hand whenever he comes home to you from another mission – which is perhaps more often than you both like to admit. Despite your insistence that he doesn’t have to do such things, he does it anyway. In a way, it’s his way of apologizing to you for the lost time, and will do anything to make it up to you.

And he always did, with gifts, comfort, and of course, love. 

“I’m home, my love.” He spoke, with a hint of affection in his gruff voice that usually holds so much authority, kissing your hand tenderly.

DILUC is a gentleman by heart, and although he’s seen as the epitome of perfection around Mondstadt, he is seen indoors as a vulnerable man who you dearly care for. For so long, the two of you have found comfort and love within one another in the dimly lit room that you both share in the manor. He’s your warmth, and you’re his pillar. 

In private, where no one could see underneath the aloof and courteous man but you, he’d tiredly wrap his arms around you as he sighed in contentment. It’s normal for a man such as him to be so tired from work, so tired from his duties, and so tired from everything outside of his manor, but he is never tired of you, his beloved spouse who he treasures. He’s a zealous soul who cares not for wealth and materialism, but for the people of Mondstadt and the ones he loves.  

Your hand is often intertwined with his, and he’d bring up your hand up to his lips in the quiet moments of your shared intimacy. To him, your hand is a canvas that he paints with his deep affection and adoration. 

You couldn’t help but soften up as a result, feeling cherished and loved by your beloved man who never fails to make you swoon. 

For Diluc, kissing your hand is more than some simple intimate gesture, but rather a way to honor your pure essence – to show you how grateful he is to have you who has captured his soul in a tight grip that he never wants to leave from. And so, he continues to kiss your hand more, each a testament with a silent vow to love you throughout your lives together. 

“A-Ah.. My bad,” He clears his throat, his ears turning almost as red as his hair, “It seems I almost got carried away.” 

LIPS – Itto, Tartaglia, Kaveh, Kaeya

ITTO is a kind soul at heart, with a fiery passion when it comes to his loved ones – specifically, and with no certain favoritism, you. The oni is not one to shy away from showing you how much he loves you with all of his huge heart, so expect lots of kisses from him! 

The most prominent part that he kisses is of course, your lips. 

For Itto, there is no greater joy than the taste of your lips, each kiss contains joy and love on his end. With his endless energy and passionate spirit, he approached each kiss and affection  with an infectious enthusiasm, eager to lose himself in the overwhelming warmth of your presence and affection. 

In the sweetness of your kiss, he finds it much better than the feeling of sweet victory from a beetle battle, and he couldn’t find himself to remove the pleased grin on his face whenever he gets a kiss from you. 

It’s as if your lips is a magnetic force to his, as he never hesitates to kiss you whenever he could – be it whenever he greets you, whenever he wins a battle, basically every moment with him (a bit of an exaggeration really, but you get what I mean!). 

“My boo boo bear!” He cheers when he sees you in his vision, running up towards you as he instantly gives you a bone-crushing hug, lifting you up with his immense strength regardless of your weight. “I missed you! How was your day?” He asks excitedly, giving you a big smooch! on your lips.

CHILDE is just as fun as Itto – if you excuse his battlelust, of course. Besides his need for an activity or someone to fight with, the prowess fighter is not shy when it comes to giving you what he believes you deserve, which is giving you his undying affection.

He’s an infectious man, who leeches off to your kisses and hugs. He’s a fighter by spirit, but a lover by heart. He’s attentive to your needs, very willing to give you tons of kisses if you ask for it. Of course, even if you didn’t, he’d snatch a kiss or two from you without you expecting it. 

His love is like an unforgiving ocean, often wild and untamed, yet it comes with a fierce and unrelenting passion. In moments between the two of you, he seeks to plant his lips on yours, as though your kiss is a battlefield conquered by him, a well-done victory even. 

With each kiss on your lips is a vow, a vow that he’ll see to it that he gets to see the light of day after every battle, to see you by the end of the tunnel and show you that you won’t lose him that easily. For in your presence, he found his salvation, the arm that reaches out to him to pull him out of the abyss he’s in, guiding him out of the unforgiving ocean that seems to drown him whole. 

And so, he’ll never stop kissing you, regardless of where you are and the circumstances. 

“Were you watching me?” He asks eagerly, running up to you before planting a kiss on your lips, his hands that are scarred from the numerous weapons he held and the battles he fought in find themselves cupping your cheeks. 

When he pulls away, he looks at your eyes with a cheeky grin. “I did great, didn’t I?”

Known for his works and talent, KAVEH is no doubt a respectable man around the land of wisdom and scholars. Many would sing praises to his masterpieces and his original ideas that bring potential to Sumeru. As what a certain scribe would describe him, he is the light of Kshahrewar and a master builder and craftsman. 

However, such a bright reputation hides a man whose heart is tender and emotionally fragile, with too much on his plate. Which is why he is ever so grateful to have you by his side through it all.

For every affection the two of you share, Kaveh feels like the luckiest man in all of Sumeru – no, in Teyvat even. He doesn’t feel like he deserves you, a person who loves him for all that he is. With you, he feels cherished and appreciated even, and you balance his emotional fragility with your presence that seems so encouraging and comforting.

He seeks refuge in your affection, often cupping your cheeks and giving you a kiss. His kisses are frequent, and his lips often find themselves on yours. Each of his kiss is full of love, and there’s no doubt that there seems a desperation laced in it, as if he’s scared that this kiss is his last, and you might be gone before he knew it – just like his loved ones. 

Yet, in the softness of your lips, he found reassurance. He’s reminded that amidst the struggles of his life, your relationship remains timeless and true. Just like how he does with his work, he pours his heart and soul into your relationship together, cherishing the bond that you both have towards one another with  tenderness.

“Thank you.” He said, kissing you on your lips with a look that threatens to crumble. “I know I’ve said it too many times, but I can’t help myself. I really am grateful.” 

When you ask for what he’s thanking you for, he could only give you a smile, a sight that shines far brighter than the sun itself.

“Thank you for staying.”

You’d be lying if you said you’ve always thought you’d end up dating the notorious Cavalry Captain, who is more than often a flirtatious man whenever you’re around. KAEYA is not one who shies away from something, and if it means reminding you every now and then that he’s into you, then so be it!

Every waking moment with Kaeya is a thrilling challenge, and you two often find yourselves in a dance of wits and flirts, with a few glasses of wine and other drinks that the tavern sells. The two of you know how to push the other’s buttons, often playing banters and all. Even when you two are now dating, things are still the same – besides the fact that the two of you are free to kiss one another and often crash at each other’s places. 

Yet underneath such playful flirting and bantering, there’s a deep and abiding connection between the two of you that remains unspoken but welcomed.

Unsurprisingly, Kaeya finds home in your lips. To him, it just felt right. Sure, he likes to kiss your hands and cheeks, but it’s a different story when it comes to your lips. For him, stealing a kiss on your lips is not just an ordinary gesture of affection, but rather a declaration of his unwavering love for you. 

And so, more often than not, he prefers kissing you more on your lips.

With a teasing look and smirk on his face, he’d pull you close towards him without warning, his lips finding yours with an urgency that left you both breathless. There’s often laughter and desire lingering around the privacy of your bedroom, and it was a safe sanctuary that Kaeya finds comfort in. 

His laughter would fade into a whisper of “I love you”’s as he traces his cold fingertips on your face that he loves to see at every waking moment. He cherished these kinds of moments, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t spend each one as if it’s his last. And so, he continues to give you more kisses to drown your sweet laughter, for in your warmth and embrace, he could only find his great happiness and peace. 

“Come on, give me another one.” He chuckles, urging you to let him give you one more kiss before the two of you can sleep in each other’s arms. “Just one more kiss, I promise.”

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @miss-lady-witch @yashe @imkaaayy @badlywrittens @0rah-s @totallynotaraidensimp @garlicforthewin

[youthereader]

After the Roar

pairing: general acacius (gladiator ii) x fem!reader

summary: 1.9k words. After a brutal day on the battlefield, General Acacius returns to his quarters to find you waiting—naked but adorned in gold and scented oil, a gift meant to ease his mind.

rating: E for explicit smut. Gentle dom!Acacius. Courtesan!Reader. Rough sex. Dirty talk. Praise kink.

a/n: thank you to @indulgence-be-thy-name for the encouragement (●'◡'●) this is my first time writing this character, I'm a little nervous tbh

He sees you and smiles.

Not a smirk. Not a leer. A genuine smile, weary at the corners, deepened by a day that has clearly cost him—but a smile meant just for you.

“Ah,” he says softly, pausing just past the threshold. “So the rumors were true.”

You lift your chin an inch. “Which rumors?”

“That someone had left me a gift. A jewel wrapped in scent and skin.” His eyes trace your naked body openly, without shame, but with something softer than hunger. “They didn’t mention how beautiful you were.”

You let the compliment settle. Your fingers curl lightly against your hip.

He doesn’t rush to undress. Doesn’t pounce or paw. Instead, he sinks into the low couch opposite yours and exhales as though just sitting down is a kind of surrender.

His legs part slightly, wide enough to anchor him. His arms drape across his thighs. The firelight glows against his armor. “And your name?” he asks.

You give it, quiet but clear. He repeats it once, like he means to memorize it.

“Where does your family hail from?”

You smile, tilting your head. “You want a history lesson, General?”

“I want to know the woman who waited here for me. Not just her skin, but her day. Her thoughts. The sound of her voice when she speaks about home.”

It shouldn’t affect you as much as it does. You shift, heat blooming between your legs even as you answer his questions—about your family’s village, your mother’s garden, how the day was warm and quiet until the bells sounded his return.

He listens.

Really listens.

“Would you like to make love to me?” you ask, finally, quietly, letting the words brush the air between you like a silk ribbon.

He leans forward.

It’s not lust you see in his eyes—though it simmers there, unmistakable. It’s something gentler, heavier. A kind of gratitude.

“I’ve seen too much today,” he says. “Things I’ll carry until I die. And still, the gods saw fit to send me you.”

You blink. You’re used to desire, but not tenderness.

His palm cups your cheek, warm and steady, reverent.

“You’re very kind,” you murmur.

His thumb brushes your lower lip. “You’re very soft.”

Then his hand dips lower. You part your legs for him instinctively as his fingers trace over your slick folds. One touch and he hums deep in his chest.

“You have a soft little cunt,” he murmurs, more like a confession than a compliment.

You preen, just a little. The words thrill you in a way you don’t expect.

His hand lingers a moment longer, stroking you idly while you lie back for him—arms open, legs parted. He takes in the sight of you, oil-lit and gleaming, and slowly rises from the couch.

He doesn’t move to touch you right away.

Instead, he sits back, the firelight gilding the sweat on his brow. You can see the exhaustion tugging at his posture, the remnants of blood on his knuckles and collar. But there’s a steadiness in his gaze that holds you—keeps you open, still, waiting.

Then, without a word, he stands.

You do not watch him undress.

It isn’t modesty. It’s something else. A kind of offering. A quiet trust. You close your eyes and lie back, the scent of rose oil thick in your hair, and listen.

The soft scrape of his fingers at the leather straps.

The low creak of buckles, followed by the heavy thump of armor being set aside—one piece at a time.

Greaves. Bracers. Breastplate. Each movement deliberate, unhurried. You imagine the weight leaving his body, inch by inch, like the day being peeled off him.

There is silence when the last piece hits the floor. Not a breath, not a step.

And then—you feel it.

The air between you shifts.

You open your eyes just as he climbs onto the couch, knees planted on either side of your hips, settling above you with a gravity that feels less like pressure and more like fate.

You exhale slowly, meeting his gaze.

He is bare now. Broad shoulders painted in the amber flicker of firelight. Scars and shadows. His face is worn but unguarded, and something tender glimmers there—something real.

Your noses brush.

It’s the lightest contact, but it makes your breath catch.

His hand comes to your cheek again, gentler this time, thumb stroking the curve of your jaw. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. The war is still behind his eyes,] but here he is something else. Not the general. Not the god, only a man.

Your are his chosen peace. You lie beneath him, framed in soft oils and firelight, and ask it barely above a whisper:

“Would you like me to suck your cock?”

His breath catches—a subtle hitch. Then his smile comes slow and fond, the kind a man might wear when looking at something too lovely to ruin.

He leans down, his nose brushing yours again, tracing the shape of your cheek. The barest graze of lips near your temple.

“Perhaps another time,” he murmurs, voice thick with promise.

Another time.

The words bloom low in your belly. A thrill not just for the refusal, but for the fact that he imagines a next time at all. Then—finally—he kisses your mouth.

It’s not rushed. Not sloppy. It’s full and lingering, his lips pressing into yours like he’s tasting the last bite of something sacred. He drinks from you like he needs it, like the day has stolen too much and you’re the only thing that gives some of it back.

When he starts to rock against you, it’s with practiced slowness. His cock brushes over your folds, thick and hot, dragging slick across your cunt. He doesn’t push in—not yet. He teases you, again and again, until your hips rise for him, until you moan without artifice.

Not a performance. Not coaxed or commanded.

When he finally thrusts inside, it’s deep.

He groans above you, forehead falling to yours for a moment. 

“You’re so warm,” he breathes. “So tight.”

It starts gentle—two bodies finding rhythm—but it doesn’t stay that way.

He grips your hips harder than you expect, his strokes deepening, speeding. The kindness in his voice lingers, but it’s laced now with something primal. Something that takes.

He fucks you rougher than you imagined he would.

He’s still quiet about it—no shouting, no filthy commands—just the steady press of flesh and the occasional low grunt, like he’s trying not to come too soon.

At one point he shifts, pulling out to flip you over, his hands strong and sure.

You let him, breathless, heart pounding. He draws your ass up, guiding you onto your knees, pressing your spine down with one firm palm until you arch for him—open, slick, ready.

Then he’s inside you again, deeper now.

The sounds between you grow wetter, filthier. His stamina doesn’t falter. If anything, he fucks harder, like he’s chasing something beyond release—something carved into him by blood and war and the desperate need to feel alive again.

You lose track of time.

Pleasure rolls in thick waves, climbing and cresting until your body writhes under him, every nerve lit.

Still, he doesn’t finish inside you.

When he withdraws, it’s with care. His hand strokes your hip, grounding you, and he spills onto the curve of your ass—grunting softly as he spends himself, a courtesy not lost on you.

You collapse to your side, breath ragged, skin humming.

And he follows, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest like you’re something precious.

Not a whore. Not a reward, but a balm.

You lie there boneless, breath slowing, cheek pressed into the warm place where his shoulder had just been.

He doesn’t rise immediately. Instead, he lingers behind you, his hand tracing idle shapes into your side. Not possessively. Not for show, just… present.

He moves.

You hear the rustle of cloth, the soft splash of water poured into a basin. When he returns, he sits beside you and runs a damp cloth gently over the swell of your ass, wiping away the mess he left. His touch is careful, almost ceremonial. You bite your lip.

He doesn’t speak while he cleans you.

Just works slowly—thighs, belly, even between your legs, as though you’re something sacred he’s been entrusted to care for.

When he’s finished, he returns behind you. One arm curls under your head, the other rests across your hip. You’re tucked against his chest like this was always the plan.

