#if it's not coherent it's because i can barely see through the water in my eyes

[hayaku14]

thinking about old and grey kaishin, comfy in their living room, lazing on the sofa, empty mugs and a plate of half-eaten cake left on the coffee table. kaishin sitting so closely, so easy. kaishin invading each other's space as natural as breathing. kaishin basking in each other's presence on a quiet sunday night.

kaito softly smiling and staring at the increasing laugh lines on shinichi's face. shinichi gently brushing away kaito's greying hair and tracing the countless crinkles in his eyes. shinichi sliding down his hand into kaito's neck, scratching on a ticklish spot to pull a giggle out of him; to see more of those beautiful lines that litter his face.

kaito giggling as he takes shinichi's hand off his neck. kaito staring reverently as shinichi's hand shakes in his. kaito looking back at a time when everything was still new and unfamiliar; a time when shinichi's hand shook the same way in his but for a different reason. kaito looking now at shinichi's hand, trembling all the same but they are also calloused and wrinkly, the hold on him sure and steady. kaito closing his eyes as he puts shinichi's hand on his lips. kaito leaving a lingering kiss that still leaves shinichi red on the cheeks.

kaito holding shinichi's face in both hands and peppering him with kisses. a kiss on the nose, a kiss on the cheek, a thousand kisses on the worry lines he caused on his forehead. kaito sliding off shinichi's glasses to give him a firm but chaste kiss on the lips. kaito pulling away with that same teasing smile all those years ago. shinichi pouting and red and so achingly fond pulling him right back in to give him a proper kiss. a little nibble, a little tongue. a little kiss to remind him whom he belongs to, even after all this time.

kaito and shinichi pulling apart breathless and smiling. eyes bright with mischief, cheeks cherry red, and still so utterly in love.

[yunnimilk]

,, ! 𑁍ࠬ ܓ | ; AMAB ! Osamu Dazai x Bot ! AMAB ! Reader !

𝜗𝜚 kinks / tags ! ; creampie, overstimulation, belly bulge, teasing, oral sex [ dazai receiving ], thigh riding [ just for a bit ], slight degradation and a lot of praise, light feminization [ I call readers underwear "panties" ONCE and Dazai calls them princess ]

𝜗𝜚 . . | ; short oneshot / : cw ; none actually, just the fact that Dazai is probably OOC since I was really focusing on the smut part and that you both are drunk , reader has no masculine or feminine pronouns but they have AMAB language

ᥫ᭡. SUMMARY ; you and dazai are at a beach house, next to a glistening body of water. It was your honeymoon, suddenly, you guys had too much wine on the beach, leading you two having a fruitful night ~

NSFW UNDER THE CUT !!

Wine glasses clasping together for "cheers" the alcoholic liquid inside almost spilt from the motion. Dazai wouldn't consider wine to be one of his favorite drinks, but it was nice to sit back and relax while his newly-wedded spouse was next to him. The honeymoon was simple yet very beautiful, getting closer to your new husband for about a week, cherishing these little moments for him ,

Sipping from the wine glass, the beverage tasted amazing, it was most likely fertilized from the 1800's, better as the years went by. Your fingers interlock with Dazai's as you both talk the night away, you got more tipsy, but Dazai didn't feel anything yet, he was more of a heavyweight after all .

The sun was setting, your skin was kissed by the sun from the yellow-orangish hue, it complimented it well, making the undertone a warmer orange. The water reflected a string of light because of the peachy sun, the waves crashing apon the high rocks you and Dazai were sitting on, turning nothing into little sudsy bubbles as they retracted from the stone walls. It was quite the sight, barely anyone comes to this part of the sea, it's perfect ,

After a while, you couldn't keep up with Dazai, he only startes becoming a bit drunk, you were almost completely intoxicated. You clung onto his body, panting like a dog .

"mm.. when did you get so drunk, sweetheart,, ?"

"shh...shu..shuddup.. mm.."

When you tried to speak, it came out as babbles, even when you were coherent it was just slurred speech. Dazai can't help but tease you !

Dazai stroked your hair, having a false sense of empathy for you, degrading you like it was funny ,

"you've only had a glass of wine, are you getting tipsy this easily? aww my poor baby.. ~"

He has his leg in-between your thighs, you couldn't take it, his limb slightly grazing your hardening cock and simulating your balls, grinding on it, basically riding it. It feels so good, your dick was drooling on Dazai's pants, forming a wet spot on it. To Dazai, this was the best view♡

"a..- ahh! ~ fuhh.. fuuhhck.. ~"

Dazai started to bounce his leg up and down, you accidentally fell foward from the intense pleasure. Your hole started clenching on nothing, it felt like it was leaking, you were so close to coming. It was like electricity coursing through your veins, you moaned like a pornstar, thankfully, no one was around .

Your cock was twitching uncontrollably, Dazai could felt it rutting against his leg. you wrapped your arms around Dazai's neck, moaning in his ear, he would've been lying if that didn't make him rock hard. grabbing your hips, making you go faster while you let out the loudest and breathless moans, tears streaming down your cheeks as you felt your hole tightening up and you came unrestrainedly, soiling your panties ,

You collapsed on top of Dazai, puffing out little moans as you tried to recover from the aftershocks .

"we're still not done, I still haven't came yet, and you left me all hard, princess.. ~"

He's quick to remove your underwear, seeing a sticky white slime connecting from your cock to your undergarments. the cool air hitting your dick, making you shiver, you can feel your cum traveling down your balls to your quivering hole, ahh you just looked so pathetically adorable in his eyes ~

"ouhh.. look at that, you've stained yourself, your so unbelievably messy, princess. You couldn't even control yourself ~"

You let out a painful whine, he chuckled at the noise. he reached down to kiss your neck and suck on it until it turned a deep purple, tingles went to your dick as he bit down on your shoulder, and your hips jerked up ,

"ah ah ah.. easy there, I'll fuck you in a second"

"puh..- puhlease!~ ah, nghh ~"

Dazai arose his head up, he enjoying how pitiful you looked. Too bad that you were going to look more fucked out as he drives his meaty cock inside of you ♡

Fortunately, he decided to have mercy, he unzipped his pants. You perked up as you heard the sound, he giggles at your reaction. He pulls down his underwear to only spring out his hard, wet, cock out. You were salivating while looking at his meat slab, you were basically like a bear viewing cow beef .

He rested his cock on your hip, right next to your dick. Dazai looked through his coat pocket to find lube, it was strawberry scented !

"ah! there it is! ~"

He took out the lube and squirted it everywhere on your lower body, rubbing it sensually, making you get worked up and already producing pre-cum. Dazai was getting extremely horny, and didn't prep you, but he wouldn't immediately thrust into you, as he'd hurt you in doing so ,

He jerked himself a bit before actually entering you, but when he did, it felt so good. Your tightness was gripping the head of Dazai's cock, he was groaning in your neck. It took so much to not plunge himself in and out of your slick heat. You started to grind onto his cock, feeling it touch your prostate, which also sent lighting shocks in your body .

"mnh..~ that fast..?~ ah..h..~ alright, I'll give you what you want ~"

He started to piston himself in and out of your squelching hole. He saw the belly bulge poking out of your stomach, he pressed on that spot, your back immediately arching, screaming out his name. the force of his thrusts brought you closer and closer to your orgasm. you push back onto him, Dazai couldn't stop ramming his cock into your velvety walls ,

He was humping you like a bunny, you felt your prostate kept getting abused, trying to milk you dry. His fat dick was filling you up so well, you can feel how good he was fucking you, rearranging your guts. Your soft hole clenching and unclenching, squeezing Dazai's cock until he cums inside of you .

You were reaching your climax, and Dazai knew that, so he went faster and faster until the only movement you did was rapidly moving up and down his meaty cock, getting more desperate to squirt out your cum ,

"A..AH! ~ FUCK! 'SAMU, I- I'M GOING TO! -"

"mng! agh! fuck! me too! ~"

You came like a waterfall leaked out of your cock, strings of cum accidentally landed on your face. Dazai didn't stop, he was so close, he almost came just from the feeling of your walls clamping down on his dick. He felt his balls tighting and his cock twitching inside your convulsing heat .

"I think you can handle one more round, right, princess?"

"wh- angh! ~"

plap, plap, plap

how long has it been? it feels like he's been doing this forever

You couldn't come anymore, the times that you 'came' didn't let you gush out your sticky liquid. You officially had a dry orgasm, multiple times, and Dazai kept covering you with cum and filling you up with cum ,

"Dazaim... puhlease! I canmt cum anymowe! ~"

"ah- ahh.. s-sorry! I just can't..! ~"

Dazai started cumming again but kept thrusting, not letting go of your hip. strings of your cum and his trying to connect your ass cheek to his hips when he retracts his cock. Your balls were so sore, along with your asshole. You could tell that Dazai was getting tired, his thrusting has gotten slower .

"just one more time, mnh! please? ~"

Even though he asked you, he still kept on burying his dick in your hole, stretching it and imprinting his shape in your guts. Your legs were shaking, they were going completely numb !

You felt his fat cock spasming again, he made sure to be super rough when he finished his last orgasm, making you cum for the 6th time this night. Your teary, red eyes rolled back while you stuck your tongue out, you gave one last arch when Dazai stroked your dick ,

"angh! fuhck! fuckfuck itfeelssofuckinggood! ~"

Dazai released his seed in you once again, his cum trailed down your hole and your thighs, it took courage for him not to fuck you again. Although, he got hard again, seeing your cockdrunk expression did a number on him .

"hey, how 'bout you suck me off? pleaseee!! "

You sat up, with the help of Dazai since you were struggling through the pain. Little grunts left your mouth as you were face with Dazai's cock, your hot breath made his dick fully stand up. Experimenting with it by giving the head tiny kitten licks then fully deepthroating him, gargling sounds and Dazai's moaning could be heard from a 12 mile radius. Gripping your hair then forcefully moving you up and down like a sex doll ,

"agh, baby! you're doing so.. good! ah! ~"

He pushed your head directly infront of his pubic hair, the moans that you let out sent vibrations on Dazai's cock, you could smell the sweat collecting on it, and you can taste the salty cum intruding your throat. The man above you pats your head .

"you did so well, princess ~"

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Imagine Malleus getting in the body of a fragile you with iron deficit (you know those people that just sit/lay in bed chill and somehow got their wrist sprained? yeah i am one of those people) Btw: i recently came across your page and i literally feel in love with your writing ❤️, as a person who can't do much activities because of my fudging frail body creators like you give me a lot of motive to keep going it's really nice to read such high quality things and see such nice people, and as someone who consideres themselves very judgy(? i can tell you are one incredibly amazing content creator/writer, i'm sorry if what i just wrote isn't very coherent but it's just me being very excited thanks to your content ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much!!! I'm so happy that my writing is able to help you! I'm glad I can do this for you! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Iron-Deficient Body Switch | Yandere Malleus Draconia

It’s increasingly bad for you

Because he’s not as willing to listen when instead of a minor bruise your whole wrist is broken

Or how your heart occasionally beats incredibly too fast when your not doing anything strenuous

Or how your mouth oddly waters not for the water in the glass but for the ice

He can barely comprehend that someone as lovely giving+ as you is constantly going through this

But his respect doubles immensely when you forge on

Demonstrating your strength that seems typical for others

Of course it’s nothing in the face of his strength

But it’s something 

And that might be your only saving grace against Malleus’ locking you away

But one wrong fall or close call 

Or even a mere brush with danger for you and he’s absolutely done

If it’s not a tower it’s Diasomnia

If not Diasomnia, Briar Valley

To think you’re focused on returning to a world that hasn’t cured you immediately sickens him

“Stay with me, my Child of Man. This way I can show you the true capabilities of magic.”

He’s asking now

But he won’t be for long

He’s determined to help you, save you because in his mind what freedom you do have just can’t be had because of your body

He wants you to be healthy

To be able to enjoy all that he wants to experience with you 

Without you being in pain or hurt

“Please, let me do everything for you. I couldn’t wish for anything more than to help have you.”

Let him pamper you that way he might respect your freedom a bit more

[literary-motif]

Midas

Andrew Marston x Reader

You have a fight with Andrew. It does not end well.

“I hate this so much!” you exclaimed, throwing up your hands in exasperation. The words would not come, and you needed to type up this in-depth review tonight. “I just want to read these lovely little manuscripts and write some silly little notes on the margin, not do this!”

Andrew chuckled tiredly at your theatrics, continuing to chop the carrots for dinner. Today had been particularly challenging at the museum. He had been looking forward to spending the evening with you for the whole day, cooking you dinner and cuddling on the couch until you fell asleep in each other's arms. It was a fail-proof remedy to improve his mood, and he desperately longed to be trapped in your soothing embrace until all his worries melted away like wax under a flame.

“I wouldn’t call the blocks of paper you go through ‘little,’ exactly,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you from the kitchen aisle, “Nor are your comments ‘silly.’ You do your work well and thoroughly, Darling.” Perhaps a little too much of the latter, he reasoned, the sight of your frown as you continued staring daggers at the words in front of you both amused and annoyed him.

You had promised to reduce your working hours. You had promised to call it a day when he got home, no matter the unfinished work. Yet here you were, going back on your word to him.

“Yeah yeah,” you mumbled, waving dismissively as you continued working on the report. “I’m not sure why I’m struggling so much with this, honestly. I know what I want to say, but the words get jumbled when I try to express myself coherently” — you paused, reading over the absolute garbage you had just typed out and deleting it again with a groan, trying again — ”And I don’t see why I should be the one running the numbers here either. What do I have to do with mathematics? Why do they want me to do it?”

“You should really take a break,” he said, trying to drain the impatience from his tone as much as possible. 

It was obvious you were tired, and no matter how much you hated leaving your work unfinished before you allowed yourself to rest, he knew that what still needed doing would get done in at most half the time tomorrow, when your body and mind were rested, than it would take you to do today.

Doing a half-spin, Andrew raised the lid of the cooking pot, adjusting the heat to keep the water from boiling over. “If you can’t finish it, I can always do it for you,” he added absentmindedly, pulling out another pot to cook the carrots. 

His words made you pause, stilling the sound of your typing as they fully registered. An odd feeling of inadequacy washed over you as you looked up at Andrew. Surely, he had not meant to sound condescending. But the wording, the way he phrased it, the careless tone in which he told you that whatever you were struggling with, he could complete with barely any effort at all—

If you failed, he was sure to do it right.

“What,” you began, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice as you dropped your gaze to your half-finished review, “do you think I’m incompetent?”

Your tone must have been flatter than you had meant it to be because Andrew’s head snapped up immediately. “What?” he asked bewildered, confusion evident on his face, “No! Why would you— what are you talking about?”

You scoffed, the hurt his words caused you only now fully settling in. Why had he offered to do it for you instead of simply offering his help? Was that what Andrew thought of you? That you were inefficient, slow, and dragging him down, failing at doing useless little things he wouldn’t even bat an eye at doing?

“Do you think I’m unable to do my own work? Is that it?” you asked, the ache in your heart quickly bleeding into annoyance. You frowned, resuming your work. There was no way you could concentrate and finish this review now that the air between you and Andrew was filled with tension. 

The thought of him being right — that you truly could not finish this on your own right now while he could probably do it in less than twenty minutes — made your jaw clench, further fueling your anger at the situation.

“I never said that!” Andrew exclaimed. His shock at your initial reaction quickly fading into exasperation. This was not the way he had hoped this evening would progress, and the last thing he wanted to do right now — or ever, actually — was fight with you. Especially when he figured that it was your exhaustion making you snap and jump to conclusions. Turning off the stove to give you his full attention, he began with a calmer tone. “Darling, what—?”

“You sure implied it,” you muttered pettily, not looking up even as his footsteps drew closer.

“I did not imply anything,” he said, placing his hands on the kitchen table and looking at you closely. 

You still refused to meet his gaze, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen. He was growing tired of it, his fried nerves from a long day at work adding to his own irritability. So knowing all your files were saved automatically, he pushed your laptop shut. 

