#alas i’m stronger than she

[pebblezone]

I think she would collect the minions McDonald’s toys

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Violence, suggestive content

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Two months. Two. Fucking. Months. Cassian shook his head, almost impressed.

Quite literally two fucking months. 

Cassian’s breath caught in his throat. He half-coughed, half-laughed up the wine he’d been drinking. Nesta thumped his back, a mischievous smirk plastered on her normally severe face. 

Rhysand had finally gotten word that you and Azriel would be arriving… well, anytime now. Everyone had piled onto the House of Wind’s roof to await your return, the taste of new gossip already in the air. 

Nesta lounged in Cassian’s lap, searching the horizon line for the tell-tale flicker of Azriel’s wings. Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor were too busy placing bets on which of the males — if any — would come out of the fight unscathed to stare at the sky. 

“Fifty on Azriel.” Emerie said without hesitation.

There was a clatter of coins. 

“I’ve got a good feeling about Helion. The paternal protectiveness might make him especially vicious.” Gwyn reasoned. 

“Brotherly protectiveness may prove just as strong. If not stronger.” Was Mor’s opinion. “Lucien and Helion both won against Azriel last time.” 

“Az wasn’t trying then.” Emerie argued back. “Sad male that he was.”

The father-son pair tried not to let their egos grow or be injured by the conversation happening so close by. Instead, they engrossed themselves in their third chess game of the morning. It was becoming rather tedious by now. Being the early risers — and overprotective males — that they were, they’d been waiting for hours in the training ring for the first sign of your return. 

Alas, nothing so far.

A spread of breakfast plates cluttered the table they played on, silverware stacked neatly on porcelain plates. Save for the knives. Those were kept in close reach.

Rhysand tried to join in on the game, but the two males refused him time and time again. They knew better than to play with a daemati. 

“Feyre, darling,” Rhys purred. “Won’t you indulge me?” 

She smirked, but slid into her chair beside Nesta and Cassian, and across from her mate. She folded her finger neatly beneath her chin, her wall of adamant strong and impenetrable. 

Rhys was about to make his first move — pawn to E4 — when a twinkle in Feyre’s eye told him they had visitors. 

Cassian stood up straighter, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face as he cupped his hand to his mouth and whooped.

A full house. You remarked as the House of Wind came into view above the city. Its red stone spires crawled into the sky. Reaching like outstretched fingertips.

The wind sang in your ears, ruffling your hair as you clung to Azriel. 

Lucky us. You teased.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw twitched at the flash of red hair and crown of black locs waiting on the roof. 

Helion and Lucien rose slowly, twin smirks gracing their lips as they started unclasping necklaces and tying back their hair. 

Is it too late to go back to the Cottage? Azriel growled, dropping to his feet on the House of Wind’s roof.

I’m afraid so. We’ve committed. 

You slowly untangled yourself from Azriel’s hold and planted both feet on solid ground. He caught your arm before you could stray too far, tugging you back to his side and wrapping a wing around your shoulders. 

“You’re baaaaaack!” Cassian sang, throwing his arm out in a gesture of welcome. “Gods have we missed you both. You especially, Y/n. You look lovely. The mating bond suits you.” 

He winked seductively, blowing a kiss in your direction. 

Azriel figured Cassian could do without his remaining arm. 

“I hope Azriel sufficed for your first time.” Rhysand chimed in. His voice was liquid velvet. By now, Azriel had gone stone still — a dangerous look for the Shadowsinger. “But if you’re ever interested in sampling better fares, Cassian and I—” 

Helion slammed into Azriel’s side before he could reach Rhysand, wrapping his powerful arms around Azriel’s middle and throwing him across the room where Lucien waited with fist pulled back. 

Remember what we talked about. 

Azriel was slippery and cool as he wove in and out between Helion and Lucien’s bodies. He threw out a collection of strikes that had blood splattering on the ground.

Nothing permanent. He growled.

Thank you. 

“Did you see that?” Rhysand looked aghast as he settled deep into his seat. “He was going to hit me!” He flipped his cane end over end. 

“He has no honor, brother.” Cassian agreed. But both had to admit, there was some satisfaction in getting to watch the fight instead of participating in it. 

You slunk around the edges of the training ring, trying to avoid getting too close to the tumble of bodies that were being thrown around like rag dolls. 

It would seem there was someone else trying to escape notice.

You blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here, High Lord?” 

Eris Vanserra leaned against a stone pillar, foot propped up against the wall as he swirled a glass of wine between bejeweled fingers. Aside from the gold glittering on his knuckles and along his ears, he was dressed like a commoner. His brown riding boots were well-worn with love and his shirt was left open at the top to reveal scarred and freckled skin. He chuckled when Lucien slammed his fist into the side of Azriel’s face with a growl that rattled the columns.

“None of that High Lord business.” He said, swatting the air like the very term offended him. “Call me Eris.” He smiled sideways at you, never taking his full attention off the fight. “Lucien asked me to come as backup, and I would never pass up the opportunity to help my brother,” he glanced down at you and cocked his head to the side, “And my sister.” 

“Is that what we are now? Siblings?”

He shrugged. “We always did want a girl in the family.” 

You were about to ask who Eris meant by “we” when there came a loud bang. 

Azriel held the shattered legs of a chair and Lucien kneeled on the ground, spitting splinters from his mouth. 

“You’re doing your brotherly duty wonderfully.” Your words were drier than a desert. 

Helion came to Lucien’s aide and used those powerful legs of his to drop kick Azriel in the chest and crack a rib… or two. 

“I’m also here for the entertainment.” Eris winked. 

When he turned back to the fight, Azriel was already staring at him, and he was livid. 

“Ahhhh, that’s my cue.” He tousled your hair, earning a roar from Azriel as Lucien and Helion latched onto his arms and held the Shadowsinger back. “We’ll talk again later.” 

He sauntered over to the trio, reared back his fist, and punched Azriel in the stomach. 

Nesta waved you over from her spot at the table with Gwyn, Emerie, Mor, and Feyre. It was a safe enough distance away from the brawl, even if the glasses shook every time a body hit the floor. 

“Leave the males to their fighting and eat. You must be starved.” Nesta slid over a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast slathered in a healthy amount of butter. 

You hated that Nesta was right. The frenzy had left you with little patience for eating most days. You descended upon the food. 

Gwyn was still watching the males. There was a strange fascination in her eyes as Helion spit out a mouthful of blood and Azriel punched Eris in the teeth. “I wonder how many wars could have been prevented if the males simply gathered in a room with their right hands and a ruler.” 

Emerie snorted. “I reckon at least ten.” 

Gwyn shook her head. “So.” She turned her attention to you and leaned in close. “How was it?” She did not speak the words quietly.

You blushed through a mouthful of eggs. “It was… very nice.” 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Nesta shook her head so many times that flyaway strands of blonde hair escaped her coronet. “How was it?”

Cassian moved in close, resting his head on Nesta’s shoulder. “We want details.” 

“Oh, stay out of this, Cass.” 

The Lord of Bloodshed huffed when Feyre enclosed the females in a wall of silent air. He settled for laying his head against Nesta’s back, feeling the vibrations of her body as she spoke.  

“We do want details. Spare us nothing.” 

The females hovered, breaths held in their chests for every salacious detail you were certain to tell. Their excitement made them forgetful of one very important fact — you had always been, and likely always would be, very private.

You looked at Feyre and swallowed. “We um… We broke the windows at the Cottage and need them replaced.” 

The females blinked. 

“Which ones?” Feyre asked, arching a dark brow. 

Azriel smiled at you from across the training ring, a trickle of blood spilling out from the corner of his lips as he wrestled Eris to the ground with his legs locked around the redhead’s neck. 

“All of them.” 

It was near noon when the fighting started, and the males still hadn’t ceased though the sun had set hours ago.

You walked onto the roof smothered in one of Azriel’s sweaters to escape the air’s chilly bite. This high up the mountains, the wind always whisked away heat like the sea to sand. 

Scraps of fabric littered the ground. Bloodstains lay sprinkled across stone floors like salt. It was all to be expected after a mating frenzy, and it did not surprise you that Azriel had kept up with your father and brothers for so long, but, enough was enough. You wanted your mate back.

“Ahem,” You coughed loudly. 

Azriel’s eyes flickered to you before you even opened your mouth. He had felt your presence before you’d even walked up the stairs and stepped onto the training mats. 

My love. He sighed.

Eris got the last swing in, but he missed the Shadowsinger by a half-margin. Poor Lucien, who’d been holding back Azriel’s arm, got a fistful of gold rings instead.

Lucien’s head snapped back. “What the fuck, Eris?!” He stood grasping at his nose. Blood spilled out from between his fingers. 

Eris winced. “Sorry, little brother.” 

You made another little noise and the males shoved each other away, bodies sweaty and bloodstained. Eris’s shirt was ripped to shreds, barely hanging onto his narrow shoulders as he wiped the blood from his lips and grinned like a fox. Helion was missing a nose ring and the top tip of his ear. A bruise sprouted along Lucien’s cheeks courtesy of his brother. 

But Azriel? The only evidence he carried of the fight was the thin line of dried blood between his lips. It was not unpleasant to look upon.

Less than ten seconds ago they’d been at each other's throats with tooth and nail. But as males were ought to do, once the fight was over they were quick to grumble half-hearted compliments and began picking jewelry and abandoned blades off the floor.

Azriel tipped his head towards you in the smallest of bows. When you held out your hand for him, he didn’t even bother walking to close the distance between you two. He winnowed directly to your side.

About time you finished. I’m ready for bed and I’d like to have my mate beside me.

I like it when you call me that. I like it when you call me yours.

You smiled softly at him, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. You didn’t think you’d ever tire of smiling at his hazel eyes. 

You looked to the rest of your family. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t pretend to worry about us, dear Y/n.” Eris snorted. The smirk on his face was a friendly one, highlighting his handsome, but impish, features as he gathered his cloak from the corner of the room. He swung it around his shoulders, magically repairing his clothes with a flutter of red velvet. “We’re fine. And I would never pass up an opportunity to go toe-to-toe with the Shadowsinger.” He winked at Azriel, who only scowled in return. 

That scowl turned into a barred teeth snarl when Eris brushed past you both.

His warm, amber eyes betrayed what you already knew from that brief moment of contact before he went off to his room — he hadn’t been lying when he said they always wanted a girl in the family. 

“Goodnight, sister.” Lucien said, kissing your forehead. It took everything in Azriel not to pummel Lucien once more. Your brother’s eyes flickered up to the Shadowsinger. “And congratulations on your mating bond. Truly.” 

You mouthed the words, Thank you, before accepting a final goodnight embrace from your father. 

“It’s good to have you back.” He smoothed back your hair. Then Helion clicked his tongue and thumped Azriel on the shoulder. “Greedy little Shadowsinger. Keeping my daughter away for two months.” He shook his head in mock disappointment.

The pair soon disappeared down the hallway leaving you and Azriel to linger in the night’s silence alone.

The corner of Azriel’s mouth twitched — the only sign he was in any pain when you gently brushed against his ribs. 

You smirked. It would seem that your family members had done a number on the Shadowsinger. He’d just been hiding it beneath layers of leather and male pride. What a shame that the females’ bets had been for nothing.

My Y/n, whose side are you on? He asked as you began unbuckling the gauntlets on his arms. Piece by piece, leather armor fell to the ground as steam curled up into the air. It never failed to amaze you how large Illyrian tubs were—and how long they took to fill. 

I’m on both your sides.

That is a very noncommittal answer. 

It’s a very judicious answer. 

Azriel smiled, cheeks brushing against yours as he kissed the curve of your ear. I do agree you are anything if not sensible. 

Azriel hummed in satisfaction as the last of his Illyrian leathers dropped to the floor. You knelt beside the tub, pouring in a concoction of oils as Azriel stretched out his wings. It was easy to admire the curve of his neck and the muscles of his back as his wings flexed open and close. 

When he was deep beneath the waters, eucalyptus and lavender opening up his lungs, he asked you to clean his wings. It was heaven whenever you touched them. Your soft fingertips seemed to hold all the power in the world — the power to light his blood aflame like whiskey or to soothe him like a sleep draught. Tonight your touch was peaceful as he wrapped his mind around the bond and felt your souls melt and mix like gold. 

This is to be our lives now. Azriel reminded himself once again. 

You buried yourself beneath the covers and made a little noise of contentment that never failed to make his chest grow warm. 

It is. You agreed. Would you like me to remind you? 

It was a pattern of words you’d grown used to while at the Cottage. Azriel would marvel at the mating bond—the peace that came with it—and you would take to carefully kissing the expanse of his chest, his neck, his collarbones, until there wasn’t an inch of skin that hadn’t been painted by your gentle lips. 

You began that ritual now, winding your way up his chest and ending at his eyelids. Black eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you finished performing the magic that was your love and devotion. 

I love you, Azriel. You reminded him. You would remind him of that truth every day of your lives. 

I love you too, Y/n. I adore you. 

You settled into his side and Azriel draped a wing around your shoulders in a move that was as natural as breathing now. Heads bowed together, shadows curled close by, and scarred hands met scarred skin as he traced the curve of your spine.

The Shadowsinger and the Inkbird. 

Together. 

As they were always meant to be.

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Author's Note:

This is the last chapter before the epilogue y'all. I don't think I can say anything right now because it feels weird to be saying goodbye to this story so... I guess I'll save my thoughts and emotions for another time...

[leonw4nter]

Hold Me, Hold Me, I'm Your Bunny

RE2R!Leon x F!Reader AU

“It’s cold, rookie. Go put on a jacket,” Marvin tells Leon.

His superior isn’t wrong; the night had turned out to be a bit more chilly than Leon had anticipated, which prompted him not to bring a jacket or coat– not that this bothered him; he didn’t get cold easily and acted as a walking heater to anyone who wanted to feel a little warm and fuzzy.

“I’m fine, sir. Thank you,” he responds with a tired smile.

Ever the gentleman that he is, a gloved hand flies up to cover his mouth as he yawns, a small puff of steam billowing out of his mouth. As much as he loves his job, there’s no place he’d rather be than at home with his girl, cuddling and joining the rest of the world in dreamland but alas here he is– duty calls. Calloused fingers threaded through strands the color of wheat, slightly causing his usually neat hair to appear slightly fluffy. He turns his head, summer sky blues trained in the vast darkness to look out for any threat that he could quell. He does this for about an hour or two– or four… or five. He lost count, distracted by the biting cold that slowly started to settle in his bones. Pink settled in Leon’s cheeks and the tips of his ears, adding color like watercolor to a blank canvas; goosebumps rose on his arms and on the back of his neck, jaw clenching to keep his teeth from chattering. He did his best to look as if the cold wasn’t causing him some discomfort, only rubbing his hands together for warmth every now and then. 2:45 AM, his black sports watch reads. “She’s probably asleep by now,” he fondly thinks as the corners of his lips curl skyward. “At least she’s warm and cozy,” he wistfully adds, the feeling of his body craving sleep growing even stronger with each passing moment.

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7:35 AM, he finally gets to head home after a long and cold night; he feels odd, a lot more susceptible to getting cold. The patrol car’s air conditioning felt several degrees colder, even if neither he nor Marvin changed the temperature and he felt a lot tired. After shifts like that, he always felt tired but this kind of exhaustion is different; it’s like his body weighed a lot more and he felt a headache slowly crawl up on him. He blamed these odd sensations on not drinking enough water, gaze falling on the thermos his girlfriend bought him as a reminder to hydrate often. He takes the bottle and drinks from it, dampening his dry throat only for his throat to feel a lot weirder and the water making him feel slightly nauseous. Marvin picks up on Leon’s sudden paleness, a frown placed on his chapped lips.

“Rookie, you alright? You don’t look like your usual self right now,” Marvin observes. Stopping at a red light he takes the opportunity to look at Leon, the rookie leaning against the corner near the door and shivering, rubbing his hands together to  try and stay warm.

“Yeah. Just… a little cold… and tired,” Leon responds, flashing him a tiny smile, an attempt to downplay what he thinks is a fever going on. Regret on not bringing a coat or jacket sets in, knowing his error will cause his girl to worry for him on top of all the workload she already has.

“You sure, kid? You don’t look too good right now,” Marvin adds.

“Promise, L.T. It’s just been a long night,” Leon reassures.

They finally arrive at the station, Leon’s head spinning slightly since he got carsick from the overwhelming sensations in the car ride back to the precinct to gather his things before clocking out only to groan when he realizes he has to use a car to get back home as well. Grabbing his backpack, he waves the officers bye and heads out. Even with the sun’s rays not fully beaming down on the slowly waking world, he squints his eyes and closes them for a bit, finding it too bright. With a tired sigh and a silent prayer that he doesn’t collapse from exhaustion on the way home, he walks over to the side of the road and waits for a cab to come and pick him up whilst also fighting the urge to hunch over at the sidewalk and hurl.

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He finally reaches home, resisting the urge to doze off on the floor within minutes of unlocking the front door. With a groan, he hobbles over to the medicine cabinet and takes some Advil before heading up the stairs. He forces himself to take a quick shower to cool himself off before grabbing some plaid pajama bottoms and a worn out gray sweater from the police academy. He draws the curtains, slides into bed and huddles under the sheets before turning his body to face your side of the bed, inching his face nearer to your pillow and inhaling the scent of your coconut shampoo. Just before he decides to take a nap, he takes his phone and sends you a message saying that he’s home. Even with the curtains already drawn he still finds the day too bright for his delicate eyes so he pulls the duvet over his head, closing his eyes and eventually falling asleep.

You get home to a dark and silent apartment, the lack of Leon anywhere throwing you off. Closing the door, you drop your bag off at the couch before heading upstairs to the bedroom. “Honey?,” You call out. At first you don’t get a response but you do hear a low groan coming from the bedroom. You finally reach the door and push it open to be met with the faint warm glow of your bedside lamp and your boyfriend huddled nicely in the sheets. He shoots you a small grin but you know something is up with him with the way he doesn’t get up and practically lunge at you for a hug.

“Sick,” he quietly says, readjusting his position again and pats your spot beside him. You walk over to the side of the bed and place the back of your hand against his forehead to feel for his temperature. You leave his side for a few minutes, only to come back with a thermometer. After double checking his temperature, you finally confirm that he has a fever. “How’d you get sick?,” you ask him as you pat his fluffy hair. “Stood out in the cold from 10 PM to 7 AM, no jacket,” he sheepishly says. His response earns a small frown from you, going off into a lecture about how he should’ve brought something to keep him warm because the temperatures are a lot more extreme these days to which he nodded and mumbled an “mhm”. You place a small kiss on his forehead, telling him that you’ll make dinner for the both of you before getting in bed to cuddle with him. He nods and smiles, probably the brightest smile he could muster for today before turning over and dozing off again.