You’ve barely let your mind drift when he speaks.

“Are you satisfied?”

You blink.

Your head tilts up slightly, confused. “What?”

He’s looking at you plainly, gaze steady. His face is close. He’s not joking. Not performing.

“I like to be sure,” he says, voice low, intimate. “That you came. That you enjoyed it.”

“I—” you begin, only to stop. You had. More than once. You’d cried out for him without thinking. But no one’s ever asked before. Not like that.

You’re not sure if it’s the wording or the sincerity, but your face warms.

Before you can gather a reply, he adds—

“I like to taste a woman.”

Your lips part. You don’t breathe for a second.

He smiles—slow, knowing. “If you want another…” His fingers drift lightly between your thighs again, grazing your inner lips. “You only need to ask.”

The blush deepens. It spreads down your throat, your chest. You genuinely can’t remember the last time you reacted this way.

He chuckles softly, amused but kind. “What’s this?” he murmurs, thumb brushing your flushed cheek. “A courtesan who blushes?”

“I just…” You look down. “I didn’t expect you to be this good.”

“At fucking?” he teases.

“At everything,” you murmur, eyes flicking up to meet his. “You’re the best customer I’ve ever had.”

He hums low in his throat, clearly pleased. “Then I suppose I’ll have to see you again.”

Your heart jumps.

He leans in and kisses the edge of your jaw, then your mouth, and for a while you just lie there in his arms, wondering how this night became something you’ll remember for a long, long time.

-

The sky is still soft with the pale grey of morning when he rises.

You hear the rustle of linen and the quiet clink of his armor being redressed. This time, you do watch.

His movements are practiced—efficient but not rushed. His bare back flexes with each strap fastened, each buckle tightened. He moves like a man who’s done this a thousand times before, and will do it a thousand more. But there’s a softness in his face when he turns back to you.

You haven’t moved from the bed. The sheet is still tucked under your arms, your hair messy with oil and sleep, your lips kiss-bitten.

He comes to your side one last time.

No fanfare. No crude farewell.

He leans down and brushes his lips against your cheek—warm and chaste, but far more intimate than anything he could’ve said. His thumb strokes once beneath your eye.

“Rest well,” he says.

And then he presses something into your palm.

You glance down as he walks out. When you open your fingers, there are two gold coins instead of one.

Your breath catches.

One for the night. One for… what? The conversation? The kisses? The way he looked at you like you were more than silk and service?

You hold the extra coin to your chest and lie back, cheek brushing the pillow where he’d slept.

The scent of him lingers there.

You close your eyes with a quiet smile.

Let me know if you enjoyed this one! I loved writing him this way. I might write some more if the inspo comes my way.

[vodika-vibes]

Stolen Hearts

Summary: Hardcase has a problem. And the problem is that the new Medical Officer on the Resolute is a thief. What has she stolen? His entire heart.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Hardcase x F!Reader (pre-relationship)

Word Count: 963

Warnings: None

A/N: I was in a Hardcase mood, so this was born. I hope you like it~

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

“Honestly, Hardcase,” He opens his eyes to squint at the white-clad woman standing over him, “What were you thinking?”

Hardcase blinks at her, twice, and then a sheepish grin crosses his face, “Will you be mad if I say I wasn’t?”

She sighs and presses a hand to her head; she’s recently painted her nails a pretty shade of blue that matches his armor. Fuck, he wants to kiss her.

Wait…that might be the concussion talking.

“I wouldn’t be mad, Hardcase. I’ve come to expect this kind of nonsense from you and your brothers.” She drops her hand back to her side, and favors him with the tiniest of smiles, “I think Kix got all of the common sense on this ship.”

“Not all of it,” Hardcase counters immediately, “Rex has some too.”

“The fact that the good Captain is also nursing a concussion suggests differently to me.” She counters dryly.

“Oh, for real?” He tries to sit up to look at the other beds, only for her to push him back down, “How’d you get to be so strong?”

“I’m not strong, Hardcase. You’re just very concussed right now.” Her hand, so warm and soft, presses against the side of his head, “How’s your head feeling?”

“...fuzzy.” He replies honestly, “And a little achey.”

“Well, the pain will fade when the medicine kicks in.” She murmurs, “I’m not sure what’s causing the fuzziness, though.” She leans back, her hand moving from his cheek to settle on his chest.

Logically, Hardcase knows, she’s doing it to keep him from trying to move and hurting himself more. But right now, he’s stuck on the fact that her warm hand is pressed against his chest.

“Wow, your heart is racing,” She murmurs, “You feeling alright Hardcase?”

“Yup! Perfectly perfect!”

Her eyes move from the monitor to scan his face, a doubtful expression on her pretty face, “I think I’m going to take an EKG…just in case. Is that alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.” Okay, he didn’t mean for his voice to come out that strangled, but he doesn’t think she noticed. At least, she doesn’t look any more concerned.

But, when she favors him with a bright smile, Hardcase swears he feels his heart skip a beat. “Great! Better safe than sorry, no?”

“Yeah. Totally.”

She lightly pats his chest, “I’ll be right back. Try not to move.”

And then her hand, and her warmth, is gone.

Hardcase lifts his head to watch her vanish into a storage room on the other side of the MedBay, and then he turns a glare to Kix, who is shaking from repressed laughter.

“You’ve got it bad, vod.”

He groans and falls back on his pillow so he’s able to drape his arm over his eyes, “Shut up.”

“I can’t believe you agreed to an unnecessary medical test,” Kix continues, a grin in his voice.

“Shut up, you’re annoying Kix.”

“That’s my right as big brother.” He doesn’t have to sound so smug about it, though.

“You didn’t tell me you hired a heart thief,” Hardcase grumbles.

“Yeah, you’re unique in that, vod.”

“Shut up, she’s perfect.” He drops his arm and glares at his brother, “I’ll fight you for her.”

“I’m not fighting you.”

“Cause you’ll lose.”

“No, because you have a concussion, and it wouldn’t be fair dipshit.” Kix lightly flicks Hardcase’s nose, pulling a disgruntled noise from him.

“Hey! Stop abusing my patients!” His heart skips another beat when she returns, a droid trailing behind her.

“Ah, but you see. He’s an idiot, and he needs to know.” Kix replies cheerfully.

“Abuse your brothers outside of the medical bay, Kix.”

“Ah, so I have your permission.”

She rolls her eyes, “I know that they give as good as they get, so I’m not worried. Shoo.”

Hardcase stares at her, his jaw slightly slack, “Did you just shoo Kix?”

“Yeah. He’s used to it.” She replies distractedly as she turns to the droid. “Anyway, the EKG shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes, and then I’ll let you rest—”

“I love you,” Hardcase interrupts.

Across the room, Kix bursts into laughter.

To give her credit, she looks momentarily thrown before a tiny smile lifts her lips, “That’s the concussion talking, Hardcase.” Her voice is very gentle and kind, and Hardcase falls in love with her even more.

“I’ll still love you when I don’t have a concussion.” He counters, “I loved you before the concussion, and I’ll love you after it.”

She looks amused for a moment, and then she sits on the stool next to the bed and rests her arms next to him, “Tell you what. If, when the concussion clears,” here she pauses and holds up a finger, “Fully clears, per myself or Kix, and you still feel the same way, I will go on a date with you when we return to Coruscant.”

Hardcase stares at her, “Clarity,” He finally says, “You’re not just saying this to make me feel better? You mean it?”

“Every word. We’ll go to the Aquarium, it’ll be fun. But only if you still feel the same way.” Her smile widens, “If, when the concussion clears, you don’t love me, then we’ll cancel. With no hard feelings.”

“Deal!”

“Good. Now, I need to attach these electrodes to your chest, may I?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“So agreeable,” She sounds pleased about that fact, which is all Hardcase wants, really.

And then her small hand slips under the collar of the hospital shirt he’s wearing, and Hardcase can feel his face start to burn with flustered embarrassment. 

“Ah, you’re cute, Hardcase.” Her voice is soft, but there’s a tiny smile on her lips, and he thinks that, just maybe, he has more of a chance than he feared.

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[a-headless-angel]

What fragrances would the Hazbin Hotel cast wear?

Ever wondered what your favorite Hazbin Hotel character would smell like?

No? Well, too bad, because now you’re about to.

As a former fragrance enthusiast, someone who spent way too much time sniffing tiny paper strips at department stores, I’ve decided to use my expertise to answer the real questions: what perfumes and colognes would the Hazbin Hotel cast wear?

Some of these choices make sense and some are unhinged. Let’s begin this psychological warfare analysis.

First up:

Charlie – KILIAN I Don’t Need a Prince to Be a Princess

I Don’t Need a Prince to Be a Princess is basically marshmallows in a bottle: sweet, fluffy, and comforting, much like Charlie herself. The notes? Vanilla, benzoin, and a touch of green tea, making it smell like a hug wrapped in a bedtime story. It’s innocent yet oddly addictive.

Vaggie – CHANEL Chance Eau Tendre

CHANEL Chance Eau Tendre is the perfect fit for Vaggie. It’s fresh, clean, and perfect for someone with a sporty, no-nonsense personality. It smells like someone who will absolutely win an argument (and a physical fight). With crisp grapefruit, delicate jasmine, and a soft, musky base, this perfume has that effortless "I just stepped out of the shower" scent.

Alastor- Raid

Self-explanatory. I mean he could wear a high-class vintage cologne, but why bother when raid is more effective at clearing a room? He’ll occasionally use the lemon scented one though.

Husk – Nautica Pure Blue Toilette (Present Day) / Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille (Overlord Days)

There was a time when Husk smelled like expensive cigars, aged whiskey, and power. But now, he sprays himself with whatever cologne was cheapest at the gas station. Nautica Pure Blue is the olfactory equivalent of “I don’t give a f*ck” and “I lost a bet.”

Angel - Victoria’s Secret Bombshell

Now you may be asking yourself, why Victoria’s Secret Bombshell? because he IS the bombshell. It’s sexy, flirty, and lingers in a way that makes everyone wonder, Why does it smell like sin and bubblegum in here? Subtle? Absolutely not. But then again, neither is he.

Sir Pentious - Axe body spray

Once saw an ad that Axe attracts all the ladies. Spoiler: it did not.

Nifty- Moschino Fresh Couture

Niffty picked this perfume for one reason and one reason only: the bottle looks like a cleaning spray. That’s it. That’s the entire reason.

Moschino Fresh Couture comes in a Windex-style bottle, which speaks to Niffty on a spiritual level. She has no idea what notes are in it. She just loves the bottle. And honestly? That’s reason enough.

Mimzy - Chanel No. 5

Chanel No. 5, the scent of a bygone era (a.k.a the grandma perfume). Classic, timeless, and so potent that if you stand too close, you will get a headache. Mimzy doesn’t apply perfume, she marinates in it. It’s all part of her charm (and why you can smell her coming from two blocks away).

Bonus: The Vees

Valentino – Dior Sauvage

Ah yes, the classic f-boy fragrance. The red flag in a bottle. The scent of toxicity, well-practiced apologies, and knowing exactly what to say to get what he wants. Dior Sauvage is the cologne equivalent of a smooth-talking incubus in designer shoes, and Valentino wears it like armor.

Why? Because it works. Because no matter how many times people warn about the guy who wears this, it still reels them in. It’s fresh, spicy, and undeniably attractive. The bergamot and pepper hit first, clean and crisp, tricking people into thinking he’s a gentleman.

But as long as he smells good all is well…right?

Velvette - Versace Crystal Noir (daily) / Baccarat Rouge 540 (special occasions)

Velvette is the queen of fragrances. Her collection is massive, categorized by mood and outfit. She could wear anything, but her daily signature? Versace Crystal Noir. It is dark feminine in a bottle. But for special occasions, she swaps to Baccarat Rouge 540. It’s rich, luxurious, and smells like money and power.

Unfortunately, Baccarat Rouge 540 has influenced Hell so much that now every nightclub, high-end lounge, and wannabe influencer reeks of it. What was once an elite, intoxicating fragrance has become so overused that Velvette can barely step into a club without gagging. If she smells it on a random low-level demon trying to act important? Immediate side-eye.

She started the trend. Now she regrets it.

Vox - Versace Eros

2nd red flag fragrance.

And there you have it folks, the Hazbin Hotel cast in fragrance form.

[tachiharastanacc]

Silly HD summer beach fic :D

Captain Fukuchi should not be allowed to drive, Tachihara decided. Maybe it was the fact that he usually traveled by missile or the fact that he always just slightly hungover, but frankly, it didn’t really matter to the teen. What mattered was that the jeep the captain had ‘borrowed’ from the base was currently parked in the middle of a public beach. And had three flat tires. And an empty gas tank. And he was pretty sure the breaks were malfunctioning.

It was an armored all-terrain vehicle.

If anything, it was almost impressive. If it weren’t for someone (read: Tachihara) using his ability to move the truck, it’d probably be crashed into the highway barricade. Being the only one who actually took and passed his driver’s exam, this all could’ve been avoided if they’d let him drive. But of course, the captain would never allow that since he was ‘on vacation’ and ‘supposed to be taking it easy, that’s an order!’

Which really just meant that now, he was A.) cranky B.) had sand in his hair and C.) had to deal with-

“Ta-chi-ha-ra~!”

Teruko.

The pink haired girl was standing before him, arms crossed. One foot was tapping impatiently on the sand. Though really, it was more of a ‘flapping’ noise than a tapping one, considering the hot pink flip flops she was wearing. And of course, no mildly irritating sound was missed by Jouno’s perceptive ears.

“Vice Captain, please keep that got awful slapping of cheap foam on sand to a minimum. You’re going to aggravate my senses and scare away my target.”

Tachihara blinked at that, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Huh? Your target? I didn’t realize we were on a mission.“

He stepped forward, only to be stopped by a warm hand on his shoulder.

“This is something Jouno and I must do together. It is a training exercise meant to build patience and teamwork.”

The strongest Hunting Dog (in terms of physical strength, which didn’t matter nearly as much as intelligence, according to Jouno) was wearing a purple Hawaiian shirt. In his hands were two plastic buckets filled with water.

“No, you dimwit. I’m not building anything with you. You’re just carrying my supplies since you decided to nose in my business,” Jouno huffed.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t even noon and Tachihara could already feel a headache coming on. Excusing himself from what was almost certainly going to be another fight, he padded his way back to the jeep. He loved his family, really. But sometimes they made him want to drown himself. In alcohol.

And then the ocean.

“Hey! Where are you storming off to?! I wanna build a sandcastle! Tachihara, come back! You don’t just…”

Tuning out Teruko’s chirping, the teenager rummaged through his back that was tossed haphazardly in the front seat. He hadn’t brought much- just a yellow and white floaty, his speaker, and a snorkel. According to the old man, there was a small reef about a mile off the beach. If nothing else, it’d be good to get some training in on his off day.

He slung his bag over his shoulder before slamming the door shut behind him.

“Tachihara! Why’d you run away, huh?! I was trying to talk to you!”

Ah. Teruko had managed to escape from Jouno and Tecchou’s situationship. Good for her. Less good for him.