“Look at me when you accuse me of things at least. Frankly, I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up over, so how about you explain it to me instead of acting out dramatics.”

“Oh, ‘acting dramatic,’ am I?” you scoffed, annoyance turning into outright anger as you rose to your feet as well. “At least I don’t waltz it everywhere and declare that I can do everything perfectly and with no effort at all unlike some people, just because I’m a few years older and held a damn professorship!”

Andrew’s expression darkened, his mood souring further as he listened to your opinion of him. “I don’t know how I did not fail you in literature,” he said, his tone of voice reverting to his flat academic monotone, “evidently you are abhorrent at reading between the lines.”

The angry reply died on your tongue as his words sunk in, and you blinked at him Once. Twice. 

Silence hung heavy between you two as you looked at him speechless. His words reminded you of the power imbalance that had hung over your heads and, while it never truly felt that way, it was undeniably there all the same. 

Although you had been the one to bring it up, it still knocked the breath out of you to hear Andrew wield his power over you.

“Wait, Darling, no. That was—” he stuttered, running a hand through his hair nervously. He was frustrated. This was the opposite of what he wanted. The argument was bleeding into a fight, and he feared that he had escalated it now even though he had set out to do the opposite. “I didn’t mean to—”

You only shook your head once, expression blank as you straightened and walked away towards the entrance hall. He watched you, the gears in his head turning for a moment until he heard the rustling of your coat. He dashed to the door. 

“Where are you going?” he asked around the lump in his throat, hands balled into fists to stop them from shaking as an argument that happened years ago flashed before his eyes. 

The last part he saw of his brother was his back, disappearing behind the slam of the front door as he walked away from him. The last thing Andrew said to him was a tearful ‘I’m sorry,’ nearly drowned out by the church bells tolling for mass. It was not enough neither to keep him from leaving nor for him to stay in Andrew’s life.

His brother disappeared entirely when he stepped through that door, and perhaps he would have managed to slip from Andrew’s mind as well if he didn’t stare back every time he looked at himself in the mirror.

“Out,” you answered briskly, putting on your shoes.

“What do you mean ‘out’?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly. 

He could not bear the thought of you leaving, could not face the possibility that this could be it — you could walk away from him just like that, shattering his heart and leaving a mess of broken shambles in your wake that he would never have the energy to place together again.

“When will you be back?” Andrew asked, heart racing as he wracked his brain for a way to get you to stay when he saw you pick up your keys. ”Where—”

“Just out, Andrew!” you said with more force than necessary. “I need to clear my head.”

Andrew panicked, the image of his brother disappearing behind a slammed door making him tremble. 

“Running away from conflict, are you?” he said shakily, his tone as daunting as he could manage. If you continued your argument, that meant you would stay. He could turn this around and keep you from leaving. If you were screaming at him, at least you were still here. “How mature of you.”

The anger flashing in your eyes at his words felt like a newly ignited fire. “Immature, am I?” you spat, stepping towards him. “How rich coming from you,” you said, pointing an accusing finger at him, “Your favorite movie is a child’s movie!”

Andrew clenched his jaw. Bringing up his childhood, one of the most vulnerable sides of him and one that had taken him a lot of courage to trust you with, felt like a stab in the heart. It hurt hearing you use it to make a point. 

It hurt hearing you use the trust he put in you against him. Rationally, he knew you didn’t mean it; the words were spoken in anger. Still, it was hard not to take them to heart, especially with how closely connected this part of himself was to his brother. 

Andrew stiffened, his back straightening as if the walls he was rebuilding around himself drew him up as well. “I have achieved more in my career than you ever will!” he retaliated, panic overshadowed by hurt and anger.

You let out a huff of laughter, looking at him incredulously. “You’re so arrogant. I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before. What, you think academic validation is everything?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “At least I managed to make friends during my time in university because I’m not an insufferable, uptight, perfectionist asshole so full of himself because—”

You cut yourself off, biting back the insult. 

“Because what?” Andrew asked challengingly. “Go on. Or are you too much of a coward to speak your mind?”

Your expression darkened. The irony of being called a coward when you were the reason this relationship developed in the first place left a bitter taste on your tongue. 

“Because mommy and daddy never taught you how to make a mistake,” you finished flatly, relishing the expression of hurt flashing across Andrew’s face and wiping away the self-satisfied smirk. 

He felt like he’d been slapped. 

All the trust he had put into you, opening up about his difficult family relations — his parents, his brother — ultimately leading him to be alone in the world, was now thrown carelessly at his feet. You stomped on his heart, taking all his secrets and insecurities, and laughed in his face.

Blinking away tears, he clenched his fists. “At least I don’t struggle with basic mathematics and English,” he retaliated, raising his voice to hide how it shook, “because I actually spent my time studying instead of ogling my professor!”

“Are you calling me stupid you prodigy?” you screamed. 

“What if I am?” Andrew screamed back, holding your gaze. “Do try to keep up with me, but oh” — he chuckled condescendingly — “I forget. You’re too slow. How I put up with you daily is a mystery even I haven’t figured out yet.”

His words made your heart sink. Was this what he thought of you? You still hadn’t fully forgiven yourself for being the reason he quit his job at the university. Having the confirmation of your deepest fears — that you were a burden to him, that you were too stupid, too slow for his excellent mind — tore you apart. 

You averted your gaze, turning from him to hide the tears in your eyes. He did not say anything as you dashed to the door with a choked-off sob, letting it fall shut behind you without sparing him another glance. 

It made you miss the immediate regret appearing on his face, his wide eyes as he processed his words and their implications. He stood frozen in the hallway, staring at the shut door as if willing you to walk back over the threshold. 

Andrew was alone again. 

[wrathofrats]

Hiya!! I've never sent an ask before so sorry if this is weird haha.

For the dialogue prompts, maybe number 34 and Swiss/Phantom? :)

“oh, yeah? you like it when i do that, baby?” Frommm the prompt list

Omg no ur not weird i love getting asks and actively encourage interacting with me

Have some t4t swisstom wet and messy grinding because its what god would have wanted. Cunt and clit and cock used to refer to both parties, and being weird about t dicks.

-

Phantom cant stop staring.

Swiss grips his hips, grinding desperately against phantoms cunt, his clit fat and engorged with arousal as it slides through his folds. Phantom watches as it peeks through, completely covered in his slick. Swiss could probably fuck him with it if he wanted to. It’s mesmerizing the way they move together, some debauched dance that leaves phantom seeing stars.

Swiss’ own cunt drools relentlessly, no doubt from the water part of him. It covers phantoms thighs, lines of slick attaching them when Swiss pulls his hips up to grind down again. The noise is sick, wet and dirty and phantom can’t get enough of it.

“Like something you see lovebug?” Swiss teases at the quint ghoul. His fascination is adorable, a spark of wonder to his eye as Swiss grinds their clits together. He pulls a couple moans out of him, watches as his legs shake with the friction.

“Fuck, want your dick in me” phantom practically whispers, as if he wasn’t saying it to Swiss at all. “Need to suck on your cock”

To say phantom was obsessed with Swiss’ t dick was a bit of an understatement. He could worship it if Swiss would let him. It’s just enough, just enough to stroke, suck on when he’s allowed, hold it in his mouth

“Such a good little cock warmer right bug?” Swiss coos at the ghoul between his legs, lips wrapped around him

“I know you do, just wanna rub our cocks together for now ok?” Phantom nods absentmindedly, continuing to stare.

Swiss reaches between them, rolling phantoms clit between his fingers. It’s slippery, phantom immediately arching off the bed to try and force any more stimulation that he can as he slaps his hand over his mouth to cover up the pathetic sound it tears from him.

“oh, yeah? you like it when i do that, baby?”

There’s only a nod in response, phantom much too worked up to speak coherently without embarrassing himself. It’s little, just enough for Swiss to get his fingers on it but phantoms so sensitive it barely matters, could cum just from the lightest touch.

“Can’t wait till you can fuck me with this” Swiss notes, taking his own t dick in his hand to rub against phantoms, “it’ll feel so good to be able to stroke them together, get your little cock in my hands”

“Please” phantom cries

“Finally be able to suck on you properly, wrap my tongue around it, you’ll just have the sweetest little dick won’t you?”

A heat builds in phantoms stomach as his hips lose their rhythm, mostly relying on Swiss to give him what he needs. He can feel his cunt drool onto the bed while they grind together.

“Wanna cum? Gonna get cock all wet and messy for me?”

“Yeah- need to cum around your cock Swiss” phantom pants

“Go on then, wanna see my good boy cum for me”

[cheecats]

To soothe you from your Riverstar's Home trauma, how about you ramble about oneripple?

YOU'RE SO KIND FOR LETTING ME GO OFF ABOUT THIS TY TY 💞💞💞 I'm terrible at structuring logical/coherent rambles, so I'll just dump some thoughts I have (obv these exclude Riverstar's Home and are roughly how I'd like to play with their dynamic [give them to me NOW erins!!])

LONG POST UNDER CUT!

Obviously this is way before the mountain cats arrive. BIG FAN of the idea that River Ripple and his small circle at the time were the ones to help One Eye and baby Star Flower get back on their feet after the two lost the rest of their family to the sickness we see again in TBS (I imagine One Eye had already treated them with the Blazing Star, but the two were still so terribly weak and unwell after that.) The group find the two living inside a rotting hollow and approach them. One Eye is, naturally, EXTREMELY aggressive and reclusive at first — distressed from sickness, grief, and fear of losing his tiny daughter, for he hasn't been strong enough to feed them much. The other cats are nervous around him, unwilling to approach the tom for his sheer size and ferocity, even if he is weakened. But not River Ripple. He understands why he is acting this way, that his aggression is a defense mechanism to mask his fear, and ultimately wishes to convey to One Eye that he is not going to do anything to them without his explicit permission first: and he sticks to that promise! Every day he sits outside the makeshift shelter with food, asking permission to come inside, leaving prey, water and herbs at the entrance if One Eye is asleep or simply says no. He never challenges it, and simply obliges and wishes him and Star Flower well. It is through this gradual process that One Eye begins to somewhat relax around River Ripple, allowing ONLY him to come inside, communicating his and Star Flower's needs and whatnot (Vulnerability moment!!)

Although she was too young to remember, once she began to recover, Star Flower was always excited when River Ripple visited, coming up to him, chasing his tail, and telling him all about her big adventures (all just made up ones, but River Ripple would always listen and ask her questions about them!) One Eye initially doesn't take well to Star Flower going up to the near-stranger, pulling her back or growling at River Ripple to back off. But over time, he sees that the risk is minimal, and the two never leave his sight while interacting. Besides, it stops Star Flower pestering him to entertain her for just a bit (also I just find this funny because adult Star Flower can barely recall this and River Ripple is just looking at her like omg you've gotten so tall now!!! I remember when you used to tell me how you beat up monsters and dogs 🤭💙!!)

SO LIKE skipping the recovery period, and now One Eye and Star Flower are more present outside … One Eye falls first. He initially is bothered by this, still grieving the loss of his mate and their other kits moons ago. But the feeling is nonetheless there. It's complicated, because at first he had every intention of claiming the area for himself and pushing River Ripple & his friends out… but as much as he tried to resent River Ripple's philosophy, there was just something so…. soothing yet powerful in the way he carried himself. He realises he actually enjoys his company, which is also weird for him! One Eye has lived among opportunistic cats his entire life, learning that being aggressive and domineering is the only way to make it, and that the passive and meek were destined to be crushed. But River Ripple is a curious example to him. He is gentle and patient, but completely capable of establishing boundaries and shutting down veins of discussion that belittle or threaten him. He would call out One Eye's bullshit every single time, but in a way that didn't escalate the situation. His heart was soft and his identity was strong in that. Kindness without weakness??? In MY Warrior Cats??? Impossible??? (Erins: yes it's impossible. 🗿)

Anyway, montage of One Eye giving terrible rizz and making a complete fool of himself 90% of the time — getting frustrated and defensive while everyone else is like🧍‍♂️. River Ripple is confused at first, but slowly begins to catch on. He finds it both amusing and sweet… and yeah! He realises he does feel the same way! He always found One Eyes protectiveness of Star Flower warming, found his intelligence to be engaging, and he genuinely believes there is good in the tom's heart (me shaking my head slowly.)

First date? Swimming lesson! One Eye is terrible! He's half drowned, scrabbling onto River Ripple every .2 seconds, and hates how pathetic it makes him look. But River Ripple is patient, assuring him that they can always try again some other time, and that it took him a while to get used to it too <:)

^ I feel like it's important to emphasize that One Eye genuinely feels like he can relax around River Ripple. That this cat doesn't have any ulterior motivation to trick him or take from him. Nor' does River Ripple ever belittle his failures or negative traits. They simply exist, are acknowledged, and pass like water.

But of course there is difficulty in how these two's ideologies clash. Everyone's beliefs are different, but theirs almost completely counter. River Ripple's philosophy is peaceful. To live and let live, and be custodians of the land. One Eye's on the other hand is to conquer. To take, to fight for what you need, and to claim the land. While there is room to accommodate each other, they are both two strong individuals with strong identities. Neither is going to abandon their philosophy, and when they clash so strongly, it can make it impossible for them to see eye to eye on issues. Long term, that would be hard. I believe that is why they'd go their separate ways. It doesn't work out. But that is okay. For that period of time, there was coexistence, there was connection, and there was love.

TL:DR. Very brief romance! A spark of passion that burns then fizzles out when One Eye leaves to be on his own (with Star Flower) once again. River Ripple, of course, says One Eye can return any time if he needs anything. Even for a short visit. He never does. For everywhere the tom goes, there is destruction and disruption, and River Ripple's home is like an oasis to be left untouched in One Eye's head.

Even as One Eye's reputation worsens, they still feel for each other. River Ripple especially. He knows what One Eye is capable of, what he has done, and how downright hideous he can be. But it's hard not to miss the memory of him. (Cue the mountain cats like PLEASE stop talking about this asshole in flowery prose he is trying to kill us!!)

BONUS: Not really relevant here, but their presence in the narratives respectively as the punisher/destroyer vs the voice of reason… ooogh, sun that burns, moon that soothes e.t.c but that deity kind of vibe would be more relevant once they're spirits in the Dark Forest & Starclan!

I could go on forever but that's the meat of it. Ty ty i hope everyone enjoyed and its not terribly incoherent ✌️

[leclsrc]

hello!! may i request mick smut plsss with praise as always, u write smut mick so well ily!!!

you’ve been waiting – ms47

You miss your boyfriend when he’s away, so you miss no time in letting him know just how much.

auds here... 100% this was exacerbated by mick in the ice bath, christ hes hot. title from this.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... smut, penetrative sex, praise lots (as per auds law), kinda dom mick, also mick being good, breeding kink man, Praise. praise

Your boyfriend’s been so caught up with work lately, it’s almost a miracle when you catch him in between a meeting and an interview, on a night where he’s finally free. Just gonna finish this ice bath, he texts, wait for me baby. Anxious, and with desire brewing in the pit of your stomach, you exhale as you wait for him to arrive in his hotel room.

He’s toweling himself off, still shirtless when he does walk in. He rubs his hair dry, a damp tee slung over his broad shoulder. “Hey, baby.”

“Mick—!” You yelp when he catches you, grips you tightly. He’s cold all over, his smile devious against your neck when he feels you struggle. “Ah, put me down!” Water seeps from his skin onto yours; when he presses a kiss to your neck, he tastes the ice.

“Haven’t you missed me?” He says, clicking his tongue and setting you both down on the bed. Your skin’s cold now, too, you realize when he clambers atop you. “I know I have.”

“I really have missed you,” you counter. “But you’re frigid.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Am I?” He tosses the towel somewhere else and dips down to kiss you. Clearly, he’s not in the interest of wasting time. “Show me,” he says when he parts from you, voice mumbled and firm against your lips. “Show me how much you missed me, yeah?”

So you do, your hands warming against his skin, nimble as you wrap them around his neck, stroke over his shoulders; you pull him close, press your mouths together. His hands are cool against your hips, tugging your flimsy cotton shorts down until his fingers meet lace. “I’ve missed you too, baby. Missed your pretty face, this pretty pussy.”

