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perlelune · 4 months

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Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue.

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone.

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates.

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you.

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure.

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now.

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward.

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall.

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes.

“I usually walk. It’s okay.”

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit.

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest.

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him.

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand.

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny.

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body.

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused.

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach.

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time.

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl.

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room.

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you.

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion.

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles.

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table.

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?”

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time.

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says.

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently.

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event.

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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yaespook · 8 months

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Indulgence.

✧ Room Content: Dom! Top! GN! Incubus! Reader x Sub! Switch! Priest! Kaveh x Sub! Bottom! Incubus! Alhaitham, reader has a cock, mostly focused on Kaveh, threesome, sacrilegious themes (Catholicism), worshipping and blasphemy, inexperienced virgin Kaveh, Kaveh has religious guilt regarding masturbating/sex, Kaveh wears a clerical collar, handjob (reader receiving), frotting (Alhaitham with Kaveh), vague incubus powers (entering dreams and binding tattoos). Leave a note if anything was missed out. ✧ Retrieved Notes: [The head of the fortune cat appears on the front desk.]

It started out quite innocently in Kaveh’s mind really.

It was another early morning Sunday mass. The same old kind where it was mostly just grandparents attending, when the warm sunlight hasn’t quite fully peeked through the clouds yet. The lights in the church weren’t all on either because only the front few pews were occupied anyway, dousing the environment in a cold sort of blueish grey.

For Father Kaveh, the processes were all the same. The same parishioners, the same blue-greyness, the same prayers. It was always the same and it has always been for a while now.

But today was different. During his homily, he caught a glimpse of two unfamiliar faces sitting amongst the congregation in the wooden pews of the church. It’s hard not to notice such a charming presence intently listening in on the homily he had prepared in a crowd of churchgoers who looked half asleep.

(He would be lying if he said that the both of you weren't attractive too. Unfortunately, lying is definitely a sin. Hence, he simply admits it in his mind and files it away in a mental archive for… further reflection when he has the time. Ugh, it’d be better if that man next to you put down the book he was reading.)

If he injected a little more pep into his homily after you piqued his interest, then no one but God has to know.

However, he's later promptly caught off guard when the two of you were the first ones to approach him after mass for a chat. Kaveh’s never one to turn down an opportunity to get to know and welcome new parishioners so of course he enthusiastically grasped at the chance to talk to the both of you.

Sparing a subtle glance up and down, he drinks in the sight before him. You were both dressed impeccably, not a single hair out of place, sinfully glamourous. But Kaveh knows better than to ogle so he tears his gaze away and instead focuses on making conversation instead.

“A blessed morning to the both of you! I don't think I've ever seen you two in the early morning congregation before, I am Father Kaveh, the priest of this parish.”

He extends a hand for a handshake, first towards you, which you grasp firmly. When you make contact with him, Kaveh is slightly taken aback at the heightened warmth of your touch on his skin.

“Sorry, I’ve been told I run hotter than most, but it’s a pleasure to meet you, Father Kaveh,” your voice is smooth and pleasing to the ear, a shake snaking its way down his spine when you say your own name. Silently, he repeats your name in his mind, and he’s further charmed when you remark, “I’ve heard a lot about you, all good things, don’t worry, which is why Alhaitham and I came to see you.”

Kaveh’s head swivels to look over at the other, Alhaitham, and when he shakes his hand, he finds out that the both of you run rather hot. There’s a book held in his other hand, the one he was reading earlier during mass.

“Likewise, a pleasure to meet you,” Alhaitham says, levelling Kaveh with an unreadable stare, “We look forward to getting to know you more.”

At this, Kaveh beams, a cheery grin on his face, “As do I. If you ever need it, the mass timings are always in the weekly church bulletin, I hope to see the two of you more often.”

He excuses himself to chat with the other parishioners, bidding the two of you goodbye. However, even whilst talking to the others and hearing about their day-to-day troubles, and throughout the rest of the week, he finds his mind drifting back to the both of you. What makes you so memorable, so charming to him? Is it the way you carry yourself? Your voice? Or is it simply just, you?

He catches himself looking forward to the next mass where he might see you again, to spot your faces amidst the tired crowd, to converse again. And he does, every Sunday morning mass.

Kaveh sees you and Alhaitham sitting in the same pew every time you attend and it’s almost like clockwork whenever his eyes quickly dart over to the two of you when he’s addressing the congregation. And he firmly attests that you crack him a small smile when you catch him doing so, as if you knew he was going to glance over at that very second.

Over the weeks, he’s grown attached despite the warning bells scolding him not to at the back of his mind.

“Kaveh, get a hold of yourself, you’ve dedicated yourself to the church, this is no way to be thinking of your parishioners,” slapping his cheeks lightly, he tries to shake the thoughts of you out of his head but it seems like no matter what he does, you’ve managed to slither your way into his brain, where you now reside in 24/7.

Sighing, he says a prayer (one imploring for the strength to resist temptation) before he tucks himself into bed for a restful night.

Except, it’s anything but.

As soon as he succumbs to slumber, his eyes snap open at the sensation of a hand stroking through his hair. They adjust to the ceiling light in his room, strange, didn’t he turn them off before sleeping?

Blearily looking up, he sees the twin troubles plaguing him. But there’s no way the two of you are here, you don’t know the church grounds that well and there should be no reason for you to know which room he stays in either. It’s all improbable and that’s how he figures out that this is just some sort of fucked up lucid dream. (A small buried part of him deflates at this knowledge for some reason.)

“Hey Father Kaveh, sorry we couldn’t wait until the next Sunday, so we’ve come to see you early,” your words snap him out of his thoughts.

“Oh no, for you to infiltrate even my dreams, just how much am I thinking about the two of you?” Kaveh grumbles as his hand goes to rest over his eyes. He hears you chuckle before Alhaitham speaks next.

“So you think about us too?” The bed shifts and another hand joins in to roughly tussle his hair.

“Begrudgingly so, it’s as if you’ve consumed my every waking thought,” a weak sigh, “Maybe it’s a test from above, something meant to test me.”

“That’s rough, Father Kaveh, to be reduced to ‘something meant to test you’, after all these weeks,” you feign a watery tone, “Is that all you see us as?”

“No! Of course not!” He yells out, snapping to sit upright and grabbing your hands. As if he could ever see you as a burden to shoulder. You’ve been nothing but courteous and kind to him, a rare indulgence in his routine days and scheduled masses. Someone who actually consistently converses with him, asking about him, caring for him.

The bed shifts again, Alhaitham and you moving to sit in closer next to him, and you ask, “That’s a relief, then what do you see us as?”

Kaveh feels that familiar quiver snake its way down his spine, like all those weeks ago when it first started, the words caught in his throat as he scrambles to produce an appropriate yet truthful answer to your loaded question.

“I… I can’t lie,” his voice is shaky, trying to navigate the chaos in his mind for the right thing to say.

“It’s fine, you can tell us,” Alhaitham’s voice lulls.

Whatever. It’s a dream after all.

Kaveh sucks in a breath before blurting out, “My thoughts about the two of you have veered into more sinful territories-!”

A beat of silence passes and he buries his face into his hands, bright red all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“Such an honest priest we have here on our hands, anything else you want to confess, Father Kaveh?” Your tease makes him flush even more, intense embarrassment washing over him but it changes instantly when you turn his hand over and gently kiss the back of it.

Great, now his mind is making him dream of such situations?

His vision spins when he feels Alhaitham’s hands roam up his back, the heat permeating through his pyjamas as you lean in next to his ear, your breath on his exposed skin hot, hot, hot.

“I would give you your penance but it seems like we’ve run out of time, shame,” your tongue darts out to lick the shell of his ear and he shakes. You snap your fingers.

“Wake up.”

Kaveh snaps up, awake for real this time. The warm sunlight streams in through a window but he can’t find it in himself to enjoy such a wonderful morning when his mind is still reeling from such a depraved dream. He looks down. He’s hard.

No matter what he does, his usual morning prayers, an awfully cold shower, nothing helps to solve his problem. And he’s running out of time with the next scheduled mass coming up soon.

Biting his bottom lip, he experimentally presses his palm against his clothed cock, immediately rewarded with a rush of pleasure through his body. Repeating the action, he palms his erection, breath coming out in pants at the ramping buzz in him.

“Hah… Forgive m-me Father, for I- ah! -have sinned,” Kaveh blubbers out pitifully between breaths, praying as he tries to tear his mind away from the sin of his act.

He’s never… touched himself in such a way before, and to discover how terrifyingly addictive the bliss that he’s been holding himself back from experiencing all this time is, he feels his resolve crack.

Hurriedly, he shimmies his pants and underwear down, just enough for him to wrap his hand around his cock, revelling in the newness of the sensation. He starts with a light tug, aided by the amount of precum from his earlier palming, and the direct friction goes to muddy his brain. He resorts to biting down on his finger to muffle his noises lest anyone comes down the corridor.

Thoughts of you and Alhaitham flood his brain, the way his hands crept up his back, your tongue on his skin. Unconsciously, his hand speeds up its pace, slick sounds and stifled lewd moans filling the room the more he thinks about the two of you, the fantasies growing more and more unrestrained.

What would you think if you found out this is how your church’s priest spends his time? Would you berate him? Or would you indulge him? Maybe you’d teach him how to masturbate, your hand covering his own as you guide him on how to stroke your dick while Alhaitham steals kisses from him.

He thinks of your voice whispering lowly into his ear, frighteningly realistic, “We want you, Kaveh.”

Head thrown back, he feels the pressure building up to a peak in him, muscles draw taut as a blinding white-hot pleasure shoots through him, and he cums for the first time in his life ever, the forbidden fruit that he’s denied himself up till now.

Kaveh struggles to catch his breath after his high, desperately rutting into his hand to ride it out. After he does, he’s instantly filled with an indescribable guilt, rushing into the bathroom to wash off the evidence of his act, staring at his dishevelled appearance in the mirror.

How could he think of you in such a way? (How could he not?)

The next time he approaches the both of you after mass, he makes sure to do it after most of the crowd has already gone off, leaving the three of you alone. Avoiding your gazes, he starts.

“Apologies to keep the two of you waiting… some of the others had a lot to chat about,” a forced laugh, “But it is in my best interest that I should stop interacting so much with you both.”

You give him a quizzical look and Alhaitham quirks an eyebrow at his words, making him quickly tack on some reassurance, “It’s not the fault of either of you, worry not. And it would be too much for me to get into-”

“Certainly not,” Alhaitham cuts him off, his voice alluring, “It’s fine, you can tell us.”

Unable to stomach the thought of his relationship with you souring and ending on a bad note, he swallows down his fear and invites the two of you to his quarters to come clean about everything.

So, how is it that he’s found himself in this position?

It started out already rather lewdly in your mind.

Catching wind of a devout priest in town, loved by many, adored by most. Naturally, it was your job as an incubus to corrupt him. And they’ve assigned your lovely junior, Alhaitham, as your partner in sin.

The first meeting went well enough, charming Kaveh without the use of your powers, it seems as if he was as taken with you as you were with him. His lovely blond locks, his sweet voice, that downright sinful waist of his. How long would it take until he would snap and tumble into bed with the two of you so that you could defile him and show him the delectable paradise of ecstasy that he’s been abstaining from?

Over the weeks, you’ve teased Kaveh in the most minute of ways. Sly innuendos tossed in nonchalantly during conversations, lingering touches that you can see him secretly longing for. And perhaps you can’t say that Alhaitham and you aren’t unaffected by his charm too.

The impatience was driving the both of you wild, judging from how uncharacteristically antsy he’s been behaving. You’re no stranger to being intimate with him, indulging him when he gets particularly needy. And you can tell he’s pent up when he’s grinding on your thigh as he kisses you, so spoiled.

When you break apart, cupping his cheek, you ask, “Think our priest is asleep yet? How about we pay him a little visit?” Snapping your fingers, you transport the two of you into Kaveh’s dream, where you plant the final seeds of temptation and guide him down the blissful path of damnation.

The dream ended way too fast for your liking but it all worked out in the end, since now you’re here, in Kaveh’s room with him seated in your lap facing you.

Kaveh’s mind is spinning, unable to comprehend how fast all this is moving. First, he invites the two of you in to talk everything over in a more private location. Then, everything comes spilling out, his thoughts about you, even the sensual dream. His eyes are pinned to his hands clenched into fists in his lap, in fear that your gazes might be one of disgust towards him. It’s all too much, he’s backed himself into something too raw and too vulnerable and he can’t help when tears well up in his eyes, falling onto his hands.

A quick glance over to Alhaitham, and you pull Kaveh into your lap, an act to console him. Gently moving his head onto your shoulder for him to cry into, you shush him.

“Oh Father Kaveh, please don’t feel so guilty, after all, isn’t it natural to be tempted?” Patting the back of his head, you watch as Alhaitham rises from his seat and moves Kaveh’s long hair aside to brush his lips along the exposed skin of his nape.

“If holding it all in is causing you so much distress,” Alhaitham plants a kiss on Kaveh’s neck, “Perhaps giving in is the answer.”

“...No, I can’t,” Kaveh weeps, yet there’s a hesitation in his voice, as if he’s not fully convinced that he should turn away from the pleasure that you two can bring him.

“No one has to know,” your hands cup the sides of his face and move him so that you can look into his eyes, the sincerity behind them startling him when you say, “We want you, Kaveh.”

The world seems to stop when you say those words, his heart soaring and in the split second, his resistance slips away. He abandons it all for you, for a longing reciprocated, for a tangible love, and he presses his lips onto yours.

He whines into the kiss when you take charge, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip and he gasps. When you enter his mouth, your saliva mixing with his, his breath hitches as his desire suddenly heightens tenfold. You can feel him getting hard in your lap, ever so slightly grinding down without even realising it.

“Will you let us take you apart? Allow us to worship and love you like you deserve? To open your eyes to the true salvation of human pleasure?”

Kaveh’s drowning in your words, the blessing that the two of you are gracing him with, leaving him bare and naked in his longing.

“Please.”

Soon, you have the blond seated on the edge of his bed and stripped of all his clothing, except for his white clerical collar, which still lays clasped loosely around his neck.