“Sorry, Vice Captain. I just…”

He gestured vaguely towards his bag.

“How many times have I told you, don’t call me that when we’re off duty! It makes me feel old!”

One amber eye twitched slightly as he repressed the urge to roll them. “Sorry, Teruko. Force of habit.”

And also, when they first met, she’d practically ordered him to use her proper title. Then again, he’d also been a twelve year old prisoner, so maybe it felt different.

“Anyhoo…what’re ya up to? Because I can’t take any more dudes pining over each other and you’re embarrassingly single.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem!”

She continued to stare at him expectantly.

Drat.

“I’m going to check out a reef that gramps mentioned,” he mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t give me that look! It ain’t a trap or nothing. He didn’t even mention it cuz I told him we were comin’ here. It was actually a fact from a book big sis Higuchi gave big bro Akutagawa. But he didn’t want it, so he pawned it off to the old man ages ago. Actually-“

“Tachihara.”

He stopped, eyes wide. “Uh, yeah…?”

“…nothing. I think a swim would be good for you actually. Clear your head.”

“…um, I’m confused. I thought you wanted to build a sandcastle…?”

“We’ll do it after! Now go, you stupid dummy!”

She shoved him towards the water with unnatural strength. It actually hurt a bit, though part of it was definitely that he tripped over Tecchou’s now-discarded buckets. Discarded, of course, because he was now racing Jouno down the beach.

“So much for their mission, I guess,” Tachihara mumbled as he walked.

A glance back at Teruko confirmed she was no longer interested in him, instead pestering Captain Fukuchi, who was struggling with a beach chair and umbrella combo.

The one he’d been fighting with since they crashed on- er, parked on- the beach.

With a shrug, Tachihara figured he should make use of his recently awarded freedom.

So much for the strongest military squad.

—

Truly, Tachihara was grateful for the peaceful swim, because as soon as he’d returned, it was back to the chaos.

Teruko had demanded he team up with her for a sandcastle contest with the others. Tecchou and Jouno, back from what was apparently a fishing trip, were teamed up as well.

“You dunce! We don’t need a weight room for the sand army to train! That’s why I built the moat! I don’t have to see it to know what you’re planning!”

“Our sandmen deserve the opportunity to study the blade, regardless of their make or background.”

“What sand people?! We didn’t built any sand people?!”

Unlike the duo who were once again bickering like an old married couple, Tachihara was more than happy to just follow orders. Fukuchi, on a team of his own, was struggling to even get a single tower to stay standing until, finally, Teruko had ditched her own teammate (Tachihara) and gone to help the enemy (Fukuchi). Not that Tachihara was bitter or anything.

“Captain! You need to use water! Otherwise it’ll crumble!”

“Captain, stop! You’re flooding it!”

“Hey Captain, this isn’t water, it’s sake!”

…maybe he was better off on his own.

After the sandcastle contest, if it could even really be called a contest, Fukuchi and Tecchou set up a portable grill to cook the fish. Well, it was primarily Fukuchi doing the cooking and Tecchou slicing up the fish.

Not because Tecchou couldn’t cook, but because it would require Jouno also in the makeshift kitchen complaining about his choice of condiment.

Still, the grilled fish was refreshing in Tachihara’s stomach. He wasn’t picky on the best of days- he’d lived on the streets after all- but he was considerably less so after swimming around four miles and then being forced to win a sandcastle contest.

Bellies full of fish and beer (and to Tachihara’s embarrassment, a juice box Tecchou had brought for him since he couldn’t legally drink), the five curled up on the beach blanket Teruko had packed.

The Hunting Dogs were loud, obnoxious, a bit funny smelling at times…but they were still his family.

Tachihara yawned, pulling his towel around his shoulders. He was faintly aware of a large hand brushing through his hair as he closed his eyes. Part of him wished they could stay like this forever.

But of course, nothing is that simple for ability users.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 41 - A Bad Feeling

I forgot to put a chapter summary. Fever brain!

On AO3.

Naturally, y’all get jumped immediately. Fucking walking skeletons in armor. You accidentally pull a Brenden Frasier and jab the skull of one, only for the spearhead to stick in the eye socket and pop the damn thing off the body. And you get no time to try to shake that off before you gotta jab another one. Fucking skull-kebab. You sure are glad Lae’zel thought to start you with spears and not some dipshit sword. Stabbing things at a distance is a little easier.

Astarion whirls through the fight in a snarling, white and black blur. Seems especially vicious. But once it’s over and y’all stand around, poking piles of bones and armor, you sidle up to him.

“You good?” you say.

He wipes down his knife before sheathing it. “Just fine. Perhaps a bit eager to be done with all this.”

You ain’t sure if “this” is that fucker Raphael, the brainworm cult, or the ridiculous, underground goth cathedral.

You’re about to join in on the bitching session, but he moves off before you can say nothing.

Man’s worked up. It’s understandable.

Ain’t no reason for the twinge of hurt.

Shadowheart is all for heading right down the throat of the gauntlet. There’s a straight-shot hallway doing just that, far as y’all can tell. There’s also two other hallways that branch off, one to either side.

The group debates each, but you’re watching Astarion. Notice him pad towards the right-hand branch, frowning. Watch him scent the air. His scowl deepens.

“We wanna check the corners before activating them trials, right?” you say.

Shadowheart’s mouth opens. But the others is already nodding.

“Been ambushed in something a lot like this,” Karlach says. “Whole hoard of barbazu came screaming down this canyon. Broke my ax in one of them’s skulls, and had to use the horns on a severed head to hack my way out.”

A good half of the group gives her some real appraising looks. You rock back and forth a couple times to make sure your knees don’t go full jelly.

Shadowheart throws up her hands. Don’t quite stomp after y’all. Lets y’all walk along for several moments before catching up to you.

“Do you know what a cleric is, exactly?” she says. Takes you a second to realize she’s talking to you.

“Umhm?” you say.

“A kind of priest. One who channels the power of the god or goddess they serve.”

You ain’t sure what to say about that, so you only nod.

Shadowheart sighs. “My Lady is the source of my magic, Eleanor. I doubt this immortal general will go quietly, even if we find a way to remove that immortality. If we’re to better our chances, it would be a good idea to make sure all of us are as prepared as we can be.”

When you nod again, “Dark justiciars are second only to a Mother Superior. They hold the Lady’s favor. I could channel her power better than I ever have if I can claim that. Once I complete the gauntlet. You like staking the odds in our favor.”

Ah. She’s noticed that, huh? She’s trying to appeal to you to, what, help her?

For all her fucked up goddess seems to wallow around in, she is a god. You guess. Those are real things here (Gale used to fuck his) (fucking weird). And you do want to collect any and all advantages you can get, because there’s no such thing as a fair fight.

You look at her. Black hair cut into harsh bangs to frame her face. Her thick eyeliner, the scar over her nose and the almost…pleading in her green eyes.

She don’t need your permission. She don’t need anybody’s. So why is she so desperate?

“What you do with your life ain’t up to me,” you say. “I wouldn’t do any of this, but I ain’t you. If…I’ll support you. Whatever you decide, I got your back.”

If she decides to go through with it, well. You don’t know about the place enough to make a solid judgement. But if she hesitates, if that pleading is something else, she needs to know somebody will reach out to catch her. Should she need it.

Like you did.

The relief takes ten years off her. Her smile crinkles her eyes for the first time in a long while, and she gives you a clipped nod. There’s the woman who helped you.

Behind y’all, Lae’zel says, “Something smells of death.”

***

“—if I hear one more snide remark about my whiff of undeath,” Astarion whispers as y’all scuttle up to an open archway.

“You’re actually not as fragrant as I thought you’d be,” Shadowheart says. “For a walking corpse.”

“And you’re exactly as tasteless and tactless as I’d expect you to be, for a Sharran.” The last part said with an oozing simper.

You’re about ready to clock their heads together. Stupid fucking elves. Half-elves. Whatever.

“Do y’all need to go back to the hotel?” you say. “Because it sounds an awful lot like we need to turn this car the fuck around.”

It buys you a baffled second or two of squinting perplexity. Before Wyll creeps back out into the hall.

“Looks clear,” he says. “But I have a nasty hunch it isn’t.”

“It isn’t,” Lae’zel says. She’s stationed herself on the other side of the round archway y’all hide behind, and you can’t help but think it’s to get away from the bickering. Right now, though, she leans out to stare into the horror chamber beyond.

You caught the stink of it before y’all actually found it. Metallic rot and the almost-sweet stink of dead things. You caught one glimpse, maybe ten second in total, and stepped back before your stomach could process it.

You ain’t exactly a stranger to horror in an academic sense. You seen farm injuries and read about way worse. But an actual, human spine with a head still attached? Pink muscle and white gristle and ligaments half chewed off?

Like them beef bones they sell at the supermarket around the holidays. Just regular cuts of an animal, that’s all. Just meat, just a hog for slaughter. You dealt with all those.

Those didn’t have no ear attached. With a ring still pierced through it.

Fuck fuck jesus fucking shit fuck.

“It seems a good chance that this is the lair of the devil Raphael was talking about,” Gale says.

“It’s a lair of something,” Astarion says.

Karlach peers in again, giving it an almost thoughtful—in a pants-shitting kinda way—frown.

“There was a second story in there,” you say after gulping down excess spit. “Like a busted-off balcony. Think we can sneak off and find a way up there? Circle back around?”

Wyll nods. “Approaching from the high ground.”

There’s more doors down the hall. Got to be a way up. Cause walking right in seems a real fucking stupid—

“No more hiding,” something says.

Ain’t one, goddamn human thing about it. The voice is less a voice and more the impact of a hammer to the side of a face. An ax blade crunching through an arm. Screaming and squealing and mangling formed somehow into words.

You reach out to catch yourself before you can topple over. Even Lae’zel has to give her head a shake, blinking fast.

“Come in,” the thing says. “No use for the entertainment to run. Yet.”

“The fuck,” you whisper, voice so dry your throat clicks in the attempt.

None of y’all really say nothing else. No looks of agreement. It’s like a barbed hook jabs you through the guts, reeling you into the room on jittering legs. Past more body parts. Past a mound of pink and gray, rotten viscera humming with bloated flies and white, wriggling—

You force yourself to look straight ahead as a new gag catches in your throat.

The floor above done crashes down, at some point. A couple torches cast weak, orange light here and there, but leave a lot of the place in shadow. The deepest shadow is at the top of the smashed-down ramp.

It steps outta that rancid darkness. Huge. Broad. The air screams in horror around it, even before you register the skulls hanging like a beaded necklace over its thick chest. A bull-like face, eyes literally glowing a hateful orange.

“Holy fuck, it’s a fucking orthon,” Karlach breathes. You ain’t never heard her like that before. Even Wyll’s got a distinctly gray cast to him.

The thing’s got hands with three-inch claws on them. Inhuman feet, like a deer hoof the size of a dinner platter, but broken up like they was trying to shatter into grotesque fingers. The man-sized sword barely registers against all that.

“You’re too fresh for this place, aren’t you?” it says. Its breath is carrion stink and what you can only describe as battlefield rot: ripped bowels and blood and fear. It feels oily, somehow. Like rancid grease slathered over your skin. “There’s a hint of the surface to you.”

The fucks an orthon? you shove at the others, mostly a gibbering scream.

Karlach answers: flash of fire and a screaming sea of devils. Hulking shapes amongst them, charging through smaller enemies like a dragon smashing through a forest.

War devil. Carnage incarnate.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, you’re all gonna die. You made a bad call, finally.

Then them glowing eyes shift. Fix on something behind you. “You. Tiefling. You’ve got the stench of the hells about you. A servant of Zariel if I’m not mistaken.” It sniffs the air, a gross, wet noise like an oversized hound snuffling around a bloated carcass on the side of the road. “I’d know the stink of infernal machinery anywhere.”

Somehow, Karlach keeps herself steady (you wish you was bundled up in her strong arms). Looks straight at that thing and says, “What do you know of infernal machinery?”

The thing regards her a moment. Claws tap on the hilt of its giant, fuck-off sword. “Only what I smell. And whatever engine burns within you, it’s grinding to an inevitable explosion. Burning and fear; you reek of it.”

You can feel its attention on her. Slick and sharp and terrible. A horrifying anticipation.

Then the not-quite words sort of register, and you blink and look over. Karlach don’t meet your gaze.

What? Explosion?

Another snuffle. A pig around its fallen owner, tusks slicked with saliva as it chomps, chomps, chomps. “There’s something else, though. Cherries, musk. And sulfur.”

When it snarls your bladder damn near releases. Them eyes blaze like them hell pits over in Turkmenistan. Like an opening in the heart of a volcano.

“Raphael,” the thing bellows. “I can smell him all over you. Where is he?”

You’re gonna tell him whatever he wants to know. Do whatever he tells you. Go throw yourself over the railing outside and plunge into the depths just to get the fuck away.

You used to go blank something like this when the Pastor uttered your name. When Mother found you amongst the congregation or when one of the Aunts reached for you.

Shaking, panting like a winded horse, you look up. Though chattering teeth, you manage, “You. Uh. Know him?”

“That perfumed trickster swindled me. Trapped me here.”

He should die for that, you want to say. Want to offer to do it yourself. Anything to get away. Anything to make this thing not look at you, not notice you. Give it whatever it wants.

“I. I know what you mean. About him.” Got no corn-husking idea how the fuck you’re forming words, but somehow you are.

“Where is he. Spit it out. Now.”

He lifts that sword. Didn’t the Japanese make something like that? Made for taking down fucking horses?

“I don’t really know where he is right now. But maybe. Maybe we could help each other? With him? He done us dirty, too.” You’re not actually talking, so much as babbling. Barely aware of your own words. A little toggle stuck open and pouring out shit you can barely comprehend.

Shadowheart is all alarm, like licking a battery. “Careful. I’m not sure we want Raphael as an enemy.”

The thing laughs. It sounds like snapping bones and crushed skulls. “Bargaining, are you?”

And then he tells a story. Slaughtered concubines. Children. A skull as a…codpiece?

They got codpieces here. Oh look, a random detail you can latch onto, turn over like a smooth rock in your pocket again and again.

“You can do nothing,” the thing says. “It’s not just walls that keep me here. I am bound by a contract. If I leave this place, I will become Raphael’s slave.”

Of fucking course he would. Ratfuck sonuvabitch fucking devil’s asshole. That explains why the poncy prick ain’t coming down himself. He don’t want this guy dead, does he? Or not just dead. Cause bad people go to hell, so what happens to demons if they die? Probably some kinda desertion, for these fuckers.

You still send that question to the brainworm group chat. And yeah, devils just go back to hell when they die.

Raphael is using y’all to enslave this thing.

Jesus titty-fucking christ.

Shadows move above. Hellbeast ain’t alone. And you’d rather try to chew through a redwood with your teeth than fight this thing. Cause you’ll die. One hundred percent, y’all cannot win this fight.

“What’s the contract?” you say.

“What are you doing?” Astarion hisses in your ear.

“I got experience with contracts,” you say.

Filing them, mostly. Standing in as witness or backup to the witness. True crime shit or that youtube lawyer’s videos.

