#it was like i had been possessed by the god of longed-for and timely slumber

[britneyshakespeare]

screw whatever else i've said; the most important thing you can do in this lifetime is watch tv

[aetiologies]

could you be tender? / zayne

summary. he desires so violently and yet he waits.

tags. a heartbreaking amount of pining like give this man a break, he is a YEARNER, he is quite literally obsessed with the mc but not in a weird way, kind of angsty but it does get better i swear, suggestive comments, making-out, implied smut at the very end.

note. pulled out the high school level biology knowledge for this one. inspired by this quote from anaïs nin and the black pumas on repeat.

wc. 2k words

Zayne had no intention in changing who he came to be. They say patience is a virtue only few are fortunate enough to possess, and though this may run true, he believes it to be otherwise.

It was neither a blessing nor a curse as it simply just… existed, living within him like a permanent encryption of genetic code, for better or for worse. The gods made him like this–so be it. Neither a genetic defect nor a simple computational error placed down by his own DNA polymerase could change the fact that patience was a slow digging knife into his gut. It inched deeper and deeper, slicing through layers of skin and connective tissue until it punctured through vital organs and dug into the very marrow of his bones.

Through the layers of ice so thoroughly fogged to the point of inconceivability, to you it may have looked miles deep, but in reality it was nothing but a fragile wall of glass. The simple blessing of your touch, no matter how delicate and gentle it may be, it was more than enough to splinter a crack in his countenance.

He wondered if you could see it. The look in his eyes, the desire of which was so inherently violent, the curiosity of you seeing such a thing after years of being by your side was only a delusion—a mere semblance of his pitiful hope.

You slept so soundly upon his bed, shoulders finally relaxed for once. You had been so awfully tense since your grandmother’s passing and the receival of her letters that even successfully inviting you over for dinner and a movie was a miracle. Though, you fell into slumber long before the ending credits of the film even arrived.

Zayne wondered if this was the same worry that often plagued you when you saw the fatigue tainting his under eyes after long surgery-filled shifts.

You cared about him. He cared about you too, perhaps a little too much. He became a doctor for you after all, but that was a detail you didn’t have to know—shouldn’t know, rather. Zayne was a long time family friend of yours, but he was your primary care physician first and you were his patient.

It could never be anything more than that.

That became his mantra since the start of his rather laborious career, and an even more extensive job of hiding his feelings from you.

It was kind of stupid, really. A grown man closer to the age of thirty than twenty, have fought a handful of wanderers, and one of the best cardio-thoracic surgeons in Linkon, was afraid.

Zayne laughed at himself, a short palpable huff for the ridiculousness of it all, but it was enough to cause you to stir in your sleep.

A groan escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered open, turning over your shoulder to see Zayne perched at the end of the bed with his back towards you. Confusion washed over your face then when you noticed your surroundings. Your cheeks flushed crimson then, bright even in the dim lighting. This was not the living room you recalled yourself to be in.

“Zayne—”

“Had to move you before you got a stiff neck again,” he muttered the words over his shoulder.

Now that you were awake and talking, all of a sudden his own whirlwind of thoughts were lost into the backwards oblivion of his mind again. As if the past ten minutes of him building assurance was just another thought in the wind.

He sighed, finally tossing you a look when a small grin tugged at the corners of your lips. His heavy beating heart quickens.

This is where he praised his patience rather than curse it. It was moments like this where his heart swelled just by the mere look of you, how even in dim lighting the minute details in your expression was as clear as day. It did not matter whether you had just woken up from a slumber with marks and lines of his bedsheets imprinted on your cheek as a sign of well rest or if you had dirt and blood splattered across your face from intense battle. You always had been beautiful to him and this time was no different.

If Zayne hadn’t known any better, he would have already made his way over to you and held you within his arms until you inevitably fell back asleep.

But alas… he did know better after all.

“You should’ve picked the movie,” he conceded, a look of defeat painted in his expression.

“It wasn’t that boring,” you reasoned, though unsuccessfully, the smallest hint of a smile appeared on Zayne’s peach-tinted lips. “Then again, you should’ve seen it coming when you decided to put on a black-and-white silent film, but I digress.”

Zayne clicked his tongue, head shaking in a playful disapproval. “And to think you’d appreciate such fine cinema,” He readjusted himself on the bed as he said so. He was completely facing you now and just an arm’s reach away.

You ignored the darker thoughts that lingered in the back of your mind if someone were to walk in and see the position the two of you were in then.

“Just because a movie is old, doesn’t automatically mean it’s good, you know.”

“And just because you didn’t understand the movie, doesn’t mean it was bad, either.”

A rising smirk melted upon your lips, eyes glued upon the man in front of you still in his work clothes of a starched white button-down and his black trousers. Not even a single hair was out of place and you often wondered whether or not you could make a mess out of this man.

“Why did you stay, Zayne?” you asked, breaking the silence that fell for a few odd beats.

He did not answer right away. It was as you expected as you watched his own thoughts scramble to piece together a coherent string of words behind those icy dark eyes of his.

His gaze flickers away, “just wanted to make sure you were okay while you slept.”

An easy answer, to be fair, but the most obvious one he could justify. It was neither a lie nor was it the full truth, just simply an embellished rebuttal to hopefully satiate your ever rising noisiness.

“I can take care of myself, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

“I wasn’t expecting to stay until you woke up.” The words fell from his tongue before he could stop himself. You could see the grimace in his furrowed brow.

Zayne often prided himself in only speaking when he needed to. And within those very few words far and between, he always knew what to say and what to keep to himself no matter who he was speaking to. So, of course out of all people, you were the only one capable of watching him stumble over his words.

You cocked your head, “how come?”

“Got stuck in my own thoughts, that’s all.” He hummed.

“Do you do that often?” You damn well knew the answer to that question and Zayne only flickered you a look knowing the same. It seemed as if you wanted to rile him up today.

No matter, as patience was his virtue for today. And perhaps for the rest of his life.

“Only on special occasions,” he joked as his eyes met yours again.

“Our movie nights are a special occasion to you?” You mused as a chuckle leaves you. “I’m honored.”

“Is it not for you?” Zayne shot back. “Anything that has to do with you is a special occasion in my book.”

Pink dusted the apples of your cheeks, but you looked away and hopefully fast enough for Zayne to miss. And maybe he did, but one thing is for sure is that he most definitely did not miss the clear view of your red-tipped ears when you turned.

Zayne feigned a laugh and tried his awful best to suppress the smile that threatened to plaster his face.

Clearing your throat, you look back towards him, sitting up a bit higher now that you pulled yourself together.

“Tell me then,” you continued, “tell me what you were thinking about.”

His brows furrowed, “I believe thoughts are meant to be private.”

“Not all the time,” you argued with a look on your visage he could not quite pinpoint. “If anything, I share my thoughts with you all the time.”

Zayne leaned back as curiosity laced his words. “Oh, really? Enlighten me, then.”

You smiled, basically a reflex in your nature as your pulse quickened. You leaned closer, the gap between you deteriorated by the inch. You paused and your gaze fell upon his lips for the umpteenth time tonight. Reflex, again. Hesitance gripped at your neck but the words were not lost to you, “I dreamt of you…” you swallowed, though Zayne’s expression was as still as ice.

Perhaps you had finally rendered the man speechless as to you, it would have been a flawless and ever-sought-after victory, but rather you could see his calculated thoughts in his irises—dark and dilated. You would have been sucked into the black hole of him if you weren’t careful.

You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. A swallow, a nervous habit, a sign of weakness, a clearing in the woods.

“Was I in a panda suit again?” he replied in a hushed voice. 

You shook your head.

“Then what?”

“I can’t spare any more details, unfortunately.” You leaned back, regaining that space but Zayne only follows suit and shrinks that gap once more.

“Why?”

“It’s your turn now,” you pointed out. “It’s only fair.”

Zayne pursed his lips together, and yet he does not pull away, he does not cower. Instead, he stayed, hand pressing into the mattress right by your leg as if to test the waters. You had every opportunity to move away, to stop what this was from happening and yet the chance was never taken.

To have presented him with such a favorable circumstance made him wonder if his wishes were finally granted. That someone watching above decided that this was the moment for him to stop waiting and to want more.

His eyes dart to your mouth, a perfectly innocuous and coincidental look. But the corner of your lips twitch and Zayne finds himself reaching for you.

At first it was a light touch, barely grazing you with his cold fingertips as they brushed against your chin, then up your jaw, until he found purchase with your cheek in the palm of his hand. You leaned into his touch, a habit you never knew you had as he pulled you in closer.

Zayne’s thumb lined the perimeter of your plump lips, brushing over the corner as it twitched again.

“I think you know,” he sighed.

And just like his fingers, Zayne’s lips just barely brush against yours. A tease if anything, and you wanted nothing more than to curse this man and his goddamn patience. His habit was anything but a blessing as you ignored all the restraint you had built up over the years and kissed him.

Properly this time.

His hands are on your face as if they were made to be there, perfect puzzle pieces nuzzled together as he kisses you back, deeper and deeper. You moan into his mouth, muffled between your lips as he hungrily devoured your lips.

Your fingers found themselves coursing through his dark locks, messing his neatly parted hair but Zayne concluded he had not a single care in the world now that he finally had you in his arms.

Your exploring fingers eventually made their way towards his neck, earning a sharp exhale from him before they wrapped around his tie.

You bring him forward, falling back onto the mattress with him on top of you. Zayne pulls away for a brief moment, devouring the sight of you and your hair splayed all over his pillows. It was just as he imagined again and again, alone in his bed with a never ending ache he could not satiate unless he succumbed to the tug and pull of his hand.

“I thought of us,” He says once his lips find yours again. His words were a mere whisper now, “and being tender like this.”

He desired so violently for you, but now his patience is nowhere to be seen.

He tugged at his tie.

Zayne could no longer wait.

[mo0nfairy]

😍😍 OMG, I'm gonna be needing a part four to that Leon post stat.

(Love your writing it's amazing just like you are) ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎

part 1. part 2. part 3.

tw :: re4 spoilers, obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, violence, knives, tasers, guns, explosives, framing, murder, abuse of power, death of a character, physical restrainment, noncon touching, thoughts of suicide, being knocked unconscious, shit goes down basically.

⸺ thank u, honeybaby !!!!! i've been vv busy these past few days, but this man has been HEAVY on my mind. i've also been listening to playing dangerous by our lord and savior lana del rey on repeat and it had my brain conjuring up some ideas... (also this part is long so buckle up friends)

you see, you've been praying everyday to earn back those damned memories that slipped from your mind 6 years ago. but in a attempt to do so, all you can feel is a gun against your head, an explosion against your body, and dust permeating your lungs. all before the classic cut to black welcomes you. no crying mouse-ley, no crying guard-dog. just empty darkness. through the abyss, however, you are now able to unveil memories that were buried deep within you. and whether the return of these past events is a good thing or not is up to you.

you remember a late august evening. the cool air and descending leaves would calm you, but your current circumstances prevent you from any serenity. an anonymous tip to the RPD claimed that you were in possession of illegal substances. and somehow, those said drugs had magically appeared into existence within your home. this leaves you here, being driven to the station by the officer of the month, marvin branagh. despite everything, you're grateful marvin was the one to arrest you. you happen to favor him and his basic understanding of boundaries, as opposed to a certain mutt you know far too well.

it's safe to say you've now got quite the reputation in the RPD with how much trouble you get into. and especially with how quickly the problems seem to fade away. you're being escorted through the station until another officer complains to marvin about some kids with fake ID's. he leaves you by yourself at an empty desk with one hand cuffed to the armrest. the desk right beside leon's. you look to the blonde beside you. his head is rested against his arms folded upon his desk, deep in slumber. his cheek is squished against the surface of his arm, pushing his lips out into a duck-like pout. your mugshot peeks out from beneath his sleeping form. you swear through his unintelligible murmuring, you hear a gentle whimper of your name. marvin had mentioned during the drive how he was up all night looking through your case (wouldn't be the first time), but you can't find it in yourself to feel bad for him. you don't trust him. even several years ago, something within you has always prevented you from trusting him.

you fiddle with a mr. raccoon toy as 20 minutes slowly tread by. completely overcome with boredom, you peak over leon's shoulder to see your case file beneath him. maybe you could find something useful inside, like the bastard responsible for all these false claims. using your free hand, you manage to slyly slip your case folder from under his weight. not without a quiet whine of "no, y/n/n... don't leave me..." good god, was he cuddling your mugshot? (it would be the closest he could get to you physically, after all). you ignore him entirely, thanking the heavens that this man is such a deep sleeper.

opening the file, you find standard information about your case. you read through the notes leon left behind, which causes nausea to then stir in your stomach. he jotted down his worries of your case closing and not being able to keep you in the station any longer; there was ideas of any potential loopholes in the system he could take advantage of and prove your innocence. beside his rambling, there was a long list of certain ways he can frame you for crimes to reel you back into his clutches. what in the actual fuck? and just when you thought this situation couldn't get worse, you find he used pictures of your friends at the shooting range, bullet holes piercing through their paper faces.

you read through the evidence in shock, until a sickeningly-sweet tone gasps your name and pulls you out of your trance. you look over the folder to see those familiar blue eyes peering into yours. leon lights up like a golden retriever with a bone when he wakes up and you're the first thing he sees, metaphorical tail wagging and all. to dream of you and to be the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, it is pure heaven! only, instead of the early morning, love-drunk haze within his dreams, he is instead met with the heartbreaking look of horror on your face. his eyes trail down to see you holding his notes and his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. no, no, no, it wasn't supposed to be like this! it was never supposed to be like this! you were supposed to fall in love with him! you are supposed to be with him forever!

you are supposed to love him! you have to!

and you thought you've seen the worst, you thought you reached the bottom of the iceberg. but you were so, so wrong. it had been 2 weeks since you learned the truth about leon. since then, you were able to find solace within an old friend, claire redfield. not only do you adore her, but the layer of protection she had given you when you complained about the clingy cop on your hip was just the cherry on top. without leon, these 14 days were the most peace you have felt in what feels like months. you didn't know how the man who acted like he needed your presence more than air felt about this sudden separation. and to be completely honest, you didn't really care.

now, with your arm hooked around claire's, you two walk home after a night out in raccoon city. you're repeating old inside jokes and clutching your chest in heaps of rib-straining laughter. everything is full of high-spirits until you notice a certain cop car sitting in the street. claire enters your estate first, guarding you protectively while you follow her footsteps. you find (you guessed it!) no other than leon kennedy rummaging through your belongings. and the look on leon's face when he sees you with someone else is nothing short of pure anguish, sheer betrayal. he is jealous — so much so that it practically suffocates the room. you've seen plenty of emotions expressed by leon and the consequences that followed, but you've never seen first-hand what jealousy may compel him to do. considering the pictures of your friends he used as target practice, you feel as though the outcome won't be any good.

claire breaks the silence, "you disgusting pig! i'm calling my brother down here and he's gonna kick your-" her roar of anger is cut off with a sharp groan.

leon stands, taser gun in hand, as the electrodes strike into claire's body. she then falls to the ground with a loud thump, her form convulsing from the electric shocks waving through her. rushing to her side, you attempt to help her. but, you then cave into yourself when leon walks over in three large strides. and you now realize he is absolutely terrifying when he is jealous. his voice drops to a low husk as he demands you tell him who the fuck this is, a major contrast to the bubbly-puppy you're grown familiar with. you are left flabbergasted and are unable to mutter even a syllable.

you aren't even granted a mere second to compose of yourself before leon pulls a knife, plunging it deep into claire's chest. a scream of pure terror erupts from your throat. you're painted red as he relentlessly stabs your best friend, curling yourself into a corner and hiding your face in your arms. through your tear-stained vision, you see the lifeless body of claire and leon standing above her, huffing with fury like some blood-thirsty creature. something in his gaze perceptibly softens when he sees you, so scared and feeble. and it shatters his heart. after all, leon would take every life on planet earth just to see your lips curl into a smile, even once more. but, nothing could have prepared you for the words that would then leave his mouth.

he turns his body cam on. "y/n l/n, you are under arrest for the murder of... whoever this was. you have the right to remain silent. anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." you stare at leon entirely flabbergasted, but you're too exhausted to fight against him.

he bends down to you, light whispers of "you're ok, it wasn't your fault" and "i've got you, sweet angel" doing little to comfort you. with his gentle hands against you, leon proceeds to cuff you with the same softness you would use to handle a baby bird. and you let him take you away, because you are too caught up in looking at your best friend who was laughing with you just minutes ago now dead on the ground. you cry to yourself in the backseat of the cop car the whole way to the station.

by the time you get there, you are entirely in a state of shock. tears of dread stream down your cheeks, but your face is nothing short of emotionless. you are so caught up in your head, you don't even notice the whispers of other officers there. they gossip about how considering your track record, it's no wonder you'd end up here for good. a sharp glare from the man guiding you through the department is enough for them to shut their mouths. you're then brought into an interrogation room, with cameras off and no other presence besides you and this mad-man at your beck and call.

cuffed to a chair once again, leon locks the door behind him. he then drops to his knees and ties his arms around your waist, burying his head into you. it takes several seconds for reality to hit you, but you soon realize he is crying. and if you weren't restrained currently, you would've pushed him off and made him suffer a fate far worse than what claire endured. now, the two of you are sobbing together, but for entirely different reasons. you, full of grief over someone you love being murdered just moments ago. leon, full of agony over how the gleam of emotion he was so infatuated with left your eyes. all because of him.

you muster enough strength to plead to the blonde, your voice coming out through hoarse, slurred sniffles. but much to your dismay, your cries fall on deaf ears. if only leon had more morality than he did love for you.

"i'm so sorry, y/n, i just needed to hold you. even for just one last time” he picks his head up to look at you, face breaking out in a pitiful smile. “and i can't lose you. not again.” he grabs hold of your hands from behind your back and begins caressing the digits of your fingers. and the contrast between his smile and the crazed look in his eyes has you shuddering in apprehension.

"you're stuck with me to the end."

your eyes then flutter open to see a blinding white light; you begin to hear the quiet chant of a monitor beside you. where the hell am i? despite your current confusion, all you can think about is how you grieved for your best friend in the grimy cells of the RPD, how everyone turned into undead creatures just a week later, and how leon protected you from anything as small as a paper cut. you remember how several zombies overpowered him and how you took advantage of the opportunity, running like hell away and out of raccoon city. you remember the burning of your lungs, the rain on your skin, the hope of getting far, far away from this nightmare. you also remember the fear you felt when umbrella snatched you into their possession, to where you would soon forget everything that happened. including leon kennedy.

you're in the present now, as you can tell by the sheepskin jacket around your form and the hospital bed you're laid upon. it takes you too long to realize that you're safe, out of the hellhole that is los iluminados. looking down, you find a gun sitting by your hip (leon made the declaration that if you were to never wake up again, he wouldn't hesitate to end it all right then and there). you shift your train of sight to see leon at your bedside with his head in his hands while his entire body trembles with trepidation. the sight of this lovesick maniac at your side causes you to spring forward with a harsh gasp. his heartbeat skyrockets at the sudden occurrence. you're alive, and leon can't stop the tears of relief that fall from his eyes.

"hi, pretty... i'm here, you're safe now..." the smile on his face is borderline terrifying. his hands cup your face, practically clinging onto you like a lifeline.

"i remember... i remember everything..." the statement is entirely said to yourself, your gaze distant and not entirely there.

his eyebrows scrunch upwards, gaze softening (if it can even soften more than it already has). leon then pulls your face to his and molds his lips against yours aggressively, desperately. it isn't soft, sweet, or romantic in any sense. it is inexperienced, but overflowing with raw passion, need, and obsession. he only stops when the two are you are breathless and gasping for air. a dreamy sigh escapes leon's lips once he parts from you, gazing into your eyes as if you were something holy (which you are, obvi, but i digress). leon is so horrifically, irrevocably, disgustingly in love with you. and you can feel everything in his all-too overwhelming kiss.

he then engulfs you and melts into your arms like a noodle in boiling water. his light-headed, lovesick laughter fans against your neck. leon somehow pulls you impossibly closer to him, almost as if he were trying to morph the two of you together. it is too much; he is all you can feel, smell, touch. but, without a sliver of strength in your body, you are entirely vulnerable to him and his captivation.

"ashley... she didn't make it..." there’s a certain tone in leon's voice you can’t explain, but you shudder beneath it, anyway. he tells the information softly, but his voice is full of too much exhilaration to be normal. with these newfound memories, that dread returns to your stomach at the thought of what leon is capable of. what leon may have done to ashley while you were out cold.

through the abyssal darkness, your wish has been granted. you have now retrieved all lost memories.

and now, you know why you never were able to trust leon kennedy.

the end !! hehe, thanks for the fun ride babes.

HOWEVER……….. this is surely not the end of my resident evil stained brainrot. so i will not be continuing this series, but i will most certainly be pouring out everything in my RE-obsessed brain. only if u would like to see it, of course. if u do, pls send me some asks!! and thank u again !!!

[neverknoah]

Pillow Talk

18+ nicholas ruffilo x afab!reader smut

It's the morning after Nicholas returned back from touring in Europe and the two of you catch up ;)

warnings: dom! nick and sub!reader, cussing, heavy petting, digital penetration, penetration, she/her pronouns used, no use of "Y/N" only pet names like "good girl" "baby", cock warming.

AN: please please please let me know if I missed anything in the warnings! I am always open to criticism on my warnings! I never want to leave anything out that could potentially trigger someone. Lots of love and enjoy <3

The distant chirping of morning birds gradually rouses you from slumber. As you awaken, your gaze is drawn to the suncatcher hanging by the window. Its crystals reflect the morning sunlight, casting a cascade of rainbows across the bedroom. Yet, your attention is swiftly captured by the warmth of arms wrapped around your middle and the gentle breath against your neck. Snuggling closer, you find solace in the heat behind you.

Nicholas had been touring in Europe for two months, and it was a long enough stretch for you to yearn for him to be back in your presence. But, finally, after a long two months, your lover is back in your bed, and you're finally back in his embrace. 

You feel him begin to stir, and he tightens his hold on you, nuzzling his face closer into the crook of your neck, ticking you with his nose and scruff, eliciting a giggle from your lips.

“Good morning.” you whisper softly, reaching a hand back to card through his unruly bedhead.

“Am I still dreaming?” Nicholas asks, squeezing you tighter. 

“Nope,” you say, popping the “p.” “I’m very real.” you reassure him, twirling a piece of his hair. 