“Mick,” you whine, shy, “c’mon, baby, be good and fuck me hard.”

“I’ll be good,” he says smoothly. “Know you love it when I am.”

You bite your lip teasingly. “You gonna be good for me, then?”

“Yeah, I plan to be,” he replies quickly, letting you pull his cock out from his shorts. He’s hot all over, so soon after the ice bath, just because you’re here. You’re excited, eager, and the thought of you wanting his cock this desperately sends warmth trilling through him in waves. “I want you so bad, princess, God.”

“Mmm, really?” You ask lowly, guiding his cock into you. He’s big, and you haven’t fucked in weeks—the sensation is dizzying, knocks you into a state of euphoria. He thrusts, and you feel the coil in your stomach tightening and loosening. His thumb presses against your clit—you’re even dumber now, brain muddled, thoughts losing coherence.

“Yeah,” he says gruffly. “So fucking wet, baby, you’re sucking me right in—”

“I know,” you breathe, whimpering. “Please, give me all of it.”

“Asking for all of it when you can barely take it,” he coos. “God, I’ve missed this.”

He’s been around Europe, working, for a while now. Away from you, away from this.

“I fucked my fist thinking about you. Thinking about—fuck—your eyes all rolled back, tongue out. Wishing I could see that face when you’re stretched out on my dick. Yeah?”

“Fuck, Mick,” you moan as your clit starts to pulse under his fingers. “I’m cumming,” you wail, breathless—more slick gushes down his cock as he continues to bottom out, your nails digging hard into the sheets. You writhe, overwhelmed by the feeling.

“Already?” Half amused, he’s panting desperately, his dick twitching in you. “It’s not even all the way in—Jesus. Such a good girl, baby.” 

You moan, nearly crying, the pressure in your eyes nearly causing tears to roll down your face. It feels so good, so big and stretching you out, thumb rubbing quick circles against your clit, his lips heavy and damp against your ear telling you the dirtiest, nastiest things that only serve to make you so much more wet.

He pulls away, wrangles your legs up from around him to pressed against you. The angle is so much better this way, and he gets to control you so much better, watch the air be knocked out of you every time he thrusts. You grip the sheets, ah ah ah leaving your mouth in whiny, high-pitched moans of overwhelm.

“Mick,” you cry out weakly. “Har—harder.” 

You squirm a little each time he bottoms out, but Mick keeps your legs pinned against your chest easily. He’s barely letting you move, grip bruising on your hips.

“Are you getting what you wanted?” he pants, slamming into you. “You asked me to fuck you hard, right?”

You nod tearily, so he continues to give you just what you asked for.

“You want me to fuck a load into you?” He groans, whiny almost.

You mouth affirmation hazily. You’re barely coherent, pleasure rolling through you and causing your toes to curl. He sees that, sees your mouth dropping open, sees your eyes rolling back. And he knows you’re about to cum.

“Cum for me again, then I’ll give it to you,” he pants. “Go.”

You nod, babbling nonsense as you spasm and cumming. It feels too good; your brows knit together and your lip almost bruises from how hard you bite on it. “You’re ruined,” he says with an innocent smile. “All ‘cause I was good for you. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yeah, you’re s’good,” you mutter dumbly. 

“You know I’ll always give you what you want,” he says. “Because you’re a real good girl for me, too.” 

He can still taste the water on your skin, but neither of you are cold anymore. He loves that taste; it makes his cock twitch inside of you, and he has to pull out quickly, or else it’ll make him cum. And he doesn’t want to cum yet, doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of him pumping his release inside of you.

Mick presses your legs down, so he can look at your eyes roll up, your tits jiggle. You smile up at him, winking, because you just love this side of him: it’s so fucking hot to see that hungry expression on his adorable face while he’s manhandling you with his greedy hands.

And you don’t seem to mind it. You’re sniffling, whining about how it hurts, about how it’s so big, Mick, wait wait wait—you’re still pushing your ass out eagerly so he can hit you that deep. And you’re still slurring out encouragements between each complaint, telling him how fucking amazing his cock is. So he gives it to you roughly, over and over and over, stopping only to nip at your jaw.

“Who’s Mick’s good girl?” He asks sweetly. “Who?”

“Mick,” you choke out, eyes squeezed shut from how good this feels. You’ve cum twice at this point. Your throat feels dry.

“Tell me,” he says. His voice hardens a little.

“Me,” you say, teary. “I am.”

“You’re what, baby?” He asks, hushed against your ear. “Come on, give it to me.”

“I’m”—you swallow, growing wetter around him, the slick sounds of your cunt loud—“I’m Mick’s good girl.”

“That’s it,” he says, encouraging your last orgasm out of you in a drawn-out, quiet whine. You cum together this time. He buries his head in your neck, whines as he releases his load inside you, gives you what you want as always. Your hands tangle into his blond hair, and you giggle when you’ve both come down.

“Love you,” you say, smiling and breathless. You stretch your legs out. 

“If an ice bath gets me sex this good, I’ll go five times a day,” he jokes, tired, against your shoulder.

[lighthouseshepard]

wrote some jarthur fluff for @ananxiousgenz , who recently had their wisdom teeth (stolen) taken out ❤️

"John?" Arthur whispers, hand hovering tentatively near the lamp sitting atop the bedside table. Its potential light would make no difference to him at all, yet he knew the other didn't care to sleep in the pitch black when he was alone - something about the dark world reluctant to leave him still, he said, but wouldn’t elaborate on. "Are you still asleep?"

His movements are hesitant, slow and mild lest he accidentally startle him awake. For the last four hours John had been slipping in and out of a fitful slumber, his periods of wakefulness marked by complaints of certain agony and a death he was surely hurtling towards, interspersed with a gentle pleading for Arthur to fetch him water. One of these things was easier to contend with than the other. Despite his prickling annoyance at John's ceaseless declarations of his own doom, it was just pitiful enough to be simultaneously endearing.

“John?” he tries again, toeing the line between wanting to reach out a hand, and leaving him be. From within the nothingness of his vision, he hears a quiet cough. Blankets shift, and John's voice sounds out muffled, his face pressed sideways into the pillow.

"I'm awake," he mumbles, only half coherent. "You can turn on the light."

"Alright," Arthur says soothingly. He feels the warmth of its glow against his skin as he flips it on, filling the bedroom with a soft, hazy yellow. "How are we doing, darling?"

John squints into the light, attempting to further bury his head. The low rumble of his voice had a distinctly unusual sluggishness to it, his words thick as if pulled from somewhere deep in his chest.

"Sore," is all he offers up. "I think my face is still... numb."

"Well, that's to be expected," Arthur reminds him, smiling at the other's mumbling tone

"It takes a while for the local anesthesia to wear off."

"It's been five days," John groans. "I’m rotting away here. How long until-"

"It's been barely five hours since we got home, dear."

Blinking up at him, John frowns. The blanket struggled to contain all six feet and more of him, huddled as he was. "Are you sure?"

"Quite certain," Arthur replies, lips twitching. “I deposited you here as soon as we got back, and you haven’t left.”

"Don't make fun of me. I can see that shit eating grin from here."

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," he says airily, trying and failing to force his mouth down into a more suitable expression. "Can I sit?"

"No."

"Ah, okay, suppose I'll just-"

"Wait, wait," John says hastily, wincing as he lifts his head. "Yes. Please?"

Humming a few aimless notes, Arthur takes a seat on the bed, crossing his legs. John adjusts to make room, struggling to curl around him. Weary limbs eventually settle into a position altogether unorthodox, yet after John's pleased huff of self congratulation, his head ends up in the center of Arthur's lap.

"That cannot be comfortable," Arthur comments dryly.

"You can't even see me."

"I can feel you twisted up around me like a cat. Wouldn't you rather lay back down?"

Arthur's hands, despite his teasing, are already in John's hair. Nimble fingers slip the tie free of his braid, winding through strands twisted carefully together. He feels him sigh, breath warm along his leg, and thinks only briefly about the juxtaposition of scarred skin amidst strands of ebony silk before letting the observation drift away from him.

"No," John protests. "I'm fine here."

"Well what if I'm not?" chuckles Arthur. Shoulders slump, an instinctive reaction to an argument he knows he's already lost, and was helpless against from the start.

"Too bad.”

“You’re just irritated, aren’t you?” he asks wryly. “Because they-”

“They took my teeth, Arthur."

The disgust in John's accusation stirs a laugh from him. "It's just your wisdom teeth, John," he retorts, not unkindly. One thumb brushes along his jaw, taking care not to press too deeply into still swollen skin. "I don't have mine either."

"Who's fault is that?" John mutters indignantly. "Yours, I think."

“I’m going to disregard how that made absolutely no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” John sniffs.

"Oh, sorry," Arthur snorts, "next time I'll let you continue to be in horrific pain before dragging you to the dentist's to make an appointment. Come on, John, you have to feel at least a little better? Surely?"

There's a stifled silence. Arthur waits for what he considers to be far too long before John speaks.

"Maybe," he admits. "Or I will. I guess.”

"See?" Arthur pats him consolingly on the head, hands resuming their mesmerizing work of gently undoing the braid. "You're more lucid than you were a little while ago, anyway."

"Can we not talk about that?" John asks, eyes slipping shut.

"What, all the things you said when you were coming out of it?"

"Yes." There is a petulant grumble to his tone which Arthur gleefully ignores. "Arthur -"

"And how you told me I was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, and anyone would be lucky to have me, and, oh, was I dating anyone?"

"Arthur, I swear to-"

"I'm sorry, John," he laughs, stopping himself before he does any more damage. "It was just... cute, is all."

"Cute," he muses dryly, turning the word over like he was intrigued and unimpressed by it at the same time.

"Mhm," agrees Arthur, brushing strands off his cheek. "Amusing, too, but that's only partially relevant. You should hush, now," he adds. "You're only going to make the soreness worse by talking."

With an incoherent rumble, John relaxes further into him. He was fully curled up now, still halfway under the blanket, breathing beginning to even out into something peaceful. Already Arthur was lamenting the stiffness in his back yet to come, but John felt too comfortable to move. Besides, if this kept him quiet and allowed him some proper rest, his spine would be a worthy sacrifice.

"Go back to sleep, John," Arthur says quietly. "I'll be here when you wake."

"They didn't even let me keep the teeth, Arthur," John groans ruefully.

"I know."

"My own fucking teeth."

"I know, darling,” he repeats, trying to shift beneath John’s immobile weight. “So you keep saying. Why would you even want them?"

“It’s the principle of the thing It was a part of me.”

“Uh huh.”

“Is there anything else I'm going to lose from this new body without warning? Anything else that will turn against me?"

"Mm," Arthur hums, "maybe just a kidney around your next birthday, if you're lucky."

John, too tired to crane his neck and stare up at him in horrified fascination, inhales slowly. "What?"

"I'm kidding," he says quickly, "only kidding. The rest of those teeth are yours to contend with forever."

Muttering something incoherent, he shoves his face back down into the crest of one thigh. "Oh. Okay."

"Sleep, John. Let the medication do its work. I’ll be here when you wake, I promise.”

“Promise?” comes the vague mumble from his lap.

“Yes!” he says in a hushed exclamation, chuckling. “I’ve just said so. John…?”

Exhaling slowly, he rests one arm along John’s shoulder. “Of course you’re already asleep,” he says to the still atmosphere, influenced only by John’s slow breathing and his own murmur. “I’m going to regret this in the morning, aren’t I?”

[daisynik7]

A Bento for Kento

Epilogue: A Street Food Festival

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: fluff and it gets suggestive, but still pretty tame!

Summary: You and Ren invite Nanami to a street food festival.

Notes: Please enjoy the very last chapter of A Bento for Kento! I used this cool list if you want to look at any of the street foods I referenced: Japanese Festival Food You Will Love. Thank you all for reading and showing love for this series! This is very near and dear to my heart, so I’m so happy to share this with you! Reblog, comments, and/or likes are always appreciated!

Previous Chapter | ao3

A Bento for Kento Masterlist

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

One week after their last lesson together, Nanami receives a call from Ren. 

“Hello, mentor!” His cheery voice rings through the phone.

“Nakamura, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because I told you to only call me in an emergency.”

“Is that what you said? Oops, sorry,” he replies, not sounding sorry at all. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Nanami glances down at his bare chest, towel wrapped around his waist, steam filling up the bathroom from the hot shower that’s already running. “I was just about to hop in the shower, so yes.”

Ren snickers. “Oh oops, that is bad timing! Sorry to catch you while you’re naked.” He emphasizes that last word in particular.

In the background, Nanami hears a woman’s voice yell, “Ren! Stop!”

It’s her. Is he blushing or is it the steam from the hot water? Either way, his cheeks are warm all of a sudden. He clears his throat nervously. “Nakamura, what is this about?”

Ren calms down from his fit of laughter. “Well, my sister wants to ask you out –”

There are sounds of shuffling on the other end now, as if someone is yanking the phone away from Ren. “Hello, Nanami?” Her voice is clear this time as she speaks directly to him.

His breath hitches before he manages to say her name in return. 

“What Ren meant to say is that we would like to invite you to go to a street food festival with us. Tomorrow night.”

There’s a flutter in his belly. A food festival. With her. It’s a dream come true. He doesn’t respond right away, too giddy to formulate coherent sentences.

“Hello? Nanami? Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here. I would love to go.”

This time, he hears her breath catch. Is she smiling? He imagines her smiling, glorious and bright, just as he remembers from the last time they met. “Okay! I’ll have Ren send you the address to my house. We can meet here tomorrow at 6:00 and walk there together.”

“Sounds good. I really have to go now. My shower is running and I’m still very naked.”

She giggles. “Okay! Well, I hope you and your naked body have a great shower, see you tomorrow, bye!” Before the line clicks, he hears Ren groan in the background, yelling, “Gross!”

Even after she hangs up, Nanami still holds the phone against his ear, shocked. Did that really just happen? He finally sets it down and hops into the shower, processing this recent turn of events. She invited him to a street food festival. She’s giving him the address to her home. And she’s thinking of his naked body…

He smiles, letting the water trickle down his face. 

It’s a date.

~~~

You chuck a pillow at Ren’s face as he stifles his laughter. “I can’t believe you said that!”

“He told me he was very naked! I didn’t know what else to say!” you exclaim, embarrassed.

He grimaces. “Ugh, can we please just stop saying the word naked? I admit, I started it, but I didn’t think it would lead us here.”

“Agreed.” 

You sit on the couch next to him, leaning your head back, remembering the most recent encounter with Nanami from last week. After you had your moment with Nanami, Ren let out a huge burp that quickly brought you back to reality. You watched as Nanami devoured your food happily, giving you compliments from time to time about each dish.

The chicken is fried to perfection and it’s so flavorful.

Tuna mayo rice balls are my favorite.

I thought my tamagoyaki was good, but yours is far superior.

Then, Ren suggested you get a crash course on Jujutsu Sorcery from none other than Nanami himself, which you reluctantly agreed to, at first. When he started lecturing you about cursed energy, using the whiteboard to jot down notes and little sketches, you couldn’t help but fantasize about him being your professor and you being his naughty student…

Since that day, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Ren always mentions how serious and boring he is, but those are the last words you’d use to describe him. He is passionate. Passionate about helping others. Passionate about teaching. Passionate about food. He is captivating. His smile, the way he speaks, the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. What is he like when he’s not at a desk? Or when he’s not dressed in a suit with a briefcase in hand? What are his interests, his hobbies, his pet peeves, his favorite foods?

You’re determined to know more. You hope he’s willing to show you.

That Saturday, Ren suggests you bake chocolate chip cookies as a small treat before heading to the festival. Being the doting big sister you are, you oblige. You pop them into the oven as you get ready in your room. The outfit you choose to wear is a simple one: A boho style floral dress with matching sandals. You study yourself in the mirror, confident and comfortable in your attire.

Ren approaches you in the kitchen after you finish getting changed. “Okay sis. I think it’s time I have the big brother talk with you.”

Confused, and slightly amused, you say, “I don’t think that’s how this works, bud.”

He grabs your shoulders with both hands, expression serious. “No, I need you to listen to me for the next minute, okay?” Concerned now, you nod at him.

“I say this with all my heart. You are one of the best people I know. You deserve the world. No, you deserve the universe. And as much as I like Nanami, if he so much as hurts you or makes you feel inferior in any way, I will track him down and teach him a lesson, if you catch my drift.”

You face relaxes. “Sure, pal, whatever you say.”

“I’m serious!”

You pinch his cheek. “You really are the sweetest, Ren. But you have nothing to worry about! Nanami and I aren’t dating. We’re all just going to a festival together. Nothing is happening between us.”

“Oh please, I see the way he looks at you. There’s tension. It’s only a matter of time before he confesses his undying love for you,” he says, tongue sticking out in disgust.

“He won’t. Someone like Nanami would never fall for someone like me.”

“Oh please, Nanami would be so lucky to be with you! And besides, as gross as it is to see you two weirdos flirt with each other, I think you and him would make a great couple, a power couple! Like cookies and milk! You’re the cookies because you’re sweet and he’s the milk because he’s basic.” He chuckles at his own joke.

Grinning, you say, “Thanks for the pep talk, booger. I love you.”

He squeezes your shoulders. “I love you too, sis.”

The alarm for your cookies goes off at 5:45, fifteen minutes before the time you told Nanami to meet. You take the cookies out of the oven, letting them cool, waiting for his anticipated arrival.

