#The great thief indeed

[wyrmghost]

Decided to design my own 24 year old Kay Faraday. I just wanted to draw her being funky

[tiredfox64]

Hello! Sooo I had this idea of a forbidden love story between Bihan and the reader. The reader is a good friend of Liu Kang and was assigned to assist Kaui Liang and Tomas with the Shirai Ryu and becomes friends with them. Despite all that, Bihan was already in love with the reader because she's genuinely a good and innocent person and feels the need to be protective of her while the reader struggles with her feelings because he's now a traitor even though she's attracted to him.

How Could You

Prior notes: Reader: I think I’m in love with Bi-Han. Any thoughts?

Liu Kang: And prayers, you’re going to need them.

Pairing: Bi-Han x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Angst or even none. I don’t know you decide. I’m not your mom, Tyler!

Bi-Han was many things but you would have never imagined he would be a traitor to Earthrealm. It broke your heart to hear the news from Lord Liu Kang. But that feeling was swept away once he gave you more news.

“Not all hope is lost. Kuai Liang and Tomas have creating a new clan to defend Earthrealm. The Shirai Ryu. Your service is needed as I want you to help their clan grow strong. For now there are no threats but we can never be too careful.” He said.

You have your own mission now. A service to Lord Liu Kang, to the Shirai Ryu, and Earthrealm. But you can’t get over that feeling in your chest. That sorrow of Bi-Han being gone.

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Your service was indeed needed. Finding the right initiates was difficult even with the help of Harumi. The only one who was able to bring any hope was Hanzo yet even he needed a lot of work.

Your personality made it easier. Your heart of gold attracted many to come. None wanted to disappoint you. If someone failed and they saw you frown they immediately fixed their errors just to see you smile and cheer them on.

Your need to care for others also helped greatly. If anyone was injured you were quick to patch them up and make sure they were well rested. It quenched people’s worries about being badly hurt and never recovering. If you can care for a little bunny who was only acting hurt for attention, you can take great care of a person.

You also grew closer to Kuai Liang and Tomas. Kuai Liang would have thought this task would be much more difficult even with the help of his wife. Seeing how you brought hundreds to the clan and continue to bring more made you a true gem to him. Tomas especially was grateful of your good deeds. You were useful when training the initiates as you were able to simplify instructions to the others comprehension. If Tomas wasn’t able to make them do what he wanted them to do he would have thrown in the towel way too early.

You even sparked a great relationship with Harumi and Hanzo. Harumi not only appreciated your help when it came to training but housing all the new initiates. You made everyone comfortable and placed them in the rooms they most likely wanted to stay in. You gathered food and helped cook as well. Cooking for hundreds was not an easy task but you were always willing to help and give the healthiest meals. Everyone needed to be in tip top shape. Hanzo, though a rambunctious teenager with great anger, was able to be calmed by your presence. I think he could sense that you have a good heart. You understood his frustration and how he had to survive by being a thief. You reassured him that those days are done and he is in good hands. He will become great and strong, you will make sure of that.

The Shirai Ryu was flourishing. The combined effort of everyone resulted in a fine clan. A clan you felt like could be as great as the Lin Kuei. Things looked up yet you still felt down about Bi-Han’s betrayal. You’re not alone in that and you knew it. You couldn’t let others find out about your feelings. So when the end of the day would come and you were left by yourself, your smile would falter. Tears would prick your eyes. You thought Bi-Han would be good, at least for you.

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Bi-Han felt it was necessary to separate his clan from the binds of Lord Liu Kang. But at what cost.

He has earned them infamy which he could never accept. But he was forced to accept the fact that he lost you. He lost the one person who could warm his frozen heart. Hands that would hold his heart and let the ice melt.

Even when you two met there was a strange spark. You would always go next to him yet keep distance as to not upset him. You would say anything and everything to him when he never asked for him. At first he would tell you to shut up and leave him alone. No matter what you always came back. You would be hiding behind a tree and watching him from a distance just to get a glimpse of him.

You never knew why but Bi-Han made you feel things. Maybe it was his handsome face. Or that deep voice that when he grunted you felt something in your stomach. Or his muscles that seemed so fun to touch. Soon enough he started getting the hint.

You know what they say, opposites attract. Though he always found goodness to be a weakness he saw how it benefited. Whenever you visited the Lin Kuei wanted to impress you and so they worked harder than before. All those times Bi-Han would yell at them they never worked harder. But encouragement from you made them into fighting machines. Who would have thought.

Then you started to get real nice to him. That moment when you tucked that piece of loose hair behind his ear he always remembered to keep a loose strand of hair out. He wanted you to do it over and over again. Have your fingertips lightly graze his face and feel how warm you were against his cold skin. You noticed the effect it had on him and used it to your advantage to be closer to him.

He liked, no, loved when you praised him for his skills. It made him feel superior to everyone, including his brothers. Cause he should be superior to them as he was the grandmaster.

Bi-Han was disgusted by the people in his clan when they would make lewd comments about you. Comments about your chest, your hips, your thighs, your everything. Or when they criticize you for being too nice or too much of a goody two shoes. He didn’t know what came over him but he would end up nearly beating them to death during training. They’d act surprised that their grandmaster would do such a thing, nearly crippling some of his best fighters. But when it comes to you it doesn’t matter. He has to protect your honor. He has to protect you from the filthy eyes of lowlifes. You need his protection.

But your innocence. That was quite a shock to him.

Never had a kiss? Not even on the cheek? Well, he fixed that right up. When you confessed to him that you never gotten a kiss from a man he felt it was his duty to fix that. It’s an honor to be kissed by the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei. Even a kiss on the cheek sent you into a spiral. His lips barely touched you! Yet you reacted as if you two had a five minute make out session. Your mouth was shut tight and you placed your forehead on his arm to help cool you down. Bi-Han couldn’t help it, he had a small smirk on his face which he hid from you. He could only imagine how you would have reacted if he did it on the lips.

But he might never know. Because he messed up by being a traitor. Some days he feels like he did the right thing by gaining the Lin Kuei’s freedom. While others he feels anger because he can’t be near you.

When he heard that you were helping the Shirai Ryu he went mad. Anything in his sight was targeted. Spikes made of ice littered the land. Their jagged and cold form matched how he felt in his heart.

Now who will protect you from the filthy pest of the world. Bi-Han doesn’t know where you are. The Shirai Ryu are too good at hiding and that makes them cowards. Someone could take your innocence and what then. His brothers don’t care about you like Bi-Han cares about you. You’re only safe in his arms and in his sight. You must never be left alone with anybody. Filthy men putting their hands on you, that thought alone makes him furious.

You were his light in a gloomy world. Even if you were friends with Lord Liu Kang he saw you as your own person. A victim to Liu Kang who probably has you wrapped around his fingers. You need to be free just like him. Not following orders like you are now. You must be so depressed without him.

In a way you are as you still struggle to accept the situation. You’re no victim however. Even though Liu Kang said you were done with your task a while ago you still continue out of the kindness of your heart. It’s the right thing to do. But you will continue and mourn what could have been.

If only he kept you in mind when Shang Tsung made that horrible offer. None of this would have happened. This shouldn’t have happened.

You’re only left with sadness. You lost someone you were willing to love and change. You were so close to warming Bi-Han’s heart. You warmed it enough that he feels regret for what he has done. But he can’t turn back now. What’s done is done. Maybe in another timeline he was never a traitor. In another timeline you two are together where he can protect you and love you for who you are.

After notes: If I have not satisfied your needs you can force me to eat British Chinese food. Or you can yell at me either one goes, you can even tell me to redo it all. A little bit of a warning I might be silent for one or two days just cause of classes. Literally have to make a 6-8 minute speech about contraceptives in the span of two days. So either it will be backpocket fics, reblogs (I have faith in the 🍊), or nothing. You’ll know when you’ll know. Adiós!

[ilsole]

Stupidly in Love

A flourish of ribbons fly in the air as a certain jester lays out a nifty little fabric square upon fresh grass, a clearing within a great field, the forest behind, sun in the sky, birds singing their little theatre songs.

Fool gave a synthetic breath in, before turning to his companion.

Misuta glared up at the bright skies above, before he himself turned to Fool, a slight look of confusion coming to his face.

"When you asked if we could go out together, I wasn't expecting... this."

Fool gave the man a cheshire smile.

"Why not? A beautiful day to spend with someone I hold so nice and dear to the heart?"

Misuta sat down in a huff, but Fool had noticed those flushed cheeks immediately.

"... It... is nice today, you're right."

"As I am so often~"

Fool deftly landed on his behind beside Misuta, twirling his baton in his limber hands before settling it down upon the blanket beneath.

Today, there'll be no sun nor moon, just him and the heart stealer beside him.

Oh yes...

"What's in the basket? We can't eat..."

Misuta asks a very promising question, responded to with a curved eye smile.

"Oh, my sweet man~ I'm very glad you asked!"

Fool reaches out, lugging the basket closer before popping the lid up, exposing its treasures like a trove untold.

"Books-?"

"I know how much you love reading, so, I may have sneaked a few books from our little Sweetling~"

A leer was sent the fool's way.

"You stole from them."

'Not unlike how you stole my heart', Fool was so close to saying the words on his very lips, yet he refrained, it was too soon.

"No, no, this fool would never go so low. My... what do you take me for?"

Fool had leant back, a hand to his chest in mock offense, yet he peeked open an eye to view Misuta as silence ringed between them.

Crossed arms met him, a single raised eyebrow with the most unamused expression greeted him in return.

"A thief."

"You hurt me."

"Good."

To anyone else, it'd be rude, but the two shared a coupling laughter.

Misuta would reach into the basket, pulling out the top book.

'The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe'

Misuta hummed in thought, sitting back on a palm as he flipped open the hardcover entertainment, eyes already starting to flitter over the words and read.

Fool picked up his own book, yet he knew he wouldn't be reading, for his attention was taken by another, just as intriguing, thing.

Minutes passed, a comfortable silence settling between the two, one reading, the other attempting.

Fool took in no information, his gaze glancing up to the source of his warmth and love that had spiraled way out of his control.

He wanted to reach out, hold Misuta close to him and never let go, yet there was something holding him back, he wasn't sure...

"Fool...?"

Misuta was looking up at him, why was he so close suddenly? Fool shifted an arm, realizing exactly what was going on.

In his little daydream, he had indeed gotten closer to Misuta, their bodies touching, and Fool's arm had wrapped around Misuta's back, fingers a breath away from his waist.

Fool brought his mismatch up, meeting Misuta's own fuchsia.

"I-I..."

For once, Fool was speechless, his smile drooping at the corners as a flood of nerves was thrust upon him, he's sure he'd be sweating if he could.

He was frozen in place, staring, fake heart pounding with real love, one he felt when around the man in his arms, and the precious Sweetling.

Time stilled as the two stayed in their places, like deer under a scope, they were too nervous to move.

Until Misuta's eyes flicked down.

Fool took that as a sign.

He leant in, lips pressing to Misuta's so softly, he'd have melted, and felt like he would when the pressure was returned soon enough.

Fool's book fell to his lap as he brought a hand up to caress Misuta's face, a small order to stay where he was, yet neither of them wanted to pull away, not even for a second.

They caressed each other, eyes closed as they laid in their shared embrace, an arm tightening around a waist, pulled closer.

Until, they parted, while they had no breath to lose, they still wanted to see one another.

Eyes opened, and their love filled eyes met once more, a deeper understanding now felt within the two.

"Cariad… I… Rwy'n dy garu di…"

Misuta blinked at the foreign words before a soft laugh escaped his lips, and he presses another kiss to Fool's own.

"私も愛しているよ."

A mutual agreement of love, Fool almost couldn't believe it.

He wrapped his other arm around Misuta, hoisting the man upon his awaiting lap, making sure Misuta couldn't escape his grasp now that he was finally his.

"Oh… thank the very Heavens…"

Fool whispered into Misuta's neck, a sigh escaping the man as arms wrapped around his neck.

"Fool…"

"Mm… already with the pet names?"

Misuta rolled his eyes, though his amusement was as clear as the very sky they were under.

"Idiot."

"So mean to me…~ How could you be so rude to your boyfriend~"

They both stilled at that, realization dawning on each of their faces. Boyfriend.

They… are together.

They're in love.

A fluffy hood buried itself into Fool's chest, a heat being felt through Fool's flowy shirt.

"バカ…バカ…バカ…バカ…"

Fool laughed his sweet bird song laugh, his arms bringing Misuta closer to him even still, offering comfort to the flustered man.

"Mm… your stupid."

Stupidly in love.

For @venomous-qwille's gorgeous au Ghost in the Machien that hosts the best characters I've seen written in fiction and have my heart in a death grip <3

[ebodebo]

Chasing The Mask

—red hood is on the hunt for the director and his accomplice, blueprint, gotham's most notourious art theives.

—red hood x art thief "blueprint!" reader

—2.5k+

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A heavy dew settles over the city, along with a light fall of freezing rain. It would almost be calming if you didn't know it was Gotham. One of the most crime-ridden cities in the world. Full of crooks and villains alike. 

Among the haze of rain and sleet, a vigilante sits perched on the top of one of the city's most renowned museums, The Metropolitan. The Red Hood, so he calls himself. While most nights he goes out into the night by himself, to his dismay, tonight he is accompanied by his heroine brother, Nightwing.

The Metropolitan is filled with some of the most exquisite pieces of art made by some highly famed artists, from Van Gogh to Basquiet. It is home to a most priceless collection, indeed. 

Of course, with such valuable pieces, the museum has been the target of numerous theft attempts, and tonight is no exception. 

"You didn't have to come," Red Hood snarkily says as he leans against the red brick encasing the rooftop exit door. 

"Just trynna' help out." The honesty in his voice makes Red Hood roll his eyes. He doesn't necessarily hate Nightwing but he thinks he's too smug for his own good. An entitled, know-it-all. But they are brothers, after all. So, there is a sense of undeniable care there. 

"I've got it taken care of." Red Hood counters, crossing his arms. His tone is almost defensive. Does Nightwing believe he can't catch a simple art thief? Like he's some kind of amateur?

"Is that right?" Nightwing questions, crossing his arms, too.

"Yes." Defensive, again. 

"Because, last time I checked, The Director and Blueprint are still running around Gotham." Nightwing accused. 

"Way to state the obvious, Dick." Red Hood enunciated his name. Dick was used to Hood using his name as a homonym, often. 

"I'm waiting." Hood finally answered his question after the insult. Nightwing let out a light laugh. "For what exactly?" He pushes, uncrossing his arms and walking over to the brick wall Hood was leaning on. 

"An opportunity," Hood stated as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Jesus Christ, Jason." Nightwing pulled his hand up to wipe across his face, which was covered by a simple black domino mask. 

"This is exactly why I didn't want you to come, Dick." Hood sighed deeply. "Talk too much." He finished, uncrossing his arms.

"Sorry, I have-" Nightwing started, but Hood quickly interrupted.

"Wait, shut up," Hood stated, putting his pointer finger in the air.

"You're really starting to piss me off." Nightwing exhales, anger simmering off his body. 

"Dick, I'm serious," Hood says, turning his head to look around the roof. "You hear that?" He questions.

"Hear wha-?"

"Boys." Hood and Nightwing quickly turn to see Blueprint emerging behind the bricked rooftop door they were leaning on. 

"Blueprint," they simultaneously say. "What are you two doing here?" you ask, tilting your head. Nightwing is quick to respond. "We could ask you the same thing."

"A woman never reveals her secrets." You chirp, pointing your finger at both of them. You walk closer to them, smiling. "It's actually good to see you both." 

"Wish we could say the same." Hood finally speaks. His words are gruff and gray. You rapidly turn your head towards him. It felt weird seeing him like this. Not even thirty minutes ago, you were lying in the sanctity of his warm, cozy bed in a post-orgasmic haze. It wasn't like you and him were dating, but you shared a specific intimacy that wasn't common to either of you. 

Normally, you wouldn’t give boys like him the time of day. But, what can you say? He’s a great lay.

You did like him, sure, but this was strictly business. There should be no feelings involved in business.

"Blue?" Hood questioned, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

You shake your head, absolving you of your thoughts. "Would love to stay and chat, boys, but I have some paintings to tend to." Thanks to The Director, you swivel on your heel to head toward the rooftop exit door that's been propped open. 

"That won't be happening today," Nightwing spoke, pulling out his slick-black Escrima Sticks. 

You let out a smug laugh. "And I suppose you two are going to stop me?" You crossed your arms over your chest, tilting your head. 

"That's the plan," Hood said, pulling out his weaponry, which was tucked nicely in his jacket. 

