#maybe to take his mind off his lost magic and the pain??

[antaripirate]

lila: *exists*

kell: *blushes like a slut*

i miss them desperately and we get them back in 60 days fuckkkkkkk

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s SStan Series Rec List

here are my sebastian stan series fic recs! they are mostly bucky barnes series but mainly Au’s! i will be creating separate lists for cevans one shots and sstan one shots😚

Clockwork - @sgt-seabass

When life seems to be finally back on track, a visit by a mob boss to your dainty town changes everything. (Dark!Alpha Nick Fowler)

The Soldat And The Sparrow - @navybrat817

Your fire burns for the Winter Soldier. And one day, you'll be free. Both of you.

For The Love Of The Game - @pellucid-constellations

Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it. 

The Heart Is A Deep Ocean - @dreamlessinparis

Titanic was known as the ship of dreams. For you, it was the dream of getting home, or so you thought. From the moment you locked eyes with James Buchanan Barnes, all those dreams changed and your life was never the same.

Everything’s Better In WestView - @espinosaurusrexex

Bucky and Y/N sneak into Westview to have the perfect life. Away from late Steve and Tony, Vision and Natasha, they let themselves be consumed by suburban magic. To their surprise, however, some of these people aren’t so dead in the town. And there are some other weird things happening that make them question their sanity. But that’s okay, right? ‘Cause everything’s better in Westview.

The Bride Of Soldat - @vampy-doll

In the summer of 1986, a young woman goes missing whenever HYDRA kidnaps her to be their next experiment for the reward of their Soldat. Now, post blip, Bucky starts to remember defining details of his love, his match made in hell, and is determined to find her. But after years of isolation and torture after his escape, she isn’t who he remembers. Now they’re trying to piece together who she was pre-HYDRA to teach her how to live, without his undying love and obsession of her getting in the way. But when one head is cut off, two more shall grow in its place, leaving them to discover those behind her abduction.

Awake My Soul - @foreverindreamlandd

It's been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you've learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He's been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren't telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you're put at risk, he'll stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Guiding Light - @wkemeup

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can.

The Witness - @wkemeup

Owner of a bar full of criminals, maybe you shouldn’t be surprised when you’re the sole witness to a hydra hit. In comes Detective Barnes, the quick-witted, flirtatious cop who somehow became a regular at your misfit bar. When he takes it upon himself to ensure your safety off the books, you learn to rely on someone else for a change and find you don’t mind it at all. Not when it’s him.

Under Oath - @ugh-supersoldiers

The people called for justice, the state answered. The trial of State v. Barnes is set to begin, and the odds are most certainly not in favor of the not so beloved ex Winter Soldier. That’s where you come in, the quick, smart, and all too brave lawyer set on defending and saving one Bucky Barnes from legal prosecution. The only problem? He’s not so sure he’s worth saving at all.

Just One Kiss - @sarahwroteathing

Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss?

He’s Hazardous To My Health - @writing-for-marvel

Bucky Barnes is a beefy paramedic with a traumatic past, who has left a trail of broken hearts behind him. You are a resident doctor new to town, who barely has time to date between long shifts. When your paths cross in your ER during a disaster, is it the start of something magical, or are you destined to be just another of Bucky’s former flames?

Just Try - @waiting4inspiration

Perfectly happy with your life at the Avengers’ compound, an alpha walks into your life, flipping it completely over and revealing secrets you hoped you had buried a long time ago.

Дорогая - @waiting4inspiration

Bucky's Winter Soldier programming has been triggered. Turns out the Winter Soldier has a thing for you.

Red Ties - @sebstan2020

Mary, a sweet Christian girl living in the city of Brooklyn as a nurse had a simple life. She loved her work, her friends and attending church every Sunday and helping Reverend Owens. Her life was nothing out of the ordinary. However, it all changed one day when she bumps into the intriguing and intimidating James Barnes, Brooklyn’s notorious mafia boss and is introduced to a world of guns, lust and dominance.

Delicate Edges - @wkemeup

Your family’s beloved flower shop was not the only thing you inherited when your parents passed. Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, you bear the cost of your father’s desperate bargain. It’s only in moments when the charming Bucky Barnes walks into your shop that you can forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. The border is crumbling. You're trapped in the middle. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Pride And Privacy - @adrinktostopyourthirst

Bucky works on himself as he gets used to a roommate. Turns out, she has a much better room than him and he crossed the line.

Feelings Are Fatal - @sunmoonandeddie

After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

Appointments - @noctumbra

bucky barnes, finally being able to live freely in 21st century, accidentally gets a fuck buddy and starts to rediscover himself. the only weird thing about this situation is that you have to make an appointment to get railed by him. 

Lazarus - @sagechanoafterdark

Things are complicated between you and James Barnes. For you, life doesn’t mean much when you never stay dead for very long. But it might just be an ex-soviet assassin that convinces you to start living again.

Its A Deal - @justreadingfics

You’re out of a relationship of 10 years and you’re just in desperate need to get laid, no strings attached, no romance, no complications. You dear friend Natasha feels like she’s going to regret this later, but she might have the perfect guy to fulfill your needs.  

The Two Of Us - @bucky-bucket-barnes

You and Bucky go to investigate the phenomenon happening in Westview, New Jersey. While attempting to understand the issue, you yourselves are sucked into Wanda's world of pretend. Now, you believe yourselves to be the happily married Mr. and Mrs. Barnes; in real life, you are most definitely not a happy pair. It is up to you and Bucky to piece together what's happening while dealing with one another inside the hex.

Snow - @delaber

Tired of your constant bickering, Sam sends you and Bucky on a mission alone. When the worst possible outcome happens and you’re forced to spend several days together in a small cabin, you finally get to see a different, more pleasurable side to the man whose flesh you’ve always had a thorn in.

All Good Things - @sagechanoafterdark

After only three days of dealing with the annoying specter haunting you, you break the rules and accidently give a ghost a body. So what do you do when you find out the man you’re now sharing your your apartment with isn’t really a ghost and that haunted touch is a little warmer than you realized?

Welcome Home… Soldat? - @winterarmyy

Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

Heavy Metal Lover - @mypoisonedvine

every client is different, with different needs; but this client is, in every way, exceptional. (Sub!Bucky Barnes + Dominatrix!Reader)

Parent-Teacher Conference - @coffeecatsandcandles

James Barnes, a widowed single dad, had forgotten what love felt like and let it crush him, taking his daughter, Rebecca, with him. He was cold, rude, and arrogant, being one of the few teachers at Westview High School the students seemed to absolutely despise. But when you show up, a hopeful math teacher who’d previously taught Rebecca’s kindergarten class, and are adored by your students and colleagues- James’s attitude starts to change.

Duck & Cover - @whirlybirbs

you’re the howling commandos’ new medic (Sniper!Bucky Barnes)

Winter’s Mate - @maggyme13

The Winter Soldier threatens to get out of control with his instincts taking over more and more. After years of supressed ruts his body built up a resistance and Hydra need to find another solution. Deciding it would be the easiest to just give in. Hydra kidnapped the reader to turn her into a Omega in Heat using injections whenever needed.

Key’s In Your Ignition - @georgiapeach30513

Caught up in a sexual relationship with your father’s Vice President, and trying to not get caught.  Blind to everything else that’s going on in the club, and even your old crush, Bucky Barnes.  Not even noticing your brother and best friend flirting, until your father suddenly passes, and things in the club drastically change. (Ari Levinson + Bucky Barnes + Harvard Hottie- Hayden)

[love-rosaline]

how can i be guilty as sin?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ what if he’s written ‘mine’ on my upper thigh only in my mind?

enemies to lovers, mutual pining // pierre gasly x fem!reader

sequel - am i allowed to cry?

authors note - don’t fully know what i’m doing, so i’m sorry if it’s sucks, but if you enjoy my writing and want to request something then feel free to do so! :)

Hate wasn’t a strong enough word for what Pierre felt towards you, and the very same could be said for how you felt about him. You’d lost count of the amount of times your mutual friends would ask you precisely why this was, and neither of you were ever able to give an exact answer. At least not one that should be confessed out loud.

Pierre was well aware he was attractive enough to get almost any girl he wanted to fold for his attention, but not you. You were confident, you would flirt with anyone you wanted to so effortlessly, and you were just so annoyingly pretty. And what irritated him beyond belief was the fact he knew you were truly lovely, bubbly and sweet, just not to him. The moment he approached you’d tense up, expression falling flat and brows sinking into a disapproving frown. He wasn’t sure what he’d done for you to act so begrudgingly towards him, but he couldn’t get you out of his head.

You were never a fan of parties. They were practically a cocktail of social anxiety, sensory overload, and a debilitating pressure to fit in with the drunken dolts around you. But you decided you could make an exception on this occasion, after all, Charles was your best friend and who were you to miss his birthday celebrations?

Up until this point in the night, you had been leaning against the kitchen countertop overlooking the bustle of the party, engrossed in casual conversation with Alex, a glass of champagne in hand. Of course, she was your confidante, she knew each and every one of your secrets, so when she caught Pierre sauntering over in the corner of her eye, she sent you a playful grin before slinking away. This left you attempting to grapple at her arm to draw her back towards you, preventing her from isolating you with the Frenchman.

“Alexandra-”

“Hello you.” You internally groaned, practically hearing the cocky smirk before actually seeing it.

“Pierre.” You sarcastically smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“The pleasures all mine, really.” he rolled his eyes, letting out a theatric sigh before speaking again. “C’mon chérie, how long will it take for you to admit you at least tolerate me?”

“Tolerate being the operative word.” You flatly responded, swirling what little alcohol was left in your glass before tipping your head back to down the remains as if it were liquid courage. “At least make yourself useful, pass the champagne.” You gesture vaguely to the bottle stood beside Pierre, just out of your reach.

“What’s the magic word?”

”Oh yeah, never mind, I’ll get it myself.” You push yourself off the kitchen surface, moving to shuffle around him, but just as you went to grab the bottle he hooked his arm around your middle, gently restricting you from taking hold of the alcohol. You groan softly in protest. “You’re a pain in my ass Gasly, you know that?”

“Uh huh. Do you wanna know what I think?”

“Enlighten me.” His jaw slightly clenched at your bored tone, but he held his ground, taking the smallest step closer to you.

“You want me.” You could have easily denied the accusation, but you found yourself revelling in the way he positioned his body so close to yours, lips ghosting your outer ear as his hand slid down from your waist to rest comfortably on your hip. “You want me, you’re just too afraid to admit it,”

You weakly swallowed the lump in your throat, placing a hand on his chest and gently pushing him away, maybe even a little reluctantly. He smiled down at you, seeing your walls break down right there in front of him.

Shit.

[sebastianswallows]

Ardour — Chapter 3

— PAIRING: professor!Tom Riddle x Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Tom got what he wanted, he is the Hogwarts DADA professor. It's more tedious than he envisioned, but his day gets interesting when his favourite student comes to him for help after she is hit with a strong aphrodisiac.

— WARNINGS: smut, angst, hurt/cumfort, cunnilingus, Tom spilling in his pants like a teenager, sweet dirty talk, age difference (she is in 7th year), sex pollen, hints of incest (reader is a distant relative Gaunt, to give Tom something to find palatable about her, ok? I know, but... just go with it)

— WORDCOUNT: 5.2k

— A/N: Welcome to the last chapter of this fic! It is just 5k words of Professor Tom pleasuring his favourite student with his mouth. Enjoy! ✨

Tom gripped her by the waist and pushed her higher on the sofa. Her neck rested on the armrest now and she was perhaps less comfortable than before, but it gave Tom the space he needed. He went back to his tie and yanked it off, then his hands moved to unbutton his shirt, all the while keeping his eyes on her. Adara was breathing in a tired sort of way, somewhat stilted and pained. Tom, however, had begun to pant a little more as he faced the reality of what he was about to do — what he had chosen to do.

“Don’t worry, Miss Gaunt,” he said quietly to his student, adopting the most comforting voice he was capable of. “I’ll make you all better… I’ll clean you up. I…”

He, what? He wasn’t sure if he could say it.

And as he hastily unbuttoned his shirt, shoving one small irritating button out of its hole at a time, Adara looked at him with such open vulnerability… Her eyes did more to expose her than her parted legs and raised-up ruffled skirt. There was nothing hidden there, nothing left he hadn’t seen, hadn’t felt, hadn’t touched… His mind brushed against the surface of her own and shivered, recoiling almost, at the unfamiliar sense of trust.

She trusted him completely. And for some reason, Tom found that quite beautiful. It was a rare thing to see, especially from one of his students, and he couldn’t help but feel proud, maybe even a bit sentimental… Adara has allowed him to put his hands on the most intimate parts of her body, to see her and caress her and soothe her little heart — she was allowing him to take care of her, which was something he’d never really had. He’d always had to fight for everything he got, whether it was through coercion or lies or pure raw magical power, and yet here she was, opening herself up to him completely... When else would this ever happen again? Would it ever happen again?

Tom was lost in thought as he looked into her eyes, having almost forgotten about that small treasure between her legs — the chains of silvery essence that dripped from her, the velvet folds that pulsed and clenched, and the little pearl that gently throbbed above them… Almost.

With a hurried movement, he pulled his shirt off, yanked it angrily off his arm when it got tangled for a second, and threw it to the floor. With a bit more calm, he placed his hands over Adara’s thighs and caressed her skin as he leaned forward. His eyes fixed on her tired ones, Tom eased himself back a little, making himself comfortable, and gentled the girl open.

“Professor,” she whined, her neck tilting away from the hard armrest to rest against the back of the sofa.

“Shhh… It’s almost over,” he whispered. “I just need to… clean you up a bit… Will you let me?”

“B-but…”

“You said it still hurts, didn’t you?” he asked with a cocked brow.

“Y-yes, but why —”

“Let me do this,” he whispered hotly, sounding somewhat impatient now, and he knew how that tone of voice frightened her. It was almost as if she were back in his classroom, talking back to him, being argumentative and disobedient… She quieted immediately.

He smiled boyishly at her frightened little frown, but he had no intention of really hurting her, or even of speaking to her harshly. If she only knew the caring he felt for her deep down… She was his student, his best, his favourite, and beyond satisfying this newly acknowledged hunger for her, Tom wanted to see her healthy, happy, and safe. And the fact that they were, however distantly, related, both belonging to the doomed and disgraced House of Gaunt, only soothed his callousness further. The attention and affection that he’d always longed for, for himself, he could at least give to her… It was the closest he could come to feeling it himself — although by this point Tom was certain that, should he ask, she’d gladly reciprocate. At least, he hoped so.

She looked at him with a warm and tender gaze while her breathing grew more frantic. Seeing her professor’s lean, pale body was probably the last thing she ever expected, even in such a situation… He’d always been so proper, so composed, faultless as an unspoiled field of snow, cold purity as far as the eye could see — though clothed, consistently, in black. And so she blushed now not only from her own situation and the lingering effects of the Ardour Fly, but also from just seeing his naked arms — lean but fit, a young scholar’s arms — and when she dared trail her gaze upwards, his shoulders, his sharp clavicles, his chest… Pale and broad and smooth and dusted lightly with little black hairs that contrasted so sweetly with those two tight buds of dusky pink. On the side of his torso, on the right, she could spot a couple of little moles too. She wanted to kiss them, and closed her eyes tightly as the desire struck. She felt more shy at seeing him than she did at being seen herself.

Tom kissed the top of her knee and held his lips there for a moment, closing his eyes as he breathed in her skin. She winced, and by his waist, he could feel her feet flexing.

“Professor,” she whispered — not asking for anything, not asking anything, just saying it… acknowledging him, letting him know how thoroughly he consumed her senses.

He smiled and moved his lips lower, to the inside of her knee and her inner thigh and lower, more and more quickly, until his mouth was right above her tense stomach.

“How do you feel?” he asked quietly, his eyes still closed.

“Hurts,” she whined, her hips twisting.

He gripped her waist and held her still while he lowered his mouth and kissed the smooth skin there. “I’ll make it better,” he spoke against her lower tummy. “I promise.”

He didn’t know where that came from. Tom never promised anything, not sincerely anyway… But he meant it this time.