~~~

Nanami checks his phone. 5:58 PM. He stands outside a quaint house, stalling. Tonight, he decides to wear a dark blue polo shirt with khaki shorts, no glasses. It’s his casual outfit, at least for his standards. 

Two minutes later, 6:00 on the dot, he knocks on the front door. He hears movement on the other side, someone scrambling to put their shoes on. Then, Ren yell out, “Hey sis, he’s here! Hurry up!”

The door opens, a bright grin plastered on Ren’s face. “Mentor!”

Nanami greets him with an equally polite expression. “Hello, Nakamura.”

He motions for him to come in. As soon as he walks through the door, a delectable scent fills his nostrils. The whole house is brimming with this mouth-watering smell.

“My sister is just putting the cookies on a plate; she’ll be ready to go soon.”

Nanami looks around until his eyes land on the kitchen. It’s like a scene from a movie. Sunlight streams through the kitchen window and shines on her like a spotlight. She’s holding a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies in one hand, waving at him with the other. The floral dress she wears makes her look celestial. And there’s that smile. That gorgeous, stunning smile. The one that sets his heart racing, his cheeks burning, his skin tingling. 

She’s basically a princess. Maybe even an angel. Has he died and gone to heaven? 

“I hope you like cookies, Nanami! It’s our pregame before the main event,” she giggles. It’s music to his ears.

“It smells wonderful,” he comments, smiling.

“Here, try one.” She passes a hot cookie to him. He’s tempted to eat it directly from her hand, as if she’s feeding him, but he exercises all his willpower to resist doing that.

It’s still warm, the chocolate chips melting lusciously against his fingertips. He takes a bite and it’s exactly how he expects it to be: perfect. Chewy, buttery, chocolatey perfection. He really is in heaven. “Wow,” is all he can say.

She grins proudly. “That good, huh? I’m happy you like it.” He wants to make her smile like this all the time.

He savors the rest of the cookie in silence, licking his fingers clean when he’s finished. He catches her watching him with a vague look on her face. Gazing at her, he flirtatiously tilts his head to the side. “All done.”

He revels in the expression she's giving him now. Is she nervous? Apprehensive? Turned on? Whatever it is, there's electricity in the air between them. And Nanami is all in.   

Ren clears his throat and says, in an irritated tone, “Okay, okay, enough. Let’s go.” He grabs three cookies from the plate and leads the way out the door, the other two following close behind.

~~~

The street food festival is only a ten-minute walk from your home, the same one you and Ren attended the night he told you all about Jujutsu Sorcery. Your brother walks slightly ahead, munching on the treats as he listens to his music through his headphones. Nanami is beside you, his body so close that he brushes against your elbow with every swing of his arms.

“What kind of food are you looking forward to trying tonight?” you ask.

“I like Takoyaki and Yakisoba. And Taiyaki, of course. Ren told me that you also like that?”

“Yes! I love it! The last time we went, they were selling it with soft serve, but we were too full to try. We should definitely get it tonight! They also sell Yakisoba-pan. I’m sure you’d like that.”

“How do you know I would like that?” He nudges you, playfully.

“Because of your addiction to bread.”

“And how do you know about that?”

“Okay, don’t make fun of me, but I looked you up on the Internet.”

Nanami eyes you, curious, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Before you make any assumptions, this was before Ren told me all about you, I needed to make sure you weren’t sketchy!”

Amused, he asks, “So what did you find out about me?”

“You used to work as a stockbroker at this finance company I always forget the name of.”

“That is correct. And the name isn’t important,” he comments with a wave of his hand.

“You like cooking and reading.”

“Don’t forget eating. And drinking,” he smirks. “What else?”

You think for a few seconds before answering, “You like helping others. That’s what your bio said. But I see that myself because of how you are with Ren. You helped him so much this summer. He really looks up to you.”

There’s a serious expression on his face as he replies, “He shouldn’t look up to me. I’m just doing my job.”

You lean towards him to give him a little tap. “You’re too humble. You are a good person, Nanami.”

He stops walking and turns to face you, staring directly into your eyes, gaze intense. “You don’t really know me yet. I can be bad when I want to be.” One side of his mouth curves up into a devious grin. 

Your throat is dry all of a sudden. There’s a tingling below your belly. You like this. This is much different than the first time you met him. He barely spoke a word to you then, and now he’s being so bold. So brazen.

“I think we can all be a little bad sometimes,” you say, quietly.

“I disagree. I don’t think you have a bad bone in your body.”

“You don’t really know me yet, Nanami. I can be bad when I want to be.” You give him a wink as you recite his words back to him, turning away to catch up to Ren.

~~~

She’s driving him crazy.

His intention is to flirt with her; to be bold and make her flustered. Behind his serious demeanor is charm and wit when the situation calls for it. He does not expect her to reciprocate it, though. He likes it. He enjoys this coy banter they have going on.

He likes her.

They arrive at the festival, air filled with the smokey scent of delicious food cooking. There’s a variety of vendors and festival games scattered throughout. The first stall they encounter sells yakitori. She buys two chicken skewers for Ren and one meatball skewer for herself. Nanami buys a chicken and leek skewer.

“Oh, Jiro just texted me that he’s here at the festival too! He’s getting okonomiyaki. I’ll go find him,” Ren says, grabbing the two chicken skewers from his sister. “Thanks for the yakitori, sis!”

Before he leaves, he looks at Nanami and his sister with a brow raised. “You two kids better behave yourselves!”

“Well, I guess it’s just us two now, Nanami,” she says, smiling. She eats a meatball off her skewer.

“I don’t mind. It gives me a chance to get to know you better.” He takes a bite of his chicken skewer. It’s yummy, perfect balance of umami flavor from the meat and leek, then a touch of sweetness from the glaze.

“Would you like to trade?” she offers, holding up her skewer.

She wants to share food with him?! This is the greatest day of his life.

“Yes,” he responds, passing her his yakitori. An indirect kiss, he thinks, blushing.

She takes a bite, not bothered by the fact that he just ate from the same spot. “Ooohh, it’s tasty! Good choice.”

Nanami tastes the meatball, also delicious. “This is pretty good too. But I will say, your chicken meatballs from a few weeks ago are better.”

She laughs. “You’re just being nice. I can’t compete with professionals.”

“I mean it. Yours are special.” He takes another bite, handing it to her to trade once more. She doesn’t say anything else as she observes him, slowly chewing her food. What is she thinking in that pretty head of hers? She finally breaks the silence, suggesting, “Should we try something else now?” 

He nods, letting her lead the way, curious. 

For the next two hours, they stroll through the festival, sharing different treats with each other: Takoyaki, Yakisoba-pan that she correctly predicted he would like, chicken wings, giant grilled squid, grilled corn.

As they eat together, they talk about each other’s lives. Nanami finds out she works from home for a local company. He tells her how he didn’t particularly like his job as a stockbroker and how he dislikes being a Jujutsu Sorcerer only slightly less. He recommends a few novels he thinks she would enjoy, and she suggests a list of movies she expects he would like.

They describe to each other what their “perfect day” would be. Nanami’s starts with an entire loaf of freshly baked bread paired with butter and jam, then a long hike somewhere up high with a nice view and a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch. For dinner, he’d go to his favorite Italian restaurant, then he’d end the night stargazing. When she shares hers, he imagines himself spending that perfect day with her, just as he wishes she would do with him. 

They talk about their favorite foods, pet peeves, hobbies. There is no shortage of topics, each conversation leading to another, and another. It’s effortless. It feels natural. 

Besides confirming that she is, in fact, a sweetheart, he also learns that she is smart, a good listener, and funny. Everything he assumed about her based on the bentos, the notes, and Ren’s constant praise of his big sister is correct. She’s wonderful in every possible way.

It feels like a proper date. Sharing food together, learning more about each other, exchanging flirtatious glances and touches. At one point, she blows on a Takoyaki piece to cool it down and feeds it to him, which he happily accepts. In another moment, he wipes a smudge of sauce from her cheek with his thumb and proceeds to lick it. She responds with a giggle and a bashful, “Thank you.”

After eating savory foods, they move onto dessert. Nanami gets Taiyaki filled with red bean paste and topped with matcha soft serve. She gets the same, except with black sesame ice cream. They sit down at a small picnic table, enjoying their fish-shaped desserts in a comfortable silence.

They haven’t seen Ren since his abrupt departure, and Nanami considers if this was his student’s plan all along. Is he trying to play matchmaker for him and his sister? And does he approve of if? Although he’s an adult who doesn’t need permission from a child to date another adult, he respects Ren and wouldn’t want to do anything that might make him uncomfortable.

As if she read his mind, she says, “Ren said we’d be good together.”

Nanami chokes on the last piece of his pastry. “What?”

Avoiding his gaze, she hides her face by turning to the side. “Sorry to be so forward. I just think it’s worth mentioning. In case you feel the same way as I do.”

His mind is racing. She likes him. He’s speechless. his brain short-circuiting from excitement and glee.

“Oh no, do you not feel the same way? I just thought we were having a good time, but maybe I misread things. Just forget I said anything." She buries her face in her hands, groaning.

He does feel the same way. She hasn’t misread anything. He has to do something to show her that. He scoots close to her, knee brushing hers underneath the floral dress. He’s blushing excessively, he can’t even look her in the eyes without combusting. He whispers her name, staring down at the ground. “I like you. I want us to keep seeing each other. I want more days like this.”

He finally finds the courage to meet her gaze. “I can’t remember a time I’ve ever felt this way about anyone.”

~~~

Your heart is beating so fast you’re afraid it might burst any second. It doesn’t help that you have been eating non-stop this whole night. But it was definitely Nanami’s confession that has you on the verge of cardiac arrest.

He wants to keep seeing you. He likes you.

His arm rests on the edge of the picnic table behind you, his other hand placed on your thigh. He caresses his thumb against the fabric of your dress, leaning closer to you. Dark brown eyes meet yours, seeking permission. Waiting. You can feel his shallow breaths tickle your skin, sending shivers along your spine. You smile, closing the gap. Lips brush yours gently, sweetness lingering from the dessert. He kisses you softly, carefully, with eyes closed. His arm behind you moves and suddenly you feel his palm on your face, thumb brushing ever so slightly against the skin of your cheekbone. The cacophony of festival sounds fades into the background. The only noise you hear now is your own heartbeat. Or is it his? Maybe it’s both.

He's holding back, which excites you. The way he’s touching you, as if you’re his fragile toy that he doesn’t want to break, so delicate and tender. You want so badly to give in, but you realize you’re still in public. Worst of all, Ren is roaming around here somewhere. The last thing your poor baby brother needs to see is his sister and mentor going at it on a picnic table.

Reluctantly, you slowly pull away and open your eyes. He’s already looking at you with a dazed expression. You lay your hand over his, the one resting on your thigh. He entwines his fingers with yours and holds you in a firm grip. You let out a small huff and giggle, foreheads touching, both of you in a state of bliss.

“Don’t laugh like that,” he breathes out, shutting his eyes again.

“Why not?”

“I won’t be able to control myself if you keep doing that.” He clenches his jaw, restraining himself from whatever wicked desires are running through his mind. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

God, he is hot. Why did you stop?!

Your phone starts ringing, startling you. Letting go of his hand, you open your purse to retrieve it. As you rummage through your bag to find it, he leans onto the table with his left elbow, watching you, right palm back on your leg, inching closer to your inner thigh. He’s driving you crazy.

You answer your phone, voice trembling slightly from being flustered. “Hello? Ren?”

“Hey! Jiro left and I’m stuffed. Where are you guys?”

As you speak, you rest your hand on top of Nanami’s. He takes it, lifting it up to his lips, placing soft kisses between your knuckles.

You’re dead, deceased. Sent straight to heaven or whatever afterlife you believe in. This is paradise.

“Umm…we’re just sitting here at the picnic tables! Where, umm, where are you?” you stutter into the phone.

“I just got cotton candy, so I’m walking towards the tables now.”

You let out a small squeal and blurt out, “Okay, okay, see you soon!”. You hang up and quickly pull your hand from Nanami’s lips, which were just pressed to your wrist. He pouts at the sudden loss of touch.

“Ren is on his way,” you tell him, guilty.

Nanami smirks. “Okay.”

You eye him suspiciously. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“It’s nothing. Just thinking.”

“You better behave when Ren gets here,” you warn him.

“As long as he’s not a mind reader, we’ll be fine,” he responds, that coy grin still on his face.

All you want to do is pounce on him. You stand up to distance yourself in case he does something else swoon worthy.

Ren arrives, carrying a giant cotton candy shaped like a flower. He’s already bitten through some of the outer layer, mouth is covered in blue food coloring. “Hey guys! Did you eat a lot of tasty treats?”

“Yeah, we’re stuffed!”

Nanami clears his throat, smiling. “Yes. I’m very happy.” 

It’s dark now as you start your ten-minute journey home. This time, all three of you walk side by side with each other, Ren to your left, Nanami to your right. Ren chats about all the different foods he tried with his neighborhood friend. You and Nanami listen as your knuckles brush against each other, craving any form of physical contact. 

You reach the front door of your home, disappointed that the night is over and it’s time to say goodbye. You turn towards Nanami, commenting, “This was really fun. Thank you for joining us today.”

“It was my pleasure,” he replies, standing there awkwardly. It doesn’t seem like he wants to say farewell yet, either.

“Okay, I get it! I’ll head in first, geez.” Ren grabs the keys jingling in your hands and unlocks the front door, leaving you and Nanami to stare at him, confused. Stepping inside, he turns around with a smug expression on his face. “I guess my plan did work after all. I’m happy for you two.” He gives a final wave before shutting the door closed.

You and Nanami look at each other and laugh. The distance between you closes as you wrap your arms around his neck, his hands sliding around your waist. His eyes linger on your lips before he leans down to kiss you.

~~~

As they kiss, lips soft and sweet, he remembers the first note he received from her, not that long ago. The note that wasn’t meant for him but still meant everything to him. The note that flipped his world upside down. The tightness in his chest, the butterflies in his stomach, the longing he felt to meet this woman. And now she’s here, in his arms, completely captivating every fiber of his being.

The world is a better place with you in it. Always remember that.

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

Taglist: @liliorsstuff-blog @st-444-rgirl @pepper-elaine @ryumiii @hughugh20 @lucyrocks86 @bloompompom @vampyra-needs-food @extrasugafree @deepcloudspyhairdo @invisible-mori @justnamuaf @syynnaaah @unknownspecies @goldencattto @maqqiekwon @batafuraikisu @pxppetmxster @jesstuff @27th01 @bleachisfood @bloombb @kasumi-ii @azrarsveron @spicy-mapotofu @inciteterr0r

[sillyguy99]

* don't look now, but i lost my shoe.