“Look at you Father Kaveh, perhaps mankind was indeed made in God’s image,” you watch on from above him as Alhaitham laves a tongue over Kaveh’s clavicle, “If not, how else would you look so divine?”

He flushes crimson at your praise, bashful at how unaffected you are in this scenario. You move and sit next to him on the bed, unzipping your pants as he watches on with bated breath.

“From your mouth to God’s ear, Father Kaveh, your fantasies have been heard and they’ll be fulfilled today.”

Like him, you’re already hard, precum beading at your tip. Your hand goes to grab his, bringing it over and wrapping it around your shaft. Covering his hand with yours, you entertain his desires, cooing as you slowly start to move his hand, pumping your cock at a steady pace while you savour the sensation of his hand.

Kaveh’s eyes are glued to the sight of you guiding his hand up and down on your length, the warmth of your hand over his own. He’s enraptured until he feels fingers under his chin, tilting his head up and suddenly he’s locking lips with Alhaitham. When he realises that the two of you are actually recreating the scene from his imagination, his mind is left reeling.

He moans into the kiss with Alhaitham when he feels you throb in his hand, more pre dribbling from your tip.

“You’re so good, Father Kaveh, always so kind, so understanding, hmm?” Your praise gets him so worked up, his hips uselessly rutting up against nothing but something settles onto his lap and presses against his own cock. Cracking his eyes open, he realises that Alhaitham has slotted himself into his space, and breaking away from the kiss so that Kaveh can breathe, he frots his erect hard-on against Kaveh’s.

“Maybe this way I’ll keep your attention on me too,” the grey haired male says, hands going to rest at Kaveh’s hip to steady himself as he ruts.

He can feel his legs shaking as that daunting pressure starts to build inside of him again like before. The pacing of his strokes under your hand begins to falter as he chases after his high, grinding more and more frantically against the man in his lap.

But just as he’s seconds away from reaching his orgasm, Alhaitham clambers out of Kaveh’s space, at the same time, you remove his hand from your body

The sudden detachment brings him back down from his almost peak, his mind clearing up just enough for him to whine out, “Wh- What was that for?”

“We’re saving the best for last, Father Kaveh,” you say as the two of you manhandle his pliant body into position.

Alhaitham’s beneath him, hands gripping the headboard as he lays on his back, facing upwards. Alternatively, Kaveh’s on all fours on the bed, hands and knees on either side of Alhaitham with you standing at the foot of his bed, hands firmly gripping onto his hips.

“Are you ready to take us into your heart, to accept us for all that we are,” and you all but purr his name, “Kaveh?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” he begs, desperation akin to a sinner’s prayer.

“Such a lovely obedient lamb, truly the best one in the flock. I’d say you should finally get a reward for such excellent behaviour,” He gulps at your words, the praise you’re showering him in muddling his thoughts as he anticipates whatever the two of you have planned for him.

Goosebumps rise on his skin when you trace a blunt nail up his spine. However, the breath is punched from his chest when he looks back down at Alhaitham, pointed horns crowning his head, emerging from his mop of grey hair. His head snaps to look at you over his shoulder where he sees a similar sight. Coiled horns like a ram’s adorn you, leathery unfurled wings, and a long slender tail that’s tipped with a heart at the end.

“My dearest lamb, I ask you once more. Do you take us into your being, to love us for what we are,” your voice takes on a sultry tone, dripping with sinful indulgence, “To let us defile you?”

His head bowed, he dutifully replies, “I offer all of myself up to you.”

And with this, you partake in the feast of him.

Coating your fingers in your thick aphrodisiacal spit, you rest one hand on his ass, spreading him apart as you prod at his rim.

“Relax for me, Father Kaveh, you’re in good hands and we’ll never lead you astray.” You hear him release the breath he’s holding and he untenses, allowing you to slip a finger into him.

“Ah-!” The sensation is unfamiliar but not unwelcome, the stretch gradually turning into a growing pleasure thanks to its aphrodisiac qualities, slowly getting used to the feeling of being filled as you prepare him to take you.

A finger loops through his clerical collar and pulls him down. Looks like Alhaitham’s had enough of being ignored. He kisses him like a man starved, teeth clacking noisily as he drinks in Kaveh’s moans.

Taking this opportunity to slip in another finger, your other hand goes to grip his waist, steadying him as he loses himself to the mounting delectation. Scissoring your fingers, it proves to be too much for the inexperienced Kaveh and his legs give out from beneath him, pressing him against Alhaitham’s body.

“Haitham, did you prep yourself beforehand?” He nods briskly at your question. Lowering yourself down so you’re bearing down on Kaveh, you lick the shell of his ear, (he shivers), and ask.

“Do you think Haitham can take you? He’s been waiting for you for so long, he’s even prepared himself for you.”

Between dazed blinks, Kaveh manages to process your words, nodding his head and muttering out a dumb, “Uh- Uh huh.”

With this, Alhaitham lines his hole up with Kaveh’s drooling cock, and with you pushing down on his hips from above him, Kaveh’s head pushes past Alhaitham rim, a guttural growl leaving your junior’s lips at the sensation of Kaveh sinking into him with your guidance.

“M-Move please…!” Alhaitham groans out when Kaveh doesn’t seem to do anything when he bottoms out inside of him. The lewd heat that surrounds his length overloads his mind, bliss coursing through every vein in his body.

The erotic sight of your two sweethearts under you, the one who’s supposed to be the incubus pleading for sweet salvation from the once-pure, clueless lamb laying above him who’s finally had a taste of the forbidden fruit. Both of them dewy-eyed and left greedily wanting more. It’s easily all too tempting.

You remove your fingers from Kaveh with a wet shlick! before replacing it with your tip at his entrance. As you push into him, the pressure causes him to reach deeper into Alhaitham, resulting in a lascivious harmony of wanton moans in the room.

And when your tip brushes past his prostate for the first time, he can’t help but mewl, “O-Oh God!”

“Rude to call out someone else’s name when- ugh! -you have two incubi pleasuring you right here, Father Kaveh!” Punctuating this with a sharp thrust, you wring a drawn-out cry from Kaveh.

“S-Sorry! For- hng!! -forgive me!” Pitifully sobbing out, he rocks his hips clumsily back against yours, urging you to fully sheathe yourself in him. With his motions, Alhaitham finally gets the stimulation he’s yearned for, as Kaveh moves in time with your thrusts.

Your tail wraps itself around Kaveh’s thigh when you encircle your hands around his slim waist.

“I’ll fuck you so good that you’ll be worshipping me when I’m done with you.”

Pulling out until just your tip is left in him, you position your mouth at his shoulder and when you bite down on his pristine untainted skin, it’s the only warning he gets before you sink your length back into him, all the way down to the hilt.

You’ve left your mark on him, marred him, sullied him, defiled him for all of eternity in the eyes of the church. But Kaveh can’t find it in himself to care, too fucked out from the carnal pleasures he’s wrapped up in right now. The way you pound into him, the way Haitham’s walls squeeze down on him. Who is he to say that this isn’t heaven on earth? Who is he to say that this is damnation?

Perhaps he’s found his God in you.

“Hah! God, please! I’m close- ah! -so so close!” He’s delirious and Alhaitham swears he can almost see the hearts in Kaveh’s eyes.

“Calling me your god now, Father Kaveh?”

“Yesss! Please, I’m s-so close, let me- hng! -finish, God, I beg of you!” Kaveh quivers under you as both him and Alhaitham approach their climax. Their breaths come out in ragged pants as you speed up your pace, also chasing your own peak.

“Then take all I give unto you, Kaveh,” you bury yourself as deep as possible as his walls clamp down on you, his head thrown back in ecstasy as the three of you cum together. The searing rapture rips through him as you fill him up, eyes wrenched shut with him seeing stars behind his eyelids. His lower abdomen feels hot as he cums into Alhaitham, whose eyes have rolled back into his sockets, breath hitching at his orgasm.

You complete it with short shallow thrusts, helping the both of them through the fading waves of pleasure, wringing out the last of their debauched noises. When you pull out of Kaveh, a raspy whine rips from him. Manoeuvring his spent body to lie on his back, you’re pleased to see that the session took, evident from the glowing fuchsia tattoo on his lower abdomen.

Pressing a kiss against it, Kaveh shakes at the increased stimulation. Curious, he peers down at it, ghosting his fingers over it as he watches the tattoo’s glow intensity slowly fade and settle into a faint pink outline.

“The three of us have been unified, we’re bound together now, my dearest lamb.”

Alhaitham lazily rolls over to leave a kiss on Kaveh’s cheek before you pull him in by his clerical collar for a chaste kiss on the edge of his lips.

And suddenly, his Sunday mornings don’t seem so dull anymore.

[> You add a clerical collar to your collection.]

Thank you kindly for reading. Consider supporting on kofi if you enjoyed this or visit the other doors.

#📜.Shapeshifting Hallways #📜.qi writings #📜.qi musings #genshin x reader #genshin smut #sub genshin #kaveh x reader #kaveh smut #sub kaveh #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #sub alhaitham #dom reader #top reader #kinktober #incubus smut

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nellasbookplanet · 5 months

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Book recs: Queer science fiction, part 1

There is a lot of queer sf out there, and I read a lot of sf. When I started working on this list, I quickly realized it was impossible to include all that I've read and enjoyed in one single rec post. Thus, this is the first of so far three queer sci-fi book rec posts.

A note: queer here does not necessarily mean "guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending", but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/a-spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don't always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of "gay best friend" or a blink and you'll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.

Previous book rec posts:

Really cool fantasy worldbuilding, really cool sci-fi worldbuilding, dark sapphic romances, mermaid books, vampire books, many worlds: portal fantasies, many worlds: alternate timelines, robots and artificial intelligences, post- and transhumanism, alien intelligences

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley*

Dietz is a soldier in the war between Earth and Mars - to travel to the battle front, she and her fellow soldiers are broken down into light to be able to quickly travel across space. But something keeps going wrong with Dietz's travels; her memories don't match up with the mission briefs, as she experiences time itself turning in on itself. Is she going mad? Or are the things she's learning skipping through time the truth - and the war that's stealing her life the lie? A mindfuck of a book that's scathing in its critique of fascism and war. Features a sapphic lead but no romance.

A Psalm for the Wild-Built (Monk and Robot duology) by Becky Chambers

Novella. Long ago, robots, upon gaining sentience, simply laid down their work and walked into the wilderness. Long after, a tea monk looking for purpose follows after them into the wilds, where they come across one of the robots seeking its own sort of answers. While not plotless, this story focuses more on character and vibes over plot. Also has a nonbinary main character and features conversations on gender between human and robot.

Meet Me In Another Life by Catriona Silvey*

Thora and Santi are strangers, brought together by a coincidence and torn apart just as abruptly when tragedy strikes. But this is neither the first nor the last time they meet - again and again they encounter each other, as friends, lovers, enemies, family, every time recognizing in each other a familiarity no one else carries. But with every new life, a mysterious danger grows ever closer, forcing them to find out the truth of their connection. This is a puzzle-box of a story that goes some entirely unexpected places in a very wild ride, featuring a bisexual co-lead.

The Archive Undying (The Downworld Sequence) by Emma Mieko Candon

In a world where AI gods sometimes lose their minds and take entire populations down with them, Sunai was the only survivor when his god went down. In the 17 years since, he has wandered on his own, unable to either die or age, drowning his sorrows in drink and men. But his attempts to flee his past comes to a stop as he is forced back into the struggle between man and machine. Featuring some pretty wild world building and narrative techniques, this book will definitely confuse you, but it is worth the experience.

The Paradox Hotel by Rob Hart

January Cole works security at the Paradox Hotel, last stop for tourists heading for the timeport, which allows them to travel to and witness any moment in time. But years of proximity to the timeport has left its damage on January, making her unstuck in time, letting her relive memories of her dead lover even as her sanity slips away bit by bit. As she starts witnessing proof of a horrible crime in the hotel that no one else can see, January must race against her own mind, a killer, and time itself to solve it before it's too late.

A Fractured Infinity by Nathan Tavares

Hayes Figueiredo is a struggling film-maker who wants to finish his documentary, whose life gets turned upside down when handsome physicist Yusuf Hassan enters his life, claiming an alternate version of him is a great inventor who’s sent a mysterious device to their universe. As Hayes gets drawn deeper into the conspiracy - and his feelings for Yusuf intensify - he has to decide just how far he’s prepared to go to win the life and the love he wants. Featuring a very gay and very morally dubious lead, this is a creative and strange read.

Bridge by Lauren Beukes

When she was little, Bridge and her mother Jo used to play a game - one where they traveled to other worlds, inhabiting the bodies of their other selves. Now Jo is dead, and as Bridge is cleaning out her apartment she finds a strange device: a dreamworm, the very thing that supposedly makes inter-dimensional travel possible. Suddenly faced with the possibility that multiverse travel is real, Bridge is struck by a different question: could her mother still be alive? Scifi spiced with a healthy dose of body horror and some absolutely wild twists, Bridge also features a bisexual lead (however this is a blink and you’ll miss it moment) and a nonbinary co-narrator.

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers series) by Becky Chambers

Rosemary Harper just got a job on the motley crew of the Wayfarer, a spaceship that works with tunneling new wormholes through space. With a past she wants to leave behind, Rosemary is happy to travel the far reaches of the universe with the chaotic crew, but when they land the job of a life time, things suddenly get a lot more dangerous. A bit of a tumblr classic in its day, this is a cozy space opera with an episodic feel and vividly realized characters and cultures. While pretty light on romance and focusing found family, there is a main f/f relationship.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship's leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed work force as they travel toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship's sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

Ninefox Gambit (The Machineries of Empire trilogy) by Yoon Ha Lee*

Military space opera where belief and culture shape the laws of reality, causing all kinds of atrocities as empires do everything in their power to force as many people as possible to conform to their way of life to strengthen their technology and weapons. It’s also very queer, with gay, lesbian and trans major characters, albeit little to no romance.

The Left Hand of Darkness (Hainish Cycle) by Ursula K. Le Guin

1969 classic. Genly Ai is an emissary sent to the planet of Winter, meant to help facilitate Winter's inclusion in a growing intergalactic civilization. But he's unprepared for Winter's citizens, who spend much of their time genderless or switching between genders, making for a culture wildly different from that Genly is used to.