She whined at the feeling of his lips right above her aching womb, and gasped when he went lower. He kissed the softness of her mound, her girlish curls tickling his nose, and then his lips moved to her inner thigh, right next to where she hurt the most…

It was completely damp, slathered in her essence and her sweat, spread out in careless little splashes from when his fingers worked on her before. He kissed it off of her, the warm breath drying her a bit, before he moved to the other thigh and did the same. Above, he could hear Adara whimpering, wincing in discomfort… This didn’t soothe her needs, and if anything it only teased her further, but Tom wanted to do it, he wanted to lick her clean, just like he promised.

“Be still now,” he said in an oddly gentle voice. “This is good for you… This is what you need. I need to clean you, right here...”

Of course, why he had to do it with his mouth was something he didn’t feel like explaining right now, and Adara was too shy to ask — and too aroused, if she was being honest.

The sight of her favourite Professor’s dark head held between her thighs, his elegant pale hands holding her hips down in something that was half-clutch half-caress, his broad lean masculine back, and the feeling of his mouth lavishing her skin, it took her out of her mind, out of her body, and up into a vaporous experience where she was keenly aware only of herself, and of him… The rest of the world no longer existed. She felt herself being drunk up by him, mind and soul, just like her skin was nipped between his lips.

She felt like she was relaxed and tense all at once, her hips canting desperately into him, her legs trembling by his flexing jaw, hands restless as they switched from gripping the sides of the sofa to fisting at her chest…

And then he gripped her hips more tightly, pinning her down, and his kisses travelled inward.

Professor Riddle said nothing as he trailed his lips toward her folds, but he could feel himself breathing more deeply, and distantly was aware of his student breathing harder too. In the quiet of his office, he could almost hear her heart thumping — or was that his own?

She smelled more sweetly than he thought, and was so warm, still so dangerously warm from the effects of the Ardour fly… and throbbing. Beneath his desire to taste her, he pitied her. How much pain she must’ve still been in…

“There, there,” he gentled her, his whisper seeping into her core.

“Sir…?!”

“Don’t be scared,” he smiled, looking up into her eyes and swallowing the knot in his throat, swallowing the scent and taste of her that had gathered on his tongue. “I’ll take care of you, my good girl…”

And with a deep inhale, Tom stretched up a bit and placed a second kiss on the top of her soft mound. He lingered there a second longer than he meant to, distracting her a little while he spread her legs the slightest bit. Then, he leaned back down and closed his eyes, his head tilting slightly, and pressed a kiss right at her core. She was sweet, but beneath that, there was the lingering taste of Ardour Fly, like ginger and cinnamon.

He kissed her swollen folds as if they were her lips. It was loving and gentle, a caress, a pampering of her most sensitive and delicate parts... She moaned in a complaining sort of way, her thighs tensing, tickling his cheeks, but he wouldn’t move any faster. He was going to help her, clean her of the Ardour Fly, but he wanted to do it on his terms.

He took his time with her, his mouth teasingly still against her while her sensitive parts throbbed. They moved in their rhythmic way against his lips as if they were trying to kiss him back, to tease and tempt and coax him to pay them more attention… Tom smiled against her, and he gave it. His lips slowly opened wider, kissing her more fully, then wider still, trying to see if he could pull her fully in his mouth. He moaned against her taste and at the trickle of wetness she surrendered to him.

Holding his mouth open against her, he let his tongue slip out and briefly touched her little hole. Tom felt her jump and heard her gasp at the sensation, and he couldn’t help but chuckle smugly.

“Professor!” she moaned, her back stretching in a tense arch as her head fell limply back.

“Be good for me,” he groaned against her. “Keep your legs spread while I continue your treatment…”

She whined in complaint, but he felt her legs relaxing slightly, drawing further from his cheeks.

Tom sighed with satisfaction and eased his hands away from her hips, down the inside of her thighs, forcing her to spread a little wider as his face settled more closely to her core. With a greedy suckle, he pulled her lower lips into his mouth and held them there, letting their warmth sink into him. The taste of her flushed skin coated his tongue until there was no other taste in the world he could remember, and lightly, so lightly he was not sure she even felt it, he let his tongue slip to her little hole again.

But she did feel it — he could tell that she was shaking, her breaths coming in panicked panting heaves as he licked more and more, deeper into the place where she was hurting.

Without even a thought to the Ardour Fly anymore, Tom swallowed her down ravenously before he pulled his head away, letting her folds gradually slip from out of the tight hold of his mouth, and then lowered himself again, this time to lap on either side of them. He moaned as he cleaned up his good girl, drinking in every bit of her essence he could find, every drop of sweat, everything that wasn’t the darling taste of her skin.

Carefully, his hands went lower down her thighs until he could pull her lips apart with his thumbs, exposing her fully to him. Tom looked down at the maddening, his cheek resting on her right thigh. She was still so red… Her hole clutched at nothing and her little pearl throbbed.

He knew the feeling, or some equivalent to it, as in his trousers he felt ready to burst out of his skin. The whole of his loins felt wet with sweat and his pathetic seepings of desire. His manhood was fully hard and contorted in the tight confines of his clothes. Surreptitiously, he let himself rest more firmly down on it as he lay on his front on the sofa, groaning to himself.

Keeping her spread open, Tom leaned forward again and lapped right at her entrance.

“Aaaaahhh!”

“Still hurts, doesn’t it?” he sighed, speaking quietly. “It still needs something…”

“P-p-prof—”

“You’ve got a lot of that wicked powder here, don’t you?” asked Tom, looking up at her flushed face with a twinkle in his eye. “In this little place right here…?”

She bit her lip and nodded, forcing her legs to relax around her professor once more.

Tom smiled and licked his lips, then focused his dark eyes on her core again and spread her wider. It made the throbbing of her nub all the more visible as its little head was pulled out of its protective hood. The entrance to her body opened the slightest bit, a fat little dollop already waiting to flow out of it from the other side. Tom groaned and leaned in again.

The air around them was filled with sticky sounds, the clinks of wet kisses and the greedy lap-lap-lapping of his tongue. She moaned loudly, and Tom moaned with her. Adara blushed for a moment, thinking that he might have been making fun of her — but when she caught her breath and listened, she thought he sounded, if anything, hungry… and pained…

“Professor,” she sighed, one brave hand going down to cover his broad palm over her inner thigh.

Tom caressed her little fingers with his thumb while he kept tending to her with his mouth. He was still trying to remain gentle and cautious with his student, but the longer it went on, the harder it was for him to contain his own need. Her essence would not stop flowing, and he wanted all of it, wanted to taste every drop of it, wanted to drink from her until she fainted in his arms... He took a moment to look up at Adara's face, taking in her expression of confused pleasure, and then he quickly lowered his head again.

“Aaaahhh!” she gasped, her back arching sharply.

"Shhh... shhh... I need to focus, my dearest one," he whispered. "I promised to take care of you… Let me do it. Let me care for you..."

He was still being slow and cautious with her, and very, very thorough, leaving no bit of her skin without a suckling kiss or lick, but his groans had taken on a rougher, firmer tone. She could tell that he meant it, and she did her best to relax and let him do what needed to be done. She wanted him to take care of her, to make everything right, and yet the sensations she was feeling were becoming unbearably intense.

This was nothing like his fingers, which had been so firm, so sure, so precise in a devastating way… No, this was all fluid flesh and velvet dragging on velvet and the strong smooth muscle of his tongue, an organ she so often respected when he spoke during class, was driving her insane in a way she never thought possible. The whole sensation was like being made love to by a sentient body of water, or a flowing chaotic thing like a flame made flesh, and yet it was like none of those things… It was like nothing else in the world, and all she could do was stay still, be good for him, spread her legs, and let him hear her pleasured moans.

“Sir, that’s… It feels like… like…”

“Like what?”

The question came out slightly muffled, as Tom had let her folds slip from between his thumbs to come down back around his own. His mouth was buried as deeply into her slit as it could be.

“Aaah… it… mmm… there’s…”

“What is it?” asked Tom, breathing hotly over her clenching little hole. “What more do you need?”

His dark eyes trailed up to hers, and although her mouth was slack and her head hung dazedly to the side, he could read the desire in her eyes… His wet and plush lips, slightly bruised from how much he had worked on her, curled into a tilted smile.

“Oh I know what my good girl needs,” he chuckled.

His thumbs pressed softly into her folds, testing their plushness, making a bit more wetness seep out in a slick trickle down her slit.

“This little part wants some attention too, doesn’t it?” he asked as he let his breath fan over her nub. “I’m right. No? Aren’t I right? But… that wouldn’t do,” he teased. “I’m here to clean you up, my favourite, not to give pleasure to your naughtiest parts…”

She whined like a kitten denied of her treat, and Tom had to chuckle at it.

He brought his lips to the hard little point, closing them around the edges of its protective hood in a soft kiss, light and careful and affectionate. His hips ground against the sofa once again, easing the pain in his groin, and he groaned against her. Above, she gave a shivering moan at the sensation, and then he fixed his lips around her pearl more firmly.

He sucked it between his lips with almost punishing greed, causing her legs to shiver and wild little rasps to leave her throat as she thrashed helplessly. Without even thinking, Tom pressed his tongue forward and, as his suckles pulled the tip more firmly out of its hood, he rubbed the very tip of his tongue against it.

“Aaaaah— Professor! Too much, too much!”

Tom’s smirk tickled her right thigh, and he kept tending to her, nursing on her most delicate point. Her hips, in an effort to shake him off, moved up and down as much as he allowed her, but it was no use. He held her hip firmly with his left hand and with his right he held her thigh, letting his thumb rest against her hole. The canting of her hips made her rub the tight entrance on it, dripping against and around it, while Tom kept his lips stubbornly on her nub.

“Sir! Professor! Please!”

Her begging only made him more hungry. Tom heaved and frowned, his kiss getting messier, his mouth opening occasionally around as much of her as he could grasp between his lips, before closing on her nub again and pulling on it tightly. When he had it fixed and at his mercy, his tongue flicked it up and down, making it as erect as it could be…

Her pleas were a mess of sounds by now, and her hands gripped her throat and hair as she arched. The office became filled with her cries of pleasure and the damp sounds made by his mouth.

When he began to feel more loving, he relaxed his lips around her, cradling her sensitive flesh within him. He let his tongue drag slowly, slowly up from her flexing hole up the underside of her pearl, and ending the journey with a suckling kiss. He did it again, encouraged by her long and wailing moan, letting his tongue linger on the very underside of it this time, curling right beneath her tender tip, pressing against it for as long as he could while she thrashed and cried, and when he could no longer hold it, he closed in with another kiss.

Tom tilted his head to the left and he kissed her nub as gently as he’d kissed her hole before, just like he wanted to kiss her mouth. It was a slow and deep caress coloured by his own deep moans.

Slowly, and then all of a sudden, he felt her thighs begin to shake. Her whimpers were sounding stilted, muffled, and when he looked up Tom saw that she was covering her mouth with both hands. Her fingers were wet with tears and her eyes were tightly shut. Her whole body shivered, but especially her stomach and her legs. With a fresh rush of greed, he moved his hands around her waist in such a way that tilted her lightly upwards.

He held her like a chalice, and holding her so bowed his head to deliver a long, lingering, deep kiss. Her shivers slightly abated, as if her every muscle held its breath in sympathy with him.

His loins meanwhile were pressed against the sofa almost painfully and he held himself still while he swallowed everything she had to give — her wetness that wouldn’t stop gushing, her moans that escaped even the hard clutch of her hands, and the sweet, sweet, taste of her skin completely rid of the sharpness of the Ardour Fly — and then in a sharp throb that made Tom wail into her girlhood, he felt himself pulse once, twice, and release into his pants. It was a long and arduous spill that left him feeling muggy, his skin both hot and cold with the feel of his essence finally released from his long-suffering sac. Still, humiliating as it was for him to reach the peak of pleasure from just a loving kiss of her entrance, it was better this way — the aphrodisiac, as he lapped it off of her, had begun for several moments to affect him as well, but satisfying his desires sated it.

He breathed in and out slowly as he calmed himself, his eyes closed, and he kept his mouth on her. With his tongue, he lapped from her seeping hole, so ravenous and lonely, all the way to her hard little point that he’d tortured with too much attention. It made her jump again.

“Prof—!”

“That’s it, good girl,” he moaned, barely lifting his mouth from her.

“Aaah! Oh, that’s…!”

“Good girl, do it, do it for me…”

She could scarcely hear what he was saying beneath her frantic moans, but somehow, she felt it.

Tom switched from lapping at her to pulling her with harsh suckles into his mouth, then licking her again, and again, and on and on — until she gave one high scream and clenched.

“Aaaaahhh! Aaah… aaahh… P-profes— Sir—”

“There you go, my favourite,” he moaned, sighing against her painfully tight entrance. His mouth seemed constantly undecided between kissing it as it throbbed and kissing her swollen folds and her nub and every other little spot between them. He lavished all the love he had on her, scraping every corner of his withered heart for a sliver of something good and pure to offer her — and, for an instant, he felt worthy enough to do it.

“There’s my good girl… So nice,” he said before another kiss, “so sweet… Does that feel good?” he asked gently. “Hm? Did that make you feel good?”

Adara groaned and shivered as her body lost all tension and all strength, falling to rest in a puddle on the sofa. This last one took every last ounce of strength in her… But at least now, the Ardour Fly was sated. She could feel its effects draining from her with every lingering pulsation of her girlhood, and her every next breath was one of deep relief.

“Sir,” she whispered tremblingly, “that’s… yes, so… so good,” she moaned, her eyes looking hazily down at her professor.

Tom smiled a genuinely happy, proud smile. To ease her down, and soothe the discomfort from his own embarrassingly soaked loins, he indulged and nursed himself a moment longer on her pearl. He swallowed mouthfuls of her taste until she whined a bit louder, clearly too sensitive to take it anymore. He sighed, and let her go. His hands eased off her hips, grip loosening into a caress, a petting of her sides that trailed up and down from her thighs to her ribs.

“How do you feel?” he asked, gazing down at her with somewhat of a dazed look too. Raising his front off the sofa, he felt the sweat that had gathered on his chest begin to cool.

“Good,” she whispered, looking up at him sleepily.

“Good,” he said, smiling a little brighter.

He cupped her torso with his left palm and reached his right hand up to her face, wiping a few stray tears away with his thumb. Her legs were limp around him and her face was still blooming with a blush, but aside from that and the lethargy of after-pleasure, she seemed completely healthy… Back to normal.

And of course, with that came the inevitable humiliation. Adara looked down at herself and clumsily tried to cover her waist again with her skirt, slipping shy looks up at her professor. Tom chuckled and busied himself brushing a few stray hairs from her forehead.

“I, erm… T-thank you, s-sir, it’s…”

She felt so ashamed so could nearly cry. Professor Riddle didn’t seem to mind, but he sympathised with her anyway.

“I’ll… I’ll let you catch your breath,” he said quietly, easing himself off the sofa and wiping her wetness off his chin.

“T-thanks,” she said, both hands tucking the skirt between her thighs and staying there. With a groan, she curled her knees up and let her legs fall to the right, while her chest moved up and down with panting breaths that eased and eased the more her body cooled.

She looked up at the ceiling, then chanced a glance at her professor. He had picked up his shirt off the floor and drowsily threw it back on. She caught the barest hint of sweat pooled in the lower dip of his back before it was covered up, and her face burned again. As if feeling her gaze, Tom looked over his shoulder, catching her right before she turned her head away again.

“I have to go to my quarters and… wash up a bit,” he said. What he meant was that he intended to get a new change of clothes and maybe squeeze his manhood of whatever was left, because a quick rub against the cushions had been perfunctory at best. “But before that, I will get you a glass of water. You must be quite… dehydrated,” he smirked, his fixed on hers before he walked away to do just that.

With less of a steady hand than he wished, Tom poured her a tall glass of water and came back to kneel by the sofa and help her drink it. She grumbled, but he insisted on holding her head steady while he tipped the glass to her lips. Nobody had ever really done a thing like that for him, he realised now — perhaps only a nurse in the infirmary when he caught a cold in his second year. Maybe for that reason he especially liked doing it for her.

“Do you feel well now?” he asked with a concerned frown, all hints of teasing gone. He placed the back of his hand lightly to her forehead.