(Undertale Sans x Reader)

Chapter One: * what's with these homies, dissin' my girl?

[Index | Next]

Notice:

(This story is nearly 5 years old, and though it doesn't show my best work, I decided to post it, just because I stopped it at chapter 18, when there were only 2 more chapters left to finish it. So... I'm gonna give it another shot – making minor edits to make the plot less dramatic and angsty, lol.)

(***Also, since Tumblr has a more limited format: italic texts are from you, the reader, and bold texts are from others.)

• • • • •

You've changed.

The best thing your boss did was to give you that warning.

You shouldn't keep working for the law if you're just gonna be a traitor.

How am I a traitor?

You work 9 to 5, sometimes 8 to 6, for the benefit of monsters.

Now, all of a sudden, our sex life goes down the drain.

I haven't slept with you since you got that promotion, and that was two whole months ago.

I'm supposed to be your husband, but you've left me in the dry.

I'm tired.

And I refuse to sleep with someone who won't support me in my new job.

Or should I remind you said I wasn't a real detective?

That my degree's 'worth shit', simply because of the field I'm working in these days?

               The rest is an ongoing, fruitless conversation you can't bother yourself with.

               Through reading those texts for what has to be the twentieth time today, you sigh, hiccup, and close your eyes tight, lifting your face slightly to avoid letting tears fall. 

               Barely two hours are left until he comes home to drop off your child, and the mere thought that you have to sleep with him five hours after that makes your stomach twist and churn. You don't want to imagine him naked: panting, heavy, and on top of you again, doing whatever he pleases with little regards to your own limits. Nausea takes over – violent, making you open your eyes and suppress a gag.

               You really, really don't want anything to do with him anymore.

               Yet, he insists you should remain married until your child reaches their eighteenth birthday.

               “At least wait until they're grown up,” he said. “Cuz what's six more years? Be honest with me.” Then, he chuckled. “As ugly as you frown when you see me, I doubt you hate me that much.”

               That had been a year ago.

               Would you really have to wait five more years until your freedom?

               The thought sends chills down your spine.

               While he was a good father, that adjective didn't really fit next to husband. 

               At the beginning of your marriage, yes – he was the best spouse you could ask for.

               Now?

               You'd rather eat drywall than have to spend a single second near him – without your child around, of course.

               With your newest agreement, it felt more as if your husband were a client, his payment being not making your life hell, and your service what he claimed was something a wife should be willing to give twenty-four seven.

               You shake your head and search for a distraction amongst the people surrounding the bar, aware you can only end up worse if you continue to dwell on the subject. The air presses down on you hot and heavy, a feeling that only increases the more time you stay seated without doing anything for your growing aches. Your sole companion is your mind when you realize you're too overcome with emotions to talk to someone without scaring them off. Chatter drowns out coherent thinking and sensory overload begins to show by how difficult breathing becomes. Seeking an escape route, you hold the bartender back with a raised hand and an 'excuse me'. Then, you ask him for some bottled water – the only kind he could touch willingly. Small embers flutter around the air as he turns around, leaving you alone with burning cheeks and a pounding headache. 

               Groaning, you pinch the bridge of your nose and blink through your blurry vision. Then, you adjust your glasses – despite knowing the excess shots have pretty much screwed you over already. The hour marked on your phone surfaces a sigh. How fast time seems to be going makes you notice you currently only have around an hour left before your husband arrives with your child. They would be staying with you while he went off to work, and the least you wanted was to look washed up for his arrival.

               "need somethin' else, pal?"

               You jolt at the new voice, deep and hearty.

               Reluctantly, you cast your gaze up to see a skeleton monster standing behind the counter, now glossy with polish. His face is tough to make out with the blurriness, yet you can tell he's looking at you. From the way he stands behind the counter and the stuffy look his suit gives off with its pristine and exaggerated formality, you figure he's a new employee. His newbie appearance doesn't erase the warm and welcoming aura most bartenders appear to carry by default, however. Instead, it makes his smile and words more genuine in his approach.

               It takes you a while to respond aside from shaking your head – mind hazy and disoriented. You thank him and sweep the water bottle off the counter, then turn the lid open, breathe in deep, and take a series of long, greedy gulps. Finally, you set it back down, more than half of it already gone.

               One more screw up, and you were out of your job at the law department for good.

               It doesn't help that you're currently hanging out at a place strictly and utterly forbidden by your boss: a hole-in-the-wall bar and grill establishment open to all, kept family-friendly during the day and becoming more daring during the night. It has been long since you ever drank alcohol of any sort, and it's beginning to show. You can hardly sit without tumbling pitifully to the side.

               “hey.”

               You're snapped back toward reality through the feeling of someone resting their arms over the counter, facing you and waiting for your return. 

               You frown and look up from the water bottle to see the same skeleton – his previous stuffy appearance appearing more natural now that he's taken off his tie and left two of the shirt's buttons unfastened.

               "i’m no expert on humans, but you look like you could use someone to talk to."

               You feel hazy again.

               And whether due to the drinks or the heat, you're not too certain of.

               But – right now – you're positive about one thing. 

               “U- Um…”

               As you wipe a tear off your cheek and burst out half a sob and half a laugh, you realize you really could use someone to talk to.

               “Thank you.”

[7nsomnia]

can i ask, what’s wrong with dcc? i always hear that they kinda suck as a company, but from the vlogs i’ve seen, they’re one of the better companies. i’m not really as into dreamcatcher as some of the blogs on here even though i consider myself a stan, so i might not have the right information

okay. I feel like this is like opening my personal pandora box so this might be long. I'm pretty tired today so apologies in advance if this isn't very coherent asdkjh

dcc are a pretty decent company on a surface level, they treat the members well (which should be like the bare minimum for any company but I know that in this industry that's something to genuinely praise) and they actually change according/respond to negative feedback from the fandom etc when they or the members mess up (or they used to anyway).

for me it started in 2020 and how they handled handong's return. like the way they handled her absence was fine (good even, I would say), but the lack of hype for her actual return made things feel so underwhelming even though it was supposed to feel like a relief that she was finally back. I can't remember all the details anymore, but I do remember that the first time I felt like things were actually alright with dc was when they did the online concert crossroads in march of 2021. on that note I think most ppl were expecting ttol and dlm to be repackaged with ot7 versions and yet it's 2024 and they still haven't released them.

the handong stuff atp is water under the bridge tho, the group is fine, the members are fine, etc, I'm only mentioning it because that's when things started to feel really off for me.

so now we get into the actual things that happened that have left the fandom feeling burned out/frustrated/disconnected etc etc, whereas this happened to me at the end of 2022, I'm seeing more people now going through what I did back then:

I think the most pressing thing was that dcc didn't capitalize at all on dc's first win. they got their first win in april 2022 and didn't even do anything special in korea to commemorate it. it was a HUGE moment and they did nothing with it. usually after a group gets a first win you'll see them getting more promotions in korea, magazine photoshoots, mc deals, etc but dc just went on ahead to do festivals in europe and have a usa tour, these things are not bad but it was the lack of promotion in korea that in turn just made it all feel useless. that year dc also weren't invited to any end of year awards if I'm not mistaken so it all felt really disappointing and like all of the work we had as a fandom had been for nothing. I have to reiterate, dc/insomnias had been getting screwed over on music shows since 2019 with deja vu to get that first win, like I don't want to talk about the injustices the group and this fandom suffered through the years but it was a true story of resilience, so getting that first win in 2022 was a huge relief. to see it all going to waste was just... heartbreaking honestly.

when it comes to tours...... god I don't wanna get too much into it, but 4 tours in the usa in the span of 2 years is not normal. specially when they're prioritizing that over having a proper asia tour and the likes (AND promoting in korea??). latam tour is practically sold out rn and they're getting no merch or m&g benefits like the usa tour. I don't think doing exclusive things for a specific tour is bad per say, but you have to treat all your fans semi equally at least, specially for a group whose fanbase is majorly international (this will be important later), or it will happen what is happening rn which is ppl will leave the fandom. This is the first latam tour since 2019 (2017 for brazil!)... they've waited a really long time so personally (even tho this doesn't affect me bc I'm european) I feel like it's really disrespectful but wtv, onto other things.

now, speaking of the fanbase being majorly international, if this is the case, you'd think the company would make an effort to stream important events to their fans, like hmm the 7th anniversary concert perhaps? but nop, that didn't get streamed. a repetition of the dumbassery they did in 2022 where they split the concert and the members' solos in 2 days and only streamed one and so intl fans couldn't watch half the solo stages? and don't get me wrong, I think it's important that they have events that are korea only like they have the fansigns etc, but something as major as their 7th anniversary? when they've gotten here thanks to their international fans? that stings a little.

and lastly (maybe), we have dcc's usual lack of promotion during comebacks. fans always paying for ads, intl fans always doing the most for digitals even when it's Not their place (because this is smth that the korean fandom and dcc should be responsible for), fans having to reach out for vendors etc... Justice cb truly has been the culmination of the very worst promotions dcc has done tho and there have been some really bad promotions before... no radio shows, minimum interviews, barely any variety... were there even any ads? usually it's always fans paying out of pocket for ads. it just feels like throwing the members' and the company's work out the window for no good reason? Virtuous is one of their best albums and yet it feels like they just dumped it to go on tour again. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing btw, having short promotions in korea is fine but like... promote for real? give your fandom content that they can watch and rewatch for however long it takes your group to have another cb? specially now that it seems that they're shifting to one album per year (not sure this is their wisest decision tho all things considered), you have to make sure that you promote that album properly? which kinda also goes with like, giving your fandom enough time to save for what you release and put out, specially if you're not trying to grow the fandom anymore. if they're dropping an album then don't announce a tour on top of that, and if they're announcing a tour then don't announce a photobook on top of that, and if they've just released an album then wait longer than a month to announce a photobook, and if they've just dropped a photobook then wait a bit longer until announcing the re print of albums the fans have been begging you for 6 years to re print LOL bc all this does is frustrate fans who can't make that much money in such a short time and it's stupid. like. in 2018 I dropped like 200 euros for like their very first photobook BECAUSE I had time to save that amount from their you and I cb (may) to whenever it was announced (I think it was august), and that was the highest tier (so you could get it for much cheaper) and bc back then it was like. well they barely release anything other than albums, so it's fine (also shipping was sooooooo much cheaper I miss it everyday, ofc this is not their fault tho but anyways).

lastly actually, oh my god. that stupid ass app where fans pay a subscription to message the members privately? has been the fucking worst thing to happen to this fandom and the members imo. if fans weren't respecting their boundaries before, it's even worse now. but it's also like. yeah the members should be reinforcing those boundaries, and I get wanting to at least make a buck of those problematic type of fans but I just don't think it has been good for the members at all. I won't elaborate too much on this because it will genuinely piss me the hell off but bottom line: that app has been hell for everyone genuinely there is no bright side to it other than dcc makes money out of it. and there's better ways to make money :))))))))

anyway this is over 1k words atp and somehow I feel like this all just the tip of the iceberg and I probably have forgotten many things bc tbh in the past year I've just. been trying to make peace with it all and just accept things for what they are because dc have been really special to me for such a long time and I just don't want dcc's decisions to make me throw all of that away (like I almost did). I love their music, I love the members, and so I will continue to celebrate wtv right decisions dcc makes but I'm not going to pretend that they're a good company when it comes to business decisions bc they're really not

[strwberri-milk]

I realize it’s probably too late to be asking for this request, but I’ll give it a try anyway and at the very least I want to share this idea: may I request something with Kaeya and his S/O who caught a cold and thus was sick on valentines day? And they feel really guilty about having ‘ruined’ his plans for the day because they’re too dazed & feverish & drained to do anything but lay in bed & cough & drink hot water with lemon and honey? But Kaeya doesn’t care and just wants to make sure they’re getting rest and feeling okay and on the path to recovery?

This is totally not based on my own experience today of being sick since yesterday and wishing I had Kaeya to dote on me and love me, whatever would give you that impression?

Hello!! it's not exactly valentines day but at least we're still w/in feburary lolol hope you enjoy!!

When Kaeya came over to pick you up he wasn't expecting to almost have to break in, knocking hard on the door to get your attention. He was about to break it down when you finally appeared, looking a little worse for wear. It was clear to him what was happening and before you could even open your mouth he was ushering you back inside, closing the door behind him and leading you back to your room.

It looked like a mess - understandably so as you were rifling through to find things to make you comfy before collapsing back onto your bed. Your trashbin was overflowing with tissues and you had some medicine and thermoses on the bedside table to avoid leaving. Clearly, you were trying to overload the sickness in attempts to get better, unfortunately failing.

He immediately brings a cool hand to your forehead, laughing a little at the happy sigh you give him when he meets your heated face. Immediately, you grab his wrist and make him cup your cheek, leaning into his palm as you look up at him.

The look on your face is a little pitiful, he thinks to himself, knowing that you're absolutely adorable like this. He hasn't seen you this sick for a while, resisting the urge to give you a kiss.

"Kaeya," you whine, seeming near tears despite barely being able to breathe.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

He can't resist himself, ignoring your running nose and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I ruined your plans. Whatever it is you wanted us to do today - I got myself sick and now we can't go. I should have listened to you and worn that extra coat. Then I would be fine, and there wouldn't be any reason for you to waste your time here and we could do whatever you wanted. But now I'm just stuck here and you're already trying to take care of me."

Your eyes are brimming with unshed tears, shiny in the light and he gently thumbs them away, shaking his head as he shushes you softly. Your sniffles are especially pronounced, wiping your tears away with him.

"I'm not mad at you," he says quietly, sitting on your bed and resting your head on his lap.

"Sure, we were going to spend today together, but you're not feeling well. You barely seemed coherent the other day when I came to visit you and it already seems like you're getting better. If we really focus on getting you better then we can do everything today another day, okay?"

"But I ruined your plans," you reiterate, only getting shushed by him as he lays you back down on your pillow.

"We'll just do Valentine's Day Abridged, alright? Stay there, and don't let me catch you out of bed or else I'll have to arrest you," he teases mischievously, humming to himself as he leaves the room.

You want to follow after him, moving around a little bit to get yourself ready to leave when you see his head poke back in, narrowing his eye at you.

"I heard that. Stay there, and do not try and follow me. I'm just making you something you can get to stay down. You won't be getting any better if you're not eating anything."

The thing about Kaeya is that he's great at cooking. Until it's meant to be more functional. There's something that puts him on autopilot and makes him create the most nutritious meal without necessarily caring about the taste. He thinks this is a side effect of having to mass cook for so many knights when out on patrols and making sure everyone stays alive and healthy.

He brings it to you, well, sorta. You're half asleep and still mildly delirious, barely lifting your head when he walks in. However, once you realise he's really there you try to sit up, moving so fast that it makes your head spin.

He tuts his tongue at you, looking more like a mother hen with the stern expression and hand on his hip at you trying to get out of bed again. Quickly, he's at your side to serve you, spooning soup into your mouth.

"This tastes like...nothing," you say after a few bites.

"Does it? I think it tastes fine," he shrugs, continuing to feed you.

"Is it supposed to taste like hot water?" you tease again, happily taking every spoonful he gives you.

"Maybe it is! Hot water is good for you!" he retorts, hugging you close to him.

It takes a while but the two of you slowly work through the bowl of soup together. You can't deny feeling better afterward, unsure if it's because of him or the soup. Most likely a mixture of both.

"Hey Kaeya," you say again, getting his attention as he cleans up your room a bit.

"You sure you aren't mad at me?" you ask.

"How could I be mad? I got to spend all day with the love of my life."

He sounds so sure that it finally settles your nerves, shyly smiling to yourself as you fiddle with your blanket. You can tell he really is happy too, watching him flutter about your room like he belongs there. And you know he does.

[moonshine-nightlight]

Hi, I'm always very impressed by your world building skills, even in shorter stories! Do you have any advice for aspiring writers on how to build their fantasy world?