“God, I missed this. I missed waking up with you in my arms, sleeping in my own bed, and not having to sleep in a moving coffin on a tour bus with multiple other guys,” he groans out the last part, kissing your shoulder in appreciation. “Missed sleeping with my baby,”

“I’m so happy you’re home too. Missed you more than you can even imagine.” 

You turn in his embrace and meet his sleepy grey eyes full of love and devotion. His lips turn up in a half-smirk as he brushes a couple of rouge baby hairs from your face while you admire him. 

“Hi, pretty baby.” he smiles, cupping your jaw and caressing the apple of your cheek. 

“Hi, Nicky.” you smile. 

“There’s no way I am leaving you when we pick back up in April,” “I need you in my bed every night and every morning.” he states, dropping his hand from your cheek to your neck to trace his thumb against your jawline. You sigh at his words,

 “It kills me more than you know not to be able to go with you. I promise it does. But, you know I can’t just quit my job and go awol from school to follow you around the world,” you frowned, placing your hand atop the one he has on your neck. “But l don’t want to think about the future right now, ok? I just want to enjoy the time we have right now and lay in this bed with you and admire you a little longer.” The last part of your statement gets a bashful grimace out of Nick. You pick up the hand he hand on your neck and turn it over to give him palm a kiss, punctuating your statement. 

Comfortable silence overtakes the room while the two of you bask in the warmth of the sunlight and the warmth of each other’s body. Gentle touches and kisses full of devotion are exchanged in utter blissful silence. Just enjoying each other's presence and affection. However, the soft touches just aren’t enough to satiate the need quickly burning between your legs, so you shuffle closer to his body and slot your legs between his, hoping he gets the memo. When you glance from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes again, he understands your look, but he wants you to vocalize your needs. 

“Kiss me, please?” you whine, cupping his jaw. 

Nick's hand comes up to grab your neck possessively as his lips collide with yours in a needy, passionate kiss. He tastes like mint chapstick, nicotine, and morning breath. You’d missed the way he tasted. His grip on your neck is comforting and tight enough to make you dizzy with a need for more. The kiss quickly delves into messy territory, going from passionate and sweet to a messy dance of gnashing teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. Your hands migrate from his jaw to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his bedhead and tugging, drawing a deep moan from him. Nick’s warm, inked hand moves from your neck to snake around your back, where his other hand rests on your hip to pull them against his groin. You moan against his lips, feeling his hard cock through his pajama pants against your warm heat. He smirks against your lips, enjoying the rise he can get from you with just a little bit of making out and heavy petting. You roll your hips against his groin, pulling another deep moan from his lips that makes him draw back from the kiss. 

“God, fuck, I missed you.” he groans, rolling your body atop his so that your hips straddle his and your chest presses against his. 

“I was so fucking tired last night that I didn’t take care of you like the good girl you are, did I?” he asks, looking into your lust-filled eyes. You nod in agreement, staring into his blown-out eyes, pupils overtaking his stormy grey irises. Staring at him only fuels the fire growing in your tummy, and out of embarrassment, you fist his dark grey sleep shirt and hide your face against his neck.

“Nuh uh, none of that. Sit up,” he states, pulling the nape of your neck away from his neck so he can look at your face. You whine in protest at his action but submit. 

Your hips haven’t ceased rolling, and Nick takes notice as you create a wet mark against his pajama pants. 

“Poor baby is just so needy. Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it all better. Let’s get you undressed, ok?” he asks, playing with the hem of your sleep shirt. 

You nod too enthusiastically, and Nick snickers at your display. He slides your sleep shirt over your head, and he exposes your boobs to the crisp air of the room. He takes both of them in his hands and kneads the warm flesh in his hands before he tweaks your nipples. You whine at the stimulation, receiving a deep chuckle from Nick when you press your chest into his hands, chasing more sensation. 

Without the cover of your sleep shirt, the wet mark on your modest cotton panties is revealed to Nick’s lustful gaze. 

“Been neglecting her, huh? Haven’t given her any attention in a couple of months now. And oh, baby, she’s just begging for it. Drooling all over your poor panties.” Nick coos, rubbing his thumb over your soaked, covered entrance, rubbing tight circles into your bundle of nerves.

“Mmmhmm.” you mewl at his lewd words and grip his shoulders for stability at the sudden direct stimulation to your clit. Nick’s words get you more flustered, which sends you deeper into your submissive headspace.

Sliding your panties to the slide, he drags two fingers through your slick, then through your entrance, penetrating and curling into your heat. You gasp at the intrusion but melt into his hand, and you grind your hips with the motion of his fingers as he stokes the growing fire raging deep within your belly. Even though he’s given you a taste, you’re greedy for more.

“Nicky, please.” you whine, grabbing his wrist and giving him a pleading stare. 

“Ok, ok baby, was just making sure you were nice and wet for me. It’s been a couple of months,” he shushes you, pulling his fingers from between your legs and moving his previously occupied hand to join the other he has gripped on your waist. 

Honoring your request, he rolls your body over so that your head lands into the pillows he was previously on, caging you between his tan tattooed arms. You smile mischievously up at him, and he smirks back, craning his neck toward your ear, to whisper,

“What’s going on in that head of yours, huh?” and punctuates his question with a nip at your ear lobe. 

“You,” you gasp out. “Need you, Nicky.” you state, scratching down his shirt-clad back. 

“You have me, baby,” “Be a little more specific.” 

“Fuck, Nick!” you whine in frustration, throwing your head back into the pillows. 

“Need you to take your fucking clothes off and fuck me like the patient girl I’ve been.” you huff in frustration, clawing deeper into the skin of Nick’s back. 

“See, knew you could be a good girl and use your words. But lose the attitude, Princess.” he growls, nipping at your exposed neck.

Nick sits back on his knees as he tugs off his sleep shirt, exposing his colorful tattooed skin and the little patch of chest hair that adorns the middle of his chest. One of your favorite parts about seeing Nicky undress is his chest hair. The little patch of chest hair he keeps that trailed down his soft tummy, and his navel that disappeared under his pants makes your mouth water whenever he takes off his shirt. He wouldn’t admit it to you, but he knew how much you loved it and that he kept it just because seeing your eyes get big and glassy made him feel a little cocky and confident. Nick has always leaned more on the self-conscious side, but ever since he met you, in moments like this, where it’s just the two of you in your little love-filled bubble, he rarely feels those thoughts arise. Next to go are his pajama pants and boxers, which frees his thick hard dick. Nick definitely wasn’t long, but he sure as hell was the thickest you’ve ever taken, and every time he revealed himself to you, you couldn’t help but stare in pure awe at how beautiful he is. Nick smirks at your ogling, and you clench your knees together as he crawls back over your body, slotting his knee in between your thighs.

“Open.” he demands, pulling your hips forward, prying your legs open to his gaze. 

“There she is.” Nicholas smiles at your exposed heat. Whining at the lewd attention, you bury your face in the pillow next to you.

“What’s got you all shy, baby? I thought this was what you wanted? Come on, lemme see that pretty face.” He grabs your jaw, turning your face to his as he cranes his neck down to kiss your cheek gently. 

“There she is. My beautiful girl.” Nick smiles, foreheads touching as his lips meet yours in a tender kiss. 

“I don't want to keep you waiting. Are you ready?” Nick asks sweetly, rutting against your thigh impatiently. 

“Mmhmm.” you respond, nodding your head, hand coming up to cup his cheeks as he pulls your legs up to hook around his hips.

He gives you one last kiss, before lining up with your entrance and sliding home. Seating fully inside you, you moan at the fullness and the warmth that you’d been deprived of for months. He feels like warm velvet as your heat clenches around him. He gives you both a moment to get your bearings after being away from each other for so long that you both need a second to catch your breath.  

“God, you feel like heaven. So fucking perfect.” Nick groans, placing a kiss on your neck. You whimper at his praise as he sucks the skin of your neck, definitely leaving a hickey for you to admire later. After a while, you squeeze around him, and he jerks within you.

“Please move.” you moan out.

Hearing you loud and clear, he pulls out and trusts back into you, setting a deep, sensual pace that punches little “unghs” from your lips. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” Nick checks in with you, keeping pace. 

“So fucking full,” you whine against his lips, back arching against the mattress and breasts pushing into Nick’s sweat-slicked chest.

“Fingers, I need your fingers.” you moan out. 

“I gotcha.” 

Nick leans back just enough to unhook your legs from his hips and press them against your chest, deepening the angle he’s hitting inside you and giving him access to rub tight circles into your clit with his thumb. You gasp at the sudden change in depth he’s hitting within you and the new stimulation to your clit.

“God, you take me so fucking well. Sucking me in so deep.” Nicholas grunts as he quickens his thrusts to the pace of his fingers, causing him to slap the back of your thighs with each thrust.

“Oh fuck, Nicky. I’m close.” You grit out, hands grasping his shoulders to ground yourself. 

“I know I can feel you clenching me. Come on, baby. Give it up. Come for me.”

The band in your tummy snaps at his words, and you’re thrown head-first into your orgasm.

“There we go. Cumming so hard for me. Making such a pretty mess.” Nick states, talking you through your orgasm as he chases his own. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Where?” Nick groans, hips faltering as he approaches his peak. 

“In me. Fuck cum in me, please.” you mewl in your post-orgasm haze, grasping onto him for dear life. 

“Fuck, take it like a good girl then,” Nick growls, thrusting a few more times before spilling his load deep into you. He falls face-first into your neck, body encapsulating you in his sweaty warmth. You hold him in your shaky arms as he releases his last spurts of cum into your spent cunt. What you couldn’t keep in slips out from between your lips and slides down your inner thighs, making you shiver, but so happy. Sighing out in pleasure, you thread your fingers through his sweaty hair, letting him know he can rest for as long as he needs to against your chest. 

After a few minutes of resting your eyes and playing with Nick’s hair, he uncovers his face from your neck to look up at your fucked out state. 

“Thank you. You were wonderful, baby.” he says in thanks, peppering your collarbone with kisses. His words of affirmation and kisses stir you from your rest, and your eyes flutter open to look at him.

“Thank you. I feel incredible, Nicky.” you smile, twirling a piece of his hair between your fingers. As he pushes up on his arms to pull out of you, you stop him from doing so by grabbing his neck. He halts his movement in confusion as you begin to speak,

“Wait, can we- can you-” you stutter, trying to find the right words. 

“What is it, baby? What do you need?” Nick asks, brushing some hair from your face. 

“Can you just stay inside for a little bit longer? I just…I wanna feel close to you for a little longer. I Missed you.” you say, tears welling in your eyes. 

“Of course, but there's no need to cry, little love. I’ll stay with you as long as you need, and we can snuggle. How does that sound?” he asks, soothing you by caressing the expanse of your thighs with his calloused hands. You nod your head enthusiastically and pull his neck to lie back down on your chest, spending a couple more minutes in your little love nest where it’s just the two of you and the love you share, away from the real world. 

[chaostroberry1]

Where the sun can't shine. Apollo×male!reader

Warnings : reader is a little too possessive, Forced marriage, stolkholm syndrome, (No rape included🤬) and yeah. Pictures aren't mine! Sorry if anything is too random, I had to randomly make stuff up. like the scythe, lore, and everything else cus I wrote this till 5am. 😭

About M/N. M/n = reader.

When zues was saved from the clutches of his father, he was being taken care of by his grandmother Gaia, with the young baby getting fed goats milk. Then, Gaia had sprouted a little seedling from the ground, supposed to grow into a mini apple tree, it's purpose was to bear fruit for the young boy. But, one day, the young zues accidentally threw up some of the milk onto the seedling. And to his surprise, the seedling had turned into a full grown young god, named (m/n). Since (m/n) was already matured, Gaia had decided to give him a purpose. To train and take care of zues alongside her until he was fully matured. When the time came for zues' to fight against his father, as well as freeing his siblings—Gaia swallowed (m/n) into the earth, to let him rest for a while until the titanomochy was finished. Once everything was settled, Gaia would release (m/n), letting him out of the earth after his long slumber, and back with the other gods/deity's. Making him one of the strongest beings.—the god of destruction, the title stolen from perses.

•

(m/n), as a forever young god who stopped aging by the time he turned 18, needed to find love as a young man. Until one faithful day, he found an incredibly beautiful god, Named "Apollo", one of Zues' sons.

.

.

.

"that's outrageous! You can't just do this!" A loud cry came from zues, yelling as Hermes calmly served you some desserts. Giving you a respectful nod that you politely returned. "what is there that is so outrageous to you, dear Zues?" You munched on one of the desserts sitting on the table, your eyes showing no signs of fear, or care.

"There had been multiple complaints from the humans about occuring earthquakes, typhoons, volcanic eruptions, and so on! You know something about this, don't you?!" The old man grunted angrily, his hands flying around in the air, a funny sight. "Perhaps I do." He whines at your nerve wreckingly collected response, which was something very impressive nonetheless, your ability to stay calm in the face of challenges was both amazing and annoying to your fellow gods.

"You haven't returned my scythe back to me, dear Zues. This is my way of letting out steam. If you just hadn't lent it to dear Ares over there...which he so thoughtfully broke..then maybe I wouldn't be so pissed right now." You sneered, giving a glaring look towards the trembling figure that sat near zues, clearly wrecking his head for a response.

"I-i'm sorry, mister (m/n) sir! I accidentally just- slipped an-and broke it!" He spoke on the verge of tears, his speech now amusingly scrambled. You gave a sigh, withdrawing your gaze from the two, and sipping on some water.

"you'll have to make this up to me somehow, you know? I loved that scythe a lot." You moved yourself in a more laid-back sitting position, returning your gaze back to zues who cleared his throat, avoiding your eyes.

"yes yes... I will. I assure you that I shall repay you with something of much greater worth!" He boasted, making you raise a brow. What could he have meant by 'greater worth'? Better? Than your weapon?

"something of much greater worth? Which is what, exactly?"

"one of my children."

You stared in silence, before a vein slowly bulged on your face. The atmosphere of the room suddenly dropping. "Do you take me for a joke? Your children...greater worth than my scythe?" Zues chuckled at your angry response, while ares watched with an alarmed look. Panicking over how his dear father was testing the waters of death itself.

"of course i don't take you for a joke. But! I am quite confident that you'll be interested in picking one of them! How about it? Aphrodite? Or Athena? Maybe Artemis-"

"Apollo."

"..."

The room was now full of an eerie silence, all eyes on your figure, before laughter started booming from the old man. like he's heard the funniest joke to have ever been told after multiple centuries boredom. "Ahh! I see he has charmed you then?" You remained with a neutral expression on your face, staying composed as he laughed out loud like an asshole. Ares who just witnessed the whole thing go down, stared and blinked..He was not very used to hearing about marriage between two beings of the same sex. Not that it wasn't normal, but his half brother, and....The god of... destruction???? Getting married??? was he dreaming? Hermes who saw the look on his brother's face, maybe let out a little laugh, snickering to himself.

"you done laughing, old man?" You let out a defeated sigh, while he wiped his tears. "Alright then, but you have to stop the chaos going around! And forgive Ares for breaking your scythe. Then we have a deal."

"very well."

The next day, Apollo was brought in. The atmosphere of the room was incredibly different now that he had showed up, making things brighter than usual. "So? What was I brought here for?" He put his hands on his hips, his always confident smile plastered on his pretty face.

His eyes scanned the room, trying to read the situation at hand, before zues spoke. "Well, apollo, you see...we are kind of in a bad situation. And if we don't act on it quickly, humanity is doomed." He trails off slowly, checking Apollo's face for any signs of negativity.

The god raises a brow, tilting his head while he looks zues up and down, "Is that so? Do you want me to go down there and help them perhaps? I wouldn't mind."

"no no.....it's just..err..we just had a little..talk..with the god of destruction."

Apollo perks up, "lord (m/n)? For what exactly? And why am I included in such important matters?"

"that's the thing...we might've done something to anger the god. Which we decided to repay, for the sake of humanity. So I gave him an offer...which was to marry one of you and your siblings." Zues looked to Hermes who nodded in agreement, only sparking up Apollo's curiosity even more.

"and..?"

"and...I gave him choices....but he insisted on his future spouse being...well......you"

Apollo's eyes widen "no way!" He crossed his arms "I never consented to this! I'm not going to get married to him!" But who could blame him for being angry? He has never even seen the face of (m/n), but whenever the god's name was spoken, it would never fail to strike fear into those who hear it. The only thing Apollo has heard of was all the things the man has done, the power he holds, and why nobody dared defy him.

"I'm truly sorry, but I'm afraid we don't have a choice. He has already chosen you to be his his future spouse, and nothing shall get in the way. You know how he is. You have around 3 days to prepare for the wedding.. Don't worry, you'll both do it in private."

Apollo stormed out angrily, stomping away as he mumbled insults. How dare they do this to him. Without him knowing! He never planned on settling down for marriage, especially with a man he's never met! What has gotten into them?

Before he could think, he bumped into a tall figure, before looking up and staring into the male's eyes, instantly falling for the god before him.

"forgive me, are you okay?"

He nodded slowly, his smile slowly creeping back to his face. All the negative emotions were swallowed up by a tsunami of adoration and love. You looked a little older than him, but that's alright, you looked pretty hot to him anyway.

But Before he could speak, "Pretty little thing.." you mumbled, as your hand caressed his face, looking at him like he was a pretty trinket on display. One that you wanted to take and keep for yourself. Apollo who had just heard your comment, chuckled as he stared you in the eye, "what a bold comment for someone who's just met me."

"do you know who I am?" You grinned, as silence emerged, "I'm (m/n)." With those words alone, you received a gasp of realization from the poor god, who immediately took a step back, staring at you with wide eyes. "Say that again...?" He asked, his voice bearly above whisper.

"I'm (m/n)"

His face suddenly contorted into one of fear and disgust, immediately walking away, trying to breathe after being suffocated under your intense gaze. Unable to speak in your presence. But before he could walk away, he heard one last thing..

"pretty little thing.."

Those were the last words he heard before he opened his eyes. 3 days had passed and there he was, his hand held gently cradled by the same man that had been so disgustingly smitten by him to the point where he was forced into marriage. The only people that could watch their ceremony were a bunch of little imp creatures that looked like they were just taken out of hell. Thank (m/n) for asking hades. Then we have zues, and a few of Apollo's siblings, who all knew just as well as him—that if any of them interfered, their heads would be served on a platter at the dinner table.

He looked at you with sad eyes, before you caresses his face once again, whispering promises in his ear. How you would give him everything he could ever want, aside from a divorce...and all the things you'd do to him and his loved ones if he tried to leave.

"darling...you look absolutely stunning" you smiled, ignoring the tears forming on his face.

No response

"you must have put a lot of effort in choosing your clothes, huh?"

No response

And once you put the ring on his finger, you gave him a gentle kiss, one that he accepted without resistance. Knowing that one wrong move and all of Olympus was done for. All he could do was hope for the best, but a part of him couldn't bring himself to like you at all. You were sick in the head, and it disgusted him so much how you could kill an innocent life without giving a damn...or how you would punish those who angered you in any way.

You said he could still sleep with other people, as long as it isn't a committed relationship. But when they you get too jealous, someone will have to end up disappearing that same day. You brought to him everything he could ever ask for, that along with multiple gifts and beautiful jewelry. Only the best for your most prized possession, right?

Have I forgotten to mention that you were also a twisted enough person who always knows how to mess with his head? All your sick mind games, slowly forcing him to submit to you...before eventually seeing you in a new light. A new god.

You were both together now, and nothing could change that. So why not just...accept it? Yeah, why didn't he thinks about that from the start? It's not like he can do anything about it anyway.

With that, he began to open up, and eventually became head over heels in love with you, just as you are for him.

And now there he was, getting all pretty for you. Flowers on his hair as he dressed in the finest most beautiful robes. Getting ready to see you. He's finally come to his senses and learned to accept his new life. It wasn't that bad, he was just overreacting, and overwhelmed!

So it's all fine to him now, he's learned to accept this new life. Because no matter where he went, or where he tried to run...you'll always find him...

And drag him back to a place...where the sun can't shine.

____

Thanks for reading guys. And yes, I had to write literal lore for the reader just for this specific story. Did y'all notice that the title of the story was mentioned in the last part??? Cool right?? But anyway, that's all.

[abyssruler]

5 SUNDAYS OF KINKTOBER

1ST MASS ♱ zhongli x fem!reader x raiden ei

homily — you’ve been the most devoted servant of the anemo archon since the end of the war, not noticing the heated looks by two gods that have followed you for millennia. in your moment of loss at the sudden slumber of barbatos after the battle with durin, they don’t hesitate to take the opportunity to convert you to their religion.

communion — comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

fem afab reader, dubcon, power imbalance, sub reader, praise, subtle manipulation, fingering, oral f-receiving, dom ei and zhongli, implied venti x reader

5 sundays of kinktober

Lingering stares, stolen glances, and every excuse taken to see even a single glimpse of you.

If Morax and Beelzebub’s affections for the Anemo Archon’s priestess could be summed up into a few measly words, it would be that. Were Barbatos a more sharing god, perhaps he wouldn’t have left his two good acquaintances to pine hopelessly for his most devout follower for the better part of two thousand or so years.

He is not someone who lacks empathy, nor someone who could even be called possessive, but there is something so delightful about the idea of depraving two gods of your attention, that which only he is permitted to have.

Alas, such greed and mischief will be his undoing.

“Sleep well, My Lord. I shall await your awakening however many centuries it may take.”

(Barbatos wakes up five hundred years later to his friend corrupted by the Abyss and the knowledge that his once-devoted priestess is now the wife of two Archons. He hears the tale of how two nations nearly went to war for your hand, but the only thing on his mind is how it would have been three had he been there.)

✧

In the aftermath of the Cataclysm, you are left adrift.

There is no room for you in Mondstadt, where people will gawk and bow in reverence for the mythical figure of Barbatos’ High Priestess in the flesh. Dvalin is to be left to heal in peace and recuperate from his fight. Your Archon has fallen into a deep slumber, and while you are happy to wait for him to wake up, your mind seeks to find something else to occupy it.

Much like the wind your god favors, you wander across the land sculpted by your god aimlessly.

That is, until the winds come bearing news of the death of Baal.

✧

Beelzebub startles when you appear before her in a flash of golden leaves, bearing the scent of your homeland and something else that is entirely unique to yourself.

It isn’t your place to comfort gods, but she is a dear friend and not simply the shadow she always insists on being.

“Ei,” it’s the first time you use her true name (it won’t be the last), “I am sorry for your loss.”

And so much more than that. She has lost her sister, her companions, and has suddenly been thrust into the role of an Archon whilst her nation suffers the aftermath of the destruction that Khaenri’ah’s monsters left.