“Yes,” she said, looking up into her professor’s dark eyes. “T-thank you. That was… What you did w-was —”

“Not as great of a sacrifice as you’re trying to tell me it was,” he said with a cool smile. “Don’t concern yourself with it, Miss Gaunt. We won’t think of it again.” And he knew he didn’t have to tell her not to speak of it, especially. “In fact, if you want, I can… I could…”

“What?” she asked, curious to see her professor stutter for once.

Tom sighed and looked with quiet resolve into her eyes. “I could Obliviate you.”

“No!” she said, somewhat too quickly. “No… I don’t want you to.”

He seemed surprised, but happy with her answer. “Very well,” he smiled, her thumb caressing her cheek once more, just briefly, just for a moment — what a brave girl his favourite was, what a darling delicious girl — and then he caught himself and took his hand away as if he had no right to touch her, as if he hadn’t been touching her for more than an hour.

“When you’re feeling up to it, I suggest you get back to your dorm,” he said, getting briskly up again. “You’ve already missed dinner.”

Adara nodded and drank a bit more water, and waited for him to back to his quarters for that ‘washing up’ he mentioned before she gathered the courage to try to sit. It was a bit of a challenge. All her muscles ached, their energy burned away in so many shivers, but gradually she could stand up again.

With one last blush, she picked up her discarded panties from the floor, where they had become a bit entwined with her professor’s tie.

She put them on, revoltingly wet as they were, righted her hair and her clothes as much as she could, and walked to the desk to where Professor Riddle now stood, drinking a glass of firewhisky.

“I’ll leave now, Sir,” she said to his back. “T-thank you again, I—”

“Don’t mention it,” he said.

“I… I’d like to repay you one day, if I can,” she offered, looking at his ruffled dark hair with pleading eyes.

“Don’t,” he chuckled.

He put his glass down with a sigh and turned around. He looked at her… seeming not at all angry, and not remotely as cold as he usually was. In fact, the only thing he looked like was tired… and a little fond.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” he smiled. “I just hope… I just hope you’re alright now.”

She nodded.

Tom looked like he wanted to say something, something more, more than this tepid formality he forced himself to exchange with her. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, he wanted to tell her they shared the same blood, he wanted to tell her he would like nothing better than to be her escape from her horrible side of the family, to offer her comfort, to offer her care… But as much of a selfish, needy, villain that he was, he wasn’t that.

“I’ll see you in class next week.”

And that would be the end of it.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 2400+

Warnings: language, mentions of trauma

I noticed that most of you aren't Tamlin's fans, but give him a chance😉

Part I | Part III

One day you woke up into gloomy morning, heavy rain drumming on the leaves behind the windows. You couldn't go out, so you cuddled down with a blanket into your favourite armchair in front of the fireplace with cracking wood in it. Slowly sipping fragrant tea you dived into a book laid on your lap.

After the beast was gone your life returned to its normal. You spent your days taking walks in the forest, picking up herbs, fishing and collecting berries and mushrooms to eat. You still thought about the beast, of course you did, but after all it was his decision to leave. All you could do was hope that there's somebody who would check on his wound, making sure it healed properly.

Suddenly front door burst open harshly and the beast broke in. He was soaked, water dripping on the floor. But the sudden invasion wasn't what scared you the most. It was the beast's expression. He looked so wild, so dangerous, so angry, the rows of sharp fangs bared, his angry eyes sizing you. Huge body filled small space of cottage, sucking out all the air.

Your fingers clenching tighter around the mug, was the only sign of fear you allowed yourself. Maybe after all, they were right saying the High Lord went crazy. There's no other explanation to this. You looked straight into the green eyes with gold flecks waiting, leaving the first move to him.

He growled, the sound full of rage and pain shook the walls. He began to pad around, the dagger-like claws had left scratches on the wooden floor. You were watching him with bated breath.

After few minutes he came to you, sitting down he pressed his wolf's head to your knees and exhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't know where else to go."

"It's okay," you breathed out swallowing hard. You could still feel his rage seeping from his body.

"And I'm sorry for the door. I'll repair it." You looked to the remains of what used to be the front door. The spicy smell of magic filled the air and the debris disappeared immediately replaced by new door.

"Thank you," you whispered still clenching the mug. Even thought he seemed to be calmer now, you could sense bad mood hadn't left him yet. Your eyes fell to the side where he had been wounded. "I see you healed."

"Yes, all thanks to you and that tea you gave me." He didn't offer any explanation of why he disappeared without a word, so you wouldn't ask more about it. You sat silently in that strange position for a while, not sure which topic was safe to take out.

"Is.. everything alright?" you tried your luck, hoping he wouldn't bite your head off.

"No," he answered simply and you could sense new surge of anger building in him. "She looked so satisfied..so happy next to that bastard. As if she was laughing right in my face and saying: he fucks me better than you. He even made me his.." He abruptly halted, probably thinking he said too much.

But you already knew who he really was. You suspected it before and today his words just made you sure of it. You swallowed hard. There wasn't much you could say to that without revealing you knew his true identity. So you decided it's better to remain silent.

The beast exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. "Would you mind if we stay like this for a while?" he asked, voice full of pain and resignation.

"No, I don't mind it," you offered small smile. And so you sat there in silence with beast's head rested on your legs. The fire in the hearth crackled, raindrops drummed on windows and roof and the wind blew through the treetops.

Lost in your thoughts you watched beast's slowly drying fur while sipping your tea. Reaching out your fingers gently ran over the soft fur. The beast tensed under your touch and holding breathe cracked his eyes open. Only then you realized what you had done.

"I'm so sorry," you quickly untangled fingers from fur. "I didn't mean.."

"It's okay," he interrupted you. "I.. like..it.."

It's so surprising, you weren't sure what to do. Was it permission to continue? Hesitantly you touched him, gently scratching soft fur between the antlers. He purred lowly and shut eyes closed. Heat consumed your cheeks. Treating High Lord as some pet. How rude. You couldn't believe your own audacity. Thankfully nobody else saw that. Your fingers slid down behind his ear.

Shiver ran down his spine and startled he sat up, breaking off contact. His unusual green eyes locked with yours. Some strange energy surged between you and then he blinked and it was gone.

Turning his gaze to the fire, he cleared his throat. "Don't you...have more of the tea? It smells nice."

"Oh, sure," you babbled, accepting the way out he'd offered you so generously.

While you were pouring tea to the bowl, you could feel his intensive gaze. He didn't stop even when you returned back and offered him the tea.

"Thank you," he mumbled. Both of you sat and drank your teas, silence was stretching. When it was clear he didn't want to talk anymore, you picked up your book, found where you left off and started to read.

It was almost dinner time. The beast was lying in front of the fireplace fast asleep. His gentle snoring and unceasing rain were the only sounds in the darkening room. You put the book aside. Lighting candles along the way you stalked to the kitchen to prepare something to eat.

The beast didn't make even slightest move, but you knew he's awake. When food was on the table you hesitantly stepped to his side and touched his shoulder. He looked up at you.

"Come and eat something," you invited him. Obediently he followed you to table and sat down across from you. Sitting on the floor he was still taller than you. Looking down on you he watched as you took first bite. Only then he started to eat too. He finished in no time and liking his muzzle looked at plates on the table.

"Would you like some more?" you asked him.

He stiffened slowly looking up at you. "No, I'm fine." Lie. You could not only see, but also hear his hunger. You smirked, took his plate and put another portion of food on it.

"Don't be shy to tell you are hungry." He hesitantly nodded and started to eat.

When you finished, you began to clean table and dishes while he watched you with interest. "I wonder why you don't use your magic. It could be done in no time."

"I have no powers," you snorted amused.

"But you do have some," he insisted. "I can feel it. Especially when you make tea, medicines or cook."

"You must be wrong," you tried to laugh it off nervously. "I don't—can't.."

"Believe me. I can sense quite great power from you. Even now. It's suppressed, but it's there. You're on the same level as any High Fae."

"Can we just stop talking about it?" you asked him. You felt uneasy. Any mention of your magic made you feel so since you could remember. You didn't know why, anything that happened before you started to live in this cottage, was blurred. You didn't know where you came from, who you were or who your parents were. You only knew you didn't want to find out. All this magic talk made you feel nauseous. "I'm going to take some logs for fire," you announced, needing to get out of there. You didn't wait for his reaction. You needed fresh chilly air immediately.

His eyes narrowed as you rushed out into the dark. He noticed your pale face, but decided not to mention this topic anymore. Obviously there was something about it that bothered you. You didn't push him about his inner wounds, you didn't demand any explanations and he would do the same.

You didn't know how long you were sitting under the tree in the dark cold forest pressing your hands to ears, rocking back and forth. Screaming female's voice echoed in your mind. No doubt it was something you witnessed in the past, some lost memory, but you didn't want to know what it meant. You only wanted it to stop.

When you finally regained your usual composure, you took few logs and returned to cottage. The beast was again lying in front of the hearth. He looked up at you. "Everything okay?"

"Perfectly fine," you put logs away and sat down to your armchair. Suddenly realising how cold you were, you pulled up the blanket. The beast watched as you settled into the armchair and then put his head on the paws. The rest of the night you two spent in silence.

Three days passed since that day. You lived just as before. Only one thing changed - you weren't alone anymore.

The first day the beast stayed inside while you went on your regular walk, picking up herbs, mushrooms and berries, and fishing. He was probably bored all alone, because next day he joined you and went out with you. He was rather quiet companion, mostly just looking out for you while basking in the sun or helping you to carry the basket.

He was often lost in thoughts. Something bothered him, but he wouldn't say a single word. You didn't ask about it either. You just made sure he knew you were there if he needed.

Today wasn't different. You were sitting on the bank of small lake fishing while the beast was lying on large rock nearby, watching you out of habit.

"Don't you hunt?" he asked you suddenly.

You shook head. "I don't. I couldn't possibly kill an animal. I feel sick to even think about hurting small mouse."

He made a sound that remotely resembled the laughter. "You are really a vicious witch."

You frowned at him. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"No, it isn't," he agreed, his voice playful. It was the first time he had such good mood since you met him. For some reason it warmed your heart and you smiled too. "Have you ever eaten meat except of fish?"

"To be honest I don't know. I don't remember my life before I came to this forest," you admitted.

"Why?" he asked carefully.

"I don't know," you shrugged.

"Did you try to remember or search for someone to help you?"

You bit on your lower lip and shook your head. "I feel that it's better not to know."

"I see," he turned back to the lake, putting this conversation to the end. He wanted to know more, but it seemed to be dangerous topic. You were already pale enough.

For the rest of the day he stayed silent seemingly thinking about something. His good mood disappeared which was a pity. You quite liked that change and his teasing.

After the dinner he sat down in front of you, resolution in his green eyes.

"There's—there's something I should tell you.."

You patiently waited for his next words, giving him an encouraging smile.

"I..I'm not beast," he breathed out, watching you carefully, waiting for your reaction.

"I know. You have human eyes," you said calmly and took a sip of tea.

"You are really special," his mouth widened into something similar to the smile, but more wild, eyes shined brightly.

He looked at you, jaw tightening. "There is more.."

He inhaled deeply, those gleaming green eyes never leaving yours. His features started to change. You just sat there and watched. It took mere seconds, a flash of light and there was a young male kneeling in front of you only in ragged brown breeches. His golden hair were long, tangled and as dirty as the rest of his muscular body. Big silver scar on his ribs was the only proof he was the injured beast you saved.

On the first look he was High Fae, there's no doubt about it. His magic was so powerful your insides shivered. You couldn't take eyes off of him, lips slightly parted. Even under the layers of dirt he was still attractive. You'd already seen all kinds of fae males, but no one like him. Nobody was so handsome, so graceful. Nobody made your heart jump to your throat. You realized you were staring at him. Ashamed you looked down on your hands.

He nervously cleared his throat. "I'm.. Tamlin.." No titles. Okay, you could play along.

"Ehm, nice to meet you," you mumbled.

"I'm sorry for my messy appearance. It's quite some time since I.. you know.. I've spent several days in my animal form.."

"It's okay," you shyly took another sip of tea, so you didn't have to look at his broad chest.

He shakily inhaled. "Listen.. I know this is sudden, but.. the war is approaching. I had a peaceful time here to think things over, which I'm really grateful for.. but you have to go.. flee to another Court or maybe even to continent. This place won't be safe. If Prythian looses, this Court will be destroyed as first.."

Tamlin wanted to continue, but you stopped him. All feelings aside you found your balance once again and he could see why other Fae had avoided you. You were empty.

"I will not go anywhere," you stated coldly.

"It wasn't request," he matched your tone, anger building up in his voice, sharp claws slid out.

"You have no right to command me around. It's up to me if I want to leave or no." You spoke calmly, it wasn't in your nature to shout at others.

"Actually I.." Tamlin halted, biting down on his lower lip. "Do as you wish, you stubborn little thing. I warned you," he growled, stood up swiftly and without another word left.

You remained seated in your armchair grasping mug in your fingers. You understood his concern, but high lord or no he had no right to order you to leave your cottage, the only home you had ever known. This was your comfort zone and you couldn't even imagine life behind the borders of this forest.

You closed your eyes trying to calm down. You almost started to like him and his silent company. You didn't want to be angry at him. You didn't want to feel anything at all. Feelings were just troubles and troubles hadn't place in your life. And so you pushed and pushed until all of the feelings disappeared and you again felt yourself.

[day-drawn-blog]

Part IV: There is more to do and I still want to live

Pairing: Astarion x Reader -- This is set in Act I

Part IV - LOTS of angst and sadness and jealousy and fluff.

Tags: angst, fluff, sadness, angst, fluff, then maybe eventually smut because I do love that

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace

Part V: our futures bound, our bodies known

Part VI : these ain't my sins, I' broke my chains

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours?

Part VIII: your blood like wine, invites me in

Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

----------

The next morning you woke up. It took you a while to remember last night. You gasped and turned around. Your bed was empty. You were the only one. Your nocturnal visitor had vanished into the night air. Was he even there last night, or did you dream it all? Somewhere in the corner of your turbulent heart, you knew, he had gone back to his paramour. Which was not you. Before the pain of that thought drove you mad, you decided to distract yourself. After all, he never made any promises to you.

Time to get on with it.

The day was weary. You were finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the air between Shadowheart and Astarion. Every glance they shared, every smile was laced with poison for you. You prayed and hoped this would pass. You were the hero. You were the one who would lead them to safety, to the end of this perilous journey. It was a quest for salvation for all of you. And then you were all ambushed.

Time to focus on violence.

That should get your mind off of them. Except, Shadowheart was cornered, and while Astarion was supposed to target another, he defied the plan - to shoot at her attacker leaving himself open to a powerful spell that inflicted several wounds on him. He fell from his station. Drops of his blood splattered on Shadowheart's pale pretty face, down from where he stood.

Your heart had stopped.

Shadowheart shrieked, naturally to see him in pain so. Instantly she cast Santuary on him and incinerated the enemy with her radiance spell. You could feel her vengeance in the intensity with which she cast her spell. They then proceeded to embrace each other, her trying to heal him, and him finding solace in her arms.

You felt your world go blank.

Was there really a point to any of this? What was it, again. Your vision blurry, everything seemed to have slowed down. Or maybe just you. Karlach and Wyll were nearby. Flashes of spells and clash of swords. That's all you heard. Reckless abandon. That is what you wanted to feel. To make it worth something. To be seen, maybe. To be valued, to be needed. Or not be needed at all.

You cared not for your spell magic. It was time to feel the rage delivered through your own hands. Slashing, kicking, swinging your pact weapon. The feel of hitting a mortal enemy, splattering of blood around you. you could hear Karlach yell. Why? Oh, is that blood? Is that yours? Somebody bludgeoned you. Because being able to hit, meant being able to take a hit. Another punch to your face. This one you felt. You lost your footing.

This was fun.

Bring it on. See what I got. I will give it back to you. I have seen worse. I have felt worse. I have nothing more to lose. I will take you down with me. That's what raced through your mind. You hit harder, faster and with more venom than before. Killing with your own hands. You never enjoyed it before. Where is this rage coming from. You were no barbarian. You could feel the Hellish Rebuke coursing through your own body. you hit. And was hit back. Thrown back. Several times you landed on the floor. And got back up.