So i drafted a response to this in between working just far too much and then my computer crashed and i lost it. Then i was even busier so i never got around to writing it again but i am making some time this weekend, so worldbuilding post - take 2

My main, high level worldbuilding tips are:

Rule of Cool: worldbuild things you think are fun and interesting. not only is that the best way to get ideas you like and are motivated to write about, but other people will also think they're interesting too. have fun with it.

Iceberg theory: know more about the world than ever makes it into the story. people can sense when worldbuilding is shallow, so even if they never see the true depths of the world they can often sense it's there. plus if u know the whole picture, everything the readers do see will seem more coherent

Integration: i heavily integrate the world i'm building into the story i'm telling--so dig into the plot and characters and make sure that the world and the story serve each other well. your world is there to contribute to the story so make sure its fulfilling that purpose

For more specifics about how i personally world build and for some examples from my stories of the above guidelines, see below.

So firstly, i love worldbuilding. i just think its a ton of fun and could easily spend hours just thinking about worlds in my head. (i mean what else is there to do when ur commuting to work, amiright?) i think that does make it easier for me to take the time to do it right and makes the world come through more vividly in my writing. it can get annoying or tedious or be more challenging at times, but since i like it/find world building interesting, i'm more willing to put in the time and effort to whip it into shape and i get less frustrated with that part of the process in general.

i'm also always thinking about world building to some degree in the back of my mind. picking up interesting information, facts, snatches of cool ideas or images or whatever. then i throw all that in like a junk drawer in my brain so when i sit down to more officially write or flesh out a world, i already have spare parts at my finger tips to use or drawn on.

Reading and consuming other art and worlds also makes it easier to make your own, just lik reading is a key part of writing practice. i don't just mean fiction, but just anything about the actual world makes it much easier to make up your own--that can manifest as awe at the fireflies that actually exist or spite that dragons dont. Whether that's random youtube video essays about the history of musicals or drinks or fashion to books and articles and documentaries or just my friend's niche interests (or their regular jobs). i'm always taking worldbuilding notes in the back of my mind.

For a more writing specific example, i read this short guide '50 Ways to Kill a Mermaid' (its locked for AO3 so u hav to sign in to read it) and it was super fun and cool to read that info from a writer who had studied marine biology. then when i was fleshing out Don't Shoot the Messenger a year later, the problem of Satrasi being a sea demon in a fresh water pool and bloating came to my mind because i'd stored that tidbit from the article away for later use.

My personal method for worldbuilding and plot outlining is sort a brainstorming/Q&A i have with myself (i hope this makes sense when i'm done writing this all out lol).

I've mentioned this before but the prompt that inspired Dale was: "You’re pretty sure your boyfriend was replaced by an eldritch being that can barely emulate being human. Weirdly, you enjoy a better relationship with them than your actual boyfriend."

So when that idea grabbed me, i started brainstorming about the world and asking myself questions. Why is the reader with the boyfriend if they don't really like them? What would make someone stay in a relationship like that? Do i want to make this a dark story? And i did not, i wanted it to be fun, so the arranged marriage angle came to mind. And if that's the premise then when is the story? is this our 'past' or another world entirely? diff world means more freedom so i automatically leaned in that direction.

Can the reader tell the 'boyfriend' has been replaced? Are demons a thing people know about? does the reader know that's an option? which is more fun? if the reader is worried about Dale getting caught, that's more room for hijinks so then yes, demons are known, but not common otherwise too many people would notice.

So my plot and worldbuilding are evolving in tandem and informing each other, based on the type of story i want to tell and how the characters i have in mind will react etc.

i run through a lot of ideas and turn them over in my head--trying out diff pieces to see if they fit--and am always willing to drop an idea or save it for another story if i don't think its working for the current one

For iceberg theory, i mentioned above for Dale would be the religions in that world. When i decided to introduce a priest like character (for discovery danger) i knew i needed to focus more on the religions than i previously had noted. the majority of what i came up with isn't int he story, but i think the fact that i know it helps me write when did end up in there, helped make it consistent, and means i can more easily work in allusions to it without having to work so hard those singular times.

For example, i'd decided to call the demon realm "the Depths" early on, which to me already invokes deep water and darkness, so i followed that through to sort height and air and light as being perceived more positively. fire and light are important symbols in this world and they primarily burn their dead--to bury someone below ground would be seen as almost condemning them and someone drowning is also seen as like, not good for their soul because what if it is 'pulled down' rather than 'ascending'. some of this was alluded to in the chapter, but most of it is not. this also helped me come up with the various "by the light" "dawn's ire" and other similar little 'religious' phrases and exclamations different characters use at times.

Meanwhile, in Sacrifice, the people living their are relatively non-religious--thats why they both don't pray to any other deities and it takes 5 years of problems to even bother trying an old god. it's not sacrilege because they're desperate people trying a long shot, not violating or abandoning a different belief. because i wanted the reader's main problem with it all to just be that they didn't think it work.

And why is she a translator? because i wanted to use the idea from that one post that goes around about how ridiculous it is in movies when their translated prophecies rhyme in english. why are they arguing about the translation? because its a dead language so no one really speaks it, that means the people who came up with it were here a century ago or longer. why aren't they here anymore? nomadic so they left and ended up staying away because of a natural disaster elsewhere. why is this town here now? a particular export/resource in this area became valuable enough for people to try to live here. the fact that its a lumber town due to some rare wood native to the area doesn't come up in the story, but i know it and i think that i know that about the town helps it feel more real, makes it easier for me to reach for new details when i need them

and going back to anything can be inspiration, let's talk about the doorlock in the very beginning of Finally Woken. its literally just a magical keypad/number pad but with different colored tiles instead of numbers because i wanted the reader to be able to get in, but i felt it didnt make sense for them to hav a physical key. and i thought it would look cool in Heshi's door and it went well with the fact that he's a glassblower . also, why is Heshi a glassblower? because i frickin' lov blown glass - i just think its so cool and pretty. that helped lead into the sort of artisan economy feel that world has.

Each of these stories has an outline and notes doc at a minimum. the notes doc is where i throw lik pics, inspiration posts, random worldbuilding ideas etc. only much shorter stories or stories that are heavily based in 'modern' world don't hav extensive random notes.

my Dale folder has subfolders for characters and the setting, as well as random worldbuilding files such as "demon summoning/magic" "spiritual belief and org" "fashion - feminine" and so on. Even excluding the plot outline and chapter notes (and not counting pics) i've got like, over 4k of random notes saved. dale is the one i hav the most of that for, but all my fics have some little section with stuff like that jotted down

in the end, i think the best way to sum up all that is with my three original rules of: put stuff u think is cool in your world, known more than you tell to help everything fit together and seem deep, and build your world around your plot and characters because they should all be working together to tell the story you want to tell.

honestly, i could ramble about worldbuilding all day so if anyone has any questions or wants more examples, just let me know ^^

[fieldofdaisiies]

gwyn x balthazar | 2,9k words | warnings: slight NSFW content| masterlist

Gwyn's head lolls to the side, a giggle parting her lips. "Hey," she mumbles, every hair on her body standing on end, chills breaking out and wetness once again gathering between her thighs. His touch, the feel of his lips on her skin, are already so stimulating. 

"Hey," Balthazar whispers, voice breathy as his tongue flicks against her clit. A low growl rumbles through him. Just like the previous day he devours and worships his priestess, making her tumble over the edge with ease that only the males in the books she read possessed. 

But neither of them is sated after the first round this morning. 

Her hips fall open, a silent invitation for more that Balthazar happily accepts. He lines the tip of his cock up with her entrance and then grins, eyes not once leaving hers. "Your are so beautiful."

"And all yours." Gwyn lifts her hips, making him slide into her. His head falls back, eyes closing, because this feeling…he has never felt anything like that before. 

The young Illyrian thrusts into the priestess a few time, hips perfectly meeting hers every time. His hand clasps her breast, his lips trail over the exposed column of her neck until he pulls the lobe of her ear between his teeth. "Nothing has ever felt like you, Gwyneth. You are everything to me." 

It is not long after that Balthazar gathers her into his arms, sits back on his heels and lets her bounce on his hips. 

"Ride me, my little water-nymph." His voice is breathless, the command in it yet crystal clear. 

Gwyn adjusts herself a little, legs around him, hands on his broad shoulders, his hands grabbing her butt, helping her ride him. 

A low moan leaves Gwyn, her mind already entering a state of pure satisfaction. He is right — nothing feels like him. Nothing feels like this. Balthazar is everything and he is hers. And he makes her feel alive. She can breathe. Finally she can breathe and live and laugh and enjoy all the pleasures life has to offer. 

Her breasts, the sensitive peaks, brush against his chest, the fine dusting of hair in his skin oddly stimulating. She pushes harder against him, wanting to feel him everywhere. Each roll of her hips is met with one of his thrusts.

And then his majestic wings flare behind his back, revealing the thin membrane with the small veins trailing up and down the inside. 

Gwyn's attention is momentarily stolen by them, but soon returns to her lover's mouth, the words leaving him. 

"Wings—Fuck!" Balthazar throws his head back, twitching inside of her. "Touch my wings."

Gwyn is breathless, visions clouded by desire. She meets his lips in an open-mouthed kiss. "Where?" 

"The vein leading up to the talon." Balthazar can barely form a coherent sentence, his thoughts are all over the place, but he needs her to do this. Wants her to be the only female to ever touch his wings. Gwyn complies, her own desire to touch his most precious possession — his wings— so strong. 

At first she softly brushes her fingers over the thin membrane, then a little harder, until she is rubbing her fingers over it. Balthazar's growl reverberates through Gwyn and fuels some deep primal part of her that makes her see stars. She is close, release already gathering in her lower abdomen. 

They Illyrian keeps her on top of him the whole time, even when he shifts to lie back down on the bed, guiding her with him. 

Gwyn's nails dig into his chest, knuckles turning white from how tight she holds on when she comes with a cry, limps spasming when he lets her ride out her hight, following her just a moment later with a shout and a groan. "Fucking luckiest male alive," he breaths when he simultaneously folds Gwyn into his strong arm, making her lie down on his chest and brings a hand up to wipe his palm over his forehead. 

"I've hardly ever felt as safe as I feel with you." Gwyn kisses his chest. "When I am with you, I feel like I can conquer the whole world. I know you are keeping me safe, protected, alive. All my worries, my fears vanish into nothingness when you hold my hand, when you look into my eyes." 

A single salty tear falls onto Balthazar's damp skin, and he pulls the blanket over the two of them. 

"I feel like no one can ever harm me again. That whenever I feel alone, I am not alone. I know I have you. I know you are here when I need you, when I need someone to hold me."

Balthazar kisses the top of her head. He does not say anything, lets her speak. 

"I was so scared of…" Gwyn's throat constricts, drying out. She shudders but she does not let the memories take control of her happiness once again. She has grown. She is stronger now. She is in Balthazar's arms and she is safe. 

"I was so scared of males and that fear is not fully gone, I am still wary of males, but with you by my side I know I no longer have to be afraid. I no longer have to live in fear. I can enjoy and experience things now."

Tipping her head back she meets his gaze. Balthazar has been looking at her the whole time. 

"You never have to be afraid again." He holds her gaze. "But not because I am in your life. You are so strong, stronger than you think. And you are very capable of protecting yourself. No male will ever harm you again, but that not only because of me. Because you possess strength you don't know about. You are incredible." He kisses the top of her head again. "But that does not mean that I will ever leave your side. I will always be there for you, keep you safe, protected, warm."

He smiles, eyes full of warmth and affection. "And with you in my life, I feel just as empowered as you. I know that I can do it, becoming a camp lord and everything."

Gwyn rolls over, so she can place her hands on his chest, her chin resting on top of them. 

"Of course, because I have Corrian and Thena and Emerie, as my advisors." He smiles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "But also because I have you. I know you are here for me, support me with my ideas and also tell me when I am talking…complete bullshit." 

Gwyn's grin mirrors Balthazar's. "You are my smart little River-nymph and your opinion matters to me more than anyone else's."

"Balthazar." Gwyn blushes. "You and your words…."

He chuckles, the sound rich and deep, his chest rumbling. "What about them?"

"They make me feel things and get me all flustered."

Purely male pride washes over his face. "Good." His hand slides down beneath the bed sheet and he gently slaps Gwyn's backside, waiting for her reaction, not wanting to cross a line where she might not feel comfortable anymore. But the only thing flashing in her eyes is desire and she pulls her lower lip between her teeth. So, Balthazar squeezes her backside and grins. "And sometimes my words make you quite wet." He himself has to laugh at that. 

"You really do have a dirty mouth." Gwyn pushes up onto her hands and kisses his lips. "And I love it so much."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Balthazar pecks Gwyn's lips. "You are distracting me, Gwyneth." He smiles amusedly and gives his head a little shake. 

Gwyn veils her face in innocence, pouting her lips a little. "I would never," she dramatically expresses and folds a hand over her heart. And yet she rolls her hips the slightest bit, feeling the hard ridge of his arousal press into her. 

"Of course not," Balthazar mumbles and looks over her shoulder, at the paper he was currently scanning over and trying to fill out. "I need to write this down, my love."

Gwyn leans back, eyes widened a little, blocking his vision. "My love?" She grins, from one ear to the other. "I like that. I love that!" 

Her lips find his in a quick, but nevertheless deep kiss, arms wrapping around his neck when she hugs him afterwards. "And in addition…you could write on me." She presses a small kiss to his neck. "With your lips. And your tongue."

Not much writing is done in the moments, or hours after. Their bodies come together on the desk at first, then on the chair and even on the slightly dusty ground. The need and desire within their bodies enhanced by the bond that connects their souls is just too strong, too overwhelming, to not give in to it. They continue until they are partly sated, and some actual work is getting done. Balthazar wants to prepare some papers for Gwyn to bring along to Velaris. He has been a bit distracted lately, and so he hasn't done much work and that needs to be fixed and finished now. 

Gwyn is helping him, of course she is, sorting through documents, bringing them into an alphabetical order just like she does with the books in the library. From time to time, Balthazar finds himself distracted and can only admire her, the determined expression on her face, concentration shining in her eyes. She is is nibbling on her lower lip, fingers trailing over words and phrases Balthazar cannot make out written on the paper. Balthazar marvels at her beauty once again. Her beautiful teal eyes, like sunshine dancing on the ocean, her hair like spun copper, and the dusting of freckles all over her face. She is so beautiful, and she is truly his. 

Gwyn inhales deeply, lifts her head and finds Balthazar looking at her. She doesn't know what it is, but something in the way he looks at her makes her cheeks fill with warmth and colour and she smiles. "I thought we were working?"

"I am trying to, but a lovely River-nymph decided to come into my office…and she is now distracting me greatly." He can only grin. 

"I am trying to help you," Gwyn answers and fakes a pout, yet soon her own mouth turns into a smile. 

"Devlon truly noted down everything, huh?" She lifts the piece of parchment, waving it through the air before handing it to Balthazar. Written in faded ink are food rations of centuries ago. He wasn't alive back then — it was probably when Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel were young. Or even before that. 

Balthazar huffs. "I hope I can manage to run this camp like he did." He tosses the parchment away and leans back in the chair, hands crossed behind his neck, gaze directed towards the ceiling. Doubt still comes in waves, worries flowing along in the stream of uncertainty. It has all become less, mostly thanks to Gwyn, his sister and his best friend, but these thoughts still haven't vanished completely. 

"Did you like Devlon?" Gwyn gets up from her stool so she can stand in front of Balthazar. Her eyes trail over his whole body, trying to see if his body language gives him away. He sits in a sprawl, his strong thighs so inviting to sit down on top of them, but now it does not feel right in this moment. They are having a serious conversation, and she wants Balthazar to be very honest with her, and also answer the questions she is about to ask, and already did honestly. 

It is something he has to reflect on. For himself. 

Balthazar shrugs, not really knowing what to say. "I think I liked him."

Gwyn braces a hand on the table and raises a brow. "Did you really?"