It is a heavy burden, even for a god. You would know — Barbatos had often lamented to you in the past few millennia how difficult being an Archon was, let alone being an Archon in the fallout of a war.

She approaches cautiously as first, as if unable to believe that you are truly here and not guarding Mondstadt as you so often are found to be doing. You take the initiative and offer your hand.

Her fingers close around your palm tightly. She’s shaking, you realize, so you offer your other hand with the promise of comfort.

She takes it and never lets go.

✧

Ei, you find, is a very clingy friend.

She insists you hold her hand and accompany her to every little outing and event that she needs to attend as the god of Inazuma. At night, she asks you to hold her while she pretends to fall into a deep slumber. You let her arms wrap around you, unable to say that you know she’s not asleep. She is grieving in her own way, you tell yourself, let her have this. Even if her touches linger a moment too long and her hands roam places they shouldn’t.

Your soft heart and the principles engrained into you by your god tells you of kindness and the need to help others even at the cost of yourself.

Her hand brushes against the swell of your breasts.

Let her have this.

✧

A letter bearing the seal of Liyue comes during the fifth month of your stay in Inazuma.

Ei looks up from where she nestled her face into your shoulder, shifting to get a better look at the letter and, in turn, shifting you as well from your place on her lap.

It is a thing close friends do, you tell yourself and ignore the intimate connotations such actions would bring up.

“Morax is inviting me for tea. He says he has missed my company terribly in the past few years we haven’t seen each other.”

Her grip on your waist tightens for an infinitesimal moment.

She is reluctant to let you go.

✧

With Liyue comes spring and the Lantern Rite Festival that will be celebrated for the first time since the end of the Cataclysm.

Morax is as imposing as ever in his white robes and the majestic golden horns that rests at the top of his head like a crown. He welcomes you to his side with a smile, guiding you to your seat with a hand on the small of your back that lingers for a second too long to be appropriate.

You let it slide, just as you’ve let many of his and Ei’s accidents over the past.

He makes for pleasant company, but the winds in the mountain have been strangely upset. One particular strong gust of wind tips the dainty cup of tea over, liquid spilling and dripping down the table and onto the dress you had saw fit to wear on your trip to the land of contracts.

Morax apologizes for the state of the weather today, but you reassure him that all is well.

“I suppose this was my Lord’s way of telling me to wash away the dirt of my travels. I apologize, Morax, but it seems we shall have to cut our tea session short.”

He tells you that it’s alright, suggesting a place for you to bathe in and hinting at a meeting between the two of you again tomorrow. “Perhaps, since Barbatos is no longer looking over your shoulder, I might give you a tour around Liyue?”

“That would be lovely!”

✧

You feel eyes resting on your naked form as you immerse yourself in the cold river water.

You tell yourself that you are in the wilderness, there are bound to be animals and all kinds of avian out and about, curious what the new scent of dandelions and sakura blossoms are.

Gold flashes upon your periphery, but when you turn to look, there is nothing but shrubs and trees within sight.

✧

You spend more time in Liyue than you did in Inazuma.

And when it was time to leave to return to your nation, he refuses you.

✧

Morax, unlike Ei, is a different sort of clingy.

Where Ei was soft, hesitant touches that lingered but never stayed, hidden stares and roaming hands when she thinks you aren’t paying attention; Morax is as hard and unmoving as the element he rules over.

“Please, Morax, I hardly think this is appropriate...”

And it is telling how much gravity those words hold, given how you never spoke such words to Ei no matter how much her hands swept over your breasts and thighs and lingered dangerously close to that one spot between your legs.

“Is it?” he asks, breath ghosting over the skin of your neck, sharp teeth brushing over the sensitive spot but never clamping down—yet. “I should think this constitutes as a simple activity between friends. Or was Beelzebub wrong in her assumptions when she mentioned how close the two of you have gotten in the last few months?”

“No, but—ahh...” Your voice veers off into a mere whimper when he presses his tongue to your pulse and licks a long stripe from the junction of your shoulder all the way to the underside of your jaw.

“Or did she lie when she said how you spend every night in her bed, letting her touch wherever she pleases without voicing a single complaint?”

“I-It wasn’t like that. I—Morax!” you exclaim when you feel one of his large hands grabs the inside of your thigh, shifting close (far, far too close) to that sensitive place between your legs. “You musn’t—”

He ignores your admonition and uses his other hand to pry your legs apart. “So she lied, then. I shall deal with her when the time comes, but for now...”

His hand starts moving closer. Frantic and much too distressed to use your vision, you weakly grab his wrists to spot the inevitable.

You feel his chuckle reverberate from where your back is pressed to his chest. It is all the more humiliating when he subtly bounces his leg that you’re sitting on to shift you closer to him.

His hand wrenches free from your light grip and clasps both of your wrists in one, utterly dwarfing yours in size. You try to squirm away from his grip, but in doing so, you unintentionally brush your clothed cunt over the hand that had previously been resting on your thigh.

Your mouth parts at the sudden contact, unconsciously clenching at nothing and feeling your face warm at the breathy laugh that escapes Morax’s lips.

“Don’t try to deny this, deny me just as you have done for thousands of years.” His teeth slides tantalizingly slow over your neck. “If the High Priestess of Barbatos didn’t want this, she would have used her power that once cleaved mountains to escape from my grasp.”

His fingers glide over your clothed slit. This time, you let him with only a mild protest that sounds weak even to your own ears.

You feel him smile against your skin.

✧

You awake to the feeling of a knot building up in your stomach and the cool breeze over your naked form.

Golden eyes pin you in place. Only then do you register the soft, squelching sound that’s coming from between your legs.

In your drowsy, sleepy state, you can do nothing but pant at the foreign feeling overtaking your senses. “M-Morax, what...”

Your mind blares in alarm when you feel his fingers curl inside you.

But the alarm is replaced by the sheer, mind numbing pleasure that follows. You involuntarily let out a keen mewl that echoes around your chambers.

Something hard presses against your thigh.

You feel him thrust his fingers in and out of you at a brutal pace that has your head spinning and eyes crossing while Morax leans above you and licks his lips at the sight of you slowly becoming undone.

“M-Morax, I don’t want to... this is... wrong—” His thumb reaches up to rub circles on your neglected clit.

“Hm? But you’re doing so well. Doesn’t it feel good?” He soaks in the sound of your cries. Not stopping the pace of his fingers even when you’re begging with drool coming out of your lips.

“I don’t—please, please, wait—” He silences you by covering your lips with his and swallowing the protest that dies once he bullies his tongue into your mouth.

By the gods, you taste as heavenly as he’s always thought.

His hips begin rutting against the softness of your thigh, his tip leaking precum and smearing it across your skin. And with all the debauchery that a god can posses, he conjures the image of you covered in his seed. Thick, white spurts of his seed dripping down your face and slipping between the valley of your breasts. And he wants it so bad he is willing to burn the world for it.

“Morax,” you cry out, legs shaking and clenching around his fingers as your impeding climax approaches.

He shudders at his name being called out in such a wanton tone, grinding his erection harder against your soft thigh. Suckling at the exposed skin of your neck to mark what is his.

“F-Feels s’ good, I-I’m sorry... I’m sorry...” you mutter intelligibly, fingers clenching the sheets and nails almost tearing through the fabric. You legs start spasming violently, heart racing and breath hitching at the coiling tension threatening to release in your belly.

He watches you with rapt eyes and savors the lewd sounds of your cunt welcoming his thick fingers, your slick running down his wrists that he will make sure to lick clean after.

“L-Lord—” His cock twitches as he imagines you calling out to him with such reverence that was once reserved for a certain god. “Lord Barbatos!”

The coil snaps.

Your back arches, letting out a loud cry as tears spill down your cheeks.

Morax feels his smile turn to stone. A twisted feeling creeping up on him, the kind that makes his want to destroy and be the god of war he was once called millennia ago.

Lord Barbatos. He nearly scoffs. What does that drunkard have that he does not? He will have to make you see sense, but not now, not with this ugly emotion clawing at his chest and threatening to break loose.

He leaves you panting on the bed to reign in his bubbling anger, not confident in his ability to control himself at the state he’s in now.

As your high begins to die down, you nearly become sick with the realization that you had enjoyed coupling with someone who wasn’t your god.

✧

You leave before the sun rises.

Ei welcomes you with a surprised but pleased smile—until she catches sight of your harried state and the bruises beginning to form on your neck and across your collarbones.

“Who did this?” Her voice could be likened to a storm gathering on the horizon. Inescapable and deadly.

You collapse into her arms in relief.

✧

You were hesitant to tell her, but she is insistent, and so you cave.

The only thing that stopped her from marching into Liyue’s borders and declaring the second coming of the archon war was you.

She is gentle with you, comforting you with her embrace and letting you do as you pleased.

(And if she takes advantage of your harried emotions by indulging herself to your addicting scent and running her hands over your velvety skin, well, there is no one there to disapprove of her actions. Much less a certain alcoholic god to snatch you away from her grasp.)

Inside, she is seething. Angry and bitter that Morax got to have a taste of you before she did. To mark your skin with bruises and hear your debauched moans as she pleasured you herself. There shall be no interruption within the halls of Tenshukaku, only you and her and the sounds you will make once she gathers the courage to take you for herself.

“You are always so good to me, Ei.”

Perhaps that time will come soon. Ei would like to cover the unseemly bruises made by Morax on the expanse of your flesh with marks of her own.

✧

She’s more handsy than usual. It’s the first thing you note after laying down the bed beside her and immediately being smothered into her chest.

You feel her hands running down your back, the thin robe she insisted you wear every night leaving nothing to imagination. Her touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake, leaving you shivering but not from the cold.

Ei buries her nose into your hair and inhales like it’s the last time she’ll get to smell your scent — perhaps it is. After what she plans to do tonight, you might just denounce her name as you did Morax’s.

It starts small. Lips trailing over your hairline and fingers ghosting over every inch of exposed skin, light as a feather. You want to say that this is merely her being touch-starved as she always is, but there is something in the air, something heated and coiling with unmistakable tension.

Her hand lands on the soft flesh of your rear.

You pull away from her, hands on her shoulders to keep her at bay.

“Ei, what are you—” She cuts you off with a searing kiss.

Your lips taste as divine as she always imagined them to be.

Her hands are quick to untie the knot of your robe, pulling them away in one swift motion and leaving you naked for her to see.

You flinch away from her kiss when cool air brushes over your nipples. Heat making its way to your face once you realize the state of your undress.

Ei grabs your chin and forces you to look into her vivid purple eyes.

And you finally see what you have been resolutely ignoring these past few months.

There is an unmistakable want in her dilated pupils, gaze lidded with lust and the corners of her eyes crinkled with something you couldn’t hope to discern (is it desire, possessiveness, or—love?)

Her lips find their way to your collarbones, nipping at your skin and teeth biting just hard enough to mark but not draw blood. Your hands land on her shoulders, not knowing whether you should push her away or pull her close.

Your breath hitches when her mouth latches on your nipple, her hand moving downwards to a place you know should be reserved for your god only but—

A whine leaves your lips when her fingers begin to rub circles on your clit. Her pace begins to build up, tearing gasps and moans from your throat as she eases you to a painfully quick climax.

Your toes begin to curl against the sheets, hips bucking up to gather more stimulation. Your mouth opens in preparation for a cry—

But then she pulls away.

You hadn’t realized you’d been crying until you look down at her and see only a blur.

“Please, Ei, please I—”

You wail when her tongue lands on your slick folds, lapping at them and grinding the tip of her nose at your abused clit.

She inhales, long and slow, and nearly comes undone from your scent alone. Her hands grab your thighs to pull them further apart, burying her face deeper in your cunt, tongue making obscene noises as she continues to sloppily lap at your slit.

“Feels s’ good... Ei, please... please, I want—” Your pleas turn into incoherent babbles when her tongue begins to fuck into you.

Your slick smears across her face, dripping down her chin and into the wet spot that’s gathering on the bed. Ei will have it remain unwashed for the rest of eternity.

Your hands find purchase in her hair, tangling your fingers in the thin strands and pushing her even closer to your cunt. Loud, shaky breaths escape your lips, thighs closing around her head as the heat in your abdomen begins to build to a crescendo.

Ei feels your thighs shake, so she moves her tongue to your clit and starts suckling at it. One long, slender finger enters you with a wet squelch that she’ll repeat in her head for centuries to come.

You come undone on her face, hot spurts of liquid squirting out of you, and Ei is all too happy to run her tongue over the mess you’ve made and swallow your release.

Silence reigns save for the crude sounds of her lips on your folds.

As you sit in the wake of your high, you cannot even bear to think of your god.

✧

You had thought Morax would come for you as soon as he realized you left. A part of you hopes he had, if only so you can finally sort out the confounding feelings that swirl in your chest, threatening to drown you with their sheer intensity.

Ei busies herself with her nation, working on a project she has yet to tell you about.

“I will reveal it to you at a later date,” is always her reply whenever you broach the topic.

It leaves you feeling a sort of fondness, watching her work in a way she had never been able to when she was still a kagemusha.

On the fourth month after you left Liyue, she presents a puppet to you.

“This is Kuni.”

You stare down at the young looking boy who greatly resembles the former Electro Archon, from the soft swell of his cheek to the smile he greets you with. But there is also a hint of you in the slope of his nose and the shape of his lips.

And you wonder, just for a moment, if she had made him with something else in mind other than the keeper of the gnosis.

That night, in the middle of languid kisses and groping hands, you playfully ask her if this means the two of you are parents now.

She splutters and turns red in the face, but she never denies your question.

✧

With Morax comes the shaking of the earth and Tenshukaku in a frenzy as soldiers frantically begin arming themselves at the threat of the Geo Archon himself.

Thunder rolls across the clouds, threatening to bring unforgiving storms and strike anyone who dares to defy it.

Beelzebub meets him halfway across Inazuma City, a crash of thunder against rock that could be heard even from Seirai Island.

You are left in Tenshukaku with the puppet who has never called you his mother but looks at you like you are. He cries when he sees tall stone spires rising to the sky and flashes of lightning that bring golden pillars to the ground.

You hold him close and press a comforting kiss to the top of his head, this boy who has your lips and your nose and perhaps the crinkle in your eyes when you smile.

✧

It takes two days and two nights for the earth to settle and the skies to clear.

Ei returns with Morax, a compromise between them.

You don’t disapprove of it.

✧

You feel your insides get split apart as Morax sinks into your heat.

His cock is the same girth as two arms and has scales that only a dragon could possess. By the time he buries his whole length inside you, you’re nothing but a drooling, crying mess.

Ei kisses your temple from where she has you on her lap, legs twined with yours to keep them apart and two fingers spreading your folds to let Morax stretch you open.

“You’re doing so well taking me in,” he chuckles when he sees your fucked out state, brushing a hand over your face and wiping away the sweat that had gathered.

He starts pulling out, feeling your walls clench down on him and nearly coming undone at the simple action. Ei toys with your breasts, tweaking your nipples between her fingers as she covers your neck with sloppy, wet kisses.

Morax slams his hips against your so suddenly, it leaves you crying out in both pain and pleasure as the tip of his cock presses against your cervix. He sets a furious pace as he thrusts into you, the ridges of his draconic cock sliding against your clit with every snap of skin against skin that echoes in the room.

“My Lord...” You feel him still. Between the haze of pleasure in your mind and the tight knot building in your stomach, you don’t notice this. “Lord Morax, please—”

A deep, guttural groan reverberates from his throat. With one, quick thrust, he slams himself balls-deep into your cunt and enjoys the way you sob as he keeps hitting the entrance to your womb, leaving you heady and unable to form a single coherent thought.

You register the feeling of a hand snaking down your breasts into the spot between your legs.

Ei rubs circles into your clit, her fingers setting a fast pace that has you seeing stars and babbling wordless pleas. “S’ good, I wanna... Ei—Morax—please, more please, don’ wanna stop—”

He grabs your thighs in a bruising grip and starts pounding into you at a merciless pace that has you crying and drooling, tongue lolling out as you failed to decide whether it’s pleasure or pain that’s making your toes curl and back arch in ways you never would have thought was possible.

A mouth latches on to that sensitive spot beneath your jaw and sucks, leaving you gasping and legs twitching as the knot in your belly tightens until it threatens to unravel before you. Ei licks at the bruise beginning to form on your skin and watches the way your face contorts as you approach your release.

“‘m so close... so close—”

Her fingers press hard against your clit just as Morax hits that spot in you that has you convulsing and creaming around his cock, mouth open in a silent scream and tears running freely down your face.

With a grunt and a choked off gasp, he cums inside you, stuffing you full to the brim, cum leaking out your hole even when he hasn’t finished emptying himself in you.

He pulls out after a few quick thrusts that has you whining from overstimulation and pleasure. As soon as his cock is slips out, his thick, white seed pours out your hole. You clench down on nothing, feeling empty at the absence of him inside you.

Ei scoops his cum into her fingers and pushes them back inside you, a lewd squelching sound reverberating in the room as she fucks his cum back into you with her fingers.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, high pitches pleas for them to stop going unheard. Soon, your legs begin quivering as your second release draws near. Morax’s cum mixed with yours drip down the slit of your ass and into the sheets below, making an utter mess.

It comes quick and just as mind-breaking as before. Harsh puffs of breath escape your lips, a gasp that turns into a sob when Ei shoves her fingers knuckles-deep and curls.

Your walls clench down and clamp violently around her fingers in a vice as your climax reaches its limit.

You’re nothing but a drooling mess, head spinning and eyes lidded and blurry with tears, a fog over your mind after experiencing two consecutive orgasms.

In a daze, you faintly register hands cradling you close and lips brushing against your temple, murmured words of praise and adoration spoken to your skin.

You fall asleep between two bodies, covered in sweat and release but in the most content state you’ve ever felt in thousands of years.

✧

Five hundred years later, Venti appears before you and starts whining about you replacing him with Ei and Zhongli.

You laugh and embrace your dearly missed god, telling him that he still holds a special place in your heart and that you’ll always be his Priestess.

5 sundays of kinktober

word count — 4.4k

taglist — @pardofeliscalico @monicahar @monikidk @sunhareskies @thearcanafan @kaeyats @luvrsthrist @xinii @w9vyy @ineedavirtualboyfriend @holynix @karasuneo @rei-vi @shuvvs @miss-fantazmagoria @bunnlatte @shironakuronatasa @leleforpresident @scaranaris-lil-niko

[rosiesthehat]

wrap me in your arms like i'm made of glass.

Pairing: Lorraine Warren X Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Tags: possessed!reader, exorcism, self flagellation / self harm, disordered eating, mommy issues, hurt/comfort!

Summary: You've been fighting an evil spirit on your own for months, until an angel falls on your doorstep, and you no longer have to fight alone.

Author’s Note: This one is sort of dark, ee!! Sometimes a girl just needs to write an exorcism, I guess!! This is my first go of anything horror/angsty, so uhm.. it might be kinda bad. This is also on my AO3!!

It hates the cold.

As do you.

Yet somehow, as you lay by the flung-open bay window, watching the tiny, crystalline flakes fall to cover your once-blossoming hydrangea bushes, you feel your head silence for the first time in weeks. The lightweight blanket draped over your knees isn’t much help to fight the tremble in your fingers, which are wrapped tightly around a mug of hot chocolate— you’ve been falling victim to your sweet-toothed cravings lately, considering this very well may be your last chance to do so.

The television across the room hums whatever country music variety show is on this early in the morning; a few cars pass by outside, splashing up muddy sludge into your front yard. You can’t help but wince at the action. You once dedicated so much time to perfecting your lawn, just for all of that hard work to become irrelevant in a few short hours. It’s probably been decades since this town last saw any snow. You’d never seen so much as a cold rain in your few decades of living. It seems that Hell’s finally frozen over. It’s a shame you never paid attention in church long enough to find out what to do in such an event.

You’re feeling weak. This isn’t a new sensation. Weeks’ worth of sleep interrupted by family photos flung off of walls in the middle of the night truly does begin to take a toll on a young woman’s body. Not that you ever had much energy to begin with, what with the early mornings spent tending to horses and late nights attending to sick barn cats.

It’s quite shocking just how much energy a demonic being inhabiting your body saps up.

It only takes a few minutes, lounged by the window and focus blurring out on the white mounds of snow, for you to loll off to sleep, cocoa spilling onto your favorite quilt, but you’re not lucid enough to notice.

It’s a very gentle knock at your door that rips you from your slumber. Your encounter with whatever beast has been haunting your every move has made you an incredibly light sleeper. At this point, you could be woken by a light breath against your face. You believe you already have, a few times now.

It’s incredibly difficult for you to stand from your position on your once pristine, now chocolate-stained sofa, but you make it upright eventually. The blood comes rushing to your head at the sudden swing upright, your feet heavy against the cold hardwood floor that you never bothered to buy a rug for. Your feet were calloused enough, there was no need for comfort for something already so broken.

You cling desperately to the heavy front door that, by some act of God, you manage to swing open.

The light you’re met with is blinding. You’re not sure if it’s the sun’s rays beating off of the snow and directly into your eyes, or if the woman at your doorstep just naturally emanates such a light.

“Hi there.” Her voice is so kind and warm that your entire body feels like you’ve been sat next to a fireplace. Once your eyes fully adjust to the light surrounding your savior, you notice that her face holds a slightly bewildered look, but like she’s trying to hide it. To remain professional, to not let you in on the fact that there’s quite literally a demon hanging over your shoulders.

You take her outstretched hand in your own, shaking it weakly, and as you do, her expression is replaced by a frown. “I’m Loraine Warren,” She hums, wrapping another hand around yours, seemingly trying to bring heat to the five icicles you call fingers. “and you’re freezing.” You muster up a lackluster smile, ruminating in the warmth from the hands wrapped around your own for as long as she’ll allow. Your visitor doesn’t pull back until you do, to let her into your home.

Mrs. Warren has clearly not come prepared for this entirely unforeseen snow, seeing as she’s dressed in a plaid, tea-length dress, with only a light cardigan hung from her shoulders. There wasn’t a single weatherman on any of your very limited channels that had predicted this sort of weather this far south of the Mason-Dixon.

“Thank you…” You begin, leading the taller woman to your living room, where you practically fall to your position on the sofa again. “For coming to meet with me, Mrs. Warren. I’m so very appreciative.” Your eyelids are heavy, and your cheeks hurt with the strain of a smile, but you still force yourself to engage as delicately as you can with this woman, both for the beauty that you find so enticing, and for the fact that she very well may save your life.