Too Like the Lightning (Terra Ignota series) by Ada Palmer*

Centuries in the future, humanity has deliberatly engineered society to be as utopian as possible, politically, socially, sexually, religiously. Written in an enlightenment style and featuring questions of human nature and whether it’s possible to change it, and what price we’re prepared to pay for peace, this book is simultaneously very heavy and very funny, and written in a very unique style. While still human, the society presented often feels starkly alien.

The Stars Are Legion by Kameron Hurley

This book fucked me up when I read it. It’s weird, it’s gross, there’s So Much Viscera, there are literally no men, it has living spaceships and biotech but in the most horrific way imaginable. Had I to categorize it I would call it grimdark military sf. It’s an experience but not necessarily a pleasant one.

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling*

Possibly one of the most unsettling books I’ve ever read, and definitely the most claustrophobic. Gyre, a caver on an alien planet, ventures into the dark and dangerous underground, guided only by a woman who has no compunctions on using and manipulating Gyre as she sees fit to obtain her secretive goals down in the caves.

Escaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus series) by Nicky Drayden

While my feelings on Escaping Exodus were mixed, it cannot be denied that the dynamic between the two leads and the way they go from childhood best friends to enemies on different sides of a class and power struggle is very delicious. It also features some really cool worldbuilding of living, alien generation spaceships and the human culture that has developed inside them.

The Doors of Eden by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

The Doors of Eden is something of an experiment in speculative biology, featuring versions of Earth in which various different species were the one to rise to sentience, from dinosaurs to neanderthals. Now, something is threatening the existence of all timelines, dragging multiple different people and species into the struggle, among those a pair of cryptid hunting girlfriends and a transgender scientist.

Ascension by Jacqueline Koyanagi

Ascension follows Alana Quick, an expert Sky Surgeon who stows away on a spaceship in hopes of landing herself a job. But the ship and its crew are in deeper waters than she expected, facing threats emerging from a whole other universe, all of them searching for the same person: Alana’s spiritually enlightened sister. Undeniably a bit of an odd read, Ascension is also very creative and features polyamorous lesbian relationship.

Contagion (Contagion duology) by Erin Bowman*

Young adult. After receiving an SOS, a small crew is sent on a standard search-and-rescue mission. But what they find are not survivors awaiting help, but an abandoned site, full of dead bodies and crawling with something... monstrous. No romance, but features one sapphic co-lead and one who can easily be read as demisexual (however this doesn't show up until book two, which has more romance).

A Memory Called Empire (Texicalaan duology) by Arkady Martine

Mahit Dzmare is an ambassador sent to the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire, where she discovers that her predecessor has died. Trying to protect her home, an independent mining station, from being taken over by the empire, Mahit struggles to find out the truth of her predecessor's death while carrying the voice of his ghost in her head, guiding her as best he can. Light on the romance but does feature a sapphic relationship.

The Outside (The Outside trilogy) by Ada Hoffman*

AKA the book the put me in an existenial crisis. Souls are real, and they are used to feed AI gods in this lovecraftian inspired scifi where reality is warped and artifical gods stand against real, unfathomable ones. Autistic scientist Yasira is accused of heresy and, to save her eternal soul, is recruited by post-human cybernetic ‘angels’ to help hunt down her own former mentor, who is threatening to tear reality itself apart. Sapphic main character.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on. Queer in the sense that the Oankali doesn't follow human ideas of gender and relationships, which is mirrored in their romantic relationships with humans. It is, however, pretty dark, with examinations of agency and consent, so enter with caution.

Remnant by Kate Genet

One day, Cass wakes up and finds everyone else is gone. Not dead, just gone, leaving her in a world which nature starts taking back with a dangerous, unnatural speed. But as she tries to survive this new normal, Cass realizes she may not be alone after all - but who else is out there, and are they a threat?

The Scorpion Rules (Prisoners of Peace duology) by Erin Bow*

Young Adult. Featuring a dystopian future in which an AI forcibly keeps world peace by holding the children of world leaders hostage. If anyone attempts to start a war, their child will be executed. Greta is one of these children, kept in a school with others like her. But things start to change one day when a new, less obedient hostage arrives. A unique, slowburn take on the YA dystopian craze, also featuring a bisexual love triangle.

Iron Widow (Iron Widow series) by Xiran Jay Zhao

Young adult. Zetian is a citizen of Huaxia, where mecha aliens are constantly trying to breach the Great Wall. To keep them at bay, couples of men and women pilot so called Chrysalises, giant transforming robots. But the pilots are not equal - the women almost always die, sucked dry by their co-pilots. When Zetian sets herself up to become a concubine-pilot, she does so with the plan to assassinate the male pilot who caused her sister's death. Features a polyamorous main relationship.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool:

Survival Instincts by May Dawney

Lynn Tanner has been surviving the post-apocalypse alone with only her dog for a long time, trusting no one. But when she's forced to travel the dangerous remains of New York City alongside another woman, her priorities are challenged. Is staying alone really the best way to stay alive?

These Burning Stars by Bethany Jacobs

When con-artist Jun Ironway gets her hands on possible proof of the powerful Nightfoot family, controllers of interplanetary travel, committing genocide, she has in her hands a chance of taking them and their monopoly down. But the family and their allies won't go down easily, and sends two brutal clerics to stop her.

Everfair by Nisi Shawl

A neo-victorian alternate history, in which a part of Congo was kept safe from colonisation, becoming Everfair, a safe haven for both the people of Congo and former slaves returning from America. Here they must struggle to keep this home safe for them all.

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pokedawriter · 3 months

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Nymph!Reader x Sumeru!Men

Gn!reader, you're a nymph

How would the sumeru men react to finding you and your grotto

I still have no idea what I'm doing

I've never written for Cyno, Alhaitem or Scara so forgive me if something is out of character

Cyno

He's patrolling the desert. There have been lots of cave-ins in the area recently and he wants to figure out if there is a specific cause that he can solve or if he should just warn people about the area

As he walks, he feels the sand beneath his feet begin to fall and he tries to jump away but it's too sudden and he falls

He braces for impact but lands into a net of vines that gently lower him to the ground

Your standing next to him, arm extended with the sunlight on your back, looking gorgeous and radiant, then you speak

"I can't be-leaf someone fell into here. Water you doing here?"

Archons, he might have fallen in love with you at that moment

He asks you about the recent cave in and you tell him it the Wenut mating season, and they're all trying to make burrows for their young. An inexperienced male has been digging here but didn't dig deep enough, which is why there are so many cave-ins. You tell him to just wait a month or two for the season to end

The hole is fairly deep and so you build him a ladder out of vines and he promises to return

After reporting what happened with the cave-ins, he returns and finds you've been repairing your grotto in the mean time, removing the dirt and stones that fell

You're very excited to see him and take him deeper into your grotto, further underground

It's beautiful, with purple, white and yellow flowers illuminating the area. Glowing stones are scattered in the ceiling like stars

He makes a regular habit to visit you and introduces you to Tighnari pretty soon (but he doesn't visit much due to his incompatibility with the heat). You all like to have Genius Innovation TCG together (Cyno teaches you and gives you cards)

He finds himself falling asleep in your grotto, surrounded by the glowing flowers and flowing water

He has to stop visiting for a few months due to work, but tries to wrap it up as fast can to see you

When be returns, he finds your grotto has been severely damaged, much of the flora dying. He searches high and low for you, going to the deepest part of the grotto where rocks fall away and reveal a very weakened you

You tell him people found out about your grotto and stole as many of your rare plants as they could, weakening you greatly and you had to hide yourself and your remaining plants away

He's furious and immediately takes action

He works with Tighnari and Lesser Lord Kusanali to make you and your grotto a protected space

And though he can't punish the researchers for over-foraging (since you and your grotto weren't legally protected), he does let other researchers know of their actions, resulting in those researchers being shunned

He helps you and your grotto return to full health and always tries to visit once a week to 'keep away any trouble makers" (but he just wants to visit you)

You both often fall asleep together in the deepest part of the grotto, happy in each other's presence

Alhaithem

He was looking through the old archives. The scrolls and books here were no longer scientifically accurate, but were kept for record purposes

He's found an old book about mythical creatures of Sumeru: Aranara, Nymphs, Djinn, Rocs, and more. He decided to rent it out and give it a read

Reading it at his house wasn't an option as it would be too loud (Kaveh, whom he didnt feel like dealing with today), the Academia students and researchers were always bothering him if he was around (especially after the 'hero' title), so he decided to leave the city for a bit.

As he walked, he found a small cave and decided to read there

Inside was larger than he expected, with a small moss-covered shrine and little yellow flowers. He sat on one of the rocks to read

It was wonderfully calm and quiet. The right temperature, the trickle of water from a nearby stream, the rustle of the leaves... it was all perfect

So, he came back here again and again, reading his books late into the evenings

He was in the middle of his mythical creatures book, on Nymphs, when he felt a presence and immediately looked for it

You sat on the shrine, staring at him, head tilted in wonder

He looked between his book and its description of Nymphs and you... and it seems he found a mythical creature. Regardless, he continued to read and you continued to watch him

Eventually, he turned to you and asked why you were just staring at him, to which you shrugged and said "If a man were to walk in your yard everyday and read, doing nothing else at all, wouldn't you grow curious?"

He was mostly surprised by the fact you could respond. The book said that Nymph's were shy creatures who couldn't talk

But to you, this man had been a regular visitor to your grotto for months now. His scent was just part of your grotto, like the duskbirds and rishboland tigers. He wasn't a stranger at all

Alhaithem decided to ask you a few questions about Nymphs which you agreeably answered, even showing in the deeper parts of the grotto that he hadn't noticed were there

You both fell into a comfortable routine of him visiting you on his days off to read in comfortable silence while you worked on your grotto

Despite being able to talk in every language he could, he realized you couldn't read at all

He helped you learn how to read and you helped him relax and have the perfect reading spot

You became reading buddies, and even though you would ask him with question on words, it never bothered or annoyed him

He subtly made your grotto a legally protected area so if anyone messed with it, they would have to pay

You were his safe space, and in return, he would protect you too

Scara/Wanderer

Nahida asked him to go outside and touch grass more

Just kidding, she asked him to find a rare flower, only ever found underground in rare Nymph Gardens

She gave him a rough idea where he might be able to find it and off he went, grumbling the whole way

Finding the entrance to the cave wasn't hard. All he had to do then was follow the smell of fresh flowers. It was so simple for him (and most certainly didn't take him several days)

When he finally found your grotto, he couldn't find the flower Nahida had described for him and grumbled under his breath about it

This is where you come in: appearing next to his shoulder asking about what flower he was exactly talking about

You stare at him innocently even as he hold a swirl ball of anemo energy

You ask again and he asks who you are, cautious

"I'm the nymph of this grotto"

That can't be possible, Nymphs aren't real, surely you're pulling his leg

But you have flowers growing on you, the plants lean towards where you step and life seems to exude from you

He'll dispell his anemo attack and tell you about the flower. You nod and scoop it up a bit of dirt and grow the flower on it

He's wondering if there's a cost to it. You tell him it'll hurt you when he leaves with it. He asks what he owes you and you shrug and walk away to play with the springyness of a new fern

He brings the flower to Nahida then rushes back. Not because he's worried! He's just curious about the affects of removing the flower from your grotto (Nahida gives him a knowing smile as he leaves)

When he arrives, you're laying on the ground, looking unwell. He puts his hand to your forehead, and you're burning up

Why would you give the flower to him if it would hurt you so much?

"Because you needed it," you say with a smile

He'll take care of you for the next few days, your waking hours being filled with scolding and mild insults about how stupid it was to give all thay power to a stranger. What if they wanted to take advantage of you?

You laugh and smile. When he's not paying attention, you'll make little figurines out of flower of him

Then he'll notice and scold you for not resting properly, idiot (he does think it's very cute though)

He'll protest even when you insist you are perfectly healthy again

You'll take him to the deepest part of the grotto where you made a picture of the two of you in glowing flowers. He says it looks stupid, but you notice his little blush and giggle

He has to leave for a few days and during that time, treasure hoarders find your grotto

They have no respect for your plants, so you hide, slowly growing weaker and weaker as they pick and burn your plants

Needless to say, when Scara returns and sees you hanging on by a thread, he's pissed

He wipes them out and tends to you once again. It takes months this time until you are healthy, but he's by your side every step of the way

"Clearly, you can't take care of yourself, so I'll have to watch out for you! Hey! Don't giggle! What's so funny, idiot?"

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theendorisit · 1 month

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apropos of nothing, I made Tape-E

Who is Tape-E?

During one of the TMA livestreams (trying to remember which one), a fan question was asked ‘Is there a mascot (for the Archives or the show itself not sure)?’ One of the team suggested ‘Tape-y?’, to which everyone else responded with ‘Oh no!!’. So I thought, oh yes! So yeah, this is your fault 😘

What is Tape-E?

As Mr Bonzo is a parody of Mr Blobby, Tape-E is a parody of Clippy (these last two names rhyme).

Who is Clippy?

Clippy was a microsoft office assistant, introduced in 1997. He was a little virtual paperclip (officially called Clippit, but that name never caught on) who sat on the bottom right corner of the page, and was programmed to give advice in popup speech bubbles when certain actions were taken. For example, if you wrote out an address and ‘Dear’, Clippy would say ‘Looks like you’re writing a letter. Would you like help?’. The name Tape-E in the livestream seemed to be referring to Clippy, as there are many similarities in the behaviour of Clippy, and the actual tapes/ tape recorders in-universe:

always on by default

appears at inconvenient times

provides help you do not want

hated by (mostly) everyone

watching you with cold dead eyes

enjoyed by nostalgia and retro seekers

Why make Tape-E?

As I am of the same generation as some of the RQ peeps, I unironically loved Clippy and Mr Blobby as a child, and it gives me great joy to imagine, in the TMP universe, Sam getting a little pop up: ‘Looks like you’re trying to code a case file! Would you like some help with that?’ In our world this would be impossible - Windows NT (as the official name) was dropped in 1996, one year before Clippy was born, BUT there is voice recording on TMP’s ancient computers, so it’s not totally impossible! 😅😁

What are cassette tapes?