And then you felt hot. Warm. You had been hit with a fire spell.

You heard Wyll yell out. You could feel Karlach going into Rage. You knew the battle was won. You smiled, and you fell. For the last time that day. The last thing you remember seeing was Karlach cradling you, and Astarion running towards you from the distance. You couldn't make out what his face looked like. "Serves you right. Watch your only source of food disappear." you thought. You smiled, even if you were in pain.

The next thing you remember is Karlach nursing you in your tent.

Everything hurt. Pain all over. Wrapped in badages all over. You wondered what went down after your...recklessness. Karlach seemed really sad. Worried. "Thank the gods you are awake! What were you thinking?!" You smiled weakly. "Laezel has been going on and on about how impressed she was with your battle field prowess. "Ah.. Laezel, she would be...I'm glad".

After much fussing by Karlach, and Gale, and Shadowheart and basically everyone, who came to express their concern and relief or awe in your battle prowess or chastise you for your recklessness, you were relieved to get some quiet time. In which you wondered, where was the man, who mattered the most.

Typical. A vampire, only thinks of himself. and then suddenly, you remembered the look of pure horror on his face as you blacked out. But was he impressed? Was he worried? Did you get, ....his attention at last? You needed to know, if you were seen, at last.

If you mattered. To him. At all.

You decided to trudge outside in the cool night air. Everyone was finally asleep from all the exhaustion. It was a clear sky. Perhaps it is a great time to find a nice little piece of nature all to yourself. To take in the solitude.

You walked, slowly in the quiet night.

A little away from camp, you saw a shadowy figure. Almost predatory, walking towards you. Unmistakable.

So there he was.

He wasn't with shadowheart tonight? Maybe he had gone to hunt since, you weren't available. Your heart skipped a beat. There he was, out hunting. Was he scared he almost lost you? Was he finally worried about you? You wondered how the conversation would go. You had no idea why you did what you did, nor how he would react. You braced yourself.

But he said nothing at all.

He approached you. His face shone briefly in the moonlight. His eyes were cold. His shoulders brushed yours but he didn't stop. His glance was smouldering. Steely. But he said not a word and walked straight past.

You watched his back, through the light and darkness. Wait. You wanted to know, what he felt... "Are, you ... okay, Astarion? I saw you getting hurt earlier." Silence. Then he stopped and turned. You could hear your heart beat.

"Me? I am very glad to be alive you see. I do not want to just, end it all. Despite what my life has been so far, I still want to live." he looked at you with disdain.

You were taken aback.

You had been chastised by Wyll and to some extend Shadowheart, for your recklessness. But why did this one, cut through your heart?

"That's not... what I was ... "

But, is that what you were doing? Or is that what he thinks you were doing. Either way, you felt, ashamed. You would surely never. You had promised to be the Hero and Savior to others who needed saving. You wanted to love those that needed it. No. He was not right. It was not true. You won't let it be true.

You found your voice.

"Is that what you think I was doing? ha. I bet you got all worried, thinking your only source of higher blood would disappear. isn't it?" Your voice was laced with bitterness.

"And is that what you think of me?" His face was in the shadows. You could not see the glare in his eyes, but you could feel the disdain in his voice. "Well, in that case, maybe it is time for our nightly trysts to come to an end".

No. I didn't mean that.

You felt gripped by a sudden fear. No. Do not cast me aside. That is my only use to you. Do not take that away from me too. Please. That is not what I meant or wanted. That is the only time you look at me. You know of my existence. Only way I am needed by you. Only time I am wanted by you. No. You could feel tears choking you.

You couldn't speak. So he turned and resumed walking back to camp.

You turned too and then you broke down. You could not stop your tears. You felt so sorry. So very sorry for yourself. You almost lost yourself today, for this man. Why? Did you just want to be seen that badly. Only to be thrown away entirely. You watched the tears drop on your hands, and you knelt on the ground with your hands propping you up. Nothing you did would ever matter.

This was the bitter truth you so desperately wanted to deny. You never mattered to begin with. You were nobody to him. And you almost died for him. How could you hate yourself so much? Why would you not value yourself. Was he worth all that? You will never be Shadowheart. For it is she, who was in his heart and mind. You were just a convenient transaction.

You felt warm hands, from behind.

Hands that held you up. As you cried your eyes out. You were held in an tight embrace. As if the person wanted to take all your pain away. The harder your cried, the tighter you were embraced. You were found, by someone. Someone was there. Someone cared. That's all that mattered to you at that instant. You didn't care who it was. You were grateful it was...someone. You absorbed all the warmth in their body, and you felt the support of their broad chest against your back, as they buried their face in your neck from behind.

You felt his soft caress on your neck.

You felt so happy, that you started crying even more. You felt eternal bliss, you felt cared for, seen and you felt loved. You felt wanted. Your yearnings, came rushing out in salted tears. You wanted to laugh and smile, but you cried instead. Tears of joy, if only you could tell him that.

"I am sorry. I did not know. I am sorry. What can I do. How can I help you, please tell me a way." he whispered. "I cannot see you like this. I need you. Yes I need you. But not for your blood. You are our salvation. You protect us. From our personal demons. And in Wyll's case, quite literally".

You finally laughed a little.

He loosened his grasp a bit at that. Realizing, that the worst may have passed. but he did not let go entirely. Still resting his head next to you, kneeling on the ground with you, he held on. "I will one day, somehow, give you a reason to live on. Something you will want to hold on to. I promise you. Can't you wait a little bit. I don't know what that is yet. But you have my word".

Those were the last words you heard that night.

Because your pain and exhaustion and happiness came crashing on you at once. You felt your consciousness slip away. You felt swpt up, carried. You heard Karlach on the way. "What did you do to her Astarion! You better not have hurt her! she was already in bad shape. Did you make her cry?! Why are her eyes so swollen?" You drifted to a very sweet dream that night. Content somehow.

Part V: our futures bound, our bodies known

[dottoresdiscordkitten69]

WARNINGS: power dynamic, gn!reader, reader is sick but never really exudes illness, dottore dgaf, unprotected sex, bondage

WC: 517

He prefers tying you up more than anything. Even it's just your hands or wrists he gets off on the amount if power he has over you, then shoving his gloves in your mouth while you protest about how unfair he is. Though that's the whole point of this.

You're letting his do you like this just to get your labs back quickly, you're sick, there's so little time to solve your problem you said you'll do anything it takes. Now here you are, doing anything. It's been going on for weeks, said he lost the sample and now he has to get you through the list again, you know he's full of shit.

Not worth arguing though, not when he's stuffing you full if his shit. His long, veiny shaft filling you til your squirming just to be able to yell his name. It's a pain you didn't mind taking, forcing yourself to take down your throat, but not it's something you can take with (relative) ease.

He's got you wrapped around his finger, always "loosing your labs during a clean up," or "loosing them in the chaos" He'll say with that voice of his, feeling it rumble and tear it's way through your body as he digs his fingers into your thighs, parting them while his tongue works it's magic.

You wanted to dig into his hair, slap his face, but you're restrained. He sees your want, your need to give him something that's coming for him, that's when he pops his mouth off of you and stands are his full height. Eyes peering down at you as you kick your legs at him, eventually you got daring and even started hitting his chest gently with the sole of your feet.

Dottore just rolled his eyes, sighing and bringing your hips to his. Undoing his belt and throwing it to the ground, you noticed the way he gripped it was a little stronger than most days, maybe he was actually pissed. He yanked the saliva soaked glove from your mouth to cast it aside with his belt, a wet slap heard on the cold marble ground.

The harbinger uses one hands to part your thighs again, (seeing as you pressed them together as hard as you could,) and the other to land a harsh slap to your ass. "Flip" He commanded, you gave him a look, glading a bit. "Where's my labs."

His long pale fingers caressed his nose, pinching it as they dragged to the tip, seeking like he wanted to peel his own skin off. "I don't give brats their results" Dottore hurriedly shoved down his pants, stroking himself while keeping harsh eye contact with you.

You merely let your body go slack, keeping your eyes on him. "Yea, but I'm your brat at this point, that's gotta count for something."

His eyes squinted at your quip. He then lowered his head a bit as he let his hips meet yours, raising them a bit and letting your ankles dangle overbhis shoulders. Letting out an exhausted breath, he looked at you. "You'll live."

[dracobrooklyn]

Durge x Reader Part 1

When you really like the design of the Cannon DragonBorn and his voice is like butter making you melt. I was sad you can't romance him and your the playable character instead. So Here I am going to write Headcannons of what if he was a romanceable NPC that was in your party. These are my thoughts taking bits and pieces from the Cannon and putting my thoughts and ideas into Durge.

|| MDNI || 18+ this will contain Themes of Language, Violence, and of course Sexual Content. DO NOT READ!!

Cannon!Durge x Tav!Fem!Reader

This will be in a Fem!Reader POV!!

Word count: 1.44K

Part 1: Meeting Durge

Durge is a White Dragonborn that is a Storm Sorcerer. Literally born from the blood of Bhaal to be the perfect monster for his destruction on the world. Though... he does not remember. After being taken by the Mindflayers. He does not remember anything before he was a prisoner. The Ship Crashing, his head spinning with so many thoughts. He only remembers his name and that he can cast magic thankfully. But everything else? He's lost. Of course You Find him being attacked by a group of Goblins, coming to his aid, to make sure he is okay. Of course he's hesitant, but he thanks you for your help. You of course ask him his name, Durge. A Strange name but it's his, nothing with it. He would ask if you know where they are, and of course replying that you weren't sure yourself, being in the ship and all, you were snatched away by the mindflayers as well. A little frustrated not sure what to do, he gives you his thanks and about to leave. Is that such a good idea? To go out alone especially that you saw him get attacked by Goblins? No. You ask him if he wish's to tag along with you and your other party members. Strange bunch... why not? He accepts. After all where was he to go? He has no memories. Everything is dark. And you were all trying to find a way to get this cursed parasite out of your brain... before you did turn into a Mindflayer. Maybe you will be able to help him remember. Durge is a little distant towards your other party members. Wasn't a fan of Astarion, not one bit. The way he acted, the way he talked to you as if you were insignificant. You were very much capable of defending yourself, you saved Durge's life. So he always gives the pale elf a glare. Shadowheart he does not mind but her pride and stubbornness can be a little annoying. She at least gives you a little respect when she talks to you.

As your party grow, you get to try to help Durge try to get some sort of sense with his memories. But nothing seems to happen. He can only think about maybe... maybe he had a family or friends waiting for him to come home, or perhaps he has a lover, or maybe something else. You definitely joked to him he could be a prince that was out hunting, he did find the joke amusing though. It was good to have some sort of conversation and company. Being alone with no memories was a little sad and lonely at times.

You were having a hard time sleeping. Specifically with the damn worm wiggling into your brain. So you noticed Durge was having a hard time sleeping as well, tossing and turning into his tent, into his sleeping area. You see how his lips curl back almost in a growl showing his teeth, his eye crest furrowing either in pain or anger as his claws gripped onto the blankets, how he curls up in a fetal position. Is he okay? You quickly went to him to wake him up, and you do. He grabs your arm and pins you down onto the ground his clawed hand wrapped around your neck growling, glaring his red blood eyes into your eyes. He pauses and noticed it's you. He get's off you quickly, not wearing a shirt and only trousers in his sleep wear as Durge feels so awful. He almost hurt you. He apologizes and ask's if you were alright, of course you were shaken but told him you were okay. Everything was alright.

Those dreams... nothing but blood... screaming... yells of anguish. Remembering his dream too well, just looking down at his hands, remembering in his dream he had blood on them. Once you did go back to sleep at your bed roll and he looked at you... what if your blood was on his hands... they started to shake. Fear escaped him, he didn't go back to sleep that night. He just laid in his bed roll in his tent frightened he could have killed you.

He felt awful the next day and wanted to apologize. Durge said if there was anything to he could do for your forgiveness. Of course, you were kind to him. "You had a nightmare Durge, perhaps they were memories, not good memories but maybe your memories are trying to come back to you, and it was too much." You could see the look on his face, he looked a little... worried. You asked if Durge wanted to talk about it. He only shook his head and said "No I... I like to hope they are nightmares, and not memories."

He very much appreciated your kindness, he really was happy that you didn't treat him any different from your party members. When he was distant, it was him just thinking, trying to piece together his "Dream" he had last night. You gave him a journal that you bought from the Druids grove, for Durge to write his dreams so maybe he can go back to the, as you smile at him and say "If you need company tonight... if you have a nightmare, don't hesitate to wake me okay?" And Right there... that's when the feelings start to blossom. The gift of the Journal. The Way how you were comforting on his darkest moments, trying to remember his past. The Way you treated him normally. You invited Durge to the fire to talk with the others, bring him into the conversation, telling you about your past. Where you lived growing up. Durge is very envious of your memories. That you have them, though he out right does not tell you. He wants to know his past so much, who the fuck he is!? It leaves him in a bad mood leaving you with the others at the campfire and heading into his tent for the night. Going to sleep a little mad... but also sad at the same time. Maybe he had a group of friends that miss him dearly. That laughed with him like a bunch of chumps. He wasn't sure.

[jhuzen]

Hey hey heyyy! new fave author that's you! i'm not really sure if you're taking requests but the ask box is open but you can just delete this if you arent :")

sooooooo bear with me but i need to heal with your angst fic. you write so well and i think you can pull this off because idk if its just me but sometimes the reader is giving off dom vibes. so again if you're comfortable may i pls request for a reader that just makes our tall genshin men feel smol? that's all pls and thank you <3

the shivers [gn/m.reader]

big-brained anon. i will call you primordial anon for being the first one! i was just about to finish the inazuma ver. of workload and i’m vvvv happy that i got this! yes, i will take requests, but i have yet to make some rules, but trust me this one, i can definitely do and hopefully do some justice. i’m not sure which tall genshin men you wanted, so i played it safe and called upon all of the playable tall men ;-; i hope whoever you’re looking for is in here. gn/m reader as always (also it’s cute that you think the reader radiates dom energy wwwww)

dark and suggestive content so please be warned ehe. dom reader with tall playable men ft. diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli, ayato, thoma, itto, and alhaitham. also pls excuse my manners on alhaitham’s, yours truly lost the 50/50 and i am taking it out on him 😔

Alhaitham

Agony. Pure agony gnawed somewhere within Alhaitham’s unbelievably still human heart. It throbbed with want and ached for your attention, but you simply weren’t a mind reader (or maybe you were, but somehow magically, you suddenly couldn’t read his pain at the moment). His eyes narrowed as you conversed with the juniors that sought you out from left to right — you were an alumni in Akademiya of course, a popular one at that and as the professors sang your praises, the scholars couldn’t help but take chance.

You were far more approachable than the current scribe after all. It’s only logical that the students would flock you and that alone could barely get a rise out of him. However, this one calls for a special circumstance — an outlier, if you will.

And as his gaze burned at the sight, he still couldn’t fathom how you couldn’t feel his silent wanting, he’d even dare as to say he was brooding at this point, deprived of your attention that you often promised he has.

All because of a previous classmate of yours.

You felt it alright, the uncomfortable heavy feeling at the back of your head. And you’re wont to the realization that it may have been your dearly beloved Alhaitham, him and his impatience growing by the second. And you could feel the exasperation that brewed inside him, boiling like a dormant magma suddenly growing active, but there was a little devil on your shoulder, urging you to be a little bit more mean to him, and continued to talk to Tighnari.

Your companion wasn’t any dumber, in fact, he was the first one to feel the heated stare directed in your direction. And while he expressed his adamance in leaving to cease the Akademiya lunatic’s jealousy, the knowing mirth in your eyes asked him to stay a little longer. To aid you in your little game.

“You ought to pay attention to him,” the forest ranger laughed a little, feeling the tiniest bit of pity towards the infamous coolheaded scribe, now left at your mercy. Tighnari, being one of your best mates in your years in Akademiya also had to succumb into your ruthlessness. Truly, you and Alhaitham were a match made in abyss for putting up with each other’s antics. “I could already feel my spine crawling with dread.”

“Indulge me with just a few more minutes, my good friend. I did truly miss you after all — what with my work often moving and you barely coming in the city when I am home,” you laughed a little and Tighnari only shot you a disapproving look at your stalling.