It’s a fucking hail mary, is what it is. But so far you are still breathing, and if that ain’t already a giant, fucking hail mary. Worst case scenario, you fuck up and get bitten in half in a few minutes rather than dying to brainworm cult or fucked up hyenas or some new bullshit later.

You glance to Gale. His lips is moving silently, fingers twitching in a tiny pattern. He gives you the world’s tiniest nod.

He’ll open a portal. Y’all might have a chance to run.

“Do you now?” the walking catastrophe says. It eyes you. Then sets the tip of the sword to the floor and rests its hands on it like an old timey cane. “Very well. It’s been some time since I’ve heard a proper grovel.”

And he starts to…sing?

It’s the wailing of the dying. The shriek of a man disemboweled alive. Screeching and sobbing as limbs are ripped off, ribcages smashed in. Torment and horror shoved into a sack and dragged over a pit of burning gravel and for the second time in twenty-four hours, you damn near piss yourself.

“Spill all the blood sworn to night; Silence all prayers, smother each rite. Wander Shar’s halls, hungry to slay; Leave no justiciar alive to obey."

You ain’t look at Shadowheart. Can barely keep focus on your body to stop it shaking to pieces.

“Leave none to hear it, then be set free; This is your oath. Swear, swear it to—”

It hits you like a crack over the head. Can’t say what, exactly, in that moment. But that instinct, that shining line snaps you in the face and before you can process anything, you slam through the bleating animal terror in your head.

“Stop!”

You ain’t especially loud. Voice ain’t especially sharp. Compared to the soul-shattering horror of that thing singing, you ain’t shit.

But you catch it off guard, you think. Probably ain’t used to being interrupted. And why would it? Fucking demon kaiju up there. Only a total dumbshit would do something that suicidal and oh, you was the dumbshit why would you do that?

“Oh fuck,” Karlach says.

The thing up there blinks its hellfire eyes slow. Almost placidly. And in the voice of a nuclear detonation, it says, “What did you just say?”

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 11: Gepard x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4812

Warnings: Afab!reader, childhood friends to lovers, uniform, sex in public, clothed sex, dry humping, much talk of marriage plans, this one is very soft and unproblematic lol

A/N: I love, love, love Gepard, you guys. Fun fact, actually, I kept pulling for him on the standard banner to no avail and I thought for sure I was going to have to wait until I got my free 5* pick at 200 pulls but then I finally got him on Valentine's Day this year! And Serval came with him so I took that as my sign that it was meant to be and she approved of our relationship. lmao

⭐

It was always easy to pick Gepard out in a crowd for a handful of reasons. 

The least of which was his considerable height which made him, quite literally, stand out amongst a population of citizens that didn’t skew much towards being tall. There were a handful of other men who evenly matched him and even fewer still who managed to surpass his size, but they were in the minority by a considerable margin. 

What further distinguished him from the rest was his hair. That pale blond wasn’t an overly common color one could find in Belobog, though certainly not unheard of. It was, however, something of a signature for the Landau family. All of them seemed to have it and the particular shade never differed all that much between them.  

So it was safe to say if you spotted someone who was rather tall with a boyishly tousled mop of soft blond hair atop his head, it was more than likely the Silvermane captain. And should you still have any doubts, the strong voice of conviction that he used to delegate his men and issue commands was another dead give away. There wasn’t anyone else quite like him wearing the pure white armor of Belobog’s militaristic armed forces who believed in what he stood for with quite so much steadfast tenacity. 

It makes it very hard for you not to smile as you work your way through the densely packed street on a sure trajectory towards the object of your affection. You’d caught sight of him further back at the far edge of the bustling throng of bodies, just as you always did, but now you were close enough that you could clearly hear him speaking over the general din. 

The final nail in the coffin comes when you sidle up alongside him much to the querious looks of the men gathered before him and he turns those striking, crystalline blue eyes on you. Even amongst his fellow Landau’s you’d never seen anyone with eyes quite like his. 

“Oh.” He blurts, clearly surprised at your sudden appearance beside him. “You’re already here? My apologies, I didn’t realize what time - -“

Giggling softly when he cranes his head around in search of any clocks in the immediate vicinity, you reach out to gently tug on the corner of his jacket and bring his attention back around. “Don’t worry, you didn’t lose track and forget about me. I’m just early, that’s all.” 

The tension in his shoulders immediately recedes, and Gepard fixes you with a small but pleased smile. “Ah, I see. I’m glad to hear it then. You had me a bit nervous for a moment there.” 

“It’s okay. I know how busy you are.”

“Yes, well …” 

Trailing off, he somewhat awkwardly turns his gaze towards his men again and you follow his line of sight to find them rather blatantly watching the scene play out. Shameless gossips, all of them. 

Not that you could really blame the soldiers for their interest considering how stringently upright and respectable their captain was, so getting to see him interact with a woman wasn’t something they were very used to. Even Serval, his older sister, was rarely seen with him despite her past ties to the Silvermane’s so it doesn’t exactly come as a great surprise that they would be curious. 

But it’s clear that Gepard isn’t entirely comfortable having a rapt audience like this, and he gives a deliberate cough to make sure they were listening. As if there were even any doubt. 

“I’m going to step away for a moment but you all have your orders. Make sure you don’t get distracted just because there’s a festival going on.  I’ll be back momentarily.” 

Turning towards you again to a masculine chorus of ‘yes, sir’s, Gepard politely reaches out to take your elbow so he can steer you away from the onlookers. You send them a quick wave over your shoulder but allow him to direct you where he wants, happy to go along with him wherever he might choose to go. 

The two of you had known each other since you were children, though it was kind of hard not to be at least passingly acquainted with everyone who happened to be in your general age range when Belobog had such limited space to offer its citizens. The reopening of the Underworld had returned the settlements' range back to its former reach though, and now there were even efforts being made to expand outward as well. And although you’d seen less of each other at the onset of adolescence and into early adulthood, there was still an infinite wealth of trust between you and him. If he suddenly said to run out of the city into the barren, frozen tundra beyond you wouldn’t have even thought to question it. 

Luckily he just pulls you away from the busy square and down a quieter side street though. You’re glad for it since you weren’t wearing anything heavier than a thick sweater to keep you warm, and you don’t think you’re up for a trek through the endless snowdrifts outside the walls. 

Stopping together just short of one of the many heaters dotting the street, he finally moves to look down at you again. It’s with a much more at ease smile this time and you can’t help the resulting pang you feel in your chest. 

It wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t always so tall and filled out, and you didn’t always have to tip your head back to look him in the face. 

You also didn’t always feel quite so compelled to tug him down for a kiss, but in terms of developments this one was still quite new. Even his strict father didn’t yet know about the recent change in the dynamic between you and his son, and there was very little that ever managed to slip under his radar. Perhaps he was just finally starting to slow down in his old age though. 

“You look lovely today” Gepard tells you in the here and now, giving his uniform a vague gesture with his gloved hand. “I almost feel out of place wearing the same thing I always do when you’re dressed up so nice. I’m sorry I can’t run home and change.” 

“I don’t want to hear another word about it. You look dashing, as always.” Pinning him with a sly grin, you reach out to slip your finger into the fur sash around his waist and give it a brief tug. “I like your uniform, but you already knew that. I’m not sure if anyone else pulls it off quite like you do.”

Eyes widening to accompany the faint splash of pink that creeps into his face, Gepard steps back from you with a surreptitious glance over his shoulder as if to make sure no one was looking. “Don’t joke around like that! My men are already whispering - -“

“Then let them whisper. Your father has to find out about us at some point.” 

“That’s not what worries me.” He insists, sending you a rueful glance. “You know this isn’t proper. If people start to suspect we’ve been … intimate before I’ve even asked for your hand, that’ll cause us both a whole world of problems.” 

Feigning a soft huff, you bring your hands up to brace them on your hips in an intentionally haughty pose. “There’s an easy fix for that, Gepard. Would you like to hear it?” 

He tips his head, blinking at you rather inquisitively now. “Certainly. If you’ve got such a great idea then - -“

Stepping into him and cutting Gepard off, you reach up to grab hold of his collar at the same time you bounce forward on your toes. Despite being both much bigger and much stronger than you, he doesn’t even pretend to fight it and just lets you pull him down into an eager kiss that makes him noise a soft little sound of surprise. 

He’s much too good and chivalrous, you think to yourself when his hands come up to politely curl around your shoulders rather than anywhere else he could have grabbed you. His upbringing shows in everything he does though, including the way he tentatively kisses you back as if you hadn’t already made it abundantly clear just how much you enjoyed feeling his lips on your skin. It seemed he was always going to let you set the pace though, at least until some inevitable tipping point was reached and he couldn’t help but let go of those pesky inhibitions holding him back. 

Oh well. That just meant you had that much longer to teach him a few more things before setting him loose on your body. And you were certain he’d take these lessons to heart because he was nothing if not resolute in every task he took on. You didn’t doubt for one second that love making would be any different in that regard. 

Finally rocking back to peer up at him, you give Gepard a great big smile. “Propose to me then. They can’t say anything about it if we’re already engaged, right?” 

Taking a moment to search your face with a glimmer of fond admiration reflecting in his steady gaze, the Silvermane captain eventually breathes out a slow sigh through his nose. “There’s nothing I’d love more, you know that. But there’s a certain way these things need to be done.”

“Such as?” 

“After I get permission from both our parents’, for starters.”

Now it’s your turn to sigh as you look up into his handsome face. You almost wished you had the capacity to be annoyed with him and his adamancy for following the rules, but you really just can’t find fault in it. There wasn’t anyone who embodied the spirit of the Amber Lord’s preservation quite the same as he did, after all. It was an admirable trait to have, even if you yourself weren’t much for upholding tradition or customs. 

“That little wrinkle you get between your eyebrows when you’re thinking too hard about something is very cute,” He murmurs, a fond note dancing in his voice now as he bends closer to place a soothing kiss to the spot in question. “But I still wish you wouldn’t fret over this so much. You have my word that what I feel for you is true and my loyalty cannot be called into question. It may not be officially sanctioned yet, but I’ve already sworn my vows to you as far as I’m concerned.” 

“I know.” You murmur, all but preening under his tender, doting affection now. “Thank you, Gepard. I’m just eager to be with you.” 

“As am I, rest assured. But we’ll get there soon enough. You just need to have patience, sweetheart.” 

Your smile takes on a mischievous edge as you bring your hand up to meaningfully tug on his jacket. “Then let’s do it. Come on, it’ll be fun.” 

“Right here?” He asks, incredulous. “You’re crazy. We can’t possibly do something like that in public. And I can only stay for a few minutes more before I’m needed back at - -“

“Please.” You cut him off, imploringly batting your eyelashes up at him. 

Visibly conflicted, Gepard opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it and closes it again. Grumbling a low sound under his breath, he turns his face from you as if he couldn’t bear to look for another moment longer without folding, but you could tell you’d already won. Those vows he’d spoken of had been sufficient enough for him to bend the rules just a little bit, as much as he was likely capable of. It wasn’t much once you got right down to it and you suspected this arguably small allowance caused him much more grief than simply waiting it out would have, but he was much too softhearted to say ‘no’ to you indefinitely. 

This part of your dynamic, at least, hadn’t changed one bit over the years. He’d always had a hard time not giving into your demands, going along with whatever cockamamie game or scheme you concocted even when he was nearly in tears while doing it. That just showed how seriously he regarded the tradition of marriage though, if he still refused to budge that last little bit even now. 

But on this one thing he was grudgingly willing to relent and he does indeed give in to the coaxing tug on his jacket with another low rumble, allowing you to pull him into the cramped alley you were standing next to. It’s noticeably chillier the further you move from the street heater but you trust him to keep you warm, just like he always did. 

You can’t help giggling an eager sound as you back up towards the wall when you deem that you’re far enough from the lip of the alleyway that you wouldn’t be easily spotted should anyone happen by. He obediently shuffles after you, bringing one hand up to firmly brace against the rough bricks just next to your head as he hunches close to cage you in. The other he uses to slip under your chin and tip your face up at him, that steady, tepid blue gaze meeting yours. Feeling your anticipatory excitement wind just that little bit tighter, you reach out to give his waist an encouraging squeeze. 

“Here should be fine, right?” 

“This is hardly what I would consider fine,” He grumbles back, resigned to his fate but clearly not entirely unwilling. “You’ll be the death of me some day if you keep this up. I hope you know that.” 

“As if I’d let you get away that easily.” 

Grinning, you once again rock forward and go up on your toes so you can entice him down for another kiss. It works, of course, and he bends closer to slot his mouth over yours with a stilted sigh. His lingering reticence quickly dissipates though as you work your lips over his, tasting him in such a full bodied head rush that it almost leaves you dizzy. 

The clean scent of him mixed with the vague smell of ozone swarms your senses and makes you want him even more, hungrily tipping your head to deepen the exchange. Gepard hesitates to do it, still ever mindful of where this was taking place, but he gradually opens his mouth to allow his tongue to come up and brush against yours. It had taken you about a week to convince him that this kind of intimate kissing wouldn’t break the rules so terribly that his father would disown him on the spot if he ever found out about it. And you bask in it now, relishing the warm push and enticing pull of his tongue as it dances with yours. 

At the same time you let your hands wander over the front of him to feel along the cool press of his armor, all the bits and bobbles on his uniform. You hadn’t been joking earlier about liking it. In fact, you really liked it and you were glad for his willingness to humor you while wearing it. He’d always been a cute kid with those sweet, sweet blues in his eyes and age had only improved on what was already there. 

But he’s much more reserved than you are about allowing his touch to drift any lower than where it’s somewhat possessively curled around the side of your neck, so you reach up to grab at his blocky wrist. Gepard noises a soft sound into your lips as you drag his hand down and redirect it to your chest. At first his fingers remain stiff and unreciprocal when you push the palm into one breast but then a faint shudder works through him to accompany the quiet rumble of a masculine groan. 

Carefully closing his fingers around the swell of your tit, he gives it a brief, groping squeeze to almost make your toes curl in your boots. He was always so gentle and hyper aware of how he handled you, which was a good trait for someone as big and strong as he was to have. You knew he could have hurt you if he really wanted to and it would have been exceptionally easy for him to do so, but the loyal captain had never so much as even raised his voice at you. He was the exact opposite of his father in so many different ways and his strictly disciplined self control assured you he would never become like the man who’d raised him. 

It was kind of sweet, in all honesty. How he insisted on treating you like fragile glass that might shatter in his hand if he wasn’t cautious enough despite your insistence to the contrary. He was much too soft for roughhousing. Always had been. 

But the more he kneads at your breast through the front of your sweater, the more comfortable he becomes with doing it. Just as every other time, after that initial uncertainty wears off, Gepard takes to it with natural aptitude.

His hands are big to match his considerable size and he makes easy work of palming the swell of your chest to squish and slightly lift it. Still exceedingly gentle, still mindful of how much pressure he applies, but so incredibly attentive to the task that you can’t quite stifle the needy mewl that crawls up your throat. You could feel the nipple slowly growing stiff and pebbled against the cup of your bra, and you finally pull back from the kiss to look up at him again. 

