#im simply…. granting a wish

[rascallyrose92]

I refuse to watch Sonic 3 if theres no Amy or Rouge. I refuse to compromise on this front. Both girls need to be there.

[earlyzakariya]

I'm really happy that Adrienne went out and dissed the concept of the island being Britian or US because of the so clear it's not even a metaphor imagery about loss of culture and what it does to people who have to deal with the consequences of loosing that part of themself

[spaciebabie]

i love it when my friends send me springtrap related things and go, "look its your man!" like hell yeah it is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

anyways look at this video and when you get ta the part where they make his hands dont you dare think about how large his hands are and how he could perfectly encase one of yours in hiS HHGEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHEEOOOGGGHOOOOHGGOOO

[jincapableoflove]

Hi there, I’m the anon who requested the Drabble for way of the househusband and let me say you most definitely did my request justice (the way I could visualise JK in my mind saying and doing that with your writing and Bam’s little cameo 😭) - thank you thank you thank you! WHAT ID GIVE TO READ AN EXTENSION WITH A SMUTTY VERSION PLEASE OH PLEASE 😩 I didn’t request smut because I wasn’t sure if you’d be ok with taking/writing smut requests

"you asked me to choose" pt. 2 | drabble

A PART OF 'THE HOUSEHUSBAND DIARIES' DRABBLE SERIES

pairing: jungkook x (f.) reader

genre: househusband! jungkook, corporate office worker! reader, established relationship, flufff, smut.

summary: after a long, exhausting day at work, there’s nothing better than coming home to jungkook’s warm embrace.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smut, mature language, dirty talk, breeding/pregnancy kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, light dom/sub dynamics, aftercare!!!

a/n: hiii anon! im so happy you loved the previous drabble 💗 and guess what? your wish has been granted! hehe i went ahead an wrote an extended smutty version just for you. lmk what u think! hope you enjoy!!

requests are open! feel free to send in fic and drabble ideas!

read part 1 here

jungkook carefully plates your food, setting it in front of you with a small, satisfied smile. the aroma alone makes your stomach rumble, and the first bite melts in your mouth. but as you settle in, chewing thoughtfully, you start to feel a distinct gaze on you.

lifting your eyes, you find jungkook watching you.

you pause mid-bite, raising a brow. “why aren’t you eating?”

he simply shrugs, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin against his palm. “i’m enjoying the view.”

the sheer audacity of his words sends warmth creeping up your neck. you chew slower, trying to ignore the way his dark eyes stay locked on you.

“jungkook,” you sigh, setting down your chopsticks. “stop staring.”

“but you’re so cute when you eat,” he muses, lips curving into a lazy grin.

before you can retort, bam lets out a small whine, his head resting on jungkook’s knee as he watches the two of you with hopeful eyes. his tail thumps against the floor, clearly hoping for a bite.

jungkook chuckles, scratching behind bam’s ears. “sorry, buddy. this is your mom’s dinner.”

you shake your head, reaching down to give bam a fond pat. “you two are ridiculous.”

jungkook smirks, tilting his head. “admit it, you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

//

the soft clatter of chopsticks barely registers before jungkook’s hand wraps around your wrist, his grip firm yet gentle as he tugs you up from your chair.

“dinner’s great,” you tease, letting him guide you effortlessly, “but i think i’m still hungry.”

his dark eyes flicker with something unmistakable. “good,” he murmurs, backing you up against the kitchen counter, his voice a low rumble. “because i’ve been starving.”

before you can respond, his lips crash onto yours, urgent and intoxicating. his hands grip your waist, lifting you onto the counter as if you weigh nothing. the cool surface meets your thighs, but all you feel is the heat radiating from him.

the faint rustle of his apron brushes against your legs as his body presses closer, the scent of soap and spice clinging to him. his kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, leaving you breathless.

he parts just enough to whisper against your lips, voice thick with need. “you taste better than dinner.” 

his hands move, exploring every curve, every inch of bare skin exposed to him. his lips trail lower, ghosting over your collarbone, each press of his mouth leaving heat in its wake. your breath hitches as his fingers tease beneath the hem of your skirt, skating over your thighs with sinful ease.

“god, i love coming home to you,” you gasp, your grip tightening around his shoulders.

jungkook smirks against your skin, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “then show me just how much, baby.”

before you can melt entirely into his touch, an impatient huff interrupts the moment. you glance to the side, and there, sitting with his ears perked and head tilted in pure canine curiosity, is bam.

“jungkook,” you hiss, shoving lightly at his chest. “bam is watching! we can’t do this here.”

jungkook groans dramatically, his head dropping to your shoulder. “why notttt,” he whines, dragging out the syllables like a petulant child. “it’s not like he’ll understand anyway.”

you scoff, arching a brow. “bam is a child. we’re going to the bedroom.”

jungkook sighs, but the teasing glint in his eyes tells you he’s more than happy to comply. with a mischievous grin, he hoists you up effortlessly. “fine. but if he scratches at the door, it’s your problem.”

//

the moment you step into the bedroom and lock the door behind you, jungkook wastes no time capturing your lips again. this kiss is different, overflowing with the impatience he’s barely been holding back.

a breathy giggle escapes you as he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming down your sides. tilting your head back, you grant him better access, and he eagerly takes it, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“this blouse needs to go,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire, before sliding it off your shoulders and tossing it aside. his hands find your breasts, kneading them over the thin fabric of your bra, sending delicious sparks through your body. the friction is maddening, and before he can tease you further, you unclasp your bra, letting it fall away.

jungkook doesn't hesitate. his lips latch onto your bare skin, tongue flicking over a sensitive peak while his other hand palms and squeezes the other, drawing a sharp gasp from you. he sucks gently, savoring every reaction he pulls from you. 

you both fall back onto the bed, jungkook’s lips still latched onto your nipple as his hands move lower, removing your skirt and pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

a gasp escapes you when his fingers brush over your already slick folds, spreading them apart with practiced ease.

“already so wet for me,” he murmurs, voice thick with satisfaction. “did you miss me that much, baby?”

you barely manage a response before his middle finger finds your swollen bud, pressing down just enough to make your hips jolt. a breathy moan slips from your lips as he circles your clit with slow, deliberate strokes.

jungkook chuckles, low and husky. “you’re so sensitive tonight. i barely touched you.” his teasing only heightens the ache inside you.

he leaves your breasts, his mouth trailing lower, his dark eyes locked onto yours as he shifts down the bed. “let me hear you, yeah?” he rasps. “i wanna know just how good i make you feel.”

and then, without another word, he presses his face between your thighs, dragging his tongue in a slow, torturous stripe down your center. the pleasure is instant, overwhelming, and you can’t help the way your back arches off the mattress.

jungkook groans against you, gripping your thighs to keep you still. “that’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “let me take care of you.” 

his pace quickens, his tongue working you more fervently, each stroke drawing out another whimper from your lips. the pleasure is all-consuming, and just when you think you can't take any more, his fingers join the mix.

his tattooed finger finds its way to your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly pushing inside. your jaw falls slack at the sensation, your walls clenching around the intrusion. one finger is soon followed by another, the stretch both intoxicating and perfectly preparing you for what’s to come.

"god, you take my fingers so well," jungkook murmurs against your skin, his breath hot as he watches the way your body responds to him. "so tight, so wet—just for me, huh?"

your fingers curl into the sheets, the desperate ache within you growing unbearable. “j-jungkook, i need more,” you whimper, unable to hold back any longer. “please… i can’t wait anymore.”

jungkook groans at your plea, his restraint snapping. "yeah?" he breathes, pulling back to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with desire. "you want me that bad, baby?"

without wasting another second, he strips off his clothes, his toned body illuminated by the dim glow of the bedside lamp, sleeve tattoos in full display. your breath catches when your eyes drop to his throbbing length, standing hard and proud, the tip glistening with precum.

the sight alone sends another wave of need through you, your thighs instinctively pressing together. jungkook catches the movement, smirking as he strokes himself slowly.

“don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, voice husky. “you were just begging for me, remember?”

jungkook lines himself up with your entrance, sinking in slowly, inch by inch. the stretch is familiar, one you’ve grown accustomed to over the years, yet it still steals your breath every time. he fits so perfectly inside you like a puzzle piece sliding into place, like you were made for each other.

his body presses forward as he pushes in fully, his hips flush against yours. his hands are planted firmly on either side of your head, caging you in, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss.

your fingers dig into his back, clinging to him as pleasure ripples through you. “god, i love the way you fill me up,” you murmur against his lips, voice breathless. “you always feel so good, jungkook… like you were made for me.”

a low groan rumbles in his chest. "damn right i was," he growls, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes before he starts moving.

he sets a slow, deliberate pace at first, letting you feel every inch of him. but as the pleasure builds, his movements grow sharper, his pace quickening. moans and curses spill freely from both of you, the air thick with heat and longing.

"faster, please," you gasp, voice laced with desperation. "i need more—harder, jungkook."

that’s all the encouragement he needs. his grip on your hips tightens as he snaps his hips forward, thrusting into you with newfound intensity. each movement hits just right, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

jungkook’s thrusts grow deeper, more deliberate, as he leans down, lips brushing against your ear. his voice is low, rough with desire.

"fuck, baby… you’d look so beautiful carrying my child," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "can you imagine? your belly round and swollen, full of me." his hands slide down to grip your hips, holding you even closer. "you’d be the most gorgeous mother… and i’d make sure to take such good care of you."

a shiver runs down your spine, heat pooling in your core at his words. if it was even possible, you feel yourself getting even wetter. the thought of a baby with jungkook doesn’t scare you at all, in fact, it only excites you. he’d make such a great dad, a hot dad, and you can’t deny how much the idea turns you on.

your body tightens around him, the pleasure mounting to an unbearable peak. "jungkook—i’m close," you gasp, clutching onto him.

his grip tightens, his pace unrelenting. "then let go, baby," he urges, voice thick with need. "come for me, i wanna feel you."

the euphoria crashes into you like a tidal wave, your orgasm surging through your body as you cry out his name. you clench around him, coating his length in your release, and the sensation drives him over the edge.

a deep groan escapes him as he buries himself inside you one last time, spilling his warmth deep inside. the sensation of being filled up so completely makes your head spin, pleasure still buzzing through your limbs. jungkook presses his forehead against yours, panting, his hands soothing over your sides as you both bask in the afterglow. 

jungkook presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "i’ll go prepare your bath now, okay?" he murmurs, his voice soft as he slowly pulls out. his hands instinctively reach out, guiding your thighs to press together, as if wanting to keep every drop of him inside you just a little longer.

but as he starts to move, you grab his wrist, your voice barely above a whisper. "no… don’t go. let’s just stay like this for a while, please?"

he exhales softly, his resolve crumbling in an instant. "okay, baby," he relents, settling back down beside you. his arms wrap securely around your body, pulling you close, his warmth enveloping you like a cocoon.

completely spent, you melt into him, the exhaustion of the day replaced by a deep, satisfied calm. every ounce of stress has dissolved in his touch, in his presence. you know a bath will make you feel even better, but right now, you don’t want to leave this warmth don’t want to be anywhere but here, tangled up with him.

shortly after, you doze off, completely worn out. jungkook carefully untangles himself from your embrace, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before slipping out of bed. he makes his way to the bathroom, setting up a warm, relaxing bath just for you adding bubbles, lighting candles, creating the perfect atmosphere. because he’s that kind of husband. the kind who always knows exactly what you need before you even have to ask.

he doesn’t have the heart to wake you, so instead, he scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you with the same tenderness as if you were the most precious thing in the world. it’s only when your body sinks into the warm water that your eyes flutter open, blinking at the sudden change in scenery.

jungkook kneels beside the tub, a fond smile on his lips as he runs a soft cloth over your shoulders, his touch gentle, reverent.

"feel better?" he asks softly.

you sigh, letting the warmth seep into your bones. "so much better."

your heart swells as you watch him, this man who has loved you so selflessly, who makes even the simplest moments feel like something out of a dream. you don’t know what you did to deserve him, but you know one thing for certain: you love him more than words could ever express.

after a pause, you open one eye, mischief creeping into your voice. "you’re not joining?"

jungkook smirks, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "that wasn’t part of the order."

you grab his wrist, tugging him closer, your lips curving into a knowing smile. "i think i’m allowed to make modifications."

his chuckle is deep, sinful, as he steps into the bath without hesitation, the warm water licking up his toned skin as he pulls you flush against him. "oh, baby," he murmurs, hands already sliding over your slick body. "you’re dangerous."

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @iamstilljk @pinkpantheris @xovkhnxo @livi101ful @mah-clarah @alessioayla @taefect94 @yuniesluv @lectrice-ios @daskewl @marblemoonstones

taglist open!! lmk ur thots <3

[ryebread0605]

Hello, if it's not a bother I would like to ask Jamil Viper with a reader like Gigi Grant, a genie who appeared in the movie 13 Monster Wishes (Monster High)

This is such a fun ask as someone who adored monster high growing up! No specification was given so I’m gonna do a mix of both smut and fluff! 

