#this is something that's been brewing for a while admittedly

[sf-libet]

p/ortal snz...

c/hell, who keeps silent all the time and is noted as abnormally stubborn. going through all these old test chambers and random bullshit old corporate infrastructure probably filled with dust and all of the intrusive vegetation of portal 2...

g/lados, an ai who absolutely despises her and spends the majority of her time trying to find different ways to torment and belittle her under the guise of testing, with that sultry robotic voice of hers and absolute control of the test chambers around them...

a/perture science, a facility dedicated to all manner of cockamamie science hooey from the 1950s onwards spread between various different domains, all for the purposes of frankly weird, dangerous, and pointless endeavors, in a world where science itself travels in wacky directions and realistically, anything is possible?

cmon. tell me they don't have a scientifically engineered sneezing powder to do tests with. tell me they don't have the human rhinovirus in a tube to spray at subjects. tell me g/lados isn't absolutely going to abuse that, just to get c/hell to make some kind of noise, to get some sort of response, to test exactly how stubborn she really is. get real.

[downbad4sylus]

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

synopsis: You and Sylus visit a coffee shop and unexpectedly run into Doctor Zayne.

content: sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; pre-relationship; zayne cameo; just, so much fluff; mostly proofread

word count: ~2k

a/n: see guys, i’m capable of writing not-angst. also can you tell i have a headcanon about them holding hands while linked or what lol. anyway, i love exploring the dynamics of sylus with the other LIs, i have another one brewing ft. our resident doctor (NOT ANGST) and i’ll probably do some with the others in the future. if anyone has anything they want me try and write for them, please feel free to ask, im happy to do so :)

Dragging Sylus out in Linkon City during the day was never easy, but when a certain energy linkage was keeping you locked to each other’s sides and you just had to have your morning coffee, Sylus was a bit more agreeable.

So there you both stood, waiting in line to order. You’d developed a bit of a habit of holding hands as you’d long since grown used to the linkage binding your wrists. Sylus’s hand dwarfed yours, something that took time to get accustomed to, but now the feeling of his fingers laced with yours was a comfort, and admittedly something you often craved without the linkage.

“Will you let me pay for you this time?” you asked Sylus, peering up at him.

He breathed a low chuckle. “Don’t think so, sweetie,” he replied.

“You never let me pay for anything,” you grumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You tugged Sylus along as you stepped up to the cashier. After placing both your orders (and begrudgingly allowing Sylus to pay), you waited off to the side for your names to be called.

“I’d like to go for a walk after this, if that’s okay,” you said to Sylus. It was overcast today, weather Sylus was more comfortable to be in during the day, you’d noticed.

“That’s fine,” Sylus said. “Where would you like to go?”

You beamed at him. “Actually, there’s a park not far from here, and since the leaves are starting to turn the scenery should be perfect for a—”

“Y/N?”

You whirled around at the sound of your name, spoken by an all too familiar voice.

“Zayne?”

Sure enough, there was your primary care physician, standing with his brow slightly furrowed and his gaze locked on yours and Sylus’s intertwined hands.

“I wasn’t expecting to run into you here,” you commented, drawing his attention from your hand to your eyes.

“This coffee shop isn’t far from the hospital, I stop here in the mornings quite often,” Zayne said. His hazel eyes flicked to Sylus. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Right, Doctor Zayne this is Sy—uh, Skye, he’s…” you trailed off, panic seizing your mind as you fumbled for any explanation as to why you were here with Sylus, holding his hand, that wasn’t the actual truth.

“Her boyfriend,” Sylus lied smoothly, sticking out his unoccupied hand at Zayne. “It’s nice to finally meet you, doctor, Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

You missed the nearly imperceptible flare of Zayne’s eyes at Sylus’s answer, too busy short circuiting over the fact that Sylus had just introduced himself as your boyfriend. When had you gone from “besties” to “boyfriend?”

“Nice to meet you too,” Zayne said politely, shaking Sylus’s hand. “Y/N, you never told me you were seeing someone.”

Sylus laughed. “We only just became official.”

You finally managed to regain your composure. “Right, and I haven’t been by for an appointment since then, otherwise I would’ve told you,” you said, bolstering the lie.

Zayne nodded, as if satisfied by your answers. “Well, then I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Oh, Zayne please, that’s not necessary,” you insisted. A barista called for your orders, which Sylus grabbed and handed to you before taking his own. “Zayne, why don’t you come sit with us? Unless you have important doctor business to take care of.”

Zayne’s lips tilted ever so slightly at your teasing remark. “Sure, I have some time before I have to get back.”

Once Zayne received his coffee, the three of you found an unoccupied table and sat, with you and Sylus on one side, hands still clasped, and Zayne on the other.

“So, how long have you two been seeing each other?” Zayne asked with clinical precision, his stare just as sharp.

“Quite a few months now,” Sylus said. His bright red eyes focused on you. “Y/N practically fell on my doorstep, and I guess you could say the rest is history.”

You snorted, though your cheeks were as red as Sylus’s eyes. “That’s one way to describe it,” you muttered.

“What, sweetie? Would you explain it differently?” Sylus asked, raising a brow.

You shook your head. “No, yours was fine,” you quipped.

“How kind,” Sylus drawled.

You glanced at Zayne and found him watching the two of you with his head tilted. Mirth danced in his hazel eyes, as if observing the “happy couple” was amusing.

“How’s work been, Doctor Zayne?” you asked.

“Fine, the usual,” he answered. “And you? Any injuries you haven’t told me about either?”

“No,” you said firmly. “I’ve been very careful.”

Zayne’s lips curled. “I have a hard time believing that. Skye, has our Hunter been careful lately?”

Sylus’s fingers twitched around yours but his expression didn’t falter. “To everyone’s surprise, she has. No secret injuries to report.”

Zayne made a satisfied hum. “What do you do for work Skye?”

You stiffened. Nothing caused you more anxiety than when someone asked Sylus too many questions. He was a practiced smooth talker, able to craft a believable lie without a second thought, but you still couldn’t help worrying. The last thing you wanted was for him to be recognized, for him to be taken away from you.

Sylus rubbed his thumb along yours soothingly. “I own a few small businesses here and there,” he told the doctor.

“He runs a fruit stall!” you chimed in excitedly.

“That’s one of the few,” Sylus chuckled.

“I had some of his watermelon once at a work function he happened to be catering,” you continued. The very same work function Sylus had called you “besties.” Sylus really was your best friend though, you realized so suddenly your heart practically skipped a beat.

“Well, I’m glad that business is good then,” Zayne said.

You and Zayne then slipped into a casual conversation, catching up on the recent happenings in each other’s lives, while Sylus remained more of a quiet observer.

Actually, Sylus was debating on whether or not to kill (or seriously maim) your primary care physician.

Sylus would never admit to being jealous, but his chest tightened watching you speak to the doctor, hearing the way you laughed at his eerily similar dry humor. He knew you’d been childhood friends and had a long history, but it certainly didn’t help that the way Zayne looked at you was the exact same way Sylus looked at you. And he hadn’t missed the flash of longing in Zayne’s eyes when he’d first spotted your clasped hands at the counter. It was why Sylus had gone out of his way to introduce himself as your boyfriend, even if it meant speeding up his timeline with you a little.

However, Sylus couldn’t deny that Zayne’s role as your primary care physician was an important one, crucial even. He was a renowned cardiac surgeon and an expert in Protocore Syndrome, making him perhaps the only person equipped to help with your heart condition. So Sylus would let him live, because you would be upset with him if he didn’t, and because he was a valuable asset.

Finishing the last of his coffee, Zayne flipped his wrist, checking the time on his watch. “I’m afraid I have to get going now, my break is almost over,” he declared, rising from his seat. “It was nice meeting you Skye, and I’ll see you for your next check up soon, Y/N. No getting hurt in the meantime, okay?”

“Hey! I told you I was being careful!” you exclaimed.

Zayne gave Sylus a withering look. “It’s good to know there’s someone else who understands Y/N’s penchant for danger.”

Sylus recognized the comment for what it was, a white flag thrown at his feet.

Brow cocked and mouth tilted, Sylus picked it up. “Her recklessness knows no bounds.”

“Since when did this become a gang-up-on-Y/N session?” you questioned.

Both Zayne and Sylus chuckled.

“Thank you for the invitation,” Zayne said. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

“I’m sure,” Sylus replied.

“It was nice seeing you Doctor Zayne!” you called after him as he swiftly took his leave.

You and Sylus left shortly thereafter, going to the park you had mentioned to walk amongst the multicolored trees. The linkage dissipated on the way over, but Sylus never let go of your hand.

And now alone with him, your thoughts spiraled.

You couldn’t deny that you had feelings for him, you had for quite a while. You two had been spending a lot of time together recently, whether it was you frequenting Onychinus’s base and ruining your sleep schedule, or him staying over at your apartment and ruining his sleep schedule. But even so, you weren’t sure if Sylus felt the same about you, and now that he’d so casually introduced himself as your boyfriend, you didn’t know what to think.

“I think I see steam coming out of your ears, sweetie.”

You whipped your head toward him. “Why would you say that?”

He smirked. “You’re thinking very loudly. Tell me, what is it?”

It was hard to deny him when he spoke so softly, something he reserved for you and you alone.

“Why did you say you were my boyfriend?” you asked quietly, averting your gaze.

“Because it was easier than explaining our actual relationship,” Sylus said simply.

“And what, exactly, is our actual relationship?”

His brow quirked. “I was under the impression we were something far more than just boyfriend and girlfriend, unless I’ve misread the situation.”

You pulled him to a stop, gaping at him. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Of course I’m being serious, when have I ever not been?” Sylus tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Have I misread the situation, sweetie?”

It was rare to see Sylus nervous, if that was what you could call it.

You shook your head. “No, I just—I had no idea you felt that way.”

Sylus huffed. “Y/N, I told you that I adore you, that there is no love purer than mine, what else could I have meant by that?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured.

He brought your entwined hands up to his lips, kissing the back of yours. “Talk to me, kitten.”

“Are you saying you love me?” you blurted.

Sylus grinned. “I am,” he said.

“Then say it,” you demanded.

He tugged your hand and you fell into his chest. His free hand threaded into your hair and tilted your head up to look at him, into those mesmerizing red eyes.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his deep voice so tender it made your heart flutter.

“Sylus,” you breathed. You reached up and cupped his cheek, tears welling in your eyes. “I love you too.”

He huffed a disbelieving chuckle before pressing the most gentle kiss to your forehead. “We should’ve run into your doctor sooner,” he murmured against your skin.

You reared back, slapping his chest. “Don’t ruin our moment!”

Sylus only laughed in response.

Finally letting go of your hand, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you impossibly closer. Your own arms twined around his neck, stretching on your tip toes to better maintain eye contact.

“So where does this leave us?” you asked.

Sylus shrugged a shoulder. “Where do you want it to leave us?”

You smiled. “Well, I guess you’re my boyfriend now, even though you never formally asked me to be your girlfriend.”

His lips twitched. “Would you like me to perform a grand gesture?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“All right, kitten, then I hope you look forward to it.”

[moonstruckme]

I’m not quite sure if this is too explicit so if it is please feel free to decline, but I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader who has a past with sexual assault so is kind of iffy and stand offish about sexual inter course? Again, all good if you can’t because it is a touchy subject ! I hope you’re having a lovely day/night !! (p.s. I love your writing so much :3)

Thank you gorgeous, love you <3

cw: trauma response, mention of past sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Sometimes you can feel left out. Of the easy way the boys touch each other, the knowingness they have of the other’s bodies, the in-jokes about intimate aspects of their relationship that aren’t secret from you but you’re not a part of. And you know in your bones, in that thrumming, impossible-to-ignore beat inside your ribcage, that you’re not ready to be a part of them, but it still hurts to have something about your boys that’s separate from you. Some part of them you can’t access, and it’s only because you won’t allow them access to you in return. 

And sometimes, like now, things go astonishingly well. Sometimes you can let them touch you while feeling nothing but the pleasant warmth of love and lust brewing like a potion in your core. Sometimes you can let yourself tug Sirius closer as he kisses you, can swallow the soft sounds he makes into your mouth without your mind taking you anywhere other than this bed, this boy. 

Sometimes you can get so lost in them it feels like the fear can’t find you. 

“Okay?” Sirius breathes, setting a tentative hand on the small of your back. He tastes like coca cola, and his lips are a manifestation of every soft and earnest part of him he never shows. “This okay, sweetness?” 

You nod fervently, trying very hard not to think as you tunnel your fingers into the featherdown silkiness of the hair behind his ear. 

“Yeah?” You’re growing quite sick of all his talking, persistent in your kisses even when Sirius breaks them. His mouth curves against yours, sensing this, and his hand settles more comfortably into the curve of your spine. “Alright, you’re in charge. Just let me know if anything’s too much.” 

You make a muffled sound of acknowledgement. Truly, logically, you feel safe with Sirius, the same as you would with Remus or James. It was his idea that you be on top, after Remus figured out that you feel most comfortable when you don’t feel trapped, after James was the one to initiate the conversation on how they can make you feel good while respecting your (admittedly, nebulous and often fickle) boundaries. You haven’t worked up the courage to do anything beyond kissing, and none of them have pushed you. Really, you’ve been the one doing the pushing, wanting more and more from the kissing until it’s turned into this, you and Sirius hiding from dishwashing duty with you on top of him and sucking his face like a dementor.

You grind your hips down into his, and Sirius’ chuckle rumbles through the both of you as he grabs a greedy handful of your ass. 

Your breath stills in your lungs. 

You still completely, actually, every inch of you rigid, from your bum under Sirius’ hand to your eyes, stuck closed tight. The only part of you that seems to get that you’re still alive is your heart, thrashing wildly inside the bars of your ribcage like it wants to escape when you can’t. 

“Shit.” Sirius’ hand flees upward, skimming up your back to safer territory below your shoulder blades. “Shit, sorry, baby. You okay?” 

You want to tell him yes, in every physical, objective, important way you’re just fine. But your breath is frozen solid somewhere between your throat and your lungs and it won’t let you speak. 

“Sweetheart.” Sirius is starting to sound desperate, though he’s clearly trying to stay calm for your sake. He sets gentle hands at your waist, sitting you up while he eases out from under you. You expect you’ll move like a statue, but your arms move of their own mind once freed, wrapping tight around your middle. “You’re okay, baby, you’re safe. I’m so sorry, I was—I should have asked. I moved too fast, I didn’t mean to scare you. Can you talk to me, please?” 

“Sorry,” you manage. Something comes loose inside you. The air comes back to your lungs, you pull your legs up onto the bed, and laughter unspools from inside you like wire long coiled tight. 

Sirius doesn’t smile. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you like that. Are you okay?”

It’s now that James and Remus decide to come and see what you’re up to. At the sound of Sirius’ panic-tight voice, their footsteps hasten down the hallway. James taps on the doorframe and you turn to him so fast your neck clicks. His face is melded by a soft worry. 

“Everything alright?” he asks. 

You nod, but Sirius must signal something different from your other side, because James and Remus advance towards the bed the way one might approach a feral kitten. 

“Are you okay?” Sirius asks again, voice cracking now that the other two are here. 

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” Remus says gently. “Maybe stop touching her for a bit.” You hadn’t even noticed Sirius’ hand gripping your leg, but its removal feels like you’ve lost a thousand pounds. You fight back a shiver. “She’s okay. Aren’t you, darling?” 