The affliction you’d been suffering for the past few weeks of your life… you weren’t entirely sure what it was. At first, waking up standing in the kitchen and holding a knife to your own throat was something you could pass off as a traumatizing night of sleepwalking. The sudden headaches and physical aversion to reading your leatherbound, heavily annotated bible made you think you had suffered a concussion from falling out of bed one too many times.

Seeing the Warrens on your favorite morning talk show was what led you to raise your own suspicions. The way they spoke of a young girl in Poughkeepsie who had begun levitating in the middle of the night, who began seizing when she was read the word of God… You couldn’t help but see the similarities.

You couldn’t have possibly called the demonologists sooner.

On the phone, you spoke to a man. He was much heftier with the way he spoke, clearly the extroverted salesman of the team. He seemed skeptical, and unwilling to leave his home in New England, as he had every right to be. You very well could just have the flu. But you knew, deep down, that you didn’t, and it had to be them. It had to be. You had no other hope of surviving against your oppressor if you had to fight it alone.

Your frantic begging must have been loud enough for the people close to Ed Warren to hear, because as soon as you finished your rambling about how miserable you were, a distant, soft voice came from the other side of the phone.

Ed, listen to her. She needs us.

The line then went muffled, he had placed his palm over the receiver in hopes to hide the fact that they had begun arguing about you. You couldn’t quite make out what was said, only that the woman, Lorraine, very much wanted to come to visit you, and Ed did not.

It was as if by miracle that Lorraine showed up at your door only a day after your phone call.

“Please, call me Lorraine.” The older woman returned, standing above you. “May I ask why you have the windows open? It’s just so nasty out there… it may affect your health, sweetheart.” There’s a little glimmer in her eyes when she presses the back of her hand against your forehead, which, much to her surprise, was just as cold as your hands.

A stubborn frown returned to her pink lips, and Lorraine quickly closed the two windows behind you.

“The cold helps.” You say plainly as Lorraine moves around your vintage furniture to close the windows on the opposite side of the room.

“What do you mean?” She returns to your side, placing your quilt atop your knees and finding another to cover your shoulders. She then sits on the sofa next to you, delicately maneuvering herself underneath your blanket as well.

You blush a little, hiding your face behind the large mug that you’d once discarded.

“This… thing. Whatever’s inside me… it hates the cold.” You reply, staring down at your feet, which wiggle to regain the feeling that the cold air had taken away.

“How do you know?” The clairvoyant muses, reaching up to pet the hair that’s turned into a mat behind your head. You’ve had a horrible go of taking care of yourself lately, with things as simple as brushing your hair disappearing from your mind for days at a time.

“It started snowing just last night… Since then, it’s been quieter. I’ve been able to take control of my life again, at least a little bit.” You hum, leaning into her touch, which has dropped to press comfortingly to your shoulder. “But as soon as I lit a fire, tried to get warm, it all came back. The chaos. The… evil.” You shudder to remember the noise that’s filled your head for the past few days. The screams, the whispered urges to harm yourself and others. It’s like you’ve been sent to your own personal Hell, like God finally punished you for the way that you look at women like Lorraine. 

“You’re a very perceptive girl.” Lorraine offers you a smile, and you find that it may not only be the cold that calms you. Her presence has offered you more solace than any pain killer or chamomile tea has offered you in your entire life.

You try to giggle, try to accept her praise, but her warm touch, paired with your general lack of sleep, has made it truly impossible for you to remain at all upright. You slump over, dropping your cocoa once again, head landing on Lorraine’s shoulder.

“I believe you.” She whispers quietly, maneuvering your shoulders so that your head lays on her lap. The words are all you’ve ever needed to hear. To be assured that you’re not going crazy is all you need in order to finally fall asleep, and the hands that press warmth into your neck and forehead are the best medicine you could take.

You fall asleep in less than a second, your ears muffling all the noise in the room, yet you can still hear your visitor humming along to the tv as your muscles relax into the sofa.

♱

A soft whine escapes your lips before your eyes open. It’s a combination of bright light and tugging at the back of your head that wakes you up, and as much as you detest being stripped from the best sleep you’ve had in at least month, you feel rested enough to accept it.

“I’m so sorry. Keep sleeping, little one.” Your brain fights to register who the voice belongs to, but judging by the fact that you’ve only received one visitor in the past weeks, and the fact that no visitor you’ve ever met has had such a honey-coated voice, you remember right away. It’s Lorraine.

It’s Lorraine, and the light tugging you feel is a comb being pulled through the hair that hasn’t met such a thing in far too long. You’re hit by a sudden wave of embarrassment, knowing that the state of your hair must make you look so pitiful, like a child that can barely take care of herself. You hide your face in your hands, whining once again, hiding from the yellow light of a lamp above you, and from the fact that you look such a mess in the presence of one of the most well-kempt women you’ve ever met.

“I’m all done.” She purrs softly, running her fingers through your now untangled hair, tucking it behind your ear. You sit up, face beet red as you do so. You’re sure you’ve never felt more embarrassed in your entire life.

“Thank you…” You stutter out, voice heavy with sleep. “I’m sorry for falling asleep. I just… haven’t in quite a while. I hope I’m not taking too much of your time.” You glance up at her, eyes squinting to view the porcelain skin adorned by a smile. Lorraine Warren must truly have the kindest heart in the entire world to spend time taking care of someone she’s only just met.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” She says quite firmly, pressing her hand against your cheek, and you can feel yourself becoming addicted to her touch. “I want to take care of you.”

You feel a warmth in your cheeks, and a certain tingling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve never heard these words before, and the last time anyone had earnestly taken care of you was… well, you don’t really remember. It was probably in your early childhood, but even then, you weren’t too sure.

The butterfly wings in your stomach are quickly replaced by a different sensation, a large growling that just about reverberates through the living room. You’re filled with another bout of humiliation, and grip your stomach tightly. You’re also not too sure when you last ate.

A ginger hand presses against your stomach as well, and it dawns on you just how close to the older woman you’ve become. She’s pressed against you so much that you’re nearly sitting in her lap, and her other arm is wrapped around so very tightly around the small of your back. Lorraine is quite the touchy woman, and you couldn’t be more appreciative of such a character trait. You lean into her hands greedily, head tilting over to rest on her shoulder once more.

“Can you stand?” She hums, pressing her cheek to rest on the top of your head.

You nod slowly, not quite too sure that you’re telling the truth, but if Lorraine wants you to stand, you’ll stand. And you do, pushing hard into the ground, thankful that before all of this mess you were at least regularly active, and your body was fairly well maintained from throwing bales of hay.

“Good girl.”

The words make your knees go weak, weaker than they already are, and you falter a little in your steps. You thank God that Lorraine has such a strong grip around your waist and is able to keep you upwards.

“Show me your kitchen?” The clairvoyant asks softly, and while you do just as you’re asked, her steady gaze washes over each little family portrait, each corn husk doll, even the sunhats you’ve worn so much that they’re full of holes. One may see her wandering eyes and find her to be a terrible snoop, but Lorraine is doing her job, gathering every piece of evidence she can to use against your demon. She wants to know everything about your past and present so that she may rid you of this retched thing.

She gets no clue as to what suffering has conflicted this household from the photos of a quite happy family hanging from your walls, but she can sense it in the way the house creaks with her every step. There’s an evil lingering in these walls, and Lorraine can feel it.

“I’m… I’m not sure there’s even any food that’s still edible.” You speak gruffly as you arrive in the kitchen that overlooks your barn that was once such a brilliant red, and now stands with peeling paint and water damage. It’s a proper metaphor for your own status. You haven’t been in this room in many days, and the sight of wilting flowers and rotting vegetables depresses you immediately.

“I’m sure I can make do.” Lorraine shoots you that oh-so very reassuring smile once again, and leads you to sit at the dining table that’s only ever been set for one. “When was the last time you ate?”

It’s a dreaded question. A question that, once again, you don’t have a clear answer to. You think the last thing you ate was a handful of boiled peanuts… or was it oatmeal? Lately you had only had incredibly unpleasant dreams about food, and your brain has been so occupied by so many voices, that sustenance was the last thing on your mind.

“I’m not sure.” You muster in response, and Lorraine’s frown returns once again. She’s not mad at you, only furious at the creature that’s taken hold of you, keeping you from living a healthy life.

“You need to keep yourself fed.” Lorraine speaks softly, peeking out from behind the cabinet she’d begun rummaging around in. “Communing with the being, and an eventual exorcism, will take a lot of energy.”

She speaks so calmly about something that is so terrifying to you. You weren’t raised Catholic, and didn’t know much about their traditions, but the interview that you had watched of the Warrens spelled an exorcism out to be one of the most dangerous, mortifying acts that one could participate in. You trust Lorraine entirely though, and are filled with the knowledge that if she has to do such a thing, she will treat you delicately, and cause as little harm to you as possible.

It's only a few groggy minutes before there’s a plate laid in front of you, and by some act of God Lorraine has found another chair to sit in. She’s pulled up right next to you, and while you’re a bit surprised she hasn’t chosen to sit across from you, her choice is very welcomed. The heat from your plate warms your face, and you press your hands against it in hopes that they’ll warm as well.

“It looks delicious.” You look up to the women through your heavy eyelids, weakly grabbing hold of your fork to start lifting potatoes to your mouth. “I can’t believe you were able to make this so quickly! Thank you so very much.” You smile to her, licking your lips, stomach so very grateful to the woman beside you.

“I’ve always been a good cook. My husband is never very appreciative of my skills.” She laughs softly, but you can tell it’s something that truly upsets her. If you were lucky enough to live in a home with Lorraine Warren and have her food for every meal, you consider yourself to be in Heaven. From your short conversation, Ed didn’t quite seem to be a wholly grateful man. “You’re not married.” She then says, taking a sip from the old whiskey glass that’s now filled with water.

Her words are more observational than questioning, and it causes a twinge of discomfort within you. You’d always been questioned for your spinster-like nature, women in your church always wanted to set you up with their sons or nephews. You’re such a pretty girl, they’d say, why on God’s green Earth aren’t you dating anyone?

It was impossible to tell them that you’d never want to marry a man, even if someone held a gun to your head.

“No…” You reply awkwardly, and the word turns into a yawn, leading you to cover your mouth with one hand. “I’ve just… never met the right person, I guess.” You huff, kicking your elbow up on the table and resting your chin on your fist to keep yourself propped up. Who knew something as simple as lifting a fork to your mouth would be so difficult. “Or… Well…” You start again, feeling almost too comfortable in Lorraine’s presence to share a little more. “I’ve just, never really been interested in anyone.”

When you drop your fork to your plate with quite the dramatic tink, that same loving hand returns to your lower back. Lorraine has taken your fork between her perfectly manicured fingers, and lifts another bite towards your lips, which you not-so-gracefully accept.

“Well, that is a shame.” The brunette responds, and though you can’t see it, there’s the tiniest hint of a smirk on her face. She seems to be a bit too pleased by your loneliness. “I do hope you’ll find someone soon. You are so deserving of love.”

You’re not sure if you’re deserving, but you’re damn well desperate for it.

Lorraine continues to feed you, lifting small bites of vegetable to your lips while whispering her gentle praises after each bite. Your face is now permanently pink, with each of her cooing words turning you into a little mess beneath her. You’re connected at her hip once again, legs tangled around each other under your gingham tablecloth. You’re so very lucky that you never receive any visitors, for you deign to think of anyone’s reaction to your little displays of minute affection.

“I was hoping I might stay with you here. I always find it more helpful to fully integrate myself into the lives of someone I’m helping.” She hums once you’ve finished all of your food, and she can move onto her own. You lean against her shoulder once more, eyes closed, yet you’re completely awake. Her sentence is entirely shocking, yet you’re completely excited by it, and couldn’t possibly accept her request quicker.

“Yes, of course!” You hear the over-enthusiasm in your voice, and hope you haven’t come off too strongly. You sit up to meet her gaze, blushing just from the way she looks at you so sweetly. “I only have the one bedroom, I’m afraid. It’s a bit of a mess at the moment, but I can wash the sheets, and you can sleep there! I spend most of my time on the sofa anyway, I’m happy to sleep there.” You nod cheerfully, hoping with all of your heart that she’ll not be too deterred by your excitement.

“Don’t be silly.” She smiles, lifting her hand to gently pet your hair, her fingernails grazing your scalp in a way that sends a tingle down your spine. “I’ll take your bed, but only if you’re in it as well. If that’s alright with you, of course. I just want to keep an eye on you.” She winks, and it’s that moment that you feel your soul leave your body. You choke on your own saliva, coughing a few times. You’ve been sitting so close to Lorraine today, that you shouldn’t feel so strange about sharing your bed with her, yet it brings a worried feeling to the pit of your stomach. When you explore that feeling more, you’ll find that it’s really excitement, and a desperation to sleep next to another body that you’d never knew you had.

“That’s fine by me…” You stutter, trying to hide the eager smile that’s threatening your lips. You chew on the insides of your cheeks, your hands finding their way to some fabric, not knowing if it’s the tablecloth or your shirt or maybe Lorraine’s skirt. Whatever it is, you grip it tightly, trying to force all of your delight on an object rather than voice it. “It’ll be good to share each other’s’ body heat… it gets so cold at night even without the snow…” Your voice is trembling a little, betraying how fast your heart is racing.

You’re ready for the sun to go down now.

But you still have a few hours of sunlight left, and Lorraine fills it with questions about your family history, about your experience with this malevolent being, and just about your daily life. She wonders what it is that you do for fun in such a small town, and you feel shy to admit that you rarely leave the house except to go to church. That leads her to talk about her own religion, and it’s so mystifying to hear her speak about her passion for Christ. She speaks in such a profound way, like she’s spent time as a pastor, though you’d never once met a female pastor. Lorraine is certainly a better speaker than all the old men that lead prayer at church and quote the same bible verses into monotony.

She proudly shows you the rosary around her neck, explaining the story behind it with the most adorable sparkle in her eyes. When you take the metal in your hands, wanting to share in her passion, it burns. Burns like you’ve just pressed your hand flat into the cooktop of an oven. You recoil in pain, but when Lorraine attends to your palm, there’s no sign of a burn.

“It… It stings.” You whine, looking down at your hand in disbelief. You’ve never felt such pain, and the fact that it’s not left a visible mark is messing with your head so much that your eyes begin to well with tears.

“I know it does, sweetheart. I know.” Lorraine hums, holding you tightly, lifting a thumb to wipe at your tears. “Ointment won’t help it, I’m afraid. It’s the spirit reacting through nerve induction. It will go away soon. I promise.” The demonologist quickly stuffs the rosary down the neck of her blouse, wanting to hide everything that causes you pain. Lorraine hates to see you in such a state, and though you don’t comprehend anything about this spirit, her brain is working overtime to plot a strategy to rid you of this beast.

You sit together for another half hour, Lorraine consoling the pain that has long since disappeared thanks to her sweet whispers and distracting stories. You nearly fall asleep on the sofa once again, and she can see it, so without having to ask, she takes you up the stairs and to your bedroom.

“I’ll just go down the hall to get myself ready for bed. I’ll be right back, I promise.” She hums, pressing an innocent kiss to your forehead before leaving the room. Watching her walk away from you shatters your heart into a million pieces, but you know she’ll come back through the doors quickly. You trust Lorraine’s promise.

I need to change before she gets back, you think, but your body simply won’t allow you to move.   You’re stuck to this bed, to this soft mattress that you once so adored, but now only fear for the horrible dreams it brings upon you.

You sit in this fear, for how long you’re not certain, before Lorraine returns. Her hair is combed through yet still has that lovely, silky wave to it, and she’s dressed in the prettiest white nightgown. She looks like an angel, in shiny white linen. She’s just missing the wings and halo. You feel a warmth rise to your cheeks, seeing her in this state, a state which she’d probably only ever been seen in by her husband. You feel so scandalous, like you should avert your gaze, like God is going to find you sinful for looking at her like this, but your eyes are locked onto this heavenly body in front of you, and you can’t pull away.

“I’m sorry I—” You begin, hands gripping at your shirt, trying to indicate to her that you’re upset with yourself for not getting dressed in her absence.

Lorraine only tuts at you, placing down her bag before rounding to your side of the bed. She helps you stand, and begins through your closet, looking for a nightgown for you to wear. Much to her chagrin, however, all she can find is dirty jeans and some oversized t-shirts, which makes her feel pity towards you, but also causes a small giggle to escape her lips because she finds the clothing choices so adorably fitting for a young farm girl. She settles on the least stained of all of your shirts before returning to your side.

“May I?” Her voice is low, knowing that you’re the only person in the world that needs to hear her. When you nod, she pulls your blouse over your head, and she develops a blush of her own to find that you’re not wearing anything beneath it. You try to hide, snaking your hands around your chest, a new warmth between your legs as you realize that Lorraine’s hands are wandering over your body, the pads of her fingers lightly prodding your exposed skin.

“You sweet thing. You just need someone to love you.” Your savior hums, delicately examining all of the bruises that cover your skin. You’re not even sure where they all came from, just that they developed fast. A few concern you more than the others: the ones shaped like fingers and teeth marks. They never hurt at night, but the fear that strikes you every morning when you reveal a new marking in the mirror is something that you never want to feel again.

Lorraine presses another small kiss to a bruise on your shoulder before helping you pull the sleep shirt over your head. She reluctantly, yet with the complete confidence that she’s carried herself with all along, pulls down your pants in one swift motion. You’re back in bed before you know it, Lorraine tucking you in tightly and making sure you’re perfectly comfortable before taking her own place beside you.

Your brain is rushing, not with the demonic thoughts that you’ve had all this time, but with so many feelings that you never knew existed before meeting Lorraine. You feel horribly antsy, like you have enough energy to run laps around the house. You miss the tiredness that had been affecting you earlier this morning, it was going to be quite difficult to sleep tonight.

“I’m so very glad you came to help me.” You whisper, voice shaky with nerves as you turn on your side to face the woman who’s already turned towards you. You can feel how close your bodies are, yet they aren’t touching, and your brain is working overtime to decide if you should close that space between you.

Luckily, Lorraine is making all of your decisions for you.

You feel the soft skin of her legs first, when they wrap around yours, holding them still. Her right arm is next, draping over the curve in your waist so gently, yet she has the firmest grip on you, like she won’t let you leave even if you tried. You’d never try.

“I…” You start again, shifting even closer to Lorraine, placing your hand on her chest so you can feel her heartbeat. You pray she can’t feel yours, for its beating is so quick it’s probably quite dangerous, and you’ve already worried her enough. “Since you’ve been here, my brain has been so… still. So quiet.” That’s not entirely true, as the angelic woman in front of you has only replaced all of your thoughts, but it’s close enough. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She whispers back, voice so low and gravelly with her own sleep, so that you have to lean even further forward to hear her, and your noses nearly touch. “I haven’t done my job just yet.”

You tense, suddenly filled with worry about what will happen when Lorraine eventually does what she’s come here to do. If your still-burning pain from merely touching a symbol of the Lord is any indication, you’re in for a wellspring of hurt when you wake up in the morning.

As for now, though, you’re completely safe, protected by your guardian angel, and you can sleep soundly for the first time in far too long. You fall asleep under Lorraine’s grasp far quicker than you’d like, as you’d really prefer to stay awake and really cherish the soft circles she’s rubbing into your flesh, but your eyelids fall shut on their own accord.

Lorraine, however, stays up a bit later, watching your face for any sign of nightmares, wandering hands exploring your curves as if looking for clues, soothing you into the deepest sleep of your life.  

Lorriane wakes groggily, yawning while rubbing at her eyes with balled-up fists. She notices first that it’s still not light outside, that she still has time to sleep. Though she won’t, because a panic rips through the woman when she registers your absence. She shoots straight up out of bed, body moving to wrap herself in one of your mother’s old house coats faster than her brain can function. It’s on sheer instinct that Lorraine wraps the rosary around her hand and stuffs her small Bible into her pocket.

She races through the creaky old home, feet freezing against the hardwood floors that whine with each of her frantic steps. Lorraine shouts your name and is only met by her own voice echoing back at her. She searches each room of your house, her eyes still blurry from sleep. She whips open cupboards and is even sure to peek into your attic, which you haven’t so much as thought about since inheriting the home.

A worry is settled across Lorraine’s face when she makes it into your kitchen, but her expression turns to true fear when she sees that the lock on your back door has come undone, and the door isn’t settled into its place in its frame. She searches for any pair of shoes she can find and settles for a pair of boots that barely fit her feet, but their steel toes will at least protect her from the elements. She’s shivering, and her eyes are watering so much that the tears turn cold against her cheeks. The demonologist places a hand over her chest, gripping onto her rosary for a moment, bracing herself for the cold, before she slings the door open and steps out into the night.

The snowfall has picked up tenfold, and there’s now a little under a foot of snow packed onto the ground. Lorraine pulls the small cotton coat around herself tightly, her hair whipping wildly around her face as she blinks back tears, searching for any sign of life. When she looks down, there’s an obvious set of footprints: kicked-back snow heading in the direction of the old, forgotten barn.

Lorraine follows your shoeless prints, still screaming your name into the void of night, her voice strained and muffled in the silence that surrounds her. There isn’t even the typical wee-hour birdsong that too frequently keeps you awake. No cars on the road make their habitual noise, no cows bellowing from across the street. Only the exhausted screams of a woman so frightened for your survival.

When she arrives to the barn, finding safety from the wind in its high walls, feeling so close to dropping to her knees and praying that she had never fallen asleep in the first place, Lorraine spots you. A frail, half-naked body illuminated by one flickering, dangling light that allow the older woman’s eyes little vantage.

She’s filled with relief that she’s found you, but that relief only lasts less than a second before she’s filled with dread. Dread that something is horribly wrong. Dread because you’re dripping with a slick, dark, shimmering liquid.

Lorraine falls to her knees beside you, taking your near-lifeless face in her hands.

“What have you done to her?” She yells, voice harsh and gravelly. She’s speaking to your demon, to the thing that has taken control of your legs and marched you out to this barn, that has treated you like such an animal.

You’re barely conscious, losing the internal battle to keep control of your own mind. All you can do is lean your pained body into Lorraine, trying to give her some sort of message that you’re still there, that you’re still swimming in your own mind, trying to breach the surface.

The clairvoyant asses your injuries, wiping the tears at your eyes and her own. Thankfully, the only damage is done to your back, the lashes across your spine that fuel Lorraine with so much hatred. When your shaking hands lift the riding crop to lay even more agony against your tender flesh, Lorraine wrestles it out of your tight grip and throws it aside, far out of your reach.