Just a little recap for those who didn’t grow up with tapes: Cassette Tapes contain information embedded in magnetic tape, wrapped around one spool and attached to a second spool. When played, the spools are turned by the machine and the magnetic tape is wound onto the other spool, the information read out through speakers as the magnetic tape moves through sensors. As the magnetic tape can contain different information depending on the direction of tape movement, you can flip the cassette tape over in the machine, and play the tape again, hearing another load of information. This concept is never utilised in the show, but it does mean that cassette tapes have A-sides, and B-sides (as Vinyl records do). Here, of course, this stands for Archivist-side, and Brutalpipemurder-side. On occasion, the magnetic tapes would become damaged, or bent, and could be pushed out of the cassette, causing a horrible noise, and terror to small children who were only trying to listen to their Just William tapes. When this happened, a pencil (or in my case, my little finger) could be jammed into the spiky spool ‘teeth’, to rewind the magnetic tape back into the cassette. Maybe that’s why the eyes are red? 🩸 I am very glad that the TMA tapes are magic, and record endlessly, never need flipping, and never get chewed up by the hungry machine.

Why is the name Tape-E?

Canon answer: the name stands for Tape-Eyes. Possibly Tape-Entity? Undecided.

Actual answer: Tape-y, Tapey and Tapie spellings look weird to me. I think Tape-E looks best.

Why a tape and not a tape recorder?

if you can crochet a tape recorder, you’re a genius and I love you.

What gender is Tape-E?

I might refer to Tape-E as male sometimes because that’s how people often referred to Clippy. But Tape-E is whatever gender Tape-E feels like being.

Why now?

Why not? also now is a good time because TMP episode 15 is an excellent episode

What’s going to happen to Tape-E?

I’m going to gift it to Jonny sometime, if we get more liveshows or book signings. It’s his fault this exists after all. Plus you can write whatever you like in the speech bubbles! Hopefully I can give it calmly? But maybe Tape-E will be yeeted in his general direction in a fit of ADHD-fuelled social anxiety. Only time will tell.

Tape-E is a pattern and design created entirely by myself. The inspiration and world building from whence it came, is entirely the genius of @jonnywaistcoat Jonny Sims, Rusty Quill @rqbossman and The Magnus Archives, which is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a creative commons attribution, non-commercial share alike 4.0 international license.

Clippy was invented by Microsoft and Kevan Atteberry, who now illustrates children’s books.

Mr Blobby is an adorable abomination, created from a fevered mind.

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trappolia · 2 months

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NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR ── dan heng x gn!reader x blade, former dan feng x gen!reader x yingxing, 2.4k

you dream of blood.

the golden ichor that seeps through the jagged cracks of an old, divine blade. the deep red that drips from your wounds as a cruel reminder of your mortality, an ever existing shadow that haunts you through all the ships you travel through.

you dream of love.

a golden hairpin that catches your eye while walking through the bustling streets of a marketplace. the red paint that smudges on a lover’s lips when you exchange kisses. strokes of black ink upon parchment, reading words more poetic than one can ever have the courage to say aloud.

it is dizzying, in the way all dreams are. you are sitting under the moon and sharing a drink with someone you consider your friend, family, lover, and the next you are driving your spear through his chest. there are no blades of grass on this ship, no grassy fields for you to hide in, and the tendrils that you feel swaying, rustling, in waves past your ankles, are the chains of the sins you bear as someone they call their beloved.

the crew of the astral express are a welcome distraction, kind and warm as they offer you their companionship in their own personal ways. you help march 7th pin up photos in her room, laughing as you reminisce over your past travels through silly selfies and scenic photos. you sit with himeko during breakfast over a cup of coffee (yours brewed by yourself rather than the gorgeous redhead, thank the aeons) and indulge in the peaceful silence, a sense of normality that the woman is more than happy to give you after all that you’ve been through. mr yang tells you stories of other universes, weaving the already existing threads of all the lives you’ve seen around you into something completely different yet the same— and sometimes you can’t help but wonder if he lived a different life before all this.

but no matter what, you always find your way back to dan heng.

though you have your own assigned room, the simple arrangement of a flat pillows and a blanket on the floor of the archives is as much of a home to you as it is to dan heng. you’ve spent many a night in his room, poring over texts and books with him, more often than not passing out on his lap or in his sleeping area.

( “they come as a pair,” march 7th once told the trailblazer when they asked about the two of you. “himeko said that arrived on this ship together. whatever they went through in the past, they made it through because they had each other. but that’s just what i think.” )

it’s true, in a sense. what would you have done without dan heng, travelling through all those ships that always met the same end? you wonder if you would’ve lasted long enough for himeko to find you and bring you to the astral express.

probably not.

dan heng feels responsible for you. he doesn’t say it, but it’s obvious. you once confessed your insecurities to him on a dark night, back when the two of you were still getting used to having a proper roof above your heads without fear of the ship getting attacked or waking up to security banging through the door.

( “what if they think i’m useless because i’m always clinging onto you?” you had asked him in a small, weak voice.

“…they don’t seem like those sort of people.”

“but what if?”

dan heng had looked at you, his expression tired and soft all at once as he sighed.

“then they’ll have a problem with me too.”

“why?”

“because,” he brushed his fingers over your gaunt cheekbones, worn from all that you’d been through. “i’m just like you. if something took you from my side, then i might as very well be useless to them.” )

there’s a known truth between the two of you, one that you never speak of; but you both know that it’s a fact. if you hadn’t been involved with dan heng — with him — you’d still be at home in the xianzhou alliance. you’d be blissfully oblivious to the convict on the loose, the exile who has returned home. you’d be living your life— a normal life.

but you aren't.

instead, you dream of him.

it should be impossible. bracers are not meant to be shared between a trio, and whatever gift you had been planning to share between the three of you was lost upon the exile. and yet, even without the ancient magic of the vidyadhara, he somehow manages to make his way into your dreams, haunting you like a ghost.

some nights, you dream of those arms that had always held you with such certainty, an impenetrable shield even when bloodied and battered. other nights, you dream of those hands driving a blade through dan heng’s heart, squeezing your throat until you take your last breath through a broken windpipe.

and every night, when you wake up from those dreams in dan heng’s arms, you feel that pain welling in your chest, settling for days as it finds comfort in its new home, made up of your aching lungs and your shattered heart. the days and nights blur together like this— haunted by a man still living and breathing, though not quite human, in the nighttime, and traversing through the worlds like a ghost searching for meaning in the daytime.

you don’t remember how it ended up like this. or do you? it all feels like a dream, all the details and images blurring together to be forgotten by morning. but it isn’t morning, and you can’t wake up from this reality. your head throbs. a concussion? who cares.

you can’t afford to let your guard down on this ship you once called home. you’re here for a reason, and though that reason is your top priority, you can’t afford to be caught either. the cloud knight that found you and dan heng — sushang — doesn’t seem to recognise either of you, and neither does the strange tradesman luocha, but you still can’t take any chances. panic blossoms in your gut, unsettling as you grip your weapon in your weak hands.

ah. that’s right. you’re fighting. reason grounds you with the fuzzy memory of your enemy standing before you— an ambush, because whatever forces are at work here clearly play just as dirty as the antimatter legion and that damned aeon they serve.

a fight you can’t lose, no matter how badly your head is throbbing right now, because you still have to find the others, have to save them from— from—

“ren,” your grip on your weapon loosens as the dust clears, revealing the man standing before you.

the enemy, your brain screams, though it can’t even make you move away. the word that slips through your lips is familiar, and yet not. your head hurts thinking of calling him by his true name, the name you called him before he turned into this.

blade, is what kafka called him.

ren, is what it means in your mother tongue, the language spoken in moonlit nights as the three of you sat under the stars, the silence broken only by a whisper of their names.

the name comes out as a quiet, pathetic croak, staring wide eyed at his figure. he’s frozen just as you are, his broken blade aimed straight at you with an arm that wavers just the slightest.

it’s like a domino effect; your walls crashing down the moment you see his mask slip for the smallest moment.

“yingxing!” your voice breaks as you call out to him again, almost desperately (it does not occur to you that you've let your memory slip, called out for a man long dead). your feet are moving from under you before you even realise it.

blade lunges forward, his sword drawn.

a desperate cry of your name wretches itself out of dan heng’s throat in a way that makes your heart ache, but it’s too late now. his warning comes only seconds after you’ve begun to run straight to danger, death, a threat to your life seemingly unseen to you as you surge forward like a blind lover, but you can see him.

the sharp angles of his face, the familiar bracer on his calloused hand, the searing heat of his vermilion eyes. he’s so close— close enough to kiss, close enough to kill, close enough to be reality rather than an illusion forged by a dream.

his blade is not what meets you. instead, it’s his hand. dan heng’s panicked screams is barely audible over your hammering heartbeat, your pulse quickening as blade’s calloused fingers wrap around your throat. he’s stronger than you — you would know even if he hasn’t been haunting your dreams all those years — and so he can easily snap you in half the second you’re in his clutches.

but then you’re pressed against him, back to his front. blade pulls you as close to him as humanly possible until you’re both flush, sharing the same, saccharine oxygen after years of breathing stale air through stone lungs. despite the sharp end of a sword held over your throat, you allow yourself to close your eyes, reveling in this single moment as if you’ve lived an eternity where the three of you had never once hurt each other. though he had an eternity without a single regard to how you’d hurt each other. in these stolen moments, you let yourself be stupid, oblivious, selfish, just to breathe properly for the first time in what feels like a millennium.

“let them go,” dan heng hisses, breaking you out of your reverie.

“no,” blade’s eyes narrow. there is no mocking in his expression, no sardonic smirk or cruel taunts. his walls are still up, none of that broken emotion that you’d only seen for a split moment when your eyes first met, but he lets himself drop the bravado. between the three of you, there is no such thing.

you whisper a soft cry of his name, making dan heng’s grip tighten on cloudpiercer as he moves to snatch you out of blade’s grip, but your former lover only growls.

“come any closer, and i’ll cut them.”

his voice is scratchy, worn like the calloused hands that are wrapped around your nape, squeezing almost painfully. a distant memory flashes in your mind, of these same calloused palms washing your back after a long day, cleaning the blood and grime.

these same hands could be stained with your blood, if he so wishes.

“you won’t,” dan heng hisses, and you hear something in him break like glass shattering on the floor. “you can’t.”

he sounds so sure of it, that this man will not slice that blade over your throat and take your life just as he had taken dan heng’s in so many eternities.

you’re reminded of the fact that no matter how many times the hourglass has turned over for dan heng, no matter how muddled his memories become, he once loved this man just as you did— once relished in his presence and touch as it lulled him back to sanity, masking the weight of all the sins the three of you had committed over the lifetimes your strings of fate had been entangled.

blade moves as if to cut your throat, to finally take the first life, the first step in the nth round of this cycle of violence, but his sword only manages to press down just the slightest against the skin of your neck before he stops himself. his hand — the one adorned by that damned bracer — shakes as he glares at dan heng with a look that can kill.

“fuck,” blade mutters under his breath. the word is not meant for you, but you hear anyway. blade pulls back from you roughly, and a barely audible whimper tears out of your throat when he suddenly pushes you forward and into dan heng’s arms.

dan heng’s eyes widen, clearly just as surprised as you when blade relinquishes his hold on you. he catches you with unsteady arms, trying to keep cloudpiercer levelled at blade as if the man will suddenly lunge forward and take him from you again.

blade stares at the two of you for a moment, watching as dan heng clutches you to his chest like you’ll disappear if he let go, as you hold a palm to your neck where the thinnest line of red bleeds through. his eyes narrow, and the only other indication of emotion in his face is the slightest downturn of his lips.

“i’ll be back,” blade says, and then there’s that cruel smile on his face again, a taunting glint in his eye as he looks at dan heng. “i’ve stolen your little eternity countless times before. what’s one more to the tally?”

dan heng growls, his grip tightening on cloudpiercer, “you damned—!”

but then blade’s already making his exit, leaping off the platform in a manner that gives you deja vu.

( a memory flashes in your mind, the image of him jumping off your balcony as jing yuan knocked on your bedroom door to make sure you were still asleep while dan feng dove under your bed for cover, a mundane moment of peace and carefreeness almost forgotten from where you had pushed it deep into crevices of your mind. )

i’ve stolen your little eternity countless times before. what’s one more to the tally?

after a breathless moment that seems to drag out for an eternity, dan heng’s arms finally uncurl from your frame, his eyes tracing your figure to make sure you’re unharmed. his eyes drag over the thin cut across your neck in an adagio, his breath hitching as he sees you bleeding the same colour of blade’s eyes.

“he didn’t kill me,” you breathe out. you don’t know why it’s only settling now. the relief is clear in your tone, but it’s obvious from the violent tremor of your hands that it’s only to mask your own uncertainty. "he didn't kill me."

dan heng is quiet. you’re too scared to look at him, at the expression on his face. you just stare at your shaking hands, and watch as he rests his palm over your own to soothe the tremors.

“he always had a soft spot for you,” dan heng whispers, something breaking in the tenor of his voice.

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sunkissed-yuan · 13 days

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𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅..

➥⊹ 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇: abuse! Drunk parents! Scars!

➥⊹ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: dan heng finds out your past and why you hide your face

➥⊹ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: platonic dan heng x reader

➥⊹ 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒂'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: rewrite from prev blog

It was just a normal day of you hiding your face, wearing the mask that himeko provided you oh so kindly.. But even if you wore a mask you never bothered to hide your eyes.. Your bangs always neatly trimmed.. It bothered dan heng.. He wasn't the type to be curious of a teen atleast.. He wondered how your past is like.. So he decided to sneak into your room while you were gone and read your diary.. When he read the diary he was shocked.. How could a child so innocent looking like you go through all of this.. It never seemed like you were ever abused.. Every abuse you got from your drunkard parents who abandoned you written clearly in your diary.. He couldn't but help tear up.. Sure he has his own past but that was from his adult age in his past life.. But you were a child.. Mistreated...