To hear worry in even Remus’ voice is significant. You try to make yours even to counter it. “Yeah,” you agree. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” James promises, crouching in front of you and Sirius. You’ve nowhere to hide from his melty-soft gaze. “What happened?” 

“I went too far.” Sirius’ voice sounds like it hurts, scraping its way out of him. Your heart throbs in response. 

You shake your head, insistent and perhaps a touch too fast. “No, it wasn’t your fault. I was—I—I escalated things, and then it just—”

“Take a deep breath,” Remus instructs. 

“I’m fine,” you say again. 

“Please, sweetheart. Just try.” 

You do, for his sake, pushing air in and out of your lungs like you’re trying to inflate a balloon. They won’t get as full as you want them too, but it’s not until you try that your body seems to catch up to what’s been happening. You start trembling all over. 

“Shit.” Your voice thickens, tears threatening. “Sorry, this is so stupid.” 

“It’s not,” James says. “Can I...can I hold your hand, or are you not ready for that yet?” 

“Please,” you squeak out. 

He grasps your hand, and you squeeze tightly, breathing until the tears don’t press at your eyes so insistently. You hate that the ugly thing of your past is touching something this good. That it’s hurting people who aren’t you, like it’s a virus you caught and now you’re spreading it.

“It’s really not your fault,” you tell Sirius, turning to him. “I thought I could handle it.” 

“I shouldn’t have moved without checking,” he replies in a similar tone. “I’m so sorry, sweetness. I never want to scare you like that.” 

You shake your head. “You don’t.” 

A dense silence lapses, not uncomfortable but full of things unsaid. James’ hand is warm in yours. 

“Hug?” you ask Sirius. 

He looks surprised. “Are you sure?” 

You nod, extricating your hand from James’ to wrap your arms around his middle. Sirius is tentative at first, palms placed lightly on the high and low points of your back, but when you hold him tighter he reciprocates. You hear Remus whisper something to James. Sirius’ fingers press into your back, the tip of his nose cold where it squishes into your neck. 

Sometimes, they make you feel completely safe. 

[latenightreadingpdf]

Beneath the Moonlight - Remus Lupin

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: In the days leading up to a full moon, Remus Lupin receives an anonymous gift basket filled with potions, chocolates, and a carefully-brewed Wolfsbane Potion.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Y/N considered herself a rather observant student, especially when it came to the Marauders. It was hard not to notice them, really. They were practically a four-person parade through the halls of Hogwarts—pranks, laughter, and charm trailing behind them like a comet's tail. James Potter with his messy hair and endless attempts to impress Lily Evans, Sirius Black with his dazzling grin and effortless cool, Peter Pettigrew following close, always eager to please. But one Marauder stood out to her more than the rest. Remus Lupin.

There was something about him that had Y/N hooked from the beginning. Perhaps it was his quiet brilliance or the way he seemed to carry a world of mysteries in those warm, honey-colored eyes. Or maybe, it was the way new scars seemed to appear on his face and hands every so often, faint but unmistakable. They fascinated her, those scars, and as her gaze lingered on him in class or at meals, she found herself trying to figure him out.

And, admittedly, somewhere along the way, Y/N developed a bit of a crush on him. But who wouldn’t? He was brilliant, always top of the class without trying too hard, and—and yes, he was gorgeous. Handsome in that annoyingly effortless way. Soft, tousled hair that practically begged to be touched, sharp cheekbones, and—Merlin, those knit jumpers that always made him look so adorable. How was that fair? It was like he’d been sculpted by some benevolent god of tall, bookish, sweater-loving dream boys.

But Y/N’s interest in him was more than just attraction. There was something… otherworldly about him. She’d started to notice patterns—how he would seem worn and pale every few weeks, how he would disappear entirely from school grounds for a day or two, only to return looking exhausted and, if possible, even more scarred than before.

A month ago, after endless speculation and careful observation, Y/N had arrived at a conclusion: Remus Lupin was probably a werewolf. She wasn’t completely certain; it was more of an educated guess. But what could she do with this theory? It wasn’t like she could walk up to him and blurt out, “Hey, Remus! You don’t know me, but I’ve been watching you for months, and I just wanted to ask, are you, by any chance, a werewolf?”

The thought alone made her cringe. Y/N sighed, tapping her quill against her parchment. Remus Lupin might be full of mysteries and maybe—just maybe—she’d get the courage to actually talk to him someday.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The full moon was only a few days away, and Y/N could already see the toll it was taking on Remus. He was limping slightly, a stiffness in his stride that made her heart ache, and the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than ever. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t been sleeping in days, and though she knew he had his friends—the Marauders, always fiercely loyal—she couldn’t help but feel he needed more comfort than they could provide. She wanted to do something for him, something small but meaningful.

The idea hit her while she was rummaging through her bag in the library: an anonymous get-well-soon basket. She could leave it outside his dorm, a collection of little comforts to ease the days leading up to his transformation. She’d make sure it was subtle, not too personal, just enough to lift his spirits without drawing attention.

Excitement and nerves mixed in her stomach as she mentally listed what she’d need. A couple potions to help with sleep, pain, and anxiety, some of Honeydukes' finest chocolate, a soft blanket to keep him warm, and a few baked goods from the kitchen elves. She might even add a small note with a simple message—“Hope these bring you a bit of comfort during the full moon. Take care of yourself.”

Over the next couple of days, Y/N carefully gathered everything. She bought him a midnight-blue wool blanket that felt like a hug in fabric form and a variety of different chocolates. She used her advanced potion skills to make Murtlap Essence, a Calming Draught, and a Healing Potion.

But the most important addition was a small bottle of Wolfsbane Potion. She’d somehow managed to get her hands on the recipe, even though it wasn’t officially taught at Hogwarts—and she’d acquired a secret stash of the rare ingredients needed to brew it, though she'd never admit where from. It had taken several nights of brewing in the abandoned classroom she’d found, but she’d done it.

The full moon was only two days away when she finished assembling the basket, carefully placing the note on top before leaving it right outside the boys' dormitory. With a final glance over her handiwork, she quickly walked back to her dorm, satisfied with her work.

As she returned to her room, a little thrill of satisfaction bubbled within her. Maybe, just maybe, her small gesture would help Remus feel a little less alone, a little less burdened by the full moon’s approach. And that thought alone was enough to fill her with quiet joy.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Just a few floors below, the Marauders were still lounging in the Gryffindor common room, sprawled across chairs and couches as the fire crackled low. They’d spent hours discussing pranks, arguing about the latest Quidditch match, and bickering about everything from Potions homework to the best way to dodge Filch. When the last embers started to die, they finally decided it was time to call it a night.

As they made their way up the stairs, it was James who first spotted the basket. He froze mid-step, eyebrows raised as he pointed it out. "Er, lads... anyone know what this is?"

The other boys crowded around, peering down at the unexpected sight.

“No clue,” Peter murmured, squinting at the note resting on top.

Sirius, with his usual curiosity, leaned down and plucked up the note, inspecting it with a grin before his eyes gleamed mischievously. “Ooooooh, Remus, it’s for you!” he cooed, reading the note aloud for the group: ‘Hope these bring you a bit of comfort during the full moon. Take care of yourself.’

The boys’ faces all fell at once. Whoever had left this knew. Someone had figured it out. Their carefully crafted excuses, the timing of their sneaking around, all the little tricks they’d come up with—they thought it was foolproof. But apparently, someone had been watching more closely than they’d realized.

Without another word, they grabbed the basket, exchanging uneasy glances as they rushed into the dormitory, shutting the door firmly behind them. They gathered around Remus’s bed, where James set the basket down, and just stared at it.

“Well? Open it already!” James urged, his voice a mix of curiosity, excitement, and a tinge of concern.

Remus took a steadying breath. His friends were watching him closely as he slowly lifted the wrapping, half-expecting some kind of prank to burst out at him. But instead, he found an assortment of thoughtful items neatly arranged within the basket. A stack of Honeydukes chocolates, carefully tied together with string. A blanket, dark blue and soft, lay folded at the side. Several small bottles—potions, each labeled with precision, sat in the center, cushioned by tissue paper.

They all scanned the contents in awe and curiosity, but Sirius was the first to notice something unusual. He gasped, eyes widening as he pointed to one particular bottle.

“Holy shit, is that—”

“Wolfsbane,” Remus finished quietly, staring at the vial with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

They all fell silent, taking in the implications of that single bottle. Wolfsbane Potion was incredibly complex, nearly impossible for a student to brew, and yet here it was—crafted, sealed, and ready for him. Someone had not only figured out his secret but had gone to lengths far beyond casual concern. The potion’s presence in the basket hinted at more than just kindness; it was a deeply personal gesture, an unspoken understanding that spoke volumes.

Remus swallowed hard, his fingers brushing the cool glass of the bottle. "Did the card say who it was from?" he asked, looking over at Sirius, who shrugged and handed him the note again.

Remus read the short message over and over, searching for any hidden clues, some hint that might give away the sender. But the note was short, simple, and entirely anonymous. He turned it over, checked for invisible ink, even held it up to the light, but there was nothing.

“Not a single hint?” James murmured, peering over his shoulder, a frown deepening across his face. “Nothing?”

The group exchanged baffled glances. They examined the basket once more, handling each item carefully to make sure nothing seemed dangerous. The potions were labeled clearly and accurately, the chocolate smelled rich and sweet, and the blanket was incredibly soft—perfect for a night when he’d be feeling cold and drained. Every item seemed genuine, carefully chosen, with not a hint of a prank or hex.

As they finished examining the basket, they slowly started getting ready for bed. Remus sat quietly on his bed, his mind racing as he took in the kindness of it all. He tucked the potions into his bedside drawer, hiding the chocolate where he knew Sirius wouldn’t be able to steal it, and spread the blanket over his bed. It was soft, warmer than his own, and the weight of it settled over him like a quiet comfort he hadn’t realized he needed.

Sliding under the blanket, Remus felt a warmth blooming in his chest. Someone out there knew his secret, but instead of using it against him, they’d tried to make things a little easier. And he knew, without question, that he had to figure out who it was.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The full moon had passed in a calm that Remus had never experienced before. He woke that morning still feeling sore, but the aches were manageable. Normally, the transformations left him scarred and hollow, as if all the energy and warmth had been drained from him, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. But this time, thanks to the Wolfsbane Potion and the potions from the basket, he felt… human. Less broken.

After seeing the other Marauders off to class, Remus leaned back into his bed, feeling the softness of the new blanket wrap around him like a gentle hug. He’d spent the morning drinking one of the calming potions, using the healing salve for his aches, and nibbling on a bit of chocolate to ease his nerves. And though he was grateful, he couldn’t shake the strange blend of curiosity and unease that swirled in his mind. Who knew? Who cared this much? The secrecy felt like a burden, yet he couldn’t help but feel a small glow of warmth every time he glanced at the basket.

Meanwhile, James, Sirius, and Peter were trying to answer that very question in their own way. During Potions, they’d had an idea. Whoever had brewed Wolfsbane Potion had to be incredibly skilled, so finding out who had the best marks in Potions could narrow things down. The second Slughorn dismissed them, they pounced.

Sirius leaned casually on Slughorn’s desk, grinning with exaggerated innocence. “Professor,” he began, “say I wanted to improve my Potions skills. Just hypothetically.”

Slughorn’s eyebrows lifted, clearly intrigued by Sirius’s unusual interest. “Oh? Well, it’s about time, Mr. Black. I’d say your marks could certainly use a bit of boosting.”

“Oh, I know, I know!” Sirius waved his hands, laughing a bit. “That’s exactly why I was thinking maybe a bit of tutoring could help. So… who would you say is the top student in your class?”

James sidled up next to him, nodding earnestly. “Yeah, Professor. Who’s the best at brewing?”

Slughorn looked delighted, his chest puffing with pride at the idea of his Gryffindor students taking a sudden interest in his class. He lowered his voice as though he were sharing a prized secret. “Ah, if you’re looking for someone with real talent, you’d want to speak with Y/N Y/L/N. A truly gifted student! Absolutely meticulous with her brewing, and a Gryffindor as well! You boys ought to know her.”

Sirius and James exchanged baffled glances. “Y/N Y/L/N?” James muttered, frowning in thought.

Peter piped up, looking a little surprised. “Oh, I remember her. We did a project together in second year. She’s very sweet. I suppose she’s easy to miss, always keeping to herself.”

“Right…” Sirius trailed off, scratching his chin. “Doesn’t sound like the type to be sneaking around in the dead of night to drop off mysterious gift baskets, does she?”

“People can surprise you,” Peter shrugged. “I bet she’s got her reasons.”

After classes were over, the three Marauders nearly sprinted back to the dormitory. They’d waited all day to tell Remus their findings, and as soon as they saw him, they launched right into it.

“So,” Sirius said, flopping dramatically onto Remus’s bed, “we might know who left the basket.”

Remus looked up, eyebrows raised, though he tried to appear casual. “Really?”

James nodded, practically bouncing with excitement. “Y/N Y/L/N. Slughorn says she’s his top student in Potions. And she’s a Gryffindor, so she’d know where to find us.”

The name caught Remus off guard. “Y/N Y/L/N?” He knew exactly who she was—quiet, always hanging at the edges of things, never drawing attention to herself. He remembered her from their earlier years, especially a few years back when she and Peter had done that project together. She’d been kind and incredibly smart, but she always seemed to fade into the background.

Sirius shot him a curious look. “Wait—do you actually know her?”

Remus hesitated, carefully picking his words. “I mean… I remember her. We’ve been in classes together since first year.”

But what he didn’t say was that he’d once felt drawn to her quiet kindness. She wasn’t like other students; there was a thoughtfulness to her, a gentle intelligence that had always intrigued him. He remembered her now, the shy girl who had somehow made him feel seen, and the idea that she might have left the basket stirred something inside him—a mix of hope and nerves.

Sirius smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. “Oh, you remember her, do you?”

Remus rolled his eyes, trying to hide his blush. “Look, it’s probably not her. There’s no way she’d still remember… I mean, we barely ever talked.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Barely ever talked? That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t care. Besides,” he added with a grin, “you clearly want it to be her.”

Remus glanced away, not trusting himself to deny it. Because if it really was Y/N… she’d have gone to extraordinary lengths just to help him. It would mean she knew his secret and, rather than fearing him, had quietly found a way to ease his burden. And perhaps the most surprising part? He found himself hoping it was her.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Alright. I’ll talk to her. See if there’s anything to this theory of yours.”

The next morning, with a hint of apprehension and excitement, Remus set out to find her. He decided to look in the library first, where he thought she might be studying between classes. But as he crossed the common room, he spotted her in the far corner, curled up in a chair with a thick book on her lap.

He took a steadying breath and made his way over to her. She looked up, clearly surprised to see him, her eyes widening as he gave a small, nervous smile.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Do you mind if I join you?”

She blinked, a little flustered, but nodded, gesturing to the seat across from her. “Um, of course, Remus.”

They sat in a slightly awkward silence for a moment, and Remus could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. He cleared his throat, feeling the weight of her attention on him.

“So… I, uh, wanted to thank you,” he started, not sure how to bring it up. “For… everything.”

She stiffened slightly, her cheeks flushing, but kept her gaze steady. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she replied quietly.

He watched her, seeing the faintest hint of a smile playing at her lips, and knew then, without a doubt, that she was the one. “The gift basket. The potions. The blanket.” He lowered his voice. “The Wolfsbane. It helped me… more than I can say.”

Her face softened, and she nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I’m… really glad to hear that. I just wanted you to have what you needed. It’s not easy going through all that on your own.”