When he was sorting through the treasury, making sure nothing was stolen by some of the more sneaky dorm members, Jamil’s eyes fell upon something that made his eyes widen. A golden lamp, just like the ones in the stories of the sorcerer of the sands. It had intricate swirling details and diamonds encrusted in floral designs. Checking to make sure no one was around, he picked it up slowly and carefully. Sure, he had heard the stories of the genie growing up, but he simply thought it to be a way to downplay the insane power the sorcerer of the sands held. So, without thinking anything of it, he rubbed away a dirt spot on the lamp.

He nearly dropped it in shock as what looked to be a spirit emerged, dressed in dark red silks and adorned with golden jewelry. Your voice sounded like that of a sirens, luring him in as you spoke the words he had only heard of in legends, 

“Thank you for awakening me, master. How may I be of service to you?” The way you approached him reminded him of how he would approach Kalim, he had never expected to someday be in the position where someone else was his servant. Sure, he had long dreamed of it, but he never once imagined it would be anything more than a silly dream. 

“Sevens I’m going crazy, im hallucinating…” he just couldn’t believe this was real, although he lifted his head to the sound of your soft laughter. With a smile, you approached closer and gently took his hand in yours, looking up at him with the warmth and comfort he had never experienced before. And just like that, he understood for once what it felt like to have someone care about him. 

The first few days of having you around were… interesting… to say the least. He was still very hesitant to ask anything of you, especially anything that had to do with Kalim, but slowly overtime opened up more and more. It started small, just him asking to help him carry the clean clothes to Kalim’s room or to help sweep the lounge floors. It felt… nice. Having someone else help him made the chores more bearable and the chats you would have during them sometimes even made him smile. 

When he asked you for the first time to hug him, he was shocked by how gentle and loving it was. Not restrictive like Floyd’s or overpowering like Kalim’s, just soft and comforting. Almost like you wanted to make sure he could pull away if he wanted. But why would he want to, when it felt so natural and so right to be in your arms. That was the day he discovered how truly touch starved he was and how much your touch in particular made him feel safe. He still felt bad asking you for things, but your reassurance that your purpose was to answer to him made him feel slightly better.

(NSFW begins here please do NOT continue if you are a minor!)

As the days turned to months, he began to have a different kind of want for you. He noticed himself staring more as you did tasks and blushing anytime you smiled at him or hugged him. It took him talking to Ace of all people after a basketball game to figure out what was happening. 

He was in love.

He knew he couldn’t ever actually confess to you, but maybe he could find something else. And so, he called you into his room one night to ask you for a favor.

“You wish.. for me to do that? Are you sure master?” Your voice wasn’t one of hesitation despite your words, instead one of wanting to make sure you were hearing him correctly.

“Sevens it’s hard enough for me to even ask this.. p-please don’t make me ask again..” he covered his flushed face with one hand but quickly widened his eyes as he felt your hands on his belt.

“Very well master, I hope I can please you well.” 

He had his hand over his mouth desperate to muffle his moans as the other hand gripped his bedsheets, eyes shut in pleasure as your head bobbed up and down on his cock. Your tongue swirled along the rosewood coloured tip as saliva rolled down your chin. Looking up at him, your eyes locked with his brown ones before he gripped the back of your head and forced his cock down your throat, thick strings of cum flowing from his dick as he let out a muffled moan. Pulling your lips off with a pop, you licked your lips with a smile.

“I hope I did well, master. Maybe I can please you other ways sometime”

[rottenbologna]

Three wishes

Pairings ~ Ona Batlle x Bronze!reader

Genre ~ angst

Warnings~ brace yourself?

Ona expected that you might scream, cry, demand answers or even slap her across the face but none of that came you were just frozen in the doorway completely silent, so she waited but nothing came. You were just silent.

Ona stare into your eyes that would normally tell her everything she needed to know but now they were just empty. No sadness no anger just..nothing. The silenced in the room stretched for an eternity, but y/n stayed silent which killed ona as she waited for something. Anything.

The soft click of the door is all she gets locking the scene of her in bed with other women. The other woman being y/n’s older sister that laid with widen eyes bed sheet pulled to her chest to hide her shame.

“y/n i.. please I’m sorry. It’s not…I never meant to hurt-‘

‘stop’ y/n cut her off shaking her head after resting the steaming beverage that’s in her cup back on the coaster. “it doesn’t matter.”

Ona looked like she selfishly wanted to cry but y/n couldn’t bring herself to care. Not anymore.

“can I ask you both something?” y/n’s voice is distant almost like she was in a different room altogether and never once did she ever meet her girlfriend or her sister who joined them now that she was decent in the room.

They both looked at each other unsure the aura of calm leaving them uncomfortable but they considered they both committed the ultimate sin in both their relationships with y/n and knee they had no choice be to indulged her.

"I want you both to grant me three wishes."

Lucy blinked in confusion while Ona paled gravely. "What..what do you mean three wishes."

"I'm sick." The words tumbled out of y/n's lips like it was nothing. "I've been sick for months and I've kept it a secret. I don't have much time left." Y/n didn't wait for them to react. "I don't want to leave the earth with any anger in my heart so please can you grant me three wishes?"

The room is silent as lucy choked on her quite tears and ona trembled. "What? Cat got your tongue or did you leave it in my sister's." A smirk that almost resembled one of a sadist graced Y/n's lips before it dropped back to a neutral smile.

Ona tried reaching out for her girlfriend but the girlfriend just stepped back out of her reach.

"I knew about all of this." Y/n gestured her hands between them "I'm not stupid but It's done and the least you both can do is grant me three simple things."

"What is it that you want?" Ona says after a long pause voice barely above a whisper.

"Three days." Y/n says simply further the girls confusion. "Three days of doing whatever I want."

"OK."

○●○●○●○●○●○●

When Y/n asked for three days lucy and ona expected to be put through the worst kind of torture just to make up for half of the pain they had caused.They Spent two of the three days waiting for an argument to burst out or pleds for answer but it never came. The guilt and sorrow ate away at them as the granted every wish.

The last day Y/n requested to spend the day alone with her older sister at the beach. She did as much as her condition would like her before they both sat staring at the sunset.

"Listen y/n i-"

"It's fine lucy."

"It's not! How can you be so cool about this how could you just have us do these stupid things like everything is normal?" Lucy stood up in her rage pacing as the gravity of the situation finally settles on her chest.

"Let me remind you im the victim here and however I choose to process that is now of your concern. You made your bed now lay in it." Y/n eyes never once left the sun patting the space next to her and her sister sat back down in defeat.

"I knew about you two way before three days ago like i said before. I'd be blind not to notice it. The way you both looked at each other, the texts and late nights. But I also knew I was sick and I knew I didn't wanna be alone so I let it go..I had my time for anger and sadness and right all I want is peace and if not that. Quite." I'm too tired for the what if's." Y/n sighed the exhaustion clear in her voice.

Lucy brought her knees to her chest then wrapped her arms around them to control her shaking. "I never meant for things to go this far..I never meant to hurt you."

"I don't need you to apologize luce the fact remains that you did hurt me and I just wanted you to know i wasn't blind to it. But like I said no apologies let's just enjoy what we have left."

Lucy slightly agreed and sat with your head on her shoulder till the sun went down after the moon took the suns place she felt the shift it was colder and much quiet than the silence from before she tried to deny it with all her but there was no changing it.

You were gone...

[bigwishes]

Caption Drop

Corey made his wish, he wanted to be huge, a massive muscular beast, he wanted men to be shocked when they say him naked. He thought he had coved all his bases when making his demands to the Djinn "I want to be huge, only muscle growth, i wanna have awesome abs, I want men Im about to sleep with be shocked when I take off my pants in front of them, I dont wanna lose any intelligence, I dont wanna be hairy, I just wanna be a hyper masculine muscle cow" The Djinn smiled granting his wish. Corey got the body of his dreams, unfortunately for him he did think about how he casually threw in being a muscle cow and moments after his muscled stopped inflating he felt a pain in his groin, watching his pants bulge outwards the zipper suddenly split open. Corey stared in shock, his balls had become the size of a beachball, his dick was gone now instead four dicks hung off the corner of his sack making it look like a giant udder.

"wh-WHAT DID YOU DO TO MM..MEEE....MOOOOOOOOOO"

"well you did say you wanted to be a big muscle cow" the Djinn laughed in response

"MOOOOOOOOO!!! MOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Corey yelled, the noise of a frustrated bull replacing his voice, but the Djinn was unable to understand him and so the desperate attempts to reverse the beastly part of his wish were simply ignored.

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

Kyle always wanted to be a competitive bodybuilder but he could never stick to the diet to cut down enough to go on stage, nor did he have the confidence. He had all the muscle, if only he could shift the bodyfat and think he was worthy of being on stage. Kyle made a simple wish "I wish I looked good enough for the stage, I wish I had the confidence to stand in front of all those guys"

Suddenly the clothes Kyle was wearing was replaced with a slutty harness, something snapped in his brain and all his nervous anxiety was replaced with cocky douchbag thoughts. Kyle was ready for the stage alright, not as a bodybuilder, but instead as a slutty horny man whore.

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

Less than 5 minutes ago John was a much smaller twunk. He pumped into a guy at the gym, his sweat smeared across him. John called the guy a disgusting sweaty roid pig. The guy was ready to drop it but John continued to tell him how he'd never wanna be that big, he cracked a joke saying the man probably stunk like a locker room 24/7 because of how hard it would be to move his body. Suddenly two guys grabbed John's arms and the man he made fun of forced his jaw open and shoved what tasted like a small lemon lolly. John's body began to grow uncontrollably. Soon he was a giant freak. John stared at his new body, the body of a giant sweaty gorilla, his stench was worse than anything he had ever smelt before and the 3 bodybuilders who were pinning him down moments ago were now laughing at him and his awful stench in the corner of the locker room.

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

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hi hello! hopefully what im asking for isn't too obscure, but do you think i could i get resources/tips on how to write a being that was synthetically made/and or coded? Much thanks in advance/for the chance!

Writing Ideas: Synthetically-Made Characters

some character tropes

Artificial Human: A human being who was created artificially rather than born naturally.

Artificial Animal People: Human-like animals or animal-like humans created through science.

Artificial Intelligence: In fictional works, AI most usually refers to artificial general intelligence — a sapient, self-aware computer system capable of independent thought and reason.

Bioweapon Beast: You create your own attack animal, genetically engineering existing organisms or creating your own. Maybe this new organism would rather just be left alone, and refuses to actually fight. Maybe it goes feral and becomes a dangerous monster roaming the wilderness. Maybe it actually works perfectly, but those in charge of it are far from ethical.

Clockwork Creature: May be purely mechanical, or, if in a fantasy setting, there may be a blend of mechanical and magical elements.

Mechanical Lifeforms: A race of robots or robot-like creatures that are also considered a honest-to-goodness species of living things. They're just like your everyday living organisms, except they happen to have metal for skin, wires for nerves, and so on. They're often silicon-based as well. These may be robotic animals, plants, micro-organisms, or sapient creatures. If they are sapient, they would never wish to Become a Real Boy because, as far as they can see, they are as real as that boy. The origin of such creatures is often never elaborated on or unknown to the characters. It's not uncommon for them to have creators Shrouded in Myth and mystified or outright denied in a sort of reversed creationism that are later further explained in plot-relevant and shocking revelations, similar to precursors for organic species. Sapient mechanical lifeforms tend to react as one would expect when they learn the nature of their origin, usually in some kind of denial and anger. There has been a trend of portraying mechanical lifeforms as formerly organic races that roboticized themselves either as the next Evolutionary Level or simply to survive some world-ending catastrophe that affected them in the past. However, it's also common for such creatures to simply arise without a creator in a process comparable to evolution.

Puppet Permutation: A person changes into a living puppet. They sometimes can control themselves, but this is usually not the case. These puppets are often controlled by outside forces.

Examples

Frankenstein's Monster is one of the most classic and well known examples. While it is stressed at certain points through the original Frankenstein novel that the monster is an entirely unique species, he certainly has a human intelligence and personality. It is left ambiguous whether creating the creature was actually a bad thing or not. The creature suffers (and subsequently causes suffering to his creator), not because it was created but because the creator abandoned it afterwards.

Celtic Mythology: Blodeuedd, the woman created from flowers to be the wife of Lleu Llaw in Medieval Welsh mythology.

A Greek myth tells the story of Pygmalion, a man who shunned real-life women but craved that his beautiful sculpture of one would come to life. He loved it so much that he prayed to Venus/Aphrodite, the goddess of Love, to grant him that wish. After he kissed the ivory-carved statue's lips, Venus worked her magic and it came to life. This is seen as a literal "Breath of Life".

Pandora in Greek myth was a sculpture that the Gods made and brought to life.