Slowly, Balthazar nods, but his eyes and his demeanour give him away. He lowers his arms and braces his hands on his thighs, gaze not once leaving Gwyn. A flicker of doubt passes over his face.

"What did you think of Devlon? Do you think he was a good camp lord? Was he a good person? Or was he simply a good camp lord?"

That truly makes Balthazar ponder. He has never, not once, thought about it that way. He liked Devlon, looked up to him, but maybe he just liked his role as a leader, because he was a good leader. But was he a good person?

"He allowed wings to be clipped, didn't he?" Gwyn pushes, wanting to challenge Balthazar's thoughts a little. She is tenacious and she won't let go now. 

He shakes his head. "No, no, he did not." Balthazar swallows. 

"He was fair, and just. But he wasn't a good male. He saw women as beings meant to be servants and he did not let them train."

Gwyn nods. "You don't want to be like someone like that. You don't want to run the camp like him."

"You don't understand, Gwyneth." Balthazar leans forward, wanting to reach for Gwyn's hand but she moves it away and it sends a pang of hurt through Balthazar. "I did not mean it like that. I—"

"I know how you meant it, Balthazar." Gwyn's lips are pressed in a thin line and she takes a step closer to him. "You feel like you have to prove yourself amongst the Illyrian brutes up here. But you are no brute, you are good in your soul and heart and you are exactly what this camp needs. You will bring change, a revolution, and you will make this camp stronger than any other camp." 

She moves to stand between his thighs, hands braced on his shoulders. "You don't have to be like him to be great. You already are. And I know you doubt yourself, and this is very natural, but I know you can do this. And deep inside your heart, you know this too."

Bending down, Gwyn leans her forehead against Balthazar's. "I believe in you. Your sister does. Your best friend does. Rhysand does. Cassian. Azriel. Nesta. Emerie. We all do."

She wraps her arms around the Illyrian's shoulders and kisses the top of his head. "This camp will flourish and become the best place all the Illyrians can only hope for."

Balthazar squeezes Gwyn to him and sighs. "Once more I come to the realisation that I truly don't deserve you in my life." He kisses her cleavage and then tips his head back to look at her. 

"Thank you. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for challenging my thoughts. Thank you for all of it."

Gwyn cradles his face in her hands. "You never have to thank me for speaking the truth. But I truly believe that…you came into my life for a reason. I came into yours for a reason."

Balthazar nods, his eyes glazing. He searches her gaze. "You saved my life back then, Gwyneth. And you are still doing so, making me feel alive and good."

A tear slips out of the corner of Gwyn's eye and lands on Balthazar's face. She draws in a deep inhale, exhales and then parts her lips. "I know you keep saying that I saved you, that I was your saviour, but you are my salvation, Balthazar."

The lips meet in a teary, but passionate kiss full of hurt and love. Both their tears wet the other's tears, their lips don't part for a long time, both of them pouring every emotion and every ounce of love they feel for the other into the kiss. 

It is Mor who knocks on the door that makes them part and signals Gwyn that it is time to leave. Obviously not immediately, they still have time to say goodbye. 

"Do you really have to leave already?" Balthazar's arms wrap tighter around Gwyn and she leans down to kiss him again. "I do, I need to join the other priestesses again and you have a lot of work to do here." She kisses him again and Balthazar lets one hand slide lower, cupping her butt for a small moment. 

"But how do deal with not being with you? Alone, at night?" He raises a brow, mischief obvious in his sparkling eyes. 

"Maybe you can use your imagination…and your hand." Gwyn grins and is not at all prepared for the tall male to stand up and lift her into the desk behind her, spreading her legs so he can move in closer, kiss her deeper, his hands on her face, tongue meeting hers with every stroke, teeth clashing. "It won't feel anything like you." He nips at her jaw. "I already told you, nothing feels like you."

Parting hurts, but after many more kisses, I love yous and good byes, Gwyn truly closes the door behind her, taking one last look at Balthazar who is waving at her through the window. Then the cool air wraps around her. But she is not alone. Mor is already waiting for her, ready to winnow her back to Velaris. In all honesty, Gwyn does not know if Mor was with Emerie, or for how long she had been here, but she knows that she will question her now, on their way home, her heart already swelling with happiness about Emerie's and Mor's no longer so secret relationship. 

tag list: @a-frog-with-a-laptop @brekkershadowsinger @moonlightazriel @callmeblaire @headcanonheadcase @waternymphia @autumndreaming7 @devilsfoodcake22 @readercacau @sv0430 @bubybubsters @cyntia-ktn

[luminitewrites]

Domesticity

Heard there was talk about Eclipse having a working mouth and thought, yeah, I'll jump on that bandwagon.

This is based on this ask, and I am gleefully leaning into that "domestic" part here. Eclipse can be a little tamed, as a treat. No rhyme or reason to this drabble, but it's set in a very impossible AU of @naffeclipse's Sleuth Jesters wherein somehow, the vigilante chooses to join the mob boss, and they enter a relationship.

Rating: T Word Count: ~4K Content Warnings: Nudity, bruises, biting, heavy makeouts, and suggestive themes.

The suggestive content does toe the line here, but I believe I've kept it safe enough that the reader can interpret it to their preference. If anyone feels that this needs additional warnings, feel free to let me know.