You gave a nice, wide smile before pressing the button on the small metal capsule of a lead-lined smoke grenade that had been concealed in your hand, throwing it in front of them, unleashing a cloud of smoke that covered your being as you made your getaway.

"Bye-bye, batboys." You yelled to them as you sprinted to the ajar exit door and entered the museum's stairwell.

"Fuck." Hood says through coughs as the smoke forces its way deep into his lungs. Even with smoke filling his lungs, he's still quick to spring into action, following you inside the museum, with Nightwing following hot on his trail, coughing as well.

You flew down the steps. Skipping three, even four, steps at of time. When you turned around after you got inside, they weren't even behind you, still coughing and heaving on the smoke. It was a damn shame Jason was so tall because once you scaled the second staircase, you turned to see Jason beginning the second one. Your eyes widened under your mask at how swift he was. You turned and continued sprinting as fast as your legs could go.

You could faintly hear Hood and Nightwing yell at you to stop, but you pursued down the flights downstairs, reaching the last set of stairs. 

You scrambled up as Hood came unexpectedly close and almost grabbed your arm, but you managed to escape his grasp, holding the handle of the main door and slipping inside, slamming it in his face. You breathed a sigh of relief as your legs carried you over to where The Director AKA your dad was standing, holding an authentic Da Vinci portrait. 

"Nice job, Blue." Your dad remarked, referring to the diversion you created with the bats so he could slyly take the precious art without them interfering. Though slamming the door did make an excellent barrier, you had forgotten to arm the system back, so Hood and Nightwing forcefully pushed the door open. 

"You didn't arm the door system back?" Your dad hissed, looking down at you.

"I-shit." You cursed, turning to see Hood and Nightwing standing only a few feet from where you and your dad stood. 

"You really think you're going to get away with this?" Nightwing cockily questions, stretching his arms down with his sticks in each hand. 

The Director let out a deep, guttural laugh, causing you to spin your head to face him. "Don't you see? I already have," he declared, showing the painting in his hand.

"We could still take you out." Hood points out, his eyes on The Director, as his hand slides to reach for a gadget on his signature utility belt. Though, he couldn't feel anything. Did he seriously forget to bring it?

"How are you going to do that, Hood?" The Director challenged. "Don't have that shiny belt on, do you?" He questioned, gesturing to his waist.

Hood glanced at Nightwing. "You forgot your belt?" Nightwing questioned, disbelief coating his voice.

"I could have sworn-" Hood says before shaking the rest of the sentence off. "Whatever. I don't need it." He assures, assuming a fighting position.

It was honestly true. Hood was an incredible fighter. Watching him fight was astonishing. He could move his body in ways you didn't even know were humanly possible. But, you did not want to fight him. You just wanted to appease your father by helping obtain the painting, so you could all get the hell out of there.

"Get them." Your father demanded, looking down at you. You hesitated, looking up at your father. "Did you hear me? Get them." His words came out harsher than the first, showing his agitation. 

"Come on, Blue, we won't go that hard on you." Hood snarkily remarked, and you reached for his belt wrapped around your waist. You felt a weird sense of guilt as you covertly pulled out a Batarang.

"You just gonna stand there or-" Hood starts but is interrupted by the Batarang swinging right near the side of his head. 

"I actually think I'd like to play, Red." You mischievously say, running towards Nightwing, catching him a little off guard, and extending your leg to kick him in the stomach, pushing him back, as he holds his stomach.

"Come on, Red. I won't bite." You say, making your way over to him while Nightwing is still down. You let out a powerful punch, but he's quick to move his head to the side, dodging it. 

"Actually, I think you might." He says, grabbing your extended arm and twisting it so your body turns in the other direction. 

Nightwing makes his way up. "Well, that was easier than expected." He said, wiping his hands together.

"Because I did all of the work." Hood chimed, still with your arm twisted behind your back. Their banter made for a good distraction so that you could reach into the utility belt Jason mistakenly left at your house and grabbed a stun gun. 

You turned quickly, letting go of contact with him, as Hood talked, and pressed the tazer to his forearm. Although clothed, the powerful current still hit his skin, making him drop to the floor, convulsing.

"Wanna have some fun, Grayson?" You sarcastically ask as you step closer to him. He swings his sticks in front of him in a criss-crossed pattern. 

You take his silence as an answer. "I knew you were always the boring one." You sigh, holding up the stun gun.

"That's a bat-belt." Nightwing states casually, looking over at Hood, whose body is hunched over on the ground, still convulsing. 

"Aren't you just a genius? You sneered, carefully watching him. 

"How the hell did you get bat-belt?" Nightwing gruffly questions, eyeing your hand with the stun gun. You narrow your eyes at him. "Like I said before, a woman never reveals her secrets." You quickly move towards him, though he's not so off guard. Not like Hood was. 

However, unlike a taser, a stun gun does not shoot any projectiles, and it has to be held against a body or skin to do any damage. Nightwing was standing a few feet from you so the stun gun would do you no good. 

But, you don't even get a chance to use it because he's quick to knock the stun gun out of your hand and uses his stick to hit across the museum, a ways from any of you. 

"Ah, I get it," Nightwing says, letting his sticks rest on his side. You tilt your head to the side. "Get what?" You shouldn't be indulging him. You should be kicking his ass, but with Hood down, Nightwing wasn't going to be so much work. Plus, in between fighting them, your dad had slipped away, leaving you to do the damage control. 

"You got it from Jason, right? Well, stole." He dragged out the last word. 

"It's not really stealing if he leaves it in my apartment. Is it?" You retort smugly.

"Of course he did." As he finishes his sentence, you realize you two have been talking for a while. Well, in hindsight, in normal conversation, no, but this is supposed to be a fight, not a catch-up. Wait, I haven't heard Hood? Upon this epiphany, you turn to see an empty spot where Hood laid.

"Where-where did he go?" You stutter, deciphering when he could have left and how you didn't hear him.

"Oh, Jason?" Nightwing starts. "He left a while ago—once you turned around, actually." He coolly says this, sliding his sticks back on through the straps on the back of his suit.

This was a diversion, and you were stupid enough to fall for it. Shit, your dad is going to be so pis-

"Got em'," You hear Hood's voice echo off the walls as he walks in with your father, ropes tied around his hands and ankles, painting in hand. He handed him off to Nightwing as he placed the art back in its place.

You and Hood watched as Nightwing dragged him through the exit door you all came in through.

"So, heard you stole from me?" Hood tuts, shifting closer to you. 

"Like I said to your brother, it's not stealing if you leave it in my apartment." You retaliate, your throat drying as he moves closer.

"It's still mine." He's now standing right in front of you. You feel flustered at the proximity but cannot let it show. He would never let you live it down. 

"And I want it back," he casually says, his hands ghosting over your waist, housing the belt in question.

You look straight up at him. "Take it then." You swear you could hear him inhale deeply at your suggestive words, but you don't ask. 

His hands wander to the belt, hanging a little low on you. You swear he holds his fingers on the front part just to tease you, and if that was the goal, fuck, did he succeed. But you wouldn't tell him that. His ego is already huge. His fingers leave the front portion of the belt and continue dragging slowly along the sides until he reaches the back to unclasp it, and pull it off of you.

Once he steps back, you release a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "I would leave now." He suggests, wrapping the belt around his own waist. "You know, before the police get here."

"Okay." You felt like he had just put you under a spell. You are willingly agreeing with him. He can sense this, too, and smirks under his mask at your cooperation. 

"Night, Blue." He says as he turns to the rooftop top exit door, pushing it slightly.

"Goodnight, Red." You say, releasing a sigh of relief once he steps outside the door.

"Oh my God." You say to yourself. "That was-" You pause, taking a deep breath. "Do I like Red Hood?" You question, thinking. "No. Definitely not. It was nothing." You lie to yourself. You had only ever slept with the guy, so it just had to be the undeniable sexual tension between you two. That’s all. Right?

You thank God when you push open the rooftop door that Hood isn't hovering behind the door, listening to you essentially try to deny, and fail, expressing your feelings for him.

It is so nice for Hood that stairwells offer a safe place during storms, but they also offer space for a secret spot, just like the one Hood implemented into the walls of The Metropoliton some years ago.

He used to hide from criminals chasing him through the museum, which happened quite frequently, but now he was using it to simply make sure you left okay. But who knew it would double as a way to hear about your secret love confession? Certainly not him. 

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters in Costco

The title says it all, really.

[Previously: Cosmere characters in Ikea]

1. Wayne & Marasi

Marasi: Wayne...is that another new hat? Wayne: Why yes, dearie. I'm now Egrid Sternsberger, a little old lady who simply must try one of those mini hamburgers! Marasi: ...I think they'll give you multiple samples if you just ask. You don't have to keep switching hats. Wayne: Now, where would be the fun in that?

2. Shallan, Veil, Radiant

Radiant: Now, remember--it requires a majority vote before we make any big impulse purchases. Shallan: This vodka bottle is the size of my torso and will therefore last a long time. Veil: That's a good reason. Radiant: ...I'll just get another cart.

3. Ham and Dockson

Ham: Hey, do you know where Kelsier went off to? For that matter, where's Vin? Dockson: [Points silently upwards, to where Vin & Kelsier crouch on top of those big, metal, Costco warehouse shelves, mistcloaks rippling] Dockson: They like to be high. Ham: W-We're inside! How is there a breeze?!

4. Lift & Wyndle

Lift: Man, that was great! Lift: I stole food from every one of those little stands and nobody caught me! Wyndle: Mistress, like I keep telling you, those stands are giving away the free samples! There was no need to-- Lift: I am the greatest thief of all time!

5. Painter and Yumi

Painter: Please let me get another cart. Yumi: I said we don't need another cart! Painter: Y-You've stacked the cart so high that people are afraid to come within six feet of us! Yumi: Who do you think you're talking to? I can go way higher than this! Painter: Yumi please

6. Adolin & Kaladin

Adolin: Ta-da! What do you think? Kaladin: About your...clothes? Adolin: Yeah! It's all from here! Adolin: I got shorts with lots of pockets, this colorful buttoned shirt, this big hat, these sunglasses--even these cool plastic shoes with holes for airflow AND these socks! Adolin: I am going to revolutionize fashion. Kaladin: ... Adolin: What? Even Wit liked it! Kaladin: I'll be going now. Adolin: Wait! I got a matching outfit for you too! Kaladin come baaaack!

7. Tress & Charlie

Tress: Wow, this one is amazing too! Tress: It's a bit bent and a bit stained, but you can really see that it's been on a journey. Tress: Oooh! This one's an interesting shape! I think it was for strawberries! Charlie: Man, and to think they just give all of these cardboard boxes away for free!

8. Navani & Rushu

Navani: That is...quite the tower of toilet paper. Rushu: How do you suppose they get the top ones down? Some kind of machine, presumably? Do you think it's stacked for space efficiency or is it meant to inspire awe, as well? Rushu: ...Should I take one from the bottom to see what happens? Navani: ...Just grab one of the ones with the bear on it, for now. Rushu: Later then?

9. Rock & Skar

Rock: I love this place! All the food is sized for a while squad! Rock: Look at this! It's a cooked chicken the size of my HEAD! Skar: I found a rack of ribs that would take two men to carry! Rock: Tonight's stew will be a true wonder.

10. Nale and Szeth

Nale: And here is what I wanted to show you--this icon of justice. Szeth: ...A hotdog the size of my forearm? Nale: Yes. Nale: Do you understand what I am trying to teach you? Szeth: Hotdogs are...justice? Nale: This one is. Nale: The owner declared that the price would remain in stone, and that no change would be permitted while he yet lived. Nale: Lack of change? An enduring ruling? A man willing to stake his life on it? Nale: It is a hotdog of justice indeed, Szeth.

[lunastrophe]

Drow Lore 🕷️ Dangerous Merchants

Drow merchants are often not who they seem to be. Some of them are more or less independent information brokers, selling not only goods, but also knowledge to those who can pay for it. Some others secretly work for noble drow houses, occasionally serving as their spies, agents or assassins.

Normally, the drow merchants' first and foremost priority is to ensure the prosperity of their business, but they are often fine with taking an additional assignment now and then - for a fee, of course, or in exchange for other benefits.

In the Icewind Dale series we can meet a great example of a prosperous drow merchant who is much more powerful than he seems to be at first glance - Nym.

🕷️ Polite Drow Merchant - Nym can be found in the hidden svirfneblin village in the Lower Dorn's Deep and after being approached, he greets the player characters in drow language:

"Mallan uss, dis malli usstan tal tanas talthalra. Usstan zha Nym."

This line contains some drow words from canon sources and some others that seem to be distorted - but it can probably be translated as: Honoured one, you honour me with this meeting. I am Nym.

Nym is always exceptionally polite while talking to adventurers, referring to them as "honored customers" - however, soon it becomes clear that under this veneer of politeness and almost-friendliness, there is a cold, cunning and manipulative mind.

🕷️ Profit And Self Above All Else - when the player character points out that it is strange to see a dark elf in a village of deep gnomes, since svirfneblin typically hate drow, Nym replies casually:

"Dire need overcomes simple hatred in periods of duress. I am a businessman. Petty racial differences are irrelevant in my dealings. The deep gnomes have gems. I have goods. It's an excellent relationship. Most profitable."

Since svirfneblin from Lower Dorn's Deep are in deplorable situation, doing business with them - or maybe rather taking advantage of their misfortune and lack of other options - must be "most profitable" indeed.

Nym also tries to take advantage of the visiting adventurers: he buys even quite valuable items cheaply, but his prices are high; he offers special services (enchanting a shield), but demands an outrageous amount of gold as a payment; he is also a slippery negotiator - if you are not careful, you may end up paying him way too much for a simple dagger +2.

But as it turns out, in the past Nym was doing much worse things for a profit.

🕷️ Skilled Thief - the player character can ask Nym about his profession, commenting that being an Underdark merchant sounds like a possibly dangerous and short career. Nym replies calmly that for many, it is, but then states:

"However, I have been in this trade for over four hundred years. I have seen my way into and out of places that no other dark elf has ever seen. You'd be surprised how powerful a single merchant can be."

He is clearly proud of his accomplishments and cannot resist boasting a bit:

"I have seen many things, been many places. The gem mines of Thay aren't quite as frightening as some might lead you to believe. The depths of the Moonsea aren't filled with undead. Oh, and the treasury of Dorn's Deep wasn't very secure even when it was inhabited by the dwarves."

Why is the information about the treasury of Dorn's Deep so important?

🕷️ Nym's Stratagem - sometime after 900 DR, the elves from the fortress known as Hand of the Seldarine and the dwarves from Dorn's Deep formed an alliance and together they created many powerful artifacts. At some point, though, many of those artifacts mysteriously vanished from the treasury and inexplicably fell into the hands of enemies - orcs and goblins. The elves accused the dwarves for secretly supplying the orcs and ultimately, the alliance was severed. The war that came after destroyed both nations.

The vanishing of artifacts was apparently Nym's doing:

"The darthiir [elven] and dwarven artifacts produced by the so-called "Time of Cooperation" were too valuable to resist. Selling the artifacts to the goblinoid armies was the best business decision I ever made. It had so many angles to play. The stupid goblins went bankrupt just to buy artifacts that they couldn't use properly. The dwarves who were threatening to attack some drow outposts were implicated, and the darthiir slit their own throats when they decided to wage war against the goblins and dwarves. Silly elves."

🕷️ Drow Cause - Nym's words about "dwarves threatening to attack some drow outposts" suggest that he was acting not only for his own benefit, but also for the benefit of some local drow community - likely Rilauven, drow city located below the caverns of Lower Dorn's Deep.

Was Nym supported, or maybe even employed and sponsored by Rilauvenian drow? Or was he acting independently - and making the entire drow city owing him a debt was only a side consequence of his plan?

It is not really known - but when we meet Nym several decades later during the events of Icewind Dale II, he seems to be on good terms with Rilauvenian leaders like Malavon Despana and he even works for them...

Also, in one of the books that can be found in game, we can find this note:

"It is rumored that a dark elf by the name of 'Nym' was the individual truly responsible for the fall of the Hand. Through magical means he entered the vaults of the dwarves, stole their artifacts, and sold them to the goblinoid armies. He then sat back and watched as the elves and dwarves destroyed their alliance with accusations of guilt.

It is speculated that Nym did this to remove a significant threat to the drow population in the area of the Hand. With the elves and dwarves vanquished, the drow were free to claim their territory as their own with no consequence..."

🕷️ So, to sum things up - beware of the Underdark drow merchants... especially the ones who somehow manage to stay in this dangerous business for centuries.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Fuck it. Let's get CRAZY with the alternative Rusted Knights!