Remus felt his heart swell. Here she was, fully aware of the truth and yet sitting here, calm and kind, accepting him exactly as he was.

He met her gaze, feeling a sense of calm he hadn’t felt in ages. “Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I did to deserve that kind of kindness from you, but… it means a lot.”

They sat there in a comfortable silence, the unspoken words passing between them, understanding filling the space. He knew he’d found a friend in her—someone who saw through the mask he wore and had chosen to help, not out of pity, but because she understood what it meant to care quietly, deeply, and without expectation.

And perhaps, he thought with a hint of warmth, this was only the beginning of something much deeper.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N ~ this is kinda rushed sorry, school is killing me :P

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ a shot of lust ]❜

ft. claude clawmark x f! reader — ttt, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ while testing out potions, you take an experimental sip gone wrong & your friend isn’t half as innocent as he seems┊2.2k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub claude┊slight dubcon, reader is mean but claude is into that, unintentional (high-key nonconsensual) drugging with an aphrodisiac, kinda unrequited feelings but requited lust, making out, marking & biting, slight masochist claude, spit as lube, degradation, unprotected piv on a chair (because you guys are nasty like that), implied multiple rounds

➤ author's note: oh my god, i’ve been starving you guys again, i’m so sorry, i’ve been hit full force with squid game brainrot. this isn’t my best work, but i’m slowly getting back into niji because it’s my first vtuber family and i miss them :( 

potion-making is a refined art that is desirable to all with its effectiveness in battle or healing properties yet mastered by few with how dangerous or explosive results could be with something simple as an extra drop of dragon’s blood becoming fatal. personally, you’re willing to take the risk of the deadly consequences when it comes to elixirs of speed to slay your opponents before they could even blink.

for these very reasons, you study the craft under your fellow adventurer and close confidant claude clawmark. admittedly, he wasn’t your first choice regarding mentors with his messy workspace and questionable habits, but he was willing to teach you for free so you agreed. even victoria and kunai were unsure of your decision but figured that if anyone could handle the eccentric cleric, it would be you. even though this was something you took upon yourself to learn, you really didn’t like being cooped up in his shop all day while taking orders from customers and spending all day mixing strange components. you miss going out and looting dungeons with your guildmates, but learning through experience would certainly be worth it in the amount of gold you could save by making your own potions (people really pay for the expertise of a professional rather than the collected common loot dropped to make them).

the wooden table in the center of the room had a batch of roughly fifteen glass vials filled with strength potions for a customer, a finished half of the order while working on producing the other half of invisibility. you placed a sealed jar of fermented spider eyes on the table for your partner to brew and went to go grab some night vision potions for the base, but you noticed an odd bottle filled with a shimmering pink liquid that stood out among the batch of dully-colored royal blue potions on the self. it clearly wasn’t organized on the right shelf, but it didn’t have a label nor did its appearance match any of the others. “hey claude, do you remember what this is supposed to be?”

he turned his head to examine it for a second before continuing his work, “eh, i’m not actually sure. maybe you should test it out.”

oh yeah, another thing about potions is that if you aren’t sure what it is, you have to try it out yourself. there are tons of healing medicines all over the place in case someone got poisoned, so you drank it without hesitation like you’ve done plenty of times before. it tasted artificially of strawberries and cream, not an uncommon flavor to mask the usual strange medley of ingredients, but it left a weird aftertaste of bittersweetness on your tongue. you didn’t feel any different nor see any change looking in the mirror so perhaps it was simply a base potion that didn’t have any magic added yet, leaving you to go on with your day after placing the empty glass into the sink.

it didn’t hit you full-force as soon as you swallowed it, but the effects were slowly but surely taking hold of you. it started with you feeling warm, taking off your jacket and touching your face, wondering if there was a sudden change in room temperature for some reason. your breathing steadily became more labored even though you weren’t moving around much, trying to take deep breaths through your mouth in a futile attempt to clear your fogged mind and soaking a towel in water to pat away the perspiration beginning to form on your forehead.

were you ill and coming down with a fever? it didn’t feel like any virus you’ve ever had, felt more like… it was definitely from that unlabeled potion you drank earlier, but why would he leave such a thing lying around if it was really what you thought? this was really why you were warned to get a proper tutor instead of a cleric known for fumbling his belongings. the sun had begun to set and the shop would close in about fifteen minutes anyway, so you decided to wait it out even though it felt borderline unbearable. leaning back on the table, you think there must be an antidote or something somewhere to counter it, but you were interrupted before you could get up and look for it.

“are you okay? you look sick,” claude mentioned, taking off his tool belt equipped with various gadgets and moving away from his station to check in on you. “do you… need help with anything?” he took off his glove to gently press his hand against your forehead followed by your cheek to test your temperature, suddenly feeling conscious of his presence with the proximity and feeling his breath on your skin as he stared intently at your face.

you never paid too much attention to his looks, but you suddenly found yourself studying his appearance now that he was so much closer to you: his long opalescent locks that were neatly tied in a ponytail tossed over his shoulder, his sleepy eyes that shifted from magenta to aquamarine, how built he actually was with his broad shoulders that well defined his frame— was he always so handsome?

“hey… claude…” you felt like a living furnace with lit coals that were bursting at the seams, fire burning into desire at your core and could only be quenched by the man standing in front of you. vivi and kunai aren’t the best at keeping secrets (especially when it’s past midnight at a sleepover), you knew he had a crush on you or at the very least found you attractive. either way, he wouldn’t reject you at the moment unless he considers the friendship on the line, and you were willing to bet everything on that.

his eyes met yours, staring deeply into them while waiting for you to finish your sentence. the tension was so palpable that it could be cut with a knife and you sighed, closing your eyes and leaning forward to break it with a kiss. you couldn’t see his reaction, but he didn’t flinch nor did he pull back, instead reciprocating it once he seemed to process it.

it took some of the edge off, but you still felt insatiable and starved for more of him. slipping your hand to the back of his head and intertwining it with his hair, you deepened the kiss and began to dart your tongue out to ask him to part his lips. you had no way to know what he was really thinking, but he seemed to be understandably confused about the whole thing and yet he didn’t deny you or offer an ounce of resistance. he obediently followed your motions and let you take the lead, just how you liked it, even whimpering slightly when your tongue gently brushed against his and felt the cool titanium pierced through it.

oh, when you heard that sound escape his lips, something feral awakened within you. “fuck…” you placed your hands on her shoulder and swung him around, roughly shoving him down onto a nearby chair and splitting his legs apart with a knee in the middle while continuing to kiss him roughly. fiddling with the hem of his clothing, “is this okay?”

he blushed a deep red as if the gravity of the situation was only hitting him now that you were requesting for content, “y-yes! of course! totally!” he mentally cringed, his ass did not just say ‘totally’ when his crush of over a year was asking if it was okay to fuck him.

thankfully for him, you didn’t seem to mind in the least bit and fervently began to strip him of his clothing, pulling his black top over his arms and tossing it haphazardly on the floor. his strapping frame was even more evident with his bare chest exposed to you, pretty unblemished ivory skin that was just begging to get marked up and bruised. you were quick to leave one last kiss on his lips before lowering your head to suck on his neck, watching a dark purple-red hickey bloom on the spot. you repeated this process a few times before outright sinking your teeth into his tender flesh, finding yourself unable to refrain from behaving like a wild animal even though you were trying your hardest to hold yourself back. 

meanwhile, claude felt like he was dreaming and was almost light-headed by your touch. he allowed you to use his body as you pleased, like a doll for you to play with and abuse. the pain didn’t even register as such to him, feeling more like ecstasy shooting through his veins wherever your mouth found itself as his eyes rolled back like the pathetic fool he was.

“fuck, i feel like i’m going crazy,” you groaned, adjusting your position to sit on his lap and pulling back his pristine white pants to reveal his leaking cock before holding out your palm. “spit.” he complied, taking a moment to gather saliva in his mouth before spitting a clear glob into your open hand which you smeared all over his dick to act as makeshift lube.

the heat was really beginning to get to you like the wrath of a thousand suns, prickling at your skin and causing you to pause your actions to remove your own clothing. you didn’t notice until you were fully nude the way he was staring at you like he had just witnessed the unfiltered beauty of a goddess for the first time. maybe if it was another day under different circumstances, you would have felt soft at his obvious affection and admiration towards you, but unfortunately, you were feeling nothing but irritation due to the effects of the drug.

you extended an arm to push him back so he was sitting properly against the chair instead of slouching, moving to straddle him and finally, finally, lined up his angry red tip with your entrance before sinking into it. claude gasped as he buried his face into your chest, unable to rut into you as he so desired with your purposefully straining your weight on him. 

despite not being able to think straight, your dominance over him was made clear as you set your own pace, ignoring the strain beginning to form in your thighs as you worked your way up and down his length. his size was perfect, not too difficult to take, and also able to hit all of the right spots.

despite not being allowed to put in any work, claude’s heart was hammering in his chest like he was running a marathon with strands of hair sticking to his face thanks to the beads of sweat that formed on his forehead. he struggled to find a place to put his hands with your hips moving too fast for him to grip and the little groan you would let out in the precipice of pleasure and disdain each time he tried to touch you elsewhere led to him simply gripping the sides of the wooden chair he was seated on, basically hold on for dear life while chasing an orgasm to snap you out it. 

“you did this on purpose, didn’t you, you little freak?”

“h-huh?”

“you wanted me to drink that potion, didn’t you? so that you would get fucked like a whore, just how desperate are you?”

he opened his mouth to deny the accusation but found himself unable to and let out a pathetic whimper instead. how could he deny it when it was completely true? he didn’t think you would actually drink it, only planted it on the table and allowed for chance to take the reins, but he didn’t think anything was actually going to happen.

still, there wasn’t a single ounce of regret in his body, even if you were being a little mean to him. he didn’t mind how your sharp words cut into him, it made him dizzy if anything. 

you began to slow down as the ache of constant bouncing was catching up to you, moving your hand to circle your clit and crying out when you felt yourself unravel at the contact. feeling your velvety walls pulse around him had him following shortly after when you lifted yourself off of him, causing him to finish on your lower stomach in pretty white splatters.

both of you were exhausted at the exhibition of energy on top of the long day before this situation occurred, breathing heavily as you got off the chair in favor of leaning against the table with your shaky legs. 

he couldn’t read your reaction, if the gravity of what just happened had sunk in yet or if you were still basking in the satisfaction of your climax. it made you glow in a way, making him dumbfounded and unable to meet your eyes. “i-i should go…” in a matter of minutes thanks to his stupidity, he just went from a good friend to a lowly slut in your eyes all because you were able to see right through him like glass.

however, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him back towards you, nude bodies pressed flushed against each other, kissing him fervently again with a slightly crazy edge to your actions. “yeah, no, you aren’t going anywhere. you started this mess, you’re going to help me out until the potion wears off or until we both pass out.”

[glorysbox]

breeding w di Leon ??????????😩😩

leon x afab!reader

wc: 1.8k

tags: explicitly 18+, breeding obvs, pregnancy mention, reader has breasts

“I’m getting old.” Leon mutters, pausing momentarily to sip at his mug full of coffee that you’d brewed for him a few moments earlier. You raise an eyebrow at this; head turning ever so slightly to meet his gaze. It’s been a few weeks since he’d been on the mission to Alcatraz. There’s been a personality shift that’s come over him in this time—at first, you just chalked it up to self-reflection from a near death experience.

Maybe there’s something else to it.

“You keep saying that,” you note, attention back on the kitchen counter as you prepare breakfast for the both of you. “You’re not.”

“I am. You can’t deny it. And you know, well…” he sighs, setting the mug down. “I’ve been thinking about some things. About us.”

This gets your attention. You turn fully to face him now.

He stands, advancing towards you, trapping you in between his body and the counter behind you. Leon’s lips are on yours nearly immediately—and while you appreciate the gesture and the taste of hazelnut coffee creamer that lingers in his mouth, you’re feeling a bit…

Nervous.

Your nerves quickly shift into a feeling of something else, the sensation of Leon’s hands squeezing on your waist quickening your heartbeat—that familiar aching between your thighs reddening your face at his touch. His eyes are on you as you part, examining the pretty slopes and curves of your face—but your nerves quickly shift back to that feeling of uncertainty.

“I love you,” he starts, hands furthering up your torso. One hand runs over the curve of your stomach, shifting back to the fat of your hip. “And I’ve been thinking about just how good you’d look pregnant.”

Your breath comes out in slight pants at the feeling of his hands tracing over the contour of your body. Leon leans in, placing feather-light kisses over the soft skin of your neck—the feeling of his lips and the prickle of his stubble admittedly making your knees weak. He smells good, like home; like aftershave and cologne from the night before when he’d fallen asleep with his arms around you.

His hands snake up the long shirt that you’re wearing—one of his that you’d fished from his dresser ages ago—traveling from your waist up to cup your breasts. His tongue runs over the shell of your ear, warm breath fanning over the sensitive feel of your skin. You shudder.

“Think about it. Me, you, a family…” Leon’s tone is hushed as he speaks in your ear, thumb toying at the sensitive peaks of your nipple. You feel him smile as he places a kiss on your temple, something you can hardly focus on from the feel of his hand caressing your breasts. “Don’t you want that?”

“I—” Your breath hitches at the feeling of deft fingertips running along the now sodden cotton of your panties, thighs shifting and molding around the shape of his hand between your thighs. “I… yes, of course. I mean, I’ve thought about it, but…”

“But?” He questions, tugging the wet fabric aside enough for his fingers to drag along your sticky folds. Leon’s breath fans on your neck, his cock stiff against the inside of your thigh. It’s thick and hard and throbbing and has your walls clenching around nothing—needy from just the idea of him being inside of you.

“But…” Your voice is low, teetering out pathetically at the feeling of the pad of his thumb toying with your clit. His movements are slow and methodical, circling—almost too much while simultaneously being not enough. “Your job, and…”

The way your bottom lip catches in your teeth makes him want to kiss you—and fill you with his cum—all the more. It’s been plaguing his thoughts ever since Alcatraz.

“We can work that out,” he mumbles, finger hovering around your entrance, collecting the arousal that seeps from you in anticipation. Your nails dig into the muscle of his forearm, head hanging low at the feeling of the digit threatening to breach inside of you. It’s too much. But not enough. “Work’s been slowing down. Doubt that they’d want to keep an old man like me out on the field too long anyway.”

You go to speak—you want to scold him for calling himself old, even though it’s undeniably true—but you’re cut off by the sound of your own whine at the feeling of his finger pushing its way inside of you.

He only goes as far as the first knuckle… but the gasp that falls from your lips coupled with a low moan has him a bit too eager to hear more from you. Leon inserts a second finger, the pad of his thumb pressing a fleeting amount of pressure on the sensitive bud of your clit. He’s patient as he finger-fucks you, scissoring you open with methodical movements that have your knees weak and your face hot.

You’re too busy whining his name to realize the way he’s looking at you.

Too needy to notice the way his cock throbs at the feeling of your wetness around his fingers; too drunk on his touch to see the way that his blue eyes are trained so intently on the sight of his fingers slipping out of you and pushing their way back inside. He slides his fingers out of you, marveling at the strings of sticky arousal that cling to them.

“So,” he pauses momentarily—brings his fingers to his tongue—and wraps his lips around them. “Did I convince you?”

You nod.

It’s not long before you feel the coldness of his fingers—wet from you and from his own mouth—hooking along the lace hem of your underwear to tug them down. The cotton pools at your ankles.