“Ohh. That feels good, Gepard. Keep doing it, just like that.” You encourage him with the softly issued, hushed praise as you dreamily slide your fingers over the gauntlet he’d been gifted by the previous Supreme Guardian. Each metal ridge and divot registers in your mind and yet you hardly even notice it at all when he was groping your chest like that. 

It seems to be the same for him on some level, and you can tell he doesn’t perceive anything other than you in that moment when he bends his head close to lightly press your foreheads together. The world may as well have come to a screeching standstill at that very moment for as little as anything else mattered, and you tip your face up slightly to better look at him from this angle. 

“You’re doing such a good job.” You tell him earnestly, giving your back a subdued arch to press your tit further into his hand. “I can’t wait to finally have you on our wedding night.” 

A low, long suffering groan rumbles out of him, eyes sliding shut while he rides out the faint tremor that seems to work down his spine in response. “Don’t say that. It’s already hard enough to behave myself when you’re so …” 

“So what?” 

His eyes open again to look at you as the hand braced against the wall comes down to hesitantly join the other in kneading your breasts. “So perfect. So beautiful and smart. And frustratingly clever too.” 

“Oh,” You breathe out when he lifts your chest in both his palms to pinch and squeeze at you more vigorously. “Is that what you’re calling it now? Clever?” 

“Yes. Trouble is probably more accurate but I was trying to be polite.” 

The two of you laugh at that, Gepard’s masculine rumble intertwining with your girlish giggles to create a truly harmonious sound that almost seems too good to be true. It was at times astounding how much you actually complemented each other, to the point where your relationship now seemed like a foregone conclusion in retrospect. Where he was unfalteringly honorable and stubborn, you were soft and playful. It was a good balance, you’d quickly come to find. 

And when you reach down to feel across the front of his neatly ironed slacks only to find him hard and eagerly straining towards you, you’re filled with a giddy sense of wonder at how you’d managed to coax him even this far. Doing this in the privacy of your little apartment was one thing and already an impressive feat. But to do it here, outside on the street where anyone could happen upon you at any time? It was downright unbelievable, or it would have been were you not seeing it with your own two eyes. Had you not been holding the weighty proof of his feelings for you in the palm of your hand. 

Feeling your cunt squeeze in anticipation, you tip your head back to accept the kiss he leans down to press into your mouth with a faltering groan. To get his pants undone you need to bring both hands together to work in tandem, and your lips hungrily push back against him while you work on the series of buttons keeping his placket shut. You’re admittedly a bit surprised he doesn’t change his mind right then and there, but just as with everything else once he’d made up his mind about something there was no going back on it. 

Taking your time, you carefully free him just enough to let his rigid length slip out into the open, making him hiss a soft sound at the chill on his skin. His cock bobs between your body and his, looking like it wanted to retreat back into the warm safety of his slacks but was just a little too excited to truly flag. Cooing a gentle sound of comfort at him, you shuffle close to throw your arms over Gepard’s broad shoulders and he gratefully wraps his around you so he can pick you right up off your feet. 

Once he’s got you secured to the front of him, he shuffles closer to the wall to pin you there. Your skirt is all askew around your thighs now, trapped in the press of your bodies as he settles comfortably into the space of your parted thighs with his cock pressed right up against your panties. This was as far as he would allow it to go, always insisting that the thin final barrier of your underwear remain until all of the customary criteria were met first. But oh, you’re so incredibly grateful for even that much as you shudder at the tight, hot press of him right along your slit. 

Sometimes it felt like he was driving you mad, and this was very much one of them. You could have screamed for him to just take you already, public decency be damned, when he starts up a slow, steady grind that has his stiff length digging into your cunt. It feels good as far as compromises go and yet it just makes you all the more eager to feel him touching you skin to skin, moving inside you rather than this. 

You move with him though, working your hips to help guide him and set the pace you want which he happily obliges. The intense look of concentration on Gepard’s face urges you to lean further into him so you can kiss over his brow, his temple, the bridge of his nose. He moans a breathy sound when his focus starts to slip because of what you���re doing and the power behind his thrusts picks up a notch to match that spike in his arousal. He was particularly sensitive after years of waiting with only his own hand for company, but something told you he’d still display this same lack of willpower even many years after you were married. There were some things even experience couldn’t change, and his puppy-like eagerness to please was no doubt one of them. 

Working your mouth lower to glance over his smooth cheek, you once again find his mouth and you coaxingly kiss him to encourage his efforts. Just as you’d expected, he does a sufficient job of keeping you warm like this, two bodies moving in near perfect unison with each other to reach the finish line. You hardly even notice the now distant chill as you rake your hands through his enviably soft hair and clutch him more firmly against you. 

A ragged, tortured sound slips out of him when Gepard eventually pulls back just enough to gasp into the scant space and you take advantage of that opportunity to nip at his bottom lip. He made you so hungry, so deeply irrational with want that you momentarily forget where you are. And you think the same goes for him because he presses his weight more firmly into you, all but flattening you against that smooth bricked wall as his hands travel lower to take greedy, grasping handfuls of your hips. 

If the chance of discovery were not so great you would have liked to simply reach down and guide him into your waiting cunt, consequences be damned, but you have to make do with simply pressing back on the rigid length digging into you to get your fill. You just become more wild with it as the seconds tick by, enthusiastically writhing in his arms until you can feel the gusset of your panties starting to soak through with slick. He really was driving you mad. 

“Keep going, Gepard.” You whisper to him, breath hitching in your chest to make your lungs stutter. “I’m getting close. Don’t stop.” 

“I am too.” He hisses back. 

It’s not hard to see he’s struggling against the exact same urges you are, his jaw tight with the clench of his teeth, but he admirably maintains his noble bearing throughout. No matter how wild or desperate your squirming becomes, he just keeps steadily holding you there against him while the distant sound of an ongoing festival drifts in your general direction from a few streets over. 

You realize exactly how dangerous this is, of course, and you’re sure he does too. Yet that doesn’t deter either of you from chasing your pleasure together, and your pussy achingly throbs when the motion of his hips starts to turn stiff and uneven. The way Gepard rattles a high strung sound of pure, unfiltered bliss into the still alley nearly sends you careening right over the edge, and you blindly clutch at him when the internal pressure starts to reach its breaking point. 

But he seethes, holding back his own release until the tension in you finally snaps and you cum with a jerky spasm. The immediate rush of live wire sensation has your eyes rolling back in your head while you whimper a frazzled yet deeply satisfied noise of pleasure, shaking fitfully in his hold until the spasms recede a drawn out moment later. 

It’s only then that he nudges you up a little higher to let his twitching cock slip out from between your legs. The strength he exhibits when he jostles you around like you weighed little more than a child, reaching under you with one hand to politely gather the back of your skirt out of the way, is incredible in its own right. There weren’t many who matched him in strength, even amongst the Silvermane’s, and that was never more apparent than it is in situations like this. 

Twisting your fingers into the shoulders of his uniform, you lean in to catch his kiss-swollen lips again, and he responds with a rumbling sound of relief into your mouth. He shudders almost instantaneously, wheezing through his nose while he impotently shoots off into the air, splattering the wall and the ground with his spend. It’s such a full bodied release that you can feel his orgasm working through him where you’re pressed right up against one another and you seethe a sensitive sound at the thought of how he might feel cumming inside of you instead. 

The worst part is that even though he always seems to feel it right down to his very bones he still recovers quicker than you, and you mewl a quiet, dreamy sound when he straightens from the bent kneed slouch he’d fallen into. Turning your face to drop it against his shoulder, you allow yourself a content hum of satisfaction that he mirrors back at you with a low rumble of his own. 

“I’ll say it again,” He murmurs, pressing his mouth against your hair in a lingering kiss. “You’re going to be the death of me at this rate.” 

Smiling and giddy, you force your body to cooperate even though it really doesn’t want to, sluggishly leaning back to look at him. “I’ll make it up to you later, Captain. Promise. But for now, would you like to go enjoy the festivities with me?” 

He pins you with a boyishly earnest smile, his lovely eyes dancing with delight. “Of course I’d love to. Nothing would make me happier, sweetheart.”

⭐

Cross posted: here

[belit0]

hi! can i request where during the warring states period izuna had his own assigned medical-nin that he would overly flirt with? he was known by the uchiha women as a big time player. he would often get with one of them, he would tell her he loved her, hookup with her, dip, and move onto the next target. reader knows this, not just from gossip but as a result from being around him since they were young teens. always witnessing it firsthand. she has high standards and rejects him each time while she’s healing him. he legit could be knocking at deaths door and still try to flirt his way back to life. izuna then pretty much tries every trick in the book only for reader to break his player mindset so she can teach him what she really needs from him :) also can i get some nsfw content at the end please where izuna fucks reader silly (you can never fully take the playboy out of izuna i fear JK) thank you!

I hope you can tell, with extreme clarity and by the length of my answer, that Izuna is the love of my life and writing about him fills my soul

Izuna groaned, head lolling to the side as (Y/N) pressed down on the wound at his ribs with more force than necessary. Blood seeped between her fingers, but she didn’t let up.

-If you wanted to touch me so badly, you could’ve just asked.- His voice was hoarse, but the smirk was there, infuriatingly intact.

(Y/N) didn’t dignify that with a response.

Instead, she applied the salve harder, earning a sharp hiss from him.

-You’re unbearable.

-Ah... but you always patch me up, don't you? Almost like you care.

-Keeping you alive is my duty.

He was in bad shape—his armor cracked, his skin torn, his body a map of fresh wounds to add to his existing collection.

And yet, even now, lying half-dead beneath her hands, he was flirting.

Typical.

Izuna Uchiha had a reputation, one that stretched far beyond the battlefield. It wasn’t just his skill with a blade that made him infamous—it was his way with women.

A whisper of his name in the dark, declarations of love muttered like sacred vows, hands tangled in hair, lips tracing promises that never lasted past sunrise.

And the worst part? They all knew.

The Uchiha women knew exactly what he was. A charmer, a player, a man who burned through hearts like a wildfire and never once looked back at the ashes.

But still, they fell.

Because Izuna made them feel like they were the exception. That his touches, his words, meant something only for them.

(Y/N) wasn’t one of them.

She had known him too long, had seen it all unfold too many times.

She had watched him spin the same words, the same smiles, and had watched women crumble for it.

She was unimpressed.

-You’re scowling.

Izuna’s voice dragged her back, amusement thick in his tone. She realized she had been glaring at him as she tightened the bandage around his chest.

-Probably because you won’t shut up.

He chuckled, wincing slightly. -If you’d just let me kiss you, I’d be too distracted to talk.-

(Y/N) shoved a fresh strip of cloth against his wound. He groaned, eyes squeezing shut.

-Sadist,- he muttered.

-Survival instinct,- she corrected. -You’re more tolerable when you’re in pain.-

Izuna grinned, breath uneven. -You wound me, (Y/N).-

She didn't reply, securing the last knot in his bandage before finally pulling away. His eyes were still on her, gleaming with something playful, something sharp beneath the exhaustion.

She didn’t understand it.

Why he kept trying.

Why, despite every rejection, every sharp retort, he kept coming back, kept throwing words at her as if one day she might let them land.

But then again… Izuna never lost, did he?

The next few weeks were no different. If anything, worse.

One day, (Y/N) passed through the training grounds and saw him leaning lazily against a tree, a girl standing before him, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. His hand lifted to brush a thumb along her jawline, his mouth forming words that made her cheeks bloom red. The next, he was strolling through the market with another woman at his side, his fingers grazing hers in that subtle, practiced way of his—always testing, always luring. And then, as if on cue, there was always the aftermath—a girl crying under a tree, her voice barely above a whisper, his name falling from her lips like a prayer unanswered.

It was always the same.

A cycle, endless, predictable.

And yet, despite all that, Izuna still sought her out.

-Y’know,- he said one evening, finding her by the river where she was washing bandages, -I think about you more than I probably should.-

-Not enough to change.- She didn’t even look at him.

He crouched beside her, dipping his fingers into the water, watching the ripples spread. -Change? You wound me, (Y/N). I’ve always been a devoted man.-

She scoffed, wringing out the cloth in her hands. -Devoted to what? Collecting hearts?-

Izuna tilted his head, his grin widening. -Only yours.-

She flicked the wet cloth at him, catching him off guard. He hissed as the cold water splashed against his freshly healed wound, but his laughter followed right after.

-But hey, let's look on the bright side.- He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting with something unreadable. -You keep indulging my attempts, and that means something. I still have a chance, hm?-

(Y/N) met his gaze, unflinching. -You never had one to begin with.-

Izuna exhaled, but there was no disappointment in his expression. If anything, he looked like a man who had just been given a challenge.

-We'll see about that.

It escalated after that.

He started turning women away the moment he saw (Y/N) approaching.

Once, she walked into the main hall and saw him with a woman leaning close, lips just shy of brushing his. The moment Izuna spotted (Y/N), he abruptly stood, gently but firmly putting distance between himself and the girl.

-I’m afraid I’m spoken for,- he announced smoothly.

The girl blinked. -By who?-

Izuna’s eyes flicked toward (Y/N).

(Y/N) stared at him, unimpressed, before promptly turning on her heel and walking away.

Another time, he sought her out at the medical tent, dropping a small bundle at her feet.

-What’s this?- she asked, eyeing the fabric.

-I don't want you to get cold,- he said, leaning against the doorframe. -I figured a new cloak might help. Something soft. Something warm.-

(Y/N) sighed, picking up the cloak and thrusting it back into his hands. -Give it to one of your admirers. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it more.-

Izuna only smiled. -No, see, that’s the thing. I don’t want to give it to them. I want to give it to you.-

-Too bad.- She turned away, already busying herself with supplies. -I don’t take gifts from men with wandering hands.-

Izuna chuckled, shaking his head. -You really don’t make this easy for me, do you?-

She glanced at him over her shoulder, a smirk ghosting her lips. -Shut the fuck up.-

Izuna grinned. -Oh my...-

-

Then, everything shifted.

One evening, as he tried yet another charming line, (Y/N) finally had enough.

-If you want me, Izuna, then stop playing games.- Her voice was firm, unwavering. -I'm not one of your conquests. I'm not something to be toyed with.-

For the first time, Izuna’s smirk faded.

He looked at her, truly looked at her, and something in his expression changed.

-

She slowly started to notice it, a silent revolution, something different—the whispers around the compound, the murmurs of disbelief that trailed in Izuna's wake.

The once familiar sight of him with a different woman at his side had vanished.

No more fleeting touches, no more stolen kisses in the shadows, no more empty promises whispered in the dead of night.

Changes were unfolding right in front of her.

The way he lingered around, the way his sharp, playful remarks had softened into something more genuine.

He no longer tried to fluster her with empty flirtations; instead, he brought her food when he knew she was too busy tending to the wounded to eat.

He walked her back to her quarters after long nights at the medical tent, never pressing, never asking for more than her presence.

It was unsettling, in its own way—Uchiha Izuna, the man who had spent his life chasing after conquest, now standing still, waiting.