“We have to do this now.” Lorraine’s voice is significantly kinder, her hands holding your head close to her chest. She sits in her own fear for a moment, building a strategy to get this thing out of you once and for all. She whispers a prayer, and the words hurt your head, fill your brain with a terrible, searing scream, but there’s simply nothing you can do to stop it. Your livelihood now rests at Lorraine Warren’s feet.

Lorraine stands, guides you upwards. She’s shellshocked by the fact that she’s about to take on a task that she had never solely performed before, and it’s caused her knees to walk unsteadily. She takes the housecoat off and guides it over your shoulders, face twinging as she lays it against the open wounds of your back, but she’d rather you feel pain for a small moment than have your delicate skin come into contact with the weather. The woman ties the coat tight before picking you up, carrying you back through the strong winds, shoes clumping down on the piling snow.

When she replaces the darkness of the sky with the darkness of your home, Lorraine places you down on the sofa where she had once sat with you. You sit in a crumpled state, arms limp, though they fight to wrap around your body, subconsciously seeking heat. You’re impossibly cold, and the longer your toes sit with minimal blood flow, the angrier your beast grows. Your shivering only grows worse when Lorraine throws open the French windows behind you, allowing the snow to come in through the screens and settle in your hair.

“I know it hurts.” She whispers, trying to find some sort of life behind your glassy eyes. Lorraine has forced herself into seriousness, closed her tear ducts and is carrying herself professionally. She knows that treating this with any level of emotional attachment could be suicide for the exorcism, and though the near love that she’s developed for you still lingers at the back of her brain, she has to silence it, she has to save your life before she can worry about you anymore.

Sniffing back the wetness that’s come from the cold air beating against her face, Lorraine finds the Bible still sitting in the pocket of the coat draped over your shoulders. She holds her left hand against your forehead, and the cross casts a warmth against your face that you lean back to fight against, though you’re not sure if it’s of your own action or that of something else.

Lorraine begins reciting a prayer in Latin, that you’d surely be swooning over had you been at all conscious. You’ve nearly lost your battle, your body completely limp against the pillows, as though you’ve lost all muscle mass in less than a minute. You’ve lost all awareness of the situation and now exist only in your own mind, trying your damnedest to regain control.

Each word Lorraine yells with a cracking voice causes a new pain to emerge somewhere within your body, and the pain consumes you so much that you fall over, landing in a fetal position against the cushions of the sofa. Lorraine’s hands want to reach out to soothe you, to press their warmth into your blue skin, to replace your pain with her loving touch, but she restrains herself. She knows that you must feel this pain, that it will drive the presence out of your body and back to the Hell that it emerged from.

“I need you to fight it.” Lorraine interrupts her own prayer to press her forehead against your own, fingers gripping your jaw like her life depends on it. “Don’t give in, don’t let it take you.” She calls, holding the weight of your head in her hands, feeling how much authority you’ve lost over your own body. “Please, fight. For me.”

You’ve already done your fighting. Though you’ve been so horribly affected by this presence in your home, disrupting your livelihood, your sleep, your will to live, there’s not really been anything impacting your will to live at all in years past. You’ve simply been existing in this plane, doing your chores and going to church, following your routines for no reason other than it’s what you’ve always done. Your routines that are so set in stone that it took a demonic presence to shake them up. But you’ve had no one to share your routine with, no one to cook for, no one to compliment how beautifully your flowers have grown. You’ve had no one to fight for.

Your life is not one worth fighting for.

Lorraine Warren, however, feels the opposite. The way she’s holding you so tightly, on her knees in front of you, begging you to stay alive… though you can’t see it, aren’t cognizant enough to hear her begging, you can feel it. There’s a warmth against your chest that’s keeping your heart beating, and a light behind your eyes that’s pushing you to keep going.

So you do. You do as Lorraine asks, and the last little bit of willpower you have musters up into your fingers, and you grab onto Lorraine’s shoulders with an anemic grasp, trying to pull her closer. You force your eyes open, though it’s so very painful due to the rosary still swinging in view, and look up at Lorraine’s worried features. More than anything, you’re filled with hatred that you’re the one to cause her this anguish, that she shouldn’t be so concerned over a life as meaningless as your own.

It's the most beautiful smile you’re met with that causes the final push, that forces your beast out of your mind and into the wind that’s still blowing melting snowflakes onto your already freezing body. A sudden relief fills your body, the power over your own actions that brings back the feeling in your muscles. You sit up, blinking slowly, reliving the past few minutes over and over as you regain a full level of awareness that you’d been left without for the past months.

Lorraine allows you your time to rejoin the living world, slamming shut the windows behind you and throwing several blankets over your freezing body. She drops back to her knees to assess you once more, seeing the color back in your eyes and the warmth rising back to your cheeks. She had seen you in such a terrifying, corpse-like state that she’d surely soon have nightmares about, so the fact that your eyes were finally locking onto her own was an answered prayer.

You eagerly wrapped both arms around the woman’s neck, holding her as close as you can, thanking her over and over again, until the stinging on your back takes the brunt of your attention.

“Don’t thank me. It was all your own work.” She hums, trying to find anywhere she can hold you without wrapping her arms around your back. Lorraine then stands, settling on petting your hair, looking around for any other sources of heat that she may impress upon you. “Do you have any fire woo—”

She’s cut off by the swift action of your standing up, an action that she would surely advise against had she had the option to. But her lips are unable to protest, because they’re met by your own. You’re shocked by your own straightforwardness, and though the fear that she’ll run away and call you a freak is very prominent in your mind, you feel so swept up in thankfulness to this woman, so swept up in love, that the only thing you feel like doing is kissing her.

You internally thank God that she’s not pushed you off, and instead, once the initial shock wears off, Lorraine’s hands are gripping your cheeks and are tugging you forward into her. Though you’re near hypothermic, the warmth that radiates through you when you wrap your arms around Lorraine Warren’s waist is something truly heavenly. You can feel the ice melting away from your fingers and toes, even though you still stand within a house that’s currently running below freezing.

You try to stay attached to Lorraine’s lips for as long as you can, as long as she’ll allow, and as desperately as you both are to stay in this state, Lorraine’s overall concern for your health reigns supreme, and she pulls away to once again ask her question. You giggle softly, hiding your face against her chest, hoping she hasn’t seen how overjoyed your smile is. Though if you were to pick up your head, you’d see that she dons a similar expression.

You direct Lorraine to a closet, and she returns to build a fire. She sits you down right in front of it, and for the first time in far too many days, you feel warmth against your face. You’re not too sure just which direction that warmth is coming from, whether it’s from the fire or the woman sitting next to you, carefully washing the horrible scratches along your spine, but you feel a warmth unlike anything you’ve ever felt in all of your years of living. A warmth you never want to go away.

[pieroulette]

Did I, A Side Character Became the Male Lead's Wife?! : 「 Part 2 Teaser 」

2023 | 13+ | ONESHOT | YANG JUNGWON × READER | -> PART 1

SUMMARY the male lead was suppose to fall in love with the female lead, and yet how did he even gain an interest in you?! clenching your fist as determination blazes your orbs as you're now far beyond determined to make him dislike you for once and for all.

THEME SONG FIREWORK by &TEAM (yes I'm promoting this) if this story was a manhwa, this song is definitely the ost >:))) listen to the song while reading the teaser :3 or else i won't release this lols jk jk but who knows >:) gathering as many lunés as i can lmao.

"a lady like you, i'm afraid to say, intrigues me very much..." jungwon shots a kittenish wink right through your heart. "be my wife, milady. i'll show you how good I can be for you."

it's safe to say, that you punched a fist right to his face after spewing such shitty nonsense. that alone adding an nth time of gasps from everyone in the ballroom.

right now, unfortunately, you were sprinting to the long ass hallway without ever looking back. okay let's say you did look back and fortunately no one or neither the prince were chasing after you.

seriously, what has gone wrong with the male lead?! how in the actual fuck he had taken an interest in you? it seems as if every action you did to push him away only pulls him closer. might as well reset yourself from this world if you can.

whining immensely as you recalled your female lead's precious grin, "liz! what has come to my story?!"

yet to your utter disappointment and shock even, the news had somehow quickly reached the entire nation, everyone and anyone you could think of has been informed of the incident between you and the prince. confirming it totally as you walked through the market with the female lead.

"the prince has truly take a likening in you, milady." liz pulled up a proud smile which had you cringing. like please don't do that, please don't. you weren't supposed to be smiling like this.

"oh god, kindly refrain from uttering that prince's in front of my face, liz. he's nothing but a—" you immediately stopped yourself from spewing shit about the prince as you don't want to ruin liz's perception on him, which would possibly furthering the already inflicted damage on your original story.

*⁠.⁠✧♡

groaning again you did as you couldn't possibly hid forever too, as the author of this novel; you are fully aware of how you crafted the prince's character, that despite all of the charms and dazzling traits you moulded into him, you've added one specific thing that had him stood out the most and that was he's beyond possessive and obsessed with the female lead as it was rooted from one of his traits; competitive, dedicated and most of the time, he doesn't like to lose and that he had to get what he wanted or else..

chaos it is, and such chaos coming from the prince himself are not to be underestimated.

you are having such an enormous urge to bang your head on your bed right now as how couldn't you? who doesn't want a male lead to live and die for their lover? of course you and your damn adorable readers!

well, fiction aren't to be confused with reality after all.

but damn your life for this is your reality now—here in your own very novel.

screw your novel, screw your life, screw reality, screw the prince! you might just as well fall into your slumber now as you try plan of another way to avoid that very prince you crafted.

*⁠.⁠✧♡

the sun rays peering through the swaying curtains glints against your fluttering eyelashes, causing your orbs to hid behind the shield of your splayed fingers. stretching your arms upwards, a sense of satisfaction surged through your veins—fueling the corners of your lips to pull up in the widest grin.

you've successfully overturn your fate by not attending the prince's second invitation, squinting mischievously—he must have lose interest in you for not visiting your manor, doesn't he? with his character, he couldn't have possibly had gone that long! he sure would've been tremendously patient regarding political affairs but never at the female lead!

in chapter 16 of your novel, "blooming romances" where you've written the development of their romance that had your reader's heart evaporating into nothingness as they weep under the comment section over how a single sentence you wrote had made them feel so damn single and why they haven't found a guy like the prince yet:

— after gaining the heart of lady liz; prince jungwon was beyond ecstatic to have another day out with his lover, however alike the eclipse's separation—royal and political affairs had ripped him away from the comfort of his lover's arms. thus, he had been occupied with so much papers within the palace's quarters.

yet as soon as the grey cloak crawled back over the blue sky, pulling the moon back with it—so does the prince himself, leaving the stacked up papers on his desk and appearing before the lady's quarters after much effort climbing onto the firm tree.

wasting not a breathe, as the apples of his cheeks serving as physical form of his infatuation towards the lady—the tips of his tongue mellowed in instinct for her, along with his hand that were accustomed to his sword's handle to enveloped beneath her fingers—pressing a lover's vow on the top of her hand through his faint red lips.

"milady, i fear i had no longer the strength to contain myself from letting out a single breath without your presence." his lips ghosted against his lover's ear, "it had my patience crumbling into nothing when you, milady had reigned over my heart."

ah! what a joyous occasion! you plopped on the bed with your gathered strength as you giggled like a child. bliss consumed your entire soul with your surging scream alerting the entire manor.

swaying your pillow in a circular motion as you sprint towards your hallway, "juliet! liz! i'm the happiest person ever in the world— oh jesus, someone host a damn buffet and tell everyone in the manor to join!"

"milady!" you saw juliet sprinting towards your way.

"juliet! oh dear, you should—"

"milady!" she panted right after falling on your arms. "the— the—"

"hm?! why are you sweating so much? what happened?"

taking a deep humongous breathe she did before uttering one sentence that had your head blasting into the ghost quiet vacuum of space.

"the prince has arrived!"

"what?!" your jaw dropped on the ground with gigantic mirror crashing behind you.

*⁠.⁠✧♡

"i seriously have no idea what do you find interesting in me?"

"i have yet to know, milady. that's the very reason i had the courage to ask for such a bold request from you."

"and what makes you assume i would agree to that?" you raised your left eyebrow.

"i have yet to resort to such foul actions, which i'd rather not to milady."

your blood surged cold through your veins, "a-are you threatening me?"

"certainly i do not intend it to sound that way, i prefer to keep this as civil as possible as you—milady, truly does has gained my interest and it would truly be vain if i.. wasn't given the chance to prove my worth to you. all i am asking is to grant me a chance to prove myself for you."

*⁠.⁠✧♡

"don't you have any rules you want to share?"

jungwon emitted a giggle as soon as he processed your words, "oh, i don't think i need one. after all, whatever you may wish, shall i grant."

"then, stop chasing me—"

"except that one." his lips pulled up in a mischievous smirk, the sun places a tender kiss on the strands of his hair—dripping honey hues on his cheeks which reflected against his feline orbs. "then shall we begin the countdown, milady?"

thirty days, it is; for him to pour his entire efforts to gain your heart and soul, while you extremely adamant in your mission to make him lose interest in you and make him fall in love with your precious female lead, liz.

*⁠.⁠✧♡

"i see, that this is the lady our prince had taken an interest for?" a middle aged man along with a young lady appeared before you, clearly trying to get your attention.

"she truly live up to the rumor, father." the lady snickered behind her lacy handfan, her eyes held traces of mockery in it.

"i dare say that his royal highness had quite a special taste.."

you tilted your head at them, sighing as you very well know where is this going. of course why wouldn't you? this was the dialogue you created during a crying session after your favourite manhwa ends on a horrible note. opting to torture your characters in your dusty side novel by using this dialogue on them, and later had a beaming idea to recycle it for the female lead's fateful encounter with the nobles.

"if you'd like to keep your tongue, then i advise you to keep it shut. sir?" goosebumps raised over the back of your neck when the prince appeared, his feline eyes held irritation in it as he stood beside you. "you had no right to speak that way to my future wife."

"i- apologize, your highness!"

"i'm quite sure the one of the rules i stated that you would refrain from calling me.. your wife? didn't we?" you sighed.

"forgive me, milady." jungwon shrugged. "such atrocious tongue had to be cut off before it grows, and aside from that, what kind of husband would i be if i couldn't do the bare minimum of protecting my wife?"

*⁠.⁠✧♡

"why.. is lady liz here with us too, milady?" dumbfounded the prince was at the presence of the lady. you suppressed the need to smirk as the prince were facing the female lead, and you in the middle.

ah, what a sight! you couldn't help but fangirl over, cause how couldn't you?! it's like a matchmaking session and you, obviously the cupid!

"i assume there's nothing to be curious at, as this was the pact, isn't your highness? i could bring whoever i please."

"yes, but.. the pact.." jungwon pauses, then pulls a tiny smile all reserved for you. "never mind it, i had been granted the honour to be invited to the lady's manor, how ungrateful would i be if i couldn't satisfy your wishes, milady." he continues as he turns his fluttering eyes at liz. "lady liz, it's my pleasure to meet you."

"so am i, your highness."

yes! yes! freaking finally, did he turned his damn head over the female lead! you got this, you were beyond skeptical at agreeing with the pact at first but now that you've seen it before your eyes, you could make the prince fall for the female lead whenever it's your turn to invite the prince!

this is truly a blessing in disguise!

make him fall in love her, bit by bit, till his interest in you slowly divert into the female lead before his eyes. simple it is! just make sure she's always in his line of vision, so that his heart would truly realise who it was beating for this entire time.

oh dear prince, look ahead and see the perfect lady that was meant for you! for if you still refuse to do so, i'll gladly force your damn kitten eyes to look towards her, mission start!

*⁠.⁠✧♡

jungwon emitted a slight giggle, a tender smile forming in his lips. "that's fascinating of you, lady liz. is there anything you had an interest for other than that?"

"hm, i adore looking after birds, they're my precious friends that tend to help me more than i could count, your majesty. and at times, i practise the art of embroidery.."

jungwon's eyes beamed at that particular word and it didn't go unnoticed by your eyes forming countless of neon heart shapes as you watched them converse with each other, heart quenching in top fangirling mode as they were truly a match made for each other! aaah, my favourite couple!

an enchanting frame of them, what a lovely sight indeed! you could watch them all day all night, for their romance to bloom into waterfall of florals.

"how about you, lady (name)? is there anything you in particular liked about?" the prince asked you.

"uh-?" your fangirling mode switches off when both of their attention were now on you. shit, just ignore me and talk to each other! pretend i do not exist!

"i'm curious about you, milady." jungwon tilted his head at you, curiosity glazed across his feline orbs as he leaned back on the chair in a leisure manner, with his usual smirk pestering you to death.

*⁠.⁠✧♡

you heard a few knocks on your door, the maid's head slipping in through the edge. "milady?"

"hm?" you didn't bother to pay a glance as you wiped off the excess soaking of your hair, still in your spiral of dilemma over what happened an hour ago. your stupid mistake of your damn foot conspiring to trip into the damn lake in a rare opportunity!

"his majesty were asking for your presence, milady."

"and what is his royal highness trying to conspire right here, huh? i am not his personal assistant to dress him up." you snorted, "what is this, barbie and ken? barbie girl in a barbie world?"

it's fantastic? this is nothing close to fantastic at all! you were so damn close to have them crashing their lips against each other!

"goddamnit why is this song kept repeating in my mind!" you whined to into your oblivion of despair.

the maid who had been patiently waiting for you to finish your emo session, spoke once again. "but milady, his majesty had been having troubles since an hour ago. he had only requested for you and no one else."

"oh god, fine!" you smashed your soaked towel on the table, huffing as you went on your way to the guest room. stomping your feet ever so loudly as you pause before the double door, "your highness, may i ask what in the world are going on for you to request for my presence?"

"come in, please."

you didn't think much as you pushed the door open, yet your lungs bursted into flames when his toned chest and down your eyes goes to his bunny pack of buns greeting your lazy orbs which had by far rattling into chaos as of now.

he's freaking half naked?! your mind chanted it like an unlimited quota. shirtless he was with that pestering smirk on his face as if he did this on purpose.

"milady?" jungwon smirked, "why don't you welcome yourself in? after all, this is your manor."

*⁠.⁠✧♡

"i'd certainly would not dare, milady. but if you insist." he shots a mischievous wink at your way.

seriously, you couldn't be bothered by this, aren't you? god knows how many filth you've written in the past few years of your life, you could even describe all of it without releasing a few screams or there, which shows how much of a pro you are.

you were beyond nervous when he pushes the door opened to his room, revealing the entire outlook of the furnitures, painting, couches, table, and lastly.. the king-sized bed.

bitch, get a hold on yourself.

*⁠.⁠✧♡

"milady," he pushed you on top of the bed, hovering over you as he caged you within his arms on both sides of your head.

"that's certainly brave of you, don't you think? milady?" he keeps emphasising the last word as if he adores to call you that very much, adding such seductive tone had your heart skipping a beat.

"milady." he whispered one more time.

he pressed a passionate kiss on your forehead, "milady." chanting the word a dozen more times as he continued on making you feel so loved.

his affectionate gestures were driving your soul insane and your knees weak as you indulged yourself in his love—the love he bestows only for you.

"milady."

「 © talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission.

[shieldkeeper]

Happy half patch! I took it into my hands to write down and record all of the lore entries in game for the new Aloalo variant dungeon. You’ll find all the information below the cut:

A Not-quite Deserted Island

“Someone else was at Aloalo Island, and they commanded a wooden figure to attack us! It looked like a guhasaya, and its fangs were just as deadly. Thank the Sisters WoL was there!”

When Matsya told me of this encounter, my first thought was of the golems of the Far East, said to be driven by intricate wooden mechanisms. However, as Kalika so eagerly explained to us, the people of Aloalo were artisans of a different sort. They created arcane wooden familiars known as “quaqua” to serve as both protectors and companions, of which the creature that assailed them was but one. Nor were their constructs limited to the quaqua alone– Kalika warned against recklessly laying hands upon any of the figures dotting the island, lest they be roused from their slumber to defend their home.

Practitioners of the art of arcanima, which itself originated in the southern seas, employ gemstones to act as an intermediary between the corporeal and incorporeal when summoning familiars such as Carbuncles. The properties of wood, however, make it suitable for the selfsame purpose, and there is now evidence to suggest that early arcanists relief on wooden rather than gemstone cores. The “tiresome lout” of whom Matsya spoke must have possessed intimate knowledge of arcanima to successfully adopt these methods and call upon the quaqua.

The First Settlers of Aloalo Island

“Aloalo is breathtaking, and its fish are plentiful. How could it have been left abandoned for so long?”

While neither Aloalo’s natural beauty nor its various inhabitants’ resourcefulness is in question, it is but a small island amidst volatile seas, prone to experiencing the full force of nature’s fury. Thus is its history one of prolonged settlement punctuated by abrupt abandonment.

According to stories told to Kalika by the island’s former caretakers, the earliest known settlers arrived during the waning years of the Fourth Astral Era. However, at the onset of the Fifth Calamity, otherwise known as the Age of Endless Frost, these settlers vanished, leaving behind the great shrine which housed the statue of the Speaker. Dubbed the “forgotten people” by those who came after, their mark upon Aloalo would endure, but their identity remains shrouded in mystery.

During the Fifth Astral Era, Aloalo was home to another people who became skilled at navigating the open sea. Some subsequently migrated to Vylbrand and would go on to found the city-state of Nym. However, when the Sixth Calamity brought destruction to Nym’s gates, those who could returned to the birthplace of their forebears.

Later, in the Sixth Astral Era, some of Aloalo’s residents again crossed the sea to Vylbrand, and their knowledge of arcanima would become the foundation of what is practiced today.

Alas, history would repeat itself when the island was abandoned for the third time a century ago in response to the eruption of an underwater volcano. Now Aloalo sits quietly, awaiting any who might start the cycle anew.

God of Heaven and Sea

“The whale we encountered was as colorful as Thavnairian weave, but as vicious as a kumbhira!”

Legends abound in the south sea isles of whales which soar through the skies, and Shockmaw may be but one of these majestic creatures. According to Kalika, another flying whale known as “Ketuduke” was worshiped by Aloalo’s people as a messenger of the gods, and the countless figures carved in his image are an expression of their devotion. It is therefore within the realm of possibility that the creature which attacked was in truth this Ketuduke.

When faced with this revelation, Matsya wrung his hands and wondered if he had brought ill fortune upon them for angering a divine messenger. Kalika reassured him that any potential calamities could be averted by making the proper obeisance, and he instructed me to write down the ritual for posterity.