“You’re fucking me on the counter?” The question falls from your lips breathlessly; the feeling of his hand squeezing at the fat of your ass eliciting more noise from you than you’d be willing to admit.

“Sure am,” he mutters, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he pulls the fabric of his pants down just enough to free his cock. “Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to make up for this. I intend on—“

He hoists you up properly, arm keeping you suspended in the air, eyes on the slick sticky mess that’s littered your thighs. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist. The head of his cock prods at your entrance—leaking precum enough to leave you wondering if he’d left a sticky stain on the cotton of his gray boxers.

“—stuffing you full of cum everyday until I see a positive test.”

Something tells you that he plans to make good on his promise.

He slides into you slowly; the pace agonizing as his cock stretches and splits you open—your walls shaping around his size, nails digging further into the skin of his arm. You shudder at the sound of his voice in your ear; low and needy and whiny for the feeling of the warmth of your walls instinctively gripping around his shaft.

“Leon,” he audibly groans at the sound of his name from your lips—how breathless and pretty and needy you sound for him. “Please, I—“

His fingers leave indents in the skin of your ass, his hips pressing into you so agonizingly slow to the point where you’re beginning to ache from the feeling of needing him so desperately.

“Come on,” Leon buries himself to the hilt—reveling at the feeling of the softness of your body against his. The granite edge of the counter digs at your back; a non-issue considering the fact that you’re struggling to keep your composure at the feeling of Leon balls deep inside of you. “You can take it.”

You nod.

Crescent moon shaped indentations are left on the muscle of his back, red and angry—unnoticed by the feeling of him plunging into you; his hips flush against yours with each slip of his cock inside of you. Sticky strings of arousal begin to line down his thighs—the creamy ring pooling at the base of his cock fueling the pathetic whimpers that slip from your and his lips.

Leon roughly fucks into you, pace unforgiving as your insides uncontrollably quiver and squeeze around him. You pray that no one can hear the both of you through the opened window of your kitchen—the sound of his balls slapping against your skin entirely too loud—coupled with the noisy moans that seep from your lips and the low grunts that seep from his. You can hardly tell the color of his eyes; his pupils blown so wide that you’d mistake them for brown if you weren’t aware they were blue.

He leans forward—hips still snapping against your own—and presses his lips against your own. It’s uncoordinated. It’s needy. It’s wet and sloppy as he struggles to focus on the fact that he’s supposed to be kissing you when you feel so good and tight and wet and warm around him.

He greedily tongues at your lips and greedily ruts into your pussy, movements bordering on feral at the feeling of you and the thought of stuffing you with his cum. The pretty noises that fall from your mouth drive him forward, lips still on your own as he swallows every semblance of a mewl that you make from the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls.

Leon pulls away for a moment—lips reattaching to your neck, trailing to your throat, savoring the taste of your skin. He’s losing himself. Losing himself to the overwhelming urge to put a baby in you; to the idea of your body softening and breasts swelling and hips widening—to the idea of just how perfect you’d look with his kid in you.

You squeal at the feeling of the pad of his thumb on your clit, thighs clenching and trembling and shaking around his waist—nails digging further into the meat of his back as his relentless pace falters and rhythm stutters towards sloppiness. Leon coaxes you further towards your orgasm, motion of his thumbs pulling an orgasm from your swollen, throbbing clit; the pulsating of your walls pulling him deeper into you and effectively milking his cock.

The sight of you—back arching, legs trembling, jaw slack, body spasming—it’s too much. His cock twitches, his hips sputter; his grip on you borders on pain—and you can’t do anything but take it. You feel it before you realize it. You feel the slight quiver of his body against yours. You feel his lips on your throat, tongue pressing on the rapid pulsing of the vein on your neck. You feel the warm, sticky ropes of his cum that he’d stuffed in you with no shame.

He places slow kisses along your jawline—cock still stuffed in you, plugging his cum inside—and again, you feel the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Mm.” Leon’s voice is barely audible as he mutters in your ear. “S’ not enough. Let me give you some more.”

[phonkscribes]

The Quiet Walk from The Library, and the Squabble that Followed.

In which little Vergil and the Reader walk home from the library, both with troubles brewing as the plot thickens. Dante appears too, much to Vergil's chagrin. Here comes the sequel, thank you anon and my dearest friend Greed for requesting for part two!

Enjoy.

What the two of you read weren’t too far apart from what he liked, and admittedly it felt good to find common ground with someone for once. There wasn’t ever a need to compete or to strive to prove himself or anything of that sort when it came to meeting you in the library. He could fall into a comfortable silence, reading Blake as he liked, but a part of him couldn’t help but to look for it. Vergil was anticipating for you to say something, be it an inquiry or something other, perhaps you recognized the title in his hands. What he couldn’t have anticipated is how he had become increasingly observant of you, stealing glances from the corners of his eyes to see you were ignoring him. 

Of course you were, you were reading, and he was reading too— but while watching you read from when he would finish his stanza, he noted just how peaceful you looked. Your lashes would curtain your eyes, and one hand would support the stray locks of hair that seemed to frame your face perfectly, like text wrapping around a space in a page. He liked the way your brows would furrow slightly in thought as you read, and you, so engrossed in what you were reading and wouldn’t notice until you finally stopped to check the time. Mother was preparing supper and you didn’t want to be late for it, lest you get another earful from your father. When your gaze flicked up from the worn pages, Vergil would still, but he wasn’t afraid that he was caught. 

His sky blue eyes would remain affixed to your own, not wanting to look away. It was you who were perplexed, figuring that there must be something on your face or maybe he just wanted your attention, but far be it beyond a stupid little boy to tell you what it was. 

“… I have to go”, you’d tell him, and like a cat he’d just keep his stare. It’s unnerving, but, something you’ve steadily accepted as your norm now that you’ve made this place a home away from home. The both of you did, drawn to the high shelves in search of sanctuary. 

But you’d be leaving… not just for the day, but taken elsewhere. You had to move to a coastal city far beyond Redgrave, and you still hadn’t told him yet. You’ve been meaning to, but every time you do it makes you wistful. As silly as it was, to care so much about a boy you had only but recently met. And still, he had become someone you’d start to look forward to seeing on your daily departures to this dusty place. Vergil would lie if he said he wouldn’t miss you, or if he cared, he didn’t know that he could with such emphasis. 

“Will you be back tomorrow?”, he’d ask, finally glancing down at his own pages, glowering almost as if he too had missed something sitting on the tip of his tongue. There was something he wanted to tell you, to ask, but he wasn’t sure if he should. Or if you’d agree to what he had in mind. 

“Maybe”, you always teased. You’d always say that, and then you’d always return. It was one of the few constants he could rely upon, that you’d be there to greet him with that half smile of yours that made him churn. For all that he read, he was sure he would’ve identified it by now with his extensive reading. Whenever father returned from his trip, he would be sure to ask him. He always seemed to know just what to do.

Before he knew it though, you were rising, beginning to walk away. Just as you always did when you told him you had to go, stealing away to your home. Vergil rose just as quickly, if not faster, meeting your side instead of stealing your spot to absorb the warmth of your seat. You gave him a look as he closed his book, holding it just under his arm. What was he expecting from you now, as he bore into you with those pretty eyes. Was he going to��

“I want to walk with you. Let me come with”, he had spoken bluntly. 

Simple, and spoken without any princely prose as you’d hope to have heard fall from his lips. You were expecting something more… akin to your stories, something rightfully him even if plucked from your fantasies of grandeur with knights and villains alike. Fantasies remain in the imaginations of those that don’t wake from their dreams, and here you’ve been given the breath of reality. Another step taken, another pace earned. You manage to pinch your lips shut for just a moment, biting back the smile that wishes to stretch in earnest across your face. In spite of your best efforts it wins. 

You cannot bother to school your expression, because it makes you happiest to spend time with him. You’ve begun to understand this after getting over the little scuffle that brought you two together, as much as you tried to deny this too. 

“I suppose I could let you… don’t fall behind then”, and as you try to say it with some form of indifference, you’re unable to tear your eyes away from the way he seems to brighten at your acceptance. 

As if fearing rejection. 

You bid your farewells to the old librarian, trying to ignore the way he chuckles softly as the two of you stroll out the large double doors. The sun has begun to set, and the sky is a warm golden hue. The light is crepuscular as it shines through the clouds, passing through their opaque forms with the likeness of an oil painting. A gust of wind blows through your hair as you brave the road ahead, with little prince Vergil behind you. You turn around to see him just staring again, and he too is in agreement that the sight before him is beautiful too. 

“This way”, you gesture, and the two of you walk down the cobbled path. You can hear him jog after you, never lingering as the two of you cross through an alleyway. You’re a little taller than he is, your legs making longer strides as he increases his pace just to catch up. Looking over your shoulder, you can see him struggling some… and you can’t help but to pause. It’d be a pain if he were to get lost or unable to keep up, and you’d feel bad if he were caught out here by himself. 

“What..?”, he says as you regard him. Vergil tries to stand up taller, tilting his head up to look at you. It crosses his mind that he might be slowing you down, but he doesn’t mean to, he doesn't want to be. Your hand reaches out for his, and he lets you take it, holding onto this little piece of him as you resume your walk. 

“I forget how short you actually are”, you reply nonchalantly, still holding onto that smile from before, “So I’ll hold your hand… Just so you don’t get lost or anything, okay?”

”You don’t need to do that, I wouldn’t get lost”, he huffs, but he isn’t pulling away from you. 

Your hand is soft, not marred by callouses like his are from sword fighting with his brother, Dante. His thumb brushes over yours as he feels the back of your hand with the pad of his finger. And there it goes again, that weird feeling in his gut, something that begets happiness. The two of you continue your stroll back to your home, just a ways away on the opposite side of town. It was on the opposite side of his own home, he noted, but you two lived a ways away from everyone else it’d seem. 

Vergil’s hand is cold in yours as you lead him, carefully taking the streets and roads that are the least busy. Even outside of the library, he noted how careful you were, hiding even when you didn’t need to be. Your meekness was something he could not yet understand. With the other people passing along, you made sure to keep out of their way if there were any there. When there would be people that dared to walk too close to the two of you, Vergil would issue them a very sharp glare, threatening to growl as they steered themselves clear. Though as small as he was, he had no trouble playing the role of guard dog for you. 

If only ever for you. He didn’t need to defend other people as often as he felt the need to defend himself, and even then… 

“Sorry that I took you so far, you probably don’t even live anywhere near here, huh?”, you’d asked, “It’s getting dark and I don’t want you to go back out there alone”

Vergil, who had not even been paying attention to the approaching destination, had only blinked at you then. It has? But the sky was golden, there was still so much time, so he had thought. He didn’t want to have to go just yet. That much was apparent by the way his brow furrowed and his lips curled into a tiny frown. You’d regard him again, not wanting him to go back home either, what if something happened to him? Your heart ached at the thought alone, and you were about to tell him to wait a moment before you saw someone else draw near. 

“Vergil! There you are! What the heck are you doing all the way out here..? Who’s that?”, spoke the little boy, who could’ve been his clone truly.

He had the same silver hair, sitting on a mop on his head instead of being slicked back. For a first time, you’d see your library partner startle, eyes widening as he whipped around with a scowl already adorning his face. It didn’t take very long for you to register this kid as his twin, but Vergil made no mention of him to you. 

“Dante! What are you doing here?! Did you follow me?”, he hissed.

”Mom told me to go get you for dinner, but instead of going back you went away from the library! You’re gonna be in so much trouble~”, he teased his brother. 

“Um…”, you stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say or what to do. You had to go in, but at least there was someone here to walk Vergil home. That way he’d be safe, knowing his brother was looking out for him too. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow..!”, he called over his shoulder as his brother began to drag him away. You watched, holding your hands together as you watched him get smaller and smaller on the horizon. You’d definitely poke at him about that tomorrow when you’d see him. 

. . . . . ╰──╮

He couldn’t help but to give his brother a good shove when he was a way’s away from your home, and he would’ve been in slightly better spirits if his brother hadn’t been there to ruin the discovery as he tended to ruin many things for him. It’s so hard to believe that this is his brother, his twin brother, the ‘other half of his soul’ or something like that. Father put it that way, and so he had come to accept it as truth, but this was truly galling. Dante wouldn’t stop with his teasing and his poking and prodding and it drove him up the wall. His favorite secret had been revealed, and just as when he had anything bestowed upon him, his brother would have to come and have his share of it too. 

Sharing was caring, so he’d been told, but can’t he have something to himself? Something that wouldn’t be taken away just because Dante had wanted it too? He felt his hackles rise as his brother shoved him back, undeterred as he always was. 

“What do you two even do at the library anyway? Seems too dark and dreary to have any real fun, like when we sword fight!”, he piped up, moving back to his side. 

“Well you wouldn’t get it anyway”, he huffed, folding his arms, “just leave it be, okay?”, he groaned as he rolled his eyes at his doddering brother. So annoying.��

But for all his jesting and jokes, Dante could see that Vergil was happy, and if his brother was happy then so would he be. He was only saddened of course, by the fact that he wouldn’t be able to play with him as much as he used to now that he would always be at the library. He’d just have to go there too then, to catch the two of them there together so that they could all hangout. That way, he wouldn’t be alone at the manor by his lonesome. Dante jogged up to meet his brother as he had taken to walking ahead again, following the path you had shown him, his hand still warmed from where you had been holding it. 

Eventually when they did return, Dante was right when their mother had begun telling him off for being so late to come home, worried that something had happened to him. As if there would be anything that could harm a son of Sparda, it’s not like he was some helpless little kid. He was the heir to the legendary dark knight, and one day he’d hope to don the shining armor that he’d seen his father wear. Perhaps he’d start training right after dinner though, he couldn’t help but to wince at his mother’s shrill voice as she lectured him about being safe and cautious. Just as any mother would be for her child. It’s not like Vergil could know, of the enemies his father has made or of the lengths they’d be willing to go through in order to hurt him. 

The three of them sat altogether, eating the stew that their mom had made, Dante scarfing his food down as per usual while Vergil took his time. He looked off to the side, to the courtyard through the kitchen window where he could see their training dummies in the dark. As his belly grew full with supper, thoughts of swordplay dwindled as he pictured tomorrow and how he’d get to spend it with his friend in the quiet part of the library. He’d see you, and he’d get to spend his days reading, hoping that his brother wouldn’t follow him and ruin it for him. He’d show you just how fun he could be, more so than his brother– but why did that even matter to him now? He couldn’t bare the thought of you finding him more fun than he was. 

In his bed, he turned on his side, staring at the ceiling as Dante laid in the bed opposite to him. His brother hadn’t fallen asleep just yet either, even when he was the first to fall after dinner. Vergil furrowed his brow as he glanced over to him on the bed, sensing his stare through the dark, his in-twin-tion having gone off. 

“What is it, Dante?”, he asked, none too pleased to be stared at without a word. Funny how that is. 

“Tomorrow, can I come with you to the library too?”, he asked. 

“Absolutely not”, Vergil shot back, “That’s my special place, and I won’t have you there to make a mess of things”

“I won’t make a mess..!”, he whined. 

“You will” “I won’t!” “You will”

“But I wanna hangout with you too, and your friend..! We never hangout anymore! It’s like you like hanging out over there more than you like hanging out with me…”, and… he would’ve argued back that he was being a pain, but hearing the hurt in his voice gave him pause. 

“... that’s not… true. I like hanging out with you too”, as much as he would voice his protests, he couldn’t deny the excitement of being so thoroughly tried by his brother. But, he could always play with him, he could do that whenever he wanted. But he didn’t know that you were running out of time. 