Few weeks later you've noticed that he's been avoiding you.. You also know he has read your diary.. So you decided to go inside the archives and take off your mask and stay there until he comes and read a book.. When he came back he was shocked to see you there.. What shocked the most was the scar on your face.. A big scratch on your cheek.. No wonder you've hidden that.. He couldn't help but hug you trying to comfort you when you finally let go of your emotions that you've been holding back

Thats when he felt at peace.. Your trust and happiness is all he needs.. He would protect you from anything or anyone wanting to harm you.. He's now your family..

𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥-𝘺𝘶𝘢𝘯© 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺, 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴!

#dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #dan heng x y/n #hsr x reader #hsr platonic #platonic hsr #hsr x you #hsr x platonic reader #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail #💻- 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 5 months

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The Silver Dragon (1)

The Bronze Bitch's Daughter

Prince Daemon Targaryen has grown tired of his Lady wife, the “Bronze Bitch” Rhea Royce. But he is not so easily rid of her. She survives not only his brutal attack, but his cruel violation of her. Though she remains broken and weak, she endures just long enough to deliver a child: a girl of silver hair and steely eyes.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: Heavily implied rape

Author's Note: Here's the first chapter of my rework of The Silver Dragon! I'm keeping the old versions up, but they will be labeled "archived."

*Important Note* While he's not the villain of the show or book, Daemon is the villain of this story. We are seeing him through the perspectives of people he's hurt in various different ways. As such, he is not as morally gray as you may be used to. If you think this will upset you, don't read. Thank you!

Series Masterlist - Next Chapter

Rhea Royce lay prone on the earth ground of her beloved Vale. But she could feel neither the cold of the stone nor the dampness of the grass and stone as it seeped through her hunting leathers and onto her skin. As the heat of her body met with the chill in the ground, the runes of protection etched into her pauldrons became fogged over – rendered unreadable.

She knew she should hurt. The pain should be unbearable. Yorwyck was a mighty beast, like the Bronze King he was named for. The whole weight of the horse had come down upon her, so there was no doubt he caused her great damage in his fall. She had heard the sharp cracking of her own bones. Yet she felt none of it.

All she could feel was fear.

The cloaked man waited until her steed was out of sight. Rhea was well and truly alone, with only the distant ramparts of Runestone peering from between the hills as witness to whatever would come next.

He approached her slowly, casually, as if he couldn’t hear her desperate whimpers. She knew he just didn’t care. He ran his violet eyes along her body as he approached her head. It was not a gaze of lust. He looked on her with the same disdainful curiosity as one examining a woodland rodent crushed by a cart.

As he stood directly over her, he turned his eyes from her face – he had always avoided looking at the face he found so displeasing. Instead, he turned to her outstretched arm. He took another step, raising his foot above Rhea’s lower arm. The ghost of a wicked smile danced in the corner of his mouth, and he stepped down.

Nothing.

He raised and pressed his foot down again several more times. Not to be sure, but to emphasize to his victim that she was utterly helpless – precisely as he wanted her. Rhea knew the horrors his men had inflicted on the criminals of King’s Landing and the followers of the Crab Feeder. She knew the cruelty he was capable of and of his unparalleled creativity. He had hated her for years. In all that time, he must have imagined countless ways to torture her.

Rhea braced herself for what would come next. At least she would not feel the pain.

But his steps retreated.

All the fear in Rhea’s heart evaporated, swiftly replaced by rage. After these long nine years, this was all he had for her? For nine years, he traveled the whole of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond, slandering her and her family in the courts, then further insulting her with his brazen whoring. She had lost count of how often he had called her “Bronze Bitch” and accused her of ruining his life. She had been anticipating a reckoning from him.

But this?

This was an insult she could not stand.

Rhea knew she would be signing her soul over to the Stranger, but she would not let Daemon Targaryen have the final say.

“I knew you couldn’t finish,” she spat at her retreating husband.

He turned back, looking at her face for the first time. Rage twisted his face, but his eyes were wide with shock. He had not expected that. But she was, after all, his Bronze Bitch.

What he said next had Rhea’s blood running cold as she thanked all the Seven that she would not feel what was to come. “My dear, lady wife,” he said, breath heaving and voice dripping with hateful venom, “perhaps it is time we consummate our union.”

The Lady of Runestone was dying, nine months on from her “accident.”

The people of the Vale were told that it was a miracle from the Seven themselves that she had survived such a devastating fall from her horse. Even more miraculous still, her husband had swooped in on dragonback to rescue her before she succumbed. He had even used his mount, Caraxes ‘the Blood Wyrm,’ to find and dispatch the offending horse. A true Targaryen prince, rescuing his bronze damsel. It was no wonder when her cousin and heir, Gerold, announced to the court that she was with child. They cared little that their Lady’s rescuer had swept flown out of the Vale as swiftly as he had arrived.

Only her cousin, her Maester, and her ladies-in-waiting knew the truth. Maester Kerith had spent countless hours binding the broken bones that could be saved, and those he could not, he promptly removed. When Lady Rhea next sat the Bronze Throne, she made sure her ladies dressed her in her riding leathers rather than a gown that would hide her injuries. She wanted her court to see what she had survived, even if they could not know the truth.

When it became clear that the consequences of what her husband had done extended beyond mere injuries, Maester Kerith offered her moon tea, but she refused. With her health still declining and her body struggling to overcome the trauma she had faced, she knew she would not survive long. But again, she refused to let Daemon have the final word in their hellish marriage. He had insulted her, paralyzed her, and raped her, but she would not let him forget her.

She would leave him with an Heir of Bronze.

The babe was born as the sun rose, though the day remained dark beneath the clouds that so often surrounded Runestone.

Rhea wept for the first time, having felt no pain throughout the birth, when she saw that her daughter had the silver-white hair of her father. She had prayed for months that her child would look just like her, to be a constant reminder of his Bronze Bitch. But the babe was just another silver Targaryen. Her final revenge had failed.

Gerold sat at her side, cradling the girl in his arms, as her mother could not. Then, as the babe began to cry, he held her out so Rhea could see her.

“Cousin, look at her eyes,” he whispered, all too aware of the grim looks on the Maester and Septas’ faces.

Rhea turned her head, lifting her neck as much as her weakening body would allow to try and glimpse her child through her tears. She looked past the white hair at the small but wide eyes that beheld her.

The slate grey eyes of Runestone, the Bronze Kings, and the First Men. Royce eyes.

Rhea smiled. Perhaps her revenge would not be as sharp as she would like, but so long as her daughter remained, Daemon would never forget her. He would always remember that he could not break her.

The Lady of Runestone’s breaths came slower, and though the Septas flurried around her, she paid them no mind. She had known all these months that she would not live to see the look on Daemon’s face when he first met his heir. She knew these were her last moments. But she did not want to spend them afraid. She wanted to spend them with her daughter.

Fitting, she thought, that Daemon’s heir should be a girl. His young niece had usurped his claim to the Iron Throne, and now his claim to Runestone was usurped by his own daughter.

And what a beautiful daughter she was. Rhea’s vision began to blur around the edges, and the voices of the others in the room faded as she beheld the babe. Her eyes were bright, even as she cried softly, and the silver-white of her gently curling hair seemed to bring out a metallic shine in her grey eyes. They complimented each other, as her parents never had.

This girl was not bronze.

“Arianwyn,” Rhea whispered, naming her child as the life, at last, left her broken body. Lady of silver.

It was not Prince Daemon who came to Runestone to receive the child on behalf of the Royal family, but the young Queen Alicent Hightower. She came with the unwelcome news that the child’s father had already remarried. Less than a month after he became a widower. He had departed with his new wife, Laena Velaryon, to Pentos without leaving instruction on the care of his daughter – or even acknowledging her birth.

Alicent, despite her reputation as a fierce supporter of her husband’s family, was more than empathetic to the child’s plight. It seemed to Ser Gerold that the young Queen held a similar opinion to his own regarding Daemon Targaryen. She commiserated with him on the pain the prince had caused his family, especially Rhea and her daughter. It seemed that As long as the prince had vexed the Royce family, he had been equally maddening to his brother.

But what was most shocking to Gerold and the court at Runestone was the offer the Queen brought: to bring the child to King’s Landing and raise her there. Despite her father’s indifference, the child was a Targaryen. It was her right to live amongst her people, to learn the traditions of Old Valyria.

And at the Red Keep, Arianwyn would not be alone. The Queen had three children, each young enough to be peers to their newest Targaryen cousin, and more were anticipated from both Alicent and the recently wed Princess Rhaenyra.

The King had already given his approval, both to the fostering of his niece at the Red Keep and of Gerold serving as regent of Runestone until the girl had come of age. Indeed, all the arrangements were already made. The Queen had even brought a small contingent of attendants for the child, from nursemaids to Dragonkeepers, who carried a great, steaming urn containing a silver dragon egg – supposedly chosen by the Queen’s infant son – to be placed in Arianwyn’s cradle.

Gerold had only one caveat before he agreed to the King’s plan: that Arianwyn would not venture to the capital alone. A handful of attendants from Runestone delegates would be sent with her to educate her on the history and traditions of House Royce. So that even surrounded by Targaryens, she would not forget why her eyes were grey.

Queen Alicent, herself clothed in Hightower green, happily agreed.

After a long journey from the Vale, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen arrived at Red Keep, cradled in the arms of her aunt, Queen Alicent Hightower. As her attendants, including one of her late mother’s most trusted Lady’s Maids, continued on to prepare her rooms, the newest Targaryen was brought into the Great Hall.

A hush fell over the gathered courtiers when the doors to the throne room opened, and they beheld the silver-haired babe. But the chatter that so often filled the capital quickly resumed when they saw the blanket she was swaddled in. A burnished bronze velvet, carefully embroidered with the same ancient Runes that graced the ancestral armor of House Royce.

It was a slight on the Royal House that, in another court, would have undoubtedly caused a scandal. But in this court, where the Queen herself so brazenly wore the colors of her own house rather than her husband’s, it was immediately relegated to petty gossip. So the Lords and Ladies quickly resumed their conversations as the Queen approached the Iron Throne.

“My King, may I present your niece, Lady Arianwyn Targaryen,” Alicent said as she bowed before her husband as best she could with a squirming infant in her arms.

King Viserys’ eyes brightened, and he dismissed the Hand from his side. The King, having lost so many of his own children by his first wife, was always cheered when he had the chance to meet a healthy babe.

“Hello, my dear niece,” he cooed, reaching out to hold her, “what a delight you are!” His arms strained slightly at the weight of the plump child, so he pulled her into his chest. She relaxed into his against him, fussing softly as she reached for his long white hair.

Viserys laughed, running his fingers through her own hair. The exact shade of silver-white that graced nearly every member of his family. Though hers held significantly more curls than any Targaryen he had ever known.

“She is indeed a beauty, cousin.” A familiar voice drew the King’s attention. His cousin, Rhaenys, approached the throne. “It is a comfort to see our families flourishing.”

The King smiled and nodded, allowing his cousin permission to approach. She ascended the steps to the Iron Throne and ran the back of her fingers along the round cheek of her new baby cousin. “It is a shame her father is not here to meet her.”

Viserys heart sank. In his joy at meeting Arianwyn, he had momentarily forgotten the circumstances under which she arrived – without her father. Once again, his brother had shamed not only himself, but his family and the Crown itself. At least the child’s hair had put to rest any rumors that Rhea had been unfaithful.

Suddenly, the sight of the babe made his heart ache. “Alicent,” he called to his wife, “take Arianwyn to her rooms. I am sure she is tired from the journey.” He handed his wife the child and slumped back into the throne, readjusting himself to try and remain comfortable. Then, when Alicent was out of earshot, he again turned to Rhaenys.

“What has my brother done now?” He said, running his gloved hand over his face.

Rhaenys grimaced. “I am loathe to speak against him now, as he has so recently taken my daughter to wife,” she sighed. “But I feel confident in saying that none of us can ever say exactly what your brother is doing, much less predict what he may yet do in the future.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Viserys said, “I just pray that poor girl won’t suffer any more than she already has.”

When she arrived, the Queen’s three children were waiting inside the solar of their cousin’s new rooms. Aegon, now four years old, ran from his nursemaid, cackling as he swerved precariously between the servants attempting to arrange the room. Helaena, approaching her second nameday, stayed in her nurse’s arms, hands clasped tightly around her ears as she took in the unfamiliar space. And Aemond, only a few months older than his new cousin, lay peacefully in his maid’s arms as he watched servants haul numerous sparkling bronze trappings into the rooms.

“Come and meet your new cousin, darlings,” Alicent called to Aegon and the nursemaids bearing her other children, “She’s come a long way to be with us.” The Queen sat on a plush chair near the west windows of the room, gently lowering the babe into her lap.

Aegon reluctantly approached, sneering slightly at the child in his mother’s lap. “She doesn’t look like Daemon.”

Alicent sighed. “Nor did you look like your father when you were so young. Indeed, even now, I wager you look more like me. You have the Hightower nose.” She tweaked the tip of his soft nose – the same as hers - to drive her point home.

“I am a Targaryen prince!” Aegon insisted.

“Of course, my boy. How could any of us forget it with this on your head,” she said, ruffling his unruly mop of white hair.

Aegon grunted, looking back down at the baby. He gently reached out to touch her silver hair, both neater and curlier than his own. “What is her name?”

“Arianwyn.” The Queen responded.

“Ari…” Helaena started, her hands finally coming down from her ears. Alicent nodded for the maid to set her down, and the young girl approached her mother and the babe.

The Queen spoke slowly and carefully as she repeated, “Arianwyn.”

Helaena listened intently, then repeated the name several times, struggling with the pronunciation. “Ah-ree-an-win.”

“That’s it! Very good, my sweet,” the Queen said, placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, though the young girl winced at the touch.

Aegon continued fiddling with his cousin’s curls, “It’s a weird name.”

“Her cousin Sir Gerold Royce told me it is of the Old Tongue,” the Queen said, motioning for one of the nursemaids to bring her youngest babe closer, “it has some meaning, though I am afraid I forget what it is.”

Releasing Arianwyn’s hair, Aegon made a noise of quickly waning interest and stepped away, eager to resume his perpetual torment of his nurse. Had she not been holding her young niece, Alicent may have chased after him. But for now, she lifted the child babe to face her own.

“Aemond,” she said softly, “meet Arianwyn.”

As he beheld his bronze-wrapped cousin, he smiled, cooing and reaching a squirming fist toward her. A smile appearing across her own face, Arianwyn reached back toward him.

I'll be starting a new taglist for this, so if you'd like to be on it, please reach out to me or comment on this post.

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond x oc #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fic #hotd fanfic #aemond xf!oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #the silver dragon

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c0smiclatt3 · 12 days

Text

DAN HENG: JUST DOING MY JOB!

a university au - oneshot

☾₊ ⊹ TAGS: university au, first kiss, sfw but tension. is uh happening

AN: for context if you've never seen library stacks they look like this and you have to turn the wheel to open up a path between library shelves, so you have to watch out to make sure nobodys in the rows before using them can you tell i am a uni student

It’d been a few weeks into the semester since you first met him at the library, since those steely gray eyes that peered over at you from the front desk seemed to puncture right through your defences. It’s funny how one day of forgetting your laptop charger could turn into a new daily routine of dropping by the library, requesting to rent one just so you could be struck again. Charger rentals quickly turned to him asking you about the books you’re reading to chats about classes. Then one day he started leaving you cups of tea on your desk for your late night sessions - and always when you have your head down for a power nap so you can’t ever thank him. But the teabag in your cups are always the same brand as the ones you see dangling from his thermos, though he will always deny it.

Today you actually did need his help, though. You were looking for a specific book that was not in the regular library shelves, and needed someone to guide you through the labyrinth that was the archives. Luckily for you, Dan Heng seemed to know them like the back of his hand.

“Sorry to take you away from your job like this.”

“I work at the library help desk. You are asking for my help,” he says matter-of-factly, the way he always spoke. “This is quite literally my job.”

The archive stacks lay out before the two of you, with stacks on stacks of shelves stretched out for what must be all the way from East to West campus. With the archives located in the library’s underground level, it was entirely plausible. It was crazy how in a room that loomed this large, they still had to stack the shelves together to accommodate all of them. Each shelf had a great big wheel on its side, which you knew you had to turn to roll the adjacent shelves aside, allowing you passage to the shelf of your choice. With the smell of finely aging books curling yellow with the years wafting through the room and these great big contraptions of shelves, being down here almost felt otherworldly. You looked to Dan Heng, who walked with purpose and direction - how long must someone spend down here to sift through the shelf labels as algorithmically as he did?

“May I?” Snapping out of your awe, you found him holding his hand out to you, expectantly. Wait - what?

“Huh?”

“Your phone. I forgot the call number.”

Oh. You hand your phone over. This deep into the archives, with the fortress of shelf stacks in front and behind you, the ceiling lights could only reach so far. So when he opened your phone, the light of the screen gently illuminated his face.

“Interesting phone background.” Crap. You'd forgotten what you set your lockscreen to and felt blood rush to your cheeks.

You frown through your embarrassment. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Friendly banter is an effective way to make a friendly atmosphere between library staff and visitors." Once again, as matter-of-factly as ever.

“I didn’t take you for the bantering type.”

Just before you swear you could detect an almost imperceptible smile on his lips. But just as quickly as it came, the light of your phone was snuffed out.

“Here it is,” he set both hands firmly on the wheel, turning and rolling what must have been eight stacks of shelves aside. You didn't expect a nerd like him to do so without breaking a sweat. The shelves gave way with a creak and the crackle of plastic-wrapped books. A space opened up between your two target shelves, just wide enough for one of you at a time to pass through.

“Looks cozy,” you remark, taking a step inside. But you knew this was the farthest right he could push the shelves, and you didn’t want to trouble him to push aside any more. “Let’s go find that book.”

You two work silently, scanning the bookshelves row by row: you on one side and him on the other, meeting in the middle. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little flustered when you two bumped shoulders as you finished the first row, him just silently turning to you, shaking his head. The words registered with just the look on his face. It’s not on this one. And then you two proceeded to the next row.

You went on like this for a little bit, occasionally accidentally brushing hands as you two closely watched the book spines, only for you to hurriedly draw your hand away. But row by row, shelf by shelf, he started to move his hand to yours first, your hands lingering, skin to skin, for just a moment as you both pretended to be carefully observing the last book. Never daring to look the other in the eye lest either one betrays the look on their face. First a brush of the knuckles, them the backs of your fingers, then his hand moves over to just gently slot his fingers over-

The shelves began to close together with a heavy groan. You two must have been so quiet, someone else must not have realized you two were there, and began to close up the stacks, and they were closing in quickly.

Dan Heng's head whipped around, immediately putting himself between you and the incoming shelf, bracing on the shelf behind you. “Excuse me!” He shouts to the stranger, and the shelves ceased.

The stranger called back. “Sorry! I’ll be done in a sec!”

The momentary shock settling down, you realized the position you were in: the two of you, pressed dangerously close together, Dan Heng with one arm above you to steady himself, looking down at you. Your faces were so close as you turned your head up to look at him, you felt a lock of his hair brush your forehead.

“Are you alright?”

You open your mouth to say something, when you realize that with his body pressed to yours he could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest - and was that his thrumming in response? Must the adrenaline from saving you from the shelves be getting him this worked up? Why was your own heart still fluttering if the threat is over? And… Why did your face feel so warm?

“I’m…” You look into his eyes for the first time since you two entered the shelves - he’s handsome. Devastatingly handsome. The faint ceiling lights cut through the shelves, offering a window of light for you to look at him, him to look at you.

You feel his breath on your ear as he speaks in a low whisper. “Sorry… Is this too close?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s… It’s fine…”

Your eyes wandered - could he see where they were looking? Down his face to his lips, and you tried to focus on something - anything - to distract you but all that was before you was him, his eyes gray like winter above you, his heart thumping through his jacket and against your chest, and his lips, god, his lips.

You two stand in silence as you try to peel your eyes away from him. But then he gently puts his free hand under your chin, tipping it back up to look at him. You can’t hide it now - you cheeks flushed pink, the way you’re looking at him. Your foreheads are touching now, his eyes searching yours as his gentle breath fans across your face, a few locks of hair on your cheek stirring. You quietly whisper.

“Is this also part of your job description?”

There's an amused hmph from his lips. A flutter of his eyelashes. Yours closing in response. Your hearts, drumming up courage in you both as he lowers his face and you bring yours up to meet his.

And then the gentlest, gentlest of kisses. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, and his hand under your chin drops to your waist in response, drawing you near. His kisses are long and drawn out, then punctuated: short, sweet like haiku syllables, playing out on your lips, writing you to life.

writing masterlist | bots masterlist

☾₊ ⊹ AN: and that's the last of my works from my sideblog migrated here wooo

#dan heng #danheng #honkai star rail #hsr #hoyoverse #danheng x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #writing by junie

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kindestegg · 1 year

Text

Putting together a timeline for the Collector's backstory

Hi!! For the Future just happened!! It was insane!! Anyway as a Collector superfan, fantasy worldbuilding fanatic, and also Collector's actual chosen dad (real, not fake, he revealed this to me in a dream /j), I decided to try and interpret the crumbs we got both from direct and indirect clues in the new episode, as well as tying back to earlier episodes.

I want to start first with the paintings on the Archive halls, which seem to tell a story. I chose to interpret them, from the first shot we see them in, as chronological from left to right, as that usually tends to be how one would read things (at least in the west, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about manga and all that, but I don't think the crew was following manga rules).

Here is a picture of the hallway I am using for reference. This specific shot seems to only have unique paintings aligning (there is an animation quirk that happens later on that makes it not so but I will get to this later), which is why I have elected to extract the timeline from this. Another reason is that, as we will see, the first three pictures definitely seem to fit in a neat chronological order, which would make it hard to doubt the placement of these paintings as being chronological here.

The first seems to depict our Collector, as the smaller one of his species, and three, bigger collectors. For convenience's sake I am in fact choosing to interpret these paintings as being things that happened to him and part of his memories. It makes sense: there is an emphasis on this smaller figure several times throughout the paintings and I cannot think why Collector would put random pictures of some other child collector's life, as well as we have to imagine the crew wanted to tell a story with these, otherwise they would be as random as the sun and moon paintings on the other side of the hall.

So it seems in this first picture, the bigger collectors, perhaps his family, are observing a planet, maybe even the planet the world of the Demon Realm is on.

Here is where I take a detour to add excerpts from the book Collector had King read to him (I should eventually make an analysis post on why Collector wanted this read to him, but all in its due time):

As the book states, collectors, by nature, observe things and then collect them by keeping them in stasis.

Going back to the painting, all indicates that this would show these particular collectors, likely the family of our younger Collector, were interested in the planet the Boiling Isles is on, and this painting depicts the first stage of their plan, observing this planet.

As a quick aside, I would like to say it is likely collectors do know what families are, and they may even form familial bonds and hierarchies. One such nod to this is of course Collector calling Odalia "Mamadalia", but also, this:

It is barely visible, but in a few quick shots you can see the next page of the book. Not only does it seem to use the words "interdimensional" and "dimension(s)", likely referring to the nature of collectors themselves or their residence, but it also uses the word "Family".

So, to recap, three adult collectors, likely our Collector's family, had their sights set on the planet the Boiling Isles is on.

And one of their first contacts was the Titan Trappers.

We now know that despite the resemblance to titans at first glance, titan trappers only wear their skulls and pelts to look like them, making the hunt easier, as well as to, I imagine, indicate pride in their spoils. The indication we have this is not a titan is primarily the spear utilized here, the fact the fur does not match the rest of the body, and the yellow glowing eyes.

I will discuss this further down through showing evidence with the other paintings, but there seems to be a recurring theme in the paintings that depicts the trappers and collectors as always having yellow eyes, whereas the titans are depicted with red eyes.

As Lilith explains further on, books found in the archive detail that a titan's power can actually cancel out the collectors' powers.

She also goes on to say that this why Collector's predecessors (her words not mine) wiped out all the titans.

If such is the case, then that explains why they chose to ally themselves with the trappers. It's likely they needed an intermediator, otherwise they would have not been able to fight the titans full on. In exchange, they likely shared whatever arcane knowledge they could to help in the fights, powering up the trappers.

This would line up perfectly with the trappers' worship of their Grand Huntsman, who as we all know, derives from the Collector and his entire species in aesthetic and looks.

As for why they did not want to risk peaceful contact with the titans besides the reason of their powers being able to be canceled out by titans, there is also the crossed out passage in the book:

Though our Collector declares he tried to "fix" it, we can still clearly see what was originally written, implying that any creature who attempts to stop their work shall meet a deadly end, and maybe even the entire planet will have all of its life wiped out.

So it is likely the titans were not fond of the collectors attempting to collect things in their planet, and fought back, causing the collectors to learn firsthand of their weakness to a titan's power, and to then ally themselves with the trappers.

Which, leads again, to the second painting, depicting two collectors in front of a trapper. The taller one, which I assume is part of our Collector's family, is trying on a skull.

By their side, I will assume is our Collector, due to the smaller stature, and something curious about the body language placed here for him seems to indicate he is examining the skull before putting it on. This could indicate he had an interest on the titans from early on. This will be important later.

As a quick addendum before we move on, I have come to conclude it's highly likely collectors have the ability to change size. In the first painting, the three adults are larger than the entire planet, with our Collector being only a bit smaller than the planet itself. However, in this second painting, the adult is not even as tall as the trapper depicted here, which, if we assume trappers are common witches and demons simply adorned with pelts and skulls just like the modern ones, were not as giant. Similarly, Collector is also way smaller, hence the theory that they change size.

We have seen our Collector possibly changing sizes in canon as well, both in the Owl Beast dream as their hooded figure form seemed massive, and then when they have just broken out of their prison. It's possible collectors scale down their massive size to fit whatever planet they are on.

Next is the third painting, which depicts a familiar scene...

Indeed, this seems to be an almost one to one recreation of the mural we see in Echoes of the Past inside King's castle. We even receive some extra content to it: We now know the titan depicted here had wing like structures on their arms, as well as was protecting an egg, and was accompanied by a smaller, likely juvenile titan.

Notice also how they both have red eyes, but the trapper has yellow eyes.

This all but confirms that the mural is depicting a trapper smithing a titan (whether it is our Titan we do not know for sure), and that the collectors had a hand in this.

Moving on, we have this painting:

Again, going out of the assumption the smaller figure is our Collector, he seems to be approached by four other adult collectors. These collectors however, are slightly different than three he was earlier with: first of all there are four of them, they have no split faces, and their hats are adorned with celestial bodies on their tips. For the sake of convenience I will refer to these as "The Elders", as their difference from our Collector's supposed family, as well as possible authority denoted by their hats, makes me think they are older and more powerful than our Collector's family.

Anyway, The Elders appear to be satisfied with our Collector, one even extending an open palm to them in a friendly gesture. I confess my interpretation of this is more speculative than the other paintings, simply because of the vagueness of it and how it does not seem to tie well into any other pictures or current lore we have.

But my current understanding is that, since one of The Elders is making such a gesture at Collector, they are maybe giving something to them, offering an opportunity. Their authority would certainly denote power above even Collector and his family, so they would likely be able to call the shots in their hierarchy.

Due to this, and considering the next paintings, I have elected to interpret this as The Elders entrusting Collector full control of watching over and collecting things from the planet he and his family had their eyes on. If this happens chronologically after the deal with the trappers as well, this could indicate the Elders have deemed it safe for our Collector to take over.

It also would explain why he calls himself The Collector, he's the designated collector for that planet, the caretaker of this planet and the one meant to observe and collect from it.

Which makes this next painting all the more interesting.

Collector, is surrounded by what seems to be four baby titans. They have their arms up, reaching for him, running to him. Playing. His expression also indicates happiness, eyes wide, hands on his chin, a little smile.

Recall for a moment that in the painting depicting the first contact with the trappers, our Collector had stopped to examine the titan skull. He was interested in them, he wanted to play.

This would align with Collector's "fixing" of the book, going to the lengths of desecrating what is likely an ancient book that dictates/documents the entire culture of his species to ensure his message of playing and friendship is more important.