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“Dinner’s ready,” you softly say in a sing-song voice as you bring in rice porridge on a tray, along with a bowl of cut-up fruit, and a glass of water. You set the tray down before helping Leon sit up, propping the pillows up on his back so he’d be cozy. You drag a chair beside him, waiting for him to take the bowl and start eating but he doesn’t.

“Why aren’t you eating yet?,” you ask.

“Can you feed me? Please?,” he asks as he shoots you the most kicked puppy dog eyes ever. He takes his hands together in prayer position, mumbling please and saying something along the lines of letting the patient have complete rest.

“God, you’re so cringe,” you scoff but you still decide to grab the bowl and give him spoons full of the porridge. Your boyfriend can be a bit silly sometimes but it’s why you love him. He takes a large bite, a pleased hum coming from him as he swallows down the food. “Taste good?,” you ask which he responds to with a smile and a thumbs-up. While Leon’s still got some porridge in his mouth, you take the time to contact his superior about Leon’s sick leave for two to three days.

“Umm, hi. I’m Y/N, Leon’s girlfriend and I called because he’s going to be on sick leave for two to three days, he came down with a fever so I hope you’d understand,” you say to the phone.

Leon simply looks at you with a slight look of surprise in his eyes; he already mentally noted that he’d call up Marvin later on after his dinner but turns out his thoughtful girlfriend had beat him to it. Looking up from his bowl, he keeps his gaze on you as you converse with Marvin, his heart thumping in his chest whenever you smile. The call went on for a few minutes before it finally ended, walking back to Leon’s side only to see his bowl finished.

“Your boss sounded a little surprised to hear that you’ve got a girlfriend,” you shyly say with a giddy grin. Leon laughs softly, running his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, I don’t talk about you a lot at work– not- not because I don’t love you or a-anything, no– it’s, well, you know–,” he stammers which causes you to smile sweetly with your eyes squinting slightly and he swears he just fell in love all over again.

“I don’t have um– l-lots of y’know– friends at the station– there’s only Marvin,” he finally finishes. He realizes he sounds a lot like his pre-girlfriend self from when he first decided to ask you out on a date, back when eye contact with you and a simple graze of your fingers got his system undergoing a factory reset (not that things have changed: he’s still having factory resets from when you touch him).

“Well, I should stop by at work when you get back and I dunno– maybe get you lunch and kiss you in front of everyone,” you joke as you take his hand and place a kiss.

“God I need to get well soon,” he responds. He looks a lot less miserable now but still very much feverish.

“Hey I meant that as a joke–,” you say.

“Nuh-uh,” he says as he waves his pointer finger in front of you. “You need to keep your word or else I’ll be sad.”

“Fine, fine but only because I love you,”

“I love you more.”

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Soon, it’s time for bed and you get into the sheets with him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling your face into the nook of his neck.

“Baby you’re going to get sick too if you’re too close to me,” he softly says as he pats your hair.

“That’s not so bad if you get to take care of me,” you softly respond with a smile before placing a tender kiss on his neck. He shifts his position so now he’s the smaller spoon and you get to hold him like a stuffed animal. A pleased sigh could be heard under his breath as one hand strokes his back and gives him a soft pat while the other strokes his hair. “It’s not so bad being sick,” he happily thinks to himself– not that you don’t take care of him, of course you do, but the experience of being taken care of when he’s unable to care for himself brings a comfortable feeling of assurance that you’ll be right by him when things get rough; you’ll be there for him as a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, an umbrella underneath the pouring rain, and a warm drink on a chilly night.

With your care and constant reminder to take pills and drink water, he managed to get better after two days and is clear to get back to work (bringing along a coat with him, of course; you’d flip if he got sick due to being out in the cold again). The brightness of his eyes have returned and he’s back to being the golden retriever, greeting everyone a ‘good morning’ before settling his things down at his desk and working on papers that piled up while he was gone. Stretching his fingers and grabbing a pen from a cup in his desk he takes a sheet and starts signing and going through reports whilst sipping his coffee, very much in a good mood. Marvin decided to let him work on reports first and not start patrolling around since he just got back from a fever and deemed it best that he shouldn’t move around just yet. After working for several hours straight he finally finishes his workload, just needing to file these reports away– the only task left before Marvin hands him a new set. Stretching his lower back and rolling his shoulders, he grabs his coat and wallet to head out and grab lunch.

“Officer Kennedy please report to the front desk,” the intercom blares. With a slightly frustrated sigh, he mentally prepares himself that he might have to skip out on lunch as he heads to where he’s needed.

“Good noon, ma’am– Baby!” he happily exclaims. His entire face brightens up and he beams brightly, running over to you and pulling you in for a tight hug as he rocks you from side to side. After a bone-crushing hug, he pulls away but he keeps his hands on your waist.

“It’s so good to see you. What are you doing here?,” he asks. His blue eyes were like waters, his gaze pulling you under and deeper into the spell he cast on you.

“Lunch. Kept my promise from days ago just like you wanted.”

“So… I’ll finally get that kiss in front of others?”

“Maybe. If you want–”

“I do want it so… come here.” Leon says with a cocky smirk as he pulls you in for a tender kiss.

NOTE - If this is a little bad then I'm really sorry because this fic has been marinating in my docs for 2 weeks now and I kinda lost the idea mid-write so... yeah (I also finished this fic during math class because the question I got for an activity is so damn DIFFICULT-- KILLING MYSELF I HATE MATH I HATE THIS SHIT SO BAD FUCK MATH). Anyways, I'll try to write for RE4R!Leon soon-- I just love RE2R!Leon a lil tew much hihi ;) The title is taken from a lyric in a song called "Puppy Princess". I'll be busy in the next coming weeks so I won't be posting a lot. I'm going to try and make my fics look a lot more cute soon so ermm yeah that's it!! I hope you really liked it :) (also I ordered Leon photocards saur... the horrors are endless but I stay silly)

The dividers (lace and ribbon respectively) are from @plutism and @baefleurs , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[bookofbonbon]

the ground beneath our feet - aemond targaryen.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!reader (third person - no name used).

Warnings: Mention of suicide. Angst.

Summary: Your relationship with Aemond has fallen apart as the war wages on and you remain his prisoner.

Prompts: My love for you is as firm as the ground we stand on (Mary & George 2024).

Word Count: 863.

The hem of her dress dragged heavily across the darkened sand. The treacherous sea binding itself to the satin material as it rose to the bottom of her calves, reaching higher and higher as the tide came in. Each step harder than the last as her bare feet sunk further into the unsteady ground. With the shore disappearing, every new current was stronger than the last and threatened to drag her under if she wasn’t careful. 

But careful she was. Though she loved the sea as every Velaryon before her and now has, death by drowning was not high on her list of ways to die. Although, in times - such as right now - when she found herself under the steady gaze of her estranged husband, she wondered if she might let the sea consume her out of spite. Alas, it was too late as sand turned to stone beneath her feet.

Beginning her barefoot ascent to Dragonstone, she walked carefully as she made her way back to the looming castle, weary of the deep cracks in the foundation as the stone crumbled and created an uneven ground of the eroding path.

Careful more so, however, of the Targaryen Prince awaiting her company on the first landing of many. 

“Must you come out here every day?” Aemond drawls once she is within ear shot. 

Quick to anger, she feels her ears grow hot as her head snaps up from the ground. Gaze finally meeting that of the man who insisted on stalking her every move. Not once could he allow her to suffer his presence in silence. There was always something to be said. 

“Must you follow me out here every day? I’m not a child, you need not watch over me as if I am one.”

Her fury however, is met with indifference as Aemond regards her coolly. The one-eyed Prince having grown accustomed to her anger-fuelled outbursts at him- of course, that didn’t make them hurt any less. But, she was predictable and always ready to be angry with him and despite his efforts, there was no balm he could give to soothe it. So, if her anger remained the one thing that she would give then Aemond would take as much of it as he could get.  

“Had you not gotten into the habit of wading further and further into the sea, gazing longingly upon its depths as if you may opt into disappearing into it at any given moment then perhaps I would not feel the need to supervise you as if you were one.” 

There's a beat of silence. A flicker of hurt in her now glassy eyes that she tries to wash away with a thick swallow that Aemond tracks with his one good eye. He didn't like her hurt, he didn't want her pain.

“So, the sooner you begin acting within reason, the sooner you will be left to your own devices. It really is that simple,” he finishes in the hopes of raising her temper but, it does more of the opposite. 

She visibly flinches, Aemond’s dismissiveness of her suffering hitting the soft spot in the back of her throat. 

"Is it?" The question catches him by surprise, his back straightening as he stares unblinking at her. She hadn't endeavoured to ask him anything more than a mocking retort of his own questions since the war started but, there was a sincerity to her voice that demanded an answer. "Is it really that simple?"

“It is.”

Another beat as she silently regards him. 

“Do you love me still?” 

Aemond’s eyebrows furrow, scar pulling inward from the motion as he takes offense at the question. 

“Still? I never stopped. My love for you has always been as firm as the ground we stand on. It is yo-”

“So if you claim to love me so, then am I your prisoner or am I your guest?”

“Guest,” he speaks too fast, lying without thinking. 

“Guest?" she smiles sadly. "Guests may leave as they please, so can I? Can I leave as I please?”

Aemond’s throat dries. The question hangs heavy in the space between them as he flounders for something to say, mouth agape but no sound coming out; the winds whistle and the crashing of the waves the only thing to be heard.

“Answer me, Aemond.” 

The shake of his head is slight but not un-noticeable. 

Aemond didn’t want her pain but it is all he got as it spills over and onto her cheeks.

"I take no pleasure in your captivity," Aemond tells her softly.

But then a sound, a sound he had not heard for a long time - a laugh. It’s slight and it's broken and it's watery and one clearly reserved only for herself but, a laugh nonetheless as she gestures to the ground around them. 

At the deep cracks in the foundation, at the fragile stones that bowed and bent and broke and created an uneven and unstable ground of the eroding path with each passing day.

“Look around you, Aemond,” she sighs. The same sad smile stretched across her lips. “The ground is not firm, it has crumbled beneath our very feet.”

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

[s-sugustar]

Your heroes — 𝒟．𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 , 𝒥．𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝

🎧﹒synopsis ﹒✢﹐— Should've left her in my care, this wouldn't have happened if you did. — 𝒟．𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧

🎧﹒pairings ﹒✢﹐— Yandere! Red Hood x blk!fem reader x Yandere! Nightwing

🎧﹒content warning ﹒✢﹐— dark content, drug usage, smut, dub-con, power play if you squint hard enough, impact play, spitting, choking, degradation

🎧﹒author's notes ﹒✢﹐— had this in my drafts for ages since i had been a bit skeptical about posting it but here it is.

🎧﹒wc ﹒✢﹐— 3.1k

“D’aww, look Jay. She’s drooling.” Grayson concedes, his hips pushing further and further into while his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing both sides from time to time. Jason struggled against the ropes as he watched Grayson mercilessly pound into you. The whining and tiredness in your voice had caught Grayson mid-way; stopping you from reaching your climax. “Is the baby tired?” he seethed, pulling you up by the neck to stop you from slumping over onto the bed.

Screeching in pain, the squinting of your eyes and the muffled sounds of your screams had been enough for Jason to wince. Everything was hurting and he knew that but there was nothing he could do. His limbs were like jello and his energy was gone; all because of some poison Grayson had thrown at him when he tried to stop Grayson from entering his apartment. 

“Babe, you know the rules. You go to work, and you come straight back home, y’hear me?” Jason muttered, giving you a light kiss on the lips before placing one on your forehead before putting the metal helmet on. You really wished he didn’t have to lead this type of life; you wanted him to settle down for a bit, so you begged. Every single time he bid you goodbye at 2 in the morning, you always had something to say about staying home with you.

Regardless of how you put it each time, his answer had been the same regardless. “Gotta provide for you and f’me baby. Gotham needs to be at peace once in a while.” The end part being a joke to cheer you up or in hopes of making you laugh but that never happened. Staying quiet seemed like the best option every single time after the very first time you brought it up. 

To say it in the easiest way is best. Jason is paranoid; a bit too in over his head but his paranoia comes from years of battling against Batman and the fear of the Joker finding him once again and stripping him of everything, only this time, he feared it would be you with the aches of being hit with a crowbar.

After his resurrection, Jason bulked to say the least. His confidence hadn’t been there but he was stronger than before and he knew for a certainty that he would have a better chance at protecting you than before. Hiding away in the most grimy places in Gotham was his best alternative at this point. 

After becoming Red Hood, many of the districts fell under him as he ranked up. Unfortunately, he had a run-in with the one and only Batman, and to say that it ended in the most gruesome way possible was an understatement. Oh, no one was injured gravely, but the feelings that had been pent up for years had come all undone. 

“Jason, I’m sorry.” It took three words for the young boy to fall to his knees in tears. After all that he had been through, he still cherished the man that left him to die. Oh what a pity. But alas, had it only been the Bruce and Grayson that had been in mourning? Dear God no. Had anyone think to check on Y/n, who had been Jason’s best friend? Grayson sure did. He had to be the one to keep her going after she heard the news.

The pain, the torment, the nightmares day in and out. It was a lot for Y/n to keep on going but Grayson made it better. During that time of need, Grayson stayed by your side through everything. He was your shoulder to cry on, the one who made you laugh till your stomach aches. He was your everything and all in one when Jason couldn’t have been. 

“You know I’ll never leave you right?”  Grayson questioned, he peered down at you with a sullen look in his eyes, his fingers grazing the sides of your face.You fell asleep not too long ago, your head perched on a pillow with your head resting against Grayson’s arm. He knew that you wouldn’t have answered him, you had an extremely long day and with today being the 2 year anniversary of Jason’s death casting your light down even further than it was.

Bruce hadn’t been around you much, guilt filled his heart whenever he saw you so he chose to stay away. Grayson on the other hand, he knew that you lost the one who truly understood you, who had been there through thick and thin. Although Jason meant everything to you, Grayson held a piece of your heart as a dear beloved friend. 

To say that Grayson hadn’t felt a little bad that he was a bit glad that Jason had been gone was quite the understatement. He felt some sort of joy to see the way your eyes watered and your lips quivering before you had a full-blown breakdown. The heaving and small sniffles that came from you whilst Grayson soothed you made his heart do flips.

Now, Grayson was a sadist in any form or fashion but the way you looked, so vulnerable, so heartbroken, God did it do some things to him. Maybe it won't be a breakdown next time, maybe you'll be under him squirming and squealing as thrusts his dick into you. His plan was in place, all he needed was to wait for the right moment.

Silence filled the room as you looked straight ahead of you, shock written all over your face. You couldn't move, you dearly wish you could've in this moment but how could you when the one you thought was dead stood boldly in front of you, a metal bodice surrounding his form and a metal mask in hand. "Jason?" was the only thing that fell from your lips as you drank in the boy or well man that stood before you.

Red had always been his favorite color from young; you never forgot. His eyes seemed distant; his stance wasn't as before. Rigid and hollow, many walls built for the sake of his sanity and maybe yours but in this moment, all of that crumbled when he spoke. "I came back. I came back. . . . .for you." All the love that had been shared between the two of you came rushing in like a tidal wave, breaking whatever strong force that tried to pull it back.

Grayson laid on the floor, bruised and bleeding; his mouth pooling with the taste of metal and the sight of red on the pavement. He cursed heavily before pulling himself up, his head against the nearest wall as he held his abdomen in pain. "That stupid red mask." He found his way home, easing through the open window, maybe a bounce in his step to see you.

A burning sensation rang through his jaw but that didn't stop him from calling out to you. Yet, he was met with silence. Odd. Usually you would have your arms wrapped around his torso, completely unaware of the wounds he had until a wince fell from his lips making you completely aware of his wounds before apologizing. "Hey munchkin, this isn't the time to play hide and seek with me. I'm hurt and I need your company right now."

Yet no response, again. Maybe you were asleep. With his head, he peeked into the room, quietly surveying it before slipping in ever so quietly. "Baby, stop heading from m-." "She's not hiding from you, she's gone." Nightwing sneered, wincing as he turned to face the one with a metal helmet coated in red with white lenses stared back at his broken body.

His hand balled into a fist before speaking, blood pooling in his mouth. "Where did you take her? Where the hell did you take her Red Hood?" A deep rumble emitted from his throat, his eyes squinting as he stalked towards the bigger man. Yet he didn't make it far as the barrel of a gun found refuge between his eyes, the metal was cold and hard since Red Hood pressed it harder against the skull of Nightwing.

"You come after her, I put a bullet in between your eyes, Grayson." The name fell from Jason's lips with much hatred and malice but with the built in modulator it was hard for Nightwing to understand the emotions behind what he had said. With a pregnant pause, Red Hood gave Nightwing one last look before going out through the window. Nightwing grunted in anger and in pain but stood in his place for a couple of minutes. He'll get you back, one way or another.

"Sugar, you know I love you too much but I can't let you out. I'm sorry." Jason reasoned, it had been almost a year since he scooped you up from Grayson and you loved every bit of it but you felt caged. You couldn't leave the apartment, orders of Jason Todd. Sure, he had his reasons, but you wanted out. No, you needed to get out.

Seeing the same four walls day in and day out started to make you lose your mind and you couldn't afford to do that right now: not to Jason anyways. He had been through too much for you to act out and start whining over not being able to leave the house. Maybe it was for the best. Just like what Grayson used to say.

Grayson, Richard Grayson or well Dick as he wished you to call him. Boy was he some character. His worrisome state and his constant clinginess had been enough for you. You knew he meant well but sometimes you felt if there had been some sort of kick he was getting out of this.

You knew he meant well but sometimes you could feel something more sinister and darker, something he wasn't saying or well doing. Shaking your head from such perilous thoughts, you switched through channels trying to find some that would catch your attention.

A few hours later, you fell into sleepy state, your eyes shutting but blinking back to life to stay focused on the movie that had been playing. What did seem to catch your attention was the loud thunk that echoed from a room in the corridor. You sat up looking towards the hallway patiently waiting for Jason to appear.

Glancing over at the digital clock that showed 2:14 a.m. in bright red colors, it was around this time that Jason would normally get home but seeing that he didn't appear yet, you went to investigate. You peered into the training room, calling out to him. but you saw nothing, the only other room there had been the one both you and Jason slept in, so you headed there. You pushed open the door, a curious look upon your face when you saw that he hadn't been in there either, maybe something fell.

Now, you weren't one to be paranoid, but you felt goosebumps rise against your skin and the hairs on the back of your neck rising. You were being watched. At times like this, you wish Jason had trained you in some sort of hand-to-hand combat, something you could fight with, but he left you helpless, like a doll without blemishes, perched in a high place just to look pretty and keep up appearances. So caught up in the pretenses of the happy life you lived and the one you longed for, you weren't able to sense the light steps that followed behind you so in esseence, you were an easy target.

Yelping in pain, you grabbed the side of your head from the place where you had been hit and at the same time, you turned to see the culprit, but instead of meeting a face, your eyes met the hard plywood within the apartment; splotches of black covering your sight. Soon enough, you were out cold and left in the hands of the culprit.

A sheer gasp fell from your lips as some strong force from behind. Wrapping their dominant hand around your waist and one hand gripped against your mouth. You tried to scream and hit them at the same time but all failed when the perpetrator tightened their grip on your waist and squeezed the flesh of your jaw, nails and the fabric on their hands digging into your skin.

"C'mon sweetheart, don't be like that to poor little Grayson." Your eyes widen in fear when a voice you could never forget sounded from behind you, but you weren't so shaken by the fact that Grayson had been pounding you whilst you slept but the fact that Jason had been tied to a chair, eyes wide open and staring right at you.

Brusies of all shapes and colors decorated his skin, more so the black eye that was starting to form. It was only then that you realized he had been gagged with some sort of sheer material from what you could see.

Then you saw the watery look in his eyes, was it because of the bruises, maybe so. That had been your first guess since it couldn't possibly be that he was crying, was he? With the little energy you had left, you twisted and turned your arm to loosen the grip that had been around it before you snatched it away, reaching towards Jason with a soft wail leaving your lips as you tried to reach him.

Alas, but Grayson had been attentive. Although caught up in filling you up with his cum and making sure Jason knew you were his, he pulled back your wrist, a tighter grip than before, wrenching it back in the same position, not caring if he had hurt you in the moment.

"You pull away from me again and I will break both your arms, understand?" Fear enveloped your entire body, but you still nodded, not wanting to anger the man any further. Maybe it had been your body that made you fall into the deep end. Panting at the surge of pleasure that flew through you as Grayson thrusted against your hips; the slick fabric rubbing against your skin every time he moved. The grip on your hips maybe have been tight but it felt good, really good. You weren't the only one who felt good in this moment though, the sane yet needy body that had been ravishing you from behind felt the shift in your stance.

Your arch deepened and your moans and whines felt more eased than strained; you were finally started to like it and that made Grayson excited. Yet on the other hand, Jason was furious; fingers deeply caved into his palms, he wouldn't be surprised if they were bleeding and his teeth clashed to the point where his jaw started to hurt. He shook against the restraints, pulling and twisting to find some sort of release.

His teeth snapping into one of your soiled panties, which he only learned that it was when Grayson had pointed it out when you were still passed out. The sweat shined in the moon light, beads of it dripping from his eyebrow. He felt hot and squeamish, he needed to get out of these restraints. Groaning at the rope that restricted his wrists, the roughness from it, bruising his wrists. The discomfort from the tactical pants he wore; not only from the ropes that sat around his ankles but also from inside of them.

The pushing against the fabric, a bit too tight for his liking. God, he felt disgusted with himself, but the sight of you was so appealing, he needed more; needed to feel you, feel inside you. The deep hollowness within his stomach stated enough, it was detrimental but addicting.

He hated the way Grayson corrupted you, pushing you into unknown waters, hazy of all things around you. He wanted to keep you safe, away from the dangers of this world, safe and wrapped in his arms. He was pulled from his thoughts when Grayson started to mumble, murmuring words into your ear. Jason didn't even realize that you were awake; eyes wide and staring right at him.

Was it shock or fear? Normally, with his enhanced hearing, he would have been able to hear every word that Grayson whispered to you and maybe he would've been able to break out from the ropes if his advanced strength and agility was still there but whatever Grayson had in that syringe caused his energy to deplete and his limbs to feel gummy.

Back to present moment where Grayson had your back arched and head pushed down in the mattress, Jason watched as you wiggle and squirm but every time that you did, you received a harsh slap to your thigh, causing you to whine in protest. Grayson had pulled out from his daze and looked towards Jason with a large smile, canines pointed and sharp, ready to strike and pierce.

He saw the mischievous glint in his eyes; that meant he was up to absolutely no good. "God Y/n, your blood smells divine. I don't understand why Jason hasn't sunken his teeth into you yet." As Grayson spoke, Jason's eyes widen in fear, head shaking vigorously, trying to signal to Grayson not to do it but by the smile etched on his face, he knew his attempts were futile.

Your screams were muffled by Grayson's hand as he sunk his teeth into your exposed neck, gripping your neck as he pulled it further to the side for more access. The man in restraints screamed, begged Grayson to stop but his screams were muffled by the now soaking wet fabric that invaded his mouth. His chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, eyes blown wide and bright in red as he heard your screams dying down and head lolling to the side, indicating that you had passed out from too much of your blood being taken.

"Oh no, poor baby all tuckered out." Grayson taunted, dropping your limp body back onto the bed as he pulled out of you; not caring enough to clean you up or wrap you in a soft cotton cloth. The older man got up from the bed, grabbing his escrima sticks before walking over to the chair that Jason had been tied to. With a pat on the shoulder, Grayson left Jason tied to the chair with nothing else but to stare at your unconscious body in the moonlight.

Tears cascading down his face not just from sadness of not being able to protect but from anger that the one person he trusted defiled the one person that kept him going. Once Jason was out of the ropes, he'd clean you and keep you warm but after his eyes were dead set on Richard 'Dick' Grayson and destroying everything he stood for. This meant war.

[unseemingowl]

Saga Anderson, and Nordic rep in Alan Wake 2

Early on in Saga Anderson’s exploration in Alan Wake 2, she runs into Ilmo Koskela. Fiercely proud of his Finnish heritage, Ilmo gregariously makes note of Saga’s Nordic sounding name and the familiar design of her knitted sweater. Perhaps a fellow Finn?

Alas no, Saga’s mom is Swedish she informs him. Immediately Ilmo’s face falls. I’m not sure if it’s actually just the animated character defaulting to his resting face, but either way the timing is too perfect. Cue uproarious laughter from me. People in the Nordics are on friendly terms of course, but we gotta have the tiniest bit of… scornfor each other. All in good fun of course. It’s traditional.

Now, I’m Danish, not Finnish, but still, I feel right at home in the towns of Bright Falls and Watery in Alan Wake 2. All of the little nods to Nordic culture and mindset feel so wonderfully familiar to me. The melancholia, the irreverent sense of humor, the affection for the Finnish and Swedish quirks of the characters. The game feels all the stronger in tone and narrative for Remedy embracing the Finnish roots of the studio.

Which is exactly why it sucks that I almost immediately saw the charm of those narrative decisions weaponised against Saga.

I first watched the scene between Ilmo and Saga on a lets play when I was trying to figure out if I should finally dip my toes into survival horror and buy the game. Delighted by the writing I took a look into the comments to see if people were vibing as hard with it as I was. They were. But I also saw a comment that made me frown.

Paraphrasing, it basically went, come on, like hell a guy like Ilmo would make the assumption that a black woman is Finnish. There are a multitude of reasons why I think that person was wrong, mainly that Nordic people love it when we run into each other in other countries, but it also just made me sad.

Saga being black does not negate her Swedish heritage. Formally, she is American, sure (I assume, not sure how that works in the US), but she’s raised by her single Swedish mom, of course she’s going to identify heavily with that part of her herself. It’s a profound and essential part of who she is.

But hey, I’m a white potato Dane, so I’m not gonna argue that I know much about the experience of being biracial. I’m gonna stick to what I know, which is that Saga is a very moving and beautiful example of something that I’m actually not used to seeing much of - a story about connecting with your Nordic heritage and roots. And it’s part of why I love her so much.

When Nordic people show up in big, international productions, it’s usually as Vikings, and sure, it’s fun to see our wild ancestors, but contemporary questions of Nordic identity and heritage is not something I often see explored. Not even in our own productions.

So much of Saga’s story is about family. Fighting for her current one, Logan and Casey (and sure, David too, lol), and rediscovering her first one. Tor and Odin.

Her discovering her ties to Tor and Odin is profoundly moving and made me teary-eyed several times over. And sure, a lot of those ties are fantastical in nature, but they still feel very much grounded - and what makes us Nordic if not the ties to our myths and legends that Tor and Odin have made themselves the living avatars of.

While Saga’s mom, Freya, had good reasons for leaving the Anderson seer magics behind, seeing them as part of what made her family fucked up, she also cut Saga off from the fullness of her capabilities. It is only through Saga reforming her family, healing its scars and fully embracing the Anderson heritage that she becomes as powerful a parautilitarian as she is at the end of the game. That’s beautiful.

And in fact I think Saga being black only deepens the richness of those themes rather than negate them or make them irrelevant. Because yes, Saga’s story would have been moving if she was a white character too, but I am very well aware that a lot of biracial people of Nordic ancestry can feel alienated from that part of themselves. Not least because questions of who gets to claim a Nordic heritage can get pretty ugly around here. There are most definitely people who share the racist mindset of that commentator. It adds an extra dimension. Which is why seeing Tor and Odin’s eagerness to claim Saga as part of the Anderson heritage is all the more moving. Through her magics, she’s just so obviously an Anderson, and they’re so damn proud to call her theirs and fight alongside her. Because they all got that wild Viking blood in them. They’re part of her and she’s part of them.

Roger Ebert, the film critic once called movies empathy machines. I think games, when they’re at their best, can be an even more intense variation of that. Which is exactly why it baffles me that some people can play through Alan Wake 2 and still think Saga is a stunt-woke character rather than someone fully and beautifully integrated in the narrative. A narrative which, at its most basic level – in my opinion – is about the mystical bonds we form with each other and the rest of the world through art and love and blood and family and heritage. All the great horror doesn’t negate that either, it amplifies it. Kind of like that clicker.

[waywardsummoner46]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Sink Into the Darkness, My Light | Two | ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

"Join us, my Light."

Two centuries ago, the ruler of the Light disappeared, plunging the universe into chaos and disrupting the sacred, unspoken balance of the universe.

The eight rulers of the Darkness never stopped looking for her; their obsession never once waning since she vanished.

Recently, they've sensed something. Never around long enough to pinpoint but so euphoric that it sings within their veins. And since meeting you, well... slowly they begin to understand why.

"Sink into the darkness with us."

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

「✦」 PAIRING - yandere ot8!ateez x (?)reader

「✦」 GENRE - ancient gods!au, fantasy!au, magical powers!au

「✦」 WARNINGS - mind control, gaslighting, dom/sub, subspace (of a sort), temporary amnesia, manipulation, YANDERE AND DARK THEMES

「✦」 WORD COUNT - 4,863

「✦」 A/N - You're all so lovely. Thank you for the reception part one received. We meet another of the members in this chapter, enjoy.

「✦」 TAGLIST - Let me know if you'd like to be added :)

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

• one • two • three • four • five •

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

It was roughly 17:49 when you had another phone call. This time, it was Jee-Won’s caller ID that greeted you, not Ji-Ah’s. A picture of her kissing your smiling cheek and you with your eyes scrunched up. Funny how the picture held so much happiness but its motives caused you nothing but dread at whatever crazed things she wanted to discuss with you now.

  You sighed long and deep; your food was ready and you’d just sat down to begin digging in. How utterly stupid of you to assume that you could simply eat your food in peace. 

 “Hey, Jee-Won,” you said, masking your mild frustration. Speaking to her before you were going out was slowly tearing down the mental preparation you’d been working on. Dealing with her now was seriously reinforcing the recurring thoughts of simply not going… but you’d promised Ji-Ah. You couldn’t back out now (despite how much you wanted to).

  You loved Jee-Won dearly, you and her had been friends since you were very young. You knew basically everything about each other and could trust each other with everything. The fact that your personalities differ so greatly only made that friendship even stronger as one could offer outlooks and perspectives the other couldn’t. Through your care for each other, it was obvious you always had each others’ back.

  Doesn’t mean she doesn’t grate your nerves sometimes though.

  Jee-Won let out an ungodly squeal on her end of the phone and you had to pull the phone away from your ear, wincing. 

  “Happy birthday, my beautiful best friend! How are you on this gorgeous day?” Contrary to your mild vexation, her bubbly energy never failed to make you smile. This was something you could mirror, being practically all smiles yourself.

  Picking up your chopsticks, you began to twist the cheap store-bought noodles absentmindedly. “I’m wonderful, thank you. I’ve had a very… interesting day so far, but it has been genuinely good. How are you doing?” 

  Interesting was one word for it - neither Yunho nor Yeosang had left your mind all day. Thinking about them was natural and your best efforts were no match to their lingering effect on you. 

  Some selfish part of you wanted to go back to ‘Life Rose On’ right now just to see Yeosang again. Yunho you had resigned yourself to the understanding that you’d probably never see each other again (a fact that saddened you much more than it should’ve). Perhaps you were being childish in your hope that they knew each other. 

  It made sense; stumbling into two new pretty boys in the same shop on the same day. Couldn’t be entirely coincidental that they were in such close proximity with one another. Alas, the unknown was killing you and your unexplainable longing for the two handsome strangers remained. 

  And it was unexplainable. 

  Meeting and interacting with those two today felt so intense, so real. Somehow, talking to them was easy and could be done with the familiarity of long-time friends. After the initial hiccups (stumbling over your feet and words), when Yunho spoke to you it felt like every one of your senses was being stroked so sensually and lovingly that it made you shiver. When Yeosang had tucked that breathtaking purple rose behind your ear, that same shiver and unrestrained emotions of rightness returned. 

  … it bothered you. 

  Never in all of your years of living had you let anyone have such an effect on you. Nor were you one to be swayed by good looks alone so easily. Admittedly, both men were incredibly kind and friendly which enabled you to talk to them for longer, in addition to their angelic appearances.

  The effect that they’d had on you troubled you for a reason you couldn’t quite understand and, simply put, you were uncomfortable with it, especially after one meeting. 

  In conclusion, it wasn’t them that made you uncomfortable but rather the effect they had on you that did. Or did it? Oh, you didn’t know. These feelings confused you and only gave you a headache. 

  Realistically, you’d never see Yunho again and you’d probably see Yeosang once or twice more considering he worked in the florist you regulared. There you go, done. No need to dwell on it anymore. Nope. Not. At. All.

  “Hello? Are you still there?” Jee-Won’s mildly concerned voice startled you and made you realise just how far you’d sunk into the ocean of your thoughts. 

  You massaged your temples. “Sorry, Jee-Won. I didn’t sleep well last night, is all. What were you saying?”

  You practically taste her fond exasperation on the other end of the phone. “Are you sure you want to come out tonight? You know Ji-Ah won’t take it personally.”

  That snapped you to attention. 

  “I know that but I genuinely want to go, I promise.” Hoping your tone of false conviction was believable enough, you glanced at your watch. 17:54. Two hours and six minutes before you had to be there.

  “Mhm. Yeah, absolutely. I believe you one hundred percent.” Apparently, you were not as convincing as you’d once believed. “I won’t force you not to come because I know that despite how much you don’t want to go, you’ll go for the sake of other people. But please, if you need to go home early, please, please do. I know you don’t like it when everyone starts to get pissed.”

  Well, she wasn’t wrong there. The easy way out was like a weighted security blanket around your shoulders. A sense of grounding that you hadn’t realised you needed. Of course, Jee-Won noticed. Jee-Won, for all of her flaws, was a good friend. One that you wouldn’t replace for the world. 

  “Curse you and your eternal wisdom,” you said and laughed. Then in a quieter voice added, “And I will.”

  A muffled snap could be heard from the other end. “I know what will help.” Oh dear. “Getting our hair done together!”

  You supposed that the night was never destined to start on schedule; who knew that it would begin during your ramen?

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

 “Uh, Jee-Won I hate to burst your bubble but I think we’re in the wrong place. This looks like someone’s house, not somewhere where we can get our hair done.”

  “We are very much in the right place, my beautiful sunchild.”

  Your face twisted in immediate distaste. Sunchild? 

  You repeated it silently to Ji-Ah behind Jee-Won’s back and she mirrored your baffled expression. That certainly was a new one.

  Both of you turned to look at the building that was allegedly where you’d be getting your hairstyles for tonight. You didn’t necessarily see why Jee-Won had put so much emphasis on your hair in general, let alone praise this place to buggery and ultimately drag you two there against your will. Heck, you’d have been happy curling your hair or simply braiding it so at least it differed from your typical style.

  This place was huge. When she had said hair stylist, you expected a dainty little corner shop surrounded by similar establishments relatively close to ‘Life Rose On’. Everything was around there. The mansion that you beheld in front of you was on a whole new level.

  Never in your life had you seen a building like this, forget anything else. It was a truly impressive piece of architecture; there seemed to be multiple layers to the mansion and different areas with varying spires and towers. 

  The three of you stood on the entrance balcony. Beams of a rich brown supported the canopied roof and each were delicately hugged by the richest, healthiest clematis you’d ever had the honour of seeing in your life. Jung-Hee’s abilities to nurture plants was impressive but the owner of this fantastical building had powers akin to the Gods. Each beam seemed complimentary to the gold-lined, rectangular windows that were on either side of the main oak door, and the patterns on them made that of an intricate hourglass - one half stained a deep black and the other a blinding white, slowly being tainted by the darkness. Or at least, that’s how you saw it. Perhaps ‘The Hidden War Within’ was turning you into more of a poet than you thought.

  Removing yourself from the balcony temporarily, you strained your neck to ogle at the rest of the building. The roof the balcony on the ground floor was seemingly the foundations of the first floor as you saw that a set of glossy black rocking chairs and a dazzling coffee table sat atop it. This time, blood red roses wrapped around the fence bordering that area and worked as a nice contrast to the lighter purple of the clematis. 

  Of what you’d processed of the building so far, it was a double-layered abode with a relatively square shape. Then you looked to the right and it was more reminiscent of a castle than anything else for a circular tower merged into the rest of the building and had a spire at the top of it. It reminded you of a fairytale you read as a child. 

  Beyond that, there were two further layers to the house. Each topped with the traditional Korean dancheong roof, the building truly was like something out of a novel. 

  Quite peculiarly, there seemed to be… trees? Growing from some of the open windows? The picture it painted was exquisite but you wondered with unrestrained curiosity how on Earth the owner managed to achieve such a thing. 

  You’d have to tell Jung-Hee all about this mystical house next time you saw her. The fact that the mansion itself was well out of the way of the main road and surrounded by an incandescent forest was just feeding your slowly spiralling feelings of awe.

  As Ji-Ah and Jee-Won bickered by the front door, you took your sweet time to observe every sheltered nook and every single captivating cranny of the house’s exterior… when you caught a glimpse of something in the tower window. Squinting your eyes, they promptly widened once more when you realised it was a someone and not a something.

  Just as quickly as they’d come, they had disappeared. You blinked rapidly, trying in vain to see if you could catch a glimpse of the dark figure in the window. 

  From what little you had seen, whoever it was was male and looked relatively tall. His face was wholly covered by the shadow the lighting gave him but you could’ve sworn you saw the slightest hint of a smile.

    A shiver ran down your spine and you shook your head to recompose yourself. The day was catching up to you - getting to your head. You needed to breathe and stay grounded rather than let your head wander, especially in a place as isolated as this.   

  You were just about to go towards Ji-Ah and Jee-Won when something wet hit your nose. At first, the shock made you freeze momentarily but reaching up to touch the droplet you found it was only rain. Then, a booming clap echoed through the forest and then the rain began to pour down with a vengeance. 

  Running for the balcony, you avoided trampling the delicate pathway the owner had laid out. Ji-Ah and Jee-Won looked as though they were struggling to hold back their laughs and you raised a soaking finger at them.

  “Listen-”

  “Oh, you must be freezing!” A kind voice said from behind the two of them. All three of you looked at the mystery voice immediately and the breath left your lungs for the third time that day. “Please, do come in,” he said and gestured for you all to follow him through the front door.

  The man must’ve been a God because the urge to drop to your knees and worship him with everything you had was suffocating. 

  His hair was the first thing you noticed about him; silky raven locks lay gracefully across his forehead and framed his face perfectly, like a dark angel. You hadn’t had ample time to examine (appreciate) his face before he turned around but you saw his outfit.

  Long, dark tailored trousers hugged his legs. Flaring off towards his feet, you saw that the man wore glossy black heeled boots that only added to his intimidating aura. There was something so divine about a man confident in his appearance and this man was an example, not an exception.

  Embracing his torso was something akin to a black waistcoat except there were no sleeves nor were there any shoulder coverings; it came up to his chest and gave way to a bright white blouse whose sleeves hung from his muscular arms like decorations and a button up collar that gave the man an impression of elevated status. The cherry on top of the cake was the brief glimpse of an expensive silver necklace you noticed decorated his neck.

  You could basically hear the wealth and power screaming from his form as you followed dutifully behind him and through the mansion’s winding halls. Nothing around you was being processed, your attention wholly centered on the man you trailed behind.

  “You’ll catch flies if you don’t shut your mouth,” Ji-Ah’s smug voice said. Your attention was immediately directed at her, scandalised that she’d say something like that as loudly as she did.

  An inquisitive hum was heard from in front of you and your knees nearly buckled when seeing his face for the first time. 

  (Perfect, chiselled jawline. Perfect, sharp nose. Perfect, full lips. Perfect, piercing boba eyes and, undeniably, one of the most handsome faces you’ve ever seen.)

  One of his eyebrows were raised in question but lowered once he saw the two of you. “Ah, the architecture is rather impressive, isn’t it? This was built by my great, great grandfather during the nineteenth century.” 

  Letting out a subtle breath of relief at his misunderstanding, you subtly nudged Ji-Ah’s side with your elbow. She almost landed you in one of the most humiliating experiences of your life. You never would have forgiven her if he’d picked up on why your jaw was actually dropped.

  “Forgive me, I never did introduce myself,” he turned once more and bowed deeply. He straightened and made eye contact with you. 

  Perhaps you were delusional. Perhaps you were just seeing what you wanted to see. But the way he was looking at you made you feel like he was picking apart the very linings of your soul.

 “My name is Park Seonghwa, but you may call me Seonghwa.” 

──•~❉ ᯽ ❉~•──

  Eventually, Seonghwa led the three of you to what looked like a dining room.

  The walls altered between pink and white marble with streaks of gold complimenting the foundation colour. There were old sconces laid evenly across the walls of the gigantic room and they all lit up a long table, the key feature of the room. An impressive chandelier dangled from the ceiling and the scarce rays of light bounced off of it in a faint imitation of falling stars.

  What truly caught your attention was the painting on the opposite side of the room. It covered the entire wall; black and white paint entwining with each other to give the picture frame a misty effect and the same hourglass patterns from the windows lay in each corner of the frame. 

  Nine people were in the painting. Eight men and one woman. Each man wore an outfit straight from a fantasy novel, completely covered in black clothing. Some donned a cloak, others were clad in onyx medieval armour and one with a crown made entirely of black metal and dangerously glinting gemstones. Quite fascinatingly, the one with his hand on the girl’s shoulder wore a dark half skirt and black trousers that were connected to a torso of gold, floral patterns dusting a glossy tunic.

  In a certain light, it looked as though their eyes were following your slow movements around the space but you disregarded that thought as soon as it entered your head.

  The girl, on the other hand, well… the resemblance she bore to you was uncanny. She lay across the floor in front of the eight men and wore a white dress that could only be described as having the consistency of a cloud.

   “Hey, that’s kind of freaky,” Jee-Won said from behind you. She was also looking at the painting and was alternating her gaze from the painting girl and your face. 

  “Jee-Won, don’t be rude,” Ji-Ah scolded from her side. 

  “I am not being rude, I’m making an observation.”   “Could you try and be more polite about it next time then, please?” Ji-Ah returned, equally as sassy as Jee-Won had been. 

  You shook your head fondly at them. Since becoming a trio, it had been a constant battle between the two of which was right and which was wrong. Ji-Ah had a better understanding of social situations and standards whereas Jee-Won’s unfiltered opinions were something that both benefited her and were to her detriment - like right now. 

  Seonghwa entered your peripheral and placed a calming hand on each of your friends’ shoulders. “Now, now, there’s no need to argue, is there?” There was a power in his words that had the girls quieting down instantly. You were surprised at the look of sheer embarrassment that was on their faces; and you thought you were bad. 

  Seonghwa gave them each a pleased hum and crooked a pointy, gloved finger for you all to follow him. He sat down on a cream-coloured chaise longue, posture entirely straight, and patted the seat next to him as he made direct eye contact with you. 

  You gulped but did as he wished. Tension rendered your body immovable and prolonged eye contact was impossible. 

  Contrary to Yunho and Yeosang, Seonghwa had an effortless motherly energy to him and a deep part of you didn’t want to risk tarnishing that with any hesitance or inclination to disdain. Because you were very much not disdainful of Seonghwa, the exact opposite actually. 

  Watching as Ji-Ah and Jee-Won sat down on the two individual lounge chairs opposite you two, you remembered that you’d all come here to get your hair done. Nothing in this mansion seemed equipped to give you those services nor did you think that you’d have enough time between now - 18:40 - and when you had to be at the night club - 20:00. 

  Seonghwa might look like a miracle but you doubt he could perform them. 

  A clap and all three of you snapped to look at him. He held his entwined hands to his chest and smiled softly at you all. 

  “Firstly, I would like to welcome you to my home. I trust you’ll respect it as it will you during your time here.” The three of you nodded.

  “Excellent. Now, I understand each of you are here to have your beautiful hair styled to perfection for the birthday girl’s night out,” he gave you a wink and you felt your heart stutter in your chest. “Unfortunately, due to the late hour, my… colleagues will be taking two of you whilst I give my undivided attention to another.”   You all seemed to have a silent conversation with each other. His words and logic made sense but his implication that you would all be separated had you grimacing mildly. There wasn’t an issue, you were all grown women - you’d just thought that you could enjoy each others’ presence before the night out when you’d be swarmed by drunkards and junkies. Much fun. 

  The conspirational smile he gabe you all made you aware that he was privy to your mild displeasure. “My sincerest apologies, ladies. I simply wish to maximise time and efforts.”

  “It’s no trouble at all, thank you so much for even accepting us in on such short notice. You’re a lifesaver,” Jee-Won practically gushed. You raised your brow, short notice, huh? She’s acting as though she hasn’t had this planned for the better part of a week (you’d overheard her and Ji-Ah talking).

  Seonghwa raised a hand. “No need to thank us. We’re always happy to help, aren’t we, Yongbokie-dear?”

  A short man with pretty silver hair entered the room. He looked young, only mildly younger than you. “Of course, we are.” His deep voice contrasted his innocent features, much like Yeosang’s had but to a milder degree. He met Seonghwa’s eyes, “We’re ready now, Seonghwa-hyung.”

  “Have the three of you decided who will stay with me?” Seonghwa questioned, looking rather intensely at you. 

  You got so caught up in his eyes that you nearly missed Ji-Ah’s comment. “Jee-Won and I will leave you two to it. Thank you again, Seonghwa-ssi.” The look of unbridled horror on your face caused her to stifle a laugh and you prayed to whatever god was listening that Seonghwa didn’t pick up on it. 

  Seonghwa merely smiled in goodbye as they followed Yongbok out of the room… leaving you alone with a man who compromised your ability to talk.

  Being alone with Seonghwa was worse than being alone with Yunho or Yeosang. You didn’t know why but you genuinely felt as though words were beyond you right now. 

  As though approaching a frightened deer, he extended his hand slowly for you to take. Your eyes darted rapidly from his own and his hand, struggling to comprehend what he was asking of you, why you were reacting like this and just what was going to happen now. 

  “Shall we, darling?” Is it possible to melt into the floor? Because that’s how his voice made you feel. 

  With a new found determination, you took his hand and allowed him to bring you over to a window seat you hadn’t noticed on your way in. Lengthy, silk curtains obstructed it from the dining room’s view but once Seonghwa guided you through them, it was like being embraced by shadows. 

  Very little light penetrated the area for the curtains were dark enough to block the sconces from the dining room and where a window should have been there was only dark marble.

  Seonghwa gently sat you down on a chair in the centre of the area. You remained as silent as he while he rummaged through whatever was behind you. 

  Despite how many times you reflected on the whirlwind that was today, you still couldn’t completely comprehend any of the turns it had taken.

  An hour glass was placed on a previously unseen table in front of you and you jumped at the unexpected movement. Dark sand dominated the most of it and only a slither of white sand sat atop it. It seemed to be some form of bioilluminescant sand as it was glowing in the darkness. How, you did not know. You didn’t question it though, it was beautiful. 

  “Seonghwa-ssi? Excuse me if this is rude but I was wondering how you were going to style my hair in this lighting?” Your meek voice permeated the blanket of silence that had settled over you two. 

  His rummaging halted momentarily as he chuckled lowly. “Not rude at all, little one. A perfectly sound question.” You jumped slightly when you felt his hands in your hair, removing any accessories you had in and detangling the biggest knots. “I work better in the darkness, you see. I find home in its existence and security in its embrace.”

  Your gaze remained fixed on the hourglass in front of you as you absorbed his words. You couldn’t understand how anyone could prefer the darkness to the light. The darkness was stifling and clung to you like a parasite, always had done, always will do. The hourglass was a direct representation of that; it was practically crushing the white sand and reducing it to the thinnest grains possible all in order to rid its presence entirely.

  Seonghwa began to part your hair, separating the top of your hair from the bottom. “What do you think of the darkness, dear?” He asked, and you could sense the genuine curiosity behind his words.

  “I don’t dislike it. I just prefer the light,” your words gained a few ounces of strength with every sentence you spoke. It shouldn’t be as substantial as it was but having been rendered speechless so many times today, the ability to talk was relieving to have once more.

  “How fascinating,” he whispered. Both hands were focused on the top half of your hair now; you felt two pieces of hair tickle your cheeks in what you assumed was him using them to structure your face. He parted your hair down the middle once more except this time it felt as though he was going to braid them. Going off of that assumption, you followed his hand movements as best as you could without actually seeing them as he begun to manoeuvre the right side of your hair. 

  “If I may ask, why do you prefer it?”

  It was a good question. The answer was as natural as breathing. “It’s… safe. It’s hope, it gives everything life and through that gives them happiness.”

  His hands finished the plait he was working on and he rested them tactfully on each side of your head, gently stroking the soft locks as he thought of an answer. “Wouldn’t you agree that without the darkness, there is no light? Similar to without death, there would be no life?”

    You hummed, digesting his words. Secretly, you were rather entertained by this turn in conversation. It was very reminiscent of ‘The Hidden War Within’ with the discussion of dark and light and their codependency on each other to survive but also how they consistently defy the other’s existence. 

  You started off slowly, choosing your words. “Alright, well… take a flower, it is inevitable that they will fall to the darkness and death that swallows it. But there’s always a light that shines down on it and through that light there will be a new bud that will be protected and nurtured by the light until the darkness once again claims that life.” 

  The white sand seemed to glow brighter all of a sudden and you paused in your words. How ironic. 

  “Finish what you were saying, dear. I am enjoying this immensely.” The sand dimmed and you found your head tilting at its loss.

  “Right, um. I think through the existence of light, darkness must consequently exist too. They need each other to balance the other out, that’s simply the way of the world. Too much of one thing - like overpopulation or war - can have a detrimental effect on that balance and that’s why the world is in so much discord today. Because that balance hasn’t existed for a long time. So to answer your question,” you could feel how your gaze was glued to the hourglass.

  For reasons you couldn’t explain, it was magnetic and you were hopeless to resist its pull. The more you spoke, the more the sand looked fluid; it began to twist and weave through and around one another until it mirrored the universe, stars filling in its vastness and only reminding it of its mortality. It was morbidly beautiful. 

  “I believe that without the darkness there would be no light. And I believe that, somewhere, there is a place where light and darkness meet and the distinction between good and evil is no more because there is only existence where morals and nature don’t have a sway.” 

  You reached for the hourglass and turned it over, watching as the sand glided across itself. Nature’s river, caught in a glass prison. “That is how we will find true peace. When war is over, when selflessness works alongside selfishness, when the line between love and hate isn’t so thin after all and instead becomes one.”

  Seonghwa had finished styling your hair minutes ago. He simply stood behind you, hands gently caressing your locks of hair as he listened intently. Even after you finished, slightly breathless, he remained silent as though taking in every last one of your words to heart and committing them to his memory.

  The curtain was ripped open and light spilled in the dark space you’d settled into. Inquisitively, you turned to look at him and your mouth dropped when you saw there were tears in his eyes.  

  “Oh, my - are you alright?”

  He burst into sobs, and hid his head in his hands as collapsed onto the chaise longue from earlier. You stood frozen, completely baffled at the turn of events and even more reluctant to approach him since you were sure you had caused it.  

  “Seonghwa-ssi, I am so sorry. I really-”   “No,” he raised his hand, stopping your apologies before they became ceaseless. He seemed to be struggling to compose himself if his long, deep breaths were anything to go by. 

  You stood, fiddling with the hourglass absentmindedly as you waited tensely for him to make the next move. 

  Seonghwa took one final deep breath and stood on shaky legs. He began walking over to you with such intent you stumbled back slightly. Before you realised what was happening, he grabbed your face in his hands - his teary eyes meeting your wide ones.  “You… are perfect.”

[kimberbohwrites]

Prompts for a story? How about - Rolan, hot for older Tav (elf or whatever really), thinks she (AFAB but totally fine with whatever you feel) hates him but she's working up the courage to ask him out and bang the fuck out of him. He thinks she hates him cause she clams up when he's around - she finds him that sexy/intelligent/edible...

Well your patience has been rewarded my friends, I ended up smooshing these two prompts together and what they caused was thousands of words of hot smut. Please enjoy Chapter One, Chapter Two is almost done and ready. Thanks for your prompts @crowwolf, also shoutouts to @lemonsrosesandlavender for always encouraging me to dom that wizard.

Ma’am

Rolan has been pining for an older Tav for some time now. They both think they other hates them and when they realize their error, smut ensues.

Rated: Explicit, MDNI, Smut

Word Count: 2272

Chapter 1/2

READ ON AO3 (also continued below the line)

Please note: In this I’m writing as Rolan in his 30s and Tav in her 40s with a 10 year age difference.

If there was a spell he could do to reset time, Rolan would reset back to the very first moment he’d met you at the Druid grove. He’d leave a note in his pocket for his past self to not be a total ass when the beautiful woman comes to save the day and to go easy on the drink. But he had no such spell available and the damage was already done. 

She can’t stand you and you deserve it, he tells himself. It’s hopeless, why would an accomplished older woman like you be interested in him? 

Not that you were old, you were only 10 years older than him or so which as a human put you around middle aged if his judgement was correct. As a tiefling he understood that beauty really was only skin deep better than most, for what many believed ugly was actually beautiful, but feared. Not that it mattered with you — age had only made you more lovely. You were confident and graceful in nearly everything you did, the awkwardness of youth long behind you. He found himself too often wondering if that sureness extended to everything you did. Inevitably,  his mind would then wander to musings of your strong hands on his body, pressing him up against the nearest wall and putting your mouth to his. 

Get it together Rolan, he chided himself again and shaking his head like it would clear the vision from his mind. 

After all he’d done to you — the terrible impression he’d made, you were so shy with him that it was silly of him to think of you this way, you weren’t even friends. Every romantic interaction he’d known had been the same, they were both too shy and eventually things just fizzled out. There was never the passion or the fire that he wanted to feel. He felt like you would be different, he’d pined for you for months and months with no end in sight. If anything, his desire for you only grew stronger with the passage of time. But alas, every time he was near you seemed to focus on everything but him, always avoiding him.

With a final shake of his head, he rubbed his eyes and refocused his tired brain back on reality. It was late and near time to close up the shop for the day. Cal and Lia had long since set off to meet their friends at the tavern. He was grateful they were already gone so he wasn’t caught staring off contemplating his feelings for you, again. Daydreaming, his siblings had called it as they mocked him. 

Insulting really, wizards don’t daydream, he huffed to himself. 

The sound of the door gave him a start. Maybe it was his truly terrible luck or maybe his contemplations of you had simply plucked you from the weave by magic, he’d never know. Either way you strolled through the door of Sorcerous Sundries just a few minutes before close with bleary eyes and a nervous look. Upon spotting him you looked around to see if there was anyone else available, he tried to ignore that and focus on the papers in front of him that were very important. 

He could hear you sigh deeply as you turned back toward the door to leave, moving quietly like you might still pass unnoticed. 

“Did you need something?” He asked, trying not to look interested or offended by the fact you were leaving without so much as a word to him. 

“No, sorry,” You sniffed, your eyes looked puffy like you’d been crying. 

“Really?” 

“Fine… I was hoping to talk to Cal and Lia, I could use a friend is all,” 

“They’re gone for the night, the tavern I believe” 

“I see, well, thank you Rolan” 

You turned again to leave and he felt an anxious energy well up in him, he wanted to check on you but he didn’t know how to and you were leaving. It was now or never. He’d like to believe that’s why he said it. 

“Are you okay, ma’am?” He winced as soon as he heard the last word out of his mouth. 

“Ma’am?” You reacted immediately, turning back around. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just nerv—“ 

“As if today wasn’t bad enough, having someone walk out halfway through a date because I have the audacity to be the same age as them and not some young little thing, now I have to have YOU of all people calling me ma’am! Great!” 

Fresh tears streamed down your face and Rolan found himself wishing the ground would open up beneath him and swallow him whole. 

“Gods! I’m sorry! This is why you hate me, I’m such an ass!” Rolan came out and around from behind the counter. He hesitatingly approached you, stopping several feet away. 

What happened next truly surprised him, you laughed, even with tears in your eyes. The way your laugh made him feel, he was sure in that moment that he’d do anything to make you laugh again.  

“I don’t hate you Rolan,” You sniffed and wiped the fresh tears away through a dazzling smile.

“What?! Of course you do, you and I never talk, because I was rude to you,” 

“Lots of people are rude to me Rolan, I don’t go around hating everyone for it” 

“Then why… why aren’t we friends?” 

You sigh and run a hand through your beautiful hair. Gods how he has to fight to not whimper at the thought of you running your hands through his hair, grabbing a handful as you guided his head to where you wanted him. 

“Because, Rolan…Gods… Why is this so hard, I faced down the chosen of Bhaal, okay” You take a few deep breaths like you’re bracing for something. 

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have pried,” He says trying to deescalate the situation, “I don’t want to upset you it’s just… I’m sorry about your date. I… I don’t know how any one could walk away from you…”

Your eyes snap up to his and he covers his mouth with his hand quickly like he can stop the words but it’s too late. 

“Rolan, you don’t mean that “ 

He dropped his hands to his sides stubbornly, drawing his gaze up to yours — he wasn’t exactly brave in this moment but he was unwilling to cower before you 

“I do,” 

“Rolan you don’t even like me,” You interject 

He is shocked at your words, him not like you? Wasn’t the opposite true, he sputters and starts before he manages to get out the words, 

“No — it’s YOU who doesn’t like ME!” 

His cheeks are flushed with anger and nerves, he can feel it. There is a little smile playing at the corner of your lips as he grows more exasperated by the moment. Are you actually enjoying how frustrated he is? He thinks as he reminds himself to stop looking at your lips in time to notice you’re staring at his mouth as well. It’s only been a split second since he spoke, but the moment feels like it’s drawn on for minutes. 

Suddenly time catches back up all at once as you close the distance and grab the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss him hard. The rush that runs through him in the moment threatens to bring him to his knees and he actually has to fight his wobbling legs to stay standing. But as suddenly as it’s started it’s over and you pull away looking guilty. 

“I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have, I should have asked, I’m so sorry!”

There is a blush on your cheeks that he’s never seen before, like he might be affecting you the same way you affect him. The feeling it fills him with is something like desire and it runs through his body like electricity. 

“Don’t be s-“ He tries to tell you it’s okay but you are rushing to explain yourself and continue apologizing. 

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that, it’s just so hard to think when you’re around but that is no excuse. That’s why I have just been avoiding you and I don’t know what came over me, I’m terribly sorry” 

He approaches you slowly as you ramble on your apologies. Gently he places a hand on your arm and with the other he takes your chin in hand gently drawing your face to his.

“It’s okay, I liked it,” He says softly, “and… and I wish you wouldn’t avoid me.” 

Your eyes widen in shock at his words and your mouth opens ever so slightly. His eyes dip down quickly at the sight, wanting to feel your lips on his once more. 

“But why? You’re so handsome and smart Rolan — there are so many girls your own age out there. Unless… do you just like older women?” 

You sound almost scandalized at the thought but a small grin gives you away. 

“No it’s nothing like that,” He grows nervous once more in your presence. Dropping his hands from you and clutching at his own arms nervously as his tail coils tightly around his leg for comfort. Feeling so close to being seen in this moment he is filled with dread and a heady anticipation. 

You pause to think for a moment as you take him in, clearly sizing him up. Your instincts always keen, always sharp, much to his chagrin.  

“Is it because you like when other people are in charge… Rolan?” 

You ask the question innocently enough but it’s far too late. His tail coils so tightly around him that he prays to any god available that you won’t notice. On his cheeks he can feel the burning sensation of the deepest blush rising and his gaze shifts to the ground. He wills himself to answer you. 

“I… I’ve never tried it before,” 

Your mannerism changes almost immediately at his answer, the smile that has only been forming in the corners of your mouths grows to a grin and your eyes light up with mischief and excitement. Gone are the tears that you’d come in here crying, your gaze is singularly focused on him now. In his anxiety-addled mind he feels the need to defend himself lest you to think he’s some sort of pervert. 

“It’s not just that… I also think you’re smart and beautiful and—“ 

“Shhh, It’s okay Rolan.” 

You approach him and gently place a finger over his lips. 

“Do you want me to be in charge?” You ask firmly but softly and then remove your finger only a bit so he can answer you. 

It’s unnecessary because at the moment he can’t speak. He just gives a slight nod in response while nervously looking away. 

“Good boy” you murmur while turning his head back to you and leaving a soft kiss on his lips. 

The response is immediate; a desperate whine from the back of his throat. It’s a sound he’s sure he’s never made before and he would wonder what the cause was if he wasn’t immediately half hard at your praise. You notice immediately, your smile growing even larger like a fox that’s cornered its prey. 

“Alright, I’ll be gentle with you. Your safe word is ‘Wulbren’ if you say that I will stop immediately, no questions asked. Understand?” 

You instruct him in between pressing soft kisses to his jaw and throat. His heart is thundering in his chest as all the blood in his body rushes down to his cock. He nods eagerly. 

“No, no, I need you to say it,” you say as you give a little nip right where his neck and shoulder meet, having pushed his robes aside. 

“Yes! Please! I understand, just please!” He blurts out all at once and he would be humiliated if he wasn’t the most turned on he’d ever been in his life. His knees wobble again under your touch. He is clay ready to be molded in your hands. 

You kiss him hard on the lips in reward and he whimpers in to the kiss, feeling himself get walked backward in the process. 

Before too long his back finds a column near the counter at the Sundries and he remembers all at once where he is. His hand shoots out quickly to cast arcane lock on the front doors of the shop, making sure that not a single soul can interrupt a moment he had dreamt about for some time. 

You smile at the spell and then press him flush against the column. The air nearly crackles with anticipation he feels as you survey him like a prize. That unmistakable authority about you that has always attracted him is returned and he is eager to be the subject of it. 

He keeps trying to lean forward to kiss you but you keep him firm against the column. Now he’s desperate, nearly driven mad with need. 

“Please,” he whines.

You shush him again and he tries not to whine again in response. 

“I think you should be more respectful when addressing me… you can call me…” 

You trail off to think and then that glint of mischief returns in your eyes. 

“You can call me ‘Ma’am’” 

Rolan can’t help but blush in embarrassment at the reminder of his own mistake. He nods quickly. 

“Yes ma’am” 

“Good boy” 

Rolan groans again, now he’s so hard it’s become almost painful. 

“Now, let’s take this upstairs,” You say sweetly as you brush a lock of hair behind one of his ears. His head tilts into your touch almost instinctively. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

[kikiiswashere]

Waltzing for Three

Summary: You're impossibly pregnant and uncomfortable. Luckily, Silco and Jinx are there to help you out.

Warnings: None/SFW

WC: 2.7K

SilcoxAFAB!Reader, established relationship, found family fluff

Notes: I have no idea where this came from, but this little drabble wouldn't leave my brain. So, please enjoy some domestic, soft Silco

------

It seemed entirely improbable that a human should ever fit into the tiny cloth you held up between your hands. The onesie was freshly laundered, the fabric impossibly soft under your fingers. You smiled, flipping it, and placing it against your swollen belly like a sticker. The pull of your lips broadened, revealing your teeth in a bright grin as your womb’s occupant gently patted their small feet or fists against their future wardrobe. Peeling the onesie away, you folded it and set it on the growing pile that had been started on the coffee table.

Nesting, they called it. A deep, primal urge to ready one’s space for a new baby. You hadn’t completely written off the people and books that had mentioned this phenomenon, but you were very surprised at the insistence and intensity of the inclination as you breached your third trimester. Especially since the pregnancy wasn’t planned, and since you and Silco were cautiously excited and anxious about the little one’s arrival. You figured your nervousness may sway nature’s tendencies; alas, she had a stronger pull than you realized.

A groan rattled through your teeth as you reached for the next article of baby clothing. Despite the happy anticipation with which you waited; your body was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. The first trimester was marked with nausea and tender, growing breasts; the second, digestive woes seceded and your bump bloomed proudly before you. You had felt beautiful and divine (and Silco had told you as much). Now, in your third, the glow of pregnancy was wearing off. You couldn’t breathe. You had to pee all the time. Your once confident and saucy gait had been reduced to a gimping waddle – like a fat whump. It hurt to exist; you and the baby fighting for space in your stretched out body.

Silco looked up from his desk at the displeased sound.

His scratching pen paused and he asked, “Are you alright, lovely?”

Internally, you felt your eyes cross. While you appreciated his doting behavior, part of you was sick and tired of being treated like a fragile, delicate thing. As your due date neared, every single utterance you made had Silco checking in. When you cleared your throat in your morning shower, he’d pop his head into the bathroom. When your inhale hitched up as you attempted to take a deeper breath, he looked at you expectantly. Once, you had stifled a wayward burp and he had shot up from his desk, looking at you with wide, waiting eyes.

“I’m eight and a half months pregnant, Silco,” you sighed, folding the onesie you had just plucked from the laundry basket. “I’m tired and it hurts to move. It hurts to be still. My hips and lower back are killing me.”

“Shall I pour a tub for you?”

Sitting back on the red tufted couch, you smiled appreciatively at your partner before lifting your gaze to the large window behind him. While the Undercity was always darker than the surface, you could tell by the light glowing behind its many panes that it was only early evening. If you took your nightly tub now, it wouldn’t be long before you fell asleep. Which would mean the baby would kick you awake in the predawn hours.

“No. Thank you, though. I don’t want to get ready for bed quite yet.”

An understanding hum rolled through the back of his throat. He put his pen down and pushed his chair away from his desk, making to stand. Setting the carefully folded onesie on top of the others, you reached into the basket, pulling out one that made you smile with soft fondness. It was black, with bright scribbles of blue and pink dancing in jagged designs across the fabric. It was an utter relief to you both that Jinx was just as excited about the baby. Given her traumatic past with siblings, you and Silco were initially nervous about sharing the news with her.

However, per usual, she surprised you with her reaction. When you had told her (being very mindful to repeat the fact that you and Silco would not love or cherish her any less), she tittered with excitement and fidgeted more than usual in Silco’s lap as she gazed at you with awe, her big, blue eyes tracking between your face and your (then, still unassuming) belly. Her small hands twitched and flexed, and she bit her lower lip.

“You can touch them,” you had chuckled. “But you won’t feel anything right now. Not yet.”

In a flash, Jinx’s hands were on your abdomen, inspecting.

“Gentle, Jinx,” Silco reminded.

She heeded his instruction, but her attention was fully on your stomach. Her small but dexterous hands padding over you in wonder.

“I’m the big sister,” she whispered, and both you and Silco shared a look over her head. She leaned in closer, lightly pressing her cheek to you. She wrapped her skinny arms around you and said, “I’ll never leave you. Okay? You can count on me.”

Your throat tightened and your eyes welled at her promise. Cursing your raging hormones, you pulled the girl into your chest for a tight hug. Once she was settled, you reach over her and pulled Silco into the embrace with a tug on his tie.

The soft, fuzzy sound of music flowing through Silco’s gramophone pulled you from your memory. Your head swiveled around to see him lift his hand away from the needle. He pivoted the sound horn just so before turning and walking over to you. Reaching out, he gestured for the onesie in your hands. You gave a quizzical look, but handed the garment over. Deftly folding it, he placed it on the pile and then held both hands out to you. Your eyes rolled and a playful scoff tsk’d behind your teeth. Nevertheless, you gripped his offered hands, and using your combined strength, hauled your massive, front-heavy form to its swollen feet.

You groaned as Silco steadied you, your skeleton adjusting and succumbing to the pull of gravity.

“I don’t know how good of a waltz partner I’ll be right now,” you sighed, waddling to the center of the office.

“Never fear, my lovely. I won’t hold it against you.”

Silco slid in behind you, nestling his front to your back. He wrapped his arms around you, but lower than usual. Before you could question it, his hands cupped the underside of your belly . . . and then hoisted up.

Janna’s sweet tits . . . the relief!!

It was immediate and euphoric. Your jaw dropped, head lulling back onto Silco’s shoulder. You were simultaneously melting and floating. The weight of your huge stomach being lifted off the aching and stretched cradle of your hip bones was heavenly. A long, loud, rattling groan tore through your mouth.

Silco chuckled. “Is that so?”

Weakly nodding against him, you matter-of-factly said, “If it wasn’t such a chore to get down and back up again, I get on my knees and blow you right now.”

A deeper laugh rumbled through his chest and he kissed your temple.

“Perhaps I can get a raincheck, then?”

A gooey smile, stupid with reprieve, spread across your face. You turned to look up towards your partner, and he was quick to kiss you. His lips were warm and firm against yours, just like his hands on your belly. Your and Silco’s lips molded seamlessly against one another; top and bottom lips taking turns puzzling against their neighbors. It was lovely, intimate, easeful, and unassuming. Giving him one last, lingering kiss on his scarred lip, your head lulled into the crook of his shoulder and neck. Silco readjusted his hold on your belly, and you both kept swaying to the music softly warbling through the office.

After a few minutes, the babe within you wriggled into a new position, punching, or kicking, across Silco’s wide hands. You felt his hold tighten and his chest swell. The fact that he was so quietly excited made your knees wobbly with adoration.

“They’re a good dancer,” you whispered. “Just like their dad.”

Silco huffed a small laugh and you were thrilled to see the color rise in his cheek out of the corner of your eye.

Before he could administer a witty retort, there were a series of thumps and mutterings above your heads. Then soft, shuffling scratches and mumbled thoughts traveled further through the ceiling. Both of your heads followed the noise, bodies gently turning in time with the sway of your feet, until you were both facing Silco’s desk.

From the rafters, you heard a small voice take a deep breath and whisper, “Okay . . . Three, two . . . one!”

Jinx leapt from her platform and tumbled onto Silco’s desk. Even though this was not a new behavior for the girl, what was new was the way your heart leapt in your throat, and the way you winced at her clumsy landing. A few times, you had read how a parents’ brain (especially the parent that carried the child) changed; how things that never used to bother or scare them suddenly mattered when it came to the safety of their little one.

You had expected it, but you were not looking forward to the ‘worrying’ part of parenthood – especially in a place like Zaun. Especially in the positions you and Silco held. Especially since Jinx did not seem to have any sense of self-preservation.

She dusted her knees off and leapt up. “I finished it!” She proclaimed, flourishing a large piece of white parchment with scribbles all over it.

“Oh? Let’s see then,” you said, awkwardly leading you and Silco toward the desk, making sure he still held up the weight of your bump.

Jinx flopped onto her seat on the desk’s top, kicking her gangly legs over the edge. Adjusting the paper in her hands, she thrust it forward proudly for inspection. Your heart swelled at the sight of it, and it was a weight you were glad to hold within your bosom.

For the past week, Jinx had been designing the baby’s room. What color it would be; where the furniture would go; what art she was going to put on the wall; where the toys would live; where she was going to keep a sleeping bag and pillow in case she and the baby decided to have a slumber party.

Excitedly, loudly, and quickly, Jinx began to take both you and Silco through each detail she had laid out. You listened attentively, still weaving to the music.

“And this is where his toys will be stored . . . over here is his dresser . . . this is his changing table. I’m still trying to figure out how to create a super-sealed-smelly bin in case his diapers are extra stinky . . . “

As beautiful and sweet as it was, your heart couldn’t help but tap a little nervously as Jinx went on about ‘his this’ and ‘he that’. You weren’t sure what the sex of the baby would be – and you, annoyingly, felt like you never got a good, motherly sense of it. Somedays you were certain it was a boy; then a few days later, it felt like it could be a girl; then you wouldn’t be sure at all. Regardless, you both had tried over the last several months to temper Jinx’s insistence that she would be having a brother. But she wouldn’t hear it.

“I don’t want another sister!” she would cry, stomping her feet.

Of course, you and Silco would be happy with either, or whoever the baby turned out to be. But you were quietly hoping that Jinx would get the brother she was expecting.

As she continued explaining the sorting system of the dresser, a knock came at the office door. All three of you paused, Jinx’s face falling into an aggravated expression at being interrupted. Silco guided you both to turn toward the door.

“Come in.”

At this time of day, it could be only one person; and, indeed, Sevika let herself into the office. She froze at the sight before her. It wasn’t new per say – this domestic scene – but it clearly wasn’t one she was getting used to. She huffed and closed the door behind her.

“We have an issue,” she said, stepping forward.

Again, you felt the pads of Silco’s fingers press more firmly against your bump. Whether he was conscious of the way his arms stiffened to pull you closer, you weren’t sure. It made your heart melt regardless.

“An issue that you cannot sort on your own?” he asked. You could hear by his tone that he was sneering at her. As your due date grew nearer, Silco had made an effort to delegate as many tasks as he could so he could be close.

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Sevika replied, barely keeping her temper in check. “Marcus is on his way. About that Councilor’s kid OD-ing on Shimmer.”

A gruff sigh passed through Silco’s lips. He rolled his eyes and said, “Very well. Go get the VIP booth in the mezzanine ready. I’ll be there shortly.”

Since you had become pregnant, Silco no longer took meetings in his office. It didn’t quite make sense, since it was not a secret that you two were expecting. But it seemed to bring him some modicum of peace, so you hadn’t questioned it.

“Good night, Sevika,” you called as she turned to leave.

She nodded and half-heartedly waved a hand in your direction before leaving and closing the door. Silco let out a gentler, more forlorn sigh once she was gone.

“I’m sorry, my lovelies,” he said, addressing you, Jinx, and the baby, you realized, as his hands gently caressed your bump. “Duty calls, unfortunately.”

“No!” Jinx cried. “I wasn’t done showing you his room!”

She brandished the blue print at him, her blue eyes going big and watery.

“I know, child,” he cooed, leaning his head toward her. “I would love to see and hear the rest if I am finished before your bedtime. If not tonight, tomorrow over breakfast. Agreeable?”

Jinx’s shoulders and lower lip slumped forward, but she nodded.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Silco whispered against your temple before planting a kiss there. Your daughter was already laying on the guilt pretty thick, so you restrained your reaction and merely nodded in understanding.

“Ready?” he asked, indicating his hold on you.

Something between a whine and groan pealed out of your throat at the thought of being saddled with the weight of your giant belly again. You began to nod, but Jinx jumped off the desk with renewed excitement.

“Let me! Let me! I can do it!”

She jockeyed in next to Silco, awkwardly wrapping her arms around you.

Your partner’s soft chuckle vibrated through your chest, and he said, “Come stand over here, Jinx . . .”

You stood dutifully still as Silco patiently guided Jinx into the correct stance, placing her arms and hands appropriately and instructing her to widen her feet to accommodate her shorter height.

“Ready? I’m going to let go. Don’t drop them.”

“I won’t! I won’t! I can do it!”

You felt Silco’s hands and arms recede, transferring the weight of you and the babe to Jinx. A small laugh escaped you as you felt the small girl behind you squeak and brace herself. To her credit, she did manage to keep your womb off your hips.

“Oh my gosh! Why is he so heavy?” Jinx exclaimed.

“You’re doing wonderfully, Jinx,” Silco applauded as he rounded you both.

He brought a hand up to your face and held it against your cheek, looking you in the eye earnestly.

“I am sorry.”

You leaned into his hand and shrugged, as you and Jinx began to sway to the music again.

“You can make it up to me later,” you said coquettishly.

That sliver of a smile that was reserved only for you (and now Jinx. And soon, baby) cut across Silco’s lips. He leaned forward and kissed you.

“Good luck,” you said as he broke away. “Give Marcus my best.”

Silco rolled his eyes, ocean and fire flicking up to the ceiling. He reluctantly took his hand from your cheek and strode for the office door.

“Give him hell!” Jinx grunted from behind you.

You laughed, patting her hands with yours. Silco did not respond, but you saw his shoulders quake with amusement as the door closed behind him.

------

Notes: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, please comment and reblog!

[muffinsin]

If you want to👀👀)) how the G!P Dimi sister react to reader asking the sister to put them in a mating press??

This is quite the fun concept! I’m surprised I haven’t written them in that position all that much yet XD Let’s get into it! ;)

Masterlists

Bela

She’s the type to have been taking people in this position without even knowing it’s a known position

She just likes to thrust in deep and hard, is all

Alas, when you broach the subject and ask her, she isn’t quite sure what you mean

She isn’t caught up with sex positions

Still, she agrees. Any position is one she is willing to try. Especially if you ask her to

Upon explaining the type of position you want her to take you in, her lips turn into a smug smirk

Ah, yes. That one

Yes, she is quite familiar with that one

And she is all too eager to take you this way

While being gentle with you, Bela likes to subtly prove some points with you

1), that she is well stronger than you and fully capable of taking you however she wants, whenever she wants it

Secondly, that she is all but towering over you

And lastly, that she is strong, fast, and capable in every regard

As such, she likes to push you down on your back and force your legs up, her large hands gripping your thighs slightly tighter than necessary

The next time the two of you are intimate, she all too happily pulls you in the position, her cock ready and aching already

She can go for a long time like this, with little breaks granted here and there

By the end of it, you feel stretched, yet full, her white, watery cum dripping from you and moving about within you with every move

And she wouldn’t have it any other way. She enjoys the view greatly

Usually, she will lean down to nibble at your chest or collarbone, her warm breath tickling along your skin

Her grip is firm, but not painful. However, either way, there is no escaping her grasp if she doesn’t allow it

When taking you in this position, you both feel it

She thrusts in deep, her long cock hitting even the back of your holes

And while she takes breaks in-between orgasms, she can go for hours to make sure you are properly bred from the treatment

Afterwards, she likes to lean down to lick up some of the cum dripping back out of you

If you’re lucky, or perhaps unlucky- if you’re so very sore already, it will turn her on again and inspire her to have you go another few rounds

Cassandra

It’s one of her favourite sex positions by far, up there with back shots and taking you while you’re tied up or down for her

Really, her huge cock and thick cum is perfect for mating

As such, this position in particular is used when her breeding kink has been triggered

And Cassandra can go for a long time

She pushes you down on her bed, mounts you, grabs your ankles and has at it

Often, your ankles will be bruised after. Not enough to seriously harm you, as long as she doesn’t want it to, but always enough to leave her marks on you

Often, you find the skin sore or light purple from her tight grip

And often, the rest of your body is equally marked

From the prints on your ass from her balls slapping against you repeatedly, to the bloody puncture wounds all over your jaw, throat, collarbone and chest caused by her teeth, she is sure to mark you up

She has very high endurance and can go for hours, and will not stop until satisfied

Even if this takes hours and has her drag countless orgasms from you

She loves feeling her own cum in you while she takes you

The warm softness, the wet feeling all around her as she thrusts her hips and pushes her creamy cum deeper into you

While not being serious, nor able to get you pregnant, she thrives off the idea of breeding you in this position

She likes to refer to you as her “little bunny” in this position. It’s no surprise that she is your matching part, the big, bad wolf everyone makes her out to be

When you approach her about wanting to try out the position for the first time, she wastes no time, but rather makes some for you

Truly, your offer is simply too tempting for her to even think of denying it

Her work, cleaning her sickle and daggers, is long forgotten in favour of shoving you backwards onto her bed and mounting you

She’s rough and hard on you, hungry and strong, insatiable and predatory

Only when you are pumped full enough for her cum to spill out even as you still cockwarm her does she get enough

Unlike her sisters, Cassandra likes to keep you plugged up for some more time by having you cockwarm her. She doesn’t bother pulling out if you don’t want her to

Daniela

The youngest of the bunch, certainly

And yet- Daniela is perhaps the one most familiar with this position

She has a vast knowledge of numerous sex positions, toys, accessories, and so on. This is only one of them

When you bring it up and ask her to take you this way, she is thrilled!

Eager and easily excited, she casts aside her book to immediately push you over and straddle you, uncaring of the fierce blush on your cheeks due to the location this takes place in

She reassures you; the library is hers, anyway

Her hands find your thighs first, grabbing hard and groping eagerly as she swarms out her dress

In her excitement, she all but shreds your trousers, hell bent on getting to her prize and taking it

It only takes a few thrusts of her sensitive, long cock against you for her to grow hard

A few more moments of making out and having you grope her breasts, and she is already leaking precum against your hole

Now, Daniela is big on breeding, whether she breeds you, or she is the one being bred

In turn, this is triggered especially when in this position

Daniela cums a lot, fast, and often. One, two, five, six orgasms mean little to her

She likes to keep going longer, longer, longer. If you don’t ask, it’s unlike she will think of granting you a break, completely high on the feeling of your wet hole soaked in her cum and squishing with every thrust into you

She will be sure to breed you properly, and throughout

Don’t be surprised when your stomach bulges slightly in no time

When done, usually only after hours or to take it someplace else, she likes to push a plug in you for a couple of hours

She insists, she can smell herself in you

[elsfavor1te]

please, I’m begging you to write more soul shattering angst 🙏🙏

ALL THE KISSES IN THE WORLD.

my gift for being gone for so long. i really really tried to write a chapter of AW that i liked, i did i tried. alas i could not. so take this self indulgent angst. this was written purely out of the pain brewing inside of me <3333 love ya.

warnings: literally just as anon said, soul crushing angst. ellie williams x fem!reader. i’m sure there are many plot holes but idc. hurt/comfort.

your hands are covered in blood. your hands are shaking. your hands are shaking and covered in your blood.

“i don’t wanna die, i don’t wanna die.” you whisper in rushed breaths, wincing at the sharp pain high in your chest when you inhale.

once the tears start, you can’t stop them. you regret it. begging ellie to split up, saying you’d be done quicker. how careless you were walking into this building. being too cocky and landing yourself here.

when your eyes catch the clicker who did this to you, its like they squeeze shut without your asking. the heaving breaths hurt so bad, but you can’t stop. if you do you’re afraid you may not breathe again. you don’t wanna die.

“i’m not bit, i can survive.” you try to reason with yourself. the glass you pulled out of your torso after being pushed onto it by the clicker that was way stronger than expected, was now somewhere across the room.

you know you’re not supposed to pull it out. you know you’re supposed to leave it. you acted out of fear, something was in your body that wasn’t supposed to be and your hands moved to pull it out before the rational part of you could stop it.

“ellie is gonna come. she’s g-gonna find me, she’s gonna save me.” you utter into the desolate area, no other sounds in the air besides the ones coming from you.

your vision is decorated with spots and your hands are clammy when you hear the crunch of someone coming near the building. one of your hands stop pressing down on your bloody wound and shakily reach toward the gun at your side.

a quiet sob escapes you when you try and fail to stop your hand from shaking. it feels like you’ve lost control over your body. you have no say in what’s happening to you.

you push those thoughts down and stare down the barrel of your gun as bravely you can. you can be brave. ellie always says you’re brave. her bravest bestest girl.

you always laugh and say that bestest isn’t a word.

when you see those familiar freckle dusted cheeks, your hand drops out of pure exhaustion. sending the gun spinning across the old concrete floor.

relief is the only way you can explain the warm tingly feeling that rushes over your body as she kneels over you. her presence brought a welcome haze over your vision and a numbness to your body.

“baby! can you hear me? hey. listen, look at me.”

her voice is muffled, like there’s cotton balls in your ears, still the most soothing sound in the world to you. you smile at her, a small faint smile, but still a smile nonetheless.

she’d take a smile.

“i’m gonna get you out of here okay? you’re okay.”

you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out, you opt for raising your hand to her cheek.

she instinctively leans into your palm, tears falling from her clouded green eyes.

you don’t want her to cry.

“i-it doesn’t…hurt— anymore.” you push out, trying to reassure her. your thumb goes to wipe the tear trailing down her face when you notice the bloody smears you’re leaving behind.

“i’m gettin’ you all dirty…” you frown, dropping your hand away.

ellie says something about picking you up, you don’t really hear her though. too busy admiring her face and the way her plush lips wrap around her words.

you meant it when you told her it didn’t hurt anymore. it’s like you had be doused in a sort of numbing substance, so when she gently brought you into her arms, you didn’t cry out or scream, or do anything.

that scared her.

“els… i wan’ a kiss.. kiss me.” you pout, forgetting all about the situation you’re in, solely focused on the idea of her lips against yours.

“i’ll give you all the kisses in the world as soon as i get you to a doctor. okay, pretty?”

“‘m bein so brave huh?”

“yes, baby.” she shakily inhales as she attempts to run you both back to where she left shimmer. “my bravest, bestest girl.”

“i love when you call me that…. i’m so tired els… so— sleepy.” you nuzzle into her chest.

“no! no— hey. look at me. right now to be brave you need to stay awake okay? you need to— to watch me.”

“i think i’ve been brave…” you slur, closing your eyes and succumbing to the darkness.

[mielwriting]

Venti 🦠?

Gods Can Get Sick? - AlbusLebron - 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Available here on Tumblr and on ao3!

Illness was not an issue he ever had to reckon with as a wind wisp. He envied his siblings in that regard. The Thousand Winds were unable to related to his sickness, so they tried to comfort him in their own ways. Some of them stayed with Venti, while others scoured the continent in search of a solution. They snuck into the Akademiya’s libraries, swept through Cloud Retainer’s blueprints, and even searched the remains of the Fontaine Research Institute for a cure to a divine cold. He had gotten sick plenty of times before, but each time, some wind wisps searched Teyvat. They hoped that, in the centuries since the last time he was sick, someone had come up with something that could help him recover faster. 

Meanwhile, Venti was sorely rethinking his decision to live outside. Normally, he loved the outdoors! He loved laying on a high branch at Windrise, feeling the way the breeze shakes the trees, and occasionally feel the cool rain on his skin. Now though, his whole body ached, and the roots of Vennessa’s Tree simply felt uncomfortable. 

While his old friend’s Tree was normally his go-to healing spot, that was more for magic issues, such as alchemical corruption or losing some of his power. Against a regular (divine) cold, the Tree was unfortunately unable to help. 

Venti didn’t want to risk infecting Dvalin, and Andrius was never too comforting. He would love to rest in the hands of his (friend’s) statue, but his stronger-than-a-human’s sneezes would attract unwanted scrutiny, and likely bother the people in the plaza. And then the Sisters would notice, and insist on trying to heal him or having him rest in the cathedral’s recovery wing. And then he’d be stuck listening to choir songs singing praises he didn’t deserve, while all the sisters prayed to himself so he could get better!

So, he stayed at the roots of Vennessa’s Tree, trying to make himself comfortable, while several wind wisps tried to comfort him. He closed his eyes, and tried once again to relax. 

“Oh! Apologies, I wasn’t expecting you to be out here.”

He slowly opened his eyes and looked in the direction of the voice, where Grandmaster Jean was standing. She looked concerned. 

“Grandmaster Jean!” He mouths the word ‘acting’ as she goes to correct him, “What a pleasant surprise! What brings you to Windri-Achoo!” Venti groaned.

“I often visit Lady Vennessa’s Tree to clear my head. Are you alright?”

He winced at the thought that he was adding more stress to her plate, “Of Course, Grandmaster Jean!” He wished his voice didn’t sound as hoarse.

Jean looked conflicted, then took a few steps towards Venti and sat down next to him, “I hope I’m not being too presumptuous, but… I wasn’t aware Archons could get sick.”

Venti sneezed again, then looked at Jean, “Oh, it’s just something I have to deal with every few centuries. Alas, even gods are not immune to colds,” He sighed dramatically, “Perhaps this is my punishment for stealing Master Diluc’s wine…”

She looked at his lap, where several wind wisps were currently resting, “Then are the… wind spirits also sick?”

He followed her gaze to the sleeping wind wisps, “Ah, no, they’re just trying to make me - Achoo! - feel better.” 

“Is that why you’re spending more time at the Tree? You mentioned before that it helps you heal.”

“Alas, Valiant Vennessa’s tree only helps heal ailments of the magical kind. Such a mundane problem cannot be healed from a magical source.”

She looked down at her own lap, “I know it’s not my place to question your judgment…”

He placed a hand over his heart and closed his eyes, “Grandmaster Jean, you wound me! I can take any criticism you have to throw at me!” He let his hands fall to his sides, opened his eyes and looked at Jean, “I value your opinion, really! Whatever it is you have to say, please don’t let my status as an archon keep you from sharing!”

“If Lady Vennessa’s Tree can’t heal your cold, then why are you still sitting outside? Fresh air and exercise is imperative to a quick recovery, but so is proper rest. I can’t imagine it’s easy to make the trip to Windrise every day. Surely there’s a park closer to your house.”

“Oh, I don’t actually have a house in the city! I usually just sleep outside.” 

She looked horrified, “Lord Barbatos-”

He quickly interrupted, “It’s fine, really! I love the outdoors!” His smile didn’t seem to convince her. 

“I cannot in good conscience allow a citizen of Mondstadt, archon or otherwise, to remain outside while they are recovering from an illness. I can offer you my house’s spare bedroom.”

“That’s really not -Achoo! - necessary, Grandmaster Jean. Really, this just happens sometimes. I’ll be fine in a few days… ah… ah… Achoo!” 

“I insist, Lo- Venti. We don’t want whatever you have to get worse. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want myself, your other friends, and all your… wind spirits to worry you aren’t taking care of yourself.”

He gasped, “I can’t believe you Grandmaster Jean! Using my compassion against me,” he draped his hand over his forehead, “Oh, woe is me if- Achoo!... Ah… Ah… Achoo!” He dropped his hands back to his sides, “... I’ll go, if only to give you peace of mind. You may have a point about proper rest.”

She smiled, “I’m glad to hear it,” she held a hand out to help him up. As he stood up, several wind wisps roused from their sleep and floated up beside his head. 

“There’s plenty of room for the wind spirits too.”

He took her hand, and smiled earnestly, “Thank you, Grandmaster Jean.”

*** 

An hour later, he was laying on her spare bed, which he had to admit was much comfier than a tree. He was still sneezing every few minutes, but he was as relaxed as he could be in present conditions. Several of the Thousand Winds floated next to him. 4 were trying to sing to him, 3 were nuzzling against him to provide comfort, and others were playing with his hair. 

One of his braids was dangling over the edge of the bed, and 2 wind wisps were quite entertained by watching it sway in the small breezes they created. The other braid had come undone entirely, and 3 wind wisps were trying to rebraid it for him. 

Each time he sneezed, they lost their grip, the half-done braid fell apart, and they had to start over again. It would be a few sneezes before they learn to braid his hair quick enough. They don’t seem to mind having to start over. In fact, they seem to really enjoy constantly braiding his hair. Venti suspects that if his sneezing didn’t regularly undo their progress, they would’ve redone the braid several times by now.

Venti doesn’t want to think about the chaos the other 988 winds were out causing. Instead, he thinks about how nice Jean was to give him the bed even though he probably caused more work for her. He would have to repay her somehow once he got better. 

For now, though, he was content to doze off, safe in his old friend’s house. 

[blushy-tigerrr]

Saved By The Bell - Naruto Tickle Fic

Fandom: Naruto Shippuden

Summary: During the second bell test, Naruto makes an interesting discovery about his Sensei.

Content Warning: mild language

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: it has been SO LONG since i last wrote a fic so i'm v nervous about posting this, but i am pretty proud of it! i hope you enjoy!

Naruto and Sakura ducked behind a tree, breathing heavily as they tried to recover some energy from all of the failed attempts at retrieving the bells from Kakashi. Their brains were moving a mile a minute, trying desperately to figure out a new tactic. It’s been about three years since the first time they had tried to do this, and as strong as the two of them have gotten in that time, it was still incredibly difficult. It didn’t help that the pressure was up this time as Lady Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage and Sakura’s mentor, and Jiraiya, Naruto’s mentor, were watching and evaluating their fight. With the extra amount of pressure they were feeling, the two of them couldn’t help but wonder if they had even progressed much at all.

Kakashi, however, felt the amount of growth his students had achieved. As opposed to last time they fought him like this, he wasn’t daring to let even a little bit of his guard down. He knew how much stronger Naruto and Sakura had become, and because of this, he knew he’d be defeated easily if he relaxed for even a second. Even so, he couldn’t fully keep his mind away from his new “Make-Out Tactics” book that Naruto had brought him. He’d never dare to start reading while facing opponents like these, but the desire was there, and it was strong.

Naruto sighed, his breath becoming steadier. “Man, that Kakashi is ridiculously strong. I mean, he’s smarter than Shikamaru, he has a better sense of smell than Kiba, his Sharingan is better than Sasuke’s, his Taijutsu is better than Lee’s… and he’s got way more experience than us.”