“Come and visit then. If I remember right, you promised Collei some trinkets from your trip in Mondstadt.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved at Tighnari as the hybrid finally left your clutches with an equally mediocre enthusiasm. And finally, you spun on your heel, excusing yourself for awhile from the scholars who were most likely hoping to hold an audience with you.

You walked back to the secluded area, far from the prying eyes (though you didn’t mind if there were onlookers, a little humiliation is always fun). Alhaitham’s eyes were trained back on the book, though you figured his attention was miles away from the texts and still is fixated on your presence.

Sliding the books out of Alhaitham’s way, you finally sat on the table and gently grabbed his chin, a soft gaze from you was all it took for the man to melt. He subtly leaned into your touch and you relished in the fact as he breathed in the scent of cologne that you would always dab on your wrist, inhaling your scent like a drug, “You needn’t be so jealous, love. I’m always here and I could never betray your trust. To simply do so would be the death of me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh? Is that so? I must be projecting then. Perhaps because of that one little girl that thought you were up for grabs.” Your words had Alhaitham immediately stiffening under your touch as he finally abandoned the book, hands grabbing onto your thighs so tightly — a silent apology that he somehow forgot.

But you yearned for a verbal apology, you wanted to hear the remorse in his voice even if you had to pull it out of him in sobs and soft moans. Alas, you were much too impatient as your hand on his chin shifted, now grasping his cheeks and squishing them together.

Through his forced puckered lips, he mumbled out a muffled apology, “M’s’rry…”

A laugh tore away from your throat, “I know you are.” You leaned down, pressing a kiss to those soft lips of his before dauntingly sticking out your tongue and giving a rather carnal lick afterwards, effectively wetting his lips.

Your vice grip in his cheeks was nothing against his quiet whimper of plea as you devoured his still puckered lips with your fervent licks and mildly aggressive nips, uncaring whether or not the skin of his lips broke and bled. And even then, Alhaitham was sure you absolutely enjoyed the taste of the metallic iron as long as it was his. And nothing could get him going more knowing that despite the toying you did with him, the way you seemed mean at times and absolutely refused to acknowledge him, you were wrapped around his finger.

A soft groan left your lips when he squeezed your thighs with much force — and while that could have been a cue for something else entirely, you had enough awareness not to take him there and then and opted to pull away with a conniving grin.

Quiet pants left Alhaitham’s lightly swollen lips, completely red and absolutely drenched in your saliva. You only gave him one more smile before reaching out to wipe away the drooling mess you’ve made on your beloved scribe.

“Thank you for that quick snack break. I ought to entertain more research questions. The Amurta scholars these days are so jovial! It gets my heart pumping to see their cute eager faces. I’ll see you later, love.”

And this time, Alhaitham let you go with little to no protest, feeling that he himself was also fulfilled for the moment.

𐂂

Ayato

Impatience flooded through Ayato’s system as he continued to keep up the facade in front of the other commissioners. He was far from an exquisite mood as he continued to listen to the ludicrous suggestions of his fellow politicians. He has seen children pitch better ideas on how to catch a tanuki when he walked the streets of Inazuma City with you a couple of days before.

And speaking of which, you were the love hidden behind closed doors. The darling jewel of the Kamisato clan — a nobleman from the faraway lands of your proud nation. Only Celestia knows how such an important figure such as yourself ended up in the doorstep of the Kamisato household. But only his sister and trusted keeper would know how a prolific man such as Ayato end up in your strong and caring arms.

The thought of you suddenly had Ayato feeling weak in the knees, doing who knows what — and he dreaded to see you lonely, and in desperate need of company. Ayaka was often out and about, handling the surface affairs, and Thoma was much too busy with the upkeep of the teashop when he’s not in duty as a housekeeper and your companion. He dreaded the thought of you emerging from the household and suddenly being seen by the rest without his approval — his secret love.

He bore through the absolutely god-awful meeting with the mere thought of you keeping him sane through this absolutely maddening (important) boredom.

While Ayato was preoccupied with unrestrained concern for your wellbeing, you weren’t all too bothered with being left in the deafening silence of the Kamisato household; as a matter of fact, you reveled in the tranquility your beloved’s home have offered you. You took care of everything like a good spouse, taking off some labor from Thoma and even learned a few hobbies you can teach Ayaka.

You were much too independent to be helpless. You liked to move and surprise people with the extent of your prowess. It was enticing to see their surprised reactions, throwing people off guard was a pastime you could never hope to give up.

Perhaps it was why you loved Ayato all the more. His reaction could never be beaten by any other person. Especially when it dawned on him that he too can be outsmarted and overpowered, to be underneath someone and to feel what it’s like to relinquish control. Not politically though, you could never take that from him. Otherwise, he’s all in your hands.

And none was all different when Ayato finally arrived home, a breathtaking yet cheeky smile plastered on his flawless face. His voice reverberated through the house as he entered, laced with eagerness as he stepped on the tatami floors as he made his way to where you are. And unsurprisingly, you were by the engawa, indulging the serenity of the place.

“Welcome home, lovely,” your voice already had him growing weak, almost missing a step as he sat behind you, arms already lacing around your sturdy shoulders. He inhaled your scent fresh and sweet, only fueling his intoxication. “How was work?”

“Long and tiring. I abhorred the time wasted not being with you,” you could feel Ayato‘s pout against the nape of your neck and laughed. You indulged him and his nuzzling against your skin, letting him go through all kinds of euphoria. You licked up every single attention he gave you and Ayato was no different as he continued to take advantage of what little control he has in this moment.

“It’s not all so bad. It‘s not like I’m going anywhere.” Your words quickly reeled Ayato in as desperation seeped through his veins — a desperation for you to make good on your promise and to never, ever break it. Hah. Like you were even foolish enough to do so. “I should hope that I can hold you on the same promise?”

Your tone made it out a suggestion but Ayato shivered at the thinly veiled threat — knowing that he can’t escape your grasp ever. That he’s shackled so lovingly within you; a promise of raw love that only you and him can enjoy and no one else. Of course, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He submitted into your touch as you turned around and swiftly pulled him into your lap.

“Absolutely ravishing,” Ayato’s breath hitched at your compliment. He’s heard people sing their praise to him in a hundred words, but all you had to do was speak and he’s already so, so weak, completely under your mercy. His hands made its way to your shoulders to gain some grounding, a footing in this world with all the haze your words injected into his mind.

Ayato’s smile was lazy, eyes half-lidded as he leaned in to steal a kiss you’ve been cruelly depriving him of since his arrival, and you were quick to reciprocate. He almost fell out of your lap when your hands gripped his hips tightly, oh so possessively, and he could only imagine the marks you’d leave if he wasn’t wearing his layered uniform at work.

Pulling away from the kiss, he left one more peck, “You’re doing my head in, y’know? Take some responsibility.”

You wouldn’t have been Ayato’s beloved if you did otherwise.

The wooden floorboards creaked as you shifted, rocking forward further with a hand on the back of Ayato’s head as you laid him down. Ayato had to stifle a quiet whine as your lips found themselves attached on his chin, considering that his clothes left so little room for an opening in his neck. He quivered as your lips moved further up, just on the side of his bottom lip where his beauty mark was. Archons, he’s never felt so defenseless as he did with you.

Alas, you were a tease and soon left him alone as you sat up, his legs immediately wrapping around your waist to pull you back in as he flashed you a sly grin, “What say we bless the stars tonight with a show?”

You scoffed with a smile, “No, thank you. I’d get jealous.”

The Yashiro commissioner was purring in delight.

𐂂

Diluc

Reluctance was a feeling that Diluc should have expected and prepared for, only for him to do the exact opposite of it. Instead, he was blindsided and only has himself to blame. Though, quite frankly, he’d rather have you take responsibility instead.

He was never one for conversations and actively avoided them as much as possible unless it was a talk about business. Diluc could never find himself engage into a mindless chatter, and often kept to himself. Though, granted he has the traveler to thank for keeping him company and prying him open at times, but other than that, his interactions with people are limited to the staff of his winery and the tavern, sometimes with Kaeya, and on certain nights when he’s bartending, he’d make the effort to speak to kick out a drunkard bard out of the tavern.

All of that however boiled down into nothing in comparison to the hurricane that was you. None of his experiences (if one could even call it that) could have prepared him for the situations that you would put him in. They were so unbearable, and often times it leaves him completely exasperated at your antics.

But even so, he’s willing to bear it all if it meant he could be with you. Diluc would go through the most compromising positions you would put him in if it meant he could gain even an inkling of approval from you. And it may just be his brain trying to comfort him, but he does feel significantly more lax in the company of others ever since you became a part of his peaceful life.

All of a sudden, he’s holding up better in mundane talks and people noticed. The patrons of his tavern were all flabbergasted to see that the air around Diluc has cleared and that it doesn’t feel like a chore to him to even talk to them. Even the traveler and their emergency food noticed that there was a different feel to Diluc upon their return to Mondstadt to fulfill some commissions. Adelinde could not be any prouder for her master as he indulged those small talks.

If only she knew why.

Case in point — Diluc has gotten better in socializing because of you. Only because anything seems far easier than being subjected into your shameless cruelty.

A quiet wail left the Darknight hero’s quivering lips as his back collided against the walls of your shared bedroom. The hurricane that ruthlessly terrorized his otherwise peaceful and dull life was you — relentless and absolutely merciless. All logic from his mind slowly went down the drain as you ruthlessly devoured him, like a lion forced into fasting feeding on a gazelle; you went in for the kill.

Your lips left no room in his neck as you enjoyed your feast. Much like that ridiculously gruesome analogy, you were just as deprived, forced into being a good partner for your beloved Diluc as he went on with a week filled with nothing but conducting business for the winery as well as doing his duties as the protector of Mondstadt while its occupants fall into a collective slumber.

Not like you were any better though — you were also just as busy, collecting research samples for your investigative partner, Albedo. And all of that resulted into missed quality times, as you were often away before Diluc could wake up and you were already asleep before he could come home. It was ridiculous.

But freedom was a theme that Mondstadt upheld and suddenly, there was free time. A sliver of chance where Diluc came home earlier and you went home a little later, only crossing paths on the way to the winery. And all that eventually led to your ferocious and undeterred expression of love.

Diluc could already see the glimmering stars as he tilted his head up to leave more room in his neck, eyes screwed shut to keep his mind off of the embarrassing position he’s in — held up against the wall by you, barely supported by anything but the wall behind him and your hands that gripped on his thighs when you lifted his legs up.

“Have you any idea how much I’ve longed for a chance to even breathe you in?” Your harmless growl against the skin of his neck was enough to send him into a spiral of embarrassment and pride. He never had much chance to feel someone’s incredible want for him until the day you came along and Diluc soon found that this was a feeling he could never let go of.

Alas, your question, rhetoric or not, was left unanswered when all of the experience he’s had in conversing with others left his pretty little mind. Just the feeling of your possessive hands grip onto his skin so tightly had him forgetting the every alphabet in Teyvat’s language. Short ragged breathing left Diluc’s lips and he finally opened his eyes when he felt you pull away, granting his neck to see the light.

Vicious and angry marks are bound to decorate his skin by the looks of it and he was no better than you — completely drowned in excitement and thrill.

You could see the wanton need in his eyes, now completely glossed over with a haze that looks all too familiar, you could even say that the feeling’s an old friend of yours — what with you being completely insatiable. That is until Diluc came into your peripherals and suddenly you had the urge to drag him where you are; and ever the pliant gentleman this man is, he quickly caved, only to realize just how ruthless you are.

Even so, it’s not completely unwelcome. Diluc’s mind muses as you dove back in, this time with an urge to leave him breathless for a much different reason.

𐂂

Itto

Excitement was not so much of a stranger in the company of Itto. He was always so exuberant, even to the point of it placing him in trouble under the Tenryou commission. And while the gang cheered him on (other than the reliable and trustworthy Shinobu), it still is, at the end of the day, nothing but trouble.

However, beyond that, the only thing that Itto could get consumed in excitement without getting in trouble are his ramblings about you. To say that he was your biggest fan would be an understatement, and just when people have started to think that no one could be prouder of Arataki Itto than himself, the moment your name leaves his mouth, no one else is escaping the plethora of praises he has for you.

You were his pride and joy and to be able to have you as his was nothing short of a miracle — well, not so much, considering that surely no one can resist Itto’s irresistible charms. And as he boasted about you and how you were all over him, people can only accept the fate they subjected themselves into. The usual victims of his rambling could just as easily ace a test that was all about you. People knew of the things you favored and the ones that didn’t, the things that can get you to stop doing what you are doing just to indulge yourself.

And you let them. You figured there was no harm done in Itto blabbing away who you are. Really, people knew you but you rarely ever showed yourself around them, being one of the work types in contrast to your partner’s easy going life. And besides, it was nothing short of amusing to see people’s faces when they finally catch a glimpse of the Itto’s priceless jewel that is you and you’d often hear people comment offhandedly about Itto’s words not even doing you justice.

You enjoyed those moments — the praises that you hear from left to right were welcomed with a captivating and grateful smile from yours.

But all that pales in comparison to the feeling you get when you praise your beloved, watching him completely fall apart in your arms as your honeyed whispers filled with promises of love and sin get him going.

“And then I managed to pick the biggest onikabuto! And when I got to duel I almost won!” Itto faltered a little as the realization dawned on him that it was yet another loss in his books. Fortunately, he quickly recovered, “N-Not that I didn’t lose because I suck! I let those kids have a taste of victory!”

“Hoh? Like before?” You entertained Itto’s whims as you continued to cut slices into the apples that his gang had managed to procure on their adventuring in the outskirts of Inazuma. “How generous. I could only hope to see the glee in those children’s eyes.”

Itto jumped up from his seat and headed over to you, arms snaking around your hips with his chin resting on your shoulder. You picked up a slice and fed it to the oni, who so gladly obliged your little act of service. In any case, someone could mistake the dynamics of your relationship with someone if they were to see just how docile you are and how well-behaved Itto seems to be.

But much like your job, you liked to work behind closed doors and you were far more appreciative with your own work when it’s only seen by your own eyes.

You swiftly turned around, still encased with Itto’s strong arms with an apple in hand. But such an innocent gesture can only be deciphered as deceiving, especially with the way your eyes glinted. It was dangerous and sharp, on the prowl like a hungry predator, and in this case, Itto was always subjected into the role of a prey. Still, with Itto’s lack of awareness, he can only give you a beaming smile, so filled with sweet innocence and… stupidity. Something you can appreciate more as this man’s sole corruptor.

“Just hearing you being such a nice oni to those children…” your voice shifted and even with Itto’s constant naïveté, he can hear the seductive danger behind your words. “You must’ve been a very good boy, huh?”

He quickly perked up, unable to resist your words. He almost felt his knees buckle — and he would’ve given out had you not been holding him up well. Wait, since when were you the one in charge? He was the one who had a grip on you earlier.

Without even so much of an effort, you spun him around, now the one trapped between the kitchen counter and your body. It must’ve been the Inazuman summer heat that suddenly set him ablaze — you flashed him a small smile that he could never recover from, so approving yet so domineering; all Itto could think about now is how he can draw out more praises from your sweet lips.

Lucky for him, you feeling relatively charitable that day. You brought up the apple slice against his lips, prying them open and watched with amusement as he opened his mouth willingly, obedient and pliant, like a dog. You leaned in, attaching your lips to the apple halfway through his bite and gazed at him, sultry and still so collected. Itto could only swallow dryly at the proximity and— oh, since when did you have such a vice grip on his bare waist?

Itto could feel himself squirm a little and look away, and you followed, not even letting him get a breathing room. You nudged the apple slice into his mouth still with that small smile that hid a lot of harmless malice, taking delight in the oni’s sudden subservience.

“What a good oni you are,” you repeated and Itto could do nothing but absorb every praise you’d give. “My good boy.”

He’s been such a good boy, right? Rarely any jail time for him. Surely you can reward him with something more palpable?

𐂂

Kaeya

Remorse was something Kaeya thought he would feel the moment he kisses his bachelor life goodbye. Admittedly, the situation with getting in a relationship with was a very rocky path he took on. It was a mess and even Kaeya could not smooth talk his way out of that kind of argument. It was an unhealthy push and pull, he wanted you so bad was much too terrified. He has other commitments and he has a mission to carry on his back.