If we take this painting and the book addition in conjunction, we can come to the conclusion Collector, once left alone, went out of his way to befriend and play with whatever titan babies were left out there. He was likely happy with this, as nothing about this picture indicates a struggle. And once again, these are definitely titan babies due to their eyes being red.

One may be concerned considering the fact the stars here could indicate they are in space, but there are a few counter arguments to this: Collector does not seem to imagine someone could suffocate in space as he suggests people on the moon could just hold their breaths, so this contradicts the idea he would have had experience with this.

The baby titans also seem to have playful body language rather than showing any anguish. And furthermore, when discussing the painting with my boyfriend he pointed out the blue waves could be an abstraction of the shoreline, indicating they were playing on the beach. In short, it is just the simplest explanation this depicts a peaceful scene rather than one with the babies suffocating, as it would not align with the rest of the story here.

There is also the matter of Collector straight up denouncing "the others", which we can only assume refers to the other collectors. It's no wonder he would feel that way, since they were the reason for his new friends' families being all but wiped out, and were less interested in playing with the creatures they observed and rather only preserving them.

Which only makes the present of the Isles and the state of titans and collectors all the more worrying, as well as concerns us with a last, pretty elusive painting...

This is what I meant by animation quirk: Getting a picture of this painting was so hard because it's the very last one in the timeline line up I showed you in that first screenshot, but when the camera zooms in on King and he runs up to get Hooty and we SHOULD get a proper look at it...

... It's pushed back again and the last two paintings get repeated. Which makes me think this is either an animation error, or they REALLY want to make it hard for us to get it.

BUT! After a bunch of rewatches and looking at some slowed down clips again, I was finally able to find the ONE place it repeated, on the scene where Belos!Raine is walking down the halls ominously.

And it is quite the revelation.

This depicts three adult collectors, likely our Collector's parents, staring down menacingly at a titan... perhaps THE Titan this time? It's worth noting this is not the same titan depicted in the painting with the trapper hunting down one that was protecting their egg, as that one had smaller wings and a skull that covered their entire jaw, whereas this one's skull only goes to the muzzle, just like King's does.

Something interesting is that this titan is accompanied either by other very weird looking titans, or these are other creatures that inhabited the Boiling Isles at the time and were also casualties in the collectors' path.

There is also fire surrounding this picture, which makes me think again of the "clear the earth, scorch the air" verse. It's also odd these collectors are approaching the titan(s) despite the fact titan magic could easily push them back, so it could be that they are betting it all on this and going on to cause massive destruction. But the titan seems to be holding up a hand as if gesturing for them to stop, or wait... they're not fighting back like with the trappers. Why?

Well, if this takes place after the painting with Collector playing the baby titans, it's possible these titans had become accustomed to our Collector and did not expect such an attack. It's likely they may have at first understood that this Collector was a child, one that was more interested in playing and befriending them rather than hurting anyone, and cautiously took them in.

Now, whether it was a misunderstanding with Collector's family thinking they were in danger or they were angered by their refusal to hurt titans... we know how the story ends. The titans were all wiped out, safe for King's egg, and Collector was sealed away by King's dad, likely one of the last things he'd ever do.

Overall I think our Collector's backstory is both horrifying and sad. Horrifying because of what his species is capable of, but also sad because despite his efforts to make peace with the titans, it couldn't save them and cost him his freedom. It's no wonder he was so happy to see a titan again, and latched onto King: this is like his second chance.

#the owl house #toh spoilers #toh analysis #toh theory #toh collector #the collector #toh titan #Commander's orders

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keyotos · 1 year

Text

i'm yours tonight

summary ⎯ late nights w/ dan heng. inspired by my sleepover hcs.

tana's words ⎯ having HELLA dan heng brainrot rn. also i'm getting through everyone's requests ASAP!! i just wrote this bc im having major writers block rn.

tags ⎯ fluff. unestablished relationship but the feels are there. oblivious idiot (you). reading together (real).

"psst. dan heng, are you awake?" you whispered. you were crouching down next to him on the floor, head circling his figure as you tried to find out if he was awake or not. it was the early hours of the morning and you felt slightly guilty for waking him up.

"now i am," dan heng shuffled around until he faced you. "what is it?"

"i can't sleep," you laughed dryly, "again. do you have a book i could borrow?" you stood up. dan heng wanted to pull you down by your hand so you could be back on his level. he reached out slightly and then shot his hand down.

dan heng stumbled out of his floor mattress. charming, he thought to himself. he moved towards his bookshelf as you followed him. you stood so close to dan heng that he started feeling goosebumps on his neck; the warmth of your breath making him shiver.

"what are you in the mood for today?" dan heng asked as he started browsing his shelf.

"anything, really," you sighed. "something boring? i've been having trouble sleeping for the past few days," you rubbed a hand over your temples.

"have you been alright?" dan heng swiftly turned to face you, all thoughts about the book forgotten.

"yeah," you rubbed your eyes, "i've been fine. you don't have to worry about me," you beamed through your drowsiness.

i always worry about you, he wanted to say.

"dictionary?" dan heng pulled out the book, emphasizing its thickness.

"words. perfect," you wiggled your eyebrows. you grabbed the book and flipped through a few pages. it's condition was pristine, as always.

"thanks, dan heng," you looked at the book and then looked back up to him, "hopefully i'll be able to sleep soon," you held onto the book tighter. for some reason, you wanted to stay in this room; stay with dan heng.

dan heng parted his lips, in awe of how you still look gorgeous even when you're exhausted, "no problem," he gulped, "if you need another way to sleep faster, i know a good herbal tea recipe."

"i might have to take you up on that offer one time," you smirked, "if you hear three knocks on your door, just know it's me."

dan heng laughed, "noted."

you waved goodbye and started walking out the door. you intentionally started walking slower than usual, in hopes dan heng would offer you tea right now. you didn't feel like going back to sleep, especially going back to sleep alone.

you stopped in your tracks. dan heng didn't move; he examined you, wondering if you forgot something or not.

"is it okay if i stay in here?" you turn back around, walking slightly closer to him, "i don't feel like falling asleep alone tonight."

dan heng raised his eyebrows in shock, facial expression slightly contorted, "i⎯uh. are you sure?"

hearing his reaction made you want to shrivel into your body. his confused tone made you worry, "um. yeah," you looked down at the floor, "unless you don't want me here. that's fine!" you looked back up at dan heng.

dan heng blushed at your disconcerted state, "no. you're welcome to stay if you'd like," you're welcome to stay all the time, "but my bed is uncomfortable. do you really want to stay in the archives?" he raised his eyebrows as a way to affirm your answer.

"oh!" your entire figure stood up, "i'll stay wherever you are, to be honest," you had no idea of the affect one sentence had on dan heng. while he was trying to hide his blush, you continued, "but if your bed is a problem, we'll just stay in my room."

"are you sure⎯" dan heng was cut off.

"yes," you vigorously nodded your head. "why else would i offer?" you wrapped your arm around his neck, "okay! let's move!"

dan heng keep rubbing his neck on the way to your room. when did it get so hot? luckily for him, he felt his warmth drain when he reached your room. it was freezing: definitely below (at least) 67 degrees. and then he noticed the heap of blankets lying on your bed, which explained so much.

"make yourself at home!" you waved your arms around, as if you were showing a grand prize. you flopped onto the bed and proceeded to wrap yourself in the blankets.

dan heng, on the other hand, chose to lay on top of the covers for two reasons. the first reason being, if he had gotten under the covers with you, he feared that he'd be too flustered to even face you. the second reason was he may burn up.

"are you gonna get under here?" you asked, shuffling around your mountain of blankets, "it gets really cold at night."

"i'll be fine. don't worry about me," he shrugged. as he tried to light the lamp on your nightstand, you grabbed his hand before he could turn it on.

"quoting me now?" you teased.

"i⎯" he paused. "i assure you, yn. i'll be fine," trying to hide his gaze from your eyes. your hand on his feels so blissful. your grip, so light and calming.

"and i assure you," you hold on tighter, "you're gonna be cold tonight. like, freezing. i saw your body react to when we came in here. you were about to shiver," you recognized his body language? "don't be stubborn. c'mon."

hesitantly, dan heng made his way under the covers. he could feel you next to him, your body radiating heat the blankets could not. unknowingly, he gravitated towards you, so much so that the two of you were touching knees.

"feel better now?"

"slightly, yes."

"you do," you dragged on the syllables in a sing-song way. you opened up the dictionary and began to read inside your head. well, struggling to read. it was dark and you insisted to not turn on the lights (it disrupts REM sleep, you said).

"give me that," dan heng grabbed the book out of your hands. though you try to protest, he holds the book out of your grasp.

while you try to reach for it, you end up sprawling yourself all over dan heng's body. at some point, you went from simply pressing your chest up against his to practically straddling him.

dan heng tried to take his mind off of your position; he focused on keeping the dictionary out of your hands. it was fun, teasing you. if his arm was standing in one place it would've been easier to reach, however, dan heng possessed a sense of agility you knew nothing of until tonight.

when you exhausted yourself in your efforts, you crashed down on top of dan heng. for someone who was (apparently) adept on dan heng's body language, you didn't notice how his chest was rising unevenly, how is breaths were more shallow and hitched. you concluded that his warmth occured from how many blankets were on top of him, and not the fact that you were practically centimeters away from his lips.

"how else am i supposed to sleep if i can't read," you mumbled in his ear, too worn out to talk at a normal volume.

dan heng tilted his face away from yours, scared that something would happen if he had gotten too close, "i'll read for you."

this time, you hauled yourself off of dan heng's body, now opting for leaning into his side, "how? you can't read in the dark either?" you leaned your head on your hand so you could look at dan heng. dan heng was grateful for the dark, otherwise, if not for the dark, you'd be able to see how red he was in the moment.

"i actually can," he opened the book, flipping through the pages to find the most boring words. you shook your head in disbelief; there was no way he could actually read in the dark (he could).

you shuffled through the blankets once more, trying to find the cold spot on the bed. the cold spot was nice, but it wasn't satisfactory, for you could not hear the sounds of dan heng's voice. so you leaned closer, resting your head on his shoulder yet again.

"quintessence: the most perfect or typical example of a quality or class," dan heng read out. you found that his voice started lulling you to sleep already.

"do you think people just make these words up and they just appear in the dictionary?" you slur out, consciousness slowly fading away.

dan heng softly chuckled, "maybe," he flipped through more pages, "tintinnabulation: a ringing or tinkling sound."

you laughed into his bicep, "are you sure you're not the person making these words up?"

dan heng wanted to sear your laughter into his skin, "i'm not. are you about to sleep yet?"

"i'm sleeping now," you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, "mimimimi⎯"

dan heng delicately smacked the dictionary on your face, "sleep," he stressed. when you moved yourself closer to dan heng, he couldn't help but pull you slightly closer. maybe it was the facade of exhaustion donning on him, or maybe it was because he wanted you closer.

as he felt your breathing slow and listened to you get less chatty, he knew you fell asleep. he set the dictionary aside and tilted his head down to look at you. how could one look so enchanting while sleeping? he carefully stroked your eyebrow, an endearment he used only for you, and pulled you closer into him.

when you two woke up in the morning, none of you dared to discuss how you were practically entangled and intertwined together.

bonus:

"i think that was the best sleep i've ever gotten," you laid on dan heng's shoulder. "your voice put me to sleep."

dan heng, trying to avoid even closer contact, "so are you saying my voice bores you?" he teases.

"what!?" you take your head off of his shoulder. though dan heng avoided the encounter, he wished for your head to come back down; he missed how his heart began to race with you near.

"no! your voice is just⎯ really peaceful. and calming. and nice," you try to explain yourself. when you see a slight smirk threatening to show on his face, you scowled. "it's too early for this," you playfully shoved him away from you, missing his smile on the way.

#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#idk something about this man gets me out of writers block for some reason. hes so easy to write for.#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #dan heng hsr #dan heng #dan heng imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #dan heng x y/n #i've written so much for him lately. idk man he's just so easy to write for.#dan heng reading in the dark is just a hc

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chickenparm · 1 year

Text

Bad Decision (Dan Heng/gn!Reader)

how we feelin about honkai star rail, gals and pals? i'm feeling pretty damn good.

anyway dan heng has me by the coochie. this MIGHT get a part 2, and if it does it will involve a reader with female anatomy so just keep that in mind so it isn't a jumpscare.

---

AO3 LINK NEXT PART

Dan Heng/gn!Reader 2,415 Words - NSFW (Accidental phone calls, listening in when you shouldn't, m!masturbation, mild phone sex, awkwardness all around)

Dan Heng never calls.

It’s not that he’s a complete recluse - he’ll message of his own volition, and answer your messages within an instant, so long as he isn’t busy. But unless it’s an emergency, he never, ever calls.

It takes my attention away from other tasks. He explained once, when March brought it up. His habit of delivering his sentences lends itself more to if someone were reading from a dictionary, rather than explaining interesting facts about themselves. Facts that you squirrel away and covet, because you have a bad habit of making bad decisions, and Dan Heng is a very bad decision waiting to be made.

Because there’s no universe where it would be a good idea to have the sort of feelings for him that you do. Sickening, clawing, creeping up your back and behind your rib cage every time he glances at you from the corner of his eye to share a look with you for any number of reasons. March’s antics, a frustrating informant, a quiet second after a quick brawl where he makes sure you’re unharmed.

Maybe it’s for the best that it’s just you and March on this scouting mission this time. It’s been wrapped up nicely, nothing too out of the ordinary, leaving the two of you to stay in your lodgings for the night before returning to the Astral Express that lingers far above the atmosphere. At least, you tell yourself it’s for the best.

March is a good friend, and will be dear to you always, but there’s a distinctly Dan-Heng-Shaped space next to you that’s been drawing far too much of your attention during your stay on this planet.

It’s with the knowledge in mind that Dan Heng only calls when it’s something important or an emergency, that you sit up in bed when your phone chimes with the ringtone you’d set for him during a bored moment in the parlor car. When he’d humored you for a moment and sat right next to you on those long sofas while you scrolled through each sound you downloaded that reminded you of him.

So, as you scramble for your phone and bring it to your ear, your breath hitches for a moment in panic. Because if Dan Heng thinks something is an emergency, then it’s an Emergency. No sound leaves you at first as you expect him to start speaking immediately, to not mince words, but nothing greets you beyond a quiet, steady rustling sound.

It’s not fabric. Maybe a little wet, like the sound of skin against skin, and something suspicious brews in you as you hold your breath and just listen.

The first real sound you hear is a quiet exhale. At the very end it shakes, as if the owner of such a sound shivers a little. Then, the sound of more rustling, before the sound of Dan Heng spitting. The sound from before returns, and what once was vaguely identifiable is now unmistakable.

Silently, you press your back against the wall the bed is pushed against, your hand over your mouth as you try not to make a single sound. You’re well aware that this is disgusting behavior; Dan Heng is having a private moment. Intruding on him in this way would cause irreparable damage to any sort of relationship you’d been trying to build with him.

But how can you stop? The monarch of bad decisions, making the worst one of all without a second thought. Your eyes stare off, unseeing as you try to imagine what the other end of the line might look like.

Dan Heng is on the Astral Express, there’s no doubt about that. The archives filled with cerulean light from the twisting blue pattern of its flooring, only blocked by the thin mattress of his bed and the books that are scattered around it. Would he be sitting up, curled in on himself while he seeks his pleasure? Or perhaps he would be sprawled across his bedding with his cock in hand and unashamed of what he’s doing.

Dan Heng doesn’t seem the type to be embarrassed by it. Sure, everyone’s done it at some point, but you desperately want to know what he’s thinking as he treats you with another sound. A quiet grunt, his pace pausing for a moment and leaving the line silent before it picks up again and goes even faster. It seems he’s found something he likes.

Another breath, a sharp inhale, then a quiet moan that makes your toes curl and your teeth grit. And you’re not even there. What would he look like if that were your hand stroking his cock, memorizing exactly what he likes so you can drive him to the edge and pull him back from it. Over and over again, teasing him with a release you won’t provide until he’s shaking and flushed and begging for it.

What a pretty sight it would be to have Dan Heng beneath you, looking at you through half-lidded eyes as you lean down and drag your tongue along him. Everything about him is pretty; surely his cock would be as well. Closing your eyes to the darkness of your temporary room, you imagine the arch of his back as he nudges the back of your throat. And through it all he would murmur your name pleadingly, just like he’s doing right now-

You gasp, eyes snapping open. All sound on the other end cuts out, and then a quiet swear before frantic rustling. Then, your name again, this time spoken imploringly and terrified. A question you can’t bring yourself to answer as you press your palm so hard over your mouth that your teeth dig into the soft flesh inside your lips.

No one breathes, no one hangs up. Just a drawn out silence before he says your name again, so much quieter. Almost defeated, just before he nearly whispers, “Why didn’t you hang up?”

Whisper or not, hearing his voice is too much for your suddenly-overworked brain to handle. The phone beeps cheerfully as you hit the end call button and press your palms to your eyes.

Dan Heng’s ringtone sings for you only once more, before the simple ping of a message arriving fills the room. It’s an admonishment, a suggestion for you to not return with March back to the Astral Express. Himeko and Mr. Yang have already been told that you’re a pervert for listening in on Dan Heng’s private moment. Pom-pom is already throwing your luggage into the incinerator as you lay in your bed and wallow.

At least, that’s what you assume, because so far you’re only staring at the blinking yellow light on your phone that indicates you have notifications built up.

For better or worse, Dan Heng is waiting.

With shaking fingers, you lift the device. The facial recognition kicks in immediately, even in the dark, and you’re left staring at the home screen with a few icons, two of which have notifications. One for a missed call, one for a direct message. Foregoing the call, you open whatever it is that he has to spit at you.

Please call me back.

Perfect. He wants to tell you in person what a freak you are. What a degenerate you must be to so crudely sit by and listen to something so personal. Clutching your phone until your fingers hurt from its edges, you try to push the memory of his quiet sounds from your head before calling him. The little grunt, the sigh, the moan, your name-

Your name. When he didn’t realize you were listening. In a moment of what should’ve been complete privacy, without knowledge of you listening yet, Dan Heng had said your name and your thumb sweats as you hit the call button.

“Having second thoughts?” Is his immediate accusation, and you stammer for a moment because what do you even say to that? A questioning sound leaves your throat, and a huff of air breezes past the receiver on his end. “You didn’t hang up immediately. You must have liked what you were hearing, or you wouldn’t have continued listening to what I was doing.”

“I thought it was an emergency-”

“A likely excuse, except I can see the call’s duration. Eight minutes to wait for an emergency?” Dan Heng sounds uncharacteristically amused - which is to say not very much at all. But you’ve spent enough time in his presence to pick up on the little nuances, even if you can’t see the micro expressions he favors.

Dan Heng has you pinned with so little effort. And he’s not even trying. You give in immediately, phone shaking next to your ear as you quietly affirm, “Yes, I did. Like it, I mean. I’m sorry, Dan Heng-”

“I’m not asking for an apology. It’s obvious we both have things to apologize for, so it equals out. You for listening in when you weren’t meant to, and me for shamelessly using thoughts of you to relieve myself. I think that sounds fair.”

Not when he says it like that. How does something so blunt still somehow get your blood rushing through your ears, warming your cheeks, and cause an ache to form in the bottom of your gut? Loudly, you swallow around your nerves and choke out a response. “That’s fair.”

“Then that’s settled.” Rustling again; is he laying down now? Has he redressed, or is he nude? Or perhaps he still has himself in hand, moving so slowly you can’t hear it. Dan Heng cuts your thoughts off precisely where he wants them - in the gutter. “Should I keep going? Would you like that?”

“...What?”

It’s such a rare sound for Dan Heng to laugh in any capacity. Even this is little more than a sound of amusement from under his breath, but you latch onto it anyway. It keeps you grounded to the moment as he asks again, “Do you want to keep listening? It’s a simple yes or no answer. If you say no, we won’t speak of this again.”

“And if I say yes?” You hate how breathless you sound, how excited. Because it’s a dead giveaway on how you’ve been feeling up to this point - no one gets this excited just to hear some guy touch himself over the phone, right? No one normal, at least.

A moment of silence, stretching on for a little too long before that entrancing sound of skin-on-skin again, nearly agonizing in its slowness. Shakily, a breath rings out over the line, this time unmuffled and crystal clear. Something in you throbs at the prospect of it all.

Dan Heng’s voice loses its evenness as he clarifies things for your addled brain. “Then you sit there and listen, and you do nothing else. Not until you’re back on the Astral Express.”

“And… When I’m back?”

The earpiece sounds heavenly as his hum rolls through it, like he appreciates your questioning. It takes a beat for him to say anything, and in that span you get to appreciate the hiss he makes between his teeth as he goes a little faster. The side of your face is burning hot under the phone’s dormant screen; you’re nearly pushing it into your skull from your own excitement.

“Then you’ll get to watch. And compare the real thing to what you’re thinking of right now.”

All you want is for him to keep going, to keep talking about the things he’s planning to do with you when you return. Would he be so welcoming to your own machinations? Dan Heng is no mind reader, but he’s not stupid. Surely he knows what’s going through your mind now, though maybe not the exact depths of the depravity.

But you’re not about to enlighten him. Instead, you do what he expects, quietly listening and keeping your breathing measured as his groan rolls through the phone. Every urge demands that you reach down and take care of yourself too, but there was an implication to his words. Nothing else, he said. Only sit and listen, like you wanted to do in the first place.

Dan Heng is surprisingly cruel, you think.

Seemingly exhausted of his willingness to keep speaking to you, he simply… lets go. Dan Heng is quiet, though you can tell by the pitch of his sounds and the sudden urgency he takes while murmuring your name again that he must be close. The way he calls for you is like a taunt, and for a man so pacifistic, he sure is getting a kick out of causing you untold grief.

“Dan Heng, please, can I-”

“No.” It’s grit through his teeth, like his whole body has tensed. Impending orgasm has a way of making even the more passive person into someone needy and demanding, and he exercises that right by urging you, “Say something. Anything. Tell me what you would do if you were here.”

“I’d watch, just like you want me to.” Bravado is easy to fake, and you’ve had more than enough practice over the months as a Trailblazer. Your voice is surprisingly even, “I’d kneel at the end of your bed and watch you touch yourself for me.”

A swear leaves him in a language you’re not familiar with. Only his tone suggests it’s something more than some plain declaration. Then, “When you get back, come straight here. Don’t talk to Himeko, don’t get caught up by Pom-Pom.”

“That eager for me?” You have no grounds to be teasing anyone, but he gives you this one chance to have a small victory. Only to bring it crashing down with his words forced through his tense jaw.

“You have no clue. You’ll see.”

No response comes from you as your mind tries to smooth those words down into something a little more easily digestible, despite their deceptive shortness. There’s a lot to unpack there, and it’s impossible to do so when his breath is coming quicker and he’s moving faster. Your name leaves him one last time, just loud enough for goosebumps to raise across your skin at the knowledge of what he’s done.

Of what you’d listened to, of what you just participated in. In the span of an hour, everything is different. This time tomorrow, you’ll be back on the Astral Express, and you’re not sure if that terrifies you or excites you.

You’re not quite convinced anymore that Dan Heng is still a bad decision.

#dan heng #honkai star rail #hsr #danheng #dan heng/reader #danheng/reader #dan heng x reader #danheng x reader #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #gender neutral reader #mind the a/n cause if this gets a part 2 MAYBE #yanno #just maybe #nsft

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viktorxsheep · 1 year

Note

HI! i apologize for any mistakes, i dont send requests to often :,)

I was wondering if you could do the Star Rail boys and Fem! Reader with a pucca dynamic? Like she's over here tracking them down just to give them kisses and stuff, and gets jealous pretty easily. If all of them are too much just Blade and/dan heng! :))

hi!! thanks for the request! i loved this show so much when i was younger haha. thankyou for allowing me to indulge in my dan heng and welt yang love teehee. (no mistakes by the way!! :>>)

dan heng, welt yang, blade, jing yuan, gepard x fem! reader

___

dan heng

Dan Heng liked his peace. He liked his days in his room, looking through the archives as he sorted through every single data that he had jotted down in his notebook.

Ofcourse, he also knew to always expect you. Disrupting the perfect peace that he made for himself. He always acted annoyed and a little bit grumpy whenever you bursted through his doors, but he genuinely did like it. He loved your kisses, he could drown in them and he would reincarnate just so he could open his arms and allow you to ram into them.

As your relationship grew, he started getting a bit more flustered at your strong declarations of love. Your jealousy, your passion- he’s never experienced a love this strong and this good. All he wants to do now is to return it tenfold…r he’s still a little bit shy.

So when he can finally rest beside you, you sleeping in his arms, he can kiss your forehead as he hums a soft tune from his past. He didn’t expect that he’d love you this much, but now he even gets a little grumpy if you don’t kiss him all over the face in the morning, or go and tightly hug him. He still has nightmares..but now, he can atleast envision your body dashing to his to kiss him when he wakes up instead of the fear and the hurt.

blade

Blade was a little different from Dan Heng. Where Dan Heng was shy and a little bit unsure on how to repay your affections, Blade embraced this wholeheartedly. He relished in the affection, it made him happy.

But a small pet of him wondered if this was alright, if he even deserved this. From all of his past actions, the mistakes he would most definitely make in the future- did he deserve you running to him and toppling him over for kisses? He doesn’t want to dwell, instead, he hopes you let him love you the same way.

If ever you are jealous, he will sit you on his lap (albeit a little awkwardly at first) and he will comfort your insecurities. Are his comforting words not exactly very comforting? sure, but he tries. “You must be sick if you believe I do not love you, don’t be silly.”

Although he really hopes you would stop trying to chase after him during missions for affection, you could get hurt and it’s a bit annoying being teased by Kafka (well, he’d go through it if it’s you at the very least).

welt yang

He is such an old man. Stop giving him heart attacks as you go and kiss him every morning! atleast let him brush his teeth, but he has a feeling you don’t really mind that much. Welt always wakes up earlier than you do, smiling as he watches you excitedly open your eyes to meet his loving embrace.

You may be overexcited and very in love, but Welt can almost beat you in one thing…being the greatest male wife house husband figure you could think of. For every gift, kiss you shower him with, hugs- he surprises you with homemade cooking, clothes that he patched up, flowers and chocolates (that he made himself).

Whenever you get jealous, he can’t help but stifle a small laugh. You were so cute- though he really does not want you to feel insecure. When he knows you’re getting jealous (because he can read you like an open book) he calmly sets you aside and kisses your forehead, assuring you that his love and his heart lies only with you. He couldn’t imagine his life without you in it, so tell him if ever you feel insecure or jealous, he will always listen.

jing yuan

The fearsome leader of the cloud knights believed he was prepared for any sort of challenge. Some fearsome and formidable foes? no matter, stellaron hunters? he will ensure the safety of everyone he can. But who knew he would be so soft and fall victim to-

you. Wonderful, amazing, beautiful you. You in all of your glory, your soft kisses and excited smiles. He could sleep all day just to see you in his dreams, but he loves you even better in real life. He will get flustered (and never show it), and he will always feel bad when he’s forced to ask you to wait outside a meeting room due to the confidential information being shared.

He will ease your worries, he will hold your hand. He wants you to be as safe and as happy as possible, so how could he not indulge you? whatever kisses you’d like the give him, you may. While he can’t always let you bulldoze over to him just to kiss, he will always make it up to you after the moment you two get home.

gepard

You wanted to kill him.

He was sure.

Fearsome, strong, loyal knight captain. That was who he was and how his reputation was…atleast until his underlings saw the red hot blush on his face as you somehow got through the silver mane guards just to kiss and hug him. While he always scolds you (always with a small stutter due to the shock and flusteredness) to not follow him while he went away, he always held you in his arms and let you do as you pleased.

He would walk you back to the safer areas in the administrative district of Belobog, letting you get your fill in of as much hugs and kisses you want before he’s forced to rip himself and his tomato red face away from you.

You being jealous was the most shocking for him. You’re jealous? why? he may be a knight captain, but you were infinitely more beautiful and amazing and- if this line were to continue on, it would fill pages and pages of writing. An entire novel dedicated to every affection you’d offer and how he would call you.

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