Enjoy!

~~~

Quiet days are uncommon for you. There is always something to do, something—or someone—that needs attention, and the hours have a tendency to just slip by. Before you know it, the day has ended and the night has fallen and there’s little free time to do much of anything for yourself.

But when you wake up one morning to the warm sunlight streaming across the bed, you stretch underneath its warmth and the silk sheets resting over you like a sleepy cat soaking in the rays. Opening your eyes seems too arduous of a task, so you opt to keep them closed against the orange glow shining through your eyelids and try to think of what tasks await you today. Your thoughts move sluggishly, slipping through your fingers like sand. You might doze off once or twice in the middle of trying to catch a single coherent thought.

When you do start to awaken, it’s to an idle sensation rubbing against your knuckles. Explorative and curious. You crack open your eyes just a bit against the brilliant sunshine and find that your left hand has been taken captive by a much larger, metal one. Your palm is loosely pressed against the other’s, and a thumb is smoothly gliding over your fingers. It lingers mainly on your ring finger, sweeping up and down the rest, then returning before repeating the cycle.

How abnormally gentle. Eclipse is rarely like this, unless you are asleep, and even then, you sometimes wake in the morning to fresh bruises painted somewhere on your skin. This softer side of him is one that you fail to see often, but you hoard it like a treasure. You’re the only person he trusts to be with like this.

So either he’s in a good mood, or he’s quietly contemplating murder. Of course, the latter also has the possibility of putting him in a good mood, so it’s hard to guess what he’s thinking in these special moments.

You consider testing the waters and seeing just how far you can push your luck today. Granted, you do that every day regardless, but it’s become a bit of a game for you, and you do enjoy seeing him heated. You always end up paying for it later in some way or other, but that’s just part of the game, and he hasn’t killed you for it—yet.

A smile creases your lips, but before you can put your cute wit to good use, his rumbling voice comes from behind you.

“Your hand is looking a little bare,” he says.

His chest is flush at your back, both his and your shirts lost to the floor last night—though your silk pajama bottoms snag against the fabric of his pants when you shift your legs—so you can feel the sonorous velvet of his words like they are vibrating against your spine. You still haven’t quite pinpointed where his voicebox is, but you’re certain it’s located in his chassis because he has no issue listening to himself talk even during moments when your mouth is sealed atop his. One of these days, you’re going to figure out how you can snatch his voice even if it’s just for a second. Anything to make him “still his tongue,” or whatever it is he says when he manages to do the same to you.

You frown in confusion. “I always take off any jewelry before bed. And as much as I appreciate the offer, I really don’t think I have enough room on my fingers to fit any more gold rings.”

“You could make space for one more,” he murmurs, and his faceplate nudges your skull. He taps your ring finger. “Right here.”

Muddied confusion causes you to stare at the appendage, bewildered.

And then it hits you.

Oh. Oh, that’s a very sudden thing to yank you out of your morning sleepiness. Your heart is suddenly in your throat, going a mile a minute.

You don’t like surprises too much. They tend to lead to nasty consequences and seldom have any good benefits. It’s much preferable to know what’s coming your way so you can brace yourself and prepare for it. You like being two steps ahead and spinning things in your favor.

But this time, you’re not sure. You hadn’t seen this coming at all, and your brain shuts down in an instant. He can’t be serious… can he? That seems like such a human custom he wouldn’t care about at all. You would have never thought he’d be the type to even consider it, and the bombshell sets you in a total state of shock.

The problem is you don’t even know if it’s the welcome kind or not. You’re completely stunned.

Eclipse didn’t ask a question, but letting the silence seep in feels like a denial on your end, which isn’t the impression you want to give off. Not initially, that is. You’re certain he’s not even really intending to ask for your approval at all, more so just stating a fact, informing you of his plans. But just to be sure of what he’s suggesting, you ignore the rush of blood in your ears and opt for a more lighthearted route.

“Is this your way of proposing?”

Your hand is released, but it’s fast exchanged for a solid clutch of your sides. Eclipse calmly lifts and places you on top of him so that you are now chest to chest, the blankets falling down your back and exposing your skin to the slightly chilled air.

If it wasn’t before, your face is definitely warm now.

“I don’t need to propose,” he says matter-of-factly. “You’re already mine, pet.”

The familiar statement helps to instill a bit more levelheadedness. In no way are you past your rattled-to-the-soul mindset, but Eclipse’s ceaseless possessiveness is a landmark you can always count on finding. It helps to ground you, reassure your galloping pulse. Though it’s something you once ran from, you know now you can always trust his desire. Nothing will ever take that from him, for better or worse.

You make a contemplative noise in your throat. One of your fingers finds the shallow crevice in the middle of his chassis where metal parts from metal. You follow the line slowly up, and regardless of how you’re sure he can tell just how on edge you are, you smile at the dark anticipation that crosses Eclipse’s faceplate. His hands pull your skin taut as they dig into your waist, and you can feel the fresh bruises layering on top of the recently healed ones.

“That doesn’t have quite the nicest ring to it,” you say after a quiet moment of consideration, smiling to yourself at the unintentional pun.

Unfortunately, your offhand comment isn’t received well.

“What doesn’t?” Eclipse’s tone stays mild, but you feel the warning in the escalating strength of his grasp.

“Easy, angel eyes, I’m just thinking out loud,” you attempt to teasingly soothe, but you utter a soft gasp when the barest hint of claws threatens to break skin.

“Then why don’t you share with me what that thought is instead of dodging the question?” he drawls. His teeth could be mistaken for daggers in this light.

Ignoring the flaming pain that could crush your bones, you release a heavy sigh, wavering at the end as Eclipse doesn’t let go but at least stops increasing the pressure. One of these days, he’s going to snap your pelvis, and then you’ll see who’s really sorry.

It will probably be you, but you’d like to think it would at least throw a temporary wrench in Eclipse’s plans to treat your body like a canvas to bruise. 

“I was talking about you calling me ‘pet,’ not you proposing,” you tut and swat his shoulder. The hit doesn’t hurt him in the slightest, but it’s the action that matters. You ignore his bemused grin as you discretely shake the pain out of your knuckles for doing that.

Finally, your waist is released from the vice clasping it, and his hands slip down to your thighs instead. He cups them and tugs them wider, and you move to straddle him instead, reading his want to have you as close as possible in a heartbeat. You keep your upper half reclined, however, and fold an arm under your chin as you continue to trace the divots of his body. A hissing exhale from underneath you lets you know he’s pleased. Crisis averted.

“What’s wrong with that term of endearment, pet?”

“Oh, nothing,” you innocently say in a way that isn’t innocent at all. You snicker at the narrowed, yellow gaze that waits impatiently for an explanation. There is satisfaction in knowing that Eclipse would put up with such behavior from no one else, and even still, he only just tolerates it from you. Walking that thin line has become a favorite pastime of yours, and you know that he knows it too.

His hands drag up over the back of your thighs, sharp claws grazing your thinly clad skin as the silk bottoms do little to hinder the feeling, which makes you erupt in goosebumps. He then takes his time drawing over the bruises he just left on your waist, watching as you fail to suppress a shudder, and were it not for the pillows he’s lying against, you’re certain his numerous sun rays would be whirling fast. As it is, Eclipse keeps his touch light, a rarity to your body that is so accustomed to fierce possessiveness. The thin, sweeping lines he runs over your spine and the back of your ribs have you swallowing thickly and trying to keep your breathing normal.

The distracting touch comes to a stop just under your shoulder blades. The mob boss considers your reaction and chuckles.

“Nothing?” he echoes, smarmy. “Are you sure about that?”

Unhappy about how easily he’s learned to fluster you, you pout and flick one of his rays. The dull ting beckons you to play with it instead, and you tap tap tap your nails atop the surface. The mental image of a woodpecker hammering away gives you dry amusement.

Eclipse endures it for all of three seconds before reaching up and putting a stop to your playfulness. Your affront is countered by his layered annoyance. Stubbornness can take you only so far, and as he begins to exert force in his grip, you try to outlast him by hiding the pain behind a scowl. With pursed lips, you hold your ground for an embarrassingly short span of time before you wince, your bones begging for reprieve.

Your loss means his victory, even over something so trivial, and he slackens his hold but doesn’t let go. Eclipse says your name. The edge of a growl ripples through it.

At his prodding, you sigh exasperatedly and relent. “No. I just have a better endearment in mind than you referring to me as your pet.”

Yellow flirts with darkness as black as the night. “And what would that be?”

“Well,” you begin, the word curling your tongue as you draw it out, “I just think that it would be nicer if you made it a little more official. Classy. Something refined like maybe ‘my partner’ or ‘my spouse’ or…”

You stop. Eclipse is silent. You can’t quite figure out what he’s thinking, and his expression is one you’re unfamiliar with. But you’re certain you’ve never seen his pupils so large before. Round to the point that they hardly even look like rings anymore. You don’t know what to make of it, and uncertainty halts your voice.

That seems to be the opposite of what he wants though. His whole body is still, but his eyes pierce you with a deep emotion, and you hesitantly lean closer.

“Or?” he prompts, just a whisper.

You study him. Something traps you in the moment that’s not directly caused by his hands on you. It comes from somewhere in your chest, a swell of a feeling close to intoxicating but with all the presence of being sober. You’re just as frozen as he is, and your heart beats madly like you’re in a race. You couldn’t look away from him if you wanted to.

It’s the very last thing you want.

As someone who seldom holds back their words, you have an unusual difficulty finding your voice again. And even when you do reunite with it, it comes out quiet, words just as whisper-soft as his had been.

“Or what about… ‘my lover?’”

You say it so faintly, you almost don’t hear it yourself. Even suggesting it sounds silly to your own ears, regardless of whether it had been sincere. Though you’re not positive you’re just teasing anymore. Deflection has always come naturally to you. You rely on it so much, it’s become difficult to tell when you mean what you say. 

Your brow furrows, and a low-grade horror trickles in. What should have been a joke feels closer to honesty than you’d meant. And you hadn’t even known you’d felt that way. Not until you’d suggested it.

Mortified doesn’t even aptly define what’s possessing you. Your eyes become saucers, and Eclipse, to your shock, looks just as gobsmacked as you. 

Thoughts of bolting, tearing out of the room like the devil himself is on your heels, briefly flit through the possibilities hurtling in your head. But your limbs are like chunks of ice, and you cannot twitch a single muscle as Eclipse moves first. He lifts a hand, pausing for a millisecond before he continues. So gently you don’t dare breathe, he brushes aside a strand of hair. It’s tucked securely behind your ear, and then that hand curves down it, circling back to your cheek. His broad palm covers it and then some, and his thumb glides across your parted lips.

Through all of this, he doesn’t look away. His eyes are for you only, so bright that they rival the morning sun. With his thumb against your mouth, he can undoubtedly feel your quick breaths brushing it. Like you could even hope to hide your unsteady heartbeat from him anyways. He could probably tell just from looking at you.

His silence offers nothing. You don’t know what to do, if you should say something to fill it. Your words are already out there, and no wishing you’d choked them back down will change what’s been said. Maybe that’s for the best.

Swallowing around the knot in your throat, you force out a deeper breath. If he won’t say something, you’ll just do damage control and ask for forgiveness later.

“Eclipse—”

“Those all have something in common,” he abruptly says, quelling whatever attempt to resolve this you were going to make. Your next inhale hitches, and his eyes briefly fall lower.

You wait with bated breath.

His thumb hasn’t stopped tracing your lips, and you realize that’s where his gaze has drifted. You resist the very strong, sudden urge to wet them.

His other hand still has your own. Almost absentmindedly, he squeezes, but it’s tender. A quick pulse. He can probably feel your heartbeat in your fingertips too.

You want to ask what he means, but speech is becoming progressively harder the longer this unexplained feeling builds. Another shiver presses you further into him. The one thing keeping you afloat is seeing just how affected Eclipse is as well.

Maybe it’s because you say nothing or he was going to tell you anyways. But when he looks back at you once more, the glimmer of voracious hunger is one you spot straight away. His fingers squeeze the back of your scalp and urge you to come so close that your lips hover over his wide grin.

“They all say that you are mine,” he breathes.

He crushes you to his mouth, and you tip right into it. All air is sucked out of your chest, lost as he kisses you with the desperation of one drowning, needing to consume you whole. A muted noise crawls from your throat, verging on something humiliating, and it’s responded to by a vicious snarl from him.

Your world careens to the side as you’re suddenly thrown off him, landing on your back on the bed, and he’s right there above you, chasing your lips again as he braces himself over your prone body. You manage a gasp before you’re lost to the overwhelming ardor and the adulation in his wandering hands. They keep you close and ignite a potent fire that will set you ablaze the longer you indulge in his dark desire. 

Eclipse sweeps one hand under your bare back, arching you into him while he pins you down. His other slides into your hair, scratching deliciously along your scalp, and your hair is wound tightly around his fingers. With one rough yank, your head is pulled back. A breathless gasp tumbles out, chased swiftly by his teeth finding your exposed neck.

In a move you are still not at all used to and likely never will be if he has any say in it, Eclipse parts his sharp grin and brushes his teeth against your skin. With cautious, deliberate force, he bites the sensitive juncture between your neck and collarbone. The careful shock of pain brings forth a heady groan from deep in your chest, and Eclipse clearly relishes it, based on the guttural sound he buries in your throat in return. Before you can have a second to recover, the hot compress of his own tongue laves over the bite mark he just left, and your fists twist in the sheets beneath you.

You wonder if the rest of your day is about to be stolen—a fact you won’t particularly complain about anytime soon—but even though the mob boss shifts a little down to lay a kiss in the middle of your chest, he doesn’t take it further than that. The resonance of husky laughter reaches all the way to your sternum and around your rib cage. When he lifts his faceplate to look at your flushed face, he doesn’t bother to keep his lower sun rays from scraping your skin, and they poke into you in stinging pinpricks. He relaxes the tension on your hair and brings the hand at your back to your throat and the freshly burning mark. 

Your chest is as hot as your cheeks and straining with every uneven breath. Eclipse’s optics remind you of firelight and pools of liquid gold with a center of onyx in each. They watch you as if he is committing to memory every little twitch, every shuddering reaction while he waits for you to find air. You have your games you like to play with him. This is his. Winding you up and then letting you spin out of control until he repeats the process, again and again.

Safe to say he’s cleared your schedule until late afternoon, at the bare minimum.

At the rumble of another low chuckle, you quizzically lift a brow, panting. “What?”

Eclipse embodies the cat that caught the canary. In a somewhat courteous act, he lifts his head just enough so that his rays are no longer digging into your skin, and they immediately spin in a blurred display of his satisfaction. You’re sure he’d be purring now if he could.

“Oh, nothing,” he says, throwing your own mocking words from before back at you.

You roll your eyes, and he snickers again. The hand in your hair begins to knead your scalp, and you try to hold very still to make sure he doesn’t stop. He has an annoying habit of dangling anything you like just out of reach the moment you try to lean into it. But even still, you bend one of your legs and knock your knee against his side.

“I’ve got no problem throwing you out of my bed,” you threaten menacingly.

Your attempts to intimidate don’t faze him even the smallest amount.

“Our bed,” he haughtily corrects, and his hand at your throat curls on the edge of too tight. Waiting for your response, he pauses to see if you’ll fire back another snarky remark.

You blow out a puff of air, nose wrinkling to show him just what you think, but you stay quiet. The hand on your throat loosens once more.

Chuffed, he continues. “I suppose I had better find a suitable ring to make sure everyone knows that you are mine.”

You can’t resist a bark of laughter. “Oh, angel eyes, if you think that’s what’s going to clue everyone in at this point, then you have not been doing a good enough job lately.”

Your smirk grows at his irked growl. Since you’re in a good mood, though, you decide to not tug on that specific string too much. Instead, you reach up and begin to draw light circles around the back of his hand. Dark circles dip downward.

Feeling cheeky, you flash your teeth at him. “But does this mean I get to pick out a wedding band for you? All’s fair in love and war.”

Eclipse snorts. “Absolutely not. I know exactly how your devious mind works, and I refuse to be tied to some fake costume jewelry just because it amuses you.”

You tsk and blow a raspberry. Faster than you can blink, he ensnares the tip of your tongue in a biting pinch between his claws. Your exaggerated exclamation of protest goes ignored.

“However, I’m not opposed to finding something that will suit both our tastes. You may have some input, but know that I will veto anything that is less than fitting of my standards.”

He releases your tongue, and you pull the smarting appendage back into the safety of your mouth. You grimace.

“How very romantic of you.”

“Much more than you have been, I’m sure,” he states. Your confusion must show because he adds, “You’ve made quite the case for what you’d like to be called, sweetheart. And I believe I’m more than accommodating to your requests. So what shall I have you call me?”

Your eyes brighten. The question more than excites you, and a curious hum fills the air as you contemplate it. You haven’t really called Eclipse anything other than his name and the term of endearment you chose for him forever ago. That’s not counting the less than savory names you’ve also called him in the past, of course. 

You smile fully.

“I’ve got one or two possibilities in mind, but I don’t think you’d agree with my frankly brilliant ideas. And you were just going on about how you like the ones I suggested because they’ll let others know I’m yours. So with that in mind, how about we go with…”

Your hand comes to rest against his chest, palm flat. Underneath, you imagine you can feel the steady thrum of the celestial wire. That fluttering sensation in your chest almost mirrors it, as do the butterflies in your stomach. You think you understand what that feeling is now.

Calmly, you stare up at him. “My husband.”

This time, you know you don’t imagine the vibrations under your palm that quicken.

Eclipse draws in closer, so close your lips graze his mouth and almost catch on the pointed edges of his teeth. His eyes bore into you.

“I hope you know what you’ve signed yourself up for, sweetheart,” he breathes, and you do the same.

Your wrists are suddenly seized and yanked over your head, pinned together in one claw-like grip that presses them into the mattress. Just like that, your heart is threatening to pound out of your chest once more. Anticipation coils low in your stomach, and your body shivers.

“You might need to remind me every so often,” you say, cheeks hurting from how wide you grin. “Just to make sure that I really get it.”

“I’ll start right now,” he promises and curtly demands another kiss that you sink into.

True to his word, Eclipse takes his time making sure you don’t forget that you are his and that till death do you part, he will be yours as well.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

Ok so Zeb's in a cage, Jack was/is being crushed by the physical embodiment of bureaucracy, Null took their mask off, the judge is already bored and we've still got half a pie left...

The straps of the muzzle bite into your skin and strain against the rest of your skull, bringing back the headache you've been fighting off for hours now. The holding cage is small, smaller than the one they've confined Zeb to, so your only choice is to remain in animal form for the time being or be stuck in some horrible position for god only knows how long.

The paper judge has your sword, hung at an awkward angle on the wall... curtain... empty air(??) behind them where you can't get at it.

You're tired, exhaustion seeping into your skeleton and nesting there, pulling the rest of your body down towards the edges of sleep.

You feel like this trial has gone on for days and days, even though it's only been a few hours now.

The Bureaukrat lays curled around the bench, head resting on its massive inky claws, eyes firmly fixed on you. Streams of ink-smoke curl from its nose and the gaps between its horrible teeth, pouring into your cage through the spaces between the bars. It smells like cold and liminal waiting rooms and the deep disapproval of DMV clerks waiting for you to cough up the right paperwork.

There is a pixie on the witness stand, made visible by a large arrangement of magnifying glasses held in place by more of the judge's disembodied hands, and you wonder for a brief moment if the judge is the paper or the hands or if they're both the same entity but you're muzzled so it's not like you can really ask.

The pixie is pink and white and spidery, his name is Pipsqueak and he's lived in your house for his entire life which is probably why he looks so much like your husband, since pixies take on the shape of the very first thing they see as larvae.

Pipsqueak makes several urgent beeping and jingling noises, flailing all 6 of his arms for emphasis and pointing at Zeb every now and again.

You don't speak pixie, you barely speak coherent english on most days but you get the gist of what Pipsqueak is trying to say.

"Dis kid saw me n' his first reaction was ta trow holy water at me! Das like peppa sprayin' a mouse! I didn't even do nuffin to him... yet... bet he'd look real nice wit a new haircut." Pipsqueak flexes 6 sets of fingers menacingly, many eyes narrowed with malice. "But I wouldn't kill him or nuffin, that'd make my boss sad n I don't like when my boss is sad."

The judge nods in understanding, using one of their hands to lift Pipsqueak off the stand so they can usher in the next witness.

You've lost count of how many testimonies you've heard so far, some lobbying for the death of Zebede on principal, some for the fun of a good execution or Just Because.

More people than you expected advocate for letting Zeb live, though for entirely selfish reason, their ideas for his final punishment range from indentured servitude to turning him into a fairy for a certain time frame to straight up giving him to Peter Pan which you're very sure is a violation of the Geneva Convention.

Your friend Gehr'Hedra Soljrkenne, Hunter-King of Virkara, The Third Burning Star, [Our Eclipse Presence, God Of Desperation], the Paleblood Royal, Inheritor of madness, etc ad nauseam who has known you since you were a half formed Concept clinging to empty pages said: "Mercy spits in the face of their existence- adoration proves they have no grasp here. Let him live, and grow to adore Us. A fitting punishment for a weapon is always to make it your own, is it not? The feelings may be savored that way, and executions are so short, so boring." and that seemed to swing quite a few people around to your side of things.

The judge called for a lunch break halfway through the testimony of a very agitated looking Dwarf Lord who had been on duty when Zeb damaged Fairyland's core, and the Bureaukrat let you out of your cage and muzzle for the occasion.

Lunch was laid out in the theater's lobby, with long banquet tables groaning with food snaking down the middle of the space. You were still a little too stressed to have an appetite, but Null refused to let you just not eat. You watched your alchemist disappear in a cloud of faintly glowing vapor only to reappear with a plate loaded with goodies.

A grilled sunflower head dripping with melted butter and spices, split moon-bones with bubbly roasted marrow, a tankard of whisper wine, chunks of dark bread, and a slab of bloody meat that flinched when you bit into it. Null didn't move until you'd finished the entire plate.

You felt better after eating and that pissed you off for some reason.

Your mom crushed you in a hug the first moment she got, the snout of her hyena head nestled deep between your ears, Bud, Lou and Brucie pressing up against the both of you the whole time. She'd crashed onto the stage the second the muzzle had come out and tore quite a few pages off of the Bureaukrat in the following scuffle, a big black ink stain spread across her face and chest where the beast's claws had grazed her. The rest of your family had hopped down from the balcony in a similar fashion and many of them had also been muzzled and restrained, their weapons confiscated by judge and bailiff.

Egg was still in a cage, she kept pulling knives out of random places and stabbing anybody and everybody that got close, as was her custom. You fed her strips of raw meat through the bars of her cage, and ignored how many times she bit you on purpose.

The trial was drawing to a close, the judge's patience wearing thin as boredom crept in on its scaly belly. Your family loaded themselves back into their balcony, eyes bright with rage and worry.

A tall dark figure with the head of a jackal slowly ambled onto the stage. Dressed in a smart dark suit with accents of gold, the great god Anpu (Anubis) gazed at the angry little boy in the golden cage. Ammit, Devoureress of the Dead, sat on her great hippo haunches beside him and bared her crocodile teeth greedily.

Zeb clung to the bars of his cage and glared at Anpu, as if daring the god to come closer, to get within striking range.

Anpu's muzzle crinkled in what might have been a smile. He opened the boy's cage without touching it.

Zeb bolted, only to run smack into the sharp-toothed meat wall that was Ammut.

"Foolish boy." Said Ammut, licking her teeth. "None may escape Death."

Zeb threw a fireball at the monster, which she swallowed whole like a particularly spicy dumpling. You weren't sure if the sound coming out of Ammut was meant to be a growl or a laugh or some horrid combination of both but it made your stomach twist and your hearts nearly stop.

Anpu placed his warm brown hand on Ammut's snout, "Enough." His voice... his voice was endlessly Old and deep, the mournful howling of wind whistling through a tomb, the whisper of funeral incense, the whine of a thousand canines trudging though hot sands beneath the gaze of the burning sun.

Anpu bade Zeb to stand, and the boy refused to obey. Crouched against the wood of the stage with eyes burning burning burning, his hands wreathed in flickering flames and the shreds of divinity that clung to him like a parasite.

The god's muzzle crinkled again in that strange not-smile and he held up his hands to show that he meant no harm. "I think you and I would be friends in another life, perhaps I will usher you to that new life myself some day if your gods hesitate to claim you."

Zeb didn't move, the flames of his anger burning just that much brighter. "Don't I get to say anything about this? Don't I get to stand up for myself?." He's shaking. "I fucked up, I admit that, I fucked up and now I'm here and now you all want to kill me and that's fair but I don't wanna die."

"Nobody want to die--"

"Shut up I'm not done." Zeb stands up, still glaring, still burning, he points first at Anpu (who he silenced) and then at the judge. "The Knights made you like they made me, so why are you acting like this?"

The judge grins, threads of ink and scraps of wood from their chewed up gavel falling from their teeth. "Just because the Knights made me, doesn't mean I like them or want to do what they say, they left me in charge of a bunch of monster and expected me to behave afterwords... I'm sure you know how that feels."

"You're the Dictates of Preservation, you're supposed to PRESERVE human life, not end it."

The judge, the Dictates, just shrugs. "And you're supposed to kill fairies and witches and demons and anybody else who poses a danger to the Veil, but it looks like we both failed in our quests, little brother."

Zeb scowls, hands balling into fists at his sides. "I don't want to kill anymore, I don't WANT to be a Knight, they left me here to die without a second thought and I don't wanna be like that anymore."

"You're always going to be like that kid, it's woven into your soul and it's never gonna go away." The judge looks sad and manic all at once, like being here and saying this physically hurts. "You can take the boy out of the church, but the church has to be taken out of the boy like shrapnel. One bloody piece at a time..."

"I'm..." Zeb swallows, the fire in his hands weakening, dimming, dying ever so slightly as he fights back tears. "I'm not gonna be like that forever."

But he sounds so unsure of himself.

Anpu clears his through, half forgotten during the conversation. A spotlight spills around him. "Might I make a suggestion?"

The judge tilts their head but doesn't speak, twirling one paper curl of hair around their finger.

"His heart has been weighed and measured by his words," The god nods at Zeb almost proudly. "Though he is guilty of these crimes, and the stains upon his flesh show that Guilt has nested deep in his soul, I find him to be Good and True."

Zeb tugs the sleeves of his shirt further down over his gloves, cheeks heating with embarrassment, Anpu not-smiles at him again with a knowing gleam deep in the god's eyes.

"Death would be too boring like the elf king said, so might I suggest he be sentenced to community service?" The jackal god tilts his head, almost cutely. "He's terrified of you lot, so think about how funny it would be if you all forced him to help you with something for days on end."

"...yeah that works." The judge raps their gavel on the bench and calls the trial to a close.