#Little did we know what rare treasures these would be

[fraugwinska]

Giveaway 2nd Prize Winner Piece

Hello my loves! Our darling @lil-glum, who won myy 2nd prize in the 1k Follower giveaway, has graciously allowed me to share the finished piece with you all! It was a delight to work with her - and her ideas were so good that writing this felt less like work and all the more like a treat! <3 So much so that I, in fact, went a bit overboard with the word count! ;> As usual: Minors DNI or I'll curse you to always have moist socks!

Paint the Town Red

For weeks now, Alastor had stalked out that little human like a vulture, circling high above the oblivious prey and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Revisiting the living world should've been a glorious occasion, since summonings were becoming so rare nowadays, but that moron who dared to call on him hadn't been worth his while - but she was.

Luck and curse had it that he didn't have to return to hell right after the laughably one-sided deal was striked, leaving him time enough to put a little glamor on to stroll around town in his earthly disguise, freshly brewed coffee in hand, and see what humanity had been up to since his demise. The world had become frivolous, no class at all, and Alastor had felt at ease knowing that he had lived at the peak of culture and manners, never to be bettered.

And then she ran into him. Deeply immersed in a book - not those audacious electronic devices people put their nose in every waking hour - she'd rounded the corner while Alastor gawked around, lost to the world captured on the yellowed pages. A head full of red, silky locks had bumped into his chest and the book as well as his coffee dropped, the former to be saved by his quick reflexes. A simple flick of his wrist, and the book was back in her hand, while his cup of java laid spilled in a muddy puddle between their feet.

"Oh! Oh no - I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention!" she'd said, pushing her glasses back her nose as she smiled up to him apologetically, and when Alastor met her eyes, something shifted. And just like that, the hunt was on.

"No harm done, darling. The coffee was poorly done anyway."

Since time was running out, he turned up his charm to at least get the girl's name and maybe another meeting out of the encounter, already planning on ways to return. Thankfully, she'd given it all too gladly, and promised to invite him for coffee as an apology for the spilled one. He'd taken the sound of her name into his hands like the greatest treasure, repeating it over and over in his mind as he was being dragged back to the afterlife tasting each vowel and consonant. Hunting down an indebted incubus and acquiring its asmodean crystal had been as easy as working out how to use it. And oh - did he use it.

His absence from his duties in the hotel became more and more obvious, but Alastor couldn't stop himself. It wasn't even the thrill of the chase that kept him going. Every time he saw her, it was as if her mere presence called out to an unknown part of him, as if her voice was a siren's call, as if her scent was a drug created just for him. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about her: The delightful way she laughed at his quips. The elegant way she spoke about her interests. The way she brushed her fiery hair back over her shoulder when she was nervous…

Alastor wanted it all, and he wanted her.

"Alastor, are you listening at all?" she smiled at him, pulling him out of his raging thoughts.

"My apologies, dear, I was merely...distracted. Please do repeat yourself." he cleared his throat and gave her a wide grin. The abandoned park they walked in was tinted in oranges, greens and browns, little specks of autumn's palette so becoming to her complexion.

"I was saying that I don't really feel like going back home yet. How about we take a detour - explore a little?" she proposed, pointing down to a small trail that led away from the main road, lined with trees and shrubbery, "There's supposed to be a pond around there, and I think it would be nice to enjoy your company a little longer."

Alastors ears perked up and his smile widened, threatening to mirror the one he always wore down in hell. She wanted to be alone with him, far away from prying eyes - that wonderful, naive thing.

"That sounds delightful, my dearest - lead the way!"

His mind was running wild with possibilities as he followed her down the path, watching her red locks bounce as she hopped down the sloping ground. How much she trusted him was as endearing as it was thrilling, and the urge to reach out and take her by the arm to pull her into his own grew with every step he took, the demon in him aching for a taste of her. He wasn't one to rush good things, and he wanted to enjoy this, make it last as long as he could, savor every moment of the inevitable fall.

She was chattering away happily, unaware of the obsessive way he watched her. Her hips swayed hypnotically, the hem of her wool skirt grazing her thighs ever so slightly, and Alastor wondered if the flush of her cheeks from the cool autumn air would be found elsewhere on her delectable body, too. He knew he had to control himself, but with his desire burning hot like the flames of his true home, Alastor struggled.

Finally, they reached the small pond and she turned around to him, beaming with accomplishment. The sight of it, of her prideful smile and trusting eyes so enthrallingly focused on him was too much, and whatever she was about to say was swallowed by his lips crashing into hers. His gloved hands held her face firmly as he pushed her against a tree, the bark scratching into the back of her coat. He had wanted this for so long, the feeling of her soft lips moving against his, her hands clawing at his shoulders, indecisive on whether to pull him closer or push him away. She gasped into the kiss and Alastor took the chance to push his tongue inside, swallowing her moan as apparently made up her mind, tugging at his coat as he finally devoured her.

It was entirely, decidedly too much: The warmth of her, the taste, the touches, the sounds, he couldn't get enough of it, couldn't get close enough. With ferocity, he got rid of every offending layer of obstructive clothing, reveling in the way she breathed his name, pleading to the deity that couldn't care for mercy and to him to ruin her. And he gladly granted her wish, benevolent as he was, his lips trailing down her neck, teeth nipping at her collarbone, tongue laving over her exposed breasts as his hands stroked up her legs, fingers disappearing under her skirt to brush against her core.

"Please, Alastor - oh!" she whimpered when he pushed a finger inside her wet cunt, the tight heat making him growl in approval. He wanted her to beg, he wanted her to cry, wanted her to break down before him and ask him for salvation. His glamor flickered, struggling to hold against the loss of control.

"Look at you, my dear, so eager, so wanting," he crooned as he pushed another finger inside her, watching her back arch from the tree, her body seeking out his hands like a magnetic pull. Brown hair slowly turned red, antlers sprouting from its crown, his modest gray coat faded into his signature crimson pinstriped frock, and she gasped into his hungry mouth as he let the grip on his magic go and revealed himself completely as the demonic overlord that he was. Alastor, the Radio Demon, laughed, licking along her jaw as he slowly increased the pace of his claws, earning another sweet sound of shocked pleasure from his little, confused human.

“Don’t let my true form deceive you, my darling - No matter what happens… I’ll make sure you see heaven.”

[anotherdescentintomadness]

Mirror-Selfie Era Wang YiBo

In honor of Wang YiBo’s new mirror-selfie…

…we look back at Mirror-Selfie-Era Wang YiBo

[viviennevermillion]

love languages

✧ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: hsr debut post, hope this does well. i'm only at chapter 2 part 1 so pls bare we me. (gn!reader), aeons can walk among mortals for this

✧ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: bloom in the dark — emorie

✧ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: blade, dan heng, jing yuan, luocha, march 7th, nanook, yaoshi

✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: some angst & hint at character death in blade's because i'm still figuring out how to write anything but angst for a character whose main objective is that he wants to die, i had way too much fun making the aeons eldritch

✧ giving: gifts

As much as Blade loved you, as much as he treasured the memories he shared with you and as much as he'd hate to cause you pain or grief; you were all too familiar with his predicament. You had been ever since you agreed to stay by his side, to love him for as long as you had together. That was the price you'd pay for loving a man who considered himself dead in spirits already. A shell of who he once was.

Part of him felt guilty for indulging you; how could he call himself yours when he'd take the exit from his cursed immortality if it presented itself before him tomorrow? How could he promise you his heart if he couldn't promise you a future?

He knew there was a chance he might outlive you by centuries. He knew there was a chance he'd say goodbye to you in a month. Still, you were willing to be with him, through all the uncertainty.

So he gifts you things to remember him by, should he part from you too soon for your liking. Some of them were expensive; after all he had more than enough life behind him to no longer be bound by material limits. Some of them were simple trinkets or flowers he preserved using glycerine. All of them held meaning but the overarching message was: "We were born in different times. If it were for the natural order of things, we never would have even met. I've been suffering since long before I met you. And yet, curiously, despite all; I treasure every moment I had with you. I'm glad to have loved you."

✧ receiving: physical touch

One thing Blade would have never expected when he met you; but was more than glad to realize, was that you could make him forget his anger and pain, even if it was for just a while; even if it always inevitably returned.

He loved falling asleep in your arms. It was the closest thing to the peace and salvation he craved that he could currently have. For just a few hours, he was content. He had forgotten what that felt like.

He loved the feeling of your fingers carding through his long, dark hair. And you loved the smile you so rarely saw on his face when you did this. Blade's breathing would calm and he'd nuzzle your neck as he was being held in your arms.

Blade also loves waking up in the middle of the night, feeling you shift in bed beside him and pressing a few lazy kisses to his lips before he fell back asleep.

He loves the way you tend to his scars, how you seem to wash the pain off his body with your caring touch; despite feeling guilty for how he has made you worry again. You'd end up disinfecting and bandaging his wounds and sometimes he had to chuckle at how you treated him as if he was fragile, despite having likely seen more hardships than you could ever imagine.

✧ giving: acts of service

Dan Heng doesn't really know how to express his love for you at first so he defaults to helping you out however he can.

He helps you with little jobs around the Astral Express and loves to team up with you for any missions or chores that fall on both of your plates.

Especially with all the knowledge he gathered from the archives and basically living in there; he's more than ready to help you figure out any mysteries you encounter on your journey with the Astral Express.

If he needs to explain anything to you or answer a question you have about stuff like the Aeons or any factions you encountered, he'll often pull you onto his lap at the desk and show you important info about it in a book or online. "I hope I could answer your questions. Did this help you?", he then asks you, looking into your eyes. "Yup!", you shoot him a smile and give him a quick kiss to the lips which leaves him blushing and just staring at you for a while.

"Hey, Astral Express to Dan Heng, you still there?", you chuckle and wave your hand in front of his eyes. He just blinks like, twice and then picks you up bridal style: "Come on, let's figure out that task Himeko gave you." He's just trying to distract from the fact that you flustered him.

Sometimes he tries to cook for you. The emphasis is on tries. You'll walk into the train kitchen and he'll be there stirring something in the frying pan and glancing at a recipe. "What are you doing there, love?", you ask and kiss his cheek. "I'm making lunch for you", he states and you hug him. "Aww, that's so sweet of you!", you press a few appreciative kisses to his lips, "wait why does it smell burnt?" "What-"

✧ receiving: quality time

Dan Heng is what we call 'a good listener'. He's not the best conversationalist but he likes to hear you talk and he remembers stuff you told him that even you have forgotten about until he one day just brings it up out of nowhere.

He loves to spend the time between trailblazing expeditions just hanging out with you. You check your phone and receive a text from him like "Hey, want to come over to my room? 🫀"

"?" "March told me that I should add a heart to my messages to make you feel more loved. Did I not do it correctly?" "Dan Heng, sweetie, no..."

You enter his room and he has made you two cups of coffee, the only thing he's actually good at "cooking". The two of you have decided to watch a movie and lay down on Dan Heng's mattress. "I can feel the bones in my back snapping in half, how do you sleep on this?", you raise your eyebrow. "I don't think it's that bad", he mumbles, seeming lost in thought.

While watching the movie, he has his arms wrapped around you. His only opinion about it is "it was good".

Also enjoys playing board games with you, specifically card games. You're pretty equally matched so there's no telling who wins this round. When he wins, you ask him what he wants as a reward and he just gives you a soft smile and tells you a kiss will do.

✧ giving: physical touch

Jing Yuan is a fairly affectionate man behind closed doors. He doesn't leave for work without giving you as many goodbye kisses as you want and doesn't let go of you throughout the whole night while he sleeps. You could get up and grab a glass of water from the kitchen, as soon as you return, Jing Yuan wraps his arms around you once more; even when he's in deep sleep.

He enjoys just sitting idly with you, both of you doing your own things and he's just holding your hand or has a hand resting on your thigh. He also loves when you lean your head on his shoulder and as soon as he feels you do that, he turns his head to place a kiss on your forehead.

Sometimes you'll be reading a book while sitting between his legs and he ends up pressing multiple kisses to your cheek or trailing them down your neck. He smiles against your skin everytime he does this. He's not always seeking to touch you but he has his clingy 10 minutes where he wants attention and sometimes that happens to interfere with whatever it is you're doing at the current moment.

Most of the time you can't resist indulging him and just kissing him for a while, burying your hands in his hair or cupping his cheeks gently.

✧ receiving: quality time

Jing Yuan loves those days on the Xianzhou Luofu that are so peaceful that he gets to spend the entire day with you. You decide to take a nap during noon, falling asleep in his arms, listening to his steady heartbeat. You feel Jing Yuan press a few soft kisses to your forehead while you're dozing off.

When you awake, he's no longer next to you. You get up and find him in the kitchen, preparing a late lunch for the two of you. You wrap your arms around his waist from behind and glance at the frying pan to see him fry some eggs.

You hear a chirping sound and fish a small finch out of your boyfriend's hair. "Don't worry you, we're not grilling your brethren", you whisper softly and put the bird on the windowsill, "fly free, my little friend." The bird lifts off. You raise an eyebrow at Jing Yuan. "Was this the last one?"

He chuckles. "Should be." This at least gives him an excuse to take a bath with you and maybe you'll volunteer to wash his hair. He loves the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair and just relaxing and letting you pamper him. "You know, if that's what you want, you can just ask right?", you remind him, "you don't need to call your woodland friends for help." Jing Yuan just laughs and gently guides your chin closer to his face so he can kiss you softly.

He enjoys playing chess against you, though you tend to suggest to play a die-based game instead so you can win by having good luck, because Jing Yuan has several centuries of chess practice under his belt. "You know that still doesn't mean you'll win", he watches you unpack the Ludo game with an amused expression. "I have good luck, I got you after all", you say confidently. "Well I've heard an old saying from a distant planet that when you luck out in love it means you have bad luck when it comes to games", he argues and crosses his arms with a smile on his face. You roll your eyes and he responds by kissing your lips.

Sometimes he watches you play chess against Yanqing. "Does it hurt to lose to an 8 year old?", he teases you. "Silence, Jing Yuan, you taught him this stuff." Your lover lets out a laugh. "And yet he still has so much to learn before he can beat me."

✧ giving: words of affirmation

When Luocha loves you, he doesn't hesitate to tell you. After all, his companion in the coffin consistently reminds him that life is short and he better have no regrets, should misfortune strike him tomorrow. Luocha adores you and in his mind, there's nothing stopping him from letting you know.

He's also a bit of a smooth-talker to you and you only. He never gets overbearing with his flirting, but you can expect a few cheesy compliments followed by a kiss to your hand. He'll pick you up for your date, takes your hand in his and leads it to his lips. "You're as beautiful today as the first time I saw you", he smiles and whispers against your skin.

Getting together with Luocha could take ages if you insist in knowing why he's being so suspicious first; but once you do he's ironically an open book for you. He has shared his greatest secret with you and you've given your hearts to one another, so why should he hold back now from telling you what's on his mind?

Sometimes his words are on the nose, such as cupping your cheeks and telling you that he loves you with all his heart or that he wants you to traverse the stars with him from now on. Sometimes the love he has for you is put into telling you how he remembers certain areas around the Xianzhou Luofu as "that place where you surprised me with a bouquet of flowers when we met up for tea" or "that shop where you almost made the coffin fall over". You learn with time that there are a lot of things he associates with you and your memories together.

✧ receiving: physical touch

Luocha loves your affections. He's the least grumpy man ever in the morning. You could wake him up at 3am for kisses and he'd be down for it. He loves when he wakes up and the first thing he feels is your lips on his cheeks or your fingers running through his long blond hair or your fingertips drawing circles on his bare shoulders.

He pulls you into his chest and you can hear his heartbeat while he holds you close. He lifts your chin up and his lips meet yours before he even opens his eyes. He kisses you softly, his tongue circling around yours as he tries to pull you even closer. "Good morning, my love", his voice sounds raspy before he presses a kiss to your cheek.

Luocha loves to take a walk through the city and hold your hand in his while doing so. He doesn't say it but he definitely melts if you stop your walk for a minute just to give him a hug or kiss him gently.

One time you get caught in the rain and Luocha finds shelter for the two of you under a secluded pavillion. You are cold so he wraps his jacket around you and holds you in his arms until the skies clear. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Are you still cold, my dear?", his voice sounds so soft and he gently squeezes your shoulder. You shake your head. He lets out a chuckle. "That's good, then", he replies before resting his head on top of yours and closing his eyes for a while.

He enjoys resting his head in your lap while you run your fingers through his hair. You might be busy with something else, not noticing how he smiles up at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen (you are). He eventually closes his eyes and rests his cheek against your stomach.

✧ giving: words of affirmation

March 7th talks quite a lot, especially if you were to ask Dan Heng about it. So if she's in love with you; her feelings are bound to slip out with her words. It wasn't hard for you to become aware of her crush on you because she just accidentally blurted it out one day. She was so happy when you told her you felt the same; even if this conversation was the furthest thing from planned.

March loves to explore the civilizations you travel to on the Astral Express and buying lots of souvenirs and clothes from there. So sometimes she'll drag you from shop to shop and often finds things she thinks would look good on you. No matter if you're wearing a fancy suit / dress or a 5 credit neon green "I survived the Belabogeyman attack" shirt from a shady souvenir shop, she hypes you up like you're on the front cover of a popular magazin.

"Aw look, you're so cute", she squeals and hugs you from the side, trying and failing to lift you up. There's at least 5 people in the shop staring at you and the shopkeeper glares at March, silently reminding her to keep her voice at an acceptable volume for a public building. "Oops... sorry", she cringes slightly and then turns to you again with a bright smile, "you should totally get this!"

Everytime you enter her room after a trip you find a new photo you took together on her wall. "Look at your smile on this one", she holds one of them up, "it makes me happy whenever I look at it."

Dan Heng told her to stop talking about you all the time so now she talks with you about you.

Definitely tells you she loves you plenty of times.

✧ receiving: gifts

March loves gifts. She's the kind of person who can't wait to open her birthday presents so you guys have to hide them from her every year; preferably somewhere where she can't reach or won't find them.

So when she receives gifts from you for no special occasion, she's gushing so much.

She loves flowers and chocolates. She definitely has a sweet tooth but will still share the chocolates with you. She is very interested in the meaning of the flowers you gift to her so if you can tell her about that, she'll be all the more happy. She loves romantic gestures like this. She has mostly read about them in romance novels and she's more than thrilled to finally receive them herself.

March also adores jewelry, whether you bought something for her or crafted it yourself. She'll wear it everyday and she's very proud whenever someone asks about it.

She posts about the gifts she receives in her status online as well. She'll be like "y/n got me this! 💓💓💓"

She dm's the pictures to Dan Heng as well and he leaves her on read.

When you gift her something, she gives you a hug and a kiss on the cheek before opening it. Once she opened it, she smiles at you brightly and kisses you on the lips. "Thank you so much for this!", she takes your hand into hers and squeezes it.

Receiving gifts from you makes her so happy. But being loved by you makes you feel like every day is her birthday either way. And for you, every day was March 7th.

✧ giving: quality time

Loving an Aeon wasn't the easiest endeavor. Especially not Nanook. But somehow you had touched the destructive god's heart and for the first time since they became what they were today, there was a life they wanted to treasure and protect.

They don't understand much about the human world as it was today, having mostly spent their time on a different plane of existence. It was only when they connected with you and took an interest in you; that they decided to walk among them for a while, to be able to spend time with you. At first their bitterness became apparent every day they spent with you, only scoffing at the people they saw going about their daily life and the things that they had built; which all would be wiped away by destruction if Nanook were to have their way.

But you took that as a challenge. You wanted to see if you could find something they liked about life, unaware that you had become that very phenomenon.

You made it your favorite pastime to show them all sorts of things from the material world and see their reaction to them. "What do you think of this painting?", you ask them, holding up a work of art you got from a market. "I'm not too fond of the sound it makes and the cosmic essence it depicts", they respond with a deadpan expression and you just look at them in confusion, "right, I forgot you can only perceive three dimensions."

Nanook, despite not letting it show, enjoys spending time with you; even though it could be challenging sometimes considering they were an Aeon and you were not. Sometimes they would ask you about things you couldn't see and other times they struggled to discern what things they saw you could pass through and which ones you considered "a wall".

✧ receiving: physical touch

Nanook loves your touch, much as they would like you to never notice that. They're not used to any physical sensations so they're very sensitive. They're unable to form coherent sentences when you so much as press a kiss to their lips. According to them it was very difficult to convey their thoughts in your way of speech when you were "trying to overwhelm them like this"

Giving Nanook affection also proved to be a challenge in more ways than one. The first time you tried to rest your head on their chest, your cheek touched the golden essence flowing out of them and you could perceive what you could only describe as the worst sensory overload anyone has ever experienced; a colorful mix of incoherent screaming and the faint sound of explosions; the feeling of all-encompassing despair and grief.

"What was THAT?", you stared at Nanook in shock, panting. "The entirety of traces left behind by destroyed worlds and ending lives from at least the last couple millenia", they answered very casually. You sighed and held your head, now suffering from a migraine. "At least it doesn't disintegrate me", you took a deep breath and started rummaging through your closet. "Only if I want it to", Nanook explained. "Charming", you whisper to yourself in a sarcastic way and toss them a shirt, "put this on."

Kisses are such a novelty to them. They're like "what was that?"

"Affection." "Do it again."

One time you pressed several kisses to their shoulder and Nanook just slow-blinked at you for like 5 minutes, before resting their head on your shoulder.

✧ giving: gifts

Yaoshi loves to bestow "blessings" upon you. Though, you have to teach them at first what you would consider an acceptable present.

The first one is immortality if you want it. Yaoshi would love nothing more than for you to be by their side forever.

Their next attempts at gift-giving left you feeling a little lost. They manifest before you, excitedly grabbing your cheeks and your waist and your shoulders with their hands and pulling you into a kiss. "My dearest, I made you a creature", they exclaim and reveal a Frankenstein-esque abomination the size of a volleyball. You can't quite discern what it actually is but it looks like an abstract mixture of a hamster, frog and a dragon. "Uh...thank you?", you try to be as polite as possible, unsure what to do with the creature as it spits a smaller version of itself onto your bedroom floor and then disintegrates. "It reincarnates out of itself", Yaoshi explains. "I can see that", you nod with wide eyes, patting Yaoshi's head.

One day, Yaoshi guides your spaceship to a distant location. "This is a planet I renovated for you", they join you as you land and explain their thoughts behind all the different new kinds of flowers they created specifically for you. "You're my greatest inspiration", they kiss your cheek and wrap their arms around you.

You eventually sit them down and calmly explain to them that one planet is more than enough and that you definitely do not need another creature. You teach them about your customs of giving gifts and they listen attentively. Maybe a bouquet of flowers would do next time.

✧ receiving: quality time

Yaoshi wants you to stay by their side forever. They perceive the passage of time very differently from you, yet they treasure and vividly remember every second by your side. Your bond of love is a sacred one in their eyes and they want to feel as close as possible to you.

They especially love talking to you and learning about your experiences that are so vastly different from their own. Despite being so intertwined with life itself; Yaoshi learns so much about life just from being with you. They never would have imagined you could give them so many new perspectives on the universe just by sharing your thoughts and beliefs with them.

Yaoshi always listens to you attentively and you see a sense of childlike wonder in their eyes when you speak about the way you experience the world, the things you value and the memories you treasure.

"Isn't it marvelous; how we see the world through such different lenses and are entirely different entities, yet we love each other so deeply and unconditionally", their voice sounds soft as they pull you onto their lap, holding you with their six arms and planting kisses on the back of your neck repeatedly.

Unlike Nanook, Yaoshi is very clingy. Quality Time with you always involves touching you in some way, be it kissing you repeatedly or holding you tightly within their embrace. Sometimes they sing you to sleep with a gentle voice, running their fingertips over your shoulder.

[autumnywinter]

Your Yan!Elliott posts are endlessly fascinating to me. I propose an idea for you if you are up for it: Yan!Elliott finally has his prize all to himself, only to learn he's simply done the job for them. He's not the only obsessed one. He's not got his prize caged up. No no. He's caged with them. Wasn't it always rather odd that his target of infatuation quickly learned everything about him, his schedules, his interests, his favorite foods? Did he ever even notice? (Based a little on the fact that--let's be real--we players are the weird ones)

Omg thank you! :) And true, I would 100% be considered the creep if my farmer's behavior imitated my own irl behavior haha T_T

I made Reader a lot more smug than I normally do. I hope this is good!!

Yandere!Elliott x Reader

Tags/warnings: Suggestive, drugging, mentioned stalking, dubcon (kinda but not really), yandere x yandere, gender neutral reader

Sometimes Elliott felt like he didn't even need to stalk you around the town. He'd walk out of his cabin, camera, binoculars, and caffeine gathered for a stakeout, only for you to be waiting outside with a smile on your face. That same smile that made him feel like he was soaring.

Not only that, but you knew just what he liked. Granted, he'd like anything if it were from you, but he had a whole year's supply worth of pomegranates and ink stocked up in his cabin.

He didn't even want to put either to use, treasuring each item you gave him like a rare gem. He did eventually crack and eat the pomegranates though. He was only human, after all!

There was no doubting it. You were perfect.

Each time he'd write lengthy letters to you, all from your "secret admirer", he'd watch your expressions. You always looked delighted to have received a letter. Though you never once attempted to find out who was sending you them. Elliott wondered if maybe you already knew, but never wanted to get his hopes up.

He made sure to describe how stunning you were in every letter he wrote. It was important for you to know how perfect you were. So perfect, that you didn't deserve to be around anyone else. No one would ever love you as much as Elliott did.

Despite the countless gifts he had received from you, despite you seeming to know his schedule down to a T, he was still determined he needed to win your affection over. All because he needed more.

He needed to hold you. He needed to taste you. He needed to marry you. He needed you.

"Hey, Elliott!"

The writer turned opened his door, delighted to see you. It was a rainy day, which was when he always stayed inside, save for stalking you at specific hours. You'd usually visit him on rainy days, and naturally he'd always be quick to invite you in. He knew you were likely coming over, which was why he already had a nice dinner prepared and everything.