You both were. 

[partycatty]

OKAY BUT LIKE..

I NEED a part 2 of eyes on the prize!! Like I wanna know if it alters the present!! Like maybe older Johnny just stares at readers breast and doesnt know why or maybe he’s distant, maybe flirtatious? How it affects their relationship with well, everyone in the S.F

johnny cage > something shifts

something about your timeline alters after you flash your boss's younger counterpart.

warnings: dilfy is kinda creepy here

notes: younger johnny is "johnny." older johnny is "cage."

[ read part one here ] [ masterlist ]

• shortly after your admittedly shameful spur-of-the-moment decision, you and younger johnny packed up shop and assumed you were needed back in the intel room, clothed and mature. as you walked through the hallway, your skin prickled and the air felt thicker as you walked. brushing it off as newfound heat for the timeline jumper beside you, you tried your best to ignore it and focus on the job.

• "so, how about that number?" johnny nudges your arm, pulling you from your thoughts. you shake your head with a smirk.

• "do you expect our phones to connect across entire timelines?" you grin up at him, brow cocked. he shrugs, adjusting his sunglasses.

• "so you bet on a losing battle! and hey, who said i was going anywhere?" his tone has returned to his playboy attitude, though you know his ego is still bruised from your smart move.

• "seems like older you says so," you respond, eyes forward. "lieutenant cage might burst a blood vessel if we kept you around."

• "old fart me just forgot how to have fun," johnny brushes... himself(?) off, rolling his shoulders as you two near the room with your colleagues. a quick adjustment of your gear and a tug of your collar later, the metal doors slide open with a scan of a keycard.

• lieutenant cage stands near the door, head snapping in your direction with wide, curious eyes. his gaze softens as it locks on you, quickly turning to a furrowed, conflicted glare.

• "gone a while," cage observes, standing straight. "i said keep an eye on him, not let him poke around the compound."

• "cool it, gramps," johnny's quick to butt in. "you guys have awesome future gear and i wanted to snag a look at it. no big deal, nothing broken, mini-me."

• "you're mini-me," cage corrects johnny with a scowl. "this is the present."

• your head spins at their conversation. "my apologies, lieutenant."

• there it is again. that gentle analytical stare. "don't worry about it." cage's hand rubs the bottom half of his face, grounding himself as he physically shakes his head to rid of the foggy thoughts brewing in his mind.

• some time passes as the timeline mixup becomes a graspable concept now, everyone discussing their solutions and understandings of the odd scenario. you sat at one of the monitors, desk chair facing outward as you chatted with a coworker, aimless talk that was even harder to focus on when you glanced past them to notice the two men staring daggers into you.

• johnny's feet rested on the desk, his teeth absentmindedly toying with a pen. cage's head is tilted, thick arms crossed but eyes averted downward. which is to say, entirely transfixed on your tits. as someone with them, it was a second sense to know when they're being stared at, so there was no doubt in your mind what he was doing.

• your body heats exponentially faster. sure, flashing johnny was one thing, but since then, cage has been giving you nothing but funny looks. did he catch you two on the security cameras, you wonder?

• cage shifts in his seat, subtly adjusting himself before muttering to johnny. "it's bothering me."

• "what? how hot that rack is?" johnny replies with a cackle, earning a solid whack on the back of the head. "don't be mad that i'm right, old man. you're totally into it."

• "i wasn't before," cage honestly admits, lips concealed by his hand it props up on the armrest. "at least, i don't think so."

• johnny is silent for a long moment. "don't be mad."

• cage swivels, now facing his younger self directly. "what the hell did you do?"

• "me? nothing!" he holds his hands up in a faux surrender. "what happened wasn't even my fault."

• cage pales, assuming his younger self to be far grosser than he was in the moment. "you didn't bang anyone, did you?"

• "not yet," johnny wags a finger. "though i bet you're picturing a nice set right about now. i know that look."

• cage's anger had a veil of daydreaming about it, something glossy in his stare. sure enough, yeah, somehow and someway he was able to fully envision you underneath him, breasts rippling and nipples hardened from the cool air. the memory slips from him the moment it becomes coherent.

• it was starting to make sense now. the new memories were being forcibly implanted into his brain, a new set of wires connecting at this development. and damn, you were looking sexier by the minute.

• cage stands with a huff, chair scratching the floor and silencing the room as they observed the sudden movement. he exits the room, finding the nearest break room. a smaller, shut away room complete with a water dispenser was his personal oasis when he grabbed a paper cup, gulping it down with intense thirst.

• he couldn't shake the violently sudden attraction to you. wondering if he might burst if he kept being in the room with you, scent and body overwhelming his every sense, cage shakes his head and splashes himself with water, eyes transfixed on the faucet as he tries to distract himself from the increasingly vivid image of your sweet skin and alluring form.

• you needed answers. "lieutenant." your voice pulls him back to reality, and he only gets a moment to adjust his hard-on before turning to face you. his jaw clenches as he meets his gaze with you as you stand in the doorway. "you seem bothered."

• cage's voice is colder than he meant for it to be. "i'm fine, no need to pry." his desire was consuming, pissing him off beyond belief that he needed to take you as soon as the opportunity arises. "just needed a break from the timeline nonsense is all." he pauses, taking another sip of the water as he thinks about his younger self. "i can be a lot."

• "that, i understand," you laugh with a deep breath, wondering why you felt so compelled to follow him. "a real charmer." you freeze, wondering if complimenting himself was a wise decision.

• cage's expression was dubious, unreadable. "you still think i am?"

• a smirk tugs at your lips. "what?"

• "charming," he clarified. "do you think i'm still charming?"

• there's no need to ponder the question. "i'd say so. the whole johnny cage flair thing is a hard thing to ignore, if i may say so, sir."

• cage's expression is dark. "you may." his eyes lock onto your chest, his own heaving.

• you follow his gaze. "you know what we did, don't you?" your face burns.

• "i have an idea," he mutters, face twitching as his gaze traces the plumpness of your boobs. "i feel different."

• so you know your boss has officially seen your tits in his memories now. your curiosity is piqued, butterflies tugging in your stomach as you inspect his wrinkles deepen. "did you like them?"

• the cup is quickly discarded, his eyes unmoving as he nods slowly. his gaze flicks up to your own as you bat your lashes his way. confidence surges through you after your realization of the timeline altering.

• "to be frank with you," he chuckles dryly, rubbing at the back of his neck. your fingers dance on the hem of your shirt with a bubbling need. "can't say i'd mind seeing them again. refresh my memory, would you?"

[chubbybunny25]

while working on my wips, i'm feeling a bit nostalgic so have an excerpt of my first percico fic When You Think About It. i love the idea of campers not putting more powerful demigods on a pedestal but being challenged by them. this is from ch3.

”I’m not a child, Will. I’ve been practicing with my powers for many months now,” Nico chides Will after the son of Apollo tried to stop him from shadow-traveling them back to camp.

It’s true. Whenever Hazel would visit, both children of the Underworld would train with some kids of Hecate to practice shadow or mist manipulation.

For the past few months, he’d also go sparring with Jason and Percy, since, as children of the Big Three, they wouldn’t need to hold back with their powers and they could definitely go all-out.

He would even team up with Jason during Capture the Flag. At other times, with Percy. With Jason, they’d usually brew small dark snow storms, Jason controlling the winds and Nico freezing some with his cold shadows. With Percy, they’d build shadowy walls everywhere in the forest that would turn it into a misty and eerie maze. Sometimes, when Percy would feel extra powerful, he’d summon liquid from the forest floor to be frozen by the Ghost King.

In a way, as much as it frustrated the other campers, it challenged them, too. For one, Clarisse had never been so adamant in joining forces with the Stolls and the Hermes Cabin to create perfect traps that survive snow storms or floods. Annabeth had never been more keen on working with Leo and the Hephaestus Cabin to build small automatons that could see in the dark. Hazel, too, would be seen conspiring with the Demeter Cabin and Hecate Cabin to actually conjure plants that emit light and shoot fire. No one had ever seen Piper and Drew more determined to work together to charmspeak the hordes of skeletons Nico would call into action.

“Sorry, I’m just—”

“Worried, I know, Will,” Nico supplies, amused.

They talked about that while watching the sunset (it’s almost nightfall now), that they’d be better off as friends. Will would just keep on hovering over him like this. Admittedly, Will also realized Nico’s point that while the medic was a great person, the son of Hades couldn’t just follow every health advice from him.

Nico is a child of the Underworld, one of the children of the Big Three. A large part of who he is comes from his heritage and his powers.

“I guess you need someone who is as powerful as you. Unless they experience that kind of power and danger firsthand, they’d always worry for you, Nico,” Will said solemnly. “Like I worry about you.” 

“It's not that, Will. I’m just... not sure it'd be fair for either of us to have a relationship based on worrying.” What if there isn’t something to worry about him anymore?

Will didn’t have an answer to that. Nico didn’t expect one.

[n0tamused]

Hiya

Please can I request some hurt/comfort with Kaveh, like maybe the reader gets injured. Also I saw on one of your posts a couple months ago you weren't secure with writing him, so if you still aren't I would mind Alhaitham or Ayato <3

A/n: Hello, I'm not sure where I was going with this honestly, I haven't written for Kaveh in what feels like a decade so I hope I didn't butcher him. However, I admittedly rushed a bit so I can get back to you with it and I do hope I was able to provide some comfort to you with this. Hope you enjoy🌙

Contents: Kaveh x reader, gn, hurt angst to fluff, sensitive reader? Imo... Drabble wordvomit

“Where have you been?! Do you know how worried I was about you-” the loudness his tone reached pulled the octaves of his voice higher, unlike the sweet lilt he usually addresses you with. Turning your head sharply to look at him through the thin veil of the dark night, your tear stained cheeks stun him for a good moment, making him choke back words and audibly he stutters and sputters as his eyes widen further. His eyes flicker over your face, across your features until he follows the bend of your arms that hold your leg and foot, both hastily wrapped in bandages - if the situation wasn't as dire as it was Kaveh would've scoffed and made fun of it. 

“Where were you-” he asks again, his voice swimming in fear as a chill runs up his spine despite the scalding desert air. More than one question is squeezed into those three words as he rushes over to kneel beside you. Cautious, airy hands hover over the ankle and the shin of your leg, but he refuses to touch you, as if you break from the simplest of touches. He looks up into your eyes again, silently pleading for a response to all the questions brewing in his mind. “What happened to you? Were you attacked? W-When did this happen? Do you not know how long I've been looking for you?!-”

Mehrak swoops into the sands, releasing a little sound that was both alarm and curiosity, the blinking green dots for eyes angled in your direction. Soft little beeps come from the suitcase looking machinery, yet you have little strength to pay any attention to it. 

“I-I’m fine..! I just sprained my ankle really badly while I was looking for you and.. I couldn’t walk properly, I thought I wouldn’t be able to make it back” you explain, a breath of ease filling your lungs as you paw at your eyes with your hands to dry your tears, fear still grasping your bones with chilly hands. Not only were you dazed from the scorching sun, but now the cooling night air was slowly creeping up, already heralding a fever in your fatigued muscles. “I didn’t even know which direction to go in, everything looks the same around here” adding that, Kaveh holds his breath as he carefully takes your shin in hand to lift it from the ground, his other hand holding your foot to take a better look at it. He could smell the fear on you and he couldn’t blame you one bit for feeling so scared, he had his moments too where he thought he was lost to the dunes. But not a moment has passed before he was already gritting his teeth, saying “I shouldn’t have agreed to bring you this far out.. ugh, and to even leave you alone.. Why did you go after me? I told you to stay in the shade, I wasn't going to be away for so long and..” he sighs, nearly wincing as he trails off. 

He’s grumbling, taking the whole weight of the blame on his shoulders, again, his brows knitting together, angling in sadness as his chin lightly tips down so he could look at your foot, gently probing the skin. 

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have been so stubborn to leave the camp.. Had I gone any further out..” you trail off, dreading to think what could have happened. 

Kaveh goes to open his mouth and say something, ready to scold you and lecture you all about how Eremites could have found you, mercenaries, scorpions, and how all of it could have impact him if all he found of you was pieces hanging between a vulture’s beak. He shivers and closes his mouth, remembering the fear and glistening tears on your eyes, tears of frustration and fear and fatigue no doubt. 

Keep quiet, Kaveh, he scolds himself instead. 

“But you did not, and that is good.. that is a relief.. Would you like to try and stand, with my help of course. We still need to get back to camp” his voice mellows out towards the end, and he lets go of your ankle when you wince at one particular touch from his fingers. He lowers it to the sand slowly and turns to look at you, his elbow resting on his knee.

“No..no..I tried. But… Let me try again” you persist, suddenly feeling a wash of determination to ease his worry or perhaps prove to yourself that what you've done isn't as stupid as it was. Kaveh looks at you, unsure but he doesn't go against it as you're already grasping on his shoulder and trying to lift yourself up.

His hands fly to your waist, stabilizing you when you stumble, bringing you closer to his side so you have something to hold on to. But it all came crashing down when you accidentally went to step on your injured foot, sending a shock of pain up your body. Kaveh sighs, frustrated at the situation, and he is swift to lower you back to the ground. “You can't walk with a foot like that..” he says through his teeth, his heart constructing painfully at your own pain. For what seems like the nth time, he sighs and his arms swoop underneath you. “Hang on to me.. let's try this. One, two and- three” he tells you, and waits until you're clinging onto him before he lifts you up in his embrace. 

His arm is underneath your knees and the other supports your back, and now that you're closer to him you can feel the shaky breaths he's pulling into his lungs. He's refusing to look at you now as he begins to tread through the moving sand underfoot. 

“Kaveh…” you whisper as you look at him, greeted by the side of his face. The fine sheen of sweat is visible in the dying daylights, and his hair is a complete mess, and you can feel grains of sand throughout his scarves and clothing.  “Are you… alright?”

“I am alright.. just..” he looks to the side for a moment, his eyelids falling heavy over his dark colored eyes. “I was just really worried about you..” he confessed, as if it was hard to tell. Were it any sort of other situation, you would've teased and cackled at him, but you can feel his tense muscles begging to feel you, and you're sure he'll begin trembling at any moment.

“Oh, Kaveh…” you coo gently, creeping onto his shoulder like a shy doe, apologetic and sad. “I'm sorry.. I really am. I am fine now, okay? It's just a sprained ankle, it happened before, and this surely isn't the last time I'll sprain it”

Kaveh steals a glance at you, his eyes flickering over your face before he turns his gaze forward again, watching how Mehrak floated ahead to light the way in green and pale lime hues.  “It's alright..  I'm just glad to have found you, and that the injury wasn't any worse. But I hope you know I will not forget this, ever” his tone gains a part of its natural flare and passion, still wishing to scold you as if that would teach you a lesson and make you forget how to get hurt.

“I promise to be more careful, okay? Will that soothe you any better?” You lean the side of your head on his shoulder, feeling the tension slowly melting from his shoulders.

“Yeah, right. That's what you said last time as well, and look where that got you”

“Last time there was an accident, that guy pushed me!”