First, one must trek to where the three carven deities of Aloalo await their subjects, and there stand before the whale and chant, “O messenger from beyond the horizon, hear me.” Next, they must twice circumnavigate this isle of gods: first passing before the sparrow and then the turtle before returning to the whale’s auspice, then retracing the steps of their journey in the opposite direction. Lastly, the faithful must perform a dance, thus ending the ritual and securing Ketuduke’s blessing.

When Kalika described this rite to me, I was struck by its similarity to certain Thavnairian practices. Although the particulars differ, both religious traditions recognize and honor the divine nature of beasts.

A Noxious Gift

“I’d never felt a fish pull with such strength. At that moment, I swore on my pride as a fisher that I would not let this prize escape!”

Due to its tendency to absorb and accumulate toxins from its prey, the draco barracuda that Matsya returned with is not safe for consumption. To be clear, the fish’s flesh is not inherently toxic, so a brave soul could perhaps eat one and live–and I am certain more than a few have done just that. I know several fellow alchemists who would sample a barracuda just to experience its potency for themselves, in fact. Fortunately, I found it listed within a compendium kept at the Great WOrk, so I knew there was nothing to be gained from such questionable endeavors. 

The toxin of the draco barracuda can be used as an alchemical agent, much like the venom of the hamsa. The island’s lush environment likely afforded this particular specimen plenty of prey to feast upon, and as a consequence I suspect it is highly toxic.

Kalika informed me that draco barracuda were revered by Aloalo’s people because they kept harmful seaweed and poisonous smaller fish in check. If one was accidentally caught, it was given back to the sea as a gesture of gratitude. I cannot help but wonder whether Matsya should have done the same.

The Roots of Arcanima

“We were walking through a place filled with such lush greenery that every flower was as a shining ruby in the brush. I was so entranced with my surroundings that I scarcely noticed the strange wooden doll until we were nearly upon it!”

A century ago, an undersea volcano erupted near Aloalo. Violent waves followed, and the sky filled with ash so thick that the island’s inhabitants were unsure they would ever see the sun again. Their fortunes had changed overnight, and they were forced to make the difficult decision to leave their home. The evacuation was fraught with peril, for what boats survived the turbulent waters had to navigate floating lumps of cooling magma.

Prior to this disaster, Aloalo was a repository of mathematical records, grimoires, and marvels of arcanima. Those who fled could only take with them a fraction of these treasures, leaving behind their other creations–including the sculpted guardian known only as “the lala,” later encountered by Matsya and WoL.

Alas, while the lala managed to survive the long years, much of the archive and its tomes have been reclaimed by nature, along with what secrets they contained.

Under the Boughs of the Great Tree

“Thavnair has its share of magnificent trees, but this one puts them all to shame. That jewel is truly a wonder.”

The great tree which towers over Aloalo had already grown into its full majesty when Kalika was born. In its shelter gathered those who worked to unravel the mysteries of the world through numbers and equations, and over time their modest encampment transformed into a full-fledged community. Night and day they would pore over their arithmetic, that they might shed light upon the jewel held by the statue of the Speaker, which seemed to imbue Aloalo itself with unflagging vitality. In the course of their research, they carved numerous arcane geometries into the tree’s bark, one of which would extract the aether from slain animals and redirect its flow to the surrounding flora. Just four sacrifices would be enough to make the branches of the tree grow, thus opening–or closing–paths through the area.

If these early arcanists were so fascinated with the Speaker’s jewel, why did they not live within the shrine which housed it?

This I asked Kalika, who answered that the shrine was enshrouded by an impenetrable mist–likely the result of magicks woven by its forgotten builders. And so the proto-arcanists settled at the great tree while they labored to create a tool which would win them safe passage, only to remain there even after their work was complete. I presume the comforts and benefits of a familiar place won out in the end.

A Dear Friend

“When the branches were thickest, I wondered if I might spy a bird like Kalika perched upon them. I kept looking up, but I spied no sparrows flitting throughout the canopy.”

When Kalika heard this story from Matsya, he proudly exclaimed that he was unlike any other sparrow in the world. Although his less-talkative brethren are a common sight in Thavnair, they were revered by the inhabitants of Aloalo. Seeking to deepen my bond with the loquacious bird, I asked Kalika if there were any rituals performed or prayers offered in his kind’s honor. While Kalika was uncharacteristically reluctant to teach me, he acquiesced after some prodding. I have recorded his instructions so as not to forget.

Where Aloalo’s deities lie in wait, one must stand before the figure of the sparrow and chant, “O dancer of the skies, hear me.” Then they must prove their sincerity by blowing it a kiss. After that, the faithful should circle its perch, passing both the turtle and the whale ere returning to the sagely sparrow and performing for it a sprightly dance, thus securing the sparrow’s favor.

After learning this, I blew a kiss to Kalika. In response, he sighed deeply and turned his back to me. My heart sank, and it was then I realized just how much I had come to care about him. I want only for Kalika to be comfortable and safe. Perhaps I should put more effort in the meals I prepare? Or would blowing him more kisses win his favor? Or perhaps… (The following musings content no pertinent information for those who would brave Aloalo.)

Fish for the Mind

“To think the great tree was home to fish as well. I usually cast my rod in the sea, but it’s exciting to ply my trade in a new environment!”

Kalika informed us that the fish Matsya returned with is a “wholokailo”. Its hard scales were dried, polished, and repurposed as components in a calculating device. The meat was also favored for its succulent flavor and supposed ability to enhance intelligence. As an alchemist, I was eager to put this claim to the proof. Could the meat actually sharpen one’s mind, or was it merely superstition born from the wholokailo’s association with arcanima?

I investigated the fish’s properties as soon as I heard Kalika’s story, but regrettably found nothing extraordinary concerning its nutritional benefits. That said, the scales do appear to have value as alchemical agents if they are properly stripped from the body and dried. I then thought perhaps grilling the fish and eating it whole might produce the desired enhancing effect… but I found the scales to be much too hard to chew and displeasing to the tongue besides.

To use the fish to its full alchemical potential, I believe the best method would be to grind the scales into powder, then knead them into a shape that can be easily swallowed. Whether or not the resulting product would measurably improve one’s intelligence remains to be seen, though.

A Familiar History

“That faerie almost spoiled the whole experience. I hope we’ve seen the last of her…”

The faerie that tormented Matsya was a forgotten familiar by the name of Statice. Kalika was no stranger to her antics, and he recounted the stories of Statice wielding bizarre tools in her many attempts to capture him. She seems to have no purpose but to engage in mischief, and her traps litter Aloalo.

Given that scholars from the city-state of Nym settled upon Aloalo after the Sixth Calamity, the presence of a faerie is hardly surprising. They were favored as familiars by Nym’s mages, but such minions disappear upon the death of their master, when the supply of aether sustaining them is cut off. The fact that Statice has endured for so long suggests that she draws upon a potent source of aether–perhaps the selfsame jewel which is responsible for the remarkable vitality of Aloalo.

As an aside, the techniques used to control these faeries would later be refined by modern arcanists who command Carbuncles.

Tracing the evolution of the art further back, we can see a connection to the wooden familiars left behind by the forgotten original settlers of Aloalo. The tapestry of history is vast and intricate, and these expeditions have done much to add new threads to the cloth.

The Remnants of Faith

“We arrived at a place that looked long abandoned but retained an unmistakable air of divinity. Whatever gods watched over Aloalo, this was surely their home.”

Matsya’s description called to mind Thavnair’s Purusa, and Kalika confirmed that it was indeed a sacred site for the people of Aloalo. It contained a ritual chamber where figures of the gods awaited to dispense their blessings, among them that of a sea turtle. As a fisher, Matsya is bonded to the sea, and Kalika suggested that he perform the proper rites before the turtle upon his next voyage. For Matsya’s sake, I shall record the instructions here.

First, standing before the turtle, one must chant, “O wayfarer of land and sea, hear me.” Then the supplicant must journey around the isle of gods twice, each time passing the sparrow then the whale before returning to the turtle. Bow before the wise traveler to earn its blessing.

Figures of the divinities could also be found throughout the ruins of old settlements, and I wonder whether their arrangement held special meaning. Regardless, it is plain that religion was of great importance to the people of Aloalo, much like it is to the Hannish.

A Lalafell or a Fish?

“I’ve never seen such a fish! It almost resembles you, Pasasun–quite adorable, if I say so myself.”

I respect Matsya and his opinions, but I must strenuously beg to differ. To simply look at the fish he brought back from Aloalo sends a chill down my spine. Birds like Kalika could be described as “adorable,” but a fish with the face of a man… well, we shall have to agree to disagree, and consider this a minor hitch in an otherwise harmonious friendship.

When I asked Kalika about this odd specimen, he said it was called a “lalaulusu” by Aloalo’s inhabitants. They had a legend of an unlucky lalafell who was cast into the ocean during a storm, whereupon they found themselves transformed into a fish.

Parents told this story to their children to discourage them from wandering near the shore during rough weather. While it was likely no more than a cautionary tale, I cannot help but hesitate to render the laulusu into alchemical materials.

Wellspring of Golden Memories

“I caught a fish with striking golds scales–it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen in Thavnair. This may be the most precious treasure of Aloalo Island!”

“Long ago, a fever raged among Aloalo’s infants. In a desperate bid to save their young, the islanders made soup with fish from the waters of the great shrine. The infants’ fevers broke, and all who partook of the soup grew into hale and hearty adults who were never again touched by sickness. Thenceforth it became custom to feed all newborns soup made from the golden coelacanth. Whatever inherent nutritional benefits the meat possesses seem to be enhanced by the fish’s proximity to the statue of the Speaker and the jewel it protects. Needless to say, the golden coelacanth holds high value as an alchemical specimen.

Although Matsya and I have known each other since childhood, the separate paths we took in life have afforded us scant opportunity to work together. Since the day he found Kalika washed up on the beach, however, we have never been closer– and the adorable bird has been a welcome addition to our fellowship. What is more, I have been able to advance my study of alchemy thanks to the rare fish Matsya has brought back.

I began this conservation record in the hopes that Matsya and any who would follow in his footsteps might benefit from it, but it has become a journal of sorts for this most joyous time in mylife. I am forever grateful to Matsya and Kalika both for setting these events in motion, and to WoL for keeping my dear friend safe from harm in his journeys.

EXTRA!

The Speaker

Kalika: I can tell you only of legends passed down through generations. Of biting frost that turned seas to ice, which drove the Speaker’s makers to go forth in search of a haven where light shone bright.

Those who came long after found Aloalo, where life had weathered the ancient rime. At the island’s heart was the Speaker, its jewel flawless and radiant. ‘Twas a wellspring of vitality, they believed, and all who settled upon Aloalo came to revere the ancient builders and their enduring legacy.

Under the Speaker’s auspices, the people of Aloalo lived in peace for thousands of years, until the day flame and ash rose from the water and forced them to flee.

[gold-rhine]

I don't understand how the fontainian prophecy as fulfilled whilst deceiving the heavenly principles...

Like, I thought that the main part of the prophecy was the people dissolving?

And well forgetting the prophecy was fulfilled part, if the divine throne of the hydro archon was destroyed then isn't that in of itself something which would gain the attention of the heavenly principles? Moreover the hydro sovereign gaining full authority.... I don't understand....

the actual prophecy is shown in stone slates, the rhyme is like... folk popularization of it. i mean, the ACTUAL prophecy was put directly into irminsul, thats how it had power, i talked about prophecy mechanics a bit here, and we don't know what kind of like... code it was. But anyway, actual required steps on the slates is that archon is judged by the ppl of fountaine and then is weeping alone on the throne, while everything around is flooded.

as to celestia i mean yeah? we've been hearing a long time that heavenly principles are slumbering or smth. Nahida threatened to destroy gnosis to Dottorre bc it MIGHT be enough to wake celestia. but like yeah, we don't know what's going on with celestia, but so far it seems from neuvi's lines that gnosis is what essential for them to keep their power.

"Severely wounded in the great war of vengeance, the usurper had their functions ruined, and could no longer use their absolute authority to suppress the original order of this world. To continue to subdue and control the resentments and loathing of the world, the usurper and one who came after created the Gnoses together. So it came to be that an order was made to be upheld, and thus did humans come to only possess these seven remembrances, and all fragments of the primordial were driven to devour each other.

From that day on, whenever a person's wishes reached the heavens, the seven overseers of the material realm were duty-bound to grant them a gift. Though they might know nothing of who or what wish had stepped into the threshold of the sacred, the Seven Archons still had to impart a shattered shard of their mastery to that person. And when one so gifted completed their duty... the gift the gods would receive in return would be more abundant still."

i would guess that the divine throne is the tool of enforcing the rule of archon, and archon has to rule to keep gnosis functioning. so as long as gnosis is not destroyed AND visions are circulated, thats the main thing that matters to celestia. which is why i guess tsaritsa is collecting the gnoses, since they are what is used to "to subdue and control the resentments and loathing of the world".

[kenneth-the-mudmander]

Long rant about how all signs point to Graydon being the Harbinger of the Wyrm. This is like really long, guys. So only read if you really wanna hear some Willow theories.

Using his flute on the sand boat wasnt the first time Graydon used magic

Its was at Nockmaar, when he force lifted Elora into the air and tried to banish her soul to the whatever dimension

I know that he was posessed by the Wyrm at this point,

But Ballentine and Airk never used magic when they were possessed.

So what makes Graydon different?

Well, I think its just another sign that he is the Harbinger.

I've may have before mentioned before about a theory I have, about how when the world is shaking as Graydon reads the pnkotic at the gate its because its to symbolize how he himself is the Harbinger in the poem. And to symbolize that the gang themselves are standing at a threshold.

And that later, at the end, when Graydon wakes up in the Wyrm dimension, it is directly mirroring the line at the end of the poem:

"We stand at the threshhold"

"We peer into the void"

"We bear witness to his glory"

"The Eternal One, the healer of worlds."

"As he stirs from his deathless slumber, deep below the surface,"

"The Harbinger of the Wyrm will come."

We, as the audience, think he dies when he is exploded or sent through the portal or whatever. When we see him wake up, it is like he is coming back alive.

Having been sent through a threshold into the void and then Awakening from a "deathless slumber".

He is greeted by the Wyrm, who has taken the form of Elora.

The Wyrm tells him that she needs him.

She needed her Harbinger.

The Crone kidnaps Airk because she thinks his Blood of the Six will mean he will be the strong magic conduit the Wyrm needs for the Harbinger.

But Airk never does any magic. The Blood of the Six meant nothing. The Crone got it wrong.

Because it was Graydon all along.

The Harbinger probably has some sort of prophesy about who he is going to be. Things to look out for that would indicate who is actually the Harbinger. Just like in the Willow movie, Elora Danan had prophecies about her being a goddess, her birthmark, and how she would destroy Bavmorda.

Im guessing the Gales knew to look for a Prince from a magic bloodline and figured Airk was the best fit.

This, of course, makes the assumption that Graydon comes from a magical bloodline.

Which I do think is hinted at with the mere fact that Graydon can read pnkotic, taught himself magic, and that when controlled by Wyrm, he could use strong magic without a wand.

Magic is in his blood or soul or something. If it isn't from the Hastur bloodline. Then it's because he is a chosen one like Elora, and is The Harbinger.

Elora, the Avatar Goddess of the World.

Graydon, Harbinger of the Wyrm.

And God!

Like, if this is the direction that the show is going. That is soo good. What? I mean.

What does this mean for the show? I cant believe Graydon will turn to the dark side. Not forever at least. So does that mean he would actually be the Harbinger of the Wyrm,

Not as in a Harbinger, or someone that fortells the coming of evil. But a Harbinger, which is someone who fortells the death of evil.

Also, Elora and Graydon fighting side by side, using Light and Dark magic together. Its like bringing balance to the force, or magic life blood of universe.

Cause the show keeps saying the universe needs to be in balance. And there's no balance in conquest. If Light defeats Dark, then the whole is cut in half. No longer balanced.

So maybe the wyrm is just put back into a deep sleep? Like he was thousands of years ago.

The dark isnt destroyed, just lain dormant. Waiting for when the hearts of men are once again corruptable.

Elora is a symbol of unification.

When societies are unified, taken care of, less evil things happen. People dont have to steal or lie or kill to survive. They can live happy in peace.

Unification isnt perfect. Eventually, anything can slip back into old ways and evil rises again.

Life is a cycle. A push and pull, balanced ying yang that goes on forever.

Or, at least thats an idealized view of the world. And certainly exists in many many stories.

And i think that'd be cool if thats what they are doing in Willow.

Anyways, I sound like that Charlie Kelly meme so Im gonna go now lol

Me after I eat a weed gummi and think about Willow too much.

[letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse]

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Pairing: Izzy Hands x gn!reader

Synopsis: Izzy wouldn't peel oranges for, if he didn't-

A/N: I'm so, so, so sorry this took so long for me to write! I really struggled with writer's block on this chapter. Hopefully, the nexy chapter will be published a lot quicker!

Content Warning: mentions of death and self-loathing but othwrwise, I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything!

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, REPUBLISH, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. I DO NOT OWN OFMD OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

=============================

T-This was good, right? You sleeping...in his arms. Goodness knows you were completely exhausted after the doctor treated your arm. The rest would do you good. Plus, as much as it made Izzy's stomach knot with anxiety, he...he liked having you this close. No, not 'liked'. 'Liked' was too palid a term.

What was it you had said? When in the midst of begging Edward to bring him to your bedside? Right. You said you needed him like you needed oxygen. Izzy did not just like having you safely tucked against his chest, as you got some well-deserved rest. He had fantasised about this moment for, well, months. Perhaps even from the first day he had saved you.

Gods, just the mere memory of the state he had found you in that day, caused the First Mate to hold your slumbering form just that bit tighter. Back then, he had possessed no inkling of just how intrinsically important you were going to be to him, but now, you were his sun, moon, and stars. His feelings for you were as equally intense as yours were for him and should have been enough, right?

Wrong. Contentment was not yet quite on the cards for the silver-haired pirate. He would have to address some decades-old demons, before such peace was granted to him.

"Gods, you're such a creeper." the sudden intrusion of another's voice, that was not your own, startled the First Hand as his head whipped round in the direction of the newcomer.

"Spriggs." Izzy breathed a sigh of relief. Usually the sight of Lucius sent a spike of rage through his persons but for once, the silver-haired pirate was rather pleased it was a...hm, not quite a friend but at least it was not a foe.

The obvious sway in the Scribe's gait was very telling as he stepped into the room, leaving the door ajar in his wake. It did not take a genius to deduce that he had been drinking. Though, Izzy could not recall a time he had ever seen the young man quite so inebriated. The thought instantly put the First Mate on edge. Drunk people could be...erratic at the best of times, especially lightweights. The silver-haired pirate did not want any trouble, especially while you were in such a bulnerable state.

"Dizzy." Lucius greeted his superior, voice slightly louder than intended.

"Keep your voice down, they're sleeping."

"Yeah, I can see that."

Noticing the half-drunk bottle of- what even was that?- nondescript alcohol in Lucius's hand, Izzy nodded towards the beverage. "Drowning your sorrows or celebrating?"

"A bit of both." the smile that graced his lips, did not quite reach the man's eyes. The usual twinkle of mirth was replaced by an emotion more akin to pain. "The doc said Pete'll hopefully pull through. Just a matter of when now."

"That's good to know." Izzy nodded and genuinely- but more so, surprisingly- he was honest to goodness glad that the Lucius and Pete had both survived the storm. With you in his life, Izzy could now empathetically imagine the pain either men would have felt, had the other perished aboard The Revenge. Well, overboard in Pete's case.

"I've been told I have you to thank for that."

"Just doing my duty as First Mate." Izzy shrugged, as if he were in the casual habit of saving lives on a daily basis. "Don't make nothing into something." the reality of the matter was that, Izzy wanted to completely forget about the storm. Even now, the First Mate could still feel the ice cold grip of the unpleasant memories, pulling his attention away from the present and back to the sight of red...staining the storage floor.

"Yeah, well. Still. Thanks, I guess or whatever. Fuck, I don't know." he gave mirthless laugh, while running a weary hand over his face. What a twist of fate! The disagreeable Isreal Hands had been the one to save the love of his life. Calypso must have really had fun concocting that series of unfortunate events. If the entire situation had not been so dire, Lucius may have found the humour in the mind-boggling concept. Still, the Scribe was at least thankful that the First Mate had been competent enough a pirate to rescue Pete. It chilled him to the core to consider the alternative. Both men could have easily have lost their lives to the storm. Then both you and Lucius would have suffered with a broken heart.

The subsequent yawn from the young man, did not escape Izzy's hawk-like gaze. "You should get some sleep."

"Could say the same to you." Lucius grinned, dopily. Already thinking about taking residence beside Pete, in the narrow single bed, as he had done every single night, since the crew had deposited themselves in the inn.

"But you won't 'cause you're gonna do as you're fucking told, right?" once upon a time, those words would have been spat with such malice but now, after everything that had happened, Lucius dared to believe that the slight smirk that played upon Izzy's lips, was real and not something conjured up by his drunkenly hazy mind.

"Heh, I suppose I am." he chuckled, already moving to turn his back on the First Mate but before he could fully exit out of the room, he had paused in the doorway, with his had rested upon the chipped frame. "You know, you should actually tell them how you feel, instead of just staring. Just some food for thought." he added, before he disappeared out of sight and into the darkness of the hallway. "Night, Dizzy."

"Twat." the lone man grumbled, only for his gaze shift to you, when you slightly stirred in your sleep. Mumbling something that almost resembled his name.

====

The next day.

Skilled fingers took their sweet time in removing the fragrant rind, causing citrus perfume to fill the air and make your mouth water in anticipation. Separating a segment from the bunch, the silver-haired pirate pressed the delightfully sweet treat to your lips. "Open." he gently commanded, smiling to himself, as you complied without hesitation. The sigh of contentment from you prompted Izzy to fed you another slice, before he helped himself to some of the orange.

And so, the day slipped languidly from morning to late evening. The sun warming everything in it's sight, transforming the Republic of Pirates from sunflower yellow, to vivid gold. The ocean melted into the sky, solid cerulean blue, punctuated with lamb's wool clouds. Crickets chipped and pirates cussed, beckoning you to leave the confines of your room. There was a world beyond the inn, calling to be explored by your curious gaze but for now, you were happy to indulge in a well-needed rest.

The steady heartbeat of your beloved, thumped steadily, as you lay your head back down against his chest. The unusual coarse leather of his waistcoat forgotten, thrown precariously over a nearby chair, in favour of a linen shirt. A far better suited material for such humid climates.