But ever the benevolent person you are, you managed to put up with the highs and the lows of the infamous cavalry captain, letting him off to disappear for days only to come back in your arms, looking like a kicked puppy. Somehow you knew that even with his emotional availability, his constant flirting with others, you knew that even without the promise of his commitment, he would always, always come back to you.

And each time, you would receive him happily in your arms.

The moment that finally, Kaeya was somehow able to comfort or gaslight himself into thinking that a commitment to the real thing was miles better than him having to spend time with strangers, pretending that it was you underneath him. And boy was it a treat.

What Kaeya thought would be something he would entirely regret, turned into something far better (or worse) for him. You were the epitome of the alcohol he would spend mora on, the intoxicating heat that gets him all too feverish. You kept up with him like you did back when he would push and pull against you. His teasings quickly shut down by your quick mouth and sharp wit.

But he didn’t expect the way you were instantly able to subvert his expectations the night he decided to finally bed you. You took him with the dominance that he was sure rifthounds would cower from and he had to risk a day of being late in his position for the very first time in his otherwise clean career.

Within the few months, you’ve managed to embed yourself into his life like a poison, further dragging him down into something he can only see getting close to what seems to be an obsession. He was, by all means, addicted to your touch, the way you leave him breathless, and the way that absolutely no one knows the things you can do behind that innocent smile. Because you were a homemaker, the kind of person parents would recommend their sons and daughters to get married to.

It really was always the quiet ones.

However, you did not come without any risk. Kaeya was an important figure in Mondstadt, and more or less, he worried about your safety. Though it was not the usual safety issues that he has to deal with. Homemaker or not, he knew you can hold on your own with your vision. Though it was more on the fact that he had to keep the relationship a secret that you were in danger — as far as everyone was concerned, you were not taken.

And people sure did show their interest the moment you headed out to the tavern. He was supposed to have a quiet drink with you and enjoy your presence outside your lovely home for once.

“Oh, you absolute charmer!” One of the women by your side laughed loudly. She gave you a playful shove, and as someone who has been the one to receive and give such a tactic, Kaeya already knew her intentions with you. “It’s honestly a miracle of sorts that you’re still unwed!”

Kaeya had to intervene before any of the you-deprived people made a move. He entered the space and everyone parted out of respect. You only gave him a beaming smile that left him invigorated, “Ah! Captain Kaeya! What an honor!”

“Hoho~ the fabled Mondstadt’s homemaker heading out for drinks? How fascinating. Care to have a drink with me? I have much to ask of you.” It was a silent plea behind his words, and you weren’t always so mean to him hence your obedience, letting him lead you up into the far less populated second floor.

“Have you learned that there’s a way to see how well someone can kiss?” You were quick to bring up and Kaeya just had to know. He pulled you in by the waist, knowing that he’s safe from the prying eyes (and even if there were, he wouldn’t mind them seeing).

“Oh is that so? Pray tell what that might be, hm?”

“Apparently if you can tie a cherry step into a knot, it means that you’re an expert at it! And,” you paused, a hand digging into your pocket as you showed Kaeya what seems to be knotted stem, “Looks like I passed the test?”

Kaeya and his teasing nature couldn’t help but prod further, “Hoh? But shouldn’t I be the judge of that? Not some stem. Matter of fact, did you just do that to prove yourself… or to impress others?”

A mischievous mirth lit up in your eyes that usually gleamed of innocence and Kaeya was over the moon at hitting the jackpot. You wasted no second as you bent down, one knee already pressing up against his lower region and he had to stifle a quiet groan at the sensation. Truly, the grip you had in him was absolutely maddening.

With a grin, you tilted his head up, adoring the way his eye closed in anticipation. And to his surprise, he could only feel something rub up against his closed eye, as you gave it a generous lick, like a dog oh so happy to see his owner. But Kaeya had to wonder… just who was the owner in this relationship… surely even with the way you’re acting you would know…

You gave him a peck on the lips and Kaeya almost lost it when he could smell his favorite wine on you, “I may have to control myself for now, dearest. While it thrills me so, I believe you have a reputation to uphold.”

Kaeya could care less now, with eyes clouded with lust, he could only tug into your trousers with a lazy smirk, “Are you certain about that?”

The look in your hungry eyes said no.

𐂂

Tartaglia

Cruel — other than his loving family back in Snezhnaya, that was what people would initially regard him as if they were to know of his status as the eleventh harbinger of the Fatui. Should people look past his boyish charms and friendly smile, they would’ve known how utterly devious Childe could be. And that was something he took pride on, he loved the fear he instilled in his enemies and his time down in abyss only further exacerbated the carnal urge to come out on top.

He has his reasons though — considering that he was the youngest among the lineup of the Tsarita’s harbingers. He has to prove his spot, and if being merciless was the way to go through it all, then he would gladly do so with little to no complaints.

Alas, he was a competitive fellow too. Almost everything is a challenge to him; one he would take on with gusto and flawlessness; essentially what his trademark is meant to be. But even he was sure that he could not compare to the likes of you.

Especially in cruelty.

His very endeared partner, you, hailing from nowhere, you suddenly became a sought after figure under the Cryo Archon’s kingdom. Admiration could not even come close to Childe’s feelings whenever you would grant him a few seconds of your time to show up. But now that he has you as his beloved sweetheart, none could pry him away from you. And admittedly, he even became far more hesitant in heeding the Tsarita’s orders should he be parted from you on missions.

He says you’re his sweetheart, but even Childe knows better. It was you who turned him into a subservient sweetheart, pliant and soft under your mean gaze, almost begging to be around you for even just one second. And you were sure that he’d have gone mad in ecstasy if you starved him with only your blood to offer for his sustenance. Hence the ecstatic look on your beloved harbinger was nothing short of adorable when the Tsarita had let you accompany him to Liyue.

However, your cruelty knows no bounds; and Childe learned that the hard way.

Or perhaps, he was still learning as he watched you completely ignore him since your arrival in Liyue, opting to dote on his subordinates instead, which greatly infuriated him beyond reason. You promised! You promised that only he could have your attention within your stay, and that you would make up for the time he headed back home only to hear that you were in Fontaine, holding an audience with the Chief Justice of the nation. But you weren’t making good on it in the slightest bit.

If only he knew that your cruelty was a process to be had. That your cruelty in itself was a form of sickening kindness, a way for him to need you more, to realize that he can’t have it any better after you… not like there was ever a need to convince him anyway.

And as the night finally fell, a moody Childe faced you as soon as you returned home from your little outing with the Liyue Qixing (whom you’ve made a promise to have a deal with in the near future). There was a cute pout in his lovely face and you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh in amusement, watching his normally blank eyes emit such ferocious jealousy.

“Careful dear, any more of that and you’ll be having wrinkles.” Your laugh was quick to pull him out of his brooding, finding it hard to stay mad now that finally, you were talking to him.

Childe felt like a child deprived of any form of love as he made a mad dash towards you who barely left the doorway and engulfed you in a hug, tight and absolutely refused to let go. If he were only more aware, he would’ve seen the pleased devious smile on your face before prying him away from you, resorting into a disapproving frown from your partner.

“You owe me this much, y’know? You—” Not even before he could make his proper argument, Childe already found himself getting pulled back in, a grip around his waist with one arm while the other caressed his cheek.

“I owe you?” Your mirthless laugh sends shivers down his spine and as your gloved hands linger down from his cheek down to the skin of his neck, Childe could only whimper in a poorly concealed excitement. “Dear, I owe you absolutely nothing.” You spat and the harbinger took it with open arms.

He was quick to be reduced into a speechless man as your eyes switched from something loving to something far more dangerous and addicting. Childe could feel himself stiffen in anticipation as your fingers lingered around his neck, tracing his Adam’s apple with a thinly veiled threat.

“I owe you nothing, you lowly harbinger. In fact, I’d like to raise a complaint, yes?” His throat bobbed at your cruel look. “The one night we spent on the ship, it was in rather poor taste. Matter of fact, I despised it. You performed so poorly, I had to finish myself off with someone else.”

It was a lie you both knew, but the thought of you with someone else already had Childe gripping against the lapels of your suit, in complete desperation to prove himself once more. “N-No, wait, I can…”

Your sneer was thrilling as it was arousing for Childe, and the mere thought that this would be the determinant of his life with you that was hanging by a thread was enough to get him going. Childe wasted no time to press up against you, in need to do better than his less than stellar performance.

Your lips ghosted over his trembling ones with a smirk. You absolutely loved your little harbinger.

𐂂

Thoma

Guilt flooded through Thoma’s heart as set his course on breaking another poor hopeful maiden’s heart. By all means, Thoma may be unassuming, but it was something already disproven by the many confessions he would receive on the daily. He was Inazuma’s fixer, and was quite popular around neighborhood, not only as the trusted keeper of the renonwed Kamisato siblings, but also as the reliable man that anyone could go to.

And who was anyone to argue? He really did know how to aid people, so much so that the prettiest maidens ought to take him for themselves, finding his abilities endearing, and that while he was no Kamisato, he still is one of the most attractive men in the nation. Often times he does find himself to be the butt of teasing from Ayato and the pitiful smiles that Ayaka would give him.

While one would think it shouldn’t even be that big of a deal, it was more of the fact that there was an existing reason for all of this turmoil. And that just happened to be his dearly beloved fiancé, you. Alas, Thoma never had the guts to tell most people about the love that you and him shared, but rest assured he was not trying to hide you. It’s more of the prejudiced notion of him being a mere housekeeper suddenly about to get married to an important figure like you in Teyvat.

People were conservative in their views, and rarely do they find it amusing when someone of high status hopes to get married to someone who is beneath them.

Thoma hated it so, but he was doing this more for you. He has heard of the extremes Ayato has to go through to keep the Kamisato name alive. And while you haven’t experienced the same thing, Thoma wasn’t going to be the first reason for you to suffer the same fate as his boss — hence his resignation to absolute secrecy.

You, however, did not mind. Sure, you were placed on a pedestal just because of your influence stretching across all nations, but even a small uproar about your marriage to Thoma was nothing in comparison to your gigantic business, in fact, your underground organization can quash any hushed whispers from every corner of this world. But you respected Thoma’s effort and found them quite endearing, him going through all those lengths just for your sake. Nothing could get you going more than an honest and loyal man like him.

What you didn’t appreciate however, was the scene before. You’ve officially arrived back home in Inazuma, dressed in your finest robes as you were hoping to surprise your beloved fiancé — only to be greeted with a less than pleasant sight of a woman nearly convulsing in embarrassment as she spilled her heart out to who was meant to be yours.

Thoma had to learn the hard way. You ought to teach him a lesson. And that was certainly a promise you would make good on.

Thoma’s house was nothing short of comfortable and cozy, far more humble than the grand castle that awaits him as soon as he marries you. And while the luxury it brought was absolutely divine, Thoma could only argue that his home is where you are. It didn’t matter where, as long as you were in it, Thoma can live in peace.

And nothing could justify the absolute happiness in Thoma’s once he saw you by the stove, cooking something. You… you were here! With him again! His home has finally returned.

Oh if only knew just how much guilt would pool in his little heart once you get on with the punishment.

Tiny gasps escaped from Thoma’s lips, quiet murmurs of pleas for you to slow down, to let him breathe and ask why the sudden aggression. He had never expected you to be so rough. Your presence could be intimidating (even to him in your first meet), but you were far more gentle than this beastly rendition of yourself.

Despite his begging, you heeded so little of his words and pursued even harder, fingers intertwining on the chain of his dog tag, where his engagement ring was. No wonder that woman didn’t take a hint.

“P-Please, dear— let me—!”

“Was this some kind of joke?” Thoma should be scared, he knows, but the way your lips pulled into a mean snarl had him squirming in a far more pleasurable way. He shrank under your gaze as you tugged into the ring. “You are my fiancé — and I was just about ready to forgive you for even entertaining that scag when I realized your ring wasn’t on your finger.”

Thoma’s eyes widened at your words. Never have you expressed such distaste and jealousy towards him before, sure, you were territorial, but at the very least you were not an unreasonably jealous partner. It only served as a surprise when he realized that he was barely fighting this side of you, finding himself pressing further into you, to appease you.

The sigh of disappointment that left your system was the straw that broke the camel’s back as he quickly threw his arms around your neck, pulling you close as he murmured his apologies. He couldn’t bear to see you like this and to see you so disappointed in him… he might as well leave this plane of existence.

However, you quickly dismissed his apologies, “Let me make it up to you dear,” you muttered against his neck, already ready to nip at his creamy skin. “I’ll make sure no one ever makes the mistake of approaching you ever.”

Needless to say, the angry bright red marks on his neck never left under your surveillance and vigorous reapplication until Thoma drills the fact that he was yours into his head for good.

𐂂

Zhongli

Submission is a concept that Zhongli as Morax could never hope to entertain. He was the domineering figure in Liyue, being its god and everything. His position towered over his fellow adepti and ruled over every being that stepped in his nation with an iron fist. Zhongli would even go as far as to admitting that he was a brute at times, resorting into bouts of possessiveness over what was his. Only that, he can blame on his dragon characteristics.

However among all the people that hailed him up until his death, there was one that he just couldn’t particularly figure out. That thing being you — a puzzle piece that he couldn’t figure out. You were the physical embodiment of the rock that trips any unfortunate mortal in their path.

There was just something with the way you held yourself with your decadent nature that was sure to allure people from left to right. You carried yourself so lightly with an air of innocence yet every move you made was no doubt calculated, precise, and hypnotically seductive, luring him in like a sweet poison.

And as the years went by, he had worked tirelessly to close the gap that you yourself have made him aware of. He found it utterly laughable — the fact that he, the one who lords over everyone, making a conscious effort to get close to you. In fact, he was even sure it was you that compelled him to do so, forcing him into your space like a vortex that only has the intention of drawing him in and swallowing him whole.

Truly, Morax was worth his salt — considering that he was correct about his assumptions.

Zhongli sat with you in the comfort of his favored restaurant, opening his eyes after relishing in the tea that was served only to see your unabashed staring. He lightly bristled, surprised at your undivided attention. Even with the times you and him have spent together, nothing could best that gaze of yours — something that Zhongli felt proud in holding the distinction of having. No one has ever seen you look at someone like the way you looked at him, and it was something that the former Geo Archon took pride in.

“Something on your mind, darling?” He asked, hoping to pry open those chaotic thoughts of yours.

Still with that cloying smile of yours that he so loved to look at you, reached a hand to thumb at the corner of his lips, “Just you.” You laughed as you felt him stiffen under your touch. Zhongli truly was a treat for you to indulge and one you can never let go of.

He was your precious little dragon, unknowingly obsessive and possessive and so painfully subservient under your touch. You so loved to toy with him most of the time, but even then, you couldn’t erase the fact that he has you wrapped around him just as much he does to you.

Zhongli could feel his breath hitch as your gentle hands slowly pried his mouth open, and he, without question abided. You were still an enigma to him, still completely unaware of how much you’ve trapped him within your hold, with no hopes of escaping (not like he has wanted to). And as your fingertips brushed against his soft lips, he was much too distracted when a carnal desire glinted through your eyes.

The former god had to thank the bustling busybodies of Liyue harbor for covering up the absolute debauchery you had subjected yourself and him into — by the small gap between shops, dark enough from the shadow in between, you had pushed Zhongli into it with a look of desire on your face.

It must’ve been because he sought you out and that he was used to being the one who has to keep up with you, but there was something so delicious in the way he always craved for your touch. You weren’t even so scarce with it either, as every time he demanded, you obliged. Oh how foolish he was to think that he was the one with control — unable to realize the mere fact that with every touch that leaves him breathless is a poison the continues to corrupt him from the inside out.

Suddenly, every touch of yours was not enough — that he needed so much more, and all of it can be proven with the way Zhongli had desperately pulled you into him. He was filled to the brim with the need and want and you did not withhold any of it.

He was left gasping as you fondled him through his work clothes, lips attached to his neck that left one too many marks.

“Darling, please…” his pleas came out in a form of a breathy whimper and you had to be cruel.

“Oh? Look at you, so absolutely ruined, my lord.” Your jabs went straight the heat that pooled into his stomach, suddenly taken aback by your sudden coyness. It was taking him back to all those centuries that past when you and him were young and stupid.