“Oh, spare me- and this wasn't an accident?-”

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[badlywritten-stuff2]

Noa x reader headcanons – first encounters, first impressions

Ok so I’ve been trying to brew up some of these bad boys bc what better way to start up writing again than some headcanons? Trick question there is no better way

And I’m a sucker for headcanons I’m negl. So onward and upward we go

Could also think of this as me setting up some contexts for future stuff I may write for Noa, because I am also a sucker for backstory

RELATIONSHIP[S]: implied! Noa x reader

MEDIA: Planet of the Apes, Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes

WORDS: 3.8k

SUMMARY: headcanons of how you meet Noa! Including being from a bunker vs living on the surface

WARNINGS: Animal death :[ sorry, typical violence for kotpota, lots and lots of describing. It’s more bullet-point story telling than it is headcanons? But I think that’s ok, some spelling errors

So first time meeting is strange—depends on what your background is, if that makes sense. I have a couple ideas in mind bc I loved what they did with Mae, but I also love the idea of like. Nomadic people living above ground bc the mindset of ‘fuck the government and fuck you bunker dwellers too’ has persisted—at least in spirit

I really detest the implication [at least what I got] at the end of the movie where most, if not all, intelligent people who managed to avoid the simian flu or were immune went underground. Unrealistic and unsexy so we living wildstyle

I had major Horizon Zero Dawn inspo for it bc I love that game to pieces

Strange either way tho bc you’re an Echo, your legs are lanky and weirddddd

Either a nomad or from a bunker you know what he is and he knows what you are, the only difference being how you both handle it

Being from the bunker, growing up you were taught that the best way to stay safe if you ever encountered an Ape was to act like you were devolved. Sounds derogatory but stay with me babe

Many Apes on the surface knew humans were rare, intelligent ones even rarer, so any smart humans that were encountered were collected for knowledge, imprisoned or hunted for sport. Something about a few apes taking a sick sense of pleasure knowing what they were hunted knew they were being toyed with. Thrill of the kill—think Proximus and his manipulated followers and how we first met them

When you first encountered Noa, of whom you’d unknowingly wandered into his Clan’s territory, you had luckily left your bag, loaded weapon and supplies hidden under the leaves of a bush. You were squatted down at the edge of a lake, holding a makeshift water filter attached to a bottle of water, and you had dropped it into some reeds at the sound of something approaching

As soon as you saw Noa push through the bushes you went to basic training; you became just an animal, not aware of anything higher than being thirsty

Noa’s eyes widened when he realized just exactly what he was looking, it was admittedly an amusing and uncannily familiar sight, and had you not been frightened you would’ve chuckled

You remained squatted, blinking owlishly at him while he reciprocated your gaze, his hold on the bramble of sticks he held remained in his grasp. He observed you, his jade eyes boring into yours and you prayed that he could not detect the intelligence in you

After observing you, the thoughts hidden within your mind on the verge of a full body freakout, he grabbed one of the branches he held slowly and pointed it towards you. He gestured it at you a couple of times before huffing at you, motioning the stick with a finer finesse in his wrist

He tentatively stepped forward, until the stick tapped against your knee. You pulled away slightly, trying to seem perplexed. He huffed once again, moving your knee some with the stick.

Was. Was this god damn Ape trying to shoo you away? Like you were a pest?

But you had no choice if you intended to hold up your rouse, you thought it a miracle that he hadn’t attacked you yet

You huffed, feigning animality, and slowly stood. You took a step back, looking widely at the stick and back to him, before you turned on the ball of your foot and ‘scampered away’ into the forest behind you. You ducked down and snagged your bag where you left it, hoping there was enough foliage hiding you from him while you dashed away

You hopped over a log, maneuvered around low hanging branches and in-the-way bushes, you needed to get away from that ape as fast as you—fuck! You came to a halt, your boots dragging against the earth from your sudden stop.

You felt your water filter device and your water bottle!! What the fuck!!!

You had another bottle in your bag, but you only had one filter, the one you left. You had to go back, but the thought petrified you. there was an Ape there, an ape male for that matter. They were dangerous, and if provoked it could end fatally for you.

But you had to go back, trying to craft a new filter with the little supplies you had for a new one, it would be worth at least trying to get it back. Maybe you running off made him lose interest and he had already fucked off to wherever he came from.

You hoped

You made your way back, tracking the boot prints you left in the dirt and crushed into the grass, crouching lower down as you approached the lake.

You peaked your head out from the leaves, swivelling your eyes to and from. Thankfully, the ape was gone and the breath you’d been holding in quickly whooshed out. You stood from your crouch and walked towards the bank where you were, and dug through the muddy dirt speckled with the roots of tall reeds

Where is it, where is it? Where could I have dropped it?, you thought, your fingers becoming coated with the mud.

You came to a spot in the mud which had an indent, perfectly shaped to be snug around your water bottle, and filter

That son of a bitch. He took it.

It slammed into your head like a wave. That ape, that ape you had managed to escape from flawlessly, had found your water filter then had the audacity to take it with him.

Either cut your losses and try to find the tools necessary to make another one, or chase that damned ape and see if there is any possibility of you getting it back. Running was the safer option, really; you had little interest in putting your life at risk, and running after a monkey only god knows where would certainly endanger your wellbeing

But you were human, simple as that. You felt that that filter was yours, you had made it yourself through following the instructions of a dusty survival guide and it was yours, damnit!

You kicked the mud when you stood, like that would do anything other than make you feel better. But looking down revealed to you just what your next move would be. That being, a footprint shaped like an ape’s caught your eye.

You figured you were decent enough at tracking. Onward you went, in pursuit of your filter.

Now, had you been born on the surface, things were a tad different.

The safest ape was a dead ape. You were taught this from young, it was reared into you from the second you could form your first words. Protecting your own was wired into your way of life, branded into your brain and blood

Apes were stronger, faster. Your tribe moved from place to place to avoid apes, but this often didn’t work.

You’ve been attacked before. Once. They arrived in the night.

Apes adorned in masks, wielding staffs that burned with blue fire. You awoke to the sound of screams, desperate cries, skin prickling hoots and howls, and hoofs battering against the earth

You’d leapt out of your cot, grabbed your own weapon and charged out of your tent, coming face to face with a masked ape. It appeared to be startled, you took advantage of that precious moment by cracking your weapon across its head—it dropped momentarily, but you were relentless in your defense. You bludgeoned in its skull, splattering your own skin in its blood

By the time the sun rose and the birds began to sing, your entire camp was coated in blood. You burned many that day, the flames engulfing your loved ones reflecting across your eyes

This was the catalyst. This attack was like nothing you’ve experienced before. The apes that attacked you were merciless, killing who they could and dragging away others into the night. You needed to find another place to live.

You recognized that no matter where you went you were never going to be safe, but there had to be somewhere better. Somewhere safer, where the only time you had to lay to rest someone you cared about was when their life peacefully ended; Not living their last moments brutalized.

You saddled a horse, packing everything you could need; your mission was clear. You cast back one more look at your home before riding away.

At the same time, unbeknownst to you, the events of kotpota were taking place. After defeating Proximus, Noa inherited the title of Master of Eagles and took his rightful place as leader of the Eagle Clan—all the works

I imagine that you encountered Noa about a month and a half post-kotpota and you met through a mutual necessity, feeding yourself

You’ve been tracking a herd of white-tailed deer for two days, and you had managed to pinpoint the weakest link in the small herd; a wounded male, lagging behind the rest of his unit but nevertheless persistent. He’d keep your hunger at bay for a few days at the very least

You had an arrow notched in your bow, slowly stalking behind the wounded male through the thick bushes. He seemed out of breath, his infected leg staggering under his weight. You inhaled, aimed, then let the arrow loose.

The arrow pierced the buck at the juncture between his ribcage and shoulder, he yelped and dashed away but you were hot on his tail, replacing your bow with a bola. You ran as fast as you could but even wounded the buck was faster, you threw your bola but you weren’t able to replicate the precision you had with the bow; the bola wrapped around a tree instead of the ankles of the buck

Luckily, the buck was bleeding, and you were able to follow the substantial trail until you found him on the ground, breathing rapidly. You felt guilt snag your heart, before swiftly putting him to rest

You stood up from the buck, thinking about how you needed to now figure out how carry him back to your camp, when you heard the shuffling of bushes behind you

You whipped around, arming yourself with your bow once again and pulling back an arrow, you felt your stomach drop into your gut and twist as the origin of the noise revealed itself from the bushes. You were standing face to face with your worst enemy: an ape

You hadn’t expected it, truly, you thought it would’ve been anything else. Your first choice would’ve usually been to pretend you weren’t intelligent as feigning that more animal-ish nature that mimicked the majority of humankind had kept them relatively safe, but your bow and arrow in hand was incredibly incriminating. You’ve blown your only chance of cover before you realized what your opponent would be

It’s a chimpanzee, no less. One of the most dangerous of the apes, you’d heard. A fable you were told about the old world was a story of how a woman had her face mutilated by a chimp, and while miraculously she had survived she lived the rest of her life disfigured. There were others you had heard, but this one chilled you the deepest.

You scrutinized him at the end of your arrowhead, he was large, a fully mature male. His muscles appeared to ripple under his fur across his broad chest and shoulders, going down into thick arms. The leathery looking texture of his large hands tightly gripped a toothed spear. Every fibre and tendon moving together in perfect motion, capable of a ferocity you’ve only ever been the victim of. You saw his lips curl back slightly, and within his maw you could partially see the ferocious canines inside. You could picture his jaws around your neck, you helpless and flailing to get away from him only to bleed further down his throat. You swallowed the lump in your esophagus, feeling a bead of sweat sliding down your brow

To your horror, he wasn’t alone; there were two others with him. Another chimp and a bonobo. The first ape stepped forward and you couldn’t help the reflexive step back you took. You inhaled sharply, pulling your arrow back further against the draw string of your bow.

This large ape straightened his stance, lifting himself to seem bigger than the larger-than-life size he already was, his domineering stare penetrating through your eyes and into your mind. You could feel your heart beginning to pound in your ears, your chest squeezing and airway choking off, your hands becoming heated and slick with sweat. I’m going to die here, was screaming within your mind, I’m going to die here, I’m going to die here, I'm going to die here,

“Who… are you? what are you… doing here…?” he spoke. The damned ape spoke. And the way he said it left you feeling like there was no room to refuse him an answer, it was terrifying, it was electrifying, it made your stomach churn.

It seemed like you had taken a second too long to answer him, so he protruded again with another question. “I said… who… are you? And what are you doing… here?” he took another step forward

Your bow shook between your fingers but you refused to lower the weapon, it was the only thing standing between you and your potential killer. “I’m hungry. I need to eat.”

The ape did not spare your eyes, his stare still locking yours into his.

“This is ape territory. Echo… not supposed to be… here.” The tenor in his voice made you want to tremble, but you held firm. What the hell was an echo?

You finally manage to break free of his withering stare, casting your gaze down to the deer. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Just give me the buck and I’ll go.”

He didn’t relent in his look. “Ape… also hunting. Came here, saw you… followed.” After he finished speaking his lip curled slightly up, barely noticeable if it weren’t for you staring him down. The other two apes behind him were following closer to him, not close enough for them to feel like they were on you, but close enough that you could see them better in your peripherals.

The thing you said next probably wasn’t smart, but adrenaline mixed with the intoxicating smell of blood and sweat was starting to make you go into a primal delirious haze. “I want the buck. I hunted it and killed it, myself. It’s mine.”

The other two apes started hooting at you behind him before he raised his hand, to which then they stopped. Still intense, he responded, “…ok. Apes take part… Echo take part.”

Was he referring to you as an Echo? He must’ve been, unless there was someone behind you

You inhaled, followed by a shaky exhale. “…ok.”

It was a blur to you, cutting and bloody, but at the end you found yourself near a creek with two hindlegs, with the apes holding the rest of the deer. You thought it quite generous, considering there were three of them and only a single you. You doubted it, but you swore that the other two seemed curious at their presumed leader.  They kept moving their hands rapidly at him while they worked, to which at one point he made his own motions and they both stopped

The leader, his hands and up his forearms smeared in red blood, spoke to you again. “Echo… take food and go home. Ape… take deer and go… home.” His stare was less withering, but you couldn’t break away from his eyes again. You gulped and nodded.

He turned away, helping the other two with carrying parts of the deer. He turned to look at you once again, stating his last words to you

“Echo… will not come back.”

He and the other two apes left into the foliage, their dark fur blending them into the array of plants and wood.

You stood firmly, your feet planted into the ground almost as deep as the surrounding plants. Your two deer legs were wrapped in a cloth you had stuffed in your bag, the smell of blood less prominent but strongly lingering. You were… spared. You were shown, in a terrifying moment, mercy. You had expected to be attacked, to be ganged up on, that was all the reference you had for apes. Apes were dangerous, they were violent, they could kill you in under a minute if they wanted.

And yet he didn’t. He let you live, he even let you keep some of the prey you hunted.

He shouldn’t have done that, that didn’t fit the image of what an ape meant inside your mind. He was supposed to kill you right there and you were supposed to die. That is how it always went, isn’t it?

You followed.

Objectively it was a bad idea, going directly against his order of you leaving, but you reasoned that if you were going to find an area in this valley to bring your tribe, you were going to familiarize yourself with the apes that occupied the area.

Maybe the other apes in this valley were like the group you just encountered.

You managed to follow behind them just long enough to eventually track them to their base—village? It certainly resembled a village

Tall structures which touched the sky, huts strewn about and crops growing from the ground. You jumped when you heard the screech of an eagle over head, flying inside the very top of a building. Pressuring your eyes to focus, you saw that there seemed to be many eagles in one place.

You felt the air push out of your lungs for the second time this day; amazing.

Going back to if you were from a bunker, Noa had much to think about

An Echo, no doubt from the valley beyond. You were by yourself and had seemed like majority of the echos he had seen aside from Mae, you were an animal. However, he couldn’t help but pause and mull his thoughts over in his mind; you were dressed in a way similar to Mae when he had first encountered her

Initially, when he had first seen Echos they all wore animal hides and rags of old fabrics. Mae stuck out like a sore thumb, her clothes fitting neatly around her body and not dangling like the vines of a willow. What you wore was similar, fabric stretched across your body, arms and legs covered alongside your feet. Almost identical to what Mae wore. That must’ve meant that you were like her

But when he bore his gaze down onto you, you peered at him like you had no idea what he was. You had blinked owly, your eyes round and staring directly up to him. You hadn’t said anything, you remained where you were until he shooed you away; which should’ve concluded his thoughts, you were in fact like most echos

But then that didn’t make sense either, because he had found something, and he had no idea what it was. It was made with a substance he wasn’t familiar with, and it crinkled in his hands. It had layers of small rocks and sand, all intricately placed with water dripping through and dribbling off the rim. He had never seen anything like it before.

He wanted to be convinced you had made it, but other than it being left by you, he had no proof; he hadn’t seen you make it, if that was possible. Did you see it along your way, and thought it was interesting? Did you make it, and his sudden presence startled you and made you forget it? He didn’t know. He studied it in his hands before taking it with him.

From what he had observed, you had given him no reason to think that you were different. However, while he walked through the lush forest behind him, every now and then hearing the snap of a twig or the shuffling of leaves or clumsy feet across the earth behind him, he had concluded that you were following him. Just like Mae did.

Maybe you were like Mae. Maybe he should’ve made sure you wouldn’t have followed him, but who’s to truly say.

Returning to if you were born on the surface, Anaya and Soona questioned Noa as to why he had let you go so generously

“Echo held weapon in your face!” Anaya insisted, following closely by Soona. “Echo… could have killed Noa!”

“But Echo did not.” Noa kept moving forward, his eyes focused ahead on his path, not glancing back to either Soona or Anaya

“Noa, please,” Soona reached out and grabbed Noa’s forearm, which moved him to finally look back to his friends. “Echo could’ve hurt Noa… Anaya right, Echo had a weapon pointed... at Noa. Why Noa let Echo have deer? Why Noa not chase Echo away?”