Popping another orange segment into his mouth, Izzy chewed thoughtfully, the rare quiet allowing for time for much-needed contemplation. The conversion with Spriggs played over and over in his mind. Melding and blending with with your own revelations. He could seldom believe that you actually felt so deeply for him. Did you truly mean your words, when you said his presence made it easier for you to breathe? The fear-driven voice in his head, cautioned him to not mention anything but the curiousity was eating him alive. "So, I'm your Stede fucking Bonnet, aye?"

You visibly tensed in his hold and for a moment, he feared the worst but the dusting of blush that warmed your cheeks, suggested that perhaps, you were more embarrassed at being caught saying such cherished sentiments. "You heard me say that?" you giggled, the sound immediately put the First Mate at ease. His instincts had not failed him. Maybe now his inner monologue would be kinder to him? Unlikely. "I meant every word, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He pauses once more, thinkjng over your admission. Though you had no reason to lie and nothing to gain from garnering the affections of the ship's First Mate, Izzy still could not quite wrap his head around the exact reason behind your attraction towards him. "Why?" he stated plainly, needing you to spell it out for him.

The one word caused you more heartache than he would ever know. "Oh, Iz..." you sighed, hating that he evwn had to question you.

He mistook the anguish in your gaze for pity. Something ugly reared it's head, twisting and snarling in the cavern of his chest. Of course, that's what this was, pity. The self-hatred whispered, finding glee within it's malicious words. No one could possibly ever love him. He was good enough for someone as kind as you, as pure..as..as... "I don't need your fucking pity, crewmate." he snapped back but there was no real bite to his bark.

"M'not pitying you, Iz. I'd never disrespect you like that." you did your best to reassure him, as you curled up closer in his now slack embrace. Arms loosely holding you, with no real intent in keeping you secure in his embrace. You missed the contentment and peace that had settled over you both, just mere moments ago. Despite his close proximity, Izzy may have well been miles away. You hated that you were losing him to his own damned mind. "But it's true. Existing is just easier when I'm around you. I can't really explain why. I just know what I feel. You make me happy. Really happy." you spoke with urgency, as you fwlt your bond slipping through your fingers. Hell, you were close to balling up his shirt in your fists and giving the man a good hardy shake. Or a bruising kiss- you were yet to make a final decision.

Your confession brought nothing more than an extended silence. This one far less comfortable to endure. "Look, ignore me. I'm...I'm not asking any sense and besides, you might not even think of me like that-"

You continued to ramble but Izzy was still mulling over your prior words. He made you happy. You had said, explictly and without being under duress. He made you...happy. What else had you said? Oh, right! Being around him made existing easier. Gods, he could not just sit there, looking dumbfounded, as you tried to backtrack on your confession. Say something, man! Say something! "I might not be all flowery with my words like Bonnet but that doesn't mean..." he murmured, cutting through your babbling and effectively silencing you, as you waited with bated breath for him to finish his train of thought. Watching you now, with your wide, hopeful eyes, Izzy hated to admit it but Lucius had been right. Even now, all he was doing was staring at you, instead of actually vocalising just how much he adored wvery fibre of your being. "Fucking Spriggs." he muttered, angry at himself...and maybe the scribe. Just a little bit.

"Spriggs?"

"Ignore that. Look, I wouldn't be sat here peeling fucking oranges for you, if-" but before he could utter a further sentiment, a playful rat-a-tat-tat sounded against the oak door. Disrupting the pirate's train of thought and instantly putting him in a foul mood. Gods, was there no such thing as privacy in this place? "Oh, for fucks sake. Come in!"

Speak of the evil one and he shall appear. No other than Stede Bonnet, popped his head around the door, wearing that usual dopey grin of his. "Hello! Just me." he cheerfully greeted you both, completely unaware of the emotionally charged moment he had just unintentionally poured a proverbial bucket of water over.

The First Mate's disdain for the Gentleman Pirate could not have been more palpable. If looks could kill, the blonde would have been dead a thousand times over. "What do you want, Bonnet?"

Somewhat sheepishly, Stede explained, "I thought you should know that Frenchie is finally awake. He should be well enough for visitors later on and-"

"That's great. Can you fuck off now please?" the grin that played upon Izzy's lips was merely a formality. There was nothing friendly about his tone, nothing that actually suggested that he was pleased to have received the update.

"Right, sorry!" the co-captain said with a laugh, finally recognising that he may, in fact, not be exactly welcome in the room. Of course, you were always- mostly- happy to chat with the man but since his arrival had cut short Izzy's confession, even your hospitable personality was wearing thin. "You two were probably in the middle of something. I'll pop by later."

"Oh, deep joy!"

"Izzy!" you chastised your beloved, horrified at just how rude he was being now. Watching the other man quickly make his exit, you did not hesitate to use the little energy you possessed to swat the silver-haired pirate on the arm. "You gotta start being nicer to him. Stede's a good Captain." the quirk of Izzy's eyebrow had you sighing, knowing full well that, you had told a bold faced lie. "Okay, he's a good guy but a shitty Captain."

Much to your annoyance, your admission earned you a smug look in return from the silver-haired pirate. "That's better." he muttered, settling himself back down against the pillows, dragging you down along with him, to once again, rest against his broad chest.

The previous calm fell over you both once more, as you felt yourself lulled into that welcome sense of security. Whilst in Izzy's hold, it felt like nothing insidious could ever befall you again. He truly was you guiding lighthouse in the storm of life. As the minutes slipped by, the window of opportuniry for the pirate to finish his previous sentence, grew shorter and shorter. Unable to take the silence anymore, you felt yourself moved to say something. "Moments kinda been ruined, huh?" you joked but there was funny in what you asked. Internally, you were screaming for an answer. What had the First Mate intended to say to you, before he was so rudely interrupted?

It was Izzy's turn to tense beneath you and blush tomato red, as he struggled to utter a single syllable. Gods, there was so much he wanted to say and yet, words escaped him. How did you and Stede fucking Bonnet express yourselves so freely? You may as well have spoken in sonnets, in comparison to his fumbling attempts to express just how dear you were to him. No, no! It was all too much, too overwhelming. He could not do it! Abort mission! Abort mission! "I think I just need some time to...to think things over." he eventually grumbled, as he watched your expression carefully, just waiting for the inevitable disappointment to mare you features.

He should have known better by now, not to expect such a negative reaction from you. Much to Izzy's surprise, you offered him a smile.

Hiding your heartbreak well. It would not be fair to him, you mused, to expect declarations of love, from a man of such few words. Live languages were funny like that. Each person had a different way of expressing their emotions. Perhaps yours was through praise, promises and sweet nothings but had your beloved said, not only a mere hour ago, that he would not peel you an orange, if he did not care? Maybe Izzy's love language was acts of service. Yes, yes, that was it! "That's okay, I understand." and you meant it, every word.

That was not enough for the silver-haired pirate, who still feared his inadequancies would be his ruination. "Hey," he caught your chin with his fingers, gently tilting your head to look back up at him. "That doesn't mean I don't fucking care about you, okay?" an intensity unlike anything you had ever witnessed before, burned in those captivating eyes of his. "Just...just be patient with me."

"Oh, Iz." you grinned at him further, with nothing but adoration twinkling like the brightest of stars in your eyes. "I'd wait until the end of time for you."

====

The following morning.

The knock on the door was indeed a surprise for the Captain, as he wiped his mouth free of crumbs. Whilst interruptions at breakfast were common on the ship, at the inn, there had been a lack of daily visitors to their quarters. Stede could not imagine who would be wanting his attention so early in the morning.

His own amour was not one to wait outside the door of their shared accommodation. Usually, Ed just left and returned as he pleased. That particular daybreak being a prime example of such behaviour. Stede had awoken to find his boyfriend's slumbering form, absent from their bed. All that had been left in his wake, was a sweet note, reading, 'Gone fishing. Be back later. I love you. Ed x'

So, with the other pirate most likely being confined to a small row boat for the better part of the day, there was no telling who stood beyond the closed door. Stede's initial consideration was that, it was the doctor, coming by to deliver an update on the patients (or asking for more money). However, as the Captain recalled but a moment later, the physician was not due to check in on his patients until at least noon. So, that ruled him out as a potential caller.

The next round of persistent thuddings knocks, had a now aggrieved Gentleman Pirate up on his feet and casting his napkin aside. "Alright! Alright! No need fo break the door down, I'm coming!" well, really! Could a man not enjoy his jam and toast in peace? He thought in a huff, knowing that nothing good could possibly await him at such a time of day.

Swinging the door open, perhaps a tad more aggressively than he had intended too, the blonde came face to face with that oh-so-familiar scowl, he had come to absolutely loathe. Especially when it was directed solely at him. Despite his grievances, Izzy presence darkening the door was indeed a cause for concern.

The First Mate was now so intrinsically associated with you and your wellbeing, that Stede felt a sudden rush of panic, at the assumption that further ill-fate had befallen you. Sensing the other man's worry, Izzy suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. As if he would rely on Stede fucking Bonnet an actual crisis! "I'm not here about (Y/N)'s health."

Although, credit given where credit was due, he had been...pretty helpful during the storm and Izzy supposed that, Stede had played a vital role in keeping you in a stable condition, until they had arrived in the Republic of Pirates. Plus, he was the only one the silver-haired pirate could talk to about such a personal and pressing matter. "I need your help but if you breathe a word of this to anyone, especially Edward, I will cut your tongue out." Izzy threatened, his patience already wearing thin. Fuck, life really had been turned up on it's head since the storm. First the conversation with Spriggs, now Bonnet? Calypso really was having her fun toying with their lives, huh? She was certainly enjoying making Izzy's just that bit more unpleasant.

Though Stede liked to think the other pirate to be more bark than bite, he was not going to take his chances, only to find himself inpaled in the gut. Again. Taking the threat to heart, the Captain duly nodded, before stepping to one side, leaving enough room for Izzy to pass by him. "In that case, you had better take a seat. I'll pour us some tea."

[khonshus-stardust]

I'm Not Jealous

Pairings: Khonshu x Reader, (Slight) Marc Spector x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, nipple play, size kink, possessiveness (it’s Khonshu), use of toys, cum play, blow job, oral (male receiving)

Word Count: 3974

Summary: You're his. He's made this clear the last time you've interacted and ended up in your bed. It was your mistake though, thinking if you fuck him that'll ease him off. Nope, his possessive self is raging full two thousand percent. He makes himself clear once more this night. You'll be calling out for work for the next… week. There's no chance of you walking even to kitchen, let alone your car.

Author Note: Hey guys, sorry about the delay on writing stuff. I caught a mild case of Covid but it still made me super sleepy and tried. Plus, my chest was hurting. Anyhow, this is kind of an add-on to 'Jealousy? What Jealousy?' It can be read without reading that but it would always be nice to check out more Khonshu smut. There's not enough of that anywhere. That's why I'm fixing that problem.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 2

Younglings, take your asses out of here. Go play with your dolls. This isn't the story you were looking for.

Smut below the cut

Slender arms wrapped around your waist, rousing you from your slumber. A groan rumbled in the back of your throat. One of your hands slithered up to feel rough clothe attached to the limbs encasing you. You lightly shifted your body, turning the other direction, and buried your face into familiar feeling cloth.

The chest you were snuggled up against vibrated. A deep voice washing over you, nearly lolling you back to sleep. That when you heard another voice. It felt like cotton was in your ears. Man, how tired were you? You muttered the noises to be quiet and curled more into a ball. They needed to leave you alone so you could fall back asleep for a good day or so.

Yet, your mumbled words seemed to make to situation worse. Both eyes groggily blinked up to see a dirty gold crescent moon staring at you. Huh? Khonshu? Wha…? You pulled your head further back to find the god in front of you, on his side, arms wrapped securely around you. His skull resting carefully on top of yours.

Well, this was new. “Khon? Why are you in my bed? While I’m sleeping?” you questioned and went to sit up when the moon god wouldn’t allow for that. His arms tightened and kept you snug to his chest.

“I sensed a disturbance and found Marc sneaking into your apartment. He tried to get in your room while you were sleeping. I was merely protecting you, Stardust,” Khonshu defended, voice vibrating his chest. It’s not that you would complain about cuddles, especially with him but you still had some nerves.

Mention man scoffed and raised a brow at Khonshu’s words. “I’ve been told its okay to crash here whenever. I was just trying to see if they were awake. You should know Khonshu how much of a night owl they are,” Marc argued and gestured with his arms to make his point. You were able to fight against Khonshu’s hold to sit up.

Said god moved with you. You were promptly pulled into his lap, long arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close to him. What were you going to do with him? You tiredly rubbed at your eyes and stared over at Marc. “Khon, he’s fine. He literally has a key to my place for that reason,” you sided with Marc.

Khonshu made a noise of disagreement, head turned to the side. Then he moved so his beak was right next to his ear. “You shouldn’t have given him a key.” This time, you rolled your eyes and fought him to get up.

“We’re good friends, Khonshu. Of course I gave him a key.” It was far too early to be arguing like this. First, you needed some sort of energy substance to keep your eyes at least open before entraining this whole situation. You yawned and walked past Marc. He turned with you and followed you out.

The next moment, wind whooshed around the room. Khonshu stood in the kitchen, staff in hand. “I thought we got over the whole jealousy thing, love? I thought you took that out on me two nights ago?” you questioned. That night was wonderful but you thought it would help the problem not make it worse by the way it seems.

Out of the corner of your eye, Marc tensed up, eyes wide. “I thought that was a nightmare,” he shuttered. You raised a brow at him then chuckled.

“It wasn’t that bad. You’ve probably seen worse,” you countered and poured yourself a cup of water. Your words may say you’re nonchalant about what happened but… the heat rising to your cheeks said otherwise. That night… you wouldn’t believe it happened if it wasn’t bruises on your hips and thighs.

A glare was set on you from the man. “Still a nightmare.” You took a large gulp of water and looked at Khonshu not too far away. He stood tall, a tight grasp on his staff and beak facing you. His gaze was set heavily on you, you felt it. “I don’t know how you could even do that with him.”

“It’s simple. You humans do it all the time to procreate,” Khonshu stated and walked behind you.

“That’s not what I meant! Wait, were you trying to… knock them up?” Marc whispered that last part, eyes wide as he stared at the two of you. “Can you even do that?” Both of your faces are blushing heavily at his words. He did not just ask that. But that last question now makes you concerned. You weren’t on any birth control, not needing it for anything. Yet, if he could, a new whole problem would be created.

The god places a gentle hand on your shoulder, fingers on the cusp of pressing into your skin. “No, I wasn’t. And I can’t, to my knowledge,” he answered and pulled you close to him. His body now pressed against yours. “That shouldn’t be any of your concern anyhow, Marc.”

Whisps of anger slowly appeared on said human’s face. “It is my concern, Khonshu. They’re my friend. And you’re just an old, dead, bird god that’s an ass to me more times that I can count,” he growled and took a couple of threatening steps up to the two of you. Your brows furrowed at the action yet surprise sparkled in your eyes.

“A friend you say, but your actions say otherwise.” Khonshu leaned over you and put his beak right in front of Marc’s face. “Why are you so angry? They can choose who they want to have intercourse with.” He had a point that neither of you could counter.

Marc angrily stared up at the tall god, silently. The two kept the quiet as you slowly sipped at your water. You felt yourself beginning to wake the longer you watched these two.

To be honest, it was hilarious to see these two argue from time to time. It was always one thing after another with them. But they always got the job done in the end it seems. “Are you two done bickering? I want to get some drawings in before I have to go work,” you butted in and stepped away from them. Both turned their heads towards you as you moved.

“We’re not bickering,” they stated sternly at the same time. You could only giggle at their antics and start a path back to your room, hips swaying noticeably.

“That says otherwise,” you said over your shoulder and was about to enter your room. When you suddenly ran into a cool body. Confused, your followed up from the stomach to find Khonshu before. You hated when he did that out of the blue. You gazed at him, a brow raised. “You’re not helping your situation, babes.”

You took a step to the side to get around him but he mimicked your movements. “Marc?” Khonshu questioned, voice rumbling in his chest. “What do you say?”

It was only silence behind you. What does that mean? You were about to turn your head when he finally spoke up. “If you’re willing to share,” he growled out and marched over to you, only a couple of steps behind you. “And if they’re okay with it.” They were acting like you weren’t right between them.

“I’m sorry but what are you two inferring while I’m right here? Because I’m fucking clueless,” you said with a hip jutted out and a hand resting on it. Someone’s own was placed on top of yours. You were pulled back to a warm chest. An arm slithered around your waist, a warm breath tickling the back of your neck. But you did not question or fear who it was. “Marc.”

“You’ve fucked the mummy bird. Would you like to have a turn with me? I promise you’ll be taken care of,” Marc whisper lowly into your ear. This couldn’t be happening. He was asking that of you. You laughed internally at the way of how described Khonshu.

One of you hands came up and rested over top of the arm around your waist. His warmth slowly seeping into your bones. “That’s not the deal, Marc,” Khonshu growled in front of you. Nimble fingers grasped your bicep and tried to pull you from the man’s hold. It didn’t work. Two begin to tug at you. “They’re mine.”

Your brows fell as annoyance filled your veins. With a groan, you pushed at the two, effectively moving them away from you. They gazed at you in shock. Khonshu returning to his full stance. You turned to fully face Marc, a soft smile on your lips. “Could we talk about this later? But I wouldn’t mind having a turn with you.”

Marc’s hard façade cracked into a minute smile. You stepped close and kissed him on the cheek. That completely broke him. “Alright fine. I’ll leave… let you two talk this out,” Marc stated and stared at you for a few extra seconds. Then, he took his leave.

The moment the door closed with a soft click, arms wrapped around you. A yelp accidently escaped you as you were promptly lifted off of your feet. “Khon! Why do you have to be so possessive sometimes? Or should I say jealous?” you teased and felt yourself land on the bed on your back.

Mention god crawled on top of your form. “I’m not jealous, little one. It’s just, you’re mine,” he growled and spread your legs, moving to be between them. One of your brows raised at his antics. You laughed at his words though and shook your head. “It’s the truth, Stardust.”

“So what was that deal I heard mentioned? Have the two of you talked about having a threesome?” you decided to get it out of the way. It’s all you could think of when you heard that.

To be honest, if they have been discussing those types of things, you couldn’t feel opposed. It felt like it would truly satisfy you in a strange way. You gazed up at lean god above you and waited for his response. But Khonshu stopped what he was doing and just stared down at you. One of his hands resting gentle on your sternum. “I won’t be mad if you had been.”

His stiff body deflated as if he releasing a breath, he sighed. “I see the way you look at him. I don’t want to let you go. I want you as mine…. But yes, we’ve made conversation about it a couple of times.” He paused his words to let that hand on you move up to gentle grasp your chin. “Would you like that? With him?”

Shock surged through your veins yet you refused to let it appear on your face. The times you’ve been around his stagnant personality, you’ve never seen him this soft before. You smiled at this. “I’ll have to talk with him then the three of us but I wouldn’t mind. I kinda like that stuff, mentally at least,” you stated in return and began to feel a little self-conscience about what you had said. Your shoulders bunched up, head slightly lowered.

Khonshu seemed to make a strange purr/growl noise at this. “You would love to be used by us. Wouldn’t you, Stardust?” The sound and his words made you squeak yet you felt yourself getting wetter. He chuckled at your reaction and moved that hand from your chin to where your shirt ended. You barely nodded your head, letting him remove your shirt and bra from you.

His thumb soft rubbed over your nipple. You shivered at the feeling and let a hand touch his chest. “I know a few things he could do for that I cannot do in this form. What do you say? Let him suck on your breasts? Or maybe eat you out? Let him eat you like a thirsty man far from the Nile? Would you let him do that to you?” His free hand started at your knee and began to slowly roam up.

Another shiver raked your form. Your nails tug into the rough cloth that covered his chest, eyes softly closing on their own. The god chuckled, beak close to your ear. “I asked you question, Stardust.” The gentle ministrations turned a little harsh. He pinched the nipple he was playing with. You gasped, eyes flying open to peer up at him.

“Yes, Khonshu, yes! I would,” you confessed, hands gripping at what was in reach. His moving hand stopped at your hip, fingers pressing into the flesh there.

Gods, you wanted him to fuck you like how he did last time. Inside his own thoughts, he was thinking the same damn thing. Seeing you blissed out, sweat covering your skin. Maybe he’ll cover you with cum. That would mark you as his.

Only his.

He wished he had a tongue just to taste you but he can use Marc. That’s what he’s for. A hum sounded from him. “Good, Little Bug, good. We’ll set something up. But for right now-“ both hands now gripped at your waist band and pulled- “you’re mine. I’ll show you.”

Your pants were promptly removed from you. Same as your underwear. Everything seemingly thrown hazardously into the darkening room. The sun soon to set.

Each leg was spread wide to accommodate the large being before you. Even as lean as he is, he still was bigger than a human. That thought made you silently keen. His hand rested on your mound, thumb drawing light circles around your clit. Not this again! You just wanted him to fuck you. “Khon, just fuck me. Please. No more teasing,” you begged and played the puppy dog eyes on him. It usual worked on him.

This time was completely different than that.

A chuckle sounded from the moon god and he shook his head. “I was able to get you to come once before I even fucked you. How about two times?” his words rolled over you like melting butter. Your eyes widened at that, brows furrowing.

“But, Khon… I-I, it’s hard for me to come more than once. That was luck last time. I don’t think I’ll be able to this time,” you confessed and pulled your arms to your chest, heart thumping against its boney cage.

If the god could, he would’ve raised a nonchalant brow at this. Hm. If that’s the case, he might need more than just his fingers and cock. He wanted to ensure you were comfortable and confident. That’s biggest part on making you come, let alone the three times he wants at least.

He sat up, hands resting on your thighs. “You already sent Marc away so I’ll have to be creative.” Even with a face that cannot move, you could hear the smirk in his voice. That made you worried on what he had up his sleeve and tilted your head. He didn’t say anything else.

The bed creaked under his weight. Khonshu stretched a long arm and pulled open your second nightstand drawer. Fear and embarrassment filled your veins. “Wait!” you called. He placed a hand on sternum and forced you still. How does he know? Yeah check the first one but he completely bypassed that and went for…

Metal squeaked quietly. The hand on your chest let his thumb softly run over one of you nipples, slightly distracting me. You tried to wiggle to stop him. “There’s nothing in there! No reason to op-“ Khonshu pulled out a pink vibrator.

Blood flushed to your instantly, hands grasping at the sheets below. All you could do was pathetically stare at the object he held in front of you. “I’ll have this to help me.” He set it off to the side and plucked something else from the drawer. Nipple clamps. Gods, you hoped the ground opened up and swallowed you whole.