“You’re right, but even so…” Sakura interjected curiously, “even he must have a weakness.” She squinted her eyes as if to see the possibilities written out in front of her. “We just have to think about it…”

“A weakness, huh?” Naruto wondered aloud, joining Sakura and becoming deep in thought. He cycled through every fight he’s seen Kakashi in, trying to figure out what his weakness could possibly be. It was hard to find the answer with an opponent so strong. Maybe, his weakness wasn’t a physical thing, like a blind spot. Maybe… Naruto gasped suddenly. “I’ve got it!”

Sakura’s head whipped towards Naruto in surprise, her brow slightly furrowed. “Really? You know Kakashi’s weakness? Tell me!” She leaned in, prompting him to whisper so no one would overhear their plotting. Naruto stifled a giggle, playing out his ridiculous plan in his head.

“Sakura, think about it for a minute. If you really look back at all of Kakashi Sensei’s actions, you’ll know what I’m thinking of.” Naruto smirked, waiting for Sakura to think of it, too. She did think very hard, in fact. Alas, she wasn’t able to see it the way that Naruto did so clearly. He beckoned her close to him and whispered his plan into her ear. As the words left his mouth, her face switched from a confused expression into a wide, scheming smile.

“Oh, I get it now! Naruto, that’s a genius idea!” She exclaimed, feeling her hands begin to shake in excitement. “You really are the most unpredictable knucklehead ninja I’ve ever met.” Naruto growled, lightly smacking Sakura in the arm, making her laugh.

“Hey! How dare you call me a knucklehead when I just came up with that amazing plan! You said it yourself, it was genius.” He smirked, crossing his arms in a playfully arrogant way. Sakura rolled her eyes at his actions.

“No matter how many great plans you come up with, you’ll always be a knucklehead to me, Naruto.” She teased. Naruto copied her eye roll, still smirking.

“Whatever. Let’s just go before Kakashi Sensei starts getting suspicious.” He began to move noiselessly in Kakashi’s direction, Sakura close behind him. They both focused on their movements, making sure to draw no attention to themselves while also making their way through the trees as quickly as possible. Before they knew it, they were crouched behind a bush about thirty feet away from Kakashi.

Kakashi couldn’t sense their presence yet, but his guard was very much up, anticipating a sneak attack from a direction that wouldn’t be expected. He would never admit it to his two students, but he started to feel a bit nervous. He couldn’t place exactly why. All he knew is that he should be expecting the unexpected. But then he wondered, what could be so unexpected that it warranted him feeling this nervous? When he saw his two students appear from behind a bush, that was when the nerves really started to kick in. They couldn’t possibly think a head-on attack would work, could they?

“Huh… attacking me head-on like this. Are you sure that’s the best course of action?” Kakashi questioned his students, keeping his voice even as he readied his defensive stance. The two stood before him, and Kakashi couldn’t miss the eagerness in their stances. What on Earth did they have planned?

“Now, Naruto!” Sakura’s sudden exclamation prompted the two of them to jump into the air, diving slowly towards Kakashi. He couldn’t help but gain a confused look. All three of them knew that Kakashi could destroy them easily in a frontal attack like this. He stood, still ready to attack at any moment, but he watched them closely, analyzing every movement down to the tiniest muscle twitch.

“Alright, Kakashi Sensei…” Naruto started to speak as they continued to descend. Kakashi cocked his head to the side slightly, surprised that he’d use a moment like this for conversational language. “At the end of ‘Make-Out Tactics’…”

Oh. Oh.

Those words sent a chill down Kakashi’s spine. There was no way Naruto was resorting to such a dirty trick. Spoiling the ending of the book he had just received that day? What kind of a monster did he train?! Kakashi covered his ears out of instinct, preventing himself from hearing any more of Naruto’s words. He kept his eyes locked on their movements, but then he realized…

“As it happens, the main character…” No! He could still read Naruto’s lips because of his Sharingan! His eyes clamped shut, determined not to find out any spoilers that Naruto might have known. He was also Jiraiya’s student, and he’s the author of these books, after all. It was more likely than not that Naruto knew exactly how this book went, and Kakashi would rather lose this fight than have his favorite series spoiled for him.

Kakashi felt a sudden jab at his right side, close to his hip. His eyes shot open with a gasp, as his hands flew down to protect himself from… that. Much to his dismay, the jabs kept coming one after another. He felt his face begin to flush in embarrassment as he choked back the laughter that was about to come out of his mouth. There was no way he was letting his students learn both of his weaknesses in the same day.

“Damn it, where the hell are they?!” A familiar voice mumbled to no one in particular. Kakashi looked down to see that the culprit of the pokes was none other than Naruto. He was obviously searching for something… wait. “Where are they? Where are the bells?!” Naruto’s hands kept searching as Kakashi felt his defenses begin to crumble. He inhaled deeply and held his breath. He could not, would not let this happen. Not in front of the Fifth Hokage herself.

When Naruto’s hands reached the bottom of his ribs, Kakashi felt himself involuntarily move away from the poking. This made Naruto stop what he was doing and stare curiously at his teacher. Kakashi stared back, his eyes a little bit wider than normal. His heart rate began to increase when he saw a devious glint in Naruto’s eyes. Naruto reached out to land another poke into Kakashi’s ribs, eliciting a quiet yelp from the older.

“Say, Kakashi Sensei…” Naruto’s voice was lower than before, almost a growl. Kakashi swallowed, his face growing more flushed the closer Naruto gets to him. “You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, would you?”

Kakashi felt his breath catch in his throat hearing those words. “Now, Naruto…” His voice had a slight tremble to it, but he tried to keep his tone calm and level. “Is this really necessary? You would have defeated me just now. We don’t need to resort to such tactics.”

Naruto chuckled, stepping even closer to Kakashi with his hands reaching out in front of him. “If you’re hiding the bells from us, then I have no other choice.” He leapt at Kakashi suddenly, attaching his fingers to his sides and digging in mercilessly. Kakashi gasped, putting his hands over Naruto’s in an attempt to push them away. He gritted his teeth to prevent any laughter from slipping out of his mouth. He was determined to keep up his stoic facade for as long as possible.

“N-Naruto, this isn’t necessary. C-come on, stop this.” Kakashi’s voice came out a bit more strained than normal as he held back his laugh. As ticklish as he was, Kakashi was able to handle this spot pretty well. As long as Naruto didn’t get any other ideas, that is. Not satisfied with the reaction he was getting, Naruto furrowed his brow in deep thought.

“I think it’s very necessary, Kakashi Sensei! If you’re unfairly hiding the bells from us, I have to find them by any means.” Naruto moved his hands up to Kakashi’s ribs, scratching each finger between each of the bones. Kakashi let out a strong exhale, still holding his laughter in, but just barely. His hands still stayed on top of Naruto’s, trying to detach his fingers from his ribs. The feeling of all ten of Naruto’s fingers wiggling in between his ribs was almost too much to handle. Naruto grinned mischievously, noticing Kakashi’s face becoming more red as the tickling continued.

“You’re really not letting up? Man, I guess I have to do it, then…” Those words from Naruto made Kakashi’s stomach do a backflip. He started to squirm underneath the tickly touch, wondering what on Earth he could have possibly thought of to escalate the situation.

“Well, as I was saying before, the main character in ‘Make-Out Tactics’…”

Kakashi gasped, covering his ears and clamping his eyes shut once more. Damn, Naruto was much better at finding his weaknesses than he’d like to admit. “N-no! I’m not listening!” Kakashi exclaimed in a panic. What he failed to consider, however, was just how vulnerable he had made himself in this one motion. Naruto chuckled, taking the chance that was given to him. He shot his now free hands up into Kakashi’s underarms.

Kakashi’s arms came crashing down as his entire body curled in on itself. The laughter that he was fighting back finally bubbled to the surface in the form of soft, hysterical giggles. His face flushed even deeper than before, feeling embarrassed about reacting in such a way, especially in front of the people that were around. As Naruto’s fingers scratched in the sensitive spot, Kakashi couldn’t help himself but squirm even more than before.

Naruto was shocked. He had never heard Kakashi laugh like this. He didn’t even know if he’d heard Kakashi laugh at all before, so to see him reduced to a giggling mess was a hilarious sight. “Wow, Kakashi Sensei! You’re way more ticklish than I would have thought!” He continued to scratch his nails in Kakashi’s underarms, causing his teacher’s laughter to slowly get louder.

“N-Narutohoho, plehehease! This ihis soho childihihihish!” Kakashi cackled, trying half heartedly to bat Naruto’s arms away from him. Could he have gotten the kid off of him easily with one swift motion? Absolutely, but to be honest, he couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed his guard to drop this much. It had to have been years since he felt himself laugh even a little bit. As embarrassing as it all was, a bigger part of it felt refreshing.

“Oh, you think this is childish? I’ll show you childish!” Naruto taunted, throwing pokes all around Kakashi’s torso, making his laughter spike up an octave. “Childish is hiding the bells from me when I beat you, fair and square!”

Kakashi’s eyes were still squeezed shut due to his loud laughter. All of a sudden, the tickling sensations increased rapidly. He felt so many different spots being targeted all at once. While the scratching in his underarms continued, he additionally felt fingers wiggling against his stomach and his ribs. Then, there was a pair of hands scratching behind his knees, forcing a surprised squeak out of Kakashi’s mouth. His legs began to shake due to the new spot being targeted. How was this even possible? He forced open his eyes and finally realized: he was being attacked by Naruto and three of his Shadow Clones.

Once he found out what had happened, Kakashi’s body surrendered to the sensations. He let unfiltered laughter flood out of his mouth as his legs finally gave out, making him end up on the ground. All four Narutos followed him down, all of their hands staying attached to the spots they were targeting. Kakashi was almost in tears laughing, completely unable to get away from the eight hands that were attacking him. “Nahahaharutoho! Plehehease, stohohohop!”

“I’ll stop as soon as you tell me where the damn bells are!” The real Naruto yelled, his three Shadow Clones laughing along.

Jingle.

Hearing that soft, familiar sound ring through the chaos made both Naruto and Kakashi freeze. All of their remaining chakra was focused in their ears, listening intently for the sound of the bells.

Jingle.

Their heads whipped around to see Sakura standing a few feet away from them, holding both of the bells, one in each hand. Kakashi felt his face pale at the sight as Naruto bolted over to grab one of the bells out of her hand with a satisfied chuckle.

“Y-you had them the whole time, Sakura?” Kakashi stammered, slowly gathering himself and getting to his feet. Sakura had a small smile on her face as she blushed a bit.

“Yeah… I’m sorry, Kakashi Sensei! I just thought… you looked like you were having fun, so I didn’t want to make you guys stop so soon.” Sakura explained sheepishly. Kakashi couldn’t help but smile at her statement, his face remaining a deep shade of pink.

“Well… you aren’t necessarily wrong.” Kakashi admitted, making both of his students stare at him in shock. He shrugged as he continued his thought. “I mean, I can’t remember the last time my body was able to relax like that, and I don’t even think either of you had ever heard me laugh before.” Naruto and Sakura looked at each other, knowing that to be true. Kakashi smiled at them before looking around the area. “Now, I have one thing to ask, and this goes for everyone here, so listen up.” As Kakashi spoke, Tsunade and Jiraiya poked their heads out of the trees, their grinning faces focused on him intently.

“What is it, Kakashi Sensei?” Naruto asked, his eyes shining with glee. Kakashi sighed, directing this statement mostly at the two Sannin.

“Please, do not tell Gai about this. He will never let me live a peaceful life with this information.” Jiraiya snickered as he and Tsunade shared a mischievous glance. 

“No promises.” Tsunade responded with a scheming smile. Kakashi sighed even deeper this time, holding his face in his hands.

“Don’t worry, Kakashi Sensei! We’ll protect your honor!” Naruto exclaimed, positioning himself in front of Kakashi, using a defensive stance.

Sakura giggled and mirrored Naruto’s actions. “Yeah! We’ll protect you no matter what!”

Kakashi smiled, grateful for the incredible Shinobi his students had become. “Thank you. Now, what do you say I treat you two to some ramen as a congratulations?” His students let out a yell of excitement, racing each other back to the village. Kakashi followed close behind them while Tsunade and Jiraiya lingered for just a moment longer.

“You’re going to tell him, aren’t you?” Jiraiya asked the Hokage.

Tsunade chuckled. “Oh, I absolutely am.”

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Do u believe in or have any ideas about the whole Overlord Niffty theory?

Actually yeah! For my Niffty I’m going for that route!🐛

HUGE Spoiler alert!!!! Hazbin Hotel @the-burd-lord made these concept designs for me as a gift, I treasure them greatly💖 Their designs inspired from Centichoro from One Punch Man. The other character in the drawings is my take on Alastor!🦌📻

With the reveal of Husk being once an Overlord I like to believe the same with Niffty but rather than gained her power from souls(talked about this with @a-sterling-rose, she was an immensely powerful sinner like Alastor, but alas her form was far too big and scary for people to want to get close to and she was all alone…until Alastor came along and offered her a deal he’d provide a more approachable form in return for her eternal service).

One idea. I imagine she was once a regular sinner like everyone else but was still a centipede like demon so it wasn’t easy to gain peoples trust due to her scary appearance. But one day some overlord or jsut really strong demon or hellborn tried to attack her and in defense or just acting on first instinct…ate into them and ended up becoming stronger and scarier looking in the process, driving even more people to see her as a threat and try to attack only to well…think the Hungry Catepillar but more gruesome and scary.

I can imagine she used to live in the outskirts of the pentagram or underground somewhere as Centipedes can burrow. Occasionally some try to get close to gain power or try to kill her but failed. She was very lonely💔💔💔 Warning scary images.

A lot of her looks meant to be hiding what she is. Disguising her extra limbs as hair, her body’s color scheme based on a centipedes, poofy dress that could cover extra, even the bug design could be Interpreted as a long centipede. I was also going for a subtle sharp, mini legs for her apron ruffles, giving off her trying to look sweet and soft but could also be interpreted in another way…

I read and learned from a @lovesart23 redesign vid for her that, she was meant to be based on B-Alien Movies. LOVE that and I tried it myself(hardest part was figuring out what bug to make her and what themes to go with) but I ended up going for another Sci-Fi route. Kaiju/Giant Bug monsters. Creatures like Godzilla or those giant bugs creatures like “the Tingler” 1959(which was a centipede monster I read). I figure it’d connect well to both her struggles of fitting in but also her Japanese Roots.

Monsters are tragic beings. They are born too tall, too strong, too heavy. They are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy. They do not attack people because they want to, but because of their size and strength, mankind has no other choice but to defend himself. After several stories such as this, people end up having a kind of affection for the monsters. They end up caring about them."

— Ishir⁠ō Honda The Director of Godzilla

Plus some certain Kaijus could qualify as Aliens!.

There’s even a Yokai/demon based on the centipede known as the Ōkumade! I imagine Niffty’s true form is basically a giant monstrous looking centipede.

What do u think? Any ideas you have for overlord Niffty? I’d love to know💖

[numinousmysteries]

Legacy

This goes AU post-Je Souhaite. Kind of an expansion of what I was exploring in this post on how Mulder and Scully could have had a satisfying ending without children.

[on Ao3] @today-in-fic

I.

Mulder told her to never give up on a miracle. He was right in the end although their miracle wasn’t a child but something far more rare: Two discordant souls coming together to create a union stronger than the sum of its parts.

Once in a Los Angeles hotel room, champagne bubbles fizzing in her mind, Scully whispered in his ear, “I wish we could make a baby this way.”

He froze. He was on top of her, buried deep inside her, his body enveloping hers, and his abrupt pause made her gasp.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean—”

“Shh,” he soothed her. Shifting to balance on one hand, he used the other to tuck a shock of auburn hair behind her ear. “I wish we could, too.”

She tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. He kissed her hard and started moving within her again. If yearning and conviction were strong enough to overcome biological reality, they would have easily sparked life on that plush king bed with its 1,000-thread count sheets. Alas, science defeated faith. She cringed at the irony of wishing for a different outcome, and hoped he wouldn't blame her for not believing enough.

Arriving at the hotel room after midnight and tipsier than either of them had been in years, they neglected to close the blackout curtains. The harsh sunlight woke her far too early the next morning. A pounding in her head and an acidic churn in her stomach weighed down the buoyant rosiness of the previous night.

He stirred alongside her. Both of their bodies were damp and sticky with sweat. The air conditioner kicked on and she felt goose pimples rising on her flesh.

“Morning,” he whispered, squeezing her tighter against him.

Last night, she felt as if she couldn’t get close enough to him. In the backseat of the car on the way back from the movie premiere, her hands were on his chest, his thighs, the bulge in his lap, as his tongue probed her mouth and she inhaled his heady blend of aftershave, cologne, and natural musk. She couldn’t remember how they shed their clothing, just her evening gown and his tux falling away as their bodies sought contact.

In the morning, though, she craved to be alone. Not to escape him, but to run from the implication of her words.The alcohol had smudged certain details of the evening but she remembered what she said to him about conceiving a child. And, as much as she wished he didn’t, she knew he had to as well.

With her head on his sternum, she felt him clearing his throat.

“I know we never really talked about it, the IVF, afterwards,” he started. “But if that’s still something you want, I would want it, too.”

“There’s not going to be another round of IVF,” she said, her voice raspy. “No more ova, remember?”

“I didn’t mean that specifically,” he said. They’d been intimate for months but this was the one topic they still danced around with their old, overly formal remoteness. “I meant having a child another way. There are donor eggs, surrogacy, adoption—”

“I know,” she cut him off. “It’s still so raw, though.”

“I understand,” he said. He kissed the top of her head and she realized they were both crying. “But I want you to know I’m open to any of it. If and when you’re ever ready.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate that.”

And yet, weeks turned to months and she never felt ready to face another loss. She still dreamt of little girls with her hair and his bottom lip; little boys with his nose and her eyes. But the pain lessened as time went on. Once she let him in, she felt less alone. Together, their lives felt full.

II.

She knew he hadn’t been close to his mother, but after Teena’s death—and the concurrent shift in their relationship—she made more of an effort to involve him with her family. At first, he resisted. She suspected he feared being an imposition or, worse, a tangible reminder of all his quest had taken away from her and her family. She could meet his stubbornness with her own, though, and in the end he couldn’t turn her down.