Noa puffed out through his nose. He thought back to your face, your eyes glazed in terror, your trembling hands contradicted the lethal weapon you desperately clung to. His heart had started to beat within his own ribcage when he saw you, he wouldn’t lie. He had not expected that when he had walked through the bushes, he’d come face to face with an Echo, the shock tightening his shoulders and neck. He made an effort to look into your eyes and when he saw you staring back, he saw the same fear that rested within himself.

“Noa did not chase Echo… because Echo was scared.” He looked to his sun sister, then sun brother. “Noa thought… if Echo became not afraid… Echo would be… reasoned with.” He looked down to the ground, it felt stupid to say out loud.

Soona looked back to Anaya, who’s brows were furrowed in confusion, then Soona looked back to Noa. “Noa may… regret this. Echo only bring—”

“Trouble.” Noa gripped Soona’s forearm as firmly as she held his. “Echo only bring trouble… Noa know.”

“I… know.”

______

lmk if yall are interested in stuff like this :]

[tavina-writes]

I’ve kind of had this post/a version of this post brewing for two weeks or more now, but like, last night I left a discord community I’d been a part of since the pandemic, where I was one of the first and founding members, over something that I guess could be considered “not that big a deal” and that was definitely…something that stung certainly. Typically, I’m not exactly a “pack up it’s time to hit the bricks” sort of person, and overall I think I can say that I’m fairly? okay/open to talking about things in a way that’s meant to be explanatory/educational especially as it comes to be Chinese Diaspora.

Yet I also think that at this point it was impossible for me to stay because at this point I am so sick and tired of the rampant Sinophobia that exists in fandom spaces, especially ones that demand that CMedia caters to their sense of aesthetics regarding pretty gay men while fetishizing/refusing to engage with the very real problems that Chinese Diaspora/Chinese Nationals face, especially when we try to point things out.  

In this case, this particular discussion was brought about re: a discussion about Falun Gong. which is a cult. And when I pointed out that saying “only China and Russia will be happy about a decrease in US hegemony on the global stage” was uhhh pretty Sinophobic of them (admittedly, not politely and perhaps too emotionally for people to take me seriously), they responded with “It’s my right to criticize whatever country I want actually even if it’s one you like and you can’t just accuse me of -phobia or whatever because of this” along with some other stuff that basically amounted to “I have 0 empathy about a number of very personal issues that you’re currently facing because I’m not American and your country sliding into fascism is your own fault wah wah cry harder.” 

Given that I’d known this person for going on four or more years now, this was…really a “ah, we’ve completely lost you to multiple brands of Kool Aid here” moment. And instead of staying to argue my point, or to try to explain that maybe this server that was primarily about anime with a smattering of cdrama on the side really shouldn’t be so chill with this sort of talk (After all, how often is it that someone prefaces their love of anime with: oh but don’t worry! I don’t support anything that the Imperial Japanese Government Did or anything they’re currently or have done in the past to Ainu people!) I decided to leave. 

In some sense, I feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’d become this sort of killjoy, you see, because there’s only so many times you can point out a problem to a person or a group without starting to becoming that one person that’s too serious or always stomping on other people’s fun or policing them for “incorrect” expressions of their thoughts or whatever. 

And this brings me to the like “what is a killjoy?” part of this thought because so much of life is about those sorts of battles: when do I think it might be safe to express an opinion? When do I think it’s okay to say “hey that wasn’t a great statement to make, cut it out” ? How often do I think I might be supported or heard when it comes to something like that? Who am I creating pushback for — the person who said something shitty or the other people who might not realize or not know what to say in response to something shitty? 

So much of the time, I err on the side of trying to explain that Chinese people, ethnically Chinese diaspora, Chinese nationals, whatever are people who gasp! Have thoughts and feelings and possess a modicum of intelligence perhaps like you do, instead of just saying “oh fuck off” or fucking off myself. So much of the time, I debate whether it’s polite to mention that this thirst to see pretty gay Asian men combined with this blanket rage at “censorship by the evil government” (as if censorship regarding queer subjects does not exist in the English speaking west) or “government propaganda” (as if, laughably, governmental propaganda does not exist in the English speaking west) is in fact, actively alienating to those who are ethnically Chinese. 

Or if perhaps, by stretching and bending and purposefully misunderstanding the customs of Chinese characters and erasing their names and traditions and refusing to engage with our holidays and substituting your own is a form of microaggressive violence towards those in your fandom community who are Chinese. 

After all, if I do point this out, it’s a matter of “Tav, literally we just want WangXian to celebrate Christmas, it’s harmless.” (We will refuse to learn about new years traditions beyond Gong Xi Fa Cai and exaggerated bows and we will refuse to engage with Qingming or Mid Autumn or ancestor worship or filial piety if we even know what those are because those aren’t sexy and familiar as decorating a fucking Christmas tree after all.) 

As for exactly what this particular longtime acquaintance had said was my own fault re: America’s slide into fascism — my youngest maternal cousin died two weeks ago, and my mother is too terrified of leaving the country to go to his memorial service because she’s afraid that as a green card holder, she won’t be able to make it back into the country to ever see her husband or daughters again with the way this current administration is handling things. 

He was twenty four years old and his parents’ only child. 

But yes, perhaps I was impolite in my expression of what I was afraid of.

[yahoodarling]

Diluc X GN Guardian Angel Reader (Snipbit)

Diluc X guardian reader whos a little late on the whole ‘helping out’ part. Expect some good ol angst from both parties, enthusiastic reader and Diluc in denial. Reader gives off ‘dad thats been absent for your developing years and shows up in your 20s’ vibe. 

Word count: 3k (full fic around 10k)

Warnings: none in this extract but warnings will be added in the final fic

You are holy. You are divine. You are perfection incarnate. You have a duty. 

In your hands held the fate of a mortal, someone desperate and in need of your guidance and as an official of Celestia it is both an honor to guide them and an honor bestowed, to be favored and seen by the gods for their struggles and in turn given the gift that is yourself. Admittedly you filled the application for this position a little late but surely your mortal is just fine as they are, you were just… a little preoccupied is all. You smile as you think of the future journey ahead, a new start of healing and recovery for a poor soul. Your… your new mortal…

Mondstadt, you haven't been here for a while but the smell of fresh brew in the air and tugging of the wind in your hair will always welcome you. You set off to find your dear human, your existence tied to his the moment you fulfilled the proper application of acceptance. He's in the city, a short distance away. The night was crisp, winter is around the corner but with your light you shall guide this mortal through and reach the warmth he so desperately needs. You open the door to a tavern, a further welcome of cheer and joy from its patrons and there standing in such joyous potential is your dear! Crimson hair bundled high, gaze focused and frown evident, such ache surely lies within him. 

“Greetings Diluc of Mondstadt! Its a pleasure to finally meet you!” you speed walk up to the counter and lay on your finest smile, first impressions are important if you'll be spending the rest of his life together. 

He didn't seem pleased with your manner, perhaps you were too much? Either way he sighed, “Right, and what would you like this evening?”

“You~☆”

His frown further lowered and brow crinkled, lines all too familiar with this exchange. 

“Order a drink or get out, i am not accepting courting attempts” 

“Courtship? Oh no no no! Haha you're mine in a different way! I'm here to give you a surprise alright?” You stood up straight, opened your arms out wide to him, beamed a smile as welcoming as possible and with as much joy and enthusiasm as possible declared,

“Diluc of Mondstadt I am your official Guardian Angel! Tremble no longer! Fret no fear for I as one of Celestians chosen have come to bring you peace in your times of need!” 

…

He looked at you with blank tired eyes, not the ones of enlightened hope you were expecting

“Right well i think this joke has played its course. I'll ask you either leave or buy something.”

Huh? That's not what you were expecting. Shouldn't he be enamored? Shouldn't he be fulfilled with hope and respond in such a manner befitting of a life changing event? What's different here? What have you done wrong? You've done what you usually do, introduce yourself, have a good first impression, positive attitude, state your position as an official of Celestia, your previous mortals were overjoyed when you first met but this one is different, he doesn't look happy or relieved he just looks… tired. 

Perhaps it's because the situation isn't right. In the past when you met your previous mortals it was in an immediate sense of danger whilst here he's just at his job but would something like that really affect his response? He still needs you after all, why isn't he overjoyed? 

“Haha, there is no humor here other than the joyful future we are to embark on! Umm- haha, ah, you aren't in awe or anything right? This is the start to a new life for you! No more suffering or pain, you have I, your benevolent guardian, to guide and support you! Haha- um, you don't look all that greatful haha, i'm not usually this uncomposed it's just you don't seem very grateful and, yeah…” he's really throwing you off here, its like you don't even exist with the way he looks at you. 

“Diluc! We need another round of 8 ales for the second floor!”

“Coming up Charles.”

He turned away and got on preparing the drinks. How awkward. You stand unmoving, simply blinking along and watching your mortal- Diluc, right, Master Diluc of Mondstadt, get glasses and fill them. Eventually your legs felt a little odd having to stand, you sit down on an available stool and continue to watch the men prepare drinks. 

Is this really the reception you get for being a little late? Nothing serious could have happened in the time so why is everything so different now compared to how it's meant to be. 

Your mortal finished his task and returned to his position, when his gaze laid on you he had to sigh but still approached.

“Will you order something now?”

“Oh no, i need not drink.” 

“Right then what are you doing here other than to play this prank of yours?”

“Prank? Oh I'm serious about my position, Diluc of Mondstadt i am serviced to guide you.”

“I don't need any ‘guiding’ but if you are indeed of any i can help guide you out the door if we are done here.”

You can't help but laugh, he's being rather silly, of course you don't need help walking out the door but maybe he's confused or doesn't believe that someone could be blessed an angelic guardian. 

“Diluc of Mondstadt-”

“‘Master Diluc’ is just fine, thank you.”

Oh? Weird, you could have sworn you read that he introduced himself as ‘Diluc of Mondstadt’, it's his title right? 

“Right! So Master Diluc, going forward i will be joining you in you daily-”

“No you will not.” oh how blunt! You cringe a little inside, being treated like this is so odd, your previous mortals were never like this. 

“ahaha- um yes i will, its my job. Worry not! I do not have to be physically present like i currently am, i just figured our first introduction would be best if i took a mortal form, you lot find great comfort in those you can identify yourself with and i will respect that! See!” you lift your arms out and display your form as if he hadn't taken a good look of it, you were rather proud of your visage, you always received praise from your fellow guardians when it comes to your human designs. “See, I put quite a bit of effort into this one! Haha but again, I can take on a spiritual form in the times you need to be ‘alone’. Not alone alone, you'll never be alone! But rather when you need other humans to perceive you are alone. I can do my duties both in and out of form! There is more to guidance than just protection after all! I am here as your new voice to lead you down your-”

“Okay that's enough.”

Please! Dear mortal, stop interrupting me! This is important! you shut your eyes and release an unseen tear, this hurts. 

Diluc of Mondstadts’ frustration seemed to grow, his appearance did not change, his eyes still narrow and frown rested easily on his cheeks like before but you could easily sense his annoyance. How. HURTFUL! 

“I'm done with your ‘guardian of celestia’ nonsense. Please leave my tavern before I have to escort you out, and I will so do not take this statement lightly.” 

“Oh you couldn't even if you tried haha, different phases of mass and all that. I know it may seem ‘annoying’ to you for whatever reason but I am here with you for the rest of your life. It may be different from what you are used to but i can swear on my pledge that i will do all i can to accoustum into your life in a way befitting of your personal needs all whilst helping you out your sadness!”

He sighed, pressed his fingers to his brow and took a moment to recompose. Once he was done his frown wasn't so harsh but he still looked tired. 

“Right well, I cannot deny you are a Celestial being. I've had all manner of entities in my tavern but none have gone so far as to claim they are supposedly my ‘guardian’. I do not know why you claim this, if you take a look into my life you will see I am well settled and content with my present so I am not indeed of your services. I thank you for your offer but please, take it to someone who may actually need it.”

“ha… haha silly, it's not an offer system, that's not how things work, haha. I am tied to you now. I can't just leave and you do need me! Your submission wouldn't be in the files if you didn't. Celestia knows when a mortal is deserving of their attention and you are! I'd say you are especially special considering you have a vision as well. Well done! Good job! You are already on the path of healing! Now with my help you'll reach a lovely new future.”

“Well I'm rather happy with what I currently have. Enough of this talk, you will confuse my customers.”

“oh? Oh you are worried about confidentiality? Not a worry! Our discussion is filtered, they cannot hear information they are not allowed to. They are likely hearing us chat on about the weather haha.”

“What?” his frown turned into confusion, how cute. 

“oh yes! Being your guardian means dealing with personal stuff for you, it wouldn't be right if someone could just listen in to our conversation. There is also the fact that I hold knowledge that should not be heard by mortal ears and luckily the filter works to block it all! No secret spilt or your personal feelings uncovered.”

He looked concerned for a moment before huffing out and directing his attention elsewhere. 

“Of course the gods work in ‘mysterious ways’”

“oh, I'm not a god, I'm an angel.”

“I'm not talking about you.”

“ah…”

He simply ignored you after that, tavern goers came and went and when he wasn't attending to them or greeting familiar faces he busied himself checking lists, stock and otherwise keeping things in order. You found your spot on the bar bench and hadn't moved since, only watched, you tried to start up another conversation but he had shut you down rather quickly so you were once again left in silence to sit. It had been a while since you surrounded yourself with mortals and the distinction was clear, they easily made merry and got on with life none the wiser of the world yet still all too eager to enjoy their lives, it was refreshing. Their simple lives were so cute, it was moments like this that made you fall in love with your job all over again, only pity is your current mortal doesn't seem as pleased. Humans are both simple and complex and your dear mortal was complexing to the core. You felt the hurt in him and yet he did not want help, you stated you were of Celestia and he refused you, why? Perhaps you'll need to try out some different methods to get close. 

The early night turned late and Diluc finished his tasks leaving the few stragglers for Charles to close up after. He took his coat and disappeared out the back door. It took a moment for you to register he had left, so engrossed in your own thoughts and your surroundings you had actually stopped monitoring your mortal, not that you'd admit to doing that of course. Quickly you got out of your seat and ran after him, a few moments later you were at his side as he trudged on Mondstadts roads. 

“soooo~ Mondstadt huh? Pretty place.”

He said nothing

“Last time I was here was ages ago, the winds really have flattened out the hills, it's nice!”

...

“I'm still not so happy about the smell in the air, you'd think that would have cleared out by now.”

“What?” he finally looked at you and it was in total confusion. “What are you going on about?”

“oh haha! I was just thinking aloud, I actually can't say. Hmmm… how could i word this… you've killed people right?”

All you saw was his back as he sped walked forward, eyes ever on his depressed past and not on you, his future. 

“Diluc of Mondstadt halt! I did not mean to be offensive, I just wanted to link a connection you would recognise. That smell of death lingers in- it-” haha filters… you need to recompose yourself. “Haha nevermind! Topics of the past are not fun. How about we talk about you? You work at a bar? Oh no i believe i read you owned a winery, very impressive. But it being your fathers is no achievement of your own, we shall create your very own success in our journeys to come!”

“What?” his speed walking stopped, he held his stance firm, much like the form you need to take in the scene of battle, no sign of weakness displayed even in a simple action such as standing. Too bad for him you knew he was just playing, there is no way he could actually hold himself so well when he's so in need. And yet it didn't feel that way and he looked genuinely angry for some reason, you've only been encouraging.