"Come in, please," he said, holding the door open. You hurried inside and removed your wet raincoat, hanging it on the coat rack. Elliott headed straight for the kitchen, where he dished out the dinner he had prepared, along with the spiked wine.

He didn't have any awful intentions, of course! He just... wanted you to himself for a little longer than you normally stayed. That wasn't so wrong, was it? He wanted to savor this.

Besides, it wasn't like it was the first time he had done this.

"How are you?" he asked, sitting down at the table across from you. He waited eagerly for you to take a sip of the wine.

"I'm okay," you replied, giving him a smile that made his heart melt. "Just exhausted. I spent all day working."

He knew. He watched you.

"Then let me give you a nice relaxing time," he suggested, making sure to sound polite as he could. "Drink some more wine. Tell me all about your day." He didn't even realize his lovesick smile listening to you talk. He was excited for you to become sleepy and less aware of your surroundings. Then he could hold you and kiss you and you wouldn't even remember a thing the next morning.

It was honestly the only thing keeping him from going insane. He could be creepy as he wanted with you and you wouldn't even care. Although he'd use the term "romantic" instead.

After he nearly finished his own drink, he noticed his mind becoming hazy. He was a bit of a lightweight, he'd admit, but it took more than one glass to get him feeling like this. He tried to blink the dizziness from his own eyes, and could make out your eyes on him and a smirk on your face.

"Oh no, are you okay? You don't look so good," you feigned innocence. Even through his hazy state, Elliott could hear the smug grin in your voice.

"D-Did... did you...? Are you...?" He couldn't form a coherent sentence.

"Yep," you confirmed. "You've done it to me several times now, figured I'd return the favor. It's only fair, right?"

He should have been angry or upset about this, but he wasn't. Instead, his cheeks turned bright red as he stared at you in a dumbfounded awe. He didn't know what he was feeling right now, but it definitely wasn't anger. Arousal, anticipation, delight... maybe a mixture of all three.

"To be fair," you continued, "I never was really drugged. Just pretended to be, because I wanted to see what you would do." His breath hitched when you straddled his lap, holding his tie in your hand. "Just to see how far you'd take things."

"Y-You..." He never thought he'd see the day where his words failed him. But how was he supposed to speak when you were on his lap looking so delectable? He subconsciously licked his lips as he drank in every detail of your body. The way your chest rose and fell, your breaths as heavy as his, your eyes clouded with lust. He could only imagine how much of a fool he looked right now.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Your voice was soft, sweet. "Did you think I'd never find out?"

Elliott paused for a moment before chuckling. He rested his hands on your thighs and massaged them gently. "You know me too well, darling." He placed a gentle kiss to your throat. "How did you know?"

"How did I know you were spiking my drinks?" You giggled and kissed his ear. "Because you're not subtle at all." You licked a stripe down his neck, enjoying the shivers you felt from him. "And because I want you just as much as you want me."

He placed his forehead against yours and let out a shaky sigh. "I... I'm very relieved to hear that." He didn't even bother to hide his erection pressing against you. "If I could, I'd tell you just how much I adore you. But..." He trailed off, growing more deadweight. His head fell forward against your chest as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "I love you. I love you so much."

You rolled your eyes at how dramatic he was being. "You'll be fine, love," you whispered. "And I love you, too."

Despite Elliott falling limp into your arms, he refused to loosen his grip on you the entire night. Or the morning to come.

[cheekylittlepupp]

You all know A Astarion's epilogue outfit, but have you ever wondered whether it's bats or dragons? Me and @egooppidum were wondering that today and we came to the conclusion that it's 100% dragons. The symbolism is SUPERB. Hats off to Larian for this.

Brace yourselves this might be a bit long ~

"Red dragons are covetous, evil creatures, interested only in their own well-being, vanity and the extension of their treasure hoards. They are supremely confident of their own abilities."

"Rarely, red dragons would adopt a protective yet patronizing manner towards creatures they saw as inferior that lived within their self-imposed borders" - Oh you precious dark consort, how lucky you are to have the greatest vampire lord as your master, for him to bless you with his eternal gift, turn you into his spawn, his right hand.

"Red dragons believed that if a being was not strong enough to protect what it had, then it did not deserve to keep it. This applied not just to treasure, but to life. They despised weakness among their own kind." Literally ANY line from him when he talks about his former 'weak and pathetic self'.

Him being obssessed with power and how that's the only important thing in this world. This would be huge if I added all of those lines tbh.

"Red dragons were known for their swift and fiery tempers—if angered, they would explode into a destructive rage and become even more impulsive and vengeful" - Practically his entire dialogue when you break up with him after the ascension or declining to become his spawn. Even subtly threatening you

"Such rages were in part due to their fragile pride and feeling that any loss, insult, or defeat meant a loss of status if not addressed—causing chaos and destruction assuaged wounded pride and mitigated lost status" - He sees himself as the best version of himself right now and the fact that you reject him, in any kind of way wounds him greatly. This is why he starts hurling insults at you, to hurt you back, to try and cover up the fact that you just shattered his ego

"They were the most avaricious and were constantly looking to expand their hoards with treasure, they were the most obsessive collectors." Recall how he calls you his treasure and how you’ll be together forever, he will have you forever. He is in fact obsessed with wealth. He would also like to sequester you in a deep chamber in his lair, I mean palace and keep you all to himself.

"They would also boast about their magnificent hoards." Him at the epilogue party. ESPECIALLY in the non romanced version.

"Preferring their own company and engaging with others only when it had purpose, they were solitary creatures and cared little for news of other types of dragons, though they did look for news of other red dragons in their area and of affairs in the world in general. They used other charmed creatures as messengers, informants, and spies to bring them information"

"And of course they were recognized by their scarlet and crimson scaled hides" self explanatory really ~

"The vanity of red dragons was often revealed in their prideful postures and the looks of disdain with which they regarded all others"

"To have is nothing, to keep is all."

"In fact, in many ways, they were most like hoursecats" I had to add this, it's too funny

Okay I'm stopping here because This will be massive if I don't shut up. We can replace "red dragons" with Astarion and it would fit perfectly. I'm leaving you guys the link for the red dragon wiki, have fun with it ~

https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Red_dragon

[cipheramnesia]

Dr. Stevenson would have had to take Athena when she was a very young child. Maybe four years old, give or take. It could happen so many ways but it would have been so very easy for her to put just a little pressure on one or two people to have CPS take custody of the girl. This is all just a dream, and Athena's whole life after that is one neutral colored room after another with a slightly different ergonomic office chair every few years, and her only solid memory to hold on to is a reflection of light off water. Sand and water, surrounded by big trees with branches all bent heavy and green. A half open, half broken rusty gate clinging onto a couple concrete pillars long bereft of their accompanying wall. Athena would hold onto that for dear life, treasure any little sliver of color from a light blue hoodie to a cheap pair of headband bunny ears to blue and yellow rain-boots. They would have accumulated over the years of the taped on monitors, blood draws, urine samples, hair clippings, annual spinal tap.

Sometimes she'd go days without food, or her room temperature would swing from frigid to boiling, then the big orderly and the phlebotomist with Dr. Stevenson's sharp voice over them all would come in. "Be careful," she'd snap out, slapping off hands that gripped too tight, never once spoken out of love or even empathy. "Don't damage her, we don't know if we'll ever find another one." The concern only spoke of a rare and treasured object, perhaps a Cartier wind up music box. The others calmed her like an animal, "easy girl, just a moment and it's over." Sometimes when there was a new phlebotomist, Athena got a small piece of candy. She never had the same one more than a few months. She'd try to savor the hard lollipop or drop of chocolate and ignore the sound of Dr. Stevenson through the hollow doors, "This subject is on a specialized diet to ensure consistency of results, you are not to bring any such personal items-" and it went on.

Learning math and reading and writing after a fashion, information provided by Dr. Stevenson with grudging irritation, but once in awhile short and tantalizing sidepaths of the personal. "These sides are you, much like you and the light, you control both sides with the shared information. Oh, nevermind. Figure it out yourself." Athena would never know what kind of a monstrosity Dr. Stevenson was building from her blood and their studies, only the day that something went terribly wrong, and Dr. Stevenson didn't come to see her anymore. The time she'd showed the room the light and it hurt Dr. Stevenson, she still came back a few days later, but this time she left and Dr. White started taking care of her. He was much nicer, but wouldn't let her have her room in the dark, and did not think all the work Dr. Stevenson had been doing was very interesting. Sometimes he would talk about Dr. Stevenson's huge promotion with a sure bitterness. He showed up with a younger girl he called Alice.

[ghouldump]

Hiiiii I absolutely love your work thanks for feeding us with iwtv content!!!🫶🫶🫶🫶❤️❤️

I was thinking of a lestat x bi/queer fem reader, in which they’re just cuddling and chilling as they share their past experiences with lovers with no judgement and how they both came to terms with their sexuality, just something very fluffy!

That’s just a suggestion in case you needed ideas, don’t feel pressured at all! Have a great day🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

As You Are | Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ summary in request above ^

“You sure you okay, ma chérie, you've been awfully quiet, Lestat said, his fingertips brushing against your hip.

It was one of those rare nights, after hunting, there was nothing else to do but to spend time with each other. You both spent decades without companionship, drowning in loneliness, before meeting each other and now you treasured quality time together.

“I’m okay, today is an old friend's birthday, and I can't help thinking of her,” you told him, climbing out of bed, you grabbed the folded photo from inside of your coin purse.

“You two are a little close be friends,” he said, making you laugh.

“She said people would say that,” you smiled, folding the photo back up.

“You’ve been with a woman, this friend of yours,” he quickly realized.

“Yes, you aren't the only one who doesn't discriminate,” you laughed at how theatrical he was. Lestat had been open about his diverse tastes and history, while you were oftentimes a closed book, listening to his stories, rather than telling your own.

“How did I not know this?”

“I guess it slipped my mind, I don't talk about it, I've learned things and healed, and have no regrets,” you shrugged.

“You cannot tell me that and not elaborate…”

“Well, early 1900s, I had obviously just been turned, I tried dating around for a bit, but nothing worked out, until Helen. I always felt things towards women, but you know how things were back then, I couldn't dare express these feelings to anyone. I probably would've gotten a lobotomy,” you said, making him snicker.

“I realized if I would be here forever, I needed to come to terms with myself. Helen lived in the same apartment building, and I, of course, began to flirt with her. She was like I once was, hiding her true identity, afraid of judgment from outsiders. We were together for some time, in secret. I eventually wanted to turn her, but she was too afraid, blinded by her own internal conflict. We ultimately parted, and she went on with her life. I didn't hear from her again, until I was invited to her funeral, by her children,” you told him, he listened attentively, his softened eyes staring at your face, as he held you close.

“Oh, ma chérie”

“For the longest, I struggled with accepting who I was, questioning what was wrong with me, but I eventually could see myself healing, as time went on. I dated a few others, but none could capture my heart like her, I wouldn't allow myself to fully enjoy and give in until I met you,” you smiled, pecking his lips.

“I thought I wasn't able to love again, after my Nicky, until you came along, and I suppose things worked out perfectly,” he said, his finger brushing against your face.

“We’re one and the same”

“I agree, although it does make things more interesting knowing you also have equally eclectic taste, we’ll have to explore this scandalous side of you,” he grinned.

“What did you have in mind?” you asked, laughing at the mischievous grin on his lips.

“Nothing, for now, I just want to love you, completely and unconditionally, as you are,” he snuggled against you.

“Yes, we can invite someone except not that banchy-singing whore,” you said, hearing his thoughts, questioning if you would be open to a third joining you two in bed, from time to time.

“Thank god, I thought I would have had to beg,” he said, wrapping his arms around you, as he rolled over.

[leavingsunsets]

Helllloo!!

I would like to request a senkuu x reader if possible! (Preferably some angst + romance but anything works!) Been looking for some inspiration and I love your work!

Also hopefully you're okay if I draw some of your work too

Thank youuuu!! (>u<)/

im okay with you drawing my work! saw some of ur art, and wow! glad ur a fan tehee :33 i see you've given me an angst plot, with romance? yes i will definitely fulfill this. i waaaassss ssupposed to make this action filled with scene wit reader dying in battle of treasure island arc and senku going "WHAT" and head in hands and sobbing and the gang has to go back to the mainland hat on stomach like ":(" but exams and research defense finished and i also jus watched cute little vid of an old couple so this is jussttt hmmm a softer angst set between events ig

"ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ."

[ꜱᴇɴᴋᴜ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

It wasn't really a secret. You didn't even try, honestly.

Since the first of times of where you'd glimpsed his face at school, to the latest catch of him swirling fluid in a beaker, you've always been confident in your feelings.

Albeit a bit clumsy in your attempts, you were honest, never mincing them, never embarrassed.

"Senku, I really really like you!"

"Yeah, okay, could you pass me that screwdriver?" he says, both of you 6 years old in his room, as he gestures to the tool beside you.

"Senku, I want to date you. I heard Aimi had a boyfriend recently and I was thinking-" your voice goes interrupted as the loud sound of Senku's machinery overpower yours. 13 years old, another one of his favorite past times.