You used your hands to cover your blushing face. A groan sounded from the back of your throat. But a sudden thought hit you. “How did you even know those were there?” You refused to uncover, surviving in the darkness.

The god chuckled. “I have my secrets,” is all he gave to you before setting both objects to the side. Khonshu returned to his former position. One thumb teasing your nipple, the other circling around your clit. A soft gasp coming from you.

Before you could let yourself fully embrace the feeling he was pushing you towards, you were able to place a hand on his shoulder. “Wait, wait. Khon, can you…” you trailed off, unable to fully say what you want.

“Can I what? Come, Little Bug. Tell your god what you want.” Both of his hands didn’t slow, still keeping a constant, even pressure.

Words failed you. How could you ask such a thing from anyone? Let alone him! You bit your lip, hand fiddling with rough texture of his clothing. His own on your chest moved back up to your chin and grasped it. “You can tell me, Stardust.”

With a deep breath and a moment of hesitance, you spoke your mind, voice quiet. “Ca-can you let me see…” Come on, you can do this! It’s just Khonshu. “Your dick, please.” You were finally able to get off of your chest. His head quirked to the side.

“Is that what got you all nervous? You wanting to see your gods cock? You don’t need to be so embarrassed about it, Stardust. I’ll happily show you.” The hand on your chin was removed and headed towards what could be considered his belt. With nimble fingers, the strange looking belt was removed from his waist.

Once that was dropped, he messed with the wrappings that covered that area. Yet, when he pulled his flaccid, cream-colored cock out, your lips pressed together.

Since he was kneeling between your open legs, the god was within reach. Without another word, your hand easily grasped the only part of him that looked like flesh. A purr/growl noise rumbled in his chest, movements stuttering. You smirked at this and gave him a decent squeeze. He bowed his skull, beak brushing against the skin on your stomach.

As you went to start a slow pace, a nimble hand wrapped around yours and hesitate to pull you off. “This is about you. Not me. I’m going to take care of you.” His words made you melt but still.

You pulled out your famous puppy dog eyes. “Please, Khonshu. I wanna, you know,” you pleased, hand trying to grasp his cock again. His size easily fit his stature. Not the thickest, though it didn’t feel that way when he was inside of you, but his length was impressive.

Khonshu didn’t say anything, only letting his thumb finally rest on top of your clit. Your eyes widened at the feeling, hips on the verge of humping. “Only if you tell me what you want. That’s the deal,” he countered and held a tight grip around your wrist.

“But-but you know what I want!” He shook his large head and let his thumb press harder. You couldn’t help but to thrust your hips up, gaining friction. A moan spilled from your lips at this. Yet, a thought came to your head. This might be plan to distract you.

No. You shook your head and attempted to reach forward but he wouldn’t allow that. With a growl and through gritted teeth, you gave in. “I want to suck you off, okay?” The god before you snickered, shoulders shaking with the movement. You rolled your eyes with a slight pout.

He released your hand, snapping you out of your pout. Before he had the chance to change his mind, you were quick to grasp his dick again and squeezed again. Khonshu rested that hand on your chest, head slightly bowed again. “You’re going to be the death of me, Stardust. You know that?” Laughter bubbled softly in the back of your throat.

As his thumb played with your clit, you leaned forward onto your elbow and stroked him. When you got to his base, you applied pressure. At his tip, you ran your thumb over the end.

Tiny spurts of pre-cum smeared across that same finger. You brought it up to your tongue and gentle licked it okay. For one, you weren’t expecting that. For two, you truly don’t mind the taste. You hummed at the taste before returning to your previous movements.

But greed over came you. You are human after all.

You disregarded the hand between your legs and moved to be on your stomach, face in front of his hardening cock. As you did this, the wetness growing couldn’t be ignore. The god was effective, something you couldn’t just ignore. “Little Bug, what in the world do you think you’re doing?”

“I told you what I wanted to do,” you sassed at him then take a long lick from the base to tip. Khonshu choked on his next words. A hand resting on top of your hair. When you got to the top, you wrapped your lips around just the tip and suckled.

The hand on your head grasp what strands of hair he could. Pain flared to life at the grip strength but you ignored it and just sucked. Your name was stuttered from the god. He was having an internal battle on letting you suck him off or just say fuck it and pound into you. Ever since last time, he couldn’t get over the fact you’re so small compared to him. That made you so tight around him.

To make the whole situation though, he reached forward with his other hand and slight a finger into your cunt. The slick that had been growing since the two of you started easily helped guide him in.

A moan was vibrating in the back of your throat. That sent waves of pleasure of his spine. Khonshu pulled on your hair towards him. You did your absolute best to accommodate his length. “Good,” he purred, fucking purred. He sounded like sin.

All he could wish for in this moment was a mouth and tongue, just so you could feel the same way he is. He gently thrusted as he moved your head in a gentle rhythm. Still having half the mind of your comfort and safety. “Stardust!” his voice went up an octave. It was all you doing this to him.

Suddenly, your head was pulled back, body pushed onto your back. The moon god crawled to be between your legs, a hand quickly stroking his cock.  Quiet whispers of your name were rumbling in his chest.

Finally, his skull was thrown back. White ropes of cum spurted from his cock all over your chest and stomach. A lot more than what the average person could produce covered what he could reach. You simply reached down and took a scoop. It had the same consistency as humans. Then, you decided to take a full taste. Not half bad for a god that like looked a mummy.

When he was done, a low hum growled from deep in his chest. Even without eyes, you could feel a dangerous gaze set ablaze on your already fiery skin. “Khon?” you whimpered in the quiet.

A deep chuckle sounded from him, shoulders shaking with the noise. “Your turn, Stardust.” You were promptly pounced on by the moon god.

[shibe-myths]

( In response to my other ask about the pantheon of gods)

Yes I would

This is gonna be long, expect multiple parts.

Edalehan Deities

Gwælbáeth.

Lady of Light, Goddess of Justice

The Goddess of both an ancient death cult found in Edalehan and that of the Goddess of Justice, Gwelyn, Gwelbáeth is the personification of the Dale’s tribal past and of the Houses that make up what remains of the past. In later years she became known as Gwelyn. In her divine form she took on the aspect of a winged she-ram, better known as a Satyr with a woman’s torso and goat legs, a pair of ram’s horns sat atop her head. In her divine aspect she was seen dressed in a man’s toga, one breast on full display- tattoos and all, while the other was chastely covered. Her hair was the color of the darkest of ink with eyes the color of the deepest greens was seen across several paintings born during that time. Scholars claim that her weapons of choice were an ironwood bow and axe, and from eyewitness testimony, her arrows were bolts of air.

Gwelyn was one of the few gods to have arisen, before the She-Dragon’s rampage. However, it is not known when or how she came to have awoken- if she ever was asleep in the first place. The Goddess of Justice was also one of the few gods found to be at full power at the time of the End. In journals and paintings dated around the same time as The Fell, Gwelyn is seen shooting arrows at the She-Dragon and her followers while the sea rises in anger at her feet. The goddess is also believed to be one of the first gods to to have vanished not long after the arrival of Magic. No one knows if the Goddess of Justice and Light was killed or not, however, like her daughters, she has not been seen since.

Dwæla.

Twin of Life, Goddess of Death

Twin of the Three-faced Life Goddess, Morcana, nine-winged Dwæla ruled over the other side of her sister’s coin, in the domain of Death. Specifically on where the dead dwelled, The Final Plains. She along with her sister were one of the few gods who did not awaken during the rise of the She-Dragon, nor have they been seen since. Instead, they still slumber in places unknown. From murals it can be deduced that Dwæla was similar in form to both her mother and sister, with goat horn atop her head and goat legs. Unlike her mother, she possessed an additional seven wings, the eighth having been removed for unknown reasons. Like her sister she appeared in the form of a young girl with solid green eyes and dark lifeless flesh.

Morcana

Twin of Death, Goddess of Life

The Three-Faced Goddess of Life, much like her sister, Dwæla, Morcana has not made an appearance on the mortal plane in eons. Instead, it is only her influence of creation that has been witnessed in the rise of new species and races that tells us that she still lives. In murals, Morcana took on the visage of a young faceless girl born with small horns atop her head and three floating masks, or faces, that she would change into depending on who she spoke to. Her true face was never seen, however one myth claimed that if one were to ever look under it, they would find themselves entranced. Like her sister and mother, she possessed a pair of wings, however hers had never matured and remained close to her body, unfeathered and burnt.

The Burning Stag

Master of Good Omens, God of the sky

The Burning stag, while ancient, was believed to be a strange god formed long time before The exile of Elves. Born from a backwoods cult, The Burning Stag was one of the few gods to have been awake before the She-Dragon arose as well as one of the few gods to have never taken on the aspect of a human. Fully seen as a Deer, The Stag is believed to have been hunted by the She-Dragon’s followers for three months and eleven days before falling to her merciless talon. He was the first to perish at her hands and it was his blood that many believed to have brought back magic. Or cursed us with it more like it.

The Deer God’s bones and horns make up both the Godswood’s throne of the Round Table, where King Dugant and his Mistress of the Hunt sit during meetings, as well as the King of the Deep Wood’s crown. Neither acknowledges the fact that neither worshiped the Burning Stag, nor that his followers have all since vanished past the Fell-Mountains. Interestingly a few of the Groa and Lilibuel bear shields with the aspect of a burning deer...

The God of the Forest

The Whisperer, God of the Mother-grove.

The God of the Forest, also known as The Whisperer and Bane of the Phantom was a possible Godling, who lived at the edge of the Fell-Mountains in what is Modern day Edalehan. He took on the form of the mutilated corpses of both man and Deer. With elongated limbs, rotted flesh spliced with hundreds of eyes along his flesh. antlers and horn ridges that ate at the festering crown of his head, and a twisted- doglike smile filled with jangled teeth that made up his mouth. It is known that he could drive followers of his and other gods to madness with just his voice- and some believe it was he who maddened the She-Dragon. His voice still calls for rescue and vengeance even as its speaker sleeps.

Not much else is known about The God of The Forest, other than the fact that he was born not long before the Rise of the She-Dragon and that he was turned to stone while in mortal combat with a woman only known as The Ghost by modern historians. His body can be found in the deep forests, just south of The Thuldarans, his killer's body however was taken not long after the battle and was interred in a mausoleum within the Deep Forests of what once was Dunholde, by a hamlet that claimed to have been saved by her while she still lived. The bones of her steed are buried below her glass casket. Those who journey to her resting place have noticed that her body has not decayed since her ‘death’; as her blood still oozes and her lips seem to still draw breath. She has not aged in the near six-hundred and fifty-three years since her death. A Mourning Owl guards her grave, though none know why.

Grima, The Crone

Crone of The Mother Grove, Seer of the God of the Forest

The Crone is not a god in the traditional sense, it is believed that she was once the follower or mother(?) of the God of the Forest, who was eventually given immortality and magic not long before the rise of the She-Dragon. Or that she was one of the first mages to be born during the age of the elves. Either way, she is an ancient beast,

It is said that both she and The Ghost are bound by the God of the Forest and that they will not perish until either magic is taken from the earth or That every God has perished. She is often seen as an exceedingly elderly woman with deep, purple and pitch black sclera. She wanders the Deep Forests and the various slopes of the Fell-Mountains in search of children and the lost to sacrifice to her god. Driven mad by unheard voices. She is seen as an ill-omen to those who travel in the area.

Though, there are times when The Crone is calm, in these times she takes on the visage of a middle-aged woman with ink-black muck for hair and funny lilac eyes- she tends to help passerby and claims her name to be that of Grima and that she is searching for her missing children; a girl and a boy named Lorelei and Zagreus. However, few know if this is to be true. When she is in this Grima persona she tends to give startlingly accurate fortunes and advice.

Domus

Shadow of Death, God of Guiding the Dead

An ancient psychopomp, Domus is believed to have never gone to sleep before the rise of the She-Dragon. Forced to wander the lands of Tor in search of the Dead, he was one of only a few gods able to survive the fall of Gods and the rise of Magic. Even the She-Dragon bade him credence once he came for her soul, or so it is believed. Taking on the aspect of a young man in a traveler’s cloak, his veil was a black as the night and his blade gleamed with the wrath of the last soul he slew. It can be noted that he was seen in the company of the shapeshifting godling, Rūn not long after the fall of man.

Rūn

Hound of secrets, Godling of loyalty.

The shapeshifter Rūn is a godling, born from the remnants of a tribal-woman and a wolf within an unknown Mother-Grove. It is not known how old Rūn might be, seeing as how they frequently come up with different answers depending on their rather weathervane mood. Though, what is known, is that they chose to wander the earth in search of adventure and companionship. Even while they are a new god, Rūn is old enough to have seen the end of the old world and the rise of magic in their human and wolf lives respectively. In their Godling form, Rūn has seen much, much more, though they do not always understand it. Recently they have taken up following the Psychopomp, Domus for their own amusement.

Rūn takes on the appearance of either: a robust Canine of impressive size- with silver fur and yellow eyes, or that of a human of either gender with silver hair and yellow eyes. Not much else is known about them other than the fact that they enjoy wandering and keeping their life debts. The only thing that remains are the eyes and color of their fur/hair. Yellow and silver.

[jjungkooksthighs]

“My mother used to tell me stories about our ancestors. It was said that the first rulers of our kind, who were chosen by the gods, were given abilities no others possessed.” Your mate tosses the soiled dressings into the bowl before he reaches for his splinted arm wrapped in bandages. “Abilities that made the rest of our kind lower their heads in awe.” He unties the knot you’d made out of the ripped fragment of your gown you’d affixed the wooden board to, and while he does, he tells you, “She told me that the king and queen of our kind were fated by their souls. That the first omega’s songs of mourning had so moved the gods when he’d been killed trying to protect her that they gave her the power to heal him through her kiss.”

Slumber drags you away from him, his voice fading the more it tugs and tugs you as he goes on. “So powerful was she that the other wolves revered her as a goddess in her capacity to mend and restore not only the physical body, but the soul and mind as well. And her king? He was vested by the gods who took pity on him with strength, speed, size, and stamina that no other could match.”

I am in utter awe of you, Athanasia! How you project the character's emotions and thoughts so strongly, with so much passion and unbridled sentiment, I will never know. I had goosebumps when I read this chapter! It was the perfect mix of angst, fluff, and fantasy. I'm usually not one to read or pick books with fantasy as a genre, but, COC is one of those few works that have captured my attention for the best of reasons. I am so, so happy you were able to post it. It shows that some part of you still believes in your talent and expertise. Cling onto that hope, because, trust me, you are absolutely wonderful at writing. There's a certain passion that you always deliver through the way you structure your sentences and choose your words. It's very very rare to see as an ardent reader. Your writing moves me. It always has, and it always will. I have no doubt. There's no way a person with so much passion toward writing could ever fail in it. Sure, there can be times when you feel like you aren't up to the mark, but, things will get better. It's easy to say, I know .. but, please, just trust the process. I've said this before, so, forgive me if this sounds repetitive, but, I cannot seem to wrap my head around how anyone could ever say your writing isn't good- hell, how it isn't one of the best! I absolutely loved the chapter! It had me tearing up, blushing, giggling, and I cannot wait for more! Just.. keep going. You're doing great, Athanasia. With lots of love, Lily.

Lily,

I think if being a hype woman could have an award for best one, you would certainly win it.

You have been so kind to me throughout my writing process and honestly, this chapter wouldn’t have been posted without your support. Part of the reason I waited so long to respond to this was because I just couldn’t find ways to express how I wanted to tell you what I felt.

I doubt myself constantly, as you know, and you’ve been there time and time again to pull me back up when I’ve fallen to the point that even I don’t think there will be a way to get back up again.

I wondered, ceaselessly, if I should post this chapter. I pondered, continually, how I would pick up from where I left off months ago. It hardly feels like it’s been months since my last post, but it has.

How time passes so quickly- and continues to hasten even faster- baffles me.

Though the hands of time have continued pushing on, you have made its passage one that is bearable.

Thank you for always believing in me. I wish I could find the words to express how thankful I am for you and your warm presence that makes dark days lacking of the chill that usually finds me.

I’m so happy you can find enjoyment in what I create and that I can give (even if it’s just a little) of that warmth that beams from you. Things are tough, but you are nothing if not determined to rise, just as the sun.

There is so much I wish I could say and so much more I want to convey if only I knew words that were meaningful enough to show you what I wish I could share with you.

You really are such a kind soul and I’m grateful that you decided to reach out to me so many months ago over the emotions that my story built up in you.

So, thank you. For so much more than your compliments here. For being here when so many others gave up on me. For sharing such detailed medical knowledge with me so that this chapter could be possible. For being so willing to listen to me when I wanted to throw you random ideas that I wasn’t even sure would ever make it to a document. For being a companion that I didn’t ever expect to find.

You deserve to have someone like the alpha in your life. Someone like Namjoon and Seokjin. It is my hope that my characters can fill those roles for you in the meantime.

I also hope you will continue to put your belief in me and that you continue to love my stories. You’re a gem. Really, you are. I’m proud to be mutuals with you!

[evilhasnever]

hmmmmMMMM if you’re still taking prompts I have lots of fondness for Fallow Fields!verse

Thank you so much! This turned into a vague Meng Shi POV (cw: some misgendering of A-Yao from SiSi, but she does love him. A-Yao has two moms.) This is pretty sad, given that it's about a trans kid in a brothel, and it is also... very much 1000 words about periods. No idea what possessed me to write about that. It's not a lot of fun, but no other CWs apply other than the above + Meng Shi's implied health issues.

(and here's a link to Fallow Fields, though you don't need to read it to understand this!)

If all of that is alright with you, proceed under the cut.

Meng Yao was thirteen when the first bleeding came. Later than most, but he was so small he still looked like a child younger than his age. Meng Shi had known it was going to happen sooner or later, and told her kid to come to her immediately when it did, making sure nobody spotted him on the way. 

And so he did - her A-Yao snuck into her room one early morning after spending the night god knows where, his outer robe wrapped around his waist and bunching awkwardly down over his thighs.

“Mama, I am bleeding,” A-Yao confessed, thighs pressed together fitfully and a painful grimace on his little face. “But nobody knows. I made sure of it.” Some blood had gotten on the hem of his sleeves, somehow.

“Come here my heart,” Meng Shi murmured, getting up from the bed even though her bones felt brittle. “Do not worry, we have everything ready for such a thing.” 

A-Yao turned wide, trusting eyes towards her. Such a good child, he wouldn’t say pointless things like that he didn’t want this, or that it hurt. Even though Meng Shi knew both of these things were true. She wished it had waited a few more years, until they were free from this place. But time doesn’t wait for anyone; A-Yao was small and gaunt, but he’d started hunching more lately, preemptively concealing a chest that was barely there, and Meng Shi wouldn’t be able to hide him for much longer.

“It doesn’t change anything, my heart,” she assured, gathering a few things. “Just make sure to wear a catch cloth, like this, and wash your own clothes where nobody can see. Does it hurt a lot?”

“Not a lot,” A-Yao replied, obediently. She didn’t quite believe him, but pinched his cheek nonetheless. It was caked with grime, as it often was. Making sure A-Yao looked every bit like a street rat was the best defense against customers’ wandering eyes.

“Wash up and then lay down for a while, my dear. Mama will take care of everything.”

“I need to practice drills,” A-Yao protested, but he went to the water bucket willingly. 

“You can do that in the afternoon,” Meng Shi shushed him. “You can’t practice when you haven’t slept. A good sleep is a gentleman’s best friend.”

She helped him dress in clean clothes, showed him how to secure a cloth between his legs and not let it slip, then put him to bed with whispered reassurances. She petted his head until he fell into an uneasy slumber, and did not stop even as her joints ached with the repeated gesture. It had been a long night, and it would be an even longer day - she didn’t dare to sleep with her baby so troubled. 

“Shi’er, why are you still awake?” 

SiSi walked into the room with an armful of clothes that needed mending, makeup still on her face and her hair only half-up. She spared an assessing glance for A-Yao taking up the bed, then the bloodied clothes Meng Shi had balled up in a basket. 

“Shit. The aunt came, huh?” she whispered, careful not to wake the child. “You should have sent her away sooner, Shi’er. Now it’s too late.”

Meng Shi shook her head. Even if she’d been able to part from her child, without money and without a family name there was nowhere for A-Yao to go.

“How did the babe take it?” SiSi whispered, drawing Meng Shi towards the other side of the room.

“My A-Yao does not complain,” Meng Shi said proudly, but she couldn’t conceal the grimace that wanted to creep on her features. “But it’s going to be difficult from now on. My health’s been poor as of late, I must pick up the slack.”

SiSi gave her a disapproving but affectionate gaze. “Making it look like the kid has mange is all well and good, but plenty of creeps out there would not care. If the Madame so much as smells the blood on her, she is going to sell her first night before you can even say no,” she said darkly, echoing Meng Shi’s fearful thoughts. “Your rich man needs to come back soon, or Yao’er will lose any chance of ever marrying well.”

“A-Yao doesn’t need to marry,” Meng Shi reminded her firmly, her breath slightly labored as she stood to pick up the soiled clothes. “He will be a cultivator. Their rules are different. One can make their own way in the cultivation world if they’re strong.”

“Saying it doesn’t make it true, Shi’er. You filled your baby’s head with stories about gentlemanly heroes—“

“It was not my idea, it was A-Yao’s,” Meng Shi whispered heatedly. “Besides, it’s safer this way, isn’t it?”

SiSi groaned. “I want the best for the babe too, but—”

They both turned to look towards the bed, where A-Yao slept fitfully. His face was flushed and his lips rosy, the prettiness of youth inexorably blossoming on his features with each passing month, no matter how much they tried to conceal it with baggy clothes and powders. 

“SiSi,” Meng Shi sighed, closing the curtains between the little alcove and the rest of the room. “You know as well as I do that women hardly ever leave this place. If A-Yao can… if at least A-Yao could…” 

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. The shared helplessness weighed on the both of them heavier than a stone, but their hope was shared as well, flimsy as it was. That a bright and willful child could make it out, could become someone.

Meng Shi nodded in a final manner, even as a traitorous cough made her choke in her fist. “If A-Yao can learn enough cultivation, he will be welcomed by his father no matter what he wears. Who wouldn’t accept such a good, filial child? He only needs to be strong enough to make the trip - we can protect him until then.”

 “Well, I agree with you on one thing, Shi’er… do not send that man a daughter.” SiSi rubbed Meng Shi’s arm dejectedly, shaking her head. “I’ll go get some ginger root for cramps.”