“What right do you have to claim The Dawn Winery is not an achievement of my own?”

“Well simply you're not the one who developed it but that's okay! We have other chances, we can-”

“Not ‘we’, ‘I’ and it has always been ‘I’. I am the one that has gotten myself up to this point and have no need for a ‘we’. I do not need your confirmation nor your support which consists of empty notions and insensitive remarks. Leave before I force you to.” He took out his blade. He actually took out his blade on you, proof he'd follow through with his words. 

What have you done wrong? Why is he so confusing? The others weren't this confusing. They were just sad and depressed and you comforted them but this one is just angry, your comfort feeding the flames but he wouldn't have had an application made for him if he wasn't in despair. Just what is this mortal's problem? 

“Diluc of-”

“Do not even speak my name if you cannot say it correctly. I understand you may be an inhuman being but that does not exempt you from working by human standards when speaking with one. And typically human standards will not have one creating a false narrative of some guardian angel you are trying to play. Again, leave me be. That is your final warning.”

“But- but I am! It is not a false image, I am an official of Celestia, i am here to help.”

He lowered his blade but still his eyes remained sharp. His claymore could never harm you anyway yet the sting of his look was felt. 

“Then tell me, if you truly are sent from Celestia why is it that you come now once my life is content? Why now when your ramblings prove nothing but eer and not in the time when I truly could have needed Celestia's help?”

It hasn't been that long though…

“I cannot answer that. See-”

“If you cannot answer, it means I cannot accept. To say Celestia sent help yet failed means to lose all respect for the gods. It is easier for me to say the gods work in unknown ways, that I faced my hardships without their guidance for a reason then to be told they failed, that I could have had an easier past if not for the incompetence of others whom are meant to be superior to us mortals. It is for that reason that I hold some semblance of respect for them that I cannot accept you as an agent of theirs.”

How? But that's not- what? His words held no meaning, no meaning you could understand anyway, they were only a collection of words that could not fit together. You could not understand them, you could not comprehend them. Is this how mortals feel trying to comprehend the higher plane? But his words are not a superior entity to you, you are superior, you should understand! But his words… What could he mean? Of course he respects Celestia but how does that differ to accepting you are one of theirs? It's not like Celestia could do anything wrong to garner disrespect. Right? No, it's unquestionable. Its- its-

You feel the strange tingle, you should move on from this subject. Right! Yes, move onto a new subject and respect the mortal, feed into their understanding if it means they can progress.

“haha i see i see. Well you do not have to see me as an official of celestia then! You can see me as a helpful spirit that has decided to join you in your adventure!”

“i refuse”

DAMN HUMAN LISTEN

“ahaha ha… um how about as-”

“The only thing I see you as is a malignant being whom pesters me for their own satisfaction.”

Ouch… but you could work with this!

“I see! Yes yes, your dismay gives me joy so in order for me to not ‘pester’ you you must not fall into dismay but rather develop and progress a more healthy future, yes okay! Human! I shall follow you and ‘pester’ you from this point onwards!”

He did a physical rolling of the eyes, rolling his body along as well as he turns himself away from you and continues walking. 

“If you do so quietly I might reconsider impaling you on my blade.”

Its progress! Okay, you need to listen to him.

“right right, i shall only speak when absolutely needed oh or to say something to agitate you considering i am a malevolent being. In all honesty though, I find it hard to say disparaging things. I usually work as a supportive and helpful being but I will try to be vexatious.” You hear a faint ‘you don't even have to’ come from him, silly human, you can still hear him even at this distance.

A little bit more of a filler introduction to the fic im working on! If the dialogue feels awkward, good, its meant to be. As always angst shall follow but i find the dynamic rather fun. Let me know your thoughts and opinions of what youd like to see in the future!

[fascinatedscrawls]

Familiar Comforts

When Luke agreed to join his sister for tea he imagined a lot of things. Most, admittedly, came from the holos of how nobles took their tea - a safe assumption as she is a Princess and even now holds a high office as they rebuild the republic.

However, instead of the unfamiliar high end, single cup tea pots (that looked less like dishware and more like bricks) paired with tiny delicacies that always seemed more like art then food, Luke arrives to find a spread so familiar it hurts. The strange tiered platters, the ostentatious place settings, the strange smells and flavors of his imagination are nowhere to be seen.

Instead he finds something closer to what Aunt Beru served.

Sure, the plates are nicer of, something more delicate than the dishes and cups that survived his youth. The food is simple though, a sweetbread there, some small savory breads with toppings beside them, a pitcher of milk sitting beside a dish of sweetener.

Luke's greeting sticks in his throat with nostalgia hitting him like an unexpected sandstorm, upon him in a moment, making it hard to breath, his eyes starting to sting as it closes in around him.

Leia glances over her shoulder, but is kind enough to not comment on whatever expression he likely hasn't managed to keep from his face (at this distance there's no way she can't feel it, not after the tests they've done trying to understand their connection).

"You're right on time," she says, going back to what she was doing. "Have a seat while I finish up."

He does as instructed and manages to find his voice in the process.

"It looks delicious!" The complement is late, but genuine. Leia smiles at him as she finishes filling up the teapot and makes her way over.

"Thank you."

Luke startles a bit at the familiar device she sets on the table, blinking as she starts it up.

"I thought this would be an Alderaanian tea?" Or, that was what her offer sounded like when she made it. He gets a confused look in response.

"It is." Reaching over, she carefully opens a small dish with some dried tea leaves. "It's not the last of the tea my family and I had in our off-world offices and certainly not the last of the Alderaanian tea left as some was being grown on some of the greener worlds due to some contracts, but I wanted to share a little of my home with you while this piece of it lasts."

"Thank you." His heart aches, an echo of her loss intensifying it. Luke reaches out to touch her wrist, offering what comfort he can and gets a faint smile in return. Sitting back, he opts for a distraction or maybe a reciprocal offering.

"I hadn't realized that pressure-pots were used there too." Luke tilts his head to inspect the settings and corrects himself, "Though for different reasons it seems."

Brows rising, Leia glances at the pot - set to normalize the pressure for more accurate brewing. "Alderaan is - was fairly mountainous with many of our people living among them. The only way to guarantee the right temperature for any blend is to ensure it isn't impacted by the altitude."

Ah, that explains it. "Of course."

"And why would you be using one on Tatooine, isn't it fairly flat?"

"Well, sometimes I used it just to lower the pressure enough to watch it boil in the sun, but Aunt Beru used it properly." The pot beeps as it reaches the indicated temperature and Luke leans over to tap on the slot on the side, the one that looks like it's never been used. "It let us brew it at the right temperature to steep while keeping it cool enough."

"'Cool enough' due to the heat?" Narrowing her eyes, Leia works it out faster than most. "No, the steam."

"That's right! No bigger waste to a moisture farmer than letting off a bit of steam." The familiar joke falls off his tongue and he ducks a little as he laughs at it, trying not to flinch as he realizes he's avoiding a playful swipe at his head from a man who he lost years before. Fingers brush along his wrist and he covers them for a moment. Luke gives her a smile before reaching for the pot. "I'll show you how to make a cup from Tatooine another day. Teach me how to make your favorite tea."

"Technically, my favorite tea isn't native to Alderaan at all," Leia informs him with a small, secretive smile. "So we'll make my mother's instead."

It's not a complicated process and the tea is delicious even if Leia tuts over how much blue milk he adds after the first few sips. Unfortunately for her, that only makes him smile wider as he remembers Aunt Beru doing the same thing.

He wonders if she's remembering someone else too because she can't quite hide a smile of her own as he adds a little more to his cup.

─────────────────────────

Thanks again to everyone who voted in the poll! I really just wanted an excuse to do a little world building lol I did do a little research, but I'll admit it was a while ago, so hopefully I didn't swap any facts around.

Next prompt poll will go up shortly, feel free to swing by and cast a vote for the next ficlet!

[chuuyaspinkmotorcycle]

Day 8: Hats of @/Black00Cat’s (twt) SKKtober

Chuuya gets it.

He really does.

He, too, would be willing to steal to get a hat as cool as his.

That does not include Dazai stealing his, though.

So, after the something-thousandth attempt to steal his hat, Chuuya’s had enough.

If Dazai truly wants a hat, then Chuuya will do the great favor of – ew – helping him out.

Chuuya, for one, is ready to leave by the agreed-upon-beforehand time. And as he should have expected, Dazai is not.

The Agency really did soften Dazai up. He knows time is not easy to get in the mafia and yet here he is wasting Chuuya’s.

That’s fine, Chuuya thinks as he grabs Dazai by the leg to haul him out of his futon. It’s all fine.

Twenty minutes and incessant whining later, they are out the door and revving down the street on Chuuya’s motorcycle.

Chuuya does Dazai, and himself, a favor by taking them to a cheaper store under the guise of figuring out what looks good on Dazai, but really because he knows Dazai’s gonna steal his card to pay.

There’s not the greatest selection to choose from but it’ll work.

First, there’s the classic baseball cap in blue. A good shade on Dazai but not something he could see the man wearing everyday.

Next, it’s a beanie with a little puffball on top. This one’s white and while Dazai looks, admittedly, kinda cute in it, it’s also still way too hot outside to be wearing that, so on to the next.

It comes in the form of a cowboy hat? Chuuya’s not really sure why it’s there in the middle of Yokohama but he’s guessing someone threw an American Western party.

Now, you didn’t hear it from him, but damn, Dazai can rock a cowboy hat. Maybe he should get him to dress up as that for Halloween…

Anyway, Dazai puts on a beret next and does his most horrible French impression of which Chuuya’s not going to give commentary for.

The next hat – a sailor hat – also looks a bit too good on Dazai and now Chuuya has to decide on whether to make Dazai be a cowboy or a sailor for Halloween. If only they had a tiara here, his choice would have been obvious.

While Chuuya brews on that, Dazai picks up a fedora, moving to imitate first Michael Jackson – for which he gets no reaction, how rude – and then copies Chuuya’s thoughtful stance until the redhead notices.

Chuuya did notice, mind you, and the fedora does not look as good as his porkpie, thank you very much.

There’s only two left now, though Chuuya doesn’t think they’ll fit Dazai all that well.

The second to last to be tried on is a newsboy cap. Dazai shows the most interest in this cap. Chuuya shows the least, making the most disgusted face possible as his thoughts turn to a certain other genius detective and receiving a smirk from Dazai as he pieces everything together.

Somewhere out there, Chuuya hopes Ranpo sneezes on his candy.

Moving on, the last hat, a black bucket hat, is gingerly placed on Dazai’s head, the man doing a few rotations in front of the mirror to get a good look.

And maybe Chuuya was wrong about being a hat expert because holy shit, Dazai looks /good/ in a bucket hat.

Dazai adjusts the hat a little before pouting. “I can’t see.”

“Yes, you can, idiot, just push the front up a little,” Chuuya says, already reaching a hand up to do so.

Dazai, the dramatic ass, cries out, “So Chibi doesn’t want to see my gorgeous face when we fu– mmph!”

Thank Arahabaki Chuuya had his hand up already from fixing the hat to slap it over Dazai’s mouth.

“Shut it!” he hisses at the brunet, but the sly grin on Dazai’s face tells him everything he needs to know.

He’s paying for the hat.

[spectrechosts]

Self Love

This one is pretty recent. Vampire and her haunted reflection, being a lil gay for eachother through the barrier of a mirror. I don't have any followup chapters written but I think I'll write more with them at some point.

False Reflections, as far as Della is aware, are one of the sneakier forms a ghost can take.

No tossing things, no 'GET OUT' written in blood, no transparent figures- just a slight offness on the edge of your mind, gnawing at you. Movements not quite how you think they should look, eyes wide open when you blink. Little things that build over years and years until you've gone mad.

The subtleties of this performance are sadly lost on Della; who sees that she has a reflection at all, points out her fangs in the mirror, makes a rude gesture, turns the mirror around, and goes to bed with the firm resolve to deal with that later.

'Dealing with that later' then turns into 'Researching ghosts' then turns into 'Researching other apartments', because the False Reflection isn't attached to the mirror it's attached to the place and that's a whole pain in the ass that simply chucking the mirror in a dumpster wouldn't have been.

The apartment is, frankly, too good to give up. Not everyone gets to be an old money vampire, some people are using their eternally twenty-three visage to hide the ghastly truth that they are, gasp, twenty-seven, and just as fucked by the economy as every other zillennial. The rent is cheap, it's near her job, and she doesn't even know if undisclosed hauntings are valid grounds to break her lease.

So she puts a mirror in every room and embraces that she has a roommate.

~

Della gets home from work and her reflection waves at her while she takes off her shoes, a second before she waves at it.

They've made… some amount of progress, in these first few months. Communication is difficult, but they have an arrangement. Neither of them wants a priest coming around.

Her reflection doesn't try to keep the ruse going, so at the very least they're on the same page there.

She grabs herself a pack of AB- from the fridge and brews a cup of tea, then takes them both into the living room. She bites into the pack and puts down the tea, watches her reflection pick it up and drink it in the mirror as it sits on the coffee table and cools.

She doesn't know if that actually does anything for the ghost, or if it's just nice to go through the motions.

Settling on something to watch is easy enough. She scrolls through options while keeping her reflection in the corner of her eye, watching her reactions until she finds something they both want.

Now, before she starts it, she does want to talk to the ghost, which is… tricky.

The mirror, obviously, makes no sound that Della can hear. The False Reflection can hear, apparently, but it can't hear her. The TV, for example, exists in her reflected world and makes all the sounds it's expected to. She however does not, replaced by the ghost. They can only see eachother through the mirrors.

She brings out a notepad and pencil, and her reflection rolls its eyes.

"Do you mind if I try on some outfits later?" She writes, and holds the pad up to the mirror.

Her reflection writes on her own pad, holds her answer up and looks away. Della takes a moment to parse the mirrored letters.

"It's your body."

A reflection is, admittedly, rather useful to have. Nobody wants to go out with a bit of blood smeared on their lips, and it's nice to be able to see how your clothes work together. But it's weird when your reflection is in itself a person with their own stuff going on but no real… agency. She can move, Della can leave the TV on for her when the ghost feels like it, but neither of them can make her not Della's reflection.

And that's, as she said, weird, when you're trying on clothes and now the ghost is naked because you're naked. It's doubly weird when the ghost gets all… blushy, about it. Della is cool with that, her reflection can admire and blush to her heart's content, but she can't just put the ghost into that position without asking.

"You're the one that has to stand there and watch." She writes.

"Why would that be a problem?" The ghost replies, evasively.

"Are you about to 'we're both girls' me?"

"I don't know what that means. We are both girls"

Della rolls her eyes.

"FYI, I'm a lesbian."

The ghost reads that and goes pink, scribbles and tears out multiple messages from her notepad.

"I don't know what that is. Is that some modern thing?"

Della breathes slowly through her nose as she puts her thumb and finger to her temple.

"This building finished construction in 1993."

"Irrelevant."

Della sighs. Okay, fine.

"Tell you what, I'll turn the bedroom mirror around between outfits. Just in case anyone would get embarrassed."

"You don't have to do that!" Her reflection scrawls hastily.

"I won't… if you ask me not to."

Her reflection goes pink again.

"I swear it's not for creepy reasons! You're just very pretty and I was caught offguard and didn't know what to do! I can be normal!"

Della laughs.

"You're physically incapable of creeping on me, I'm the one choosing to change in front of you. Be as abnormal as you like." She writes, making a mental note to get some nice underwear to try on for her.