"Senku, if we were both nobles in medieval fantasy and I had to marry someone in order to get a persistent suitor off my back, I'd go to you. Offer a contract with an eventual divorce, but then we fall in love in a slow burn romance and start rethinking about our agreement."

"Can you- just- HELP ME, DAMN IT." Senku heaves, 16 years old, face turning red as he struggles to hold the boxes of equipment you came to help him with.

All these confessions, all these words, even before everything changed. The clatter of a can hitting the ground.

...

In this new life, surely, you know, Senku's had an absolute goal for this world. To rebuilt it as it was, from his own two hands. In your own way, you've had to learn how to pace your feelings.

Instead of words, as you always did, you decided to translate your affections into a language that matters most in a time like this.

Actions.

For every problem, every step he takes, you take with him. Express your thoughts, concerns, ideas. Any progress, you're there to celebrate with, any process, you're there to assist.

Declarations of love aren't so frequent, though you do like to sneak it in rarely. Announcing it in bursts of passion at the top of your lungs. Quite an antic you do, much to his embarrassment. It's become a well known fact, and often a joke between company.

Though, sometimes you wonder if it's what makes him doubt it. Your overt confessions, cheesy poems and bustling energy that could rival Taiju's. Was it too clumsy? Too obvious that he feels it's an exaggerated farce for show?

To this, you whisper gingerly in the dead of night, in the earliest of mornings,

"Senku. I really really like you."

In the times of uneventful hours, peacefulness in comfortable silence,

"Senku,"

You know, of course you do, of all people.

No one knows him more than you and that fact would've made you happy of such a thing if it couldn't break your heart more. The love of your life, saying everything said in a language that matters most in this time.

An unreadable glance. When the sun beams down brightly and you stare at him lovingly like he's hung the stars in the sky.

Winter strikes mercilessly, days are rough, tensions are high. When everything's all good and done, a bold pinkie inches towards his own. He doesn't pull away, but his hand moves back just as further.

Late at night, behind the tree he leans upon, watching, just watching. His ruby eyes enraptured by the night's celestial pearl.

Gaze too high, to see you.

You close your eyes.

You don't think you can ever stop loving him, despite that. That man doesn't like dragging things out, so you're sure a rejection is soon to come. Whether you approach first or not.

Why he doesn't do it sooner? You know why. As much as he doesn't reciprocate, you know how hesitant he is when it comes to close relationships such as you. Is he scared of breaking your friendship?

It's not the warmth you're looking for, but it's the warmth you can get. Even so, you would never expect him to return just as much as you've given. You love him for him, and not for anything else.

Tragic, how terribly you do.

Maybe one day, you'll learn to forget, to move your heart from where it isn't supposed to be. Maybe one day, you would stop gazing at him with something much more than fondness, waiting for his eyes to find its way back to you.

But until then,

"-I love you."

[calisources]

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

All sentences has been taken from different media and soruces about life in the royal court, involving the introgue of succession, war, marriage, kings and queens and tournaments. Most of this are acceptable for all audience except one with some foul language. Chance names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Majesty.

You don't know a woman until you've met her in court.

A queen keeps a court that is spoken about. A goddess keeps a court that is never forgotten.

And you, lady? Are you a woman of conscience or of ambition?

That's a question rarely asked here at court.

Court games aren't fair. They don't judge men by their worth, and they aren't about what's just.

We know all men are not created equal in the sense some people would make us believe .

Either you break the law, or the law breaks you.

There is no playacting in this court. If you stay your hand, they will cut it off.

Power does not pardon, power punishes.

Listen! The court jester's cap and bells. The King is coming!

He was a man with a vision- and an extraordinary vision it was.

The cat who lived in the Palace had been awarded the head-dress of nobility and was called Lady Myobu.

In every reign there comes one night of greatest blackness, when a King must send away his court of flatterers and servants, and sit alone in the dark with the beast called truth.

It is important to refuse to be intimidated.

They all come innocent in court.

Is that how you get propositioned at the court? 'Mylady, would you be so kind as to allow me to put my manhood in your vagina'?

They used to say that, in a battle between the lion and the tiger, the winner was the monkey, who watched from a distance.

Men love those creatures that need to be taken care of.

 If you want to tame a lioness you need to become a lion, not a goat. 

 A doe is easier to keep.

The woman did not care for empty compliments; to get such a woman, one needed to put forth effort.

I’m a terrible prince. I should put my kingdom first and everything else second, but your first. I want you by my side every second . . .

Once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia.

She calls herself the Queen of Narnia thought she has no right to be queen at all.

Plenty of people have told me you are not my father.

It is necessary for a prince to have the people friendly.”

Royalty is not a right, Captain. The willingness of the people to follow a ruler is what gives her power.

Here, in this place, by this people, I have been chosen. 

These men are tired of being told whom to follow. Now they have a choice, and they use that choice to call me Princess.

I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics. 

A prince ought also to show himself a patron of ability, and to honour the proficient in every art.

You should never have been only a little girl, you should have always been a crown princess.

You knew you would be sending me away?

A born king is a very rare being.

The world will need to know that I’m the last royal left. Their queen.

There’s royalty in me, but stronger than that there is adventure.

My life is the Crown and yours is politics, and I will not trade one prison for another.

Dignity is trained into royal children before they can toddle.

The first year of marriage is not always easy, especially within the Royal Family.

The real intelligence in the royal family comes through my parents .

The interpretation of dreams is the royal road to a knowledge of the unconscious activities of the mind.

The royal road to a man's heart is to talk to him about the things he treasures most.

The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.

The winner will marry the prince.

You want to marry my daughter? Prove yourself worthy.

That is acceptable. A king is a martyr to their ideals.

f I rule the nation as king, I cannot ask to live as a person.

A wise king never seeks out war, but... he must always be ready for it.

All men need something greater than themselves to look up to and worship. They must be able to touch the divine here on earth

I am the First Imperial Princess of the Misurugi Empire! 

You can tell she's a princess, she doesn't need a crown.

You, sir, are the most uncharming prince I have ever met! In fact, the only thing royal about you is that you are a royal pain.

No one ever told her "no." 

 In no time at flat, she'll get herself established as his official mistress, with her own rooms at the palace.

These men are my bodyguards, their lives forfeit to the guarantee of my physical safety. Of their loyalty to me, there shall be no question nor doubt.

Some balls are held for charity And some for fancy dress, But when they're held for pleasure They're the balls that I like best.

Be careful of what women with gowns plan, specially in a ballroom. 

The art of husband seeking is something every woman has been trained since birth.

Many wives and consorts, of course.

Who is to rule when I am gone? You are a princess. I have no son.

Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne.

Did I not mention there was another?

A king must always have an heir and a spare.

He was born to be a king... He rules men just by breathing. When he walks into a room, he commands it. People love him.

Two knights off to rescue a princess. Sounds like a great song.

As the king's brother, you should've been first in line!

 I was first in line. Until the little hairball was born.

That "hairball" is my son, and your future king.

My parents were... rather traditional. They wanted the heir and the spare, and I was left in the cold.

It cannot be easy being the youngest prince. To have others expect nothing from you, yet still shake their heads in disapproval.

 If my uncle attacks King's Landing I'll ride out to meet him.

You are in need of serious princess lessons.

 You're the new ruler of Mechanicsburg. You need to act like it.

Every princess needs a battle axe. Here. Use this one until we find you something more impressive.

You know what they used to write on cannons? The last argument of kings. I guess you could say magic is the last argument of queens.

A tournament has been arranged in your name, so you must attend and make yourself presentable.

They hope to find me a husband here. They said I am already a woman bled.

[mayabruhbruh]

What do you think of the possibility of Will and Chance happening? I feel like it would be really poor writing tbh but I feel like they will give Will a different love interest because they’ll try to make all of the audience „happy“ But that would just truly not align with the writing so far I feel like.

Love your analyses btw<3

THANK YOUU! That's so kind :) And great ask! This is definitely a topic that the ST fandom needs to discuss.

The default question when people have little to no hope in Byler is, well, who the hell is Will going to end up with? Because it’s become increasingly evident that they’re trying to set him up for a romance. The “im not gonna fall in love”, the “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls”, even the gif shown above. It all can be interpreted to mean that Will is going to find his person soon.

So... to be completely honest, I had no idea who Chance was until this ask popped up and I had to look him up💀. It’s been a while since I’ve been on here, so I’m a little rusty on the deep lore lmao. So, in the off chance that others might also be confused, here’s a (rare) gif of him I found.

I think that’s him with the Hawkins cap on the right. Correct me if I’m wrong.

I’m not sure where the rumors that this guy was going to become a bigger part of the show came from, but that seems highly unlikely to me. I feel like they would have either hinted at it in the fourth season (like how they’re giving Patrick here quite a sizeable role so that he’ll be memorable to us later when he gets vecnafied) or they would have announced him as a more prominent character already like how they did for s5 with Holly, that one new kid character, and also how they did Amybeth for s4. Idk, maybe it’s unreasonable to think they would have to do that, but it feels quite too out-of-the-blue. Especially for a character that would take on the role of becoming our central character’s love interest, which is a BIG DEAL. Especially if it’s queer lol.

Secondly, I firmly believe that it would be a disservice to Will’s own desires to meet someone new.

Will said this explicitly in the van scene, and as of now, we’re still under the impression that Mike is his person. Forget about Mike’s issues and feelings for a second, and think about what Will is saying here. He feels like a mistake for being different, but Mike makes him feel like he’s not a mistake at all, that he’s better for being different. Mike gives him courage to fight on. Fuck. Tbh, it makes me wonder how long he’d felt this way. As a byler, you might be inclined to think his feelings have been on for forever, but narratively, he could have easily just realized his own feelings very recently, most likely sometime between season 3 and 4. It doesn’t mean the feelings weren’t there before, but realistically neither Will nor the general audience were aware of it before now.

Moving on.

Has anyone heard of the rule of Chekhov’s gun? It’s an incredibly clever and widely-used tool in screenwriting and storytelling in general that helps to clue the watchers in for what’s to come next.

Think of Lucas’ wrist rocket in season 1. When they introduced it as a flimsy-looking, no-good weapon that he’d put too much pride in at first, it gives us a good laugh and we move on. But really, it very meticulously set us up to subconsciously anticipate to see it again later. That’s what Chekhov’s gun is all about. Set-ups, foreshadowing, hidden treasures.

Another great example would be the painting reveal of s4. Obviously, after finding out that Will was painting something, bylers immediately figured it was for Mike and BEGGED and HOPED and PLEADED that we’d be able to finally see it, but to the general audience it was just another something that they’d have to pick apart and realize was actually of importance as the season progressed. (It’s also a good way of showing that the writers are fully capable of engrossing the entire fan base and general audience in his and Mike’s story. Just knowing Will had painted something and that it was for Mike created this sense of PLEASE TELL ME WHAT IT IS AND WJATS GOING ON and whatnot that watchers are simply so susceptible to it’s insane.)

Okay, back to the van scene. Will’s confession.

Now, I’m not saying that the writers intentionally used this foreshadowing tool for us to find and understand immediately. There are plenty, plenty of instances where writers use Chekhov’s gun principle and it flies over peoples heads purposefully. What I’m trying to say is that, thematically and narratively, they would never have introduced Wills feelings for Mike if not for it to have importance to the story, or for nothing to happen with it at all. It’s a set up. And a maddeningly good one, at that. Because queer stories already do tend to fly over people’s heads, and also because there’s the added drama between Mike and Eleven that makes it seem quite impossible for any of these feelings to be addressed in the midst of such emotional chaos. But whatever. I think I’m rambling.

Basically, whether they end up together or not, whether Mike reciprocates these feelings, Will is forever established to be in love with Mike. The confession was simply too grand and emotional and earnest for him to just switch up abruptly next season when he meets someone new that he might have a better chance with. Even if there were to be a whole new arc for him where he learns to let go of Mike or something crappy like that, it would be terrible writing on their end and poor use of a well-set-up Chekhov’s gun reference. It would be like introducing the gun in the display case in scene one, then two scenes later just tucking it away into a storage closet for the remainder of the story. Like… what?

And plus, it’s HIGHLY unlikely that Will would end up with that sort of storyline next season when he’s literally WITH Mike for presumably a majority of the time (based on the set pics so far).

So that’s my debunking of the Chance rumors :) and I didn’t even get to mention how incompatible they’d be just naturally as characters. Chance, a Jason-following jock that hates Dungeons and Dragons, fantasy and nerdy things, and willingly assisted in beating up the Hellfire Club when they were trying to find Eddie. What about that at all screams Will’s type? And if you’re thinking “unconventional couple enemies to lovers”, just don’t. This isn’t a rom-com, especially for a queer plot line lol. I think it’s safe to say there’s no “chance”😉 that they will ever happen. And either way, it’d be a bummer if they did. Cus it would just be Will defeatedly settling for someone that isn’t Mike.

UGH! It makes me sad that the one thing that is firmly being teased by the writers (Will’s love playing a major role in the plot to come) is constantly being questioned and framed as different questions. “Will Mike reciprocate?” “Does this mean Mike and Eleven break up?” “Who will end up with who?” SHHH Frankly, to me this is already a win. It’s become obvious that Will having feelings for him will come up again soon, and the rest of the evidence that accounts for Mike’s end already speaks for itself, so I prefer to just sit back and watch it all unfold.

Again, thanks so much for the ask!! This was so fun to dissect and feel free to keep sending questions into my inbox. It might take me a second to post my response but I’m determined to get through all of them. Love you guys!! <3

[bright-side20]

HOFAS SPOILER (concerning the Cauldron)

_First let's go back to Rhys's explanation of the mating bonds:

“What decides it? Who decides it?” Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies …”

It is clearly stated that the bond can be decided by fate, the mother, or the cauldron.

“There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.” A smile at me—at the rareness, perhaps, of what we had'.…' Many mated pairs will try to make it work, believing the Cauldron selected them for a reason. Only years later will they realize that perhaps the pairing was not ideal in spirit.”

There are bonds only to provide the strongest offspring, like Rhys's parents or Tamlin's parents bond and there are rare bonds of true paired souls like Feysand and Nessian bond.

HOFAS:

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the daglan captured it and used their power to twist it. To turn it into something more lethal. No longer a tool of creation, but of destruction.

An explanation by a Daglan:

We gathered our power and imbued these gifts in the Cauldron, so that it would work our will. With this, the treasures were made. And then we connected the essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world. Destroy the Cauldron and you destroy this world. One cannot exists without another.

The Cauldron was turned by the Daglan to serve their agenda, and they connected it to Prythian in a way that if anyone tries to destroy it, Prythian will be destroyed as well.

_Now, let's get an idea about the Asteri's aka Daglan breeding system:

Celestina only said, “He departs tomorrow. I shall visit his keep next month if there is not … a change in my situation by then.”If she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

Hunt nodded, even as disgust and rage curled through him. The Asteri had ordered this, done this. They’d make Celestina keep going to Ephraim until she was pregnant with the child they wanted her to bear. Another little Archangel for them to mold into a monster.

Doesn't it sound like 'producing strong' offspring, 'natural function'?

What if the Asteri back in Prythian manipulated the cauldron to create mating bonds, knowing the importance of it for the Fae, so they could benefit from their children and manipulate them?

I don't know why antis kept accusing Elriels of spreading misinformation, considering our conclusions are based on what's written in the books.

The Cauldron literally operates under Daglan's system, so it can't be trusted; indeed, it is not a perfect matching system.

_Let's get back to these important scenes:

"If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.”.... “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

Madja here is clearly addressing the real meeting bond—the one of paired souls.

Lucien:

“There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us. .... “And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek. Whatever he’d felt, it wasn’t what we were looking for. Even if we had no idea what, precisely, that was.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

Azriel :

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

I think this was foreshadowing. Even though a bond exists between them, Lucien wasn't able to sense the change in Elain, while Azriel managed to discern it.

What if the Cauldron's bond between Lucien and Elain, described as 'a thread tied to a rib,' is what was considered a 'natural function'? Yet, there exists another bond between her and Azriel, 'a bridge between souls,' and they are the true paired souls by the mother or the fate . What if the Cauldron was wrong?

I know the antis argument of that means Lucien is stronger than Az, which is why the Cauldron chose him for Elain. When the bond snapped between them, Azriel was out of power, literally dying. It's another reason the Cauldron might be wrong.

Also, the argument: if the Cauldron is corrupted and loves Elain, then she's a villain.

Duh? Why not consider that even though it's corrupted, it recognized Elain's pure heart and her power, the different kind of strength concentrated in her kindness? If she influenced it, maybe she has the ability to fix the Cauldron, turning it back to its original purpose, a tool of creation, not destruction.

[ghostlychief]

Weighted Blanket

This is part 2 to Pockets of Peace

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Wc: 3.8k+ (First half is in Simon’s POV, second is reader’s POV)

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of children being victims on a mission (nothing graphic), brief, BRIEF mentions of self harm (this part is italicized if you want to skip OR can read it as wounds from fights or missions; emotionally vulnerable reader and Simon; some fluff; some cuddling

Summary: After your last mission, things changed between you and Ghost. Although feelings shifted and emerged, your quiet routine with the Lieutenant stayed the same. He never failed to provide you with little pockets of peace throughout your tumultuous life, and you treasure these moments, holding them close to your heart. Except this time, it’s you who returns the favor, and offers him a warm embrace to grieve quietly.

A/N: HELLO! Part two to Pockets of Peace is finally here. I really can’t express my gratitude for all the love that fic received. I really appreciate all your likes, comments, and reblogs. Comments are always so fun to read and same goes for the reblog tags <3 This is another purely indulgent fic lmao and I found this part harder to write than the first, so I hope you enjoy it just as much. As mentioned, the first half is written from Simon’s POV, so that was fun to explore and write. Sorry for any typos/grammar mistakes </3

ENJOY!

--

Simon didn’t have much to be grateful for in his life. Sure, he was thankful for the camaraderie he found within task 141, and his friendship with Soap (although he will never admit that they’re true friends). Outside of those two things, there wasn’t much, and he was okay with that. Comes with the line of work, he supposed.

It’s hard to trust people when majority end up pointing their gun at you, even after years of working together, training together, living together. Hell, it took him years to feel somewhat comfortable around the task 141 members. When he first joined, he barely talked to anyone except when necessary either when preparing for a mission, or during a mission. Afterwards he would float off to his room and be alone. He ate alone, trained alone (unless sparing was required by Price), he went out alone. Not that he went out a lot, but if he had to leave the base, it was alone. He was somewhat of a recluse, a phantom hiding in the shadows that the team rarely ever saw.

The team member he first grew closest to, not without them trying, was Soap. The outgoing sergeant was able to make a friend out of the standoffish lieutenant, and even got Ghost to crack jokes during missions, a big deal for task force 141. This happened a little over a year and a half after Ghost joined the team. And now fast forward almost seven years later, and here he was, still on task force 141, but with a friend of sorts. That was one thing he was grateful for.

About two years in, he started to eat breakfast when the other team members did. Did he sit with them? No, of course not, but he was eating at the same time, just a few tables away. He started training with the other members more regularly, and on occasion, would coach them and give them tips here and there. And after a mission, he would sometimes tag along with the other men when they went out to a bar to wind down.

--

One night, shortly after you joined task 141, Ghost begrudgingly accepted Soap’s invite to go to a bar with the other male team members. Once they got there and had a few drinks, they were poking fun at him for having a “soft spot” for the new recruit.

He just rolled his eyes at their comments, and muttered “Fuck off,” up until they started talking about your skillset. Specifically, your lack of skills in sparing.

“Well, she certainly could improve her technique. We were sparing the other day, and I almost squashed her like a bug.”

“Yeah, she’s fast, but sure doesn’t know what to do with her speed and size. I pinned her down almost every time.”

“Yeah, last week, I had her in a headlock and almost made her pass out.”

“Hey Ghost, haven’t you been training with her? I’m sure you crush her each time you spar; she doesn’t have a chance against you.”

“Doubt she’s improved at all, even with Ghost’s help.”

Ghost couldn’t help but notice the frequent use of the word ‘almost,’ and at this point, he had enough. The comments the 141 members made weren’t even accurate. Sure, you had some improving to do, but by no means were you bad. He felt like they just felt threatened by you, a young woman with much more potential than them. He also had a feeling that they were jealous of your mastery at sniping. To put it simply, Ghost knew they were full of shit.

“She’s actually improved quite a lot.” His rough voice pierces through the air, silencing the banter surrounding him.

Embers burned at the pit of his stomach at the thoughtless comments his teammates said so flippantly about you. Embers that soon caught fire, and burned bright crimson flames. He stayed composed, but his eyes flickered, darkened by the shadows of the black paint surrounding them, and the tarnished skull that covered his nose and mouth. All the more imposing to those who looked at him.

“Plus, someone had to give her pointers for fighting a highly skilled, large, and imposing person; something you short fucks couldn’t do.”

Ghost was met with silence once again, and he smirked under his balaclava. Since then, the other men of task 141 have not commented on your sparing abilities, not wanting to be cursed out by Ghost.

And hey, it was all worth it when the next day you defeated Soap, match after match.

--

New recruits of 141 typically come and go, retention isn’t all that great. So, when you joined the team, he wasn’t expecting you to persevere, and stay. He was impressed by your skillset; snipers are always impressive in his mind. But your agility and speed that allowed you to take down opponents twice your size, is what mainly caught his eye. Sure, you needed some improvement, but you were promising.

When you first joined the team, you were so nice to everyone, even him. That’s not something he’s privy to in his line of work. Yet, you didn’t seem intimidated by him at all, not in the slightest. He didn’t have the slightest clue as to why. You just kept being so warm to him and he didn’t know what to do with that.

Of course, he wasn’t nervous to be around you, no that certainty wasn’t it; but he couldn’t help the warm feeling that would spread through his chest whenever you would talk to him. At first you only conversed with one another in meetings, debriefs, missions, etc. All work related, with no cross over into ‘personal life territory’. Simon was content with this, he rarely ever crossed that boundary with the other 141 teammates, so why would he with you? Incidentally, you and him started to get paired together mission after mission, and he couldn’t help but want more.

Ghost was immediately impressed at your abilities to smoothly get in and get out during missions, especially with what little experience you had. Not that you were any less competent than any of the other 141 team members, you just hadn’t been in the field for as long as some of them. You were smart as a whip though, and you got the job done quickly and quietly, and never got in his way. That was something he deeply respected about you. You understood the task at hand, asked questions if needed, but otherwise were highly independent. An admirable trait that takes some weight off of his shoulders as a Lieutenant. Something that he quickly added to his list of things he was grateful for.

You also had the curiosity to learn more, and to learn from the more experienced team members. Always ready with a question, and never embarrassed to ask. Sure, you were quiet like him, but when it came to job stuff, you didn’t hesitate to make your presence known.

He still remembers, one night after completing a mission, you and him were sitting in the helicopter. You turned to him and asked, “How is it that you’re never scared?” Your sweet voice traveled over to him through the coms and he felt confounded by your question. He felt his stomach warm at your tone in which you asked him this. Did you somehow look up to him?

“Who said I was never scared?” He glanced over at you and saw your eyes sparkle at his response.

--

To say that Ghost was concerned after you got shot in the leg was an understatement. Although he tried his best to stay composed, he was having a full-blown crisis inside his mind while trying to get you to safety, which, was a safe house miles from your current location. He couldn’t properly examine your wound, so he had no idea how bad of a state you were in, and he hated blind spots.

That was the first mission he ever felt real fear for you; distressed with thoughts that said you wouldn’t make it back. Thoughts that kept bouncing around, tormenting him the whole journey to the safe house. Luckily when you guys arrived, he was able to fully assess your wound and it didn’t look life threatening. No, all he had to do was clean, stich, and bandage it.

Simple enough, right? Wrong.

Of course, of course the best way to get the wound clean and ready for stitching was for your fucking pants to come off.

Things were never easy for Ghost.

His nerves didn’t stop him though and he somehow managed to get through everything without making a complete fool out of himself. Though, if you could somehow hear his heartbeat, at all, it would have been a dead giveaway, as it thumped erratically in his chest. There were moments when he was afraid it would burst.

Then, only to make this mission even worse, was him waking up to your blood curdling screams in the middle of the night. His first thought was that the enemy found you guys, and they got to you first. He thought that he failed to protect you, which was a silent promise he made to himself after the first night you guys drank beer in his room.

However, when he entered the living room, he saw that no one was in the room, it was just you on the couch where he left you. Your screams turned into cries, then sobs, then screams again. It was deafening and he couldn’t stand to hear it any longer. It took a few good shakes to wake you and he felt his heartstrings pinch in his chest when you apologized to him for waking him up, completely disregarding the trauma you were currently experiencing.

He decided right then and there that what you needed right now was not a work colleague, but a friend. He carried you to bed that night, hoping to provide you with some consolation, wanting to provide you with anything that would make you feel safe again. And before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself closing the distance between your lips, and he felt you kissing back. He may have added that to the list of things he felt grateful for.

--

It’s been a few weeks since then. Your leg is pretty much all healed, and you have full mobility. All thanks to Ghost’s handy work. Although you felt fine and ready to get back out there, Simon insisted that you continue to rest. He even managed to convince Price not to assign you to any missions for the next month, which thoroughly pissed you off.

Who was he to boss you around and tell you when you were ready or not to start working again? He was technically your direct supervisor, so he did have the power to boss you around, but still!

Even though you were slightly peeved at him, you knew that it came from a good place. He was just worried about you, and this was his way of showing it, well, in front of the team at least.

In private, he had other ways to show you how much he cared for you. After he learned about your nightmares, he insisted that you come to him whenever they occur. You were hesitant at first to take him up on his offer. What if he just said that to be nice and he just feels bad for me? You didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. Even though, you found yourself slowly start to cross more and more boundaries with him as the weeks went on.

So, the first night you experienced another nightmare, you found yourself in front of Simon’s door. You probably stood there for at least a minute, racking up the courage to knock. But before you could even do that, the door swung open to reveal a sleepy looking Simon decked out in black sweats and his signature balaclava.

Since he was so close to you, you had to crane your neck to look up at him and meet his eyes. Why he was still wearing his mask at this hour, you were unsure. He usually took it off to sleep, but you were too unmoored to ask.

“I heard your footsteps approach my door.” His gravelly voice fills the space in-between, and he casually leans on the door frame.

“Oh.” You looked down at your slippers and twiddle your thumbs.

“Why don’t you come in, yeah?” Simon’s voice lifts up a bit at the end of his question, and you look back up at him and offer him a small smile.

“I’d like that, thank you Simon.” It still felt weird on your tongue to call the Lieutenant by his first name, but your chest sparked each time you did so. He held out is hand and you fit your palm against his, and he leads you into his room, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

You and Simon talked for what felt like hours before you fell asleep, head on his shoulder and his hand rubbing your head.

It was a common occurrence after that, to visit Simon’s room at night whenever you woke up screaming in the dark of your own room. It felt like nothing could happen to you in your dreams, so as long as Simon’s arms were wrapped around you, almost like an anchor. Weighing you down, preventing you from drifting too far away.

But even with this new sense of security surrounding you, some nights when you fell asleep with Simon next to you, the nightmares would still creep into your mind. Though, Simon was right there to help bring you back.

If for some reason you both separated during the night and were sleeping apart, you’d reach out to him after waking, your hand patting the bed, searching for him.

“Simon?”

“I’m right here.” He’d then swiftly pull you back into him.

He’d rub your back. Up down, up down.

Wrap his arms around you. Squeeze.

Kiss your forehead. Smooth back your hair.

Whisper affirming words that reminded you that it’s all in your head, you’re safe in this reality, he’s here. No one is trying to harm you.

Other nights, you found yourselves simply enjoying each other’s company. You love to outline his forearm tattoos with your fingers and trace your hand up his arm to his broad shoulders, to his chest. You like to trail your hand across his abs and just love to explore his whole body with your hands.

He does the same, and his touch always feels so heavenly. Though his hands were calloused and rough, they were always extra gentle in handling you.

His hand brushes over the top of your thigh and his fingertips graze over the slightly raised bumps that span across your tender skin. Your once smooth legs, now marked permanently with light lines. You feel his hand pause after it initially goes over this area of your leg. And you know, that he knows.

Before you can say anything, and push him away, his warm hand comes back up to rest at the top of your thigh, and his thumb gently traces circles over the scarred area. He doesn’t say a word, but his touches mean everything to you, and it’s all you need.

You feel him squeeze his arms that are already wrapped around your form, and feel a slight pressure against the top of your head, like a kiss was laid upon your hair.

You feel your breathing start to slow, and before you know it, you’re drifting off to sleep, the steady rhythm of Simon’s heart calling out to you like a siren with a lullaby.

You started to feel a deep sense of familiarity within the four walls of Simon’s room, and you knew that it would always be a place of condolement for your aching self. Little did you know, that you provided just as much relief, if not more, to Simon as well. Although more rare than yours, Simon had bad days too.

--

Tonight was no different than any other; you and Simon are lying in bed together and you’re semi-on top of him, leg thrown over his waist, head on his shoulder, fingers mapping out his entire being.

“If you want to talk about it, you know that you can, right?” You absentmindedly trace your pointer finger across the span of his chest as you ask him this. Drawing small circles into the fabric of his black t-shirt.

To Simon, it felt like there were small sparks leaving your fingertips every time you touched him, causing his heart to ignite.

“I’m always here to listen.” You remind him one more time.

Simon just came back from a particularly brutal mission, one that he has told you very little about. They were gone for almost two weeks and all you were able to find out from Soap was that children were involved- a sensitive subject for Simon. You can only imagine what he went through during the mission, and now, what he’s dealing with in the aftermath. You’re trying not to push too much, but you want him to talk to you.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know that. But you shouldn’t have to.”

You pause your ministrations and crane your neck to look up at him with a slight pout on your lips. This was always a struggle with him, he didn’t like to talk to you, let alone anyone when he was going through something. He would just put up a wall and it broke your heart. Sometimes you would get bits and pieces, but never the whole picture; it was always fuzzy to you.

You wanted him to feel safe enough that he could confide in you, vent to you, about whatever was on his mind, but you knew it wasn’t that easy and that these things take time. You’re patient with him, as he is with you. It’s the least you can owe him for all he’s done for you. This is his time to lament, not yours to be nosey. So, you just let him be.

He lets out a sigh and then moves you so you’re laying completely on top of him. He tries not to be too rough as his hands grab onto your waist to situate you further, and he tucks your head under his chin.

One arm wraps around your middle and the other comes up to hold the back of your head.

“I just want you to be here with me right now, like this. That’s all I need.” His breath tickles your hair and you succumb to his wish, relaxing against him.

“Ok, I can do that.” Your hands come up to wrap around his neck, and you pull him impossibly closer to you, no inch of yourself is left untouched by Simon.

He likes to put you in this position whenever he can’t find the right words to explain. He instead craves the comfort of physicality, liking the weight of you on top of him.

Your hand comes up to play with his hair at the nape of his neck. You found that his hair tends to curl a little at the end, initially not expecting his hair to be this long. Silly, you know, but you’re honored that you’re one of the few people that get to see him like this.

You don’t know how long you and Simon lay like this; time always seemed to bend and disappear when you were with him. Since you guys had been lying in silence for so long, his voice startles you when he speaks for the first time in what felt like hours.

His hand that was resting on your lower back is now softly stroking your spine in a steady up and down motion.

“I felt scared for the first time in a while, on the last mission.”

His admission surprises you, but you wait a beat to see if he’s going to say anything else before you respond.

You’re glad that you do, because he continues to speak in a hushed voice.

“I- I didn’t know how to help them and they were looking towards us to be saved. And yet, we couldn’t save all of them. Some were left behind.”

You feel your heart start to crack again, the beginnings of the break started forming the moment you saw Simon step out of the plane when he returned back to the base.

And now it feels as though a chisel is working its way through your chest, chipping off piece by piece as you listen to Simon morn the loss of little lives. Lives he couldn’t rescue. You know it’s eating him up on the inside, with no respite in sight.

You personally have never been on a mission where the victims were children, and you’re thankful for that, so you can only empathize as much as your experience allows you to. You just have to remind him that he does the best he can, and not everyone can be saved, no matter how much you want to help.

You shift a little so your head is no longer tucked under his chin, and instead rests more on his shoulder. Since you’re so close to him, your lips touch is jaw.

You sigh, “I’m really sorry you went through that, Simon. I know that nothing I can say will change the outcome of what happened, and it doesn’t really matter what I say, but I do want you to know that you and the team did all you could. You did your best with what circumstances you were given.”

You feel him stir under you, and his arms warp tighter around your frame.

“You’re wrong.”

You feel you the pieces of your heart break into smaller and smaller pieces, losing hope that they will ever fit back together.

“You’re wrong to think that your words don’t matter.” Oh. “They actually mean the most to me.” Your chest doesn’t feel like it’s going to concave anymore.

“I really appreciate you; you know that right, Little Swan?” You feel him kiss your forehead and your chest warms at his term of endearment.

“Of course I do, Simon.”

“Ok, good.”

You bring him in for a kiss.

--

Simon found that he didn’t have much in his life, let alone much to be grateful for. Yet over the years, he realized that he grew quite the list.

[biwitchenergyz]

A House of Blood and Fire

Chapter Three: The Warning

<-Previous

"Perhaps we can talk?" You whisper in the quiet of the empty library. The soft, warm light of the metal chandelier casts a gentle orange glow on Aemond's pale face, creating an eerie atmosphere. He keeps his distance since releasing you from his embrace, yet his body is still turned to you, a clear sign of his reluctance to let you go. Silence follows, but you cannot stand to let it linger. As you move to clear your throat, the silence is broken.

"Talk? What could we possibly talk about." Aemond's voice may very well haunt your dreams tonight. His deep, velvety voice sends shivers down your spine. You struggle to discern the emotions he stirs within you – your closest guess would be hatred. "We haven't seen each other in many years. I am sure there are many things we could discuss," you venture, the words hanging in the air. Aemond remains silent momentarily before humming softly as he turns away; his silver-gold hair catches the light. He is walking away from you, and the mere implication that he can treat you with so little respect is infuriating.

"Aemond-"you start, only to be abruptly cut off as he snaps, "Stay away from my brother." His words echo through the extensive library, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on you. In an attempt to lighten the mood, you respond with a snicker, "Which brother, my prince? Or did you forget you had two?" Your attempt at humor sounds more cruel than humorous, and as Aemond remains motionless, an uncomfortable stillness settles between you.

"Aegon always changes when you're here. In the past, when you would ward under our mother, he rarely visited the brothels, and he did not indulge in his cups as much as he does now. Every time you leave, he grows sullen, and his vices become more frequent.” Aemond’s lip curls in disgust, but he continues, “ This past year has been an improvement for him, but with you here…when you leave again, his condition will deteriorate. Save him that pain. Stay away."

A pang of heartache washes over you, opening old wounds that fester and sour. It's undeniable that Aegon fared better when you were with him. You two were thick as thieves, but your actions caused a rift that may never mend. The memory of him in the stands earlier was already tormenting you. When you close your eyes, you can still see his pouty lips whispering your name like a fervent prayer. Aemond is right; you should stay away from Aegon, but know you cannot.

"What of you?" you ask, your voice steady and confident. Aemond's interest is piqued, and though you barely notice, he turns slightly toward you. "Must I avoid you too?" Saageal’s soft meow answers you; standing in the doorway, your beloved companion has managed to escape as he always does, regardless of what castle you reside in. The sleek black cat gracefully prances to Aemond, affectionately rubbing his face against the silent man's calf. After gentle nudges from the large feline, Aemond leans down to tenderly brush Saageal's back, eliciting a chorus of contented purrs that resonates throughout the room. As a kid, Aemond was the only one of his siblings to be comfortable around your pet. Your mother always told you that Saageal was special.

"Just like you, this kitty has two very different parents. A strong alley cat for a father and a cunning Shadowcat mother." Saera would whisper as she combed your silver-gold hair, letting the water from your curls drip onto the luxurious Dornish carpet, not caring if it was ruined. Saageal was undoubtedly the most treasured gift your mother ever gave you, and it filled your heart with warmth to witness your favorite companions also develop a deep affection for him.

Aemond recoils, pulling his hand away as if Saageal is made of flames. "You know what happened that night, as well as I do. You took my sister from me." There is a heavyweight in the air, suffocating any chance of explanation. You know that revealing the truth would only cause more pain, so you choose silence. He would not understand. Any admission of guilt would hurt him; nothing is left to say. Aemond's gaze pleads with you, hoping for honesty and genuine compassion, but all he receives in return is your stony silence. You feel a mix of anger, guilt, and sorrow towards Aemond, a man who was once a friend but is now a reminder of your biggest secret.

"Helaena loved you. She loved you, and you drove her away." He does not say anything else; The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken anguish. Aemond takes one final glance at you before departing and leaving you alone in the deserted library; book still clutched in your hand.

• • • • • • •

You can't help but mull over Aemond’s words, even though it infuriates you. As two castle maids help you prepare for dinner, you find yourself imagining Aemond in chains. Perhaps you would take his tongue if given the chance. You are completely astonished by the audacity he has to blame Helaena’s disappearance on you and claim that you drove her away; it is a stab to your already wounded heart. The two handmaids exchange occasional glances, and finally, one asks with concern, "Are you feeling well, princess?" This maiden is around your age but far more timid and soft-spoken.

"Apologies. I am perfectly well. Remind me of your name?" You speak gently, not to scare the shy maid. She shares one more glance with the older handmaid, who encourages her. "My name is Dyana if it pleases your grace." She is pretty with her full cheeks and bright eyes. You remember her from somewhere. When you realize who she is, you feel sick. Helaena's bedmaid who once followed the princess to and from her chambers.

"Dyana. I remember you now. I appreciate your help today. Both of you, I am grateful for the assistance." The maids thank you for your kindness, but it strikes you as odd to be thanked for simply showing human decency. Despite having lived in Westeros for eight years, the culture of the Summer Isles still profoundly influences your thoughts. In the Isles, the king's household roles are considered a great honor, chosen by priests who seek the guidance of the goddess. A completely different sentiment is shared in Westeros, and serving as a maid seems more like a punishment than a service. It is common for maids to stay in one home only briefly, but Dyana has been in the Red Keep for over six years.

"Her Majesty is overjoyed to have you home, princess. She missed when you wintered in the keep," the elder handmaid, Lenna, remarks as she delicately puts pearl pins in your luscious curls. Memories flood your mind as you recall the precious moments spent in the company of the Queen and her children.

" When we were younger, Aegon and I would count the leaves of the godswood to tell when summer had finally arrived. In the winter, the godswood would lose all its leaves, which is how Aegon knew I would return to the keep. As summer approached, the tree bloomed a beautiful shade of red. Aegon told me that he believed the number of leaves on the tree was the number of days I would be away at Dragonstone. Aemond and Helaena were not fond of our game; it saddened them," you reminisce while the maids attentively listen, sharing in your nostalgia.

The memory resonates with them- a time when Aegon didn't need assistance to his chambers after a night of frivolous partying, an Aegon who didn't make crude comments when deep in his cups, one who didn't weep in his room for hours on end. It was also a memory of when Helaena roamed the halls in silence, radiating warmth.

" If you liked it so much, why did you leave, princess?" Dyana hands you a vibrant garnet lip paint. The maid's job is over, as you prefer to apply your own makeup, but they linger, eager to share in your company. You rise to sit on your bed; you gesture for them to join you, and after a moment of hesitation, they settle in comfortably. Saagael rises from his place on your cushioned chair to join the three of you. At first, Dyana seems afraid but soon begins to stroke the soft feline with a tender touch.

"I arrived in Westeros at the tender age of thirteen, not long after the tragic death of Lady Laena and Aemond's injury. Our journey was prompted by my bastard brother's claim over the Summer Isles and his subsequent usurpation of my throne," You pause, gathering your strength before continuing, "He... inflicted grave harm upon my mother, but Viserys struck a deal with her, offering me asylum on the condition that I become a ward of Princess Rhaenyra's. The Queen argued that it was more fitting for me to be under her care, and after much debate, the king decided that I would spend six months with Princess Rhaenyra and six with the Queen Alicent."

Your mother, weakened by her wounds, never had the opportunity to advocate for you. She would have, if not fearing for your life, vehemently opposed Viserys' plan to treat you as a ward and insisted that you be honored as a princess rather than relegated to the position of a ladies' maid. Her wounds had weakened her; by the time your boat docked in Blackwater Bay, she lacked the strength to stand. It stung her pride to allow her only trueborn child to be treated as a lady-in-waiting, but she could not risk you being handed over to your halfbrother. Dyana and Lenna see the sadness in your eyes. "The only reason I was allowed to remain on Dragonstone is because the king's hand practically banished me from the Red Keep."

"I would be willing to bet you've got more restrictions than even us bedmaids," remarked Lenna, albeit with a touch of amusement. "Not that we don't have plenty of rules ourselves," she quickly added to soften her words. You worry that you might have inadvertently belittled their own struggles.

" I wouldn't dare compare my plight to your own! I have so few rules here, apart from the changing seasons and my mother's final wishes." You worry that you have offended your bedmaids by making your issues seem more significant than theirs, but they are entirely at ease with you.

"Forgive me if I overstep, but what were your mother's last wishes?" Dyana inquired gently as Saagael nestled contentedly in her lap. As you sit among them, surrounded by comfort, you recall how your mother used to recline on the countless cushions in her chambers, attended by lady's maids and noblewomen, all indulging in Saera's captivating voice and flirtatious manners. She would often take you onto her lap, allowing you to revel in the lively atmosphere. You couldn't help but wonder if you possessed even a fraction of her grace or remarkable ability to spark love in others.

"She made me promise her three things," you began, feeling the weight of her final requests. "Firstly, I must never ride a dragon. Secondly, I am forbidden from marrying a Targaryen. And lastly, I can never sit the iron throne in any way. To remain under the king's protection, I mustn't press what little claim I have or use my Targaryen blood for gain."

• • • • • • •

Dinner in the Red Keep is always a lavish affair. The scene's grandeur immediately strikes you as you enter the dining room. The long, intricately painted wooden dining table, a gift from the Tyrells to Queen Alysanne, sits empty, awaiting the night's guests. Servants move about the room, rushing to light candles, arrange the table, and add cushions to the king's seat. They nod to you as they pass, a gesture you return.

"You are early, pretty lady." You sense his presence before even turning around. You would know him in a crowd of thousands; you would know him in another life. Four years apart could not make you forget the way his heartbeat from within his chest.

"Aegon." You do not need to say anything else. Your reunion is swift as he draws you into his embrace, grasping you as if he fears you will slip through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. The scent of wine was long gone, replaced by the soothing aroma of frankincense.

"Four years. It has been four years." Aegon's body shivers. You fear he has begun to sob, but he pulls away to hold your face; his eyes are teary, but he composes himself as he cups your face gently in his hands. His touch, unexpectedly tender, is much unlike the rough hands of a dragon rider." You still stun me after all these years." He whispers as one might when confessing their sins.

"My prince does not realize how beautiful he is." You tell him, your heart filling with the happiness only your old friend can create. He shakes his head, eyes never leaving your own. "All beauty fades in comparison to yours." You know you should take his words with a grain of salt; he has always been a flirt, but you can't contain the flush that heats your cheeks. "My prince is cruel with his jests."

The heavy door creaks open, and the flickering candlelight reveals the shadowy figure of Aemond Targaryen as he descends the stairs with the kind of casual confidence one would typically see in a king. “Ziry vestragon ao emagon umazigho īlva jorrāelagon raqiros, lēkia.” It seems you have found our dear friend, brother. Aegon frowns, his response slow and uncertain, "Skoro… syt ruaragon… ñuhon?" Why..hide…mine? Aemond hums at his brother's failed valyrian. Aegon was never good at paying attention to his maester's, but it looks as if he will try to speak again, so you cut in.

"Jaehossi uēpossi arlȳssī, sepār ȳzaldrīzes se quptenkys Ēngos!” By the old gods and the new, speak the common tongue! Your valyrian accent is like liquid honey, flowing from your mouth with the same silky musical tone as the summer tongue. Saera had a hard time ridding you of your summer accent, finally giving up when your accent had shifted into a unique combination of both your mother tongues. Nevertheless, your high valyrian was as rusty as your summer tongue, and you sometimes mixed words between the three languages you spoke. Aemond humms in agreeance but Aegon is cautious. He watches his brother carefully as he moves closer. Aemond slowly paces around the dining table, his every step drawing nearer until he looms behind you.

" Be glad it is I who found you. Others would spread damning rumors." Although Aemond is not close enough to touch you, you feel his strong presence as if he were right against you. Aegon instinctively clutches your hands tightly. "Tread carefully, Aemond," warns Aegon. His warning goes unheeded. " I have saved her from ruin. The people already speak so ill of her mother. Would you want to feed their distaste simply because you can’t keep your hands off?" You pull from Aegon's grasp and step away from both brothers. In your time as a ward, you learned that there are many moments to stay silent and very few moments where you should speak up.

“Can I not embrace an old friend? When has friendship become a scandal?” Aegon demands of his brother, but his words cause Aemond to smirk, almost as if he knew something that the two of you did not.

"Aemond Targaryen, you have no right to speak as though you fear for my reputation. Was it not you in the library making vile accusations against me?" Aegon's head whips from you to Aemond as he repeats your last words in bewilderment. Aemond scoffs, "Too much time with my half-sister has changed you." He boils your blood. Aemond steps closer to you, and instead of backing down, you match him, bringing the both of you barely an inch from each other. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you missed me."

"Don't be ridiculous, princess."

"Is it so ridiculous to assume you might miss an old friend?"

"We are not old friends," Aemond hisses, his words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. You restrain yourself from asking him about the nature of your relationship. Just as the tension becomes unbearable, the door swings open, and Rhaenyra enters the room, flanked by Jace and Luke. Their sudden appearance shatters the moment's intensity, and you quickly assume the role of lady-in-waiting, bowing respectfully to the princess as she approaches.

“Sister.” Aegon and Aemond both quip in unison, their voices subdued in her presence. The princess acknowledges them with a curt nod before turning her attention to you. Her mere presence seemed to quell the sibling rivalry.

“Have I interrupted something, dear brothers?” In her presence, the boys are like puppies caught fighting for a bone. With one look, she makes her brothers fall silent. Very little has been resolved between the Targaryen siblings since the disappearance of Helaena, but to Rhaenyra’s credit, she had flown to King’s Landing to be with her family. Since then, they had exchanged the occasional letter. She kept the contents of the letters she exchanged with her brothers close to her chest despite your begging to read them. Helaena was dear to all her siblings, and in her absence, they were able to share one thing: a longing for her.

“And is Daeron not joining us?” Rhaenyra questions, but it is Daeron’s timely arrival that quiets her. Daeron holds his mother's hand, helping Queen Alicent down the stairs so she does not stumble over the long fabric of her gown. Not far behind them are Otto and Daemon, accompanied by your dear cousin Rhaenys and her granddaughters.

Without a word to anyone, Alicent takes her seat to the left of the king’s chair. Rhaenyra follows as if pulled to the other woman, sitting on the king's right. You all head towards the nearest chairs, placing you between Aegon and Aemond with the dragon twins in front of you and their respective betrothed beside them. Rhaenys takes the seat opposite the king’s chair, a dignified place for your beloved cousin. Otto and Daemon sit across from each other at the corner of the table beside the queen and the princess.

Viserys is carried in barely a minute after everyone is seated. With his arrival, the dinner finally begins.

[sturnioloskies]

Too Damn Long // C.S. pt3

by 💋Natalie💋

summary: chris hasn't jerked off in six weeks and desperately wants to get off

mentions: @oversturn @flowerxbunnie @mattsd0ll @royasworldsblog

warnings: SMUT / mommy kink / sub(ish)!chris / sharing is caring / minors dni

DISCLAIMER: these stories are fictional :) we do not actually legitimately think matt and chris would share a partner

text - reader

text - chris sturniolo

Word Count: 1717

“So wet,” he breathed out, dragging his middle finger painfully slowly through her slick folds, licking tenderly at her clit. Her body jolted a little bit, fingers tugging at Chris’s soft curls. “Fuck, Mama,” he whispered, peering up at her through his eyelashes, a smirk finding its way onto his smug face. “Almost forgot how wet you get for me.” he hummed. He slipped his finger into her with ease, his knuckle burying in her folds. 

She squirmed underneath him, rocking her hips forward in a pathetic attempt to get him to give her more. Chris obliged and began circling her soft bundle of nerves with his tongue at a steady slow pace. He retracted his finger that had been buried in her heat, her desperate whine nearly making him lose all the self control he had, which wasn’t much to begin with. “What’s the matter, mommy? You didn’t like that?” he purred. He ghosted his lips over her sensitive clit, his gaze never leaving her blissed out face. “I can fix that.”

“Ch-Chris, if you don’t stop t-teasing me,” she warned, a shaky exhale following her words. Her threat was open ended, she didn’t know where she planned on going with it. All she knew was that she didn’t want him to tease her, she wanted control tonight…but she also didn’t want him to stop. 

“Mmm?” Chris hummed, his eyes hooded as he looked up at her, the dark room making them glow with a taunting curiosity. “Just trying to take care of ya, Ma,” he stated, flicking his tongue against her clit once more. He removed his hand from between her legs, a displeased sound coming from the back of her throat. Chris found this rather amusing, chuckling as he pulled her closer to him by her waist. 

He dipped his head lower, letting his tongue flatten against her heat. He moaned, she tasted like heaven. His eyes fluttered closed, messy hair falling in front of his face as he took his time, treasuring the taste of her after having been without it for so long. Her soft whimpers made his dick ache, he pressed his hips against the side of the mattress, hoping to get some relief while he took care of her. One of his hands ran up her thigh, the other holding her lower back, pulling her impossibly closer to his face. “God you get so fucking wet for me,” he huffed out. 

“Chris, please just-”

“Fuck, please sit on my face,” he groaned, his fingers digging into her soft plush thigh. “Please. I’ll beg ya for that, I don’t care,” He rambled. 

She looked down at the boy nestled between her legs, his lips pressing tender kisses to her inner thighs. “Beg me.”

Chris froze. “Wh-What?”

“You said it, sweet boy, not me,” she teased him. “Beg me.”

Chris swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes flickering to look at the beautiful sight in front of him; her pretty pink folds that glimmer with her slick arousal, her entrance that was already a drooling puddle of desire for him. “God, please,” he croaked out. “Look at you, fuck I need you to ruin me. Please…anything you want,” he continued, his hand inching closer and closer to her pelvis. “I’ll be so good, mommy. Please, fuck- please sit on my face,” he looked up into her eyes, his glossing over with pure lust and adoration. “Ride my face, suffocate me, get off on my tongue,” he continued.

“Such a filthy little mind,” she replied. “How often did you think about this, baby?”

Baby. His cock throbbed, straining against his boxers, pre-cum leaking from his flushed pink tip. He groaned at the nickname, one that she so rarely used for him. Sweet boy and pretty boy were her go-to’s, and he wasn’t complaining, but baby was different. It was possessive. It was avaricious. It was selfish. She wanted him. She desired him. 

“Every day,” he confessed. His thumb gently rubbed circles against her clit, watching in awe as her legs spread open, just the tiniest bit more, craving more from him. “Please, mommy. I need it. I just wanna make you feel good.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away. The way she would melt as he circled her clit, the way her thighs would close in, the way she couldn’t even muster up a response. “I can make you feel so good,” he continued, leaning in and pressing a light kiss to her folds, his lips glossy with her juices. “Y’know I can, mama. Y’know I can take such good care of you. I can make your pretty pussy feel so fucking good.”

God he’s such a slut. 

She pulled on his hair, a soft grunt escaping him as he was forced away from the heat between her legs. Chris felt his chin being lifted, his eyes locking with hers. “Get on the fucking bed.”

In record time, Chris scrambled to his feet, crawling onto the bed and seating himself next to her. He nestled his head into the crook of her neck, nipping and sucking softly at the unmarked skin. He’d stop every few seconds, knowing that if he left any trace on her that he’d most likely wake up one night with his dick chopped off, courtesy of Matt. But still…what’s the thrill in not testing the waters a little bit?

She grabbed a fistfull of his hair, tugging on it to pull his head back, being gentle enough to not hurt him. Her eyes flickered down to his crotch, the tent in his boxers was impossible to miss. “Did that get you all riled up again?” she asked, caressing his cheek with her free hand, her thumb running along his rough stubbly jawline. “Aww, do you get off on making me feel good?” she questioned him, clearly already knowing the answer.

“Y-Yes, ma’am,” he admitted. He gently took her hand that stroked his cheek, kissing her knuckles while his eyes fell closed once again. “Fuck, all I care about is making you feel good,” he said between kisses, his lips lingering on her fingers. 

“Do you trust me?” She asked.

“O-Of course, Ma. More than anything.”

She smiled. “Do you know your safeword?”

His pupils dilated. Chris licked his lips as he nodded.

“Nuh uh, say it.”

“B-But-”

He was interrupted by his own raspy voice, a moan eliciting from the back of his throat. Sweet blissful warmth washed over him as her hand palmed him through his boxers. His balls ached, desperate to be drained of his burning desire. He hissed in a sharp inhale, doing everything he could to not lift his hips and grind up into her touch. 

“Say it, Christopher.”

“R-Red,” he obeyed. “It’s r-red. M-My safeword- fuck,” he whimpered. “I-It’s r-r-r-”

“Say it one more time, baby,” she cooed. “I have to make sure you know it.”

“Red,” he whined, his head lulling to the side as he looked over at her, his eyelids hooded just as they had been earlier. “P-Please, I know it. I p-promise-”

“Such a good boy,” she whispered to him, his heart leaping at her praise. His dick throbbed under her touch, and he lifted his hips just a little. “Lay down and take your boxers off for me, okay?” She instructed, rewarding him with a few long drawn out strokes. 

It took a moment to regain clarity, but once she removed her hand and his mind was no longer clouded with pleasure, Chris followed her every instruction. He laid himself back onto the bed, his head resting against the pillows. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, lifting his hips enough to push them down to his thighs, his aching shaft springing free to rest against his stomach. Pre-cum dribbled from his swollen pink tip, his cock twitching in anticipation. What the hell does she have planned? She never makes me relay our safeword. 

He watched her intently as she got off of the bed, he almost growled at the idea of her sweet juices running down her thighs, going to waste. Confusion was clear on his face as she left the room. He tried not to think too much about it, he just sat and waited for her return.

When she came back, a smile crept onto her face. “I half expected to come back and see you touching yourself,” she giggled. 

Chris parted his lips to speak, but no words came out. He licked his lips, watching hungrily as she sauntered back over to the bed, crawling her way to the headboard where Chris waited patiently. “Such a good boy,” she praised him again, seating herself onto his thighs. Chris gasped, his dick throbbing once…twice…three times as he felt her slick folds glide along his length. 

He didn’t even realize he had been blindfolded until he blinked and saw nothing but darkness. Oh fuck me. “Wh-What-”

“You’re gonna be a good little puppy boy for me, right?” she hummed.

Chris choked on his saliva, coughing to try and regain his composure. His dick lurched at her tender words coated in a sick twisted sweetness, his face grew hot with a blush that was sure to remain on his cheeks for the next week. “Y-Yes, mommy. I-I promise,” he whispered. “Please, God I fucking need you,” he panted, his chest rising and falling with heavy uneven breaths.

“Lay back,” she told him, and he did so immediately. 

“You don’t get to cum until I do. Do you understand?”

He nodded his head vigorously, desperate to get her on top of him already. “I understand.” He spoke, not wanting to delay this moment any longer.

“That’s mommy’s good boy,” she hummed lowly, and Chris felt the weight on either side of his head dip, the heat from her thighs making his face grow even more hot with desire. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “Go ahead, pretty boy,” she spoke, granting him access to what he had craved for so long. For what he spent the last ten minutes begging for. But when she said those words to him, he had suddenly realized why she asked him for his safeword. Because as she spoke, the humming in the room didn’t stop.

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

a/n: huh do yall hear that? i wonder what that sound could be

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Little Sun" - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[This is a work of fiction. Slapping your partner is physical abuse.]

SUMMARY: Nikolai left Ravka to gather whatever aid he can get for his home but he comes back because he promised you.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.2k

Apparently, Коля [Kolya] is short for Nikolai and it's the cutest thing I've heard in my life. Also, let me know if you're fine with just Cyrillic or do you want me to include Latinized spelling in the future.

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

Tolya and Tamar have a bet. Not a very dramatic piece of information if one knows a thing or two about the siblings. But it’s the nature of the bet, not its sole existence, that’s so interesting - it’s their longest unresolved wager:

The whole thing started when they noticed Sturmhond saying “Солнышко would love this” to himself. Most of the time it’s a whisper, a stray thought that somehow wriggled free out of his mind at a sight of a sunset, a panorama of a city or a treasure his crew found - if something is worth appreciation, the enigmatic “Солнышко” would surely want to see it. Judging by the softness with which the captain says those words, Tolya and Tamar are disillusioned that “солнышко” is merely a term of endearment for someone close to Sturmhond’s heart. What directly sparked their bet was whether this hopeless love is returned. Tolya, probably biased by the poetry he so eagerly reads, was convinced that they were witnessing a dramatic love story of a princess and a sea dog or something along those lines. Tamar, however, remained more cynical in her judgement - whoever the lady is, she probably doesn’t spare the privateer much thought, if she’s even aware of his existence. Little did they know, the answer awaited them on the other side of the Fold.

The sanctuary is never quiet nor is it ever boring. Although its population doesn’t impress, the determined freedom fighters rarely catch a break, keeping the beehive constantly buzzing. People coming to and fro, the noise of neverending chatter, footsteps echoing through the grand halls and in the middle - you, one responsibility away from completely losing your mind.

You’re doing your rounds, utilising the march between ‘checkpoints’ to talk with Dima, a quite hyperactive Fabrikator, about his new project. It looks promising but you’ve learned to expect nothing less from the boy. He’s tripping over his feet because his gaze is boring into you, looking for any sign of approval or disapproval, and not the tiles in front of him. 

The parchment rustles as you look through the blueprints. “That’s a lot of iron…” you say quietly. Pondering the schematic, you habitually rub your jaw. “If First Army is to use this on the battlefield, it needs to be lighter, so fewer soldiers have to man it. Some parts ought to be substituted with wood. Maybe these two?” You point to fairly small elements on the blueprint, which look to be part of the traction mechanism. Dima conceptualized a machine built on impressively complicated, codependent systems - one change is going to influence all the other parts, which in turn will circle back to the substitute and put a different strain on it.

Dima gasps. "My lady,” his voice is quiet, breathy.

Suddenly, the boy stops but you don’t think much about it. You stand beside him, still eyeing the blueprint in search of ways to save the more scarce resources without endangering the quality of the firearm. 

“I know it’s going to be difficult, Dima,” you forestall his complaint. “We also don’t want this whole thing to shatter after firing the first round but there’s only so much-.”

"My lady, he's back,” he interrupts you.

You look up at Dima with furrowed eyebrows. But the boy doesn’t meet your eye - instead, he’s looking away towards something, or someone, by the entrance to the sanctuary; a haunted glint hiding in his pupils. Confused, you follow his gaze to the door, only to feel your heart stop for a moment:

The blond hair, the elegant kaftan with aiglets and the insufferable, juvenile confidence written on his face.

"Мой Коля,” you say barely above a whisper. The world smudges and blurs as tears fill your eyes.

Not having much care about the stoic image you’re supposed to maintain, you shove the schematics back into Dima’s hands (he nearly drops them) and rush to the ghost who’s been haunting your thoughts for far too long, pushing through people standing in your path.

The phantom becomes flesh and bones only when you feel his arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly to himself. The scent of seaweed and resin lingers on his clothes as though he was born a sea dog and became a prince by sheer coincidence. You hear Nikolai take in a deep breath, his nose buried in your hair. This feels almost too good to be true but good enough to be a cruel joke.

A minute or two passes by and even then it’s difficult for you to lean away to look at his face - Nikolai seems absolutely unwilling at letting you go again anytime soon. Literally and figuratively.

"I was beginning to lose hope," you say quietly. Although his eyes remain just as mischievous as they usually are, a hint of softness hides inside them.

"You know me, солнышко,” he says with a grin on his face. The pet name makes your chest both tighten and burst with passion you have nearly forgotten. After a long period of emptiness and coldness, this scorching devotion is burning you alive. “I promised you I'd come back."

Only when his warm hand reaches to wipe away your tears do you realize you’ve been crying all this time. Even if you tried, there’s no way of stopping this - all of the nights you’d spent worrying and all the days you’d been yearning for him, they finally find their outlet in this longed-for reunion. You’ve imagined his tragic death so many times, you can hardly believe all of that was just an atrocity of your mind.

“Please, stop crying,” Nikolai whispers while relentlessly wiping your face, “or I’m going to cry too and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of our guests.”

A chuckle of both disbelief and overwhelming relief escapes your lips. Even now, at such a heartfelt moment, he can’t help his humour but Saints’ did you miss it.

You sniffle. Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the smooth material of his kaftan. Not a cut or a burn on this textile, as though it beared to witness to combat. "You’ve been gone for so long, I don't know if I should kiss or slap you."

He gives you a playful, questioning look. "Can I choose?"

"Not a chance."

Nikolai gasps when he feels your hand against his face. The strength of the slap was nowhere near to the punch Alina threw at him not too long ago but considering who you are, it aches incomparably more. To a degree, he understands that he might, after all, deserve some of your anger. Aside from the misguided, love-fueled belief you’ve always had in him, you had virtually no reason to think he’s alive, mourning him each time you lay in bed alone - until now.

He doesn’t have a chance to form a response to your outburst as you grab both sides of his face and clash your lips against his. That’s something Nikolai can condone and he does so with a nearly obscene lack of hesitation or reluctance. His arms hold your waist in a tight embrace. The saltwater on his skin tastes like insufferable youth and fabulous adventures. For a moment, you let yourself forget about the pending civil war, thinking only about the warm, soft lips you’ve missed so dearly. Your Коля came back to you, so everything is perfectly fine.

At the same time, Tolya turns to look at his sister with a proud grin. “Told you,” he says nudging her arm but Tamar only scoffs and shakes her head.

[misc-obeyme]

nightbringer lesson 46

I really thought this lesson was gonna drop tomorrow, but here we are! It's fine though... because I LOVED IT 😭😭

Y'all can just leave me alone so I can simp over Mammon in peace, thanks. There's nothing big or important happening in this lesson except that I'm love with Mammon, that's it.

Just to get things out of the way, there was a part at the very beginning where MC asks Simeon if he's okay and he says he is and Lucifer hits us with one of his classic "..." speech bubbles. Luci knows what's up.

He does this whenever he knows something that he's not saying.

Hard Mode was once again the Little Ds and No 1 showed up, but at the very end it was Lucifer saying he came to talk to Simeon... and then it ends like what the??

But other than that, this lesson was a FEAST for Mammon fans, I tell you!!

At first we had a little bit of Lucifer and Levi calling Mammon dumb which always annoys me, but then THEN

They go and help him with the preliminaries of the Geography SF which is hunting for a ticket to the finals like a treasure!

Actually, it was Lucifer, Levi, and Simeon along with Mammon and MC.

It was actually really cute, I loved the brotherly cooperation! And I love the dynamic all these characters have with each other!

AND THEN

There's this part where they go to the frozen north of the Devildom and they have to fight something called a deathjokul and Mammon just straight up takes that thing out. And then they go to the desert and deal with a death worm and while MC helps him out this time, it's still like YEAH.

Basically, I felt like we finally got a little glimpse of the kind of demon Mammon really is. The power he almost never uses. He's ranked second of the bros, so he's no pushover. But he rarely ever uses any of that power until he HAS to. And he was all about protecting MC.

AND THEN AND THEN

Like an absolute cutie he was so nervous about giving his speech at the finals! And you get the option to kiss him to help with his nerves!!! I nearly died. He's so precious and I love him so much.

This right after you kiss him for "luck" so he won't be nervous. I just... he's so... a;skldfjf

Locked lesson shows us Lord Diavolo and Barbatos talking about tea while fighting extremely dangerous kelpies because they're just cool as fuck like that.

Yeah, I liked this lesson hee hee. Don't mind me, it's just Mammon loving hours.

Two last screenshots:

I had to screenshot this because I say "cakewalk" all the time and I was like no wait did you really just say that?? ;ldksfjdlskf

He says this if you choose to say you're a denizen of the Devildom in your heart. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN DIA? Please let me become one for real, I would be so happy...

Anyway, like I said no real important things or big reveals, but boy did I enjoy the Mammon content...