She had tried to ignore it, to convince herself it was another one of his tricks. But the evidence was overwhelming, pressing against her from all sides, and eventually, she could no longer stay silent.

-

One evening, as the sun dipped low behind the mountains, she found him by the river. He was skipping stones across the surface, his expression unreadable, the usual sharp mischief absent from his eyes.

-You haven’t been yourself lately.

Izuna caught the next stone between his fingers, turning it over in his palm before flicking it into the water.

It skipped once, twice, before sinking.

-Maybe this is who I’ve always been.

(Y/N) folded her arms, watching him closely. -You don’t play with girls anymore. You haven’t been with anyone else. Everyone’s been talking about it.-

A slow exhale left him, his jaw tightening slightly before he met her gaze. -Good. Let them talk.-

She searched his face, trying to find the tell, the smirk, the glint of amusement that always lurked beneath the surface.

But there was nothing.

Just quiet certainty.

-Izuna,- she said, her voice careful, -why are you doing this?-

He took a step closer. -Because I want you, (Y/N).-

Simple, straightforward.

A clear statement.

She should have expected those words, but they still struck something deep within her.

-I told you before,- she murmured, -I’m not one of your conquests.-

-You never were.- His voice was steady, unshaken. -And that’s exactly what I'm trying to prove.-

He took a step, then another, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that she could see the sincerity in his dark eyes.

There was no teasing, no arrogance, just the weight of something real, something unspoken that had always existed between them.

He reached for her slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away.

She didn’t.

She stayed, rooted in place, watching as his fingers grazed her cheek before he leaned in and kissed her.

It was nothing like what she had seen him do before.

There was no rush, no urgency, no attempt to overwhelm.

It was soft, unhurried, a promise rather than a demand.

And this time, she didn’t push him away.

-

The night was quiet, the distant hum of the village settling into stillness as Izuna walked beside (Y/N), his hands tucked into his pockets, his steps easy, unhurried.

He had never been one for patience, never one to take his time when he wanted something—but with her, everything had shifted.

Their relationship, once built on deflections and sharp-witted banter, had settled into something softer, something certain.

No more fleeting distractions, no more empty pursuits.

Just her.

And for the first time, Izuna felt as though he had something worth keeping, worth holding onto.

-You know,- he started, breaking the comfortable silence between them, -I could get used to this.-

(Y/N) glanced at him, amused. -Walking me home?-

Izuna smirked. -Being the only one who gets to.-

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

The lanterns outside her home cast a warm glow against the night, flickering in the breeze as they reached her door.

She turned to him then, arms crossing loosely over her chest.

-You’re lingering,- she noted.

-I like your company.- His tone was light, but the way he looked at her—steady, intent—made her stomach turn in a way she wasn’t used to.

Her eyes searched his, trying to find a trace of his usual act, but there was none.

Just him.

Just Izuna.

Unguarded in a way that no one else got to see.

She hesitated for only a moment before exhaling, stepping aside to push open the door. -Are you coming in or what?-

Izuna didn’t need to be told twice.

He grinned, stepping past her with the easy confidence that had always been his signature. But there was something else in his movements now—something measured, something careful.

He leaned in as she shut the door behind them, his breath warm against her ear. -Careful, (Y/N).- His voice was low, teasing. -You keep letting me in like this, and I might never leave.-

(Y/N) tilted her head, meeting his gaze, her lips curving slightly. -Maybe that’s the point.-

For the first time, Izuna had no clever retort, no teasing remark.

Only the sound of his breath hitching slightly before he reached for her, pulling her close, his fingers brushing against her jaw before his lips met hers.

No fleeting charm, no practiced performance—just him, just them, and the quiet certainty of something real.

But then, the air shifted. The teasing edge in Izuna’s grin remained, yet there was something heavier beneath it now—something intent, something hungry.

He didn’t give her a chance to step away.

Not that she wanted to.

His hands found her waist, drawing her in as his mouth pressed against hers, firm and insistent.

It wasn’t like the first kiss, the one that had been slow and careful, full of unspoken confessions.

This one had fire, a pull she felt down to her bones.

(Y/N) responded in kind, fingers tangling into his hair, pulling him closer as her lips parted under his. A low sound rumbled in his chest when she bit lightly at his bottom lip, and his grip tightened. One arm wrapped around her, the other sliding up her back, guiding her against him as they moved blindly toward the bedroom.

She gasped when he lifted her—effortless, as if she weighed nothing in his arms.

His lips never left hers, only deepened the kiss as he carried her through the dimly lit space, the heat between them growing by the second.

-You're impatient,- she murmured against his mouth.

Izuna chuckled, a low sound. -I’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?-

Her response was lost against his lips as he laid her down on the bed, his body following seamlessly.

His hands found the ties of her outer layers, tugging them free with practiced ease, but never rushing, always leaving room for hesitation that never came.

She reached for his own robes, pulling at the fabric, feeling the warmth of his skin as it was revealed, inch by inch. He almost purred when her fingers traced along the lines of muscle, and she felt the way his body tensed under her touch.

-Teasing me now?- he murmured, voice rough with want.

-Yours never stops,- she countered, letting her nails trail lightly down his abdomen.

His lips found her neck, then her shoulder, tracing fire along her skin.

Clothes shed quickly between heated kisses and wandering hands, the space between them disappearing as they lost themselves in each other, tangled in passion, in whispered names and soft gasps, in a fire that had been simmering for far too long.

His breath was hot against her ear as he pressed in, testing, then deeper. -So fucking tight (Y/N).- A slow, torturous stretch, wonderful, that had her nails digging into his shoulders. -So fucking wet.- He groaned, low and wrecked, lips brushing against her temple.

-You kept me waiting so long, (Y/N),- he murmured, punctuating his words with a slow roll of his hips. -All those times you turned me away, made me suffer.-

She barely had a moment to respond before he snapped his hips forward, tearing a gasp from her lips, her body arching into his. His pace was relentless, punishing, yet deliberate—every movement calculated to leave her breathless, every thrust dragging her deeper into the haze of pleasure.

-I need to make up for lost time,- he continued, a teasing edge still clinging to his voice despite the strain beneath it. -You owe me, don’t you think?-

A shiver ran down her spine as he bit lightly at the shell of her ear, his hands pinning hers above her head, holding her still as he took his time unraveling her. -Say it,- he demanded, his voice a breath against her lips. -Tell me you want this as much as I do.-

(Y/N) refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer, tilting her chin up defiantly even as her body betrayed her. He knew exactly how to crack her, how to coax every moan from her lips.

It was infuriating, the way he always seemed to be in control, always one step ahead.

His smirk deepened when she tried to remain silent, tiny gasps finding their way out of her lips. -Still stubborn?- he mused, adjusting his hold, making her arch beneath him with a sharp intake of breath. -That’s alright. I have all night to make you admit it.-

Her nails dug into his back, a silent challenge, but Izuna only chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to the pulse at her throat. -You’ll say it,- he promised, teasing, relentless. -And if you don’t…- He slowed, drawing a frustrated sound from her lips before pulling back entirely, hovering just out of reach, the tip of his cock still resting on her entrance. -Then I suppose you don’t get to finish.-

(Y/N) gasped, disbelief flashing across her features as he stilled, watching her with dark, unreadable eyes.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, enjoying the power he wielded over her.

She writhed beneath him, the denial almost unbearable, but he wouldn’t give in.

Not yet.

-Say it,- he coaxed, brushing his lips against her jaw, featherlight. -Admit it.-

He started using his fingers, punishing her clit to a desperate point, only to stop at the right instant. With all the confidence of knowing the terrain, his digits slid freely up and down, generating all kinds of pleasure only to snatch it away in one pull.

She clenched her jaw, refusing, stubborn to the last, even as a tear of sheer frustration pricked at the corner of her eye. He moved his hips with restrained movements, gently rubbing against the inside of her pussy.

Just enough to make her feel it, want it, to break.

Izuna hummed, as if considering something, before kissing the corner of her lips, slow, teasing.

-I can do this all night, love.

Heat coils at the base of her spine, winding tighter with every deliberate motion of his hand. All of a sudden, he thrusts into her with violence, burying himself deep inside, while two of his fingers work relentlessly against her clitoris.

Izuna knows precisely what he’s doing—he always does. The glint in his eyes is wicked, his smirk all too pleased as he watches her unravel beneath him, hips twitching, body trembling as he drags her further into the storm he’s conjured.

Her pussy tries to milk him, clenching, pressing, her body going completely against her pride. She can't help the moans, the need, the desperation. -Look at that... how well you take me, how you clench around me…. Still so stubborn, even now?-

His voice is nothing more than a murmur against her skin, lips tracing the shell of her ear, fingers moving in a slow, torturous rhythm that sets her nerves alight.

(Y/N) barely manages to bite back the whimper threatening to escape, hands fisting against the sheets as pleasure crackles through her like lightning.

He’s relentless, precise, building her up only to steal it away the second she teeters too close to the edge.

-Izuna,- she gasps, a warning, a plea—she doesn’t even know anymore.

His chuckle is dark, low, a vibration against her throat as he presses a kiss there, languid and teasing. -Say it.-

She shakes her head, refusing him, and he rewards her with nothing but an empty ache as he stills completely, fingers slipping away with infuriating ease, his cock pulling out.

Her breath shudders out, frustration laced into every exhale, nails digging into the fabric beneath her.

-I have all night,- he reminds her, tracing a lazy path along her hip, completely unaffected by her glare. -Do you?-

Tears sting at the corners of her eyes, hot and humiliating, frustration coiling so tight she feels like she might shatter.

He brushes them away with his lips, voice nothing but a whisper. -Just say it, love. Let me hear it.-

Her resolve wavers, teeters, crumbles beneath his touch.

When she finally speaks, her voice is nothing but a breathless confession, quiet and shattered.

And just like that, Izuna rewards her.

Pleasure crashes over her in a tidal wave, fierce and unrelenting, leaving her gasping against him, clinging to him as he claims every last bit of her surrender.

Izuna hums, pleased, pressing a slow, claiming kiss against her lips. -That wasn’t so hard, was it?-

But for once, she has nothing left to fight him with.

[lyriumdrinker]

Extra Reading

Some very short emmrook fluff, with hopefully more to come!

I feel like most people's emmrook dynamics fall into either student/professor or idiot/smart. I have a lot more fun with the latter.

The smell of incense drifted out of her new companion's hallway, a warm glow peeking out from beneath his door, a stark contrast to the otherworldly purple haze that hung in the Lighthouse's library. They had returned from their trip to the Necropolis earlier in the day, the professor and his skeletal assistant settling in quickly. Rook prepared herself for a conversation that had become routine at this point- introductions, explanations, questions. Every one had gone differently. Bellara had been beside herself, the history she had searched her entire life for coming back in a blighted, twisted form hitting her like a punch to the gut. Davrin, on the other hand, had responded to the news with the verbal equivalent of a shrug. Based on her limited interactions with the man when they had retrieved him from the Necropolis, Rook was preparing herself to field a deluge of questions she was wholly unequipped to answer. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door, and it flew open in response a few moments later, Manfred standing in the doorway, hissing happily. 

“Come in!” The professor greeted her from the other side of the room, still filing the mountains of books he had brought into his new home. After organizing up the shelf he was working on to his standards, he turned to face her. When Bellara had suggested adding a master necromancer to the team, the image Rook had conjured in her head certainly wasn’t what stood in front of her now.  Initially, she had pictured a dour, silent figure robed exclusively in black and with a permanent scowl carved into their face. Instead, they got a sharply dressed, uncomfortably polite man who always wore a whisper of a smile. “How may I help you, Rook?”

“Just wanted to see how you were settling in, talk to you about what’s going on.” Rook responded as she took in the room that had seemingly apparated when Emmrich entered the Lighthouse. Two stories tall, lined with oak bookcases and centered around a spiraling staircase. Rook was unsure if the stone autopsy table in front of her was something Emmrich brought from the Necropolis or if the Lighthouse was able to sense the needs of its inhabitants. Emmrich went to sit at his desk, and motioned for Rook to sit in the chair opposite him. Manfred moved up the staircase, taking a pile of books with him.

“You did begin to explain the situation at the Necropolis, but any further elucidation you could provide would be welcome.” He answered, his hands motioning throughout the sentence to add emphasis. The various bracelets and rings that banded his arms softly jingled as his hands moved, creating a gentle chorus that underscored his voice. 

“Well,” Rook took a breath, preparing her speech. “The Elven gods are real. I disrupted the Dread Wolf’s ritual to tear down the Veil. The imprisoned elven gods escaped, and he got stuck in the Fade. Now the two that escaped are out there, blighted, and planning to conquer the world.” She had never had a way with words. The professor blinked at her, processing the information she had dumped onto his lap.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“You have a surprising amount of levity, given the situation.”

“I don’t really see much benefit in being a pessimist.” Rook shrugged, unsure how to explain how her apparent optimism belied the ironic detachment she felt from the world around her. Forged in the nihilism of the alienage and honed by the Warden’s flippancy towards their own mortality, her separation from the world around her was an effective armor, even if it often left her envying those who walked though the world unprotected, but feeling.

A loud crash rang out above them.

“Manfred.” Emmrich’s eyes widened with concern and exasperation. “I apologize, but I must excuse myself for a moment. I need to make sure he’s okay.” She watched as the professor walked up the staircase, disappearing as it spiraled higher. After a few moments, the itch that appeared underneath her skin whenever she had to sit still for too long surfaced, prompting her to stand and pace the room. The bookcases that lined the room drew her to them, rows and rows of books of mismatched sizes organized as neatly as possible. Trailing her finger on the spines, she read the titles as they passed by. A History of Necromantic Tradition in the Storm Age. In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar. Metaphysical Fade Theory and Practical Applications. Her finger stopped on the massive tome when she noticed the name of the author listed beneath it. Professor Emmrich Volkarin. 

Shit.

It was difficult to not feel intimidated by him. Despite his kind demeanor, she felt out of her depth when she spoke with him. More than once, he had used words she had never heard before and couldn’t guess the meaning of. She had only become literate a few years ago, and even then, it was by the most generous of definitions. Growing up in an alienage didn’t offer many educational opportunities, and after joining the Wardens, she had been taught the bare minimum necessary to finish her training. Despite her literacy struggles, she had always harbored a desire to learn more about the world around her, about the world outside the towering walls of the alienage. Originally, it was driven by spite and jealousy from her childhood- seeing the human children going to lessons in the Chantry, overhearing their conversations about what they had learned that day. Nonetheless, the desire had clung onto her into adulthood.

“Find something interesting?”

“Sorry, just getting distracted.” Rook snapped out of her thoughts, bringing herself back to the conversation at hand. 

“You’re welcome to borrow anything that interests you.” he offered as he sat back down in his chair. Rook tried to stifle the laugh that came out of her. The thought that she would be able to understand any of the texts that surrounded them was completely absurd. The Professor raised a questioning eyebrow in response to her outburst.

“I appreciate the offer, I just…” she trailed off before finishing her explanation, a hot tide of shame beginning to wash over her. Did she really want to admit to him that she would struggle to read even the simplest book in his collection? Her borderline illiteracy usually wasn’t a point of embarrassment for her, given the wide array of other skills she had. Fighting darkspawn rarely challenged one’s academic abilities. In this setting, though, without a sword and shield to demonstrate her other competencies, the deficiencies she did have felt glaringly obvious.  “I’m not much of a reader.”

“A pity.” Emmrich sighed, a slight air of disappointment gracing his dignified features. “Though, I often find those who don’t enjoy reading simply haven’t found the right book yet.” The slight waves of embarrassment that had been lapping at her feet began to rise, threatening to drown her. She had hoped her refusal would have been enough to drop the topic, and she wouldn’t have to make an ass of herself in front of 

Then, Rook reminded herself of who she was. Why was she embarrassed? Who cared if she could barely read? She could kill hordes of darkspawn with her eyes closed- how many literate people could say that about themselves?

“When I say I’m not much of a reader,” Rook explained, “I mean I can’t read very well. So, despite how interesting I’m sure many of these books are, I wouldn’t get much from them.” Emmrich’s expression softened, but instead of the pity she was expecting, he seemed to be embarrassed himself. Suddenly, a light appeared in his eyes.

“Would you like someone to teach you?”

[fsfghgee]

Hello, I want to ask you something about Bi-han and Sektor, what if Sektor met Union of light Bi-han? I would what's gonna happen between them?

— This cell won't hold me for long, Liu Kang. — Sektor kept her head high even while handcuffed and behind the bars of the small temple cell. — He'll come for me. He'll destroy everything and everyone that stands between us.

— I'm not your enemy, Sektor. I've always wanted only what's best for you two and the--

— Spare me your theatrics! You just want to control our lives like we're puppets. — Finding out that Liu Kang was a titan was a resolution for her. — First the Grandmaster, then my mother…

Liu Kang took a deep breath and turned his back on her. Leaving Sektor talking to the walls and the cells behind.

— I don't know what else to do, Geras.

"It's your fault Bi-Han is still like that!"

"It's your fault his mother is dead!"

— I just hope history doesn't repeat itself. — Geras worried about how frustrated Liu Kang was. — History cannot repeat itself…

"My mother is a fuckin' cook in a mediocre village because of you, Liu Kang!"

— What if…

"You will pay for everything you have done!"

— What, Geras? Did you have an idea?

— Your titan allies in the battle against the titan Shang Tsung brought with them uncorrupted versions of Sub-Zero. And one of them could be a valuable ally in Sektor's moral battle now.

— I see…

— Raiden's vision for his timeline was to abolish combat. His Sub-Zero had a humble demeanor and if Sektor met him…

— Could she rethink her actions? — Geras nodded. — That could work… But I cannot ask Raiden to once again leave his timeline vulnerable without such an important member for its defense.

— What if Sektor was sent there instead?

— "Liu Kang!!!"

— Stall him, Geras.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

— Damn you, Liu Kang! — Lost in the forest of a strange world. — You'll pay for this! — Sektor cursed the god of fire after being teleported against her will shortly after hearing Bi-Han's voice. Nothing in that place seemed hostile or threatening like the chaotic world of the titan Havik, but the hatred she felt for having been forced there made her hate the place a thousand times more. — Where am I?

Frustrated with the surroundings looking the same no matter where she looked and the inability of her armor to give her answers, Sektor ran after an exit following her instincts until she heard screams from what sounded like Vaeternians and the noises of an intense fight nearby.

— "I'll bury you in snow!"

— Bi-Han? — There was no way she could mistake that voice. And following the sound of those ice puns, she saw a version of Bi-Han that closely resembled her Bi-Han before he was transformed into a creature of chaos. Although the attire he wore was a light blue tone and noticeably simpler, this could only be another version of Sub-Zero.

She watched from behind the trees as he bravely fought against 4 Vaeternians and took down two of them before being knocked down.

— It's time for me to feed. — The vampire who seemed to be the leader of the attack flew towards the Lin Kuei warrior, eager to taste the supposedly refreshing and sweet blood of a cryomancer. But before she could satisfy her hunger, Sektor flew towards the vampire and incinerated her.

— I will take your wings, then your life for this affront!

— Who are you?!

— Your worst nightmare.

Surprised and dazzled by the fighting skills of the woman who was beating the two remaining vampires, Bi-Han just watched in silence as she took them down in a matter of minutes.

— Are you hurt? — Worried about the cryomancer who looked like a fragile clone of the man she loved, she helped him up.

— Argh… — Sub-Zero smiled at the impressive — and attractive — warrior who had come to his aid, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs and back. — A Lin Kuei could do no better.

Amazed, he noticed a certain familiarity in her and when he was ready to ask her name, she pushed him away.

— Watch out!-- A-ah!

— I will enjoy your pain! — The vampire lunged at her again, fast like a jet against the warrior in red who had been knocked down after being thrown by the same vaeternian against a tree. But before the vampire could finish her off, Sub-Zero hit her with an ice ball followed by an ice spear piercing her insides. The vampire gave her final groan and the cryomancer ran to help his savior.

— Miss, are you alright?

— I am. — Hiding her pain, she accepted his help to get up and smiled holding his arms as she looked at the vaeternian's lifeless body. — You finished her off just good. — Sek found it strange how he looked away from her, seeming disappointed by her proud look on him. — What? What's wrong?

— I take no joy in taking lives. Not even those of these types of Vaeternians…

— How can you say that? — Finding the sadness in Bi-Han's eyes strange, she moved away from him in disgust. — They use people like us as food! They don't deserve mercy.

— Not all of them are like that. Most Vaeternians feed on simple animals like we do. I must warn Nitara about these rebellious vampires attacking…

— Nitara? — Disbelieving, Sektor moved even further away from him. — Are you partner of that maniac?

— I don't know what you're thinking. But we are partners in peace between our realms and we've fought some battles together, b-but we don't…

— Enough! I don't want to hear you anymore… — Bi-Han found it strange how she spoke to him as if she knew him, but at the same time she didn't seem to know anything about him or the realms. — I don't know what's going on in this realm, but you're not the Bi-Han I know!

— Wait! Don't go… — Uselessly, he called out to her as he saw her running into the forest. And after losing sight of her because she had flown for a while, he found her sitting behind a tree covering her face. She looked so fragile and helpless that he longed to have her in his embrace. — You're not from here, are you? — Not waiting for an answer, he moved a little closer until she looked at him. — Our realm is quite peaceful, but there are dangers that can fatally encounter you if you are alone.

— And what is this realm?

— Earthrealm.

— Earthrealm? — Looking around, she tried to identify something in common in the middle of that forest with her homeland. — It doesn't look anything like… — Feeling stupid for taking so long to realize, she growled before getting up from the grass and punching the nearest tree. — Who rules this timeline?!

— Lord Raiden is the protector of Earthrealm and all the other realms that make up our world.

— Liu Kang sent me to another timeline?!

— Liu Kang? — Recognizing the name of the titan who he had been informed was a close friend of Lord Raiden the night he was invited to join the support army for the defense of his timeline, Bi-Han understood why she seemed so out of touch with the status of the realms in his world. — You come from Liu Kang’s timeline? I fought not long ago for the defense of your timeline against a tyrant named Shang Tsung. And recently there have been attacks by other evil titans on different timelines. — Cautiously, he moved a little closer to her. Still awkward, he avoided keeping his eyes on hers for too long, fearing that she would move away again. — It is not safe for you to travel through our timeline alone. Allow me to help you return to your home.

— Why would I trust a low-quality copy?

— Copy? — Surprised by the absurd use of the word. He repeated to himself in disbelief before rushing to hold her when she made to run again. — Hey! What do you mean by a low-quality copy?

— You are inferior to my Bi-Han in every way. — She breaks free from his grip angrily and Bi-Han lets her go, surprised by her ferocity.

— Your Bi-Han? Are you and my counterpart from Liu Kang's timeline… — Intimidated by Sektor's hard gaze, he cleared his throat before continuing quietly. — Intimates?

— Much more than that. We are soulmates. — Approaching the cryomancer with her chin held high, she tried to hide the pain of each step towards him with posture. She loved him so much, but that wasn't him. — Perfect. Inseparable.

— So why isn't he here with you?

The cryomancer's question had been genuine, but the blow caused by his words took them both by surprise.

He regretted the question as soon as he saw her seem to lose her breath and her eyes fill with tears.

— We will get together again and make the responsible for keeping us apart pay. — Before he could see her shed the first tear, she turned and wiped it away as soon as it fell. — Come with me or eat dust.

.....

stay tuned for the next episode ;)

[good-beanswrites]

And here’s another fantasy au 02-03 thing! (Vampire Yuno, knight Fuuta, closer friends than they would be during Yuno’s first interrogation but shhh). It’s not quite fluff but hopefully a break from the stronger angst 😂 I still don’t really have many solid details on the plotline, but I was able to get some of my loose thoughts on how the milgram trials would translate here…

The curtain swished aside with flare. Yuno stepped out in a gown of shimmering pink and iridescent stones. The shape was perfectly flattering to her, and the colors complimented the unnatural paleness of her skin. Her painted lips angled into a smile.

“How does this one look?”

Fuuta hardly lifted his head where he’d slumped over one of the fancy chairs. “Exactly like the last twenty.”

She shot him a prized pouty face – it never failed with her clients. Not that he was one of her usual clients. In fact, she would be paying him for tonight.

“I shouldn’t have to do all this handmaid crap. I’m just here to escort you to the ball.”

“Ah, but this is just as important to my safety! My audience with The Warden is tonight, so I really must impress them.” She gestured to her palace’s walls, devoid of mirrors due to their uselessness to her.

“You’re perfectly capable of dressing yourself when you come to town...”

“That is wholly different.”

“Tch. You know it’s not your job to kiss up to them, or whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

She sighed. “And this is why they’re not going to approve of you.”

“Why should I care?” His armor plating clinked as he straightened up. “They just sit in that stupid tower of theirs, pretending to make their judgements, when it’s heroes like me who are out here delivering real justice.”

“What about these earrings? Perhaps they’re too gaudy for this dress…”

---

“Kashiki Yuno, the Second of the Arraigned.”

A squire announced her entrance as the pair stepped into the ballroom. Fuuta didn’t mind that he wasn’t introduced. He knew he’d get plenty of his own attention when it was his turn for an audience with the Warden, and he was already dreading it.

Even if all gazes hadn’t just swung to them, the room was an intimidating one. The two made their way down a lengthy staircase covered in thick, red velvet. A domed ceiling stretched high above them, with metal spires twisting into intricate designs as if to frame the starry sky beyond. 

On the opposite end of the room, the Warden themself sat atop their throne –  a massive square structure crafted from similarly arranged metal bars. Yuno was once again struck with how young they looked, perched on the large throne. She couldn’t wait to finally know if they were as similar as she’d been hoping. She kept envisioning their meeting between two mature people, trapped in the kind of body that the world didn’t take seriously.

It was customary for a young lady to hold her knight’s arm as she descended, but Yuno walked a few paces ahead in her excitement. The two approached the main floor, alive with talk and music as guests bustled about. Fuuta didn’t think there were even this many residents in the kingdom, but he didn’t have time to contemplate as the pair joined the crowd.

Yuno fell into their rhythm immediately. She got lost in the sea of people, chattering and charming anyone she passed by. She received several offers to dance, and took up a few of them. This left Fuuta glowering by the banquet tables by himself. He’d never enjoyed crowded events like this, and most of the guests took the hint upon a quick glance his way.

Both had adequately lost track of time when the bell tower rang out. The sound reverberated through the ballroom, leaving a hush in its wake. 

Then, whispering.

Every single guest seemed to know where Yuno stood. They snuck glances at her, their muttered words closing in from all sides. 

Fuuta shoved through the crowd, ready to draw his sword at the unsettling shift. Though, Yuno didn’t look as disturbed. He followed her gaze to where the Warden was standing up. They walked around the throne and disappeared through a door they hadn’t noticed before. Their Jackalope hopped behind. It turned, as if to beckon to Yuno, before leaving through the door. 

The kingdom was filled with a variety of dangerous creatures – Yuno would know; she was one of them – but this one radiated a different sort of power. 

Surely the Warden that managed to bond with it was just as monstrous, Fuuta reasoned. He followed Yuno to the door, people parting easily for them.

Upon reaching the doorway, Yuno turned with a genuine smile. “It’s alright, Fuuta. Your duties have been fulfilled. You can wait here.” 

It hadn’t been much of a duty to begin with. The journey to Milgram’s fortress had been uneventful, and Yuno knew the trip back would be just as peaceful. She claimed that the uncertainty with The Trials had driven her to hire a bodyguard, but by now Fuuta could have picked up on her true intentions. And those had certainly been fulfilled. She reached out with her gloved hand to squeeze his.

He didn’t release her when she tried to step forward.

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone with them. You shouldn’t go easy on them just because they’re some cute kid – royals never have a good reason to see a young lady in private.”

“I know. I visit royals in private for a living.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, and look how that turned out.”

“Aw, bite me.”

“I thought that was your thing.”

She bared her fangs at him, but couldn’t pretend to be mad. “I’ll be fine.” Though it had taken all night, she really did believe it, now. “I’ve never done anything like this before – it could be fun!”

“It’s dangerous.”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t also be fun~”

Before Fuuta could get another word in, she hiked up her skirts and walked through the door.

[not-a-space-alien]

Desperate Daybreak Chapter 2

In this chapter: Lex and Ari help Valen scramble to figure out what to do about the unexpected news. Traveling back to a familiar (but unwelcome) estate means seeing a familiar (and not entirely unwelcome) face.

MMSS masterpost

DD masterpost

On AO3

Chapter 2

***

Valen dropped the phone.  It dangled from the curly cord bumping against the floor, Tessie’s voice calling faint, “Hello?  Mr. Kithrara?  Are you there?”

“Yes!” Valen shouted, scrambling to get the phone back to his ear.  “Yes, I’m here!  I’m here.  I, ah, surely I must be misinterpreting somehow, right?  He left me the entire estate?”

“Yes.  You can see why I wanted to discuss it in person.”

“...Yes, yes I do see that, now.  I can, ah, I can arrange to travel as soon as possible.  Tell me, what’s a good number to call you back at?”

Valen walked into the next room looking shell shocked.  Lex and Ari straightened up.  Ari patted her lap.  “Come here.  What happened?”

Valen mechanically came over and sat on her lap, in her arms.  “My husband has died.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Lex said.  “You must be having some pretty complicated feelings about that.  Want to talk about it?”

Valen shook his head.  “It isn’t that.  His will bequeathed the entire Kithrara estate to me.”

“Hah, that’d be the dream,” Ari said.

Valen didn’t respond.

“Oh you–You’re serious.  Wait, you’re serious?  He did that?  He did that for real?”

“According to the lawyer on the phone, yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Uh.”

“Yes.”

“So…what do we do now?”

***

Valen had put together improved hunting gear for Lex and Ari.  He didn’t make weapons like Nick had, cruel things that killed in new and interesting ways.  When he was called upon to help the vampire hunters, he made things that kept people alive.  First aid kits he distributed alongside instructions on how to dress bites in the field such that someone didn’t bleed out.  White noise machines and special earplugs that meant the vampire hunters could fight without listening to the vampires using persuasion.