They began with casual dinners at her mother’s and, just short of a year into their relationship, she managed to convince him to fly with her to Bill’s for Christmas. Matthew, nearly three, had been joined by a younger sister, Caitlin, only a few months old on their first visit. With Caitlin in her arms, Scully shifted her gaze between the unbroken peace of the infant’s sleeping face and Mulder’s worried facade. With her widest smile and honest eyes she attempted wordlessly conveying to him that she was truly happy. No one offered the baby to Mulder to hold and he didn’t volunteer. For that, she felt thankful. As content as she was, she wasn’t ready to face the image of what might have been.

They visited more frequently over the years, becoming regular fixtures in her nephew and niece’s lives. They went to kindergarten graduations, birthday parties, little league games, and dance recitals. When the kids were a little older, they took them out for the day, just the four of them, to the zoo, the aquarium, the beach.

Bill was a football fan but his son preferred the slower, cerebral rhythm of baseball.

“Good,” Bill said, eyeing Mulder on the couch discussing the Padres odds of making it into the playoffs with Matthew. “You can watch this with him. It’s too boring for me.”

And Mulder did, for hours at a time even though it wasn’t his team. The boy’s wonder and curiosity in the game mattered more than who won or lost. He saw so much of Scully in her nephew’s precocious, methodical nature. Matthew even corrected his math.

Everyone else was surprised by how good Mulder was with the kids, but she never had doubts. She’d seen him on cases interacting with children at the worst possible moments of their lives—after losing a parent or a sibling, or witnessing a heinous crime—but he always approached them with respect, kindness, and patience. Knowing what it was like to feel alone and misunderstood, he gave them the space they needed.

Aware of her infertility, her family knew better than to whisper to her that he’d be a wonderful father, but that didn't stop her from hearing the words reverberate in her own mind. But they were merely echoes bouncing off the cold walls of a barren canyon. Unable to find purchase, they dissipated and faded away into the ether.

It was only once when a three-year-old Caitlin became inconsolable for reasons that were impossible for adult minds to decipher and would only accept comforting from her mother that Scully felt the emptiness in her arms as she handed the toddler over to Tara.

An hour later, the girl’s mood lifted just as mysteriously as it fell and she was eager to show her aunt her Barbie doll’s new wardrobe. Scully sat cross legged on the floor switching out outfits for so long that her legs fell asleep and Mulder had to help her up. As he lifted her to stand, he softly kissed her neck, just beneath her ear.

Once, Tara was even able to wrangle the kids on her own when Bill was at sea, and they flew out to DC to visit. They stayed at her mother’s—Scully’s apartment that she now shared with Mulder was too small to house them all—but Mulder and Scully spent nearly every waking moment with Matthew and Caitlin. The city they walked every day took on a new tint through the children’s excited eyes. Who knew there were so many interactive exhibits at the National Air and Space Museum? That the pizza place on her block threw in candy with your order if you picked up a child’s size pie?

They fell into bed exhausted but giggling over the silly comments the kids had entertained them with each day.

Their visit ended with airport hugs and kisses. As they returned to their car in the parking lot, she felt a sinking sense of guilt.

“You could have this for real, you know,” she said. “With someone else.”

For an instant, their roles reversed and he looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “It’s only you,” he vowed. “You and me. Forever.”

As jet planes soared above them bringing families together or drawing them apart, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. This was family, too, she knew. Two hearts that had found each other.

III.

The only time she ever felt glad they weren’t able to have children was when they learned the date of colonization. She’d already seen one daughter’s life cut short by the work of these horrible men and she couldn’t watch another die. If the IVF had worked, their child would only barely have made it to its teenage years.

By the time they learned the date, they only had five years left to fight. To thwart their efforts, their enemies had them both framed for crimes and they became fugitives. Cut off from the resources of the bureau and even the power to use their own names, their struggle intensified, but they never gave up.

The Gunmen helped them go deep underground. For years, they exchanged old fake identities for new ones and took up disposable backstories in dozens of nameless towns across the country. Once either of them picked up even a passing whiff of threat, they’d pack their bags and leave one life behind for the next. She thanked God she didn’t have to force a child to live like this.

In another life, these would have been the years she devoted to bedtime stories, school pickups, and soccer practices. Instead, she spent them corresponding with others in the resistance through encrypted emails sharing research findings and making plans.

With a year to go, she finally developed a promising vaccine formulation using samples of the extraterrestrial virus stolen from a syndicate lab by a scientist sympathetic to their cause. She tested her inoculation on mice and stray dogs. All the creatures showed immunity.

Mulder insisted on being her first human test subject.

“Absolutely not,” she argued. “You were exposed to the virus in that gulag. There’s no way to know how either the vaccine or this particular strain of contagion would interact with your existing antibodies. Besides, the resistance can’t afford to lose you. I can’t afford to lose you.”

Ultimately, Frohiked stepped up.

“I’m the eldest,” he said, when the five of them met up. “I have the least time remaining.”

The rest of them started to dispute but he waved his hands to cut them off.

“I’m disposable,” he continued. “Scully’s the only one with the medical know-how, Mulder’s got his connections and that spooky sixth sense that’ll come in handy. Byers’s has the bland face of comforting authority that’ll convince everyone to line up for this wacky new shot, and Langly’s a decent enough hacker to break down all the digital fortresses you’ll need to penetrate.”

“This better not be some ploy to get me to admit your kung fu is so far superior to mine that we can’t possibly lose you,” Langly deadpanned.

“Not a chance, hippie,” Frohike huffed. “It’s just that you’re allergic to bees so we all know the anaphylaxis would take you out long before the virus had a chance.”

So he rolled up his sleeve and let her give him the injection. She waited for a crude joke as she swabbed his deltoid with alcohol and then depressed the plunger of the syringe, but Frohike remained serious and stoic. He’d been a good friend to them over the years and she didn’t underestimate him.

They waited two weeks for the vaccine to take effect, and then she tested his antibodies. According to her research, his levels appeared high enough to fend off the virus. They locked him in the basement of a rural home they’d rented with a reliable Wi-Fi connection, a week’s worth of food and water, and a hive of genetically engineered Africanized honey bees.

Stung to shit, he texted the rest of them later that night.

Any symptoms? Scully wrote.

All copacetic so far, he responded. My faith in the good doctor remains.

Godspeed, Byers replied.

A week later, they unlocked the basement door. With the exception of scattered pink welts from the bee stings that had already begun to heal, he emerged unscathed. No gelatinous tissue. No gestating alien.

“Dr. Scully,” he said, grinning. “Your patient lives.”

Byers and Langly whooped and applauded.

Mulder kissed her on the forehead. “I knew you could do it,” he said. There might be hope after all.

Scully argued they had to find a way to deliver the vaccine surreptitiously, that no one would believe their claims of an upcoming alien invasion. But Mulder insisted it had to be a choice. That if they inoculated the population without consent, they’d be no better than the syndicate of men who secretly carried out their tests on unwilling, innocent citizens for decades. Although she feared his plan would result in unnecessary death, she didn’t deny he was in the right morally.

As word of a successful vaccine spread, more and more scientists defected from the syndicate to join the resistance. Mulder and Scully never fully trusted them, wary that they’d found their consciences a little too late, but still welcomed the information they had to offer. They mapped where the bees would be released and charted the timeline of the ships’ arrivals.

In the months leading up to the date, Scully became the public face of the resistance, using her scientific background and medical credentials to plead their case and insist on widespread vaccine uptake. She published their old case reports, not sparing the public any of the gory imagery of what laid ahead if they failed to act.

Miraculously, it worked. Enough of the populace accepted the vaccine that, paired with a syndicate significantly weakened by the resistance, they were able to ward off the invasion. The ships were picked up on radar systems but they must have been able to detect their accomplices’ failure on the ground and they quickly reversed course.

Mulder and Scully’s names were cleared and they were lauded as heroes after spending years as outlaws.

As they sat on their porch and watched the sun set on that unseasonably warm but otherwise unremarkable December evening, the old emptiness threatened to temper the joy of victory.

“Our children could have had a future,” she said.

“Scully, you gave all the children a future.”

He leaned in to kiss her. The world didn’t end.

IV.

Life went on, which meant its shadow, death, kept up its work as well. It didn’t feel fair that she only got to enjoy a few more years with her mother after they were free to come out of hiding, but at least Maggie Scully maintained her sharp mind until the very end.

Only in these last few days, on a steady morphine drip to ease her transition into the next world, did the loving relatives streaming in to visit her bedside start blurring together.

“You’re such a good mother,” she said to Scully, after spending an afternoon with her, Matthew, and Caitlin. “You’ve raised them so well.”

Scully didn’t have the heart to correct her, to remind her that these were Bill and Tara’s children, not her own. So she smiled and kissed the thin skin on her mother’s brow.

“I learned from you,” she said.

Her life was rich, even without children. She had Mulder, her extended family, and her work. She didn’t know if her mother would ever understand that, so she let her die believing her daughter was happy in a way that she could comprehend.

V.

After his stroke, she knew they didn't have much time left together. He was still the same man she met and fell in love with so long ago, still possessed his wit and encyclopedic memory of all things paranormal, only operated at a slightly slower frequency.

So it didn’t surprise her when she woke up one morning and his body was next to her, but he was gone. She had nearly lost him so many times over the years, but when it finally happened she felt oddly at peace. He had lived a long life. He had been vindicated, defeated his enemies, and even saved the world. They had spent decades at each other’s side, the intensity of their love never fading. Still, a lifetime together was not enough time.

She wanted to stay in the house, it was theirs after all, but it became harder and harder to keep up on her own. Caitlin offered for her to come live with her and her husband in Southern California. Their own children were all grown up and on their own, so they had plenty of room for her. She liked the idea of returning to the Pacific of her youth, so she agreed and began clearing out the house.

They didn’t have much. There was no fortune, no priceless family heirlooms, but there was neat, lawyer-signed paperwork dividing what they did have between Matthew, Caitlin, and their children. She was glad to help them in some way, however small.

She didn’t mind getting rid of their belongings. Her childhood as an itinerant Navy brat and her years on the run with Mulder had taught her not to value material things. But then there were the files. Their life’s work, cataloged in dozens of cabinets in their home office. Their true legacy.

A few weeks before moving, she got the email.

Dear Dr. Scully,

My name is Tegan Marks and I’m a special agent with the FBI. I read about your husband’s recent passing and I wanted to express my sincere condolences. I must admit that I’ve long been an admirer of both of you, ever since learning of your work in preventing the alien colonization of 2012.

As you know, the X-Files division has been closed since you and Agent Mulder departed from the bureau. However, that hasn’t stopped reports of unexplained phenomena from coming in. We just don’t have a unit or any resources devoted to investigating them. While I’m currently assigned to the violent crimes section, I’ve petitioned my supervisors to reopen the X-Files and they’ve been receptive.

In order to establish a thorough database of this type of phenomena and its history, I was hoping to access your files to scan and digitize. I would happily return the physical copies to you once I’m done.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Best, Special Agent Tegan Marks

Scully replied that Agent Marks was welcome to come and pick up the files anytime, no need to return them.

She showed up excitedly a week later. She was so young—probably no older than Scully was the day she was assigned to the X-Files herself—and so full of passion and curiosity. If aliens had colonized the planet in 2012, Agent Marks never would have been born. Scully led her to the home office where wall to wall filing cabinets held the secrets of her life’s work.

“Oh wow,” Marks said, surveying the office. “I think this is more than I can fit in my car. I might have to make a few trips.”

“Take as much time as you need,” Scully said.

“And I’m happy to bring them back once I’ve digitized them.”

“No,” Scully stopped her. “Please, keep them. They belong with someone who will put them to use.”

Scully watched as Marks hauled folder after folder to her car. She loaded the backseat and trunk to the brim but had barely reached the M’s for Mothmen.

“I don’t know how to thank you for this,” she said.

“I should be thanking you,” Scully said. “I know nothing would make my husband happier than to know that these were with someone who wanted to carry on our legacy. Before you head back, would you like to join me for some coffee or tea?”

“Tea would be lovely,” Marks said and followed her back into the kitchen.

“I’m honestly glad you reached me when you did,” Scully said as she boiled the kettle. “I’m in the process of downsizing and I didn’t know what to do with all of these.”

“Well, I’m glad I got in touch,” said Marks. “I’m looking forward to diving into these.”

“I can’t believe they’re reopening the X-Files after all these years.” Scully shook her head. “Do you have a partner?”

“I’m in the process of selecting someone now. It’s been challenging, though.”

Scully nodded, indicating for her to go on.

“Well, I’m obviously very open-minded about the paranormal but not many other agents are. I imagine this work would be much easier with a fellow believer.”

“Hmm,” Scully said, pausing to sip her tea. “You might be surprised. Mulder and I rarely saw eye-to-eye on our cases but I think that challenging each other is what made us such a good team. Just make sure you find someone you actually enjoy disagreeing with.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Marks said. “Although I don’t think partnerships like that are all that common.”

“No,” Scully said, smiling. “I don’t suppose they are.”

After they finished their tea, Scully saw the younger woman to the door and watched as she drove away; their legacy in good hands.

[revserrayyu]

2.4 Xianzhou continuance thoughts [part 3]

**SPOILERS** for the end of this patch’s mission, covering all the drama happening down in the Shackling Prison, so advert thine eyes if thou have not finished the story as of yet.

Once we found out we were actually able to visit the Shackling Prison during this update, I was eagerly waiting to see how Dan Heng would handle returning to this place. It certainly makes him uneasy, even before entering this cold place, and Nicholas does such a great job conveying all those anxieties into every one of Dan Heng’s lines whenever his past is brought up while here. The level of concern we hear from the Trailblazer is sweet too, like I audibly “aww’d” at this brief exchange.

I admire your confidence, Moze, but please don’t do anything reckless! But hearing how he’s a jail-breaker doesn’t really surprise me. There’s a bunch of shadowy figures of him bound by chains in his splash art and recent leaks showing off his skills can back up how he’s so swift in his escapes. He managed to avoid capture towards the end of this quest too.

Huzzah, another Jingliu mention that only surprises me because I haven’t bothered to read any of the relic’s descriptions of the Prisoner of Deep Confinement set. And how does one possibly manage to avoid eating for several centuries?

Not only did this beast apparently not starve, but he also endured unrelenting pain every day? Frightening. Hoolay is really out here surviving purely on hatred and a need for revenge.

Once glance at these notes and I just knew someone was gonna yap about Jingliu in front of him. Definitely wasn’t disappointed when it happened either.

Hey Moze’s defiance is valid! Never take random medicine from people! But in this case, yeah, it’s for your safety sir, “just swallow it already.”

Okay so there was like one or two instances before this where Jiaoqiu also noticed shape-shifted Borisin by their scent and makes me wonder how he could tell the difference. I assume Foxians have stronger noses than we do so perhaps it’s easier for someone like him to notice, or perhaps it’s a similar feeling to him being around Feixiao so often since she also suffers from Moon Rage? He did refer to it as familiar later on. Either way, he really should’ve spoken up about his suspicions earlier.

Y’all..these two are absolutely delivering each line perfectly and the emotion is squeezing my heart so tightly. I love the bond the Express crew has with each other so darn much! The hand pat is cute but let me hug this man please! He needs several!

The feels keep on coming as I was kicking my feet and squealing all giddy when Dan Heng jumped in to save us from being crushed. I know he’s literally doing his job as the guard of the Express but.. aww. I’d probably have a better screenshot if I wasn’t too stunned by what I was seeing with my own eyes, but alas. I fangirled too hard to care.

We always resort back to our trusty baseball bat, huh? I get how pulling out the Watchmaker’s hat probably wouldn’t be as epic or helpful, but I’d like to see us wield the flaming lance a bit more during cutscenes like this. Having us use it during the cutscenes with boss battle Aventurine were nice. Makes me wonder if Dan Heng will call upon his Imbibitor Lunae form if the situation ever gets too dire.

Ohh, and with all that chatter about poison to March and the kids before, I believe he’d be successful in creating such a medicine too.

His dedication to cure Feixiao’s condition is extraordinary and I’m wishing so hard for him to achieve it somehow.

On a side note, I am glad this whole mission continued with that split character perspectives feature that Penacony had so we could try out Jiaoqiu in battle a few times. I’m still quite fond of him, but after mixing him in with my team, I couldn’t really find a decent place for him. I may wait for his rerun before I pull but we’ll see if my mind gets swayed before his banner starts.

Getting a little sneak peak at what Moze can do was cool but sadly didn’t last long enough. Still hard to believe this man is a four-star but at least he’ll be easier to level up.

It’s funny to me seeing Moze go nuts with his abilities and sharp weapons, then you got Jiaoqiu fighting with a fan. And spices. And cooking enemies in a giant hot pot. The strange fighting methods fit right into Star Rail and that’s one of the many things I love about this game; how literally anything can end up as a weapon.

But yeah, as expected, Hoolay managed to escape with the helped of the many Borisin who transformed themselves to look like the prison guards.

Xueyi gets absolutely wrecked after a failed attempt to stop Hoolay and I probably would’ve been more shocked if they hadn’t shown her lifeless on the ground in the 2.4 trailer.

Yeah, thank Aeons she’s a puppet or else this really would’ve been her end.. and with how casually Hanya mentions such damage has become somewhat of a reoccurring thing, I guess we’re all worried for nothing. Even less so as Xueyi later pilots a conveniently placed cycrane up and out of the prison to inform Jing Yuan of the disaster that happened.

Dan Heng literally saying that he rather die than having anything bad happen to us.. aahh. He’s such a good boy. I feel bad for never using this regular form of his, until I remember Imbibitor Lunae is most likely my strongest unit, so all is well. But how about neither one of us dies, okay? That’s more ideal.

Jiaoqiu thinking about Feixiao first before the entire wellness of their home.. god, he’s so committed to that promise of his. Love that for him.

Hearing him quite literally triggering Hoolay was to be expected, but also sly of him to conveniently leave out that our former sword champion is no longer on the Luofu. I think one of the nearby Borisin noticed and corrected this information to Hoolay anyways, but whatever. It manages to keep our medic alive as a hostage.

After seeing Dan Heng throw Cloud Piercer in an attempt to stop the prison’s doors from closing, I wanna assume we managed to escape, but it’s still kinda vague. I’d hope we did because I certainly don’t want our faithful Express partner to trapped in this nightmarish place any longer than he already has! He deserves to be free from his past!

Heeyyy there, queen. Missed you but definitely can’t end this rambling without you. My expectations after this first part have been raised significantly so if anything, I better see her go all out and fight like crazy in 2.5.

Tell me how exactly. How does one manage to lose sight of a huge, menacing Borisin like Hoolay? Unless he’s also capable of shape-shifting, which would make perfect sense if he can and used that little party trick to escape, but damn.

And with that, I’m finished. Until the next update, of course.