Japanese Mythology: Any non-electronic item can become a Tsukumogami if it's cared for and becomes old enough, which are Animate Inanimate Objects. This can also happen to toys, giving rise to the Living Toys trope.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: An alien civilization created at least one sentient supercomputer, Deep Thought, for the purpose of answering philosophical questions regarding the meaning of life, the universe and everything.

The Hunger Games: During the rebellion which led to the creation of the titular Games, the Capitol bred a number of genetically engineered animals called muttations (commonly abbreviated to mutts) which were used as living weapons against the districts. From the Tenth Hunger Games onwards, they became a regular feature in the arena, with the Gamemakers using them either to kill the tributes directly or to drive the tributes together and force them to fight each other. Examples of mutts seen in the Games include poisonous snakes which are programmed to attack anyone whose scent is unfamiliar, carnivorous squirrels which attack in packs and werewolf-like creatures which have been created to resemble fallen tributes.

Victor Frankenstein (2015): Victor proclaims to Igor that they will create a man after their own image. The process involves stitching together dead body parts and reanimating the corpse with lightning.

Isaac Asimov often averted this trope quite harshly in his Robot Series and related works, preferring to think of robots as tools rather than people. He only imagined robots being roughly humanoid when they needed to be able to perform tasks which human tools for already existed and it wouldn't make sense to replace every piece of equipment when one robot could be made to use them. They were always built to the job, and sometimes that job made for very unusual designs instead.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, here are some related tropes you can use as inspiration. More examples and information on these in the sources linked above. Hope this helps with your writing!

[moonchildstyles]

oleander

oleander part one: nothing could draw y/n in the way harry could

wordcount: 11.7k+

cw: this leans into some darker themes including a description of a dead body, mentions of a parent who has passed away, some panic attack descriptions, and just in general some doom and gloom vibes! but I promise this is a love story im just doing something diferent!

—————

(Y/N)'s eyes followed the immaculately dressed figure floating through the shop. Barred from getting closer with the counter in front of her, she could only watch as he made his way through the small apothecary. He never glanced in her direction, though she doubted he was unaware of her eyes on him. 

Dried herbs hung around his head like a dreary halo, the muted tones falling in line with the rich brown of his hair. He was tall enough that he just barely grazed the line of lavender sprigs strung up and dehydrating above his head. His coat was of a deep green velvet, tailored to show off the broad of his shoulders and strength of his arms. The matching cravat around his neck stood out starkly against the white shirt under his grey waistcoat, his skin appearing almost as pale as the starchy collar standing stiff against his throat. She wished that he would turn around for just a second; she wanted to see his eyes. Were they really as dark as she remembered, or had the town's gossip altered her memory? 

As if hearing her thoughts, he quickly picked his head up and made to turn and match her gaze. She urgently dropped her eyes to her hands, pretending as if she had been preoccupied the whole time by the bundles of sage she was meant to be tying. Now her wishes turned to that of hoping he didn't catch her staring. She was sure he got enough of that as is when he bothered to venture down to their small village; he didn't need any more when he was simply trying to shop. 

Forcing herself to keep her eyes down, (Y/N) tried to forget the Count's presence (was he even a Count? She wasn't sure, but that was what she had heard the women at church calling him, and no one seemed to object). She hoped he couldn't hear the sound of her heart as easily as she could, the beats pounding through her ears just from the fact she knew he was traipsing around her father's shop. Casting her gaze out the small window situated by the collection counter, she tried to see past the thick fog that had gathered that morning and done little to dissipate through the hours. If not for the fact she had lived here all her life, she would have had problems navigating through the mist. She wondered how someone like the Count fared under these conditions. He barely left that castle of his, how did he or his footmen know where they were going this time of year?

Granting herself a single peek in his direction, she saw he had gone back to shopping. He moved so silently, she wondered how he was able to cross the apothecary so vastly without a single footstep being heard. She watched as he brought bundles of herbs to his nose, taking in the heady scent. He always did this, she noticed. He always looked around until he found the strongest smelling bundles. 

Truthfully, to (Y/N), all the bundles smelled the same. She couldn't notice if one sprig of lavender smelled richer than another, but maybe he knew something she didn't. It wouldn't surprise her if he spent his young years studying herbs and reading books about all of the healing plants, or whatever it was that young gentlemen did in their formative years.

Though it was a hard task to pull her eyes away from him, (Y/N) made the effort to do so. Her father really would be upset if she didn't tie up all these bundles before sundown; he barely liked her working at the apothecary as is, he didn't need any other reason to boot her from the counter.

With her eyes trained on her fingers and the clumsy bows she was tying out of twine, (Y/N) practically jumped out of her skin when she caught movement from the corner of her eye. Pale hands dropped bundles of herbs on the counter, just barely in her line of sight. Her breathing stuck in her throat when she whipped her head up, finding the Count looking at her with his dark eyes. 

She hadn't misremembered, it appeared. His eyes really were almost black, just barely tinted a forest green on the edges—if the forest in question was being spotted in the pitch of night, only a sliver of the moon and stars above allowing any distinction.

Her heart jumped in her throat, running faster than it had any reason to when their eyes met. She forced herself to swallow it down.

"I'm sorry, sir," she muttered, unable to pull her gaze away from his even if she instinctively wanted to look anywhere else. "Did you find all you were looking for?" 

"I did, yes." His voice was a lulling rumble, rounded and heady as if the goal was to lure her nearer. If not for the table separating them, she would have fallen for it.

Offering a quiet smile, she gave him a polite nod. 

No other words were exchange, as per usual for his visits. The Count wasn't much for conversation and idle chatter like the rest of the village. Instead, she could feel him watching her as she counted up his herbs and the price of each bundle. 

He was buying the same ones he always did: winter savory (he switched to chamomile when out of season), tobacco, and lavender. 

The buds together created a confusing scent, adding to the mishmash of what the apothecary already was. She couldn't imagine how he would put these three together in any space of that castle, the mixture too aggressive. 

Though she tried her best to concentrate on only the herbs, (Y/N) was too aware of the static of his presence. She wondered what he thought when he came down to the village, what he thought when he interacted with people like her. He was always so stoic. He never gave anything away, though that didn't stop the village gossip from running wild about him.

Swallowing around her dry throat, heartbeat bubbling against her ribs, she matched his gaze. The pricing for his bounty came out on buzzing lips, "Sixteen shillings please, sir." 

He didn't bat an eyelash at the price despite it being the biggest single purchase her father's apothecary would see until the next time he ventured down. Instead, he looked at her with his dark eyes and a tic in his jaw. He was unbearably handsome, made of cut edges and smooth planes, but he always looked at her as if he were angry and working to bury it down. She could never figure out why or what exactly made his nostrils flare or his jaw tight when he spoke to her, but she hoped she wasn't the only one he reacted to like this. 

His hands moved quickly, pulling out a small pouch of tinkling coins before he plucked out the exact amount for her. For a moment, she could see bank notes tucked inside the pouch as well. While she wasn't surprised that someone like him would have that kind of wealth, she had never seen it before with her own eyes. 

Passing off the change to her, his pale fingers grazed her open palm. Goosebumps immediately raised across her skin, his touch feeling as if he had been standing in the dawn's dew for hours, allowing the chill to cling to his skin and leach away all hope for warmth. The graze was quick, barely a heartbeat long, but she swore she could feel the lingering touch for moments after. Maybe he really did have a hard time navigating the village when the fog was this thick, having traveled in winding routes and wrong turns for so long he still hadn't been able to heat up even after spending time in the shop. 

Flicking her gaze up to his on instinct, she saw he was looking at the swatches of skin exposed from her dress, eyeing the goosebumps he had plucked up on accident. 

(Y/N) cleared her throat, nothing more than a reminder to herself to keep professional and not to gawk at the man. She placed the change in the small cup underneath the collection counter before reaching for his herbs of choice. A length of twine was used to tie up his product, ensuring he didn't lose anything on his way back home. 

"Thank you," he muttered once she passed them back, their skin no longer grazing this time. 

"Have a pleasant journey back home," she chirped, her voice decidedly pleasant against the bubbling she was feeling inside, "Stay warm." 

The Count didn't give any kind of reaction to her before he was leaving the shop in a flourish. Taking advantage of the window at her disposal, she watched as he ventured out into the fog. The mist mingled around him, making him appear as if he were a ghost—one with the Earth-bound clouds. She was only vaguely aware of the way her body heat ticked up some now that he had left. 

Though she could hear the sound of footsteps descending the stairs that led up to their home a floor above, (Y/N)'s head was outside the shop and away from her father. She didn't turn even when she could tell he had made it to the landing. He was used to it by now, she knew. Her head was always miles away as far as he was concerned—thinking too big for the village with daydreams that were only going to hurt her in the long run. 

The air around her shifted, telling her that her father was just behind her, likely watching to see what had caught her attention this time. 

"Is that Harry?" he grumbled, spitting out the name while dismissing the faux-title since they were alone. 

Her father didn't much like the Count—Harry, as he bitterly spat out. (Y/N) was never sure what precisely had set off her father's distaste for the man, just knowing that he thought Harry to be something of a boogeyman against the village. He didn't even go to church, her father regularly complained. What kind of man was he if he couldn't even bother to trudge down from his palace to spend some time with God, even if it was in the presence of commoners? 

(Y/N) never really minded. Though she'd never tell her father, church was boring. She couldn't blame Harry—the Count, whatever she was supposed to call him—for skipping out. Especially with the peeks at the castle she could garner if she trekked through the woods far enough. She wouldn't want to leave that place for anything. 

Nonetheless, (Y/N) answered with a soft, "Yes." Her eyes were still locked on the form of him she could barely make out through the mist. 

A grunt of disapproval left her father's lips. She didn't have to look at him to know that he had his arms crossed over his chest. "Are you okay?" 

It was when he settled a hand on her shoulder that she snapped out of her staring. 

"Yes, I'm well," she answered as placidly as possible when she turned to face him. She didn't want to show just how affected she was by the Count. Her father would do more than just grunt and disapprove if he knew just how drawn to the man as she was. 

He peered through the window, his eyes surely finding the one dark figure filtering through the fog. His brows slanted into harsh slashes over his eyes. "From now on, I want you to find me when he comes in, and I will take over. I do not want him talking with you." 

Her fingertips buzzed at the new instructions, matching the kickstart to her heartbeats. As much as she heard her father's concerns, and had listened in to all the of the stories and webs spun about this man, those did little to deter her interest in Harry or quell the bubbling in her chest every time she saw him step inside the apothecary. 

"I can handle him, father," she countered, trying to sound as uninterested as possible while attempting to hold her ground, "We barely talk when he comes in, anyway." 

The creases between his brows only deepened when he matched her gaze. "I do not want you becoming one of his victims, (Y/N)."

Her lips thinned at his words. "All of those stories are rubbish, father, you know that," she pressed, her words lighthearted despite the argument she was wagering by not immediately giving in, "Since when have we started listening to what Mary and Ethel have to say?" 

He didn't break any, even when she knew she was making a valid point to him. Gossip was prohibited according to the Bible, and yet he was citing stories she had heard the worst of gossipers weave?

There was no real reason for anyone to believe that Harry had anything to do with what had been going on just outside of the village, he was just easy to pin it on seeing as no one really knew him. She doubted any of them—including Ethel and Mary—could actually believe that he was the one behind the bodies that had been found in the woods, and the disappearances that had been added to the murder count. 

From what she'd heard, all signs pointed to animal attacks—wolves, or bears, or anything viscous. Though her stomach curdled at the thought, she couldn't see the Count being the one to rip out commoner's throats, to leave them crumpled in the brush with blood sinking into the earth. All of it was gossip and evil rumors that had not even a shred of truth inside.

"Still," her father stated, countering her argument, "There's something wrong with him, (Y/N)." 

Wrong was very far from threatening as far as she was concerned, especially when it came to Harry. Though, this most likely wasn't the time to share that opinion. She would keep her thoughts about him to herself, her own small secret against the rest of the village.

Harry didn't scare her like he did the rest of them, but they didn't need to know that. 

"Okay," she relented with a quiet nod, turning back to the collection cup so she could pass off the earnings to her father. "I will come grab you next time." 

(Y/N) wasn't sure if it was the additional shillings added to the cup or her pleasant agreement that had her father's features relaxing with a small smile on his lips, but she wasn't going to object.

Besides, she wasn't going to actually follow through on her promise. Harry was her favorite customer, even if she wouldn't admit it out loud. Her father would have to try harder to steer her clear of Harry.

—————

(Y/N) struggled with the strap of her shopping baskets, one hanging from her shoulder over her back with another dangling from her hand. They were stocked full and heavy, filled with everything her father requested that morning before she was sent off. She hadn't even realized how late she was running with her errands, how many items she had picked up and how heavy her bags were becoming until the sun had already gone down and her shoulder ached with the amount she had packed in. 

With the season's change, the sky was almost pitch by the time she made it to the edge of the village, the air chilled and crisp. Her father was going to have her head for making it back so late, but what could he have expected, really? He was the one that wrote the list, knowing half of the items were only available in the neighboring village. 

She hummed as she followed the path, giving herself some company and filling the silence. She hated being out this late—the dark scared her more than it probably should at her age. 

Her steps slowed as the bag hanging from her shoulder once again began to shift. No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't stay put. She attempted to adjust the strap once more as she cautiously stepped over the path. 

With her attention placed elsewhere, she didn't notice the man in her way until she bumped directly into him. 

Her heart started in her chest, rattling against her ribs. She jumped back, whipping her head up with wide eyes. Before her stood the familiar dark-haired figure she had seen just a week prior, pursuing through the apothecary. 

Harry's cut features were pinched with a furrowed brow, his dark eyes trained on her. He was pale like a ghost compared to his dark clothing that blended in with the rest of the night. He reached out to steady her, baskets and all, when she tottered on the low heel of her boot. 

His touch singed her like snowflakes as he grasped at her bare arms. 

"H-Harry," she gasped, his name falling from her lips before she had a chance to collect her bearings. Her skin warmed when her brain caught up with herself; she'd never called him by his name before—or called to him at all now that she thought about it. "I am so s-sorry." 

What exactly she was apologizing for—using his name so brashly or running right into him—she wasn't sure, but she could cover for both, she figured. 

"It is alright," he murmured to her, his hands lingering on her biceps, "I didn't mean to frighten you. Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine, thank you," she asserted, "I wasn't looking where I was going. It has been a long day." 

Tipping his head, as if her word wasn't enough, Harry looked her over before dropping his hands from her arms and taking a calculated step back.  

"I'm sure it was," he said to her, his voice still a low whisper, "Is what why you are out so late?" 

(Y/N) eased into the conversation, despite knowing it was more than a little inappropriate to be alone with a man this late into the evening. She was flattered the Count wanted to speak to her at all, honestly. He always seemed so eager to flee from the apothecary and the rest of the village during his visits. In her dreamland, she liked to think that he actually enjoyed seeing her, this run-in being his opportunity to speak to her without all of the prying eyes trained on him. 

"Yes," she sighed, shifting the small basket on her aching wrist to the other, "I had to do the shopping today, and my father always requests things he knows I have to search all over for, so I've been busy since I woke up." 

Harry hummed at her words, his dark eyes seemingly lighting up with amusement at her trivial complaint. He eyed the heavy bags she was carrying before he met her eyes once more. "Would it be alright if I accompany you back home? It's too dark for a lady like yourself to be walking alone."

Biting back a smile, (Y/N) felt her blood warm under her skin. Someone of his status would know a lady when he looked at one, and (Y/N) definitely wasn't. He had to be teasing her. 

"I'm no lady," she explained, though she didn't sound that convincing under her smile, "But, I think I would really enjoy some company. Thank you." 

(Y/N) was well aware of what it would look like to be walked home by Harry at this time of night, alone on the path and unchaperoned. It would have been bad enough with any man, but seeing as this was the Count, she could only imagine the kinds of rumors Mary and Ethel would spin. The fluttering in her heart urged her to ignore those worries, though; Harry most likely knew better about societal standards than she, given their stations, and he had enough rumors swirling about him that he wouldn't want to add to if he could help it. If he wasn't worried, then she wouldn't either. 

"Lead the way," he said, smiling at her with dazzlingly perfect teeth. 

"Its not too far," she started, peering down the path to see the late night tavern still boiling with people and the small homes that decorated the mouth to the village. "It's just down that way," she told him, nodding her head in the direction they were to take. 

Before she went too far, she adjusted her grocery-laden baskets once more, barely holding back a wince at the weight on her shoulder. 

Harry still seemingly noticed even if she had tried to be discreet. He didn't immediately follow her steps back home. "Let me carry those for you. They can't be too comfortable after such a long day." 

While she was sure it was good form to decline his offer, feign strength she didn't have and continue on without complaint, she wasn't going to pass up on the offer to relieve the stress on her shoulder. 

"I would really appreciate that, actually," she sighed, shifting the basket off her shoulder in a haste, "Thank you." 

"No need to thank me," he answered simply, a pleasant lightness to his features as he took the strap from her hands. He slung it over his own shoulder with an ease (Y/N) could only dream to have. He didn't stop there, taking the smaller one from her wrist as well. 

She was free to roll her joints and feel circulation return to all limbs, more than gracious for her impromptu partner for the night. 

"You said it was this way, yes?" he prompted, starting down the path towards the edge of town where both the apothecary was as well as the flat above it where she and her father resided. 

"That way," (Y/N) affirmed with a smile, falling into step beside him as they started off through town. 

A careful silence fell between them, full of opportunities that twinkled like stars. This was her chance to know him, bask in his presence, learn who she had only gazed at from afar. Though every time she looked at him from the corner of her eye, she felt her throat dry. He was even more gorgeous under moonlight. 

"You know," he started first, unbraiding the silence, "I don't think I've ever seen you come out from behind that counter. I was starting to think you never left; like you were some kind of spirit attached with manning an apothecary at all hours." 

A bubbling peal of laughter felt from (Y/N)'s lips, her hands a fumbling bundle at her waist. "It feels that way, sometimes," she smiled, "But I promise I do have more hobbies than only drying herbs and counting coin." 

"And what might those be?" the Count pressed, looking down at her. In the low light, (Y/N) expected his eyes to look impossibly dark, more like coal than even in the daylight, but she found that ring of green to show more prominently now under the moon. 

"Um," she floundered, tearing her eyes away from his when she felt goosebumps raise over her skin and her heart bounce against her lungs, "I-I like to tend to our garden—for the shop." 

"I didn't know grow everything yourself. That must keep you rather busy." 

(Y/N) shrugged, "It can, depending on the season. But, I've figured it out through the years, and made it easier on me."

"You grow everything for your shop, then?" Coming up to a fork in the path, Harry paused, waiting for (Y/N) to take the first step in the right direction before he followed. 

"Most of it," she mused, an immediate list of their inventory coming to mind, "There's still a few things that I have to scavenge for, but I've become rather good at that as well."

"I don't doubt that," Harry smiled, the curl audible in his voice, "Was it your idea then to start the shop? Fill it with all the things you could grow?" 

"Oh, no," she declined, a furrow appearing in her brow, "My father and mother started the apothecary when my sister and I were still babies." 

"I don't think I've met your sister or mother," Harry shared, casting his gaze towards her once more, refractions of green shimmering in his irises.

While (Y/N) dreaded the subject, she couldn't exactly complain since she had been the one to bring them both up. Truthfully, it wasn't hard to talk about any more, it was harder to field the reactions of those around her when she shared the story. It was never easy to quell retroactive grief. 

"My sister married and moved to the country almost two years ago," she started easy, keeping her gaze forward, "My mother passed away when I was a child." 

When the Count didn't immediately answer, (Y/N) peeked up to find him looking at her differently than before. She didn't find pity swimming through his eyes, only sympathy. He looked at her like he knew her pain. 

"It is a hard thing, losing family," he murmured, shifting his gaze towards the sky, "But, it can only grow easier as time goes on." 

Tracing her eyes over his profile, through the immaculate stone-like chisel of his features and unblemished skin, she swore she could spot the same fine lines by his eyes and slight crease between his brows that she and her sister had sustained since their mother passed. 

She swallowed, hoping her next line of questioning didn't breach too far. "Have you lost family before?" 

"I have," he smiled, though it didn't completely reach those fine lines by his eyes, "It was a long time ago. It's funny how after a while, you can forget what it was like before." 

Though (Y/N) loved her mother dearly and cherished those memories she had with her, she had been without her for longer than she had been with her. She knew what Harry was talking about, exactly. Missing her mother was just a part of her now, and it wasn't anything she tired to push away or get over. She grew around the grief and held onto her mother in that space. 

"Exactly," she agreed, relieved to not be trying to quell someone else's grief and pity for her, "I've remembered her for longer than I actually knew her, but it does not upset me any more." 

"Good," Harry cemented, "She wouldn't want you to be bothered by her memory." 

Looking ahead, the town square was approaching with the town's tavern still full despite the late hour. That was the one place that could be bustling at any time of night, any day of the week. (Y/N) hoped no one would peer through the windows and catch her late night stroll. 

"I apologize for speaking so morbidly," (Y/N) laughed, though she didn't exactly feel guilty to be learning that much more about Harry, "Since you know more about me, I would like to know more about you." 

"I'm sure we could arrange that," he smiled that dazzling smile, "What would you like to know?" 

"I don't think I've ever seen you out in the village before, except for when you do your shopping," (Y/N) mused, hoping to learn a little bit more about what he did up in that castle of his. 

She watched as he shrugged, still completely unbothered by the weight of her shopping. "I come out every once in a while," he prattled, "But I suppose we never have run into each other until now. What a shame." 

Her blood warmed at his final comment. He really must be teasing her, trying to pull those shy reactions from her. 

Before she had a chance to say much in response, the rowdy tavern only a few meters ahead burst open with sloppy patrons spilling onto the street. The men were undoubtedly drunk as was apparent in the slurring of their shouts and the stumbling of their feet. Everything was too loud for the quiet of the night, including the calls coming from inside the bar, urging the few that had escaped to come back inside. The night couldn't already be over, it was still early, those beckoning voices said. 

Maybe it was the dark of the night, the fact she had never been around anyone drunk enough to slur their words, or the stark sound of it all, but (Y/N) startled at the disturbance. She almost jumped out of her skin, her feet stumbling with her heels digging into the crumbling sidewalk. She could hear a gasp falling from her throat though she couldn't remember making the noise herself. 

Before she had time to recover, Harry had swiftly tugged her to his other side. She was now covered by his body with her other side sandwiched with the walls of the other buildings lining the street. From where the drunken men stood, she doubted they would be able to accurately spot her given her new cover.

"Thank you," she murmured, her thrumming heart beginning to slow finally. 

When he didn't respond, she looked up to find him shooting daggers towards the men that were being pulled back into the tavern. His sharp jaw was clenched shut with his eyes narrowed in their direction. 

"Harry?" she sounded, breaking him from whatever he had running through his head. 

He whipped his head to face her once more, blinking with a flutter of curling lashes. 

"Yes, sorry," he finally responded, "My apologies, I would have pulled you away sooner had I seen them coming." 

"It's alright," she tried to soothe, giving him a small smile, "The shop is just up there, I think I can survive a little while longer." 

He cast his gaze over her form for just a beat longer, his shoulder relaxing some by the time he met her eyes again. "I'll make sure of it," Harry teased, cracking a smile at her. 

They shared those final paces in silence, (Y/N) feeling rather proud of herself and a bit giddy to have had him at her side for this long, his attention on her. By the time the dark apothecary topped with the small flat came into view, she almost wished they would round the block once more. She still had more she wanted to ask him. 

"It has been a pleasure, Ms. (Y/N)," he bowed to her, carefully pulling her shopping baskets from his shoulder and wrist, "I hope I will see you again soon—maybe we'll run into each other like this more often." 

"Maybe," she smiled, taking the bags from him, "Thank you for escorting me home, and helping with my baskets." 

"It's my pleasure," he repeated once more, the green in his eyes flashing with amusement, "Have a good night." 

Inching towards the door, (Y/N) gave him a nod. "Good night, Harry." 

A soft lipped smile on his marble-perfect face was the last thing (Y/N) saw before she was stepping inside the apothecary. The bell above the door tinkled, alerting her father who would no doubt still be awake upstairs.

"(Y/N)? Is that you?" he called down the stairs, the creak of his favorite rocking chair sounding as he stood. 

"Yes, sorry!" she answered, bracing herself to trek up the steep stairs to the flat with her body weighed down with all of the groceries. "I didn't mean to take so long." 

"I don't like you staying out so late after the sun goes down," her father chided her, pulling the bags from her form and taking them towards the tiny kitchen, "There's no telling what could be waiting in the dark." 

(Y/N) kept her mouth shut as her father went off on his complaints. She didn't mention Harry once.

—————

Dressed in her favorite nightgown with her hair braided back with the same twine she tied her herbs with, (Y/N) peered once more out her window, finding the same black cat that had been out there since she readied for bed still sitting in the garden. 

Her moon-yellow eyes were bright in the dark as she stalked and played with the bugs that threatened the state of (Y/N)'s herb garden. She had never seen the cat before, but she was tempted to convince her father to let her bring the creature inside. She would be a good pet, (Y/N) decided. 

Laying back against her pillows, only dim candle light allowing her to see her ceiling, (Y/N) cast her mind back to the hours earlier. Her day had been terribly uneventful, but had ended in heart-fluttering territory. 

Though she realized, thinking back to the conversation she had indulged in on her walk home, she never caught why Harry was out so late by himself, anyway.

—————

Grey clouds crowded the sky as (Y/N) carefully stepped over the vining brush at her feet. The hem of her dress snagged once or twice on some of the thorny bushes and the rough bark covering unearthed roots. Acres of towering trees formed a canopy above her head, barely letting any of the limited light through. She had her eyes on the ground as she tried to scope out those few herbs she wasn't able to cultivate at the home garden. The basket at her hip was already teeming with a good handful of different bundles, but she still needed to find some winter savory.

More than once, her mind wandered as she trekked through the trees. It had been a week since she had last seen Harry, and yet he was still the one thing that floated through her mind whenever she drifted to her daydreams. She could still see the line of his profile, backlit by the cloudy moonlight. In her dreams, she had the courage to reach out and trace over the line, grazing the bridge of his nose and the dip of his cupid's bow. He grew more and more gorgeous every time she revisited her memories. 

She was already known to have her head in the clouds, dreams too big for the village to contain, but she definitely floated upwards more and more since seeing Harry. 

A small smile worked its way onto her lips the longer she wafted through her reverie. (Y/N) liked to think that if she had acted on that impulse—dragging her fingertip along the planes of his features—that he would have cracked a smile, showing off the thumbed dimples and dazzling teeth. Maybe, he would have even looked at her, wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her to his chest before dipping her in the middle of the street. He could kiss her then, the moment romantic and brazen and—

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks the second she saw the dead body on the forest floor. 

If not for the pallor of her skin, she could have assumed this woman had fallen asleep peacefully among the brush. She looked to be around (Y/N)'s age, unbound hair spilling around her head. Her eyes were closed with her features set in a serene scene and arms crossed over her chest. Her palms were pressed flat over her collarbones, the same way those in coffins were laid to rest six feet under. The pose reminded her of her mother.

Though all of that tranquility went to hell when she saw her throat. 

While the woman had been laid to rest with utmost respect, that didn't take away from the fact her throat was ripped open. (Y/N) swore her own esophagus grew sore and tight while looking at the women. The skin had been slashed out of the way by something sharp and angry, revealing frayed sinew and torn muscle. The raw red hue stood out starkly against the snowy pallor her skin had taken on. Something had attacked her, taking out her throat and leaving her to die right where she lay. 

The most unsettling part, (Y/N) realized the longer she stood there, was that there was no blood. Where she expected to see a crimson crust forming around the wood or a puddle haloing the woman's form, there was nothing. Her wound didn't even look that gruesome, truly. It was clinically clean instead, as if a healer had already cared for her and planned on bandaging the tear before letting her head home. She had been bled completely dry, leaving her with rubbery skin, thin veins, and a clean white dress. 

She had heard about these incidences—people going missing only to turn up later dead—but she never pictured it was like this. To her, everything sounded as if wanderers were attacked in the woods are lost through the elements. Never once through her forages in the area had she ever met the face of someone whose life was taken so decidedly.

(Y/N) wanted to scream, she wanted to cry and panic and run. But, she just stood there. 

Time was stuck as she saw the woman with long red hair, unblemished skin, and a fine gown. 

All at once, the severity of the situation flooded back to her. 

Her sore throat was split open with a loud scream, blood-curdling and eye-watering. She dropped her basket to the floor, returning the herbs to where she had plucked them, before she sprinted towards home. Her dress caught on the thorns of the brush, her feet stumbling over the unearthed roots. None of the obstacles slowed her. She tugged her dress free with every pump of her legs, keeping herself steady with nothing other than the will of adrenaline and fear pushing he along. 

She didn't realize she had been crying until she saw the edge of the village in sight, her cheeks burning with her hands going numb. A man she recognized as one of her father's friends was out in his garden, cultivating the family vegetables when he looked up to see her, concern striking his features. 

"(Y/N)," the man called out, his voice echoing over the space.

Stumbling in her tracks, she fought to keep herself steady. Instinctively, she wanted to keep running until she made it back to her bedroom with her safety intact. She knew she couldn't do that, though. She had to tell someone about the woman, find her family and lay her to rest properly. 

Find who had hurt her. 

"Th-There—She's—Dead," (Y/N) panted, floundering around her jumbled mind. She couldn't find a single coherent thought in her head. 

The man's thick brows only furrowed as he cautiously approached her. "Dead?" he pressed, making himself appear smaller as if she were the creature to be cowering from for survival. 

Hearing someone else say the word had another round of sobs wracking through her body. "Sh—The girl—She's dead. In the woods, there's been another." 

Horror took the man's features. Blood drained from his face, leaving him shades paler than just moments before. 

"Another?" he asked, "Like the others?" 

"I-I think so," she stuttered, moments away from crumbling to the ground. She couldn't be sure if the state this young woman had been in was what the rest of the others had gone through. She hope it wasn't.

A curse was uttered under his breath before he shouted towards his home. He called for his wife, a woman (Y/N) vaguely knew from church. It only took a moment for a woman to stick her head out of the doorway, her features screwing up in worry the second she saw (Y/N)'s blubbering form.

She was only vaguely aware of the man explaining to his wife what (Y/N) had shared, and that he was going to get the others together to recover the body and care for her. His wife needed to take care of her, inform her father of what (Y/N) had seen today. 

Time moved impossibly slow while racing through each second simultaneously. At some point, she checked out, shock setting in as she came to terms with everything she had seen. By the time she returned, she had been deposited on the stoop of the church, a knitted blanket around her shoulders. Shivers wracked down her spine though she could feel herself breaking into a thin sweat. Many of the women of the village had swarmed around her, including Mary and Ethel. Feet away, her father was speaking with the vicar of the church. 

"Drink this, dear," Mary said, shoving a warm mug of something in her hands. 

(Y/N) made no move to follow her given directly, loosely gripping the cup in her palms. Her gaze was barely focused, tears still running down her cheeks, as she absently stared at the cobblestone under her boots. 

Every time she blinked, she saw the bloodless wound on the woman. Her thin, lavender eyelids masking unseeing eyes. Her thin fingers, the pale skin barely covering the bones underneath. The sections of her neck that were frayed and ripped, matching that of the hem of her dress. 

Murmurs arose once more around her. (Y/N) had no doubt there was already speculation about who could have done this—who would have killed someone in such a way that an onlooker end up as traumatized as the dead. A part of her brain pinged, knowing that Mary and Ethel would no doubt be peering accusingly at the castle in the distance, their accusations known without a single word leaving their lips. 

Now more than ever, having seen a body, (Y/N) had no doubt that Harry had nothing to do with these disappearances. 

No human could do what she saw in the woods. 

—————

"Let me grab my coat, and John and I will escort you back home." 

(Y/N) did her best to school her features, regulate her reaction before reaching a gentle hand on Margret's shoulder to keep her from ascending the stairs. 

"Oh, no," (Y/N) declined, canting her head with a soft smile, "You've already been too kind tonight. I can make it on my own—home's barely a block away." 

Margret chewed her lip between her teeth, looking over her shoulder to where her parents were standing by the hearth. So many eyes were on them and their interaction. 

"Really, Marg," (Y/N) tried again, "My father and I appreciate everyone's kindness enough, I would hate to put you out even more and make you go out in a storm like this." 

"But," Margret started, "I don't want to leave you alone. The storm is bad enough without everything that... happened." 

Almost two weeks had passed since (Y/N)'s run-in in the woods, and yet the village's paranoia was at an all-time high. Her father had been at her side near constant since he had finished speaking with the vicar, promising her that he wouldn't let that happen again—finding something so gruesome, as well as a silent promise that she wouldn't become the gruesome sight. He had been shaken by her reaction, telling the vicar that he had never seen her so vulnerable, on the edge of hysterics. 

Any herb they couldn't grow in the garden would now be out of stock until he himself could forage through the woods, but she would never be tasked with going by herself. Otherwise, he was going to be at her side as often as he could be, ensuring she was never alone. If he couldn't be there, then he had pooled together a batch of close family friends who would be willing to stand in for him. She would never be by herself, never vulnerable to another fright. 

(Y/N) was losing her mind. 

Everyone walked on eggshells around her, having seen her breakdown in real time. They heeded her father's request as if law, never allowing her even a second of alone time if not in the safety of her bedroom. Even her time in the garden had been reduced to a field trip for every young woman who was tasked to be at her side, chattering about the most lighthearted of subjects.

While in a few ways, (Y/N) couldn't blame her father, she selfishly didn't really care. She needed her freedom, even if that freedom came in the form of a short walk to her home by herself. 

"I promise I will be alright," (Y/N) tried to soothe her friend, offering her beaming smile to Margret's parents and brother as well. "Thank you all for dinner, please don't let me add to the burden by making you all escort me home in a storm. I would never forgive myself if any of you fell ill." 

It was Margret's mother that seemed to waver from (Y/N)'s reasoning. She most likely didn't want her children out in the rain, either. (Y/N) wasn't the only one in the village that needed to be protected from whatever lived in the woods. 

Peering over her shoulder, Margret searched for her parents blessing that came in the form of a small dip of her father's chin. 

"I will come visit you in the morning, then," Margret cemented, "to make sure you're alright." 

"I look forward to it," (Y/N) chirped, bringing her friend in for a small hug before inching towards the front door. She gave her beaming smile to the rest of the family. "Thank you again," she said, "Dinner was wonderful. I'll have to steal the recipe sometime, Mrs. Wayfield." 

"I'll send it with Margret in the morning, dear," she said, her smile tight, "Get home safe. Don't linger longer than you have to." 

"Absolutely," (Y/N) promised, pulling the hood of her purple cloak over her head. 

Final goodbyes were shared before (Y/N) stepped outside, the raging storm that had been rattling the roof of the home now whipping against her form.

As much as the wind stung her eyes and the rain chilled her skin, she reveled in the experience. She was alone, finally. 

Despite what Mrs. Wayfield said, she definitely lingered longer than she needed to, allowing the rain to soak her cloak and begin to seep through her dress. She had never been one to steep in the rain or bask in storms, but that was going to be changing tonight. 

The direct walk home was decidedly short, taking less than a block's worth of steps to take her there, but she was going to make it as long as possible. She might even take the scenic route, stepping through the center of town for no reason at all other than she wanted to. 

Heavy droplets of rain weighed down her cloak the longer she took outside, the wind whipping the hem around her in waves. Taking her time, she ambled over the cobblestones of the town square, ignoring the drops that slipped over her warm cheeks. 

Suddenly, the storm changed once she reached the center of town. 

Before, it had been nothing but rain and wind, the kind of storm that would put her to sleep in a matter of minutes. Something shifted in a matter of moments, taking the wind and amping it up into swirling chills. A crack of lightning lit up the sky, making shadowy ghosts of all the buildings and turning the trees into bony hands reaching towards the heavens. Thunder rattled the Earth a moment later. The large drops of rain quickly became a heavy downpour, slicking down her form until her clothing was stuck to her body and her eyes were struggling to blink through the droplets. Every time she peeked through slitted eyes, the sheets slammed down thick enough she could barely see through it.

The scenic route no longer seemed fun now that she was out here. She should have just gone home like she promised. 

(Y/N) had to step carefully over the cobblestones, not trusting the grip of her boots over the cracks. She wished she could sprint though the barrage, but she would no doubt lose her footing and smash her face into the rocky ground if she did. 

Instead, she kept her head down and tried to navigate back home through the rain, lacking sight. She kept her pace as steady as possible, giving all her focus to the task of making it home, though she was vaguely aware of a familiar panic growing in her chest. 

As much as she had wanted to be alone, take time by herself and live in the village without her father's word being law, she still saw the gruesome body every time she closed her eyes. (Y/N) had nightmares of that moment she had come across the young woman, though this time she blinked her eyes open when (Y/N) grew close enough before snatching at her foot. A shaky breath expanded (Y/N)'s lungs at the childish fear that something could even be following behind her at the moment. She would have no idea if there was; every sound was drowned out by the pouring rain, her sight impaired by the water running over her eyes and the heavy sheets acting like a fog over the village. 

Unable to resist the urge, (Y/N) whipped her head around, trying to catch the monster in the act of following her. Unsurprisingly, no one was there. 

She was alone, just as she had wished. 

Spinning around, the village was completely vacant. No one knew she was out here. No one would even know if she had been snatched like that young woman. Not until she was found again.

That flare of panic in her chest rose again, clogging her throat and thickening her head. 

She needed to get out of here. Being alone wasn't worth this. She should have just taken up Margret and John on their offer and gone straight to her room. She could have found her alone time on another day. 

Picking the first direction in front of her, (Y/N) stormed through. This had to take her home, right? She had lived in this flat almost all of her life, she wouldn't forget where it was. 

Until, of course, (Y/N) noticed she had taken the complete wrong direction, heading towards the opposite end of the village. A strike of lightning lit up the grey sky, showing off the vague shadow of the towering castle in the distance. 

The Count's home. She had to turn around; she was no where close to the apothecary. 

This time, when (Y/N) spun around, trying to find a direction to head through her woolen throat and mounting panic, she couldn't decide. What if she went the wrong way again? What if she ended up back in the town center? 

What if she died out here? 

The morbid turn of her thoughts took her breath away. 

She was stunned in place, unable to make any move in any direction. 

Suddenly, a hand settled on her shoulder, stilling her shaking form. 

"(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?" 

(Y/N) stumbled, turning around to face to familiar voice speaking right behind her. 

There, backlit by another round of lightning and thunder, was Harry. 

His hair was almost black under the rain, near soaked despite having barely been out in the elements for longer than a few moments. His velvet jacket grew darker with every drop absorbed into the thick fabric. He pale skin was a beacon in the gloom. 

"H-Harry?" 

"You can't stay out here, (Y/N). You're going to fall ill, or worse," he told her, concern dripping from his tone the same way the rain clumped through the length of her lashes. 

When she gave her body permission to do so, she wasn't sure, but in a heartbeat she was clinging to his form. He was her safety in the middle of his storm, keeping her from falling victim to the most morbid of her thoughts. It was beyond improper, but she didn't care as she dug her fingers into his waistcoat. He couldn't leave her here.

"I-I was trying to go home," she whined, her voice fragile under the weight of everything. "I think I'm l-lost." 

She felt pathetic to utter something so silly given she knew this town like the back of her hand, but it was a truth. 

Harry lingered in front of her for a moment, seemingly assessing her before he sprung into action. 

"That's alright," he murmured, speaking as if she were an injured animal, "Let me take you home. I think I remember the way. Is that okay? I have my carriage over there." 

He pointed behind himself, where another slice of lightning revealed a black, boxy carriage led by regal white horses. She could see the vague form of someone sitting in the coach box. 

When she didn't immediately answer, he wrapped a tentative arm around her form. "Let me get you home, (Y/N)." 

She gave an absent nod, willing to let him take her anywhere—anything was better than this, she decided. He bundled her against him as he took her to the side of the carriage, sacrificing an arm holding her middle to open the door. He helped heave her inside, getting her in as quickly as possible.

"Thank you," she peeped when she settled on the bench seat. She kept her eyes on him as he waited a moment, relaying to the driver the new destination.

Her body shook with unstoppable tremors as Harry climbed in after her, her soaked clothing ruining the red velvet under her. She would have to apologize to him later.

It was here, in the dry of his carriage, that (Y/N) realized she was sobbing with rivers of hot tears pouring down her cheeks. It wasn't just the chill of the rain that had her feeling as if she couldn't breathe, she realized. In the safety of the cover, wracking sobs kept her from properly filling her lungs, her inhales way too short to be safe. 

The carriage spun around her despite the way (Y/N) tried to focus on her hands on her lap. This wasn't good, she knew. 

"(Y/N)," she heard, the voice firm and commanding, "Look at me, darling." 

Absently, she pulled her head up to face Harry. 

He was inches away from her. (Y/N) could make out the the shattered shards of green around his black pupils. The strong line of his nose and pillow lips were right there. 

Harry was dazzling. Breathtaking. 

Unfortunately, breathtaking was the last thing she needed right then. 

Before she knew any better, (Y/N)'s lashes fluttered as her eyes fell closed on their own accord, her breathing stunted in her lungs. The last thing she was aware of was Harry's panicked call of her name before she spilled over the velvet seat as she lost consciousness. 

—————

When (Y/N) finally cracked her eyes open, her limbs felt impossibly heavy as if she had rocks tied to each end as she sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Her bleary sight took it's time clearing, allowing heartbeats to pass before the blurry streaks around her came into focus. 

She was in an immaculate bedroom, she realized. Her body was cushioned by luxurious velvet, dyed a deep crimson. The mattress underneath was plush and inviting, urging her to sink deeper and deeper into the dreamy bedding and warmth it offered. A length of fur ran across the end of the bed, tickling her bare ankles as she stretched. 

Sitting up where she had been nestled atop the bed, more and more of her head came to her. The bed was even more opulent that she thought. Four posters shot up from around the frame, holding curtains made of delicate black lace. Her hands ached just looking at it, thinking about how long it would take to make something so beautiful, even with the help of one of those sewing machines. More furs and velvet decorated the large space; everything honing in on the darker spectrum of colors. Here and there, pops of gold thread appeared like minute rays of sunlight. At the bedside was a bouquet of cut flowers, all in rich violet hues and smelling sweet enough to draw her in like a butterfly. And she almost did, sticking her nose into the tall stalk of trumpet shaped flowers until she realized what kind they were and jerked back. 

Foxglove, she recognized them to be. Poisonous. 

Around the stalk were wisteria blooms and plumes of baby's breath. The wisteria was another set of flowers that were gorgeous to look at, but deadly in the end. 

Pulling away with a stiff back, she set her bare feet on the ground. Now that she was free from the flowers, the woody scent of winter savory and spike of tobacco in the background were the prominent aromas taking her attention. Looking around her, her cloak was dry, laid on the end of her borrowed bed alone with her boots set up in a neat row by her feet. 

This place was extravagant. A fairytale daydream, perfect for her head-in-the-clouds mindset. 

This had to be a castle. No random hut could have something this indulgent.

There was only one castle she knew of. 

Memories came back to (Y/N) in pieces. 

The storm. She had left the Wayfields' home, telling them she would head straight home despite knowing she was lying. She had wanted some time alone, away from her father's overprotective gaze. But the storm was too much. She had pathetically lost her way and panicked, remembering the woman she had found in the woods. 

Then, there was the gleaming black carriage. The ghostly pale face of the Count who offered to take her home, get her out of the rain and into safety before he would be on his way. She remembered him helping her into the carriage, telling the coachman that they needed to drop her back at the apothecary. Her emotions had fluctuated to opposite ends of the spectrum: extreme panic under the sheets of rain to the deep relief she felt at seeing a familiar face who could help her. 

The last few things she could remember was the guilt she felt at ruining the luxe seating in the Count's carriage before looking up to see him facing her directly with his breathtaking features. That was all that had been left before she tumbled back and lost consciousness. 

This was no doubt the Count's home. There had been times she had wondered what kind of interior a building as magnificent as this one would have, but she had never thought of something this indulgent. 

Though, despite her admirations, she couldn't stay here. 

She was never supposed to take even the long walk home, let alone travel all the way to the gargantuan home that the most notorious member of the village resided in. (Naming him as a member of their village was a stretch, but the easiest way for (Y/N) to think at the moment). There was no telling how long she had been out, but her father was going to kill her even if it was ten seconds. 

Despite the ache in her bones and the stiff fabric of her ill dried dress, she forced her boots back on, the laces pulled into clumsy bows. Her cloak was grabbed in a haste before she started towards the door. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she needed to get back home as soon as she could.

Swinging open the heavy door, (Y/N) swayed on her feet, stopping in her tracks when she saw who was on the other side. 

Propped against the opposing wall, between more cut flowers and immaculate paintings, was the Count himself. 

He was at attention within a second, but (Y/N) had caught the way he had been slumped against the wall, his shoulders a sullen slope. In an instant, he had crossed the grand hall to meet her at her door, his hands reaching out towards her. His eyes looked darker than ever, only light shatters of deep green apparent in his iris. His usually flawless hair was left in disarray. Somewhere, he had shed his coat and cravat, leaving the billowed sleeves of his shirt and grey waistcoat the only articles on his torso. Even the neckline of his white shirt had been left loose, a stretch of creamy skin on display. 

"Are you okay?" he breathed out, his gaze immediately tripping down her form before she had a chance to answer, "I-I tried to make sure you hadn't injured your head, or-or worse when you fell faint, but I couldn't be positive." 

Her lashes fluttered in a blink as she startled over his concern. She had never seen him so discomposed, his demeanor world's away from calm. 

"I-I'm alright," she breathed, finding her tongue in her dry mouth, "You brought me to your home?" She could vaguely remember him ordering the coachman to take her home, back to the flat above the apothecary. 

He wet his lips, his eyes searching through hers as he collected his words. "When you fell faint," he started, "I was not sure if you would have been alone if I took you home. I was worried; I decided to take you back here, so I could keep an eye on you. That's all, I swear it." 

She was sure he knew just as well as she that being alone like this—unchaperoned, neither of them dressed as they typically should be, no one aware of her whereabouts—was more inappropriate than a single moonlight stroll through town. This could ruin both of them if anyone found out; (Y/N) would be deemed unbecoming for marriage, and the small amount of reputation Harry had would be buried six feet under. 

Throughout all, (Y/N) still found her skin warming, seeing how genuinely he spoke of her and his worry of her well-being. Other than her cloak and boots, she could tell none of her clothing had been tampered with. He had done nothing more than keep an eye on her. 

"Thank you," she swallowed, nodding her head as she allowed a small smile to curl her lips. She felt a bit desperate then, hoping he knew how deep her gratitude went. "Truly, thank you. I-I don't know what happened to me, it was scary." 

"I'm sure it was," he murmured, the tight set to his features loosening the longer she stood in one piece before him. "I am glad I found you when I did." 

"How long has it been?" she asked, noticing not a single window that could give away the time of day. She wasn't even sure if it was still night time.

He deflated some at her words. "A few hours, I think" he shared, dropping his gaze as if realizing just now how long he had been her self-appointed guardian, "The storm finally ended not too long ago. You were exhausted, (Y/N)." 

She had never heard her name wrapped in his voice before. Looking at him now, she was back in that carriage with her lungs stunted and mind only on him. She swore she could see his eyes lightening before her gaze, more and more green coming to the surface like a murky pond under sunlight. The panicked urge she had to race home slowly melted out of her. 

"I'm not surprised," she agreed, finally breaking her gaze from his for no other reason than to allow her breath to come back. She cast her eyes around the opulent space, taking in the priceless art around her, the glossy flooring and detailed decor. "This is your home?" 

"For as long as I can remember," he smiled, pride straightening his shoulders as he followed her line of sight, "It's my sanctuary. If you'd like, I can have the kitchen make something for you and I can give you a tour of the grounds in the meantime." 

Instantly, she wanted to accept. She wanted to see what kind of creations a place like this could make in the kitchen. She wanted to know where he had found such gorgeous, but deadly plantlife. She wanted to know if any of her daydreams had been right about this place. 

Unfortunately, there was that niggling worry that popped back up in the back of her mind. 

"As much as I would love to, I can't," she reluctantly let out, "I have to go home. My father... he's probably rallying the village as we speak, trying to find me before he loses his mind." 

Harry's expression fell, losing that pride over her praise. Nonetheless, he gave her a relenting nod. "I understand," he said, cracking a small smile, "I have had you hidden away for long enough, I suppose. I'll have my staff ready my carriage, and I'll have you home by dawn."

"Thank you," she said earnestly once more, "Really, Harry. I fear where I would be if you hadn't come across me." 

"I do as well," he shared, his voice low as if sharing a secret with her. 

This time, (Y/N) didn't wipe the smile from her lips as she looked up at him. Another shade of green seemingly appeared in his gaze. 

—————

"You're not coming with me?" (Y/N) asked, poking her head out of the door of the coach when Harry didn't immediately follow after her. The first rays of sunlight were beginning to crest the horizon, giving away just how long she had been far from home, though that didn't stop her from stalling. 

"Unfortunately," he said, keeping his feet planted on the ground outside the carriage. He looked up at her from where he stood, holding the door open as he spoke to her. "I have business to attend to very soon; I wouldn't have time to arrange everything if I escorted you this morning. I hope you'll accept my apologies, anyway." 

Though she was disappointed she would lose out on time with him, she couldn't blame him. He must be a busy man if he had this place to call home and a full staff to take care of it. He didn't have time to chauffeur her around the village, even if that was what she wanted. He didn't even have a chance to tell her where he had found the flowers for his bouquets. 

"I suppose I'll forgive you this time," she said, a sly smile on her lips that had Harry's own lips blooming, "But next time, I won't be so lenient." 

"I appreciate your grace, my lady," he played along, offering her that dazzling smile and dimpled cheeks. "I promise to see you soon. I feel like I'll need to visit the apothecary sooner rather than later." 

(Y/N) could take that promise. "I will make sure we stay stocked, then." 

"Until next time," Harry said, inching away from the carriage with reluctant steps deeper into the shadows.

"Until next time." 

With that, Harry closed the door to the coach, relaying the destination to the driver. 

With her hands in her lap and heart bubbling in her chest, (Y/N) allowed her cheeks to split with her smile. Definitely better than any kind of daydream her cloudy head had come up with.

—————

As soon as she approached the church, (Y/N) was grateful for the instructions she had given to the coachmen to drop her at the edge of the village, leaving her to be the only one who had seen the carriage at all. As she had suspected, her father really had rallied every able body in the town. She could only imagine she had caught them right before they started combing the woods and terrorizing the neighboring villages until they found her. 

It was Margret who had seen her first, breaking down into tears with a bursting sob before she was running towards (Y/N).

"Where have you been?!" she screamed, collapsing around (Y/N) in a steely hug, "I—We—Everyone thought you were—" 

Margret didn't have to finish her words for (Y/N) to know what had been on the village's mind. 

Before she had a chance to do anything more than reciprocate the hug and draw a breath, her father was barreling over. "(Y/N)!" he shouted, a mix of relief and anger tinting his tone. She doubted he even knew how to feel in that moment. 

"I'm sorry, Margret," (Y/N) muttered, offering a consoling smile before pulling away from her hug. The Wayfields stepped forward to collect their daughter while (Y/N) went towards her father, already dreading the lecture she would receive. "Father, I—" 

The air was stolen from her lungs the second he scooped her into a tight hug. "My daughter," he murmured into her hair, nestling her against his chest, "I thought the worst." 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, aware of the eyes watching their embrace. 

"What happened?" he asked, pulling away to face her with watery eyes and warm cheeks, "Why didn't you stay with Margret and her family? They said you went through the storm alone, promising to come back home." 

(Y/N) felt immense floods of guilt bubble through her system. This wasn't the welcome home she had thought she'd garner. 

"I hadn't meant to frighten anyone," she started, hoping the rest of the village overheard, "I only wanted a minute alone, but I was planning on coming home right away. But, the storm was so heavy, and I scared myself. I was disoriented and ended up a village over. I stayed in their church for the night, until it was safe to come home." 

The lie slipped off her tongue like water, the story planned from her time in the carriage. Her guilt only worsened knowing she was deceiving her father, but she didn't want anyone to know where she had spent the night. Despite the impropriety of the whole thing situation Harry, she didn't want Mary and Ethel chattering to her father that the Count was trying to steal away his daughter and flay her before dropping her in the forest. 

She didn't want Harry to be dragged into this. 

His features tightened at her words, but she could see as he ultimately accepted them. "Okay," he relented before flexing his arms around her in a pulsing hug, "Never again, (Y/N). Do you hear me?" 

"I hear you," she promised, holding him back just as tightly. 

Over his shoulder, she could see the gleaming of a black carriage ascending the trail towards the large castle in the distance.

—————

oleander, if consumed, can slow the heart and cause death within hours.

ahhhhhh! super super super different for myself ngl! I changed a couple of ideas I had just bc I started scaring myself but thank you so much for reading! im so happy im finally putting out a halloween fic! so sorry for any mistakes and if theres any ideas or thoughts please send them in!

[variousqueerthings]

#i was trapped and it was dark and i was absolutely glued to the tiny screen jane schoenbrun would be weeping tears of joy i believe

#hey guess which movie i just watched#(on my phone on a plane)#i saw the tv glow im screaming @autistic-puffin i think you may have watched this movie the first time in best way possible!!!

[heartcircus]

okay but can we talk more about how . quick clown was to take tina under his wing. the fact that it reflected how he came to take ros as an apprentice … ough. the parallels?

first, with bad (jokingly) threatening tina after clowm logged off only for clown to log in at the perfect time, which made bad go immediately silent and back off. like . what is this . december?

but then there was also during the confrontation with pili/ace. clown wasn’t taking it seriously, joking around and having a very light attitude towards the whole thing. when pili said he found clown boring, clown took it in stride. but tina rose to his defense, and pili immediately latched onto her — asking if this was clown’s apprentice, hiding behind the arena’s walls. and it’s like. something clicked in clown’s head because he said she could do whatever she wants. and then he started actually taking the confrontation seriously. and he brought up ros.

sorry im a rospierce (/p or /r idc i just love them as a duo) enjoyer. and i’ve hardly seen anyone talk about it so. here i am. analysing it. all one line.

“you expect me to care what you think. but that’s the whole point, isn’t it? i never cared. i just wanted to put you in the dirt for what you did to ros.”

i remember back in january, feeling slightly disappointed at how misconstrued the fight between pili and clown was advertised, with people claiming it was “toxic yaoi” or “pili proving himself”. and those are interpretations that can be had, especially from pili’s pov! it was framed as if pili was the underdog and clown was the final boss pili has to defeat to gain some respect, and though he ultimately failed, clown never spoke about the reasons why he personally fought pili that day.

i’m sure a lot of people, both in the realm and in the community, assumed it was because pili was obsessed with clown and his deepest desire was to die by clown’s hand. they probably also assumed clown was fighting simply because he was the only one who could. but that’s not the case. sneeg sought out clown before the fight and offered to take pili down, but clown refused him. it was personal to clown. probably because ros was targeted due to her relationship with him.

maybe that’s why he never told anyone why he did it. at the fight. why he purposefully played into the role of pili’s final wall to overcome. because people knowing he cared about ros is exactly what led to her being hunted down and killed in the first place. he doesn’t want to advertise just how important she is to him, because it’s dangerous to be so. and it’s a shame, but also so very interesting, because despite the fact that their relationship is almost entirely private, ros has never once doubted that clown cares about her.

but you can also see that clown seems to be letting those walls down! i mean, he blatantly admitted that the reason he fought pili was for ros’s sake. this was in front of only foolish and tina, who wouldn’t use this information against him, and bad who already knew. but still. i wonder if it’s because of sneeg and zam and ros herself have grown stronger. and he doesn’t feel that he is the only one who needs to protect them.

sorry for the rant/analysis that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. because clown hardly logs in, he doesn’t do a lot of lore. and when he does do lore, it’s hardly talked about because people tend to view it as non-canon because they can’t see him committing to it . but i still think he’s such an interesting character despite that ^^

this is an amazing analysis anon.... woawww my rospierce heart

but yes i agree!!! the whole purpose of the fight did get misconstrued; clown fought because Ros' safety was in jeopardy if he didn't, not to grant pili's wish. he never cared about that, he never cared that pili was obsessed with him and any advance pili tried making clown actively ignored or dismissed (ex. throwing away all the gifts pili gave him). it was all for ros.

i also think clown is the type of guy to hide his relationship with ros as a means of protection like you said. it's dangerous to let people know you have attachments, it's something that can be exploited and used against you. it's happened time and time again on lifesteal, clown's home. it makes total sense for him to want to hide how much he cares for ros in hopes of keeping her out of danger.

clown and ros' relationship is so interesting to me . god i love them so much. they have like undying faith in one another and despite clown not being around a lot and most of their bond being hidden in private, they're unwavering. clown comes back and it's like nothing ever changed .

[mono-dot-jpeg]

the witch's diner [w.i.p] - a. azul

summary; in which a new witch comes to nrc, ready to take over the restaurant business

genre; rivals to lovers (probably), witch is used as a gender neutral word, reader is a piranha mer-person (i think at least), magicless! reader, reader is not yuu (i hope that much is obvious), written at least a year ago, and now impulse posted bc i want to, possible series if im feeling silly, READER'S PERSONALITY IS [slightly] INSPIRED BY KDRAMA WITCH'S DINER

[gender neutral reader] [TEST RUN PREVIEW]

a/n; this has been sitting in my google docs for a while and never posted bc i just do that and also i never post even half of my drafts so that's just a given really. if i find it in myself to continue this maybe i will. but i wanted to post this as like a test run or a wip.

you dont need to watch witch's diner to understand reader's story but i like the show so if you have time, watch it. i love song ji hyo sm. anyways i dont know what kind of fish i made reader, this was written in like sept of last year KSHSKDJEK it was probably between a shark or a piranha but im like 60% sure it's a piranha.

imagine azul's surprise when he found out about the latest witch of the sea.

how they made the most delicious of dishes and granted a wish with them. were they free of charge? no, that would put far too much weight on the balance of the world, they would explain.

then what about it being a signature spell?

they would simply laugh in their face, claiming that, "not anyone can simply be born with magic so powerful. why, i'm magicless."

no one really believed those claims… right?

it was such a big title to steal, and yet.. some random magicless person just happened to have such a power? azul didn't believe it when he heard about it at first, but then they arrived.

clearly they were of mer-person descent, their skin shiny, their teeth almost as sharp as a piranha, the side locks of their hair were a metallic-like blue gray and their height almost as tall as the twins that stand beside him. he can't quite figure out what kind of mer-person they were, but it was obvious enough that they were from his homeland. and then he heard the whispers from the other first years.

"wait! that's the person all the rumors were talking about!"

"what? the sea witch rumor!?"

"no way! they wouldn't be here, they're magicless, aren't they?"

"is it really them?"

"shh! we don't know yet!"

with a calm smile, they stand in front of the mirror.

"state thy name."

"y/n l/n."

"y/n, the nature of thy soul is sharp and intelligent and yet.. they possess no magic." quiet gasps and whispers erupt again but their smile stays calm, there's a smug glint in their eyes that only a few can see. "the shape of thy soul is octavinelle." the section of the octavinelle students freezes cold as they take their spot in their respective section.

they ignore the curious stares with ease. azul can't help but wonder what kind of talent they truly possess. he almost feels envious if he were to find out that they were just handed this with ease. and he was jealous of their lack of care for the gossip and whispers of their name after that announcement of their magicless self.

but a pair of twins watch them with sharp and amused eyes, one more mischievous than the other.

"hm, what an interesting fishy! don't you think so, jade?" one speaks.

the other hums in agreement, "yes, floyd. i wonder if those rumors were of any truth. how amusing that would be."

[hughesmybaby]

valentines

tom blyth x kpopidol!fem!reader

fc: jennie kim of blackpink

part two to english love affair

notes: and i’m back! you must’ve feared i’d never post again but i’m more inspired than ever. thank you for someone suggesting a valentines post, and for once im early. most posts will be coming from me soon!

please request, send me anons, talk to me, suggestions and what not. i do soc med aus and also written blurbs and have plans for stories about tom and his characters. ♥️

hope you enjoy! again please like, follow, share, and most especially reblog with your lovely comments to reach more and send me feedback/comments on anything.

divider by @cafekitsune

yourusername

liked by hunterschafer and 5,009,656 likes

happy valentines to my heart of heart, the soul of my soul, my best friend, the light of my life and more. my life has never been the same since you’ve been it, and i wouldn’t want it any other way. i love you @/tomblyth

user145 THEYRE SO CUTE

randomuser8 oh i’m so single 🤒

tomblyth i love you too, my sweet 🩷

↪️ yourusername i love you so much

↪️ tomholland2013 oh get a room guys 🙄

↪️ yourusername @/zendaya go get your man please

↪️ zendaya 🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️i don’t know what you mean

↪️ tomholland2013 HEY! 😭😭

jessicalxander dream couple!

hallebailey you guys are so perfect together

tayrussell send the wedding invites please 🙏

↪️ user7 HUH?

↪️ ynfan she’s playing we know y/n and tom are so busy to even think of it lol

tomblyth

liked by alexademie and 2.8m others

my siren, my muse. as another valentines rolls in, i never wish to take this for granted as another milestone simply and enjoy everyday i’ve had with you, my angel. my brilliant, talented, gorgeous, intelligent girl. i love you @/yourusername

jenaissante treating my girl right as you should 😌

↪️ yourusername love youu girlie pop 🫂

↪️ ynfan6 tom found dead in a ditch who?

user197 aww him following her in the studios to watch her produce so cute

johnnyjsuh and when are we getting that solo song y/n? 🤨

↪️onyourm__ark yeah @/yourusername where’s all that studio time going

↪️ yourusername trust it’s coming soon 🙏🙏

↪️ user67 she said this last time i hate ___ entertainment 😭

username9 she’s so pretty i wish to be like her when i grew up

antifan8 get this ugly off tom’s profile

↪️ tomblyth you have no right to insult my girlfriend like that. get out my page otherwise.

↪️ randomuser5 tom defending his girl as he should

user77 nobody send a truck in front her company she ain’t leaving her man

liked by yourusername

yourusername

liked by tomblyth and others

oh how i love love.

usernamehere her apron is so cute does anyone know where it’s from?

↪️ random8 probably couture or something at this point or goop lol

↪️ user7 probably my mom made this

↪️ ynfan725 who’s momma?

↪️ user7 that’s the brand 😭

↪️ ynfan725 oh my bad ignore me lol 😅

user86 she’s so spoiled by him and he in turn manifesting this for me

random9 me next year

user7775 that cake must be so good and easy to make

↪️ fan721 i’m a pastry chef and make these and they ain’t easy lol

kpopfan421 ynnie what’s the name of your bear?

↪️ yourusername not sure 🤔 any suggestions?

↪️ user8 how about tommy!

↪️ yourusername lets go with that 😁

tomblyth

liked by mayahawke and 7.8m others

ynfan856 oh y/n you are so loved

random1002 the daily love notes in the mirror and countdown oh i’m sick

melissabarrera 🩷

oliviarodrigo how romantic!

rachelzegler putting in the effort blyth!

↪️ tomblyth anything for my girl

↪️ rachelzegler ofc because i’d steal her from you if you don’t 😝

austinbutler great job man

yourusername

liked by taylorswift and 10.5m likes

so grateful, i’m speechless.

alexconsani OKAY GIRLL GET THE BAG

↪️ yourusername learned from you sis 😍

user86 this has to be the most liked post on ig in a while

kpopfan454 do they have this on amazon lol

↪️ user1111 you checked craigslist or something i’ve given up 😭😭

random723 oh he has to be rich rich to give her that

↪️ user913 GOOD FOR HER!

hunterschafer you deserve this and more my angel

↪️ yourusername love you so much hunty im going to cry

[seillarium]

angst drabble w/ ace my love

notes : written in reader's point of view, i think there's no dialogue, no proofread as always, english is not my first language

sincerely, sei : ok so i ddnt write for a very long time, and idfk why im even writing when my exams are tomorrow, but i promise once i get a break i'll write another fic for ace. also, angst cos im suffering but prepare to be underwhelmed ig

your whole life, you've always tried to avoid doing certain things.

you don't know why, but you're convinced that no matter what happens, you'll finish it at the end of the day; washing the dishes? you'll hold it off for a few hours. you need to make a decision? you'll think about it later. no matter how big or small it is, you always hold it off.

another thing is, you're a firm believer that you'll always have another chance.

you failed to cook a certain recipe? eh, you can just redo it, or better yet, let someone else (a certain.. chef) do it. you forgot a very important belonging of yours on the recent island you visited? oh well, not the end of the world. you're sure you'll obtain something better.

it is what it is.

and that didn't change when you met ace.

you simply took the time you had with him for granted, never caring if he left for a few months. he'll come back, right? same goes for you, he won't be missing you so much, no?

he always comes back to you.

you never clung onto the moments where your eyes would hold each other's, how you'll exchange smiles and his would be a thousand times brighter than yours.

because he'll always be there for you.

he'll hold your hand on random strolls, he'll stand with you whenever you want to observe the morning dew. he'll hold you in winter nights, he'll whisper you sweet nothings before you sleep.

you never thought how when you hold off on apologizing to him after an argument, he'll be in his cabin waiting in pure agony for you.

or when you forget something he mentioned in passing, thinking it's unimportant. not knowing he's truly disappointed inside when you brushed him off.

you're aware that you're not perfect, you never will be.

but now, as you look up above, and you see him chained and looking so, so miserable, you wish you were. and as you ran for him, you can't stop but regret everything you ever did up until this moment.

you should've stopped him from chasing teach.

you should have at least checked if he's okay through the den den mushi.

breathless, you screamed his name.

you should have held him a little tighter in those nights,

you should've let his kisses linger.

with aching legs, you ran.

and as quick as your relief washed upon you when he was released by his little brother, it was also quick to be replaced by dread.

no. please no.

it felt as if your heart was the one that was ripped apart, when you saw him like that. you didn't even hear his last few words, still caught up in your own thoughts.

you should have... you shouldn't have...

as you stood still, and as the time ticks by and eats up away the rest of your sanity, you realized.

you'll never have a love like this again. you'll never experience the warmth he naturally emits. you'll never meet someone like him ever.

because you only had one shot.

ps. : yeah uhm, it's not good isn't it (im sorry i just need to get this out of my system 😔😔)

[aeragan]

[anon: could you do a nsfw alphabet for raiden??!!] i am also so sad about the lack of raiden stuff in general, like im mk1 he's just the sweetest!?!?! like he's so bbg. and in like every other game he's so fuckin hot, dont sleep on him cmoooon. i also apologize for this taking so long to post, ive been getting so distracted lately its kinda hard to focus fully on. anything. BUT IM MAKING UP FOR IT I SWEAR!!!!

cw: amab, nsfw, pretty vanilla tbh, proofread. MINORS DNI

ʀᴀɪᴅᴇɴ || ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀʙᴇᴛ

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Raiden's aftercare routine is second to Tomas'. He loves you, and he refuses to skip aftercare. Doesn't matter how he is, or how tired you are. He's going to run a bath with all sorts of dried herbs and some Himalayan salt, he'll even hop in if you so wish. From there, he'll be hands on, or hands off. Whichever one you like. If you want some space, he's more than happy to give you some. He'll change the sheets, and get you some clean clothes. He'll also make a full on meal for you. But if you'd like him to stay near, he'll sit at the edge of the bath and just talk with you. About the sex, about you, about him, about anything, really. And after all that, he'll carry you to bed,- he refuses to let you walk- and lay down with you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite also has to be his hands. He's very proud of his training, especially after becoming Earthrealm's champion. They're strong, and he also loves how they look on your body. He's gentle, always. He's also particularly proud of how soft they are, especially since he was a farmer and now fighting for Earthrealm's protection.

On you, his favorite body part is your chest. He likes how it displays your strength. Not to mention, he's simply drawn to your chest during intimacy. As much as he's Earthrealm's protector, he likes know that you can defend yourself and that you have your own strengths as well. He also enjoys your back, how defined it as, and the little noises you make when he runs his fingers down your spine.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Raiden prefers to cum outside, specifically on your lower back. He simply likes how it looks. He refuses to cum inside, he feels like it's almost undignified. Don't try to convince him to.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants to be ridden by you until he sees stars. He's so sure you wouldn't mind it, but you are his first and he's rather apprehensive about sharing. It's the first thing he thinks of when he masturbates even, watching your body grind against him, in a desperate search of pleasure.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You are his first. He had saved his body for someone he had felt comfortable and a real connection with. He enjoys learning about sex with you, especially when you take the lead. Of course, he gains more experience the more you two fuck, and he gets quite good at it. His focus is all on your pleasure, and always will be.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

With his aforementioned secret, he loves cowboy. As much as he loves cumming on your back, he needs eye contact. It is very important to him. He likes to know he's treating you well, watching your face twist in pleasure. It also makes it easy to tell how well he's doing, since he makes sex all about you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Raiden is serious. Granted, he's shy, but he's fully serious about sex. It is something he had saved himself for, and he prefers if you are serious about it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's got a little body hair everywhere. Some arm hair, some chest hair, a delicious happy trail, and some pubic hair. He keeps himself trimmed, however.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Raiden is by far the most romantic. Like I said, he focuses on you during sex, and your pleasure. He does everything to keep the moment intimate, and he makes sure you feel beyond loved. He cherishes you, and as such, he makes you feel like the only boy in the world. You're his one and only love, you're his. He's going to make sure you know how much he loves you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He prefers not to masturbate when he has you. Even if you two haven't been able to enjoy each other for a while. Now, if he's absolutely yearning for you and you aren't available, he'll jack off then.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

His only kink is praise, really. He loves seeing your reaction when he calls you a 'good boy', listening to your soft moans as he throws all sorts of sweet words & praises your way. He also responds quite fondly to being praised, he likes to know how he's doing. Whenever you praise him, you can always feel a shiver of electricity run from his body to yours.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He always prefers his room. It's comfortable, private, and quiet. He's hesitant with sex, so he enjoys the environment of his own place. It's almost a sanctuary for both of you. He rests easy knowing no one is peering or listening in.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Initiative. Raiden is rather timid, so knowing your yearning and knowing you are okay with taking the initiative really sets the mood and gets him going. He particularly enjoys it when you trace his arms or his hands, and give him that sly smile.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything rough, he hates the thought of harming you, even for your pleasure. He cannot, physically, mentally, or emotionally. If you ask, it is an immediate no. He wants to make you feel good, not make your hurt.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He actually prefers receiving, he just finds it hard to ask. But he'll go down on you if you ask. Anything for you. He's actually really good at giving head, even more so as he continues to learn about all your body's tells and quirks. But if you go down on him, he'll be the loudest, most appreciative man.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Raiden's default is slow & sensual, and he'll only pick up the pace slightly. He takes his time with you, he likes the mood to be right and proper. Doesn't mean he can't make the time worth it though, he makes you cum like no other. As said beforehand, he catches on quickly to your body language. He knows every single sensitive spot on your body, where to touch to make you moan just right. He loves having you give in to his touch and lay against him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

It doesn't matter how long you two have been apart, he refuses to do quickies. He wants the moment to be perfect, to be right. He wants you to feel his love, and he cannot find a proper way to appreciate your body with quickies.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

There is only one thing he wont mind trying, and that's using his powers. He's thought about it, more than once. But he is afraid of hurting you. Of course, he'd only use them on a smaller scale, shocking you just a little here and there. But anything else, he really can't do. If you ask him about using his powers in the bedroom, prepare for a full conversation about it. It is only until he has proper consent that he will try it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina only increases as he spends more time with you. But he can only last for about 3 rounds, however, he puts his all into every. single. round.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Raiden doesn't see the appeal, to be honest. Perhaps if you ask nicely, he'll use any sort of stimulation toy on you. But why do that when he can use his powers? Creativity is a naughty thing, my friend.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can't bring himself to tease you, not now, not ever. He hates it when you beg, actually. His whole goal is to satisfy you, and if he has you begging, then that means he's not doing his job right.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Raiden is loud. He's sensitive, he's comfortable, and you just make him feel so damn good. Sometimes it's hard for him to form words properly, that all you can hear is the very start of his praises melting into sweet, sweet moans and sounds of appreciation.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He really enjoys coming up with little names for you. And he always loves your reaction bed when he uses them. It's always something sweet, 'My light' is the most common one he'll use. Regrettably, he picked up 'Sweetheart' from Johnny, but the way he says it sounds so perfect. He does prefer using your name, especially during sex, because it just feels intimate.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Raiden's more of a shower, and he's around the average size. He's 5.7" in length when hard, and 1.7" across. He leans slightly towards the left & is slightly veiny.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive depends on you, really. He'll fuck you whenever you wish, as long as time permits it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Raiden's mind is an active one, so it takes him a while to fall asleep after you do. He isn't worried about his performance, no. He's just got a lot on his mind, and sometimes your naked body lingers in it for a bit too long.

[cryomancers-orb]

SO. I finally played Khaos Reigns...

And I'm disappointed, of course, but surprisingly they tried to do something almost interesting with the brothers. Even if they failed miserably. And I want to talk about it, so uhh, welcome to my ted talk. (Lol btw I love how Tomas stops existing in KR, guess Yuri Lowenthal was busy?)

Skip the part in lines if you want to get straight to the scene I want to talk about!

--------

I want to start by saying that during the entirety of the DLC story, Kuai Liang made my blood pressure steadily rise higher. At this point this isn't even character assasination, it's more like character massacre. I'm not even going to go into how much I hate the whole Harumi thing, maybe in another post, but the way he acts, especially towards Cyrax, is Hanzo Hasashi levels of stupid and unnecessary. And I get that he's Scorpion now, but I kind of wish they'd just made "Scorpion" adopted bro Hanzo and removed Kuai or something to spare him this terrible fate.

He doesn't react at all to his wedding guests being killed, has to be "calmee down" TWICE by Harumi and is generally an asshat in every scene he appears in. Bi-Han is also an asshat but the first story already made me accept that so he gets a pass. The first story also made me accept that he's a fucking idiot so I'm gaslighting mtself into being okay with him jumping into the portal. With that out of the way, let's get to what they set up and proceeded to not be able to use.

-------

In the last act, we get Noob Saibot with kameo Scorpion fighting against Khaos Scorpion and Sub-Zero, in both combinations like the DLC likes to do. But first, they fight Khaos Cyrax and Sektor.

I've stopped comparing the characters to their previous counterparts, because NRS is obviously going nurture here even if they want to say they're doing nature. Their interactions shed a little light on what their relationship might've been like before the Ying Fortress, and we get these moments:

Bi-Han is snappy, demeaning and wants to do everything by himself. Kuai says "Of course. You have no flaws," like it was a common occurrence for Bi-Han to criticize him while accepting none himself.

This is where Khaos Sub-Zero comes in. Bi-Han pushes Kuai away lowkey violently when Kuai tries to come to his side, and proceeds to try to 1v1 Sub but they're pretty evenly matched.

This again paints a picture of Bi-Han constantly holding his brothers back to be on top and do it himself, and I feel like if they wanted to go this route they should've done it from the first story. The Bi-Han there just seemed stir-crazy and with misguided ambition. Not.. the implications here. It's like the story is doing all it can to give Scorpion(not calling him Kuai) some leeway for his own asshollery simply due to someone's favoritism of him. He can't be wrong.

But then, we have the Khaos brothers, who are still... well, brothers. There's no bad blood between them as far as we can see, they're how I imagine they would be in the og timeline before Bi's death plus some pyromancy.

So there's a setup here of them fighting their mirror selves, evil mirror selves at that, but the mirrors are actually doing better between them than they are.

Neither brother comments on this, nor is it granted any significance whatsoever. Though what does happen is a little interesting and something can be squeezed out of it.

Bi-Han brutally kills the two of them, despite Kuai's protests that they could've been questioned. Like, he goes out of his way to creatively dismember Khaos Scorpion. Is he simply testing out his new abilities? Or was he angered by their existence, no crosses to bear, no chasm of differences, just fighting alongside each other.

Isn't that what Bi-Han wanted, at its core? He likes the thrill of the fight. He wants bigger fights and more glory. It was never really that he wanted a kingdom to rule, it just sounded like glory.

Could've worded this better and deeper but idk im tired. What do you guys think?