Zhongli gripped onto your shoulders, uncaring whether or not he too had wrinkled your suit. A pleading look flashed through his eyes, much to your elation. But you continued to toy with him, somehow after being spoiled rotten, even the wisest consultant of Liyue could not resist the feeling of impatience that painfully ate away at him.

“How do you think your other adepti friends would say at the sight of their dear old Morax… so pitifully in need of his beloved’s touch?” Your words sent shivers down to his spine. You just took away his demands for your touch and now you’re depriving him of the praises you would sing to him so sweetly every time? How cruel!

A whimper escaped from his trembling lips, “It’s not… it’s not pitiful…” He tries to fight and justify but even then he knew it was a futile attempt.

Your hands that gripped his waist tightened and he fought the urge to grant you that sweet delectable sound of pleasure out of revenge, “I find that very hard to believe.” You weren’t even trying as you drew out what you wanted from him with one more forceful squeeze against his supple flesh.

His head quickly fell into your shoulder and you can slowly see the disappearance of the feared warrior god as Zhongli begged for your touch, “Please… don’t deprive me of this… you’re all I need and have…”

A huff of amusement left your system as you tipped his head up by the chin, you leaned in, giving him one tiny peck that elicited yet another soft whine and licked his lips, watching them glisten with your saliva.

“Right you are dear… I’m all you have and that’s all you’ll ever need.”

[misc-obeyme]

do you think solomon felt guilty for taking so long (season 2) to tell mc he was immortal? the hints were there and no one was subtle about it, so it's easy to assume that mc already knew or guessed the truth, but it takes so long for him to say it clearly. feels like a good source of angst, especially since he finally tells them in the reaper's cave

Okay so I had to go back and re-read this part, which is in Lesson 36-3 for anyone who wishes to play through that part again.

But here is the relevant moment:

He seems so casual about it. In fact, right before this if you choose something like wait how is that possible his response is this:

Now. I think this could be read two different ways. You could see all this as Solomon being like, obviously this is no big deal. If you take it at face value, he seems rather unbothered by the whole thing and doesn’t seem to mind telling you what happened and that he’s immortal.

However. I do think that Solomon does this thing where he acts really casually about stuff when he actually feels something more deeply, especially when everyone else is there. In this moment, all the demon brothers are present and they already know this fact about him. So maybe he was not trying to hide it, but not bringing it up to MC on purpose. But when they’re all there, he can’t exactly deny it, so he decides to act as though it’s no big deal. He almost glosses over this and directly after they have this short revelation, they get back to the task at hand (finding Beel’s candle).

So while I think there probably isn’t anything deeper to this instance in the actual story, I DO think there’s plenty of room for reader interpretation. (To be clear, I don’t think there was anything deeper to this moment in season two of the OG, but there certainly seems to be more about the Solomon immortality piece in general, especially in Nightbringer. I think it might be very relevant to the NB plot.)

And the fact of the matter is, currently MC is NOT immortal.

This is an issue that’s present for all the characters, but it has a really heavy impact for Solomon specifically, imo. This is because he’s HUMAN. He isn’t naturally immortal, he should have died long ago. And not only that, but he’s going to live on indefinitely. And all his fellow humans live short lives and die, leaving him perpetually alone.

It’s painful. Imagine always losing everyone you’ve ever loved. Always being the one still lingering after they’re all gone. Imagine being careful to never get too close to anyone because you don’t want to suffer through the pain of losing them later. Imagine knowing about the Devildom and the Celestial Realm and magic and sorcerers with such a deep understanding, but never being able to share it with anyone. Those that do join you in the study of magic will never be at your level because they die too soon. The only friends you can count on having for any decent length of time are demons or angels - beings that can’t understand your very existence.

Nobody can tell me that all of this isn’t something that Solomon thinks about. That maybe this is one of the things he tries to forget about by throwing himself into research. That this is one of the things that plagues his racing mind when he’s trying to sleep.

Then imagine along comes another human who might almost be on your level. Someone who has the potential to understand you in a way nobody else ever has. Someone you’re inexplicably drawn to, someone you can’t help but fall in love with, someone who’s still mortal. Someone you’ll inevitably lose like you’ve always lost everyone else before.

Do I think he felt guilty? Yes. The game plays it off as a sort of quirk about him, but the implications are so heavy that I just headcanon my own thoughts about it. And I think that Solomon would try to stay in that place of ignorance for as long as possible. He likely felt bad about obscuring this fact from MC - again, not lying about it or even really going out of his way to hide it, but just… not telling them.

However, I think that he felt a lot worse about what that truth means for him and for MC.

Oh dear I may have gotten carried away. Listen, you asked for angst and I have thoughts about this lol.

Lemme leave you with one last thing, though. I completely forgot he said this:

LOOOOOL. I dunno about you guys, but I refer to him as an old man all the time. I’m pretty sure we do that collectively as a fandom, so the fact that he straight up said not to do that way back in season two of the OG made me CACKLE. I’m sorry Solomon, but calling you an old man/grandpa/peepaw/etc is too much fun. It’s okay, Lucifer and Simeon get called those things, too lol. It’s a compliment, I swear.

[tenderleavesbob]

The thought first occurred to Warriors during the war. Everyone told him that the war wasn't his fault and at the beginning of the war, he even believed it. He kept believing it until he met Cia in person at last. It was hard to believe anything or in anything after that.

Princess Zelda tried to comfort him afterwards but she was better at taking action than words. She liked to fix things with her own hands. Neither of them knew how to fix something which couldn't be killed with a sword.

General Impa had some of the words, enough for Warriors to know that she had dealt with something like this before. It made him feel a little better and more humiliated at the same time. It made it clear that she knew exactly what happened to him. Worse: it was clear that she knew what he was thinking.

As the war continued and traitors arose through their own choices and Ghirahim's magic, Warriors couldn't fight the thought anymore. The war was his fault. Maybe some of those traitors were right. Maybe there would be no war if there was no war prize.

More than anything, it was the thought of Mask and Tune which kept Warriors fighting. No one knew if Cia would turn to them if she lost him. Warriors would stand and raise his sword every day for the rest of his life rather than risk it. Better he be the war prize than them.

After the war, it was harder. Princess Zelda and General Impa were there but everyone else was gone. Mask and Tune were gone. The loneliness was stifling and the whispers in his mind were deafening without his friends to block them out. He was alone. His battle was done. The Master Sword was returned, and despite Zelda's best attempts, Warriors felt like a symbol at best, a war prize at worst.

When the portal opened and Warriors was reunited with Time and Wind and met the others, he thought it would be better. He had his loved ones back. He had a purpose again. Everything was supposed to be okay.

He was wrong.

Why did he still feel like this? Warriors wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his forehead against his knees. They were at Twilight's village and his brother was ecstatic. He was off showing everyone else his home, and Warriors was hiding in Twilight's treehouse home. He should be with his brothers but was instead doing this.

Everyone was stressed. This was their first real stop in weeks. The number of black-blooded monsters seemed to have increased in the last month. This stop seemed like a gift from the Three.

Warriors knew his role. He knew he should be with his brothers, encouraging Twilight and asking questions, goading the others to laugh, reminding Time to rest his burdens for a moment. Warriors knew the importance of these rest periods and the best ways to take advantage of them to return refreshed to the battlefield.

He should be with them. He should be fine. Why was he like this?

Warriors dug his nails into his scalp and ground his forehead into his knees. It hurt and sometimes, pain snapped him out of it. Sometimes, he purposefully sought pain just for relief from these thoughts. It felt better for skin and bone to hurt rather than whatever was happening inside him.

"Make it stop," he whispered. Warriors needed it to stop or at least quiet enough so he could join his brothers.

Warriors knew one way for it to stop. One way for it to stop forever.

He whimpered quietly. Impa told him not to trust his thoughts in these moments. She warned him that they would spiral, and if he allowed it, he would drown in the whirlpool. He knew his thoughts were bullshit. He knew it.

His brothers loved him. He was needed. Queen Zelda would notice if he never came back. His friends would notice if he didn't return from this quest.

If Warriors kept telling himself that, he might even believe it.

"Warriors."

Warriors tensed. His breathing sped up. Oh Goddess. Not Legend. He didn't want any of the others catching him like this, but not the Veteran.

"Warriors. Hey. Hey. Can you look at me?"

Legend, who had gone through so many adventures and was still going, still fighting, and he did it all younger than Warriors. As if Warriors needed more reminding that --

"Link!"

Warriors's breath caught and he choked on it. He coughed into his knees and trembled. His head ached.

Legend knelt beside him, the protective concern in his eyes like a knife through Warriors's chest. He couldn't remember Legend ever looking at him like that. "Hey," Legend repeated. "I need you to breathe for me. In and out. Nice and slow." He reached out and gently took Warriors's hands in his own. They were thin and scarred and strong. Warriors felt guilty for it but clutched his hands, anyway. His scalp hurt where he had been grabbing it. "Breathe with me."

Warriors felt foolish and weak, but he obeyed. He was good at following orders. He breathed in slowly and matched Legend's breath. His eyes burned but the pain in his chest slowly began to recede.

"Good," Legend murmured. "Thank you. Keep breathing with me."

Legend squeezed his hands, and Warriors desperately clutched Legend's hands back. Anything to keep from flying away.

"I'm here with you," Legend said softly. The tenderness on his face made Warriors want to cry. "You're okay."

He was okay. Warriors repeated that to himself and held it to his heart like an anchor. He was okay. This would pass. It always would.

What broke him and made Warriors weep wasn't the gentleness in Legend's eyes but the understanding.

The only thing worse than feeling this way was the possibility that one of his brothers had felt like this, too.

[moon-catto]

Why do you want to marry me?

Part I | Part II

Summary: will you really end the engagement this time?

Warning: hurt with comfort at the end.

Masterlist

The morning came like a thunderstorm. Your eyes are hurting because you spent the night before bawling your eyes out for the love that got away and shattered hearts. For the temporary sweet memories and everlasting wounds. Even if you are sure you have emptied your tear ducts, the pain in your heart doesn't subside. Only numb, little pain reverberates following the beating of your heart— now hollow because it's missing its' other half.

You hate how you're unable to hate him for taking half of you. You will be never the same again after you stormed off his house yesterday, your legs left the pieces of you as you left his home which once was your safe haven. It's nothing but a stranger's property now.

You may have overreacted yesterday, pulling your ring and stuff. You regretted it, but maybe it's for the best since you don't have to feel so lost and confused like you were when he's missing.

Yeah. It's for the best.

You'll get over this sooner or later. This shouldn't stop you continuing your life. Before you knew it, it all will be nothing but a bittersweet memory.

The day went faster than usual. Your hold on your bag tightened as the train stopped into a halt. Between the busy bustling of people in the station, you found yourself looking at the confectionery shop nearby. Varieties of candy and chocolate on display.

I'll give you my favorite candy since you're cute.

His voice rang in your mind again causing your heart to jolt with pain. It's suffocating, when you don't have his hand wrapped around yours to guide you around the train station. Your shoulder often bumped others, in an attempt to exit the train station.

You are at the entrance of the station.

Tasty, right?

A sigh escaped your lips when your body turned to the direction of the shop.

Just one last time.

The chocolate melts in your mouth. It's delicious. Always been. But today it tasted a bit bitter, somehow fitting with your mood right now.

You keep on walking forwards. The sky is painted with orange and blue color as the sun begins to set, shops are turning on their lights to prepare for the night to come. The shop beside you also lit up the lights in their shop window and it attracted your attention.

It's a wedding boutique. A piece of wedding dress is displayed beautifully on the shop window. The pure white color is fitting with the white pearls and tiny crystals adorning its fine material. The dress shines softly under the yellow light of the lamp above it, giving a serene magical feeling from the dress.

If you didn't do it, would you be able to wear this kind of dress besides him?

Your hand reached for the dress but only met with the cold feeling of the glass of the window.

Maybe not with him.

That should be a fact right now, since he didn't show any reaction yesterday. No notification from him either. However, your heart can't lie, the silent yearning of his name is so loud that you can't help but to tear up at the thought that he won't be a part of your future. Yesterday is the last time you will be seeing him.

You dragged your feet to your home heavily. Your gaze still casted at the road below, until you noticed a car is parked in front of your house.

The pain appeared again because you won't be able to mistake the owner of that car.  You've been inside countless times.

Hesitantly, you walked to the side to see a person currently curling up at your front door. His black attire and that famous white hair.

You may have stared too hard that he flinched when he felt your presence. Your feet are just a few meters away from him.

He raised his head, blue eyes peeking from the sunglasses he wore. They're red and a bit puffy but you don't dare to create any assumptions about it.

Silence filled the air when you locked eyes at him. The frown on your forehead is already a warning that you don't want him here.

It's obvious you hate him, what is he trying to do now?

"Hello." His voice is gruff, rough and hoarse. You may have mistaken him for being sick because of how terrible he sounded.

"...." You just nodded. Still wary of his ulterior motives. You still want him, but that doesn't mean you'll just accept him with open arms after what happened yesterday. Your waist is still hurting, a harsh reminder for you to not easily gave in.

He made way for you to open your door. His stare feels awkward as you try to spin the key to your home. The click of the door is clear, followed by the crisp sound of your wooden door pushed open.

You took a step inside. His lingering stare made it hard for you to slam the door close immediately.

"What do you want?" You sounded tired. Maybe because you're freshly off from your work…. Or because you have to deal with his shit again.

"C-can we talk?" He stutters, hands fidgeting nervously while awaiting for your response.

"I thought we talked yesterday." You looked at him. Your words just destroyed him, his face looked defeated.

"I know." He said, rather gloomy. "Can I… can I come inside?" He looks at you, still hesitant and nervous but he holds the entire constellation inside his eyes when he gazes at you. A hope that you would spare him a bit of your time.

The tables may have turned into your favor. Yesterday it was you who begged to talk to him, but now it's him. It's ironic, this scene is supposed to give you a kind of satisfied feeling. But it's not. If any, it just worsens your mood even further.

You don't give him an immediate answer. Judging from the snow that covered his shoulders, he's been here for some time. The tremble of his legs doesn't go unnoticed by you either.

"You should go home."

His face fell into a deeper desperation at your words. "Please, not more than five minutes."

"You had the audacity." You looked to the side, clearly irritated.

"Please…" he begged. The sight is so pitiful, his pleading eyes tugged on your heart. "I was wrong. I know I shouldn't treat you like that. You deserve better than me, but please…"

Thick white smoke came from his lips each time he's talking, you noticed the edge of his nose bridge is red and his usual pink lips is blue now.

This stupid man.

"Just five minutes." You gulped down the bile building inside your throat and entered the house. He's looking at your back with an awestruck look on his face.

Hurriedly, he followed you and locked the door.

"Sit there." You instruct him while making your way to the kitchen. Preparing two cups, one filled with warm tea and the other with hot chocolate and four pieces of marshmallows on top of it.

You wordlessly gave him the drink and turned on the heater in the living room.

He noticed your gesture, heart filled with gratitude and also genuine pain because he hurted a caring person like you.

"Speak."

The monotonous tone of yours ripped his heart into shreds. He had to endure it because he caused all of this.

"...I'm sorry."

"And?

"I'm sorry... I don't think I stress that enough." He said, with regret filling his face.

You looked at the warm tea in your hand. "I don't understand."

He keeps his lips shut to wait for your next words.

"Why are you sorry now?" You asked. "I get the feeling that you know how this will turn out in the end. Still, you did what you did." Your face turned sour, clearly disappointed at him. "Is this a new game of yours? Playing with my feelings?"

"No. I didn't mean to play with you. It may be the opposite."

This time you looked at him, still not able to fathom what he is implying.

"You broke up with me. It's the goal of this whole thing." He confessed, his voice is clear but you can't read the expression he's wearing now.

"Then why are you here? Your goal is fulfilled." You crossed your legs and lay back to the couch.

"Because I can't let you go." He told you. "I could never…" his voice cracked and you can hear quiet sobs coming from him.

His shoulders slumped down and you never saw him in this state before. So vulnerable, lost, and hurting so much.