Blake: It's the Repentant Thief!

Yang: Hey, thanks for the save back there. It's crazy to see you in the flesh.

The Repetant Thief: Well, I owe you, at least one. *She removes her helmet*

Emerald: I uh ... I've been waiting a LONG Time. I ... You saved me from Salem, so ... I owed it to you, and Oscar, and Ren.

Emerald: It's ... It's almost Funny. Everytime I do something good I get punished.

Emerald: You are real, yeah? I'm- I'm not being punished again? My semblance isn't acting up?

*Group Hug*

Ruby: Yeah we're real!

Weiss: Wait, what did you mean is your semblance acting up again?

Emerald: Well ... Hold still.

Emerald focuses on the middle ground, the figures of RWBY appear in front of them.

Blake: Hello! I'm Blake! How're you holding up Emerald?

Emerald: Not Great!

Yang: Well keep your chin up, and things'll work out in the end!

Ruby: Yep! And if there's anything you need us to do, we'll do out best to help!

Weiss: Indeed! You are our friend and we care very much for you!

Emerald: Thank you! You can go away now!

The False RWBY dissipates.

RWBY: *Shock and unnerved disgust*

Emerald: I'd appreciate it if you didn't judge me, because I've been alone for a very, VERY long time.

[searchingforserendipity25]

An old draft resurrected for @feanorianweek! Inspired by last year's Back to Middle Earth bingo board option - gift giving. Some humor and some angst. In which Maedhros is a defiant prisoner, but not the most infuriating of his siblings.

-

Gift-Giving

In Valinor, there had been certain expectations from musicians - the minstrels, those few that devoted themselves fully to the Song. 

Every noble house ought to have one among their members, and the noblest the best; Maglor had been very obliging in that regard. Maglor had been the example to follow, the prototype, the trend-setter.

Maglor, Maedhros had thought even then, had chosen the Song as much as it had chosen him. For its own sake; and also so that he did not have to choose anything else less great and mighty. 

Minstrels were for rites, time-keeping, celebration and beauty. Minstrels were for the blessing of the fields. Minstrels were an honour to their kin, and an adornment. 

Beleriand changed things. In Beleriand, Song was power, and Songs of Power needful weapons used beyond the value of their beauty alone.

Unfortunately, kingship was also power, and not one that could lightly be set aside. Fortunately, Macalaurë had always been very able at managing a number of tasks, as long as he could accomplish them in the most impressive and aggravating performance possible. 

For thirty years he ruled singly, second-born of a great house in exile, making Siege against one of the Powers, he that first Sang discord into the very matter and memory and making of the world. 

Morgoth was besieged. Maitimo might be prisoner, hostage, slave and victim, but there was some satisfaction in knowing the manner of his binding.

Treachery there had been, and foolish anguish - but he would not have chosen other. He could not have chosen otherwise; and at least this time, when he suffered the consequences of one of his brother’s irreverence, there was a bitter pleasure in the paying of it.

No gift could be sweeter to him than the memory of the song borne over the great dark stillness of Thangorodrim. The voice soaring to the heights, saying, 

HAIL DECEIVER, SACKER AND THIEF, FROM ANOTHER MURDERER: HOW IS IT TO BE LOATHED AND REGRETTED BY ILÚVITAR, THY VERY OWN KING AND FATHER - 

“Alas for what you have wrought, fell lord,” called Maitimo Nelyafinwë. The laughter wound the chains more treacherously still on themselves, but it was worth it, and frankly necessary to defiance to laugh sometimes. “Once he is started, the true challenge is to close his mouth.” 

AND KNOW THOU HAST BEEN MADE TO FAIL AND FAIL AND FAIL EVER AND EVER UNTO THE VICTORY OF THE HEAVENS AND INDEED THE FORCE OF ELVES IN WRATH AGAINST THEE -

Morgoth roared, and shock the mountain, and thundered at the skies. 

There was a pause. The echo rang, and then the silence; it set, and settled. Morgoth’s immensity blotted out the stars, and grew to match his complacency. 

Maitimo waited. His brother held passionately to a theory, regarding the counting of time in silence as a mark authorship, from which every composed could be identified with enough familiarity, and his thesis presentation had gone something like this:

Somewhere in the far, far distance, there was the familiar sound of a harp being strummed in a uniquely obnoxious fashion. 

GIVE ME BACK MY BROTHER THOU AVARICIOUS CUR-FACED DULL-WITTED  CRAVEN -

For a moment, a terrible abyss of an instant, the full force of Morgoth's loathing filled the air in a silence made of many dimensions and many strains of incredulous rage.

“You heard him,” Maitimo said into it. Teeth-bared, words round and smiling in his mouth. “Cur.” 

The chains were really quite dreadful, where they bit into flesh to lash the bones; but he wouldn't have said they weren't worth it, for the look on Morgoth's face just then.

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Chaos Creator's Chapter 269

TL;DR - Cale entrusts the empire stuff to Clopeh. Sui's group misunderstands that CJG has been sacrificed because of the mysterious red patterns on the floor.

Crazy Clopeh In the past, the author kept hinting that the Aipotu arc would be focused on the growth of Raon and Lock, but I'm starting to believe that this was Clopeh's growth arc too. 😂 Or more like Cale's growth arc in finally accepting Clopeh's craziness. 🤣🤣🤣

Due to the sudden emergency, Cale decided to entrust all the empire business (the pope and the temple, Emperor Alt, and King Dennis) to Clopeh. Clopeh's role in the Indomitable Alliance in the past gave Cale confidence that Clopeh was more than capable of handling all the political matters of the empire.

And this was the best news for Clopeh who had been working hard to gain Cale's trust. It meant that Cale trusted him more than before. Of course, this also added to his delusions of being Cale's shadow... 🤣🤣🤣 He believed that someone like Cale should deal with gods while a shadow like him would deal with all the political stuff.

Cale still felt anxious over Clopeh's growing craziness, but decided to ignore it for now. Yeah, Cale... Just how many times are you going to "ignore it for now." The situation always worsens when you do that. 😂

But it was funny that Cale was more worried about the empire people who would deal with Clopeh rather than be worried about Clopeh himself. 😂Clopeh is truly a chaos creator! 🤣🤣🤣

The Three Soos and One Choi Han Sui and CJG are back! Sui called Cale and told him to come to where he was immediately, so Cale took Raon, CH, and CJS with him to the jungle where Sui's group was. They left Raon to Mila who fed him delicious fruit while the four walked towards the ruined temple of the God of Chaos.

And we had our funny Soos moment with CH even joining in on teasing Cale. 😂 The group were walking through the jungle via a narrow path, with Sui in front and Cale, CJS, and CH following behind in order.

Sui: *walks slowly* Cale: *also forced to walk slowly because Sui was in front of him* (Why is he slow?) CJS who was behind Cale: *looks at Cale* Aren't you too slow? Cale: Why? (Why are you looking at me like that?) CJS to Cale: Are you okay? Sui: *looks at Cale up and down* You're so weak. Cale: *gets angry and uses Wind AP* Sui: At my pace, we'll arrive there in 5 minutes. Cale: *stops using Wind AP* Sui: Let's walk as if we're going on a walk. Cale-ah, it's good for your health if you walk yourself. CJS: Pfft. CH: That is correct. Sui: As expected, Han-ah knows it too. Cale: ...

CJG Was Sacrificed?! This was another funny moment because of a big misunderstanding. Everyone thought that CJG got sacrificed in some ritual because there seemed to be traces of some magic circle written in CJG's blood, and the temple's altar had a cut-off arm of CJG.

Zopf, the Past Dragon, was shaken upon seeing all that, having confirmed that the arm and the blood belonged to CJG. But he was also confused because the "magic circle" did not seem like a magic circle. CJS and Sui confirmed that the writings in the "magic circle" was not the language in the god realm, which left Cale two options: It was either the language of the divine realm or the demon realm.

So Cale contacted Cotton to ask about it. Cotton verified that the "magic circle" writings was indeed in the demon language. But clarified that it was not a "magic circle." It was actually just a letter...

Cotton: Uh. It's a letter. I'll read it first. Cotton: I will take the owner of this arm with me. Do not worry for I will save his life. Since the arm has already been cut off, I will leave it behind. That's the only way to find traces, right? If you are worried, come see me-... Huh? Cotton: *embarrassed* Uh... um... Well... ah... Cotton: If you are worried, come see me. -Great Thief of the Night. Cale: (Great Thief of the Night?) *frowns* Cotton: Uh, why is my boss's alias there? Hahahaha! Zopf: No way... How could they leave such a letter behind using CJG's blood? You crazy demon bastards! I didn't know that, so I thought it was some magic circle ritual! Cotton: Well, there is a postscript... Cotton: I wanted to leave a message, but I did not have any ink, so I used the blood that flowed from the already cut arm. I did not cut off the arm. Do not worry. Cotton: Hahaha, my boss is a very unique person. Hahaha! Cale: Sigh.

It looks like the illegitimate daughter of the former Demon King is also someone chaotic. 😆 Great Thief of the Night? 🤣 And poor Zopf. He was so worried about his friend, CJG, only to find out that it was just a misunderstanding. 😂

Ending Remarks So... we still did not meet CJG? And Cale added another item to his agenda: visit the Demon Realm to find CJG. Author-nim, the scale has gotten so big! When will you let Cale get his slacker life?!

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.7

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

30th December Barcelona, Spain

There was no trace of snow in the foreseeable time and Cassandra's already gloomy mood only dropped more as she averted her eyes from the grey buildings outside.

If it was cold, it should at least snow, she believed. But she knew something like this was impossible for a city right at the mediterranean sea. The only thing they got there was humidity and gusty winds.

It was the day before New Year's eve. The second-last day of the year. One day and eleven hours more and it'd be the next year already.

It was a strange feeling considering to her it didn't feel like a year had passed already. The only evidence it did being the coldness outside that had suddenly picked up in the last two weeks. 

She returned to study a patient's file. Today would be another double-shift. Could be worse, at least she wasn't working the next two days.

After asking one of the nurses to give the patient 150mg codeine, she finished her round right on time for her lunch break. Already spotting Stella and one of the assistent surgeons and Stella's on-off-crush, Julio, sitting at a table in the far back of the cafeteria and bickering over something as usual. And Cassandra gave them a quick wave, signalising she'd seen and would join them, before going to pick her lunch. Her stomach was already rumbling when a different kind of buzzing caught her attention then. It was the phone in her pocket.

doc (6:30am): happy birthday, wherever you are :)

cool guy (1:12pm): you remembered! cool guy (1:12pm): thanks :P

Her lips instinctively curled up. It was Taehyung. 

It had been a week since they'd last spoken, which wasn't surprising considering he had a different kind of busy life.

At least he took time to ressurface at all. Kind of like a penpal, where she had to wait for his letter to arrive and respond before having to wait yet again. Especially since they were indeed one-sided penpals with him sending her postcards from all the places he visited.

She was used to it, but that didn't mean she wasn't worrying a little whenever a longer period of time passed with no trace of him. Unpredictable things could always occur, despite him and his friends being unmatched in what they did.

doc (1:14pm): ofc i did :O

After typing in her quick reply, she shoved it back into her pocket when it started buzzing again. Perplexed by the unexpected incoming call, she hesitated for a moment before eventually accepting it.

"Hey." 

She inhaled with a smile. Something about his smooth voice greeting her so cheerfully always making her a little weak.

"Hey, your timing's as great as ever," she giggled when the line moved and she took a step forward. Hearing his surprised 'Oh?'.

"To what do I owe the honour of this call?"

Taehyung could hear the smirk all the way through the line. Laughing under his breath.

"What do you mean? It's my birthday after all. So I deserve actually hearing your birthday wishes."

She bit back a laugh, having missed his silliness. "Happy birthday, cool guy. Was that all you called for?"

"Almost," he said, his tone turning gentle then,"I also wanted to hear how you were doing."

"Well, I.." she began but paused. 'Fine' was her first instinct, however, she concluded he'd most likely see through her blatant lie, because in all honestly she wasn't doing fine at all. So she settled for a more vague response. "..I'm a little tired. But otherwise everything's fine. How's it there?" She knew he'd never tell her where exactly in the world he was currently at, so she didn't even attempted to find out.

"It's.. yeah, it's great. We're working on something.." His voice faded then and Cassandra was about to carry the conversation to the turn of the year, when he spoke up again. His concerned tone taking her aback."You sure everything's fine?"

She swallowed. No matter how hard she tried, she'd always be an open book to him it seemed. Even when he was miles away. 

No, she thought, nothing's fine. I almost lost a patient because of bureaucracy, almost messed up a chest tube on another one, haven't properly slept in days, I'm gonna spend the turn of the year all alone and I'm an idiot because I miss you. 

She couldn't bring herself to let any of these words slip from her lips though. She didn't feel like making him feel bad and pity her when he was who-knew-where in the world right now and couldn't do anything for her misery anyway. Besides, she also didn't want to embarrass herself.

"Yeah, it's just, you know, work. It's not always that easy." This wasn't even a lie. But she felt he still wasn't completely sold on it. 

"Hm, you sure that's all?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because work's always tough for you but you sound more distressed than usual."

She froze. Did she? She didn't even notice anymore, but others obviously did. Or at least, Taehyung did. So with a sigh she gave in, elaborating more after all. "It does take a toll on me. And tomorrow's New Year's eve, which I can't celebrate with my family and I have no plans, which could be regarded as sad and pitiful by some, but hey! At least I'm not working like some colleagues, so can't complain." Her casual laugh to gloss over her gloominess probably sounded forced. And she licked over her dry lips. "I just didn't want to dump everything on you.. I know you're busy with your own work." Another small giggle getting automatically added at the last words, another poor attempt to save her pride. "Anyway, it's also a shame you can't see your birthday gift, you know? It's pretty mad after all."

"A mad gift, huh?" He played along with her sudden change of topics. Although he could sense there was more to her previous words. "And what gift?"

The line moved and it was almost her turn at the registry, "Never heard of a surprise? You've got to wait until coming here again."

Taehyung scoffed playfully on the other line. "Oh, that's how it is?"

"Of course."

"Alright. I'll hurry up then, I guess."

»»»

31st December

Cassandra usually celebrated this day by playing cards and drinking with her family. Since it wasn't possible this year, she settled for eating a whole pizza by herself and watching one of her comfort shows. The perfect plan really.

It was past 10pm on New Year's Eve now and she was in the middle of her little rewatch party, when the sound of the door bell startled her and she paused the episode. 

Cassandra didn't expect seeing anyone that night. Especially since there were barely any hours left till the turn of the year.

A knock at the front door followed then, causing her to tense up even more. She wasn't a particularly fearful or easily scared person. However, due to the late hour and randomness her first instinct was to switch off all lights and remain quiet. Only when an annoyed and whiny: "Cas, open up already! It's cold!" was heard from behind the entrance door, her tense muscles finally relaxed.

The last person she had expected seeing standing in front of her door was Taehyung and yet, there he was. Doing just that with furrowed brows and an amused laugh.

"Were you hiding from me?"

"Wh.. no. No. Well, yeah, but I didn't know it was you," she defended herself with a small pout.

His cheeks were slightly flushed and raven hair tousled due to the harsh wind outside, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his dark brown coat. He looked quite cuddly and inviting.

She instantly shook that thought away, though. Eyeing him suspiciously when also spotting the bare neck and open collar.

"And since when do you feel cold?" she sarcastically snorted then. A knowing smirk on her lips as she let him enter. Meeting his wide boyish grin.

"Maybe I fibbed a little there."

She laughed under her breath, shaking her head. "What are you even doing here? Thought you were working on a job."

"Well.." He let out an awkward laugh when a shiver crept up his skin. He might not freeze, but that didn't mean he wouldn't feel the coldness at all. Especially with the temperature difference inside there. "I don't know actually."

She took a step back to narrow her eyes at the taller man. A puzzled smile tucking on her lips as she tilted her head. "So did you just randomly come here all the way from wherevever you were?"

"It's just.." It sounded too silly, thinking about it now, but frankly, he simply had a feeling of her needing him. And he realised how completely irrational and odd it must sound if he said that out loud. So he stick with another excuse. "We were done with the job earlier than expected and wanted to take a little break, so.. might as well come to collect my birthday gift."

Cassandra blinked. Somehow she wasn't quite buying it. He never struck her as a guy who'd travel countries just for a simple gift. Especially since he should know it wasn't anything of value compared to the actual treasures they were hunting.

"Hope you don't have too high expectations of that gift, though," she mumbled with a coy smile as he followed her further inside, "Might get disappointed otherwise."

Taehyung shrugged with a cheerful, almost childlike grin. "A gift is a gift. I take what I get."

He observed her crunching down at other side of the living room to pick up a rather big square, wrapped in fancy paper, from her desk. She felt her fingers trembling all of a sudden, not having expected to see him this time around after all, so she hadn't had any time to mentally prepare to get embarrassed yet. And the few steps she walked back to him clearly weren't enough.

"It's nothing special, really. I mean, what do you get someone who can literally get anything he wants? But I hope it's not too terrible."

Cautiously, he accepted the object from her with a scowl. Her intention was to lower his expectations but all it did was hightening his curiosity, especially since he didn't have any clue what it could be. He'd appreciate it either way though, whatever it was.

"Happy belated birthday, Tae."

He tried not to rip the paper when opening it, but as it accidentally did, he gave up midway and just tore it off making Cassandra laugh amused at his childish eagerness. Only for her to bite down on her bottom lip and avoid his glance when he finally unwrapped it.

His expression softened, brown eyes grew round in astonishment.

"A painting." He looked up at her in awe. "You drew this?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, still not daring meeting his eyes. "You said you liked my drawings and.. you also said you'd like having one of yourself like, and I quote, 'one of these sleazy rich guys'," she added air-quotations for the dramatic effect. Her hands dropping to the side then. "I know considering you travel around from hideout to hideout, it's not practical, but.. I don't know, maybe if one day you do get that house of your own, you'll find some space for it." 

He hummed, his eyes preoccupied with the painting in his hands.

The detailed strokes, the soft-coloured paint. He wondered when she'd even found time to create it in between of sleeping and working. What amazed him the most, however, was the expression on his painted face. The look in his eyes. It tucked on something in his heart, the way she captured this brief moment of tranquility in them. He wondered if anyone else had ever noticed this kind of expression on him when not even he himself had.

That painting was how her eyes saw him. The way she saw him. And it was beautiful. It touched him how someone could see him like this. So.. human. Not a thief. Not a gunman. Just him.

He swallowed. His silent gaze wandered back to her then, catching her impatiently peeking at him as he was taking quite some time to silently gape at the present, increasing her insecurity about it.

He didn't understand why she was belittling herself so much when she didn't have to make him a gift in the first place.

"Thank you, Cassandra," he breathed eventually. His voice unintentionally cracked at the end as it came out hoarser than expected. She had almost missed it, so quiet that it was. But when she realised, her eyes slowly met his already smiling ones and all the nervousness she had felt before was suddenly swept away when seeing the sincerity in his face. He meant it.

She gave him a small nod in acknowledgment.

"Say.." he said then, taking another glance of the painting in his hands, "You said no plans tonight, right?"

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"Should you not avoid such crowded spaces?" Cassandra yelled over the loud background chatter of half-drunks. One of them bumping into her shoulder, his red glittery party hat slipping from his head and almost poking her cheek.

Spending the final hour of the year at platja del Somorrostro, one of Barcelona's busiest beaches, surrounded by a New Year's crowd of strangers brimming the entire area wasn't where she had expected to find herself at. 

And all because of Taehyung.

His dark waves peeked out from between a couple of people in front of her, him clearly not hearing her nor noticing her absence beside him and she squeezed herself through to reach for his sleeve not to lose sight of him again. He paused when feeling the tug and looked over his shoulder, catching Cassandra puffing out her cheeks. "Hey, wait for me!" she pouted and he laughed.

"Sorry, did you say anything?"

"Yeah, I asked if you shouldn't be avoiding such crowds."

They pushed through the mess and Taehyung made space for her to follow behind him as he navigated them to a low pavement wall, seperating the sand from the street.

They reached the uplifted sea promenade soon and he climbed onto it when spotting a gap between some chatty teenagers. Holding his hand out for her which she accepted, letting him pull her up.

"More the opposite," he clarified then as he let his eyes wander over the sea of funny party hats, chaplets and woolen beanies. He could bearly spot where the actual sea began and where the crowd ended. His eyes then returned to her with a cheeky grin. "The more people, the easier it is to get lost in the shuffle."

Cassandra could only smirk at this. "I assume that's your go-to tactic at heists as well?"

"Hm, maybe. Who knows," he reciprocated her smirk. Knowing exactly how riled up it'd get her whenever he stayed vague and not providing more info. He simply enjoyed teasing her too much to ever let go of it, besides the obvious benefits of her not knowing any details for her own safety.

To be fair, this New Year's Eve was also quite different from what he'd originally planned for it to look like. The original plan foresaw him and the guys to sneak into a yacht party at the coast of Alexandria - something he wouldn't tell her though.

Partially because he didn't want her to ask why he was missing it out, partially because he couldn't let her know any details.

Furthermore, he'd never been a man of big parties and celebrations anyway, everything always seeming shallow and blown-out-of-proportion to him. And that sense only intensified when sneaking into some fancy party to steal idiots' jewelery and money. So in a way, he also did it for himself and not only for her. Besides, if he acknowledged the influence she had on him to just ditch anything at the mere feeling of her needing him, he'd need to apologise to Jimin for all the times Taehyung had scolded him for doing the same exact thing for Arabella.

"I hope we can see the fireworks from here."

Her words interrupted his train of thoughts and he watched her tiptoeing beside him before setting her heels back down and taking a sip from the mojito bottle she'd bought at a convenience store earlier. Cheeks already rosy from the alcohol in her system due to being a light-weight.

He took a swing from his own bottle of red wine. "Don't worry, we got a clear sight up here."

Cassandra hummed, getting tired of standing she decided to sit down on the cold stone next to a woman with a blue wig. Wrapping her arms tightly around her angled legs and bringing them close to her body. The midnight air making her shiver under her coat.

"Oh!" she exclaimed then, holding her phone up.

He narrowed his eyes at the dim display. The clock said six more minutes to midnight. He glanced at his wrist then, making sure his watch said the same. It was precise after all, something necessary when doing a coup. And indeed, six more minutes.

Explained why people around them became more jittery.

"Do you have any New Year's resolution?"

He mused for a moment over her question. Flashing her a grin then. "Not getting caught. You?"

The red-head lightly laughed at this before shaking her head. "No, don't think I got any."

"Huh, didn't expect that," he blurted out and felt her inquiring eyes on him.

"Yeah? Why not?"

He shrugged. For a moment he contemplated how to phrase his disbelief, licking his lips shortly which had become dry in the low temperature. "You striked me like the kind of person who'd have a whole list of resolutions to be honest. That's all."

Cassandra blinked, taken aback as she indeed used to always have some kind of resolutions while growing up and this might've been the first time she didn't. Perhaps she was more obvious than she liked to admit after all. A dry laugh left her lips then.

"Well, I used to -"

"Knew it," he grinned triumphatically and took another sip from his drink, "What happened?"

"Nothing. I just realised none of my wishes or resolutions ever came true. So I stopped."

Four more minutes.

"But if you would have to do any, what would it be?"

She took a moment to genuinely think about it and hummed while doing so. Only obvious ones popping up in her mind. "I guess.. to successfully complete this training year, not lose my mind in the hospital and.." Her eyes lowered and she paused, smiling to herself in a sheepish manner. "The last one is a secret."

His brows arched, but he didn't press considering it must be private.

He looked down at his watch again. 

Two minutes.

Somewhere in the distance behind them someone had already started blaring firecrackers. The loud cracking roaring over the drunk slurring, yells and chatter of the people scattered around them on the sea promenade. As far as the eye could see, streets were completely filled with people choosing spending the turn of the year outside among strangers in the cold. Most didn't seem to mind, Cassandra being the only one shivering.

And Taehyung noticed, scooting closer to her in a poor attempt to shield her body from the wind which had pushed its way through after all.

It was quite unfair, she pouted to herself when leaning into Taehyung's shoulder, how she, with her onion-layers of clothes, thick coat, scarf and beanie, was still freezing while he was out there with nothing but a sweater and a thin coat doing just fine.

"Thirty seconds," he announced when looking at his watch again.

Cassandra tilted her head to take a glance as well. "Twenty."

He sensed her warm breath brushing over his exposed skin. The pink-tinted tip of her nose and cheeks contrasting her pale skin which was faintly glowing under the yellowish streetlamp's light further away.

Everyone around them began counting down at the top of their lungs then.

"Ten!"

"Nine!"

"Eight!"

Taehyung searched her eyes, seeing she was already smiling at him. And they held each other's gaze while continuing counting down with the crowd.

"Seven!"

"Six!"

Their smiles widened.

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

Fireworks errupted from the main square in the distance, splashes of colorful lights painting the black sky and illuminating the crowd with loud popping sound of explosives. The hooting party horns and cheers from the crowd jarred into a deafening wave and everyone fell into each other's arms.

And yet, despite the commotion by the boisterous mass of people, all Cassandra could see was the curve of Taehyung's bright smile. Losing herself in the glittering sparkles in his irises. Just for that moment, it felt as if it was only the two of them there.

"Happy New Year, Cassandra"

"Happy New Year, Taehyung."

They laughed lightly, breaking eye-contact and instead decided to watch the rest of the elaborate fireworks show and its golden rain when some odd - to him at least - customs caught his attention then. "Why're so many people kissing or eating grapes?"

Cassandra tore her eyes from the colourful shapes to briefly glance at him, redirecting them to the night sky again. "New year's traditions. People eat twelve grapes for each month for good luck. Or kiss to save themselves from a year of loneliness."

He seemed intrigued by this. "Are there more?"

"Not sure, I don't believe in this superstitions."

He huffed a laugh at her bolt claim. "Says the girl who bought a lucky charm to a heist with her."

Gasping, she averted her eyes from the fireworks again only to face his shit-eating grin. "T-that's something different. It was my emotional support!"

Taehyung only arched a brow, continuing giving her a doubtful look. Much to her annoyance. "No, I mean it. I don't believe in these New Year's traditions. Or at least I try not to but, who knows.." A rueful smile ghosting over her lips. ".. maybe that's why none of my New Year's wishes ever comes true."

Taehyung looked at her indeciphable expression before looking back at the firework.

"What about you?" She assumed to already know his answer but she was still prying to know.

"I'm superstitious. A little bit at least."

She smiled softly, somehow not being surprised at all. "Oh yeah?"

"I need to, sometimes it's a matter of luck. Especially in what we do." He threw his head back in gleeful joy as another set of fireworks was fired. A cheeky smirk gracing his lips then. "And don't they say luck and timing is everything you need?"

She agreed. Even in medicine where everything was scientific and empirist, they still often had to rely on luck and hope. When it came to a therapy or medication to work or when the surgeons needed to wear their own lucky charms to boost their confidence and succeed in a difficult surgery. But it also depended heavily on the patients themselves, if they believed in it or not.

She laughed under her breath. It was a laugh of self-pity as she felt she neither had luck nor timing. At least not in the way she wanted to. And she emptied her bottle in a swing. A feeling of fizziness and light-headness overtaking her mind.

"You know what?" she blurted out after a short while and giggled highly bemused, "We should kiss for good luck!"

Usually she'd know despite the bubbling feelings for her criminal friend, which she still tried convincing herself didn't exist, that kissing him while being tipsy probably wasn't a good start for anything. But any rationality was clearly last seen 0.5l of mojito mix prior, the very few enzymes she apparently had to break down alcohol, already saturated awhile ago. So her intoxicated mind simply found that sudden idea marvelous and entertaining. She'd never get a proper kiss from him anyway - or any guy in the forseeable future with her work schedules - might as well make him her platonic and amicable New Year's kiss in a desperate attempt for any kind of good luck for that upcoming year.

Taehyung, however, only chuckled when seeing her flushed red cheeks and the empty bottle. Not taking her random request seriously until he saw her face turning into an offended sulk. Bottom lip sticking out. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah, it's the tradition!" she pouted, "I don't want a year of loneliness. So you gotta kiss me!" She had an adorable, almost naive giggle decorating her puffy lips. And for a second his eyes lingered on them before eventually shaking his head.

"I don't think -"

"Then don't think," she grinned. "Let's just do this. Just a quick peck."

"Okay, fine," he dragged a sigh, surprised at himself for giving in so quickly when he and Yoongi always accused Jimin of getting easily wrapped around pretty women's fingers. "O-only 'cause I really don't want you to end up a lonely cat-lady though."

Rolling her eyes, she puffed out a snort. "Thank you. That'd be very kind of you!"

She turned her body fully towards him then, head getting dizzy at her abrupt movement.

Why was he even considering this? Oh yeah, to do her a favour. 

Emptying his own small bottle of wine, he also shifted in his seat before taking a brief look around them.

Kissing in public usually wasn't his style, but this could hardly be considered public as they were practically unnoticable in the amount of people around them. And besides, there'd been several others, whether friends or couples, who had exchanged pecks at the stroke of midnight.

So he exhaled and placed his hands on her arms, holding her in place so she wouldn't accidentally lose her balance as she was already swaying with a silly smile. 

"Alright."

"Mhh, do it."

"I-I'm doing it."

"Fine, then do it."

His skin felt on fire. He shouldn't have drunk that much. He might not be a light-weight like her, but he wasn't a big drinker either.

"Just kiss me already," she began whining impatiently, wiggling under his grip. A couple of loose curls falling from the side and framing her face while doing so. "Or I'll be a bigger loner than I already am."

He frowned with a snort. "That's emotional blackmail," he deadpanned then in an attempt to distract from his irrational nervousness.

But Cassandra immediately paused staring at him wide-eyed as if someone had slapped her and she only now realised where she was and what she was doing.

With an awkward laugh, her eyes fell to the space between them. Perhaps the buzz was beginning to wear off or it was a moment of clarity, but she realised it was pointless if she had to force him. Perhaps that would even give her bad luck in the end. And she already had enough of that.

She shook her head, embarrassed of her tipsy self. "Y-you're right. Forget it. It's a stupid tradition anyway. Can't remember the last time I kissed anyone on New Year's."

His brows furrowed at her sudden change of mind. "No, it's fine. I'm gonna do it."

"No, seriously. We don't have to," she ensured him, her words muffled from her woolen scarf as she tried burying her face in it. Cursing herself from minutes ago for even speaking out that rash nonsense.

However, Taehyung's grip around her upper arms only tightened. Making her grow stiff under his stare.

"I said I would and I keep my word." His voice was calm yet determined, which surprised him considering his hesitation and she dragged a breath, straightening herself under his hands. 

Was it weird that she didn't feel nervous despite it all? Probably. She blamed her low cogitation and the knowledge it wouldn't have any romantic significance anyway. Just friends following a tradition like many others around them.

"Fine, let's go."

He swallowed as he met her warm orbs. And he began fidgeting all over again. "Alright, okay, great. That's what I'm gonna do."

"All right."

His hands left her arms, instead placing themselves around her delicate neck and caging her velvety curls in his palms. A light shiver ran down her spine and she wasn't sure if it was the coldness of his fingers or the warmth of his touch. It was firm yet tender and she sensed her pulse picking up in rate with each passing second.

"Okay, ready?"

Cassandra only nodded, unable to speak all of a sudden. Maybe she wasn't drunk enough to stop her feelings and thoughts taking over her senses after all. 

Her eyes flicked to his heart-shaped lips before making the stupid mistake of glancing back at him and meeting his eyes. His face was open and vulnerable in the streetlamps and fireworks above them and she caught a hint of wonder on it as they stared at each other. Slowly, he began leaning closer. And she swallowed down the tiny gasp that dared escaping her lips.

"One, two.." He paused then, scowling at himself. "No, wait. I'm not actually gonna count down."

"O-okay."

"That's not my style when I kiss."

"Okay."

"I don't count d-"

"Tae, it's fine," Cassandra giggled, interrupting his ramble. She'd never seen him ramble before. Was he.. flustered? She'd always imagined him kissing lots of women in disguise. Even if he always claimed not even Jimin, the actual flirtatious among them, did that.

The thumbs on her cheek gently brushed the stray strands aside then. His eyes shifting to hers again. The last fireworks sparkled in them and for a moment his heart forgot how to beat.

"R-ready?"

"Yeah," she breathed.

He closed his eyes, his face coming close. A deep crease set between his brows then, making his face look rather angry for a kiss. And her tipsy mind ultimately lost focus upon that hilarious realisation.

"What's this face!" she bursted out laughing, unable to contain herself and he backed off, irritated about her laughing fit.

"W-what face?"

"You can't make that face when you try kissing someone," she choked out in between of laughs while pointing at him.

"Oh, so you say something's wrong with my face now?" Taehyung only scoffed, somehow glad about the interruption though. He wondered if his fingers were actually shaking or if it was from the vibrations of her laughter.

"No, idiot! You're handsome and you know it!"

Startled at the unexpected compliment, a timid smirk tucked on his lips at her drunm words. His chest warming despite him downplaying the muddled feeling that was raising. "Oh, so you think I'm handsome now?"

She groaned in annoyance, lightly hitting his chest over the coat. "Don't pretend."

"So, do you want me to kiss you or not?" His teasing smirk returning.

"Maybe if you didn't make that face."

"That's very nice of you considering I'm doing you a favor here," he laughed under his breath. Not remembering any woman having ever made him laugh so much despite complimenting and confusing him at the same time. 

Cassandra inhaled and exhaled deeply, calming himself again somehow. "Alright, let's do this already. No big deal," she nodded to herself, sternly, "Just kiss me."

"Nope."

She gasped at his evil grin. "You were about to, though!"

Taehyung only shrugged unimpressed and abruptly let go of her. "Yeah, before you bruised my ego," he retorted simply, causing her to huff.

"C'mon," she nudged his arm, "I'm sorry. I promise I won't laugh again."

"Apology accepted. But I'm not gonna kiss you." His lopsided smirk torturous, making her frustration grow.

"You're making such a big deal out of it, just kiss me already!"

"I'm not gonna kiss you!"

"Kiss me!"

"No! Not like this!"

Cassandra paused. Her parted lips, ready to counter something back in their bickering, abruptly pressed together into a thin line when processing his last words. She stared at his now bewildered face when he also realised what he had just unintentionally confessed.

"What?" she blinked confused, "What does that mean?"

Taehyung's eyes were wide, panic clouding his mind. "No. No-nothing. I just, I didn't mean it like that," he began with a terrible stutter the longer he looked at her inquiring eyes.

It didn't make sense. He was always capable of staying cool-headed even in stressful situation. It was inevitable in heists and when being in diguise. Then why did he totally blank out with the way her warm bambi eyes were digging daggers into his as the seconds passed. "I just, I mean we can't like that because that's not - it's very - like, you don't.. That's not what -" 

But Cassandra didn't even seem to be listening anymore, staring absendmindedly up at the sky instead, being clearly still tipsy and all over the place - he could tell.

Taehyung stilled then. The beanie was pulled to her brows, scarf hiding half her face. Only her round eyes peeked out, holding a lovely innocent wonder in them.

It was irrational. It was scary. How it was more thrilling celebrating with her and cheap wine from a 24/7 store at the beach, than being in an expensive smoking on a yacht surrounded by millionairs while drinking the most expensive champagne.

Cassandra abruptly shook herself out of her short abstraction then and flashed him a smile. 

"Come, let's leave or you wanna get hypothermia?" She was joking, but he noticed her anew shivering and he realised she must still be cold. 

"Y-yeah, let's go."

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The new year was only a couple of hours old. Quite early to go home for most, but Cassandra felt exhausted despite having completely sobered up by now. Much to her own dismay, she wasn't the night owl she'd used to be anymore.

The air felt colder when she turned into her street. The way home taking longer than expected due to what it seemed half of the city being out on the streets and traffic jams everywhere. Lines of cars, impatiently honking and only moving for a few centimetres before having to stop again.

Taehyung followed behind her, wanting to fetch his gift before leaving the city again. It wasn't unusual for him to only stay for a day there before having to move again, but somehow she'd hoped he'd stay longer. 

The night breeze hit his warm cheeks as they reached the front door and she fumbled with the keys in the dark. Eventually finding the right one and unlocking the door, allowing them both to enter.

The painting was on the coffee table where he'd left it. He picked it up, examining it one more time in silence before tucking it under his arm and heading back to where she was in the hallway. Still busy taking off her shoes and jacket.

"Thanks again for this," he smiled gently and watched her lowering the beanie, ruffling through her curls to give them some of their lost volume back. "I'll make sure to store it in a save place." His voice was almost a whisper when he attempted to open the door, only to sense her tugging at his coat.

"Wait, I-" She pursed her lips, gaze falling as she saw his questioning glance. "I wanted to say thank you for spending the turn of the year with me.. I appreciate you coming all the way here so I wouldn't be lonely tonight."

His lips parted, taken aback. Had it been so obvious after all? However, he chose to pretend being confused and not knowing what she meant instead. "Who says that was my reason?"

Cassandra shrugged, lips curling into a rueful smile. "Maybe I just wished it was.. Whatever it was, still thank you. And I'm sorry."

Taehyung frowned. Gaze falling as well. "No need to apologise," he muttered, instinctively knowing what she was referring to. He swallowed then, shoving his free hand into his pocket. 

In retrospective, it hadn't been such a big deal and yet, he was glad he hadn't proceeded to kiss her like that. He knew he'd have regretted in the long run.

"I feel like it, though," Cassandra continued then with a sigh, "I feel so stupid. I shouldn't have insisted on keeping a tradition. Especially since I don't even believe in supersticious stuff."

He eyed her with a doubtful look, making her roll her eyes and sigh in defeat.

"Fine, I do. Sometimes. Some stuff. Not all."

He chuckled lightly making her smile.

Truth was, Cassandra was disappointed in herself for getting so weak and desperate, putting him in such a position and creating this awkward tension between them.

"Tae, you didn't have to kiss me." She felt like she needed to underline this. Her voice small and filled with guilt and shame. "Please, don't feel bad."

"I know, don't worry," he reassured before they grew quiet. 

In times like this she really disliked his withdrawn and secretive personality. Usually his aloof and coy aura intrigued her, but right now she needed him to speak to her. And the fact he didn't, made her fidgety.

They stood there for a second longer. 

Faint music was echoing from somewhere in the building while the piercing sound of lonely firecrackers was heard from the streets.

"Well, okay good then.. goodnight. And Happy New Year again." She tried sounding cheerful, masking her regret of screwing things over in her irrational state.

She wouldn't see him again for an indefinite period and that was how they'd be parting ways now. She hated herself from two hours ago.

Dragging out a breath, she reached for the door handle to let him out when a grip on her elbow prevented her from doing so. 

Taehyung grabbed her arm and in a swift move, pulled Cassandra into his chest. Strong arms catching her, wrapping around her smaller figure and before she could even properly react, his lips had already engulfed hers.

That was it. All the self-control she'd exerted over the past months went straight out the window in that moment. Her neurological system completely shutting down by the overload of neurotransmitters, hormones and endorphines, simply swiping her mind blank with the only remaining thought being how incredible his warm lips felt against hers.

Her arms instinctively found their way around his neck to pull him even closer. Feeling the cold metal of his necklace against her fingertips. And she kissed him back fiercely, Taehyung wounding his hands more into her long hair at this. It curled around his fingers, silky and fluffy and for a moment he lost any sense of time or his surroundings when all he could feel was the vibration of her skin against his and the bewitching rum-lime taste of her lips full of unspoken feelings and endless promises. 

Their lips moved, molding, melting into one another. Whatever logic and reason there had been, had long gone away. There was nothing left but their intertwined lips and breaths.

Eventually, they slipped from each other after what felt like an eternity but could have only been a minute. Panting against each other.

Their eyes remained closed, not daring opening and letting that moment ending in smoke so soon. Taehyung rested his dazed forehead against hers and leaned in. Planting one last kiss on her lips, this time less heated but rather tender and mellow. Savioring the last bit of the sour-tasting liquor mixed with his sweet wine. And Cassandra leaned into him more before they let go of each other at last.

Her eyes fluttered open immediately, dark lashes lining against her pale skin in a state of surreal haze. He wasn't sure if she'd ever looked more beautiful as in that moment, right after he'd kissed her and he felt the urge to do it again at this sight. 

"I meant something like that."

With that, he stepped back and picked up the painting from where he'd set it on the ground. Brushing past her. And he left without saying anything else.

Cassandra stood there in the empty hallway, stunned. Everything around her was spinning and she feared she was intoxicated all over again.

Her fingers slowly rose then to touch her numb lips. Ensuring they were still there. Along with the lasting sense of Taehyung's touch.

Her New Year's wish had finally come true.

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next chapter: 0.8 here

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[writteninlunarlight-years]

Poet on the Broadcast

This is another one based on a song; it's a more sappier side of Alastor. It was also written for a close friend, @willowaudreykeyes. They gave me this bittersweet idea in an RP that we are working on. I hope you all enjoy it! Song: Rule#46 - Poet By Fish Inside a Bird Cage

TW: AFAB Reader, death, self sabotage, hallucinations, poor living experiences, violence, Hurt-> Comfort

Time was a cruel mistress indeed, an unrelenting thief that snatched away the very things we hold most dear. With every tick of the clock, she mercilessly stripped us of youth, laughter, and loved ones, leaving only echoes in her wake.

You were no exception. You bore witness to Alastor's fall—the haunting shadow of his demise forever etched in your memory. The freezing winds whipped through the snowy woods as you ran, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. Hounds barked, their growls reverberating through the trees, a sinister chorus to the chaos all around you. Gunshots rang out like thunder, each a heavy reminder of the danger that lurked just behind you. Every breath felt like a precious treasure, stolen not just from you, but from the man you loved, who had been a light in your dreary life.

Time granted you fleeting moments of respite, allowing you to catch your breath as you evaded the hounds as your partner wished in his dying breaths. Yet, it also forced you to confront the harsh reality of survival, time and again brushing against death for the sins of your beloved. For the enemies he created and formed in the years he stood by your side.

You lived a modest life, flitting between the opulence of high society and the grit of the streets. Each day was a delicate dance, a balancing act between the world of privilege and the shadows of hardship. But with every birthday that passed, a bittersweet yearning filled your heart—a longing to reunite with Alastor. 

Then, just as that desire reached its peak, you closed your eyes letting time take you to the great unknown with the man you lost years ago. Except time no she is a cruel mistress indeed. You were awoken in a different body, younger, in a time that felt both foreign and familiar.

How cruel is time, to gift you this love only to rip it from your grasp again and again? How many lifetimes must you endure, each one marked by the haunting memory of him, always just out of reach?

In this second life, you became a PhD student, a mind lost in the pursuit of knowledge, but also a vigilante in the shadows of the city, fighting for those who had no voice. Yet, the memory of your beloved Alastor lingered, a ghostly echo of a man who was both psychotic and completely yours. 

As the years drifted by in this new existence, the lines between memory and imagination began to blur. Why had you been granted this second chance? Was it a blessing or a cruel curse? Was the vision of Alastor beside you, whispered in the dark, merely a figment of a child’s imagination, a way to escape the unrelenting horrors of your reality? 

As your birthday came and went once more, a darker fate awaited you. You found yourself thrust into a hellish red landscape, a cruel irony considering you had committed no sins. Roaming the streets of this infernal realm, you quickly adapted, your years spent fighting alongside Alastor sharpening your instincts, allowing you to rise swiftly within the ranks of hell.

Then, four years into your torment, you heard a broadcast that sent shivers down your spine. The Vee's were in an uproar, and you felt an inexplicable pull to the source of their distress. You tuned in, and the voice that emerged from the static struck a chord deep within you. It was a voice you had longed for, a melodic tune you remembered all too well—a voice that transported you back two lifetimes ago, when you would sit by the window at dusk, eagerly awaiting his return.

Could it be? That past life, once dismissed as mere fantasy, began to feel so so close to real. The stories he spun during that late-night special were ones only you knew the other half of, secrets woven into the fabric of your shared existence that you feared were long forgotten to time.

With your heart racing, you began to search for him, following the trail of his voice to a hotel for Hazbins seeking redemption. There, amid a myriad of misfits longing for a second chance, was a figure that made your heart leap—a deer demon who looked so painfully familiar yet foreign, a man shaped by the passage of time.

What is time, if not a relentless force that dulls the senses yet sharpens the soul? It is a cruel teacher, reminding us that every moment counts, that love, once lost, can sometimes be found again.

Driven by hope, you joined the redemption program, longing to get close to the man who resembled the Alastor of your memories. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and as a year slipped by, you found the courage to ask him the question that hung in the air like an unspoken promise.

“Are you Alastor, from New Orleans, 1920s, engaged to Y/N?” The question trembled on your lips, heavy with anticipation. You braced yourself for the lash out, for the fierce anger that had always danced in his eyes.

 It was the very fire that had once ignited your passion and fear alike. But instead of a storm, you were met with a soft, bewildered stare. The smile that tugged at his lips was both awe-inspiring and heart-wrenching.

“How do you know about Y/N? Answer wisely, or your screams will be broadcast next for all of hell to hear.” His voice was low, edged with disbelief, and for a moment, the deer demon seemed almost vulnerable—a rarity in any world you knew him in.

“I am Y/N…” Your voice quivered, a fragile thread of conviction woven with longing. You hoped he could see the truth in your eyes, but as his expression morphed from shock to confusion and then to a flicker of spite, you understood that time was still playing its cruel game.

“No, no, you aren’t! Otherwise, you would have found me ages ago!” He stalked over to you grabbing yout collar. He growled in frustration and his grip tightened around your throat, lifting you to eye level, his horns casting ominous shadows. “How dare you pretend to be her? Who told you about that part of my past? Who do you know?”

Steadying your breath, you summoned every cherished memory, every detail only you could recall. The words poured from your honey-coated lips like a sweet symphony, and as he slowly let you down, a fond smile broke across both your faces.

“Lastly, you thought it blasphemous that I would put ice, honey, and lemon in my tea when you made it for me, telling me I might as well not be drinking it anyway.” As you spoke, the memory unfolded like a picture book bare before you, and before you knew it, he had pulled you into a tight lasting embrace.

Was this it? Had time finally allowed you to win? Had you endured enough in this limbo of two unfair lives? This embrace realigned everything that had felt lost for so long, a warmth spreading through your very being.

“I waited for you! I waited for years—ninety long years, my dear!” His voice trembled with emotion as he produced a collection of scripts, each one a fragment of his past, a thread leading back to you. Stories from the early days to the most recent broadcasts, all crafted to help you find him.

“I’m sorry it took so long, Ali… I truly apologize. I would wait a million years to stand beside you. But I am not who I once was. I am broken, scared, and changed by the lives I’ve lived. Would you really want that beside you?” Insecurities threatened to seep into your resolve, but the deeper you delved into the truth of your rough pasts, the more you realized how time had shaped you both.

He looked at you, confusion etched on his face, and then he laughed—a sound free of static, pure and unfiltered. Gently, he pulled you closer, his sigh a whisper of shared pain and understanding.

“You are stronger than you know. When you’re ready to let that strength show, let me guide you. You have every right to be scared; I have walked those same shadowed paths myself. When you’re ready to let go, I will be right here. I will always wait for you.”

At his words, tears welled in your eyes, a torrent of emotions spilling forth. No matter the hardships time had imposed or the years spent apart, you recognized that this love spanned lifetimes—enduring, unwavering. If he was willing to wait for you, then you would fight for him, heart and soul, against the cruelty of time.

Thank you for the support, my Moons~

[bengiyo]

The Miracle of Teddy Bear Ep 1 Stray Thoughts

So, @lurkingshan and @twig-tea say this is good enough that Shan was willing to cash in 9 hours of her coupons to make sure I watch it. Let's see if this show has a very good bear.

I still have trauma from Memory in the Letter. That show also featured rare stellar phenomena as the inciting incident.

The bear is the narrator and is named Tofu.

This dog's reaction is totally reasonable.

Whoa Inn Sarin looks different.

"This is the story of a boy...and a bear..."

What in The Brave Little Toaster (1987) is going on??

"You're beautiful. It's a shame you're a thief." Mr. Security Guard, it's not that kind of video.

Potential car violence in episode 1? It's a Thai drama!

Oh, exposition in the action sequence: Nut is a screenwriter.

Ah yes, he was indeed struck by a vehicle. Let's pull out the Thai statistics again.

I have so many questions about the bear's ability to feel dizzy.

Why does The Little Prince pop up so often??

The furniture is talking again, and they experience lust.

I like meeting all of these characters under stressful conditions like this. It reveals a lot about their characters. We know the best friend is protective of Nut, and feels like some kind of manager. This girl maybe has an unrequited crush. Mom is being helpful but weird.

We got payoff from the furniture lust already. Tofu taking off Nut's clothes when he's drunk doesn't read sexual; neither does their waking up together. It's okay for Nut to recognize his good taste in Tofu, and is a nice soft launch about him being gay, and apparently expecting someone named Neung to be there.

I see we have some kind of dad trauma, and Nut and his mom don't get along much.

Damn, the slippers took mom out to help keep Tofu around. Real ones.

Baby's first existential crisis: will I be abandoned by those I love?

I'm very excited about the curious neighbors.

Okay, I like Nut's actors. He's got good control of his expressions.

She has her husband to help her? Um, ma'am?

Hey, it's kinda sad that Nut's tears seem to be what awakens each item. There's a lot of characters in this room.

Well, taking care of the house is going well...

Tofu and Khunchai got real beef. I love it.

I was wondering when he'd notice his he'd was missing

Suddenly: Tee Thanapon.

Does Tofu not know his own backstory?

I'm interested in the age gap potential of the side pair.

I know Tofu better tell Nut who he is in this episode with how long it is.

Oh shit is Tofu connected to someone else who's in some sort of coma? Is it Neung, who possibly gifted Nut Tofu in the first place?

Wait, who is Tarn, and is he the one who was getting defibrillated?

Interesting. So Tofu resembles a senior named Neung.

Wow, excellent work by Job in this flashback. He doesn't look as irritable and stressed, and he has a great infatuated face.

I believe the toy council is going to solve this mystery.

I understand Nut. The feeling of a man who cares about you laying next to you is comforting. He's totally right to kick Tofu out, though.

Okay, there was a lot that happened in this episode, but I actually think this was a really good opening episode of a drama. I have a strong sense of the entire cast so far, and we have some interesting mysteries to unpack. We have the question of Tofu's transformation, his connection to the man in the hospital, the mom claiming the dad is around, why Tofu looks like Neung, who is Tarn, and why do only some items in the house gain sentience? I'm intrigued.

[hsvh-hp]

You know I agree with you that fanon paints Lucius as a much worse father than he was and I don't like that either, but do you not think indoctrinating your child into a genocidal cult + coldly demanding that he be the best in class and publicly humiliating him about that ("if [my son's] grades don't pick up, a thief or a plunderer] may indeed be all he is fit for") is bad parenting?

Like I'm not saying "he is a bad parent" or "he is a good parent", I'm very hesitant to label parents (real or fictional) in such a one-dimensional way because parent-child relationships are so incredibly complicated. But at the same time it is very important to me to acknowledge even little things parents can do that can really have a negative impact on children. And indeed in Draco's case they do, leading him to want to be a Death Eater, to seek validation from Voldemort (when he disarms Dumbledore he talks about wanting to be the Dark Lord's favourite, he doesn't want help from Snape because he has a need to prove himself etc) and contributing to his general insecurity and need to be better than everyone & getting upset when he's not, because if he's not the best all the time then he feels really bad.

One big reason I dislike the fanon tendency to make every morally questionable parent an extremely physically abusive monster is precisely because that erases the representation of how the smaller, psychologically/emotionally damaging things they do can still be traumatising.

It goes without saying that there’s nuance. I would never say nor claim that Lucius did nothing wrong or didn’t make mistakes. By mere virtue of holding bigoted beliefs, he signaled to Draco that there were things he could do or be that might undermine his father’s love. To me, it doesn’t even matter if Lucius is otherwise perfect as a father. That small thing, in a kid as needy for love and validation as Draco is, would be enough to have him always on edge and anxiously performing his role as the perfect son to the best of his ability.

My earlier frustration was a pushback against the need to inflate Lucius’ less-great moments into overtly obvious abuse (we are very much in agreement there), as fanon seems to love to do without a hint of introspection or greater analysis. I’m so bored of complicated behaviour being filed away into a thought-terminating box called ‘abuse’, where a sole instance of someone being a grumpy, imperfect dad (the Borgin & Burke’s scene) is all that’s required to put a character on the same level as men who actually do beat their sons. It’s not given a greater thought.

For instance, you bring up Draco’s indoctrination into the Death Eaters, and his eagerness to join. This is a very interesting conundrum for Lucius to me because Voldemort is back for an entire year before Draco signs up. Lucius is in Azkaban at the time, unable to exert any influence over Draco’s decision, and Voldemort explicitly brings Draco into the fold as a form of punishment for Lucius. We have no access to Lucius’ head as readers, but he had an entire year afterward to sit and think about how he failed Draco. He’s a smart guy. I’m sure he could put it together that his bigotry came very close to costing his son his life. Considering the Malfoys sit alongside the winners of the war in the Great Hall, it speaks to me of some greater narrative reflection on Lucius’ part to have earned himself a place there.

The point is, I’ve never seen that Lucius in fic before. I crave that Lucius, who can realize his mistakes and grow or change as a result (and is brave enough not to let the lateness of its arrival dictate the terms). It’s very important to me that growth not be something exclusive to a certain age (16 and under? 18? I’ve seen people argue that Draco was no longer redeemable at 12 LMAO). So yeah, feeling alone in this sentiment occasionally bubbles up and I forget to articulate all the nuance of the subject when engaging with it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[muffinsin]

Just read the ask about dimi sisters admiring from afar. Enjoyed it a lot! As always, great writing. The last lines for dani caught my attention.

I read it over and over then thought to myself “well, what if Dani had a knight! s/o that was originally sent to slay her?” But of course, upon the knight facing her they come to see that Dani is no real monster and decide to “slay” her in a different way. Knight! s/o sent to pierce the heart of the beast only to “pierce” her else where (g!p knight).

Ooooo yes, Daniela deserves herself a knight ;) this has been a WIP for too long🙇‍♀️

Let’s get into it!

Masterlists

Castle Dimitrescu.

You’ve heard so much about this place already, the terrors it holds within, the poor, screaming and crying, kicking and mewling victims dragged to its entrance never to be seen again.

The many crying, bruised women dragged away.

It is said, the men are tortured and killed. Dehumanized and destroyed, torn apart.

It is said, the women suffer a fate worse than death. It is said, they are taken. Some, to be enslaved. “Employed”. Others are kidnapped to become wine, or to serve as walking livestock.

The grand castle- the place of horror, blood and death. The place that holds monsters, it is said. Is it true? Ah, you are about to find out, it seems.

Indeed, monsters of all kinds are said to roam its halls and cellars, such as the one you are sent to kill.

Daniela Dimitrescu.

Accordingly, a siren. A bloodthirsty monster. A manipulator, a liar. A thief and the goddess of torture and pain, of deception and corruption.

It is said, she takes and enslaves, and those that are taken never return.

You wonder about her, you’ve received painfully little information about her.

Red hair, bloodied face, black dress, green gemstone in her choker necklace. It’s all the input you have to recognise her.

You wonder, will her face be young and beautiful? Ready to corrupt souls? Or will she be a hag, ready to put a spell on you?

You decide, there is only one way to find out.

The path to the iron doors that lead into the castle is stony, and bloody. It’s where victims are dragged inside, you realise.

You grip your sword a little tighter as you unsheathe it. You have the feeling, you’re going to need it.

You sigh…there is but one way inside. You know you will need to fight your way through.

Your muscles ache as you advance through the castle, blood- partly yours and partly that of the undead roaming the halls- smeared alongside your body.

At last, it seems, you have ventured far enough to hear the siren’s voice.

“There you are!”, she says, as though relieved.

You don’t see her, for a mere moment, and gasp when suddenly a woman manifests in front of you, made from by far too many bugs.

You don’t have time to get a good look at your attacker, nor to prepare yourself and strategise, for a sickle is already swung your way.

She crackles and giggles, as if in delight when you block her sickle with the steel adorning your arm.

“I can feel your heart beating for me!”, she says, loud and cheerful. Is this Daniela? The flashes of red hair suggest so.

You can’t get a look at her, not really, with the amount of flies and weapons being flung around.

You flinch back when the sickle gets uncomfortably close to your face, so much so you feel it graze your helmet.

When you attempt to push her back, you are only met with flies and thin air.

“My beautiful knight!”, she hums, and for a moment it looks like she’s spinning around excitedly.

You gasp when she throws herself against you next, her sharp nails attempting to penetrate the armor. They merely leave scratches, though it gives you a good scare.

You attempt to swing your blade at her, but it seems to go right through her.

This only makes her giggle again. “Naughty knight”, she scolds playfully. You can’t help but worry, will she be your doom?

Is she the monster you cannot slay? Have you accepted a bounty for the impossible?

Her sickle attempts to attack your armoured leg now. Thankfully, the blade cannot penetrate the steel but you know, it will leave a nasty bruise.

When you kick forwards, hoping to make the monster stumble and fall, she merely avoids your kicks again.

This seems futile! And yet, that is about to change.

You hiss when you’re backed up again, against a wooden pillar and a button. Your back presses it as your body is pushed against it, and both of you look upwards at a loud noise.

First golden eyes, then yours, mostly hidden by the helmet, widen when the large window at the ceiling opens up.

Suddenly, the creature in front of you screams.

You back away almost instinctively, expecting an ugly mutation such as the ones you have encountered in the past.

But no mutation comes. Quite the opposite, even. She screams loud at the wind that hits her, and you see the flies she seems to be made of drop to the ground.

She’s gasping and shrieking, her hood turning to a lighter colour as she holds her arms up to her face. The fabric of her dress turns to a lighter colour, too.

Flies drop from her, and fall dead to the floor.

Oh?

This is your chance to strike at last, it seems. Both of you know this.

“No you don’t!”, you curse, your gloved fingers grabbing her arm as she attempts to run. You hear the sickening sound of bugs being squashed under you, and feel a little odd as you grip her.

No longer can this monster avoid your attacks. She seems to be in a relatively mortal body, now.

Unsurprisingly, she swings back around, her sickle hitting your armoured shoulder, to no avail.

Again, you are sure it will bruise, but at the very least the sharp blade can’t penetrate you.

Daniela screams as a sword is raised to her neck, and gasps when she falls back against the floor as you push her arm easily.

Fear flashes in her eyes. “You’ll kill me!”, she gasps, as though shocked.

She’s crawling backwards now, as though unsure where to go. Upon attempting to lunge for her sickle, you step onto the blade harshly just as her fingers tighten around it.

Wide, fearful eyes look at you.

She gasps when you kick the sickle from her easily, and quickly draws back her hand. Is that a whimper you’re hearing?

Your eyes widen when she opens up her mouth, a loud call coming from her lips. You can’t have her bring any more monsters to you!

“Cassan-EE!”, she shrieks when you step closer to her, and immediately backs up again. This time, you don’t grant her the space and quickly, with a yank of her black tights- covered ankle, she is back below you, eyes wide and fearful.

She flinches when you dig your sword and dagger into the wooden ground next to her neck, creating an X shape right at her throat. She’s unable to move, should she not want the blades to cut into her.

You notice, flies are still dripping to the floor, yet find yourself frowning underneath your helmet as you look up at her face.

She’s crying. And she doesn’t look older than perhaps her mid twenties. Her eyes are an unnatural shade gold, yet you see the light green colour peeking through.

Makeup adorns her face, smeared and smudged, running down her cheeks with the wet tears that come from her eyes.

She has a button nose and round cheeks. Blood covers her mouth and chin.

She’s trembling beneath you, and you notice how petite the woman is. She doesn’t stand a chance against a fight with you like this, without the support of her flies.

And she knows this too.

Yet, with this woman eying you so fearfully, you can’t help but wonder- how is she this monster?

She was calling for someone- for help? It’s a painfully human thing to do. No other monster you have encountered screamed for help from someone.

Then, of course, there were her words. “You’ll kill me!”, spoken so shocked and breathless you can’t help but wonder: has this been a game to her prior to her injuries?

She eyes you, fearful, yet curious.

“What do you want?”, she asks. Her voice is soft, but shaky. She’s scared of you, but doesn’t dare raise her hands to the swords trapping her in place.

Mother has warned her of the outsiders, after all. She doesn’t want to die!

Truthfully- you have no idea what you want. You feel betrayed, set up. You feel as though she has been betrayed. Someone set up this contract on her, claiming she is a monster to be slain.

You know, she isn’t. She is undoubtedly a killer, yet, you can’t bring yourself to see the beautifully petite and fearful woman as a monster. Not by your standards.

“I don’t want to die! Take whatever you want!”, she cries out suddenly when you shift a little.

You’re hovering above her, and you notice, she is desperately trying to find your eyes through the gap of your helmet.

Perhaps, what you are about to do is foolish….

Golden eyes find yours when you tug the helmet off, and she flinches yet again when you drop it next to her, just at her hips.

“You’re…”, she doesn’t dare finish her sentence. She doesn’t dare speak her thoughts. Why is she still alive, if not because you love her? She knows, this can’t be right though. Cassandra has told her over and over again- outsiders do not fall for monsters such as her, and even if they did, they would never do Daniela right and meet their demise anyway.

You quirk an eyebrow and she lightly turns her head, just enough to avoid your eyes without getting cut.

Neither of you realise the window is closed again, even as Daniela doesn’t feel the sting of the cold anymore.

You can’t help but stare at the woman below you. She’s beautiful.

Siren

The word- the warning- echoes in your mind. But she is no witch putting you under a spell. She’s a woman, a beautiful, beautiful woman, that looks up at you all too curiously and desperately.

Can this truly be the monster everyone has talked about? This playful woman?

Have you been fooled? Or is she the one fooling you?

Daniela flinches when you take the dagger from the floor and throw it in the corner. She watches with wide eyes, a small smile dares slip to her lips.

“You’re pretty…”, she finishes her thought from moments ago. You can’t help but smile at her. She’s blushing at her small confession.

Daniela’s cheek is bright pink and warm when you cup it. She watches you pull the glove from your hand, then touch her cheek again.

“You’re so- soft”, you breathe out. She’s so beautiful and pliable under you, breathing heavily and blushing sweetly.

“I-“, she gasps breathlessly when her head is turned.

Daniela bites her lip when the sword is removed too and attached to your belt again.

You now notice too, that the window is shut. As she notices this, a large grin spreads on her lips.

For a moment you fear this is the end, when bugs surround you and throw you backwards and her sickle presses against your throat.

She’s on top of you, giggling and urging you to tilt your head sideways. Yet, when you expect her to dig her teeth inside your unprotected flesh and serve you a painful death, you gasp when you instead feel soft lips press a gentle kiss to them.

“I won!”, she claims eagerly. Her golden eyes are set on you, and you gasp in surprise when she takes your hand in hers boldly. “I won! You lost! That was fun!”, she giggles. “I think, I’ll still let you kiss me though. Don’t you think I deserve a reward too, my love?”, she hums, almost dreamily.

My love?

Reward?

So this truly is just a playful game to her?

You can’t help but bite your lip at her. After all…there is a beautiful woman sitting on top of you. And you’ve slain so many real monsters in the castle- mindless, rotten corpses- surely you couldn’t be blamed for having a little bit of fun?

You reach up and gently grasp her soft hair, using your grip to pull her down yet again. “Get me out of all this armour, pretty girl”, you whisper, and smile when she squeaks at the petname.

With her face adorably flushed, her gloved hands work on undoing pieces of your fit.

You can’t help but smile fondly at the flustered, blushing woman that just sometimes catches your eyes and smiles eagerly.

How could someone mistake this woman for a monster? Even with the blood around her lips? Maybe you should know better. Maybe you already do.

Daniela is no monster, you settle on. She’s just- different. There’s more to being a monster than killing- you of all people should know.

She’s eager in her movements, and smiles when all the armor is off and you’re left in a tight, brown cloth and undergarments.

As she straddles you again, she squeaks and you laugh. Her thick behind presses up right against your visible bulge, and it’s making her turn her head adorably in confusion.

“Think you can still take it, princess?”, you hum. For a second, you see raw desire flash in her eyes. It seems, your newfound redhead enjoys the nickname given to her.

You groan and throw your head back as she begins moving her hips again, her gloved hands on your shoulders and her clothed ass rubbing up against you.

“God…yes..!”, you groan, your hand coming up to cup her adorably round ass. She arches her back on top of you, her hair framing her face beautifully as she thrusts her hips.

Little, sweet moans pass her blood coated lips as she grinds down on you, a fierce blush on her cheeks. You almost laugh at the situation; you’ve come to find a monster, discovered a princess, and are now about to fuck her like a slut. The thought amuses you.

She giggles when you pull her forwards and hums as, at last, your lips meet hers. You cringe slightly at the metallic, bloody flavour that coats them, yet taste the sweetness underneath. Her mouth is sweet, as though she’s eaten candy recently.

You wouldn’t be surprised if she did.

Daniela’s grinding harder against you, her tongue easily dominated by yours and her hands groping your hips and chest eagerly. You realise, she’s desperate.

The poor thing has been deprived of human contact in so long, it’s no surprise she’s this eager now.

Still, you wish to see how naughty the redhead on top of you is.

Daniela gasps when you tug on her dress, yet eagerly removes it within seconds. More and more of smooth, soft skin, pale and thick, is revealed. She blushes as her pink, perky breasts and nipples stand bare for you and you immediately raise your hands to them.

You can’t help but smile filthily at her large chest, and feel your cock ache with the desire to thrust between her round breasts.

Daniela gasps when you flip the two of you, your hands next to her head, strong arms flexing as you hold yourself up. She looks up at you, adorably wide eyes, a ring of gold surrounding the black.

She grasps at the brown cloth, and you eagerly allow her to tear it off you. Instead, you have other matters to attend to, after all. Such as her large, soft breasts. You cup one of them in your hand, squeezing and squeezing a light squeak from her. You squeeze it in your hand, and as you lean down and suck it, another moan and gasp is pulled from her.

It seems, being locked in such a big castle for who knows how long has made your princess adorably sensitive and needy. You can’t help but smirk at the thought, as well as the thought to claim and ruin the woman for everybody else.

Already you imagine how tight she must be for you.

You feel her tight, soaked panties against your undergarments when the brown garment is finally torn from your body, and nearly throw your head back at the sensation of her soft, thick southern lips pressed against you whenever you grind down hard enough.

She squirms, and moans, her fingers grasping first your arm before they move up and she settles on scratching alongside your back instead.

The soft flesh of her breasts spills from between your fingers, her back arching when you suck again.

Daniela gasps when you move up again, tugging her and pushing her over the small cart stacking books.

You can’t help but smirk filthily as you pull on the waistband of her tight, black panties, and slowly reveal her soaking entrance.

“Mhmmm, please, my Knight”, she begs, her cheeks flushed when you spread her legs wider. You put your index and middle finger on one juicy lip each, then, much to Daniela’s embarrassment, pull them apart and expose her entirely to you.

She keens and shakes her hips a little as you spread her southern lips, her wet core leaking creamy arousal already. You lick your lips at the mere sight.

Wetness drips from her like honey, and her hips buck shakily against the cart when your warm breath hits her thighs.

A gasp is pulled from her again when you prod at her entrance, your fingertip grazing her entrance and your tongue sliding across her clit.

“Mghmm! Y-Yes! Yes, my sweet!”

You chuckle a little. Her taste lingers on your tongue and you hum at how delicious the woman in front of you is.

Your cock aches painfully as you begin to suck at her clit and your index finger pushes deep inside of her. She shivers and mewls, her stance widening to allow you to move properly between her slim thighs.

You hum against her soft pussy when a second finger pushes inside of her. Again, Daniela gasps and moans softly. Her little groans and shivers really do a number on you.

You thrust your fingers fast, her sweet scent filling your nose and her delicious taste in your mouth.

“H-H-AAh, yes, y-yes!”, she moans, her beautiful face flushed and her fingertips gripping the cart tightly. The poor thing is panting and gasping, unused to such a rough pace.

When you curl your fingers inside of her, Daniela slaps her hand over her lips. She turns her head for a moment, as though worried her sisters will come to check up on her. Thankfully, this isn’t the case. They seem to be busy with the free roaming moroaica, still.

Her moans, her taste, her feel makes your cock ache hard. You know, you can’t last much longer. She’s so enticing, seducing you and luring you to bury yourself inside of her already.

You decide, you can wait only a little longer.

You hear her muffled moans and slurred words when you lick against her. Your tongue moves fast, up and down, sideways along her sensitive clit. The poor little bud is bright pink and sensitive for you.

Using your free hand you grip her hip and pull her closer against you, her round ass pushed up against you and her quivering thighs by your head.

“Y-yes mhnnng, f-fu-aack! Fuck! Yes!”, she moans, her moans increasing in volume and frequency.

Daniela grips the cart tightly as she feels her orgasm rising within her already. You treat her so well.

Alas, when you feel her tighten around your pumping fingers, you can’t hold back. You feel as though you’re getting blue balls from all this holding back and waiting!

“Hgnn, n-no!”, she gasps, her voice cracking a little as you move your fingers out and pull away from her aching clit. You lick your lips at the mere sight of her.

Creamy arousal drips from her and sticks to your fingers. Sweet, and slightly salty when you lick it off you. Daniela’s head spins as she turns to you and catches the action.

She watches you pull down your underwear, her lip sucked to her mouth and trapped between her teeth when she eyes the cock standing erect between your legs and the large, heavy balls capable of holding enough cum to fill her up entirely.

The thought nearly makes her dizzy. Poor, inexperienced Daniela can’t stop ogling the dangling cock between your legs, her cunt tightening around nothing at the mere sight and the thought of you fucking her with it.

It’s been ages since she’s had one. Ages since she’s found a lost little villager or explorer bearing such a thing. She wonders- will it feel similar to the maid’s fingers? Will it compare to the few toys she knows and has access to? Will it stretch her? It looks nearly monstrous in size.

You bite your lip in return as you step closer to her again, a laugh ripping from your throat when you slap your cock against her round ass cheeks and she jumps a little.

“Think you can take it, my little princess?”, you coo. You reach forwards and caress her hair for a mere moment, before tucking it behind her ear. The woman’s flushed face is on display when she turns her head, golden eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed a little.

She wants you- no, she needs you.

How could you make such a pretty thing wait? You can’t, you decide.

Daniela groans when you make her cup her ass for you and spread her legs a little wider, allowing you to see her pussy properly as you push your thick head against it.

Immediately, Daniela’s eyes widen a little.

“It won’t fi-a-AH!”

You groan as you push the head instead, her lips parted adorably and her head bobbing forwards. She grabs the cart again, her fingertips digging into the covers of the books beneath her.

“Sssh”, my beautiful songbird, we’ve got quite a bit more to go”, you whisper back, a hand sliding from her ass and up her back. Again, you grip her hair, gentle at first.

You start thrusting slowly, back and forth, each time making her accept more of you inside of her. She’s tight and soaked for you, trembling around you and gripping your cock tightly.

“Y-Yes! Fuck, oh ye-es, my kni-a-ah, knight!”

You laugh happily, groans and moans falling from your lips as you begin to thrust a little harder.

More, and more. Just a little more.

She’s got a little more than half of you inside of her, the tip stroking against her insides with each thrust inside. Daniela moans with every move into her.

You rub up against her G-Spot repeatedly and she shrieks against the hand covering her mouth when, at last, you force all of yourself inside of her.

Your eyes roll back for a moment, and your hands sliding to her hips and gripping them tightly is one of the only preparations she has to guess your next moves.

Daniela squeaks in surprise when you grasp her tightly and elevate her slightly, her hips lifted off the cart and granting you a better angle to push into her.

When you do, both of you moan loudly. She shrieks and moans, her cheeks bright red and her eyes struggle to stay open.

You can’t hold back any longer, though. You push inside of her, fast and rough, your cock ramming deep inside her tight core and your tip pushing against the back of her womb. The cart underneath her rattles and rolls, books threaten to fall.

The poor thing can barely keep her hand against her lips to muffle the sounds spilling from her lips. You smirk at this. You intend to make her lose herself entirely, to leave her utterly claimed as yours and ruined for all other. After all, it’s a one in a lifetime opportunity, to see and be with a beauty such as Daniela Dimitrescu.

Your hips jerk back and forth fast, your limbs aching and your cock pulsating. You groan at the pleasure she effortlessly provides. Her ass jiggles each time you push up against it.

Daniela feels your balls slap against her, your large cock push deep inside of her. Her thighs shake as you grip her a little tighter, her hands fall to her sides and weakly attempt to grasp the cart for balance.

She squirms adorably beneath you, pants and gasps, whimpers and moans passing her lips.

You feel your own orgasm approaching as well, faster and faster with every thrust into her. Her pussy is juicy and creamy, warm and perfectly soft. She’s tight, but feels as though she was made perfectly just for you.

The pretty little thing moans and gasps, shivers overtaking her body. She’s embarrassingly close, the feeling of a cock penetrating her and filling her fully such a foreign one to her.

Luckily, you are about to change this permanently.

You lift her hips a little higher, allowing you to thrust even deeper. The new angle makes her slur out curses and moans, gasps and groans.

Daniela is the first to cum, her hand raising to her lips a final time as she screams for you.

The sensation of her pussy gripping you tightly and practically milking you for cum makes you roll your eyes and throw your head back.

You too, moan and groan. Your balls twitch and your cock throbs when you follow her lead.

The thought of pulling out crosses your mind for a moment, yet she feels so heavenly, and the creature below you doesn’t seem to mind the thick cum being shot inside of her.

Daniela gasps as more and more fills her, until you rest her back on the cart and pull back out. She jumps again when you slap your cock against her ass cheeks, covering them in the wetness and cream that clings to you now.

The sight of thick, white cum drooling out of her nearly sends you in a frenzy.

As she turns her eyes, you meet golden eyes again. A large grin covers her face, and in an instant you feel yourself knocked backwards and onto the floor. Her dripping cunt hovers over you and you gasp in surprise when she pushes her lips against yours.

“You’re mine now!”

[astudyincontrasts]

You gave us jealous viktor which is great

But what about

HIS S/O GETTING JEALOUS BC OTHER GIRLS ARE PAYING ATTENTION TO HIM

You got it, nonny.  And just to kill two birds, we’re making this a continuation of drunk!Viktor for everyone asking for a second part. 

Inspired by @arcanescribbles artwork featured above, full work here

Viktor x Fem!Reader NSFW  - Part 1

You didn’t know what you should have expected after that drunken night together.  It surely wasn’t this, though.  Awkwardness had been anticipated, sure.  Perhaps a touch of sweetly embarrassed self-consciousness around each other at what you’d done, at the fumbling, wordless admissions you’d both made about your attraction to each other.  

Because what had happened sure hadn’t felt one-sided.

Now, though… now you weren’t so sure.  The notion that perhaps Viktor had just been sloshed out of his wits and not actually interested in you had opened like a yawning, sickening little pit within.  A sinkhole growing by the day as he avoided direct eye contact, made no effort at all to speak with you beyond the formality of cool greeting or farewell.  Worse still, he never seemed to be in a room alone with you, or a room alone at all, preventing any attempt at quiet or private conversation about what had happened.

Truely, it was as if nothing indeed had happened at all.  At least for him.  Cool, collected, buried in his work, Viktor carried on his day to day blithely unaware of how you stood there, burning.  A crackling, scorching human flame of unanswered questions growing more painfully hotter by the day.  No, you were back to being another moving bit of the scenery in his world.  Nameless, faceless drone among the other lab workers and teaching assistants.

Perhaps you should have taken his example, forgotten all about that night and went on with life as usual.  It wasn’t as if he’d used you, after all, or led you on.  And with how incredibly drunk you’d both been nothing serious had happened.  Just a bit of heavy petting, just the feel of his skin on your skin, his large palms and long fingers greedy to cup each curve they could find, eager to squeeze and leave little light bruises behind that had just about faded to nothing a few days later.  Just the taste of his mouth, the heat of his tongue, just…

Maybe that was it.  Maybe the fact he’d had too much to drink to stay fully hard had him embarrassed.  Or the fact he’d passed out sleepily on you the second he had you beneath him on the couch.  Honestly, you’d slept together but that was it.  Just sleep.  Just a cuddled pile of half-clothed bodies dozing off the booze in a tangled heap of unsatiated sexual frustration.

Or perhaps it was that you’d left so ignominiously; waking well before him to untangle yourself, redress and sneak out without saying a word.  At the time you’d blearily thought it was for the best.  That this was saving the both of you an awkward, painfully hungover morning of shame and apology.  Now you realized you’d instead tossed away your one opportunity to actually make sense of what had happened, together.  

Had he been hurt, when he woke and you weren’t there?  Or confused?  Maybe he’d thought it hadn’t happened, that it had all been a boozy dream.  Or maybe he’d misunderstood your leaving as tacit agreement to pretend like your drunken fumble had never occurred.

It was difficult to say which of any of these horrible theories you liked least; that he had never been interested in you, that he was embarrassed of what had happened or regretted it, or that he felt hurt by how you’d slipped away like a thief without a word.  And no way to know since you couldn’t talk to him.

It was making you sick, the uncertainty.  

Sicker still to watch how little it seemed to affect him.  Going about his everyday, blissfully unaware of the weight of your gaze or the crumbling edge of the pit within you that kept shearing off beneath your feet as you suffered his presence in the world in silence.  It made you bitterly angry, had you short and sharp with everyone around you, made you feel like a mess of a person while he, gleaming and perfect and calmly polished, sat above it all untouched.

The breaking point came that weekend.  Almost two weeks to the day that your world had been unraveled by something as innocent as a little too much wine with dinner.

Progress Day.  The first one since the founding of the HexTech labs, since the breakthrough Jayce and Viktor had made that promised to change the world.  The first Progress Day since the council had approved HexTech for research and funded the project to design and build what would eventually become the first of the HexGates.  The experiments in controlling and directing the gates were coming along, and everyone was giddy with anticipation of the first manned attempt at travel scheduled in the coming months.  

Normally you loved the pageantry of the holiday.  Loved the tents and brilliant inventions on display, the bustle and busyness of the open streets and multicolored, intricate tents.  A feast for the eyes, the imagination, the mind and the senses, overwhelming and exhausting in all the best possible ways.  

But instead of a riot of color, your world was a wash of stark grays lit only by the livid flash of angry red as you stood there, manning the HexTech displays and tables along with your fellow lab workers, watching the fawning adoration of the crowds that streamed into the tent to meet the two men of the hour who were touting a brave new world for Piltover.

Jayce was ever the natural;  warm and delighted in the fawning attention, the undisputed and easy locus of the majority of the crowd.  Viktor less so, more reserved, but still beneficent in his acceptance of the attention.  He seemed to catch the overflow from those who couldn’t reach Jayce through the thick gathering that surrounded them both.  

And you stood there and watched, as over and over and over again some young woman or another chatted him up.  Fluttered eyelashes and smiled up at him, one after another, blushing prettily as he spoke earnestly, putting hands upon him in a vaguely inviting manner that had you want to vomit on your own feet.  Stomach lurching every single time he returned a smile, or someone got a little laugh out of him.

So many strangers apparently perfectly deserving of his attention while you were spared not a crumb.  Pretty Piltie debutants and eager university students alike, all lined up to take a greedy mouthful of what you’d already had a taste of.  

Your limit came when one of them, her hand resting upon his shoulder, leaned up on tiptoe to whisper something into his ear and you watched that insufferably pretty mouth of his curl cockeyed into a smile at the edge just under that dark little beauty mark.

The prototype model you held in the clammy grasp of cold-sweat slicked hands slammed onto the table top, your fellow lab engineers jumping at the sudden violence of it and no doubt staring at your angry little outburst as you spun on a heel and marched off.  Head throbbing with every livid heartbeat, the world a hot flame, you cut your way back to the silence of the labs through the crush of crowds and throngs of faceless revelers. 

They could all burn.  It could all burn.  

The labs were mercifully empty.  Quiet.  Work, work would help, surely.  The equations were a worthy opponent and the technical engineering a safe, logical haven where everything was neat, ordered, made perfect sense.  Nevermind that you couldn’t possibly do an ounce of the delicate work with how badly your hands shook at the moment.  Calm would come.  It had to.  First, to the stockroom to shed the fancy frippery of the university waistcoat and tie for the protection of one of the lab smocks and to get the equipment and ledgers you needed.

You were just tugging loose the intricate triple fold knot of the tie when you heard your name.

The question of your name, in that familiar voice.  Accent too gentle with the syllables of it, too careful with the sound.  Oh no.  Janna, no.  Please.

Viktor’s long, lean shape darkened the doorway of the small stockroom closet a moment later and you felt your mouth go dry even as burning wet prickled unwelcome along your lower lashes.

“Am I interrupting?”

“What are you doing here?  You’ll be missed.  Don’t want to disappoint all those adoring-” 

“I could ask you the same thing.”  Viktor’s even, unbothered tone cut off your hotly callous harshness.

“I’ve got work to do.”  It was a thin excuse, and as brittle as your voice.

“Oh.  I see.”  He was so gently willing to let you have your facade that it almost stung more than if he’d pushed back, dismantled your flimsy excuse and left you unprotected and easily seen.  A moment’s awkward silence fell like a sharp edged stone heavy between the pair of you as he turned, glanced toward the exit across the lab, and you felt sure he’d take the easy escape.

Instead he turned back, and one stilted step after another brought him into the closet with you.  

How many days now, had you been silently screaming, begging that he just look your way, just pay you an ounce of attention, acknowledge you existed?  And now, under the weight of both those amber eyes you fervently wished to disappear.  Your turn not to be able to look at him, hands struggling with your tie in a way that only made the knot tighter.

“Is something the matter?”

“W-why would anything be the matter?”  You asked thickly, dropping hands to your sides hard as you gave up strangling yourself with your tie and instead stared at the shelving in front of you as if it had done a personal injury to every member of your family and your dog as well. “You’d better hurry back.  Wouldn’t want to-”

“Are you mad at me?”  The quiet question stopped you cold.  Viktor’s cane clicked once more upon the floor as he swayed a step closer, and then hung the thing from the edge of a shelf to reach forward and pull the knot of silk around your throat loose.  Careful fingers teased the mess you’d made of it until you should have been able to breathe again, were it not for all the air in the room vanishing with his proximity.

So close you could feel the warmth of him.  So close you could smell that clean soap-chalk-coffee scent that was so essentially him.  Eyes closed tight, if only to stop the hot prickling threat of unbidden tears, brows knit hard together as you forced the hard thud heartbeat in your temples to cease, to let you think clearly godsdammit.

“I confess, I can’t remember everything that happened the other night.  I’m afraid I might have done something I regret.”  He continued, when you failed to answer.

There it was.  That sickly sense of nausea returned in double at the thought you’d taken advantage of him, that you’d both been too intoxicated and he’d never wanted what you’d convinced yourself he’d instigated.  That sucking void within beckoned dizzyingly.  Fall.  You deserved it.

The silk at your throat parted and you felt a tug on the back of your neck that confused you, had eyes opening to find Viktor’s hands with a grasp of either end of your tie, using the looped tether of it to drag you closer, inch by fractional inch until you had to turn the question of your gaze up to meet his.

His expression was tight, almost pained.  Like he was struggling to sift through the right words, or couldn’t force them to come at all.

“Viktor-”

“I think… I fell asleep on you.  During… well, before.  Anything.”  His attention had slipped from your eyes to your mouth as you stared at him in confused consternation, “Embarrassing, I’m sorry.”

Wait.  He was sorry?  That was his regret - falling asleep? 

“Have you.”  You had to stop yourself, swallow, fix a point of focus on the little mole just below his one eye to keep the world from dissolving around you before you continued, each word coming out clipped and heavy, “Have you been avoiding me?”

Golden flecked gaze lifted slowly from its fascination with your mouth to find your eyes again, and the silently strained discomfort of his expression said it all.  Don’t make me be this brave again sober.  The breath you sucked was sharp, prickled with the barbed thorns of sudden epiphany.

“When you weren’t there in the morning, I thought… Well.  And ever since you’ve seemed angry.”

Stupid boy.  Stupid, stupid, Janna how could the smartest man you knew also be the most profoundly stupid… Alright, not that you’d been so incredibly intelligent about all this yourself, but.  

All that doubt, all that jealous anger and uncertainty came rushing forward in a searing burst as you shoved him back against the shelves, caught his mouth as you went tiptoe and stopped the both of you saying another foolish word.  His initial grunt of shock thinned and warmed to a hungry little hum as that rough kiss deepened.  As you caught his lower lip in the tug of teeth before seeking the invitation of the press of his tongue against your own.  Hands found his tie and this time you mercifully did not make a mess of it as you got it loose, flung it away and yanked the buttons at his throat open until you could get to skin, skin yes Janna, the taste of his skin again under your mouth.

Above you Viktor sucked a sharp hiss of a breath between teeth as you buried your face in his throat; biting, suckling hard kisses, pouring every last drop of that fruitless jealousy into each taste of him.  Leaving a messy clustered path of darkening red and faintly purpling bruises behind from beneath his ear down to the sweet cut of his collarbone as his hands found the shape of your head, fingers sinking into hair and fisting tightly each time you nipped sharply or licked ticklishly over the faint pulse just under the hinge of his sharp jaw.  

Yours, and everyone would know it.  Everyone would see. 

Reeling back a fraction, you gulped air as fingertips stroked lightly over your handiwork, smiling thinly to yourself at the pretty little patterns of pink and plum you’d wrought on that long, pale column of his throat.

“What…?”  He was mumbling, puzzled at your smug, dark little expression of satisfaction, clearly as confused as he had been a few moments earlier about the nature of your feelings for him.

“Now all of those girls will know.  I don’t want a single one of them thinking they can… I don’t want anyone to…”  Words failed you as the hot sting of watching all those pretty women flirt with him as you stood helplessly by came rushing back and eyes darted from the possessive little marks you’d left to catch his gaze.  Found him looking lost and confused but madly wanting.  Brilliant idiot.

“I’m sorry I left.  I shouldn’t have left.”  Everything felt like a heady, dizzy hurry.  Two weeks worth of frustration and need pouring out and wiping away any sense of reason in the crushing wave. 

You slid to your knees and had his pants open before he could even suck a breath to shape a noise of protest or encouragement.  Desperate to show him how he didn’t need a single one of those other girls, to show him how much you’d wanted what had happened the other night and how badly you craved more.

Face pressed into the part of trousers, breath humid as your hands slid over his clothed groin, eyes turned upward in the heavy lidded need that he understand.

“Tell me to stop.”  You mumbled, finding the weight and soft curve of his balls through the fabric of trousers, cupping them in a constricting, slow roll of one palm that made the lovely shape of his mouth drop open.

“Nno.  No, don’t.”  His order was strangled, softly cracked and urgent.

He hissed relief when you freed him at last, gave him respite from the ever tightening confines of clothing and wrapped both warm hands around the considerable girth of his cock.  More than you’d anticipated, and the back of your throat burned just looking at it.  Gently curved leftward, thickness of it run through with two branching rising veins like a deep blue lichtenburg under pale but flushing skin.  The smooth bell curve head of him ruddy with an invitingly deepening rouge along slit and beneath the ridged rise of its edge.  

He practically invited taste from look alone, had you all too eager to lick the sensitive head of his cock to a glossy wetness as your hands worked him, pumping slow, too slow if the way his hips rutted forward into their grasp had anything to say about it, yet he made no move to guide or halt you.  One long fingered hand pressed to the flat of his own stomach, holding the front tails of his shirt up and back, offering a tantalizing view of the thin, darkly chestnut trail of hair that traced from just above his navel to the base of the cock in your grasp.  The other hand still gripping your hair, throwing you right back to how he’d teased you that night.  How he’d so perfectly summoned all those secret, dirty little fantasies of doing exactly this, exactly here, in this room.

An urgent, near angry little sound from him as you toyed tongue beneath the straining little sensitive line of frenulum beneath the head of his cock let you know the limits of teasing had been hit.  And once more you turned eyes upward, only to feel him tighten his grip upon your hair, the strained, sweet tugging burn coursing over your scalp in a centering little delicious burn of faint pain.

The look on his face had your thighs clench against each other hard.  Amber eyes gazing down from a face whose lovely angles made such a welcome seat for the bruised lust enthroned there.  Softly dark and dangerous, ravenously wanting in that thinly veiled way that looked so wonderfully devious in place of his usually guileless expression.

The warm, wet heat of your tongue flattened out, let the weight of his head just rest there before you sucked the tormenting tenderness of a wet little kiss off skin made slick by both the oozing beads of his own cum and your licking ministrations. 

“Do you want me?”  The words mumbled against the hot of his flesh pressed against your wetted lips.

He nodded and you frowned, the slight corkscrew spiral stroke of your hands slowing.  The genius finally caught the hint.

“Yes.”  The answer was breathy, molasses thick and dark.

“Just me?”

“Janna, yes.” You watched the heavy line of his brows tug in at their center as his knuckles pressed urgency at the back of your head. 

Lips parted as you pressed forward, holding his gaze unflinchingly as you let him into your mouth, watching his face, watching him come undone as he sank into the welcoming heat, until you had to let eyes drift shut as he nudged against the back of your throat.  One stilted swallow followed the repressed little shudder of a gag before you exhaled and opened in a slow relaxation that let him slide in as deep as you could take.

He tasted good, faintly bitter and sweat salt, clean and saturated with the heady, masculine scent that was just purely him.  So lost in the taste of him, in the feel of him filling your mouth, the weight of him against your tongue and lodged deep in your throat that you nearly missed the groaned, quiet noise he made above you a moment before the tug upon your hair insisted that you move.

Hands braced against lean thighs as you let him set the pace, let him use you, hollow cheeked and sucking hard, tongue a little curl around the sensitive heat of his head upon each withdraw.  Let him fuck your mouth at a languid pace that belied the urgency of how his hand in your hair was beginning to shake ever so slightly and the tension of thighs beneath your hands trembled with each little, restrained buck of his hips against the back of your throat.

The heated, weighted ache that had settled between your own thighs had you squirming, struggling to keep the balance on knees burning against the unforgiving hard floor.  If you could just drop one hand… slide it into the waistband of pants and-

“Viktor?”

Eyes flew open and a strangled little sound of shock and protest ripped from your throat as Viktor frantically yanked you off of himself with his grip of your hair, leaving tears welling reflexively at the sudden sharp burn of your scalp.

“Viktor?!”

Oh gods, oh fuck, oh no.  Jayce’s familiar voice and footsteps were approaching the open door to the stockroom too quickly to do anything about.  Viktor’s hands closed over your arms and heaved you upright, and in a second you were crushed full body against him, head tucked under his chin, face hidden from the door, the line of your body obscuring his state of arousal and undress.

“Vikto….ooooOH MY GODS.  OH JANNA.  Oh, I am.  I am so sorry.  Ha.  Oh, oh I’m sorry.  Hahaha uhh.  Sorry.”

You didn’t need to see Jayce standing in the doorway to know exactly how he’d reeled backward at the shock of finding his decidedly monk like, workaholic, staid introvert of a partner clearly in the throes of an illicit little fun in the lab, of all places.  Didn’t need to see him to guess at how he’d most likely slapped a hand over his own eyes, but was now more than likely also peering through the slats of two fingers at the disheveled pair of you.  At Viktor’s rumpled and opened shirt and all the darkening marks you’d peppered across throat and collarbone making it impossible to mistake what he’d stumbled upon for anything other than the dalliance it so clearly was.

Viktor’s arm tightened around you as you shoved the hot, mortified flush of your face into the safety of the crook of his far shoulder, clinging to him for dear life.

“What.  Did.  You.  Want.”  He asked, strained tone clipped and teeth clenched audibly.

“There’s a… gods I’m sorry.  It’s nothing.  The uh papers wanted a picture of us all, and uhm we got an invite to the councilors’ cocktail reception tonight… I’m gonna, I’ll uhm, meet you out there.”  Jayce’s voice trailed off as you could hear him back pedaling through the lab as he spoke until the slam of the outer door punctuated his departure.

The way the pair of you sagged against each other and groaned in unison might have been hilarious under any other circumstance.  As it was, it did have you each smiling ruefully, regretfully at one another in flitting glances that were shockingly shy given what you’d been doing not a moment before.  

His hands rose, cradled your head in a soothing touch as his mouth brushed your forehead, and for some reason that tenderness had you far more flustered than any of the filth that had just come before.

“Did I hurt you?  I’m sorry.”

“N-no.”  You offered up the white lie to save his concern, and accepted another soft kiss further up, against the tickle of your hairline before he released you.

It was clear, with how Viktor struggled himself back into his pants once you stepped back a touch, that going back to what you’d been doing was not on the menu.  And regret flooded eagerly in to fill the indent where all that sweet want had sat so deliciously heavy within.

“Viktor…”  You weren’t sure where to begin or where even that sentence would end as you stood there, tugging at the hem of your waistcoat.

He caught your face up instead, cupped cheeks in both hands and tilted you up into the hurried rush of a kiss before his forehead pressed to yours.

“Do you want to come to a party tonight with me, or would you rather stay home?  …Also with me.”  He added, quickly.  Brilliant idiot.

“I…”

“Let me know.  I have to go now.”  He bent, grabbed his tie, and caught his cane up off the shelf he’d hooked it to.  One last little stolen peck of a kiss burned warmly upon the apple of your cheek as he gifted you a slanting, reserved small smile on his way out the stockroom.

Left you to stand there, spinning while holding perfectly still, trying to sort out which way was up and what had just happened.  All that energy so ill spent in the last two weeks suddenly gone, leaving you feeling drained, empty save for the warm fluttering of confused excitement about how wrong you’d been. The glut of emotions was overwhelming, had you covering your face with both hands to exhale a silent scream.  

No, it hadn’t been a mistake.  Drunk and messy, yes, but not a mistake.  Oh oh gods, the marks you’d left on him!  The way you’d both been caught red-handed… 

No, no you had to get yourself together.  Get out of here, go outside, get lost in the crowd and ride out the confused elation and embarrassment and excitement surrounded by the distracting noise and crush of strangers.  No sooner had you hurriedly straightened yourself out and caught your breath, no sooner had you stepped out of the closet then you’d nearly walked face first into Viktor.

One more taste of his mouth in the rush of yet another hurried kiss as he caught your chin between thumb and the crook of forefinger.

“Please say you don’t want to go to that party.”  He begged breathlessly, crooked smile broad and eyes bright, as shocked, you shook your head in agreement.

“Good.  My place tonight?”

“Ye-yes ok.”

Sweet little thrill, to watch those fox-slanted golden eyes narrow in delight before he released you and hurried off, in so much as that gait let him hurry, only to stop by the doors and cast one more little hooking smile over a shoulder before he disappeared.

[sallysavestheday]

The blade fell with a musical clatter.

Surprise! A very belated reply, but it features our mutually-beloved semi-sentient woods as a consolation. :) Have a little Celegorm and Dior:

The blade fell with a musical clatter, the ringing of its edge against the stone just another note in the dirge that was building around them. It was the song of Dior's life leaving him – slipping away into the trees and the water and the stone in a steady, sorrowful flow. The forest would reclaim him: there would be no more dancing in Menegroth’s caves, no more lullabies, no more chasing cardinals in the snow. All the sweetness of the world he loved was tainted, now, with the tang of rust and rot; with the slick, sour heat of blood in the council chamber and the bitter sweat of the furious Noldo with whom he grappled and twined.

His mother had warned him, but he had not heeded her. The jewel in its intricate setting had shone too brightly around his neck – it had filled the corners where his certainty grew dim, glimmering and glamouring him into Elwë’s empty throne when his heart had felt far too small to fill it. He had needed that affirmation, near-stranger to the realm, uncertain of his heritage – still almost a child, though grown. But the Silmaril fed on life, as Lúthien had known. Some stain of the Iron Crown, or the ragged heart of its maker, still lingered in the gem, shattering its light into sharpness, giving everything it touched a slashing edge. And it called disaster to it, certain as the night – or else he would not be cornered in his own halls, ankle-deep in gore, with a killing wound in his side and a Fëanorian fist around his throat. Celegorm’s pale eyes held his, and the hunter grinned. “Hurts, doesn’t it, little king?” he laughed. “Knowing you can’t escape, or protect what is precious to you, or call your life your own?” Oh, he was fair, indeed: a twisted echo of the Calaquendi’s greatness. Lúthien had spoken of him – of his fine, bright face and the lucent silver of his hair. But words could not capture the bitterness that seeped from him, the acid of his frustration, his hunger and rage. Celegorm was burning in Dior’s desperate embrace, nearly certain of achieving his desire. “I will have it, sprat, whether you will it or no.” His breath was hot, his hand heavy and hard on Dior’s neck, where the gem had rested only moments ago. Dior counted in his head: steps to the storage rooms, to the tunnels, to the secret exit far away in the falling snow. Little legs could only run so fast, and Elwing had never condescended to be carried. Charged with the jewel’s safety, she would only be more stubborn and more proud. The fleeing company needed time. Well, then. He would give it to them. He was the forest's child, and love's, and death's. And he was King. Yes. He was King. With a last echo of his mother’s dancing grace, Dior spun and twisted, pinning his startled adversary beneath him as they fell. Clawing and bucking, Celegorm hissed. “It is not yours, you mongrel whelp of a forgotten Man; scion of a powerless king!” He battered Dior’s ribs where the blade had gone in. "Thief!! I will end you!" Dior only laughed, shuddering in time with Doriath’s tremors, conjuring the mist of Lúthien’s hair, the entangling filaments of Melian’s arms. Man he might be, and elf-kin as well, but his failing heart sparked with a Maia’s fire. What was death to him but the turn of a leaf? He was the deep wood; he was the dark wind howling. He was the stinging nettle and the poison berry, all the forest’s fury flowing and churning. His hands became green things: grasping roots and strangling vines. Under the wild weight of him, Celegorm could no more move than he could fly. Dior watched the fair face flinch beneath him as he smiled. Behind his bloodied lips, there were teeth upon teeth: in rows sharp as blades, all keen-edged and white. Celegorm’s throat was soft and sweet, in the clench of the dying boy-king's bite.

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