And his proudest invention, what Lex and Ari were currently donning:  Silver body-armor, a silver and steel alloy made of the composition Nick had discovered by testing on Valen’s own body, distributed in inlaid plates over the torso, neck, limbs, and hands.  Lex and Ari had been the first ones to wear them, because Valen wasn’t always brave enough to go on a hunt with them but couldn’t stand the thought of them being unprotected against the kinds of vampires that came over the border.

It was entirely protective, except for the plates inlaid on the gloves.  Those were offensive.  All one would have to do would be to grab the bare skin of their assailant to cause burns.

The only downside was Valen could no longer receive hugs from Ari or gentle touches from Lex, the two things they distributed in such abundance that life felt almost bearable at times.  He stared at their hands as they flashed around the gathered baggage, sitting on the ground among them as though waiting for them to cart him off as well.

“Ready?” Lex said, slinging a duffel over her shoulder.

“Yes,” Valen said.

As Valen stood, Bailey pulled him into a hug.  “You take care of yourself, hear?”

“You know how to get ahold of us if you need backup,” Jerome added.

Valen nodded tearfully, sniffling into Bailey’s shoulder.  “Please take good care of Snowball for me.”

“You know we will.”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t eat Princess D, either,” Jerome said.  He smiled and handed him a backpack.  “Go on.”

“Thank you so much.”

Ari finished loading their bags into the van, the same one they’d made their previous journey over the border in.  This time, they were leaving during the day to give themselves as much time at night as possible.  The goal of their excursion could not possibly be more different than it had been that first time.

“Bye, boys,” Ari said.  “Love you.”

More hugs all around, then Ari climbed into the driver’s seat and took off.  Lex had the maps in the passenger’s seat as usual, and Valen had constructed a little cubby hole with sheets in the back to protect himself from the sun.

“This all feels extremely strange,” Valen said.

“Yeah, I bet,” Ari said.

Valen was swimming in thoughts of the first few times he had been here, in the van–in the coffin, before they’d even introduced themselves and before Lex and Ari even cared what happened to him.  Valen forcing Lex to drive back to his house out in the country, then the same trip on the way back with him restrained in the back.  It had been such a rough start.  Valen was still scared of those versions of Lex and Ari, even though they only existed in memory now.

He wished he could look out the window to pass the time, but the sun was out there.  Instead, he read his books.  He was too nervous to focus much, but luckily he was pretty much immune to motion sickness.

The car slowed down as the terrain got bumpier.  “God, I don’t remember it taking this long,” Ari complained.  “This is gonna take forever.”

“Just be patient, babe.”

Lex and Ari commented on things they passed in an amused way, the horses and cows, the telephone wires, the road signs.  They spoke as though they barely expected vampires to have any of those.

“Last time, we couldn’t figure out what you guys used them for,” Lex told Valen.  “Bailey and Jerome couldn’t either.”

“Use what for?”

“The cows.”

“Cows are a common livestock animal in many parts of the world for meat, milk, hide, and-”

“Well, yeah, but what would a vampire need to use them for?  You don’t eat meat.”

“There are humans who don’t eat meat, but your society still has cows.”

“Well… yeah, but...”

“Gelatine is made from animal collagen, did you know that?  Most commonly from the connective tissue of cows and pigs.”

“...Never change, Valen.”

By the time the sun was going down, they were in an area populated densely enough that they could see civilization start to come alive.  Shuttered and sealed doors opened, dogs barked, conversation and laughter sounded out across backyards.  Children played on lawns–wow, yep, much more quickly and roughly than human children, as two young vampires chased each other around as fast as a car and wrestled in such a way that they accidentally knocked down a nearby tree.

Ari hunched over, looking hunted.  Lex’s hand crept down to her gun.

Valen took down the blankets, folding them up.   “It’s all right.  They’re normal people.  They won’t hurt you.”

Ari kept her wary gaze on a vampire checking his mailbox, then abruptly swerved with a loud, “Jesus Christ!”

A blue car nearly sideswiped them and sped past, easily going 90mph to outclass Ari’s modest 30mph.  “What the fuck,” Ari growled.  “Asshole.  There’s–there’s kids h- I mean, I know they wouldn’t die, but-”

Valen reached forward to put a comforting hand on Ari’s arm, then remembered he would burn himself.  “Things are just different here.  Just be as careful as you can, and wear your seatbelt.”

Things got less noisy when they went into the obviously wealthy part of town, lively lawns with hanging laundry and screaming, excited children replaced with spacious estates too large to hear anyone screaming across.

“Christ, now I feel out of place because our van is dented,” Ari muttered.

The looming wrought iron gate and stone pillars of the Kithrara estate came into view.  With the fountain lit up red and the grounds active with vampires, the entrance looked much more menacing at night than during the day as they'd seen it before.  Lex and Ari’s skin crawled.

Valen, by contrast, looked more depressed than scared.  “Maybe one day I’ll be free of having to come back here.”

The van nosed up to the gate.  Valen sighed and opened the side door.  “You two stay in the van.  I suppose we shall have to let ourselves in.  I expect they will not be entirely pleased to see us.”

“Right.”  Ari’s grip was tight on the steering wheel, grinding her teeth.

Valen stepped out of the van, walked up to the gate, and leapt a dozen feet up into the air from a standstill, flipping over the gate with the grace of an acrobat.  He landed on the other side primly and straightened his cravat before disappearing behind the stone wall.

Lex and Ari stared after him.  “You know,” Lex said slowly.  “I sometimes forget he can, like, just do that.”

“Yeah.”

The gate buzzed open, and the iron gates slowly swung outwards.  Valen appeared walking back to the van.

“So,” Ari said as Valen got back inside the vehicle.  “If anyone can just walk up and backflip over the gate, what’s the point of having it?”

“I imagine it’s mostly psychological,” Valen answered.  “Most locks and doors and fences on this side of the border are.  The looming social consequences for breaking and entering an estate like this far outweigh whatever barrier the physical wall might impose.”

“Ngh,” was Ari’s response.  She nosed the van forward, cautiously creeping up the driveway snaking through the massive lawn.

Valen squinted as a vampire in a maid outfit threw the main entrance open and sprinted out, straight out them.  “Is that–Oh!”

“Mistress Kithrara!” the woman cheered, bouncing with glee.  “They said you were coming back!”

“Callidora!” Valen called.  He once again threw the door open and let himself be tackle-hugged by his beloved handmaiden.  “How are things here?”

“They’ve been so awful without you here, ma’am!”  Callidora drew back, then made a face.  She tried to squash it, but not quick enough.  “Mistress…. What have you done to your…”  Her eyes bounced up and down.  Clearly she was trying not to say your everything.  “... Your face?”

Valen rubbed a hand along his jawline.  “I have facial hair because I’ve been taking testosterone, Callidora.  I live as a man now.  You may recall I tried to talk to Priscus and his family about it at one point, but I gave up eventually.”

“Oh.”  Callidora clearly thought this was extremely weird and undesirable.

Valen tried to hide his disappointment.  “I’m still the same person, Callidora.  I just have facial hair, now.”

“And a deeper voice.”

“And a deeper voice, yes.”

“And your skin isn’t as soft.”

“My-”  Valen went red at the same time as Callidora did.  “My skin isn’t as soft?”

“Only a little bit,” Lex piped up.  “The softness of the body hair makes up for it.”

Valen hid his face in his hands, mortified.

“All right, all right,” Ari said.  “We don’t have to sit here and count the ways Valen changes when he’s on testosterone.”

Callidora looked over at Lex and Ari like she’d just noticed them.  “Oh, you brought your humans!  You two be sure not to get lost this time!”  She was so well-meaning and genuine and whole-heartedly condescending Ari almost flipped out on the spot.

She reined herself in, though.  “Listen, girly, the point is, Valen is a man, and he’s happier this way.  He’s not a mistress, not really.”

“Oh…”  Callidora tapped her fingers.  “Can I still call you mistress, though?”

Well, that was probably as good as it was going to get.  “I suppose,” Valen relented.  “It might seem strange, though.”

Callidora beamed.  “You’re back now.  That’s all that’s important!”

“Yes, I am.  I’m not sure for how long, though.  I imagine the family is in quite the uproar.”

“Yes!  The police are here, and a lawyer, and they want to talk to you as soon as you get in!”

“Goodness!”  Anxiety squeezed Valen’s heart.  “Why are the police here?”

“They think you killed your husband!  Oh, but the lawyer told me not to tell you that yet!  Sorry!  Please don't tell him!”

“They think I–?  I wasn't even in town!”

Callidora shrugged and grimaced.  “I don’t know, Mistress.  That’s just what they said.”

Valen turned to Lex and Ari.  “Well, taking to the police was certainly not what I expected to be at the top of the list of unpleasantries today, but I don’t suppose we have much choice.”  Part of him wanted to just wash his hands of the situation entirely.  To just go back over the border where vampires wouldn’t bother him.  The whole situation had him feeling… numb.

But he would regret it, he knew he would.  He had to be brave and wade into this situation.

Ari reached out and put a hand on his arm, being careful to only touch his clothes because of her metal gloves.  “Valen, I know you can do this.”

Valen nodded.  “Right.”  He eyed the main entrance of the estate, where Callidora was in the process of throwing open the elaborate doors and announcing him.  “Let’s do this.”

***

Taglist

@tomato-whump @dragonfireridge @taterswhump @whump-cravings

@scoundrelwithboba @pigeonwhumps @whumpsday @whumpy-writings @fuzzydarkpebble

@melodicnommer @thecyrulik @snake462 @gt-daboss @appelsiinilight

@star-rott @mottinthemainpot @corvidat @melancholy-in-the-morning @whumplr-reader

@honeycollectswhump @dragonqueenslayer6 @whumpycries @starfields08000

[vodika-vibes]

could I get crosshair, movie marathon and fluff? thank you!!!!!

I think We're Alone Now

Summary: Crosshair gets invited to the room of the only person he might call a friend while he’s employed by the Empire.

Pairing: TBB Empire Era Crosshair x F! Imperial Reader

Word Count: 1031 (I'm doing so bad this time, T-T)

Warnings: Crosshair is a jerk, reader is described as having hair long enough to braid

Prompt: Movie Marathon

A/N: This isn't super fluffy, I don't think, it's only a little fluffy. Also, Coral Wars is the Star Wars version of Star Wars. I hope you like it!

Click HERE to be added to my Taglist

It’s late.

Late enough that the majority of the people on the ship have already retired for the night, and the only people left awake are the clones tasked with manning the night crew.

Crosshair, who isn’t on the night shift, is also awake.

More tellingly, he’s also not in his bunk. 

No, against all of his better judgment, he finds himself standing in front of the closed door that leads to the quarters of the one woman he might call a friend. If you squint and tilt your head to the side.

He lightly raps his knuckles on the door and then leans against the wall to wait for her to let him in her room.

Truthfully, if this were any other person, Crosshair would be a little anxious about this. It never bodes well when an Imp wants to talk to a clone privately. 

But this Imp is different.

Honestly, Crosshair isn’t sure she even knows how to fire a blaster, seeing as she’s a droid technician, but more importantly, Crosshair knows that she’s completely harmless.

He once saw her step on a spider and she was inconsolable for hours. She sobbed on his shoulder for a full thirty minutes about how she was a monster and didn’t deserve to live after that happened.

He lifts his gaze and pulls away from the wall as the door slides open and wide eyes peer out into the hallway. Worry turns into delight when she sees that he’s standing there.

“Cross! You came!”

“Yeah, well, you invited me.” She moves to the side and opens the door wide enough that he can enter the room, and he takes a moment to take stock of the room.

Like all of the rooms on the ship, her quarters are small, the majority of the room filled with a bed covered in blankets and pillows and her foot locker. Her uniform is hanging on a hook next to a door that likely leads to her private fresher. The only other piece of furniture in the room is a wall-mounted holo that looks to be playing old horror movies.

Crosshair turns his bemused gaze towards her, and his bemusement turns into full-blown amusement.

Her hair is pulled into a braid down her spine, and her pajamas are a green tank top and matching long pants, both of which are covered in frogs. “Frogs?” He teases.

She flushes, “I’m allowed to dress comfortably in my room,” 

“Oh, I know. I’m just wondering if I should start calling you Tadpole now.”

“Please don’t,” Her voice has a distinctive whine to it and she presses her hands against her cheeks, “You already have so many nicknames for me.”

Crosshair grins, “You make it so easy though, Mouse.” She scrunches up her nose at him but must have decided that it’s not worth arguing over as she doesn’t say anything, so Crosshair reaches over and lightly tugs on her braid, “So, why am I here?”

She points at her holo, “I’m having a movie marathon, and I thought you might wanna join me?”

“There’s nowhere to sit, little imp.”

She points to her bed, “That’s where we’ll be sitting.”

Crosshair’s grin widens, “Ah, so you invited me to your room so you can invite me into your bed.”

She stares at him for a moment, surprise flashing across her face, and then her face darkens with embarrassment, “N-no! That’s not…I mean, I didn’t intend—!”

He watches her stammer her way to an explanation for a moment, and then he laughs quietly and presses his hand over her mouth, “I’d be happy to watch movies with you. Where should I put my armor?”

Embarrassment still burns on her face as she points to a spot next to the door, “I made a spot for you over there.” She mumbles.

Crosshair nods and swiftly strips out of his armor. By the time he’s down to his blacks, she’s already sitting on the bed with her datapad in her hand, scanning the various movies she has access to.

He sits on the bed next to her and momentarily marvels that her mattress is only a little more comfortable than the thin pad that he uses as a mattress, he thought that the natborns had proper mattresses.

That must be why she has so many blankets and pillows.

“So, what are we watching?” Crosshair asks as he leans over her shoulder to peer at her datapad.

She glances at him and then shifts so that he can see the datapad a little better, “Um…I thinking of starting Coral Wars. It’s a series of trilogies.”

“We don’t have time for a series of trilogies,” Crosshair points out.

“I know, we’ll have to have several of these nights.” Crosshair smirks at her, and then huffs out a breath as she elbows him, “Don’t be gross.”

“Go ahead and start the movie,” Crosshair says through a laugh, “I’m curious now.”

45 minutes later, Crosshair is stretched across her bed, several different blankets draped across him and his head propped up on two different colored pillows as he watches the movie.

More amusingly, his little imp has fallen asleep. She’s not even facing the holo anymore, having instead rolled so that her face is pressed against his chest and her hands are wrapped around the material of his blacks.

She’s warm. Warm and soft and Crosshair knows that he’s fucked, because his arm is draped over her shoulder protectively, and he’s already thinking of all of the ways that he can get her off this ship and away from the Empire without getting them both killed.

But then, she’s been his favorite person for months now, so maybe it was only a matter of time before he fell for her.

So, with the sound of the holo playing in the background, Crosshair leans down and lightly kisses the top of her head. She sighs and presses closer to him, and Crosshair brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I promise to keep you safe.”

He’s not sure how he’s going to keep that promise. But he’s a pretty clever guy, so he’s not that worried.

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