"I'm waiting until you break up with me… that's why.. why I did everything…"

You're at a loss for words. His confession doesn't lessen the pain but just amplifies it. The rage slowly seething inside at his betrayal to you. So if you don't confront him like yesterday, he'll be the one who breaks things with you.

"Will you be the one … who broke things off I didn't?"

"No." He honestly answered. "I can't. That's why I let you do it."

"I still don't understand. Are you that afraid to tell me the truth? That you had enough of me?"

He shook his head. "Until now, I still love you the same as I did before." He sniffled. "The only one I love, is you."

"You hurted me."

"I'm sorry."

"You lied to me."

"I.. I know."

"Then you came here, asking for me after you did everything?" You can't hold back your cry. You're confused, stressed, and hurting too much. It feels like your heart is bleeding inside and filling your chest with blood. It's suffocating on how your intense emotions mixed together and formed something so foul inside, like a rotten rose pierced directly into your heart.

He quickly rises from his seat and reach to you at the sound of your sobs. He kneeled before you and gazed upon the woman who owned his entire universe, now crying because of his stupidity. A sin for his goddess.

"Y/N…" his voice softens in an attempt to comfort you. His arms pulled you into his embrace, his whole body trembling hearing your painful cry like it pains him physically. But it does, because not only you own his heart, also his body and mind. He gladly trades his soul for your happiness.

"I'm sorry, hey… please don't cry…" he said that but his own tears rolled off from his eyes too. "My love…"

"What exactly do you want?" You asked between your cries. "Why are you making things so difficult?"

"I know right." He kissed your cheek as a silent apology. "Being with me is so difficult." He said, almost to himself.

You continue to cry. His shoulders is like an anchor for you to settle for a moment, his warmth enveloped you with security nobody could offer. Your only love, the only man you want to see at the aisle.

He carried you gently to your bedroom. Kisses on your skin occasionally.

"I want to marry you." He said after he puts you on your bed.

Your breathless sobs made you unable to form any coherent words.

"But my family made it hard to do so."

"Because I'm not a—uh—ugh- sorcerer?"

"Yes, love." He kissed the skin under your eyes lovingly. "And I'm trying to keep you by my side all these time."

"You never told me—uh— thes—ugh—ese."

"I don't want my bride to worry." He said softly. "They're really stubborn and rude… I don't want you to meet them. Ever."

He still cradles you in his arms, and you fisted his shirt tightly as if he would disappear if you let him go.

"T-that's why you want me to break up w-with you?" You asked, the word break up made his eyebrows knitted into a frown.

".... Yeah." He admitted. "Marrying me will only give you more headache. You'll suffer more if you continue to be with me."

You looked at him, his eyes gazing gently at yours like a serene ocean. But you know now that he hides a turbulent wave behind those loving eyes. The silent sacrifices he made just for another day with you, to secure a future where he can officially make you his.

"Do you still want to be with me?"

His question is full of insecurity. All of his worries were revealed just with that sentence. You held onto him tighter and he leaned down to seal your lips into a deep kiss.

"I love you." He whispered on your lips. "I need to cut you off before I fall deeper."

"Do you really?"

He blinked in a slight confusion.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"...Never." He shook his head firmly and this time you pulled him for another kiss.

The desperation he held seeped into the kiss. The need to be close to you is driving him insane. He needs you—he wants you to be with him forever. He'll lock you up in a place nobody would know so he can be with you until the end of the times.

"I'll continue to fight for you."

He pushed himself on the bed, hovering over your smaller figure with both arms on the sides of your head. He continued to cover your skin with kisses when you separated. His marks on your necks, your soft hums carried away the dark thoughts tainting his mind.

"I'll marry you." Your soft whisper on his ear made his stomach turn upside down, butterflies bursting in vibrant colors. "Don't push me away again."

"I won't, my love."

Now that you know he'll keep his promise, you gladly gave him the keys of your chains.

Locking yourself once again inside his heart that you always owned.

Masterlist

[lieutenant-teach]

Several months after the Clone Wars. Aq Vetina is devastated by the Imperial forces. Ex-Commander Cody meets little Din Djarin. Post The Bad Batch s.2 ep.3, non-canon compliant. 1/3 part (part 2), (part 3).

It was Cody’s best decision in last months – defecting from the Empire. With it came guilt – crushing guilt, sorrow, pain about everything and everyone lost. How easier and horrifyingly right it seemed – to just execute orders given by somebody else without thinking. Good soldiers follow orders. And how harder it was now to fully realise and to live with consequences of what had been done – by him and to him. Now, when he knew about the chips. When he knew that he killed General Kenobi. When he knew how many of his brothers across the galaxy were killed in these several months or remained slaves to the chips. When he knew that they were made to kill their only friends they had in the whole galaxy – the Jedi. All of them.

But also he knew – it was life now. A real life. Owning his body and mind. Out of the Republic’s control, out of the Empire’s control. But also – miserable life. No purpose, no aim, no meaning. Everything he fought for in the war – led to this. Exact opposite of what he imagined, strived for.

The planet of Aq Vetina wasn’t the immediate choice to stop. But it could do – at least to refill the supplies and to fix up an old ship taken from the junk yard on Kessel. Though Cody couldn’t tell where he was heading to. Or what he was going to do at all. Emptiness filled his days and nights, his heart, his every step he took in this new Galaxy.

It was impossible to live without a purpose.

Maybe, some would say ‘live for yourself, for your pleasure’. But Cody didn’t even know how to live for himself – he was designed for serving, and he didn’t want to – while there was so much injustice in the Galaxy. He’d be happy to help his brothers – or anyone, for that matter, he’d seen how many worlds suffer under the Empire’s iron boot – but he couldn’t do it alone. He didn’t have any resources, didn’t have any rebel connections, had no idea where to start. His failure to save still brainwashed Boil hurt as all hells together. The Imperial might didn’t know limits – Cody knew it all too well. As much as it hurt thinking about it, he experienced it firsthand, moreover, took part in it. It disgusted himself – what would General Kenobi say if he saw him like this? Memories about him hurt even more, bleeding his heart almost physically.

The town Cody was approaching didn’t look well. Even more, with every step forward he saw the signs of recent Imperial presence – burned houses, bodies scattered around. Mud, dirt and blood squishing under his boots. Cody could tell the Imperials left – otherwise he’d be already caught, the familiar camps would be erected, just as familiar white armours bustling around. Still, Cody didn’t lower the hood of his tattered brown cloak, looking around and staying alert as he always had been during his whole life. The blaster was on the hip, fingers slightly touching it.

‘Why?’ – he thought looking along the streets and seeing more and more destruction. Though he also knew – the Empire didn’t need much to start ‘crushing the traitors’, as they called it. The propaganda worked magically with the Jedi, after all. From what Cody could tell, moving to the centre of the town, there were no survivors.

The Empire was nothing but efficient, that he knew all too well.

Then he heard something.

Tensed, grabbing the blaster, listening in.

The sound repeated.

Whimpering?

Survivors?

The metal lid in the junk corner moved. Cody froze, not taking his eyes off, squeezing the blaster. It could be an Imp.

And then he saw a child peeking from the hole in the ground from under the lid – Cody guessed it was a basement.

The child locked the eyes with his and dived in back.

Cody holstered the blaster and came to the basement. Not coming too close, kneeled and called softly:

– Hey? – and cringed of the rough and scratchy sound of his voice after several weeks of silence – didn’t have any need to talk, or anyone to talk to, anyway. – Kid?

First there was nothing, only ragged and hitching breathing heard from the slit between the lid and ground.

– I’m not an Imp, - ‘Of course, the kid would be scared. Quite possible, the parents were killed right in front of their eyes’.

A couple of beats – nothing. Then two small dirty hands appeared on the edge of the ground. Big brown eyes looked at him from the red hood with infinite fear.

– Promise. I’m not one of them, - Cody slowly took off the hood. – Have you seen any troopers with pictures on their uniform? – he pointed at gray sunrise on the remains of his armour – the left vambrace, gloves and pauldrons were missing, same as couters and sabatons. He tried to smile encouragingly, but the kid didn’t look convinced, and Cody didn’t blame them – he forgot how to smile since… since Utapau. – Did you hide there during the attack?

The child nodded warily, clearly ready to bolt at any disturbing movement.

– Were… you parents killed?

 The child’s eyes started filling with tears.

– Let’s get out of here, - Cody raised, and the kid shrank and flinched away, awaiting for what – a kick? A shot? Then the child’s eyes widened incredulously at Cody’s outstretched hand.

Fragile fingers clasped cautiously around his.

---

– So, do you have any more relatives? – the kid turned out to be a tanned dark-haired boy of eight standard years, maybe – Cody was always bad at guessing ages of natborns. – I could take you to them, – he mused a little and added: - You do understand Basic, right?

The boy nodded, still tensely looking at him from his hood and hugging himself on the upturned crate near the fire next to Cody’s ship. Then shook his head.

– No relatives, then, - somehow, Cody knew it would be like this. But he couldn’t just take a kid with him – too dangerous. Unless… - What do you think about finding you a new home? – the boy tensed even more. – I know it’s hard for you now, I’ve lost my family too. But I can try to find at least a good place for you to stay, if not a home, – he gave him a stick with some roasted meat pierced on it – the kid raided his home before they left.

The boy shrugged, and Cody could very well relate. Also he knew that the initiate shock would pass, and tears were inevitable – he had similar situations with some shinies after their first battles, seeing how the older, more hardened brothers soothed the surviving newbies, sometimes intervening himself to reassure the boys who lost themselves in horror and shock. Learning within sterile Kaminoan walls had been entirely different form the real taste of war.

– What’s your name, kid?

The boy looked at him, but said nothing. Either he wasn’t able to speak, or stress took away this ability – Cody read about such occurrences among war survivors at the Jedi Temple Archives.

– I’m Cody, - he gave a small mirthless smile, not expecting an answer. – Can I call you… I don’t know, Brown Eyes?

The boy looked at him with eyebrows raised, then shrugged again.

– Fine then, Brown Eyes, - absent-mindedly Cody nipped off some bread – how long hadn’t he tried real, actual food, not tasteless rations? – Finish your meal, we’ll have a night in the ship – it’s small, but you can take the co-pilot seat. Fly-off at 0600, - he mentally kicked himself for talking to the kid as to a soldier, but the boy seemed fine with it.

Some minutes they sat silently, watching the fire sparks trying to break the night’s darkness only to disappear in it.

– Why is your sunrise gray?

Cody startled at the sound of a quiet childish voice. Brown Eyes was looking at him with shy curiosity – or, more precisely, at his cuirass with the paint remains, courtesy of the Empire. Or mockery.

– Because I lost all the sunshine of my life, - grieving pain, his only companion for all these months of lucidity and solitude, rolled up to his throat in a bile, and Cody swallowed hard, not intending to break down in front of the traumatized child. – Sorry, kid.

– Din Djarin, - Brown Eyes suddenly said, looking straight into Cody’s eyes. – This is my name. – He shuffled, as if wanted to move closer. – And I’m not the only Brown Eyes here.

At this Cody actually chuckled:

– Well then, Din Djarin. Welcome abroad.

[hyprfixate]

soul vine ↝ [L.M.] :: part two

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: when you decide to get an ear piercing as part of your transition to adulthood, you expect a lot of things, like the pain and the high price tag. what you don’t expect, however, is finding out you’re soul-bound to the angry blonde from the parlor. or that you’re technically not human.

but hey. adulthood, right?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee minho x she/her reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ chapter word count: 4.1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: magic au, grumpy minho, fantasy, medium burn, strangers to enemies to friends to lovers, soulmate au (will add more as i think about it)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: this took so long to write and im not even sure i’m satisfied with it, but i hope you all enjoy! as usual if you see formatting mistakes, no you didn’t.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tag list: @mal-lunar-28 (comment on this post to be added!)

part one - part two - part three - part four

“Oh shit, are you okay?”

With your eyes scrunched tight from the pain, you weren’t able to see Hyunjin reaching out for you or Minho’s shocked face off to the side. Tears pooled in your lashes as you clutched at your ear, the pain making your ears ring.

“Okay, it’s okay, I got you.”

A hand, you assumed it to be Hyunjin’s, pressed something cold against your ear. Slowly, the pain started to dissipate little by little, until you found your eyes open again, blurred by the remnants of tears.

Hyunjin’s plump lips were slack in surprise and confusion. He glanced over at Minho, whose face was tight and slightly annoyed. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he held the paper bag with the care instructions in one of his hands.

“You’d think letting your piercer know you’re allergic to silver would be common sense, huh.” His annoyed tone was punctuated by a raise of his eyebrow.

“You’d think the piercer would realize I wouldn’t know, since I don’t have any piercings.”

You stared at him with a deadpan look on your face. Next to you, Hyunjin bit his tongue to stop from laughing. It didn’t prove to be very helpful, however, and his shoulders still shook slightly.

After composing himself, Hyunjin cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah so, if it continues to hurt like that you can come back and we’ll swap the earring out for you.”

He snatched the care bag from Minho and presented it to you. “Maybe it was just a delayed reaction to the pain though. Make sure you follow all the instructions here carefully, okay? We don’t want it to get infected.”

“Another thing,” Minho piped up. “Hopefully the picture is off the board now— and if it isn’t, take it down when you get out there Hyunjin— but if anyone asks where you got that earring, don’t send them here.”

Both you and Hyunjin stared at him like he lost his mind. “Uh…”

“We’re trying to run a business here, dude,” Hyunjin sighed. He turned his attention back to you. “You can tell them where you got pierced. But, yeah, maybe don’t tell them Minho made the earring specifically. He’s touchy about it.”

You remembered how gorgeous it looked in your ear, and you felt yourself smiling slightly. Gatekeeping, in this instance, had to be okay, right? The artist himself didn’t want anyone else to wear his artwork, so it was almost necessary. You reached an absent minded hand up to your ear, and traced your finger over the heart.

“Thank you, Minho,” you whispered.

The blonde blinked in surprise, almost as if he wasn’t used to the phrase. For a second, you thought his grouchy exterior would wash away.

“Whatever. I hope you like it.”

Nevermind.

“Come on, I’ll walk you to the front,” Hyunjin said softly. With a gentle hand on your back to guide you, he began walking out of Minho’s studio, casting an unreadable glance back at Minho, who was staring at you.

Once the two of you were out of earshot, you turned to Hyunjin. “Is he normally like that? Or did I offend him by getting this earring?”

“Hm? Oh, Minho! No, he’s just like that. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He paused for a second. “Well, I mean, he’s just like that when it comes to the earring. It’s a…. cultural thing?”

You felt yourself freeze. “A cultural thing..?”

Did you just unknowingly commit a micro-aggression? Anxiety brewed in your gut as you stared at Hyunjin with large, pleading eyes.

“Oh— no! Don’t worry! The earring isn’t the cultural thing— or, well it kind of is, but not in like a… I mean, like…”

Your anxiety didn’t quell with Hyunjin stuttering over his words. Common sense told you that the earring had a complicated history, and there wasn’t much Hyunjin could tell you that would make sense without the background context. You paused his anxious bumbling by putting a hand on his arm, causing him to look over at you.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I just want to know if I’m… disrespecting a culture by wearing this. You don’t have to tell me a whole story if you don’t want to.”

The redhead let out a small breath. “Right. Okay. The history of the earring is a little complicated, but it’s a culture no one knows about. Except us here, in the studio.”

“Like an ancient civilization?”

He pressed his lips together. “Yeah. Something like that.”

A part of you didn’t believe him in the slightest, but you nodded anyway. “That’s kind of cool,” you offered. With his meek smile, you gave him a strong one. “So you guys are history buffs. Wouldn’t expect that with the tattoos and piercings.”

Hyunjin chuckled, continuing your walk to the front lobby. “You’d be surprised,” he giggled. “But, I’m glad you chose the earring. You seem like a nice person, and that makes me happy.”

You felt a smile creep onto your face at the praise. Before you could reply, Hyunjin parted the mysterious black curtain from earlier and ushered you out into the front lobby. Chan was seated next to the front desk, along with a new face you didn’t recognize. The silver hair, black gloves, and tattoos indicated that he also worked there, though, and so did Hyunjin’s warm smile.

Chan glanced up from his conversation and smiled at you. “All done?”

“Yeah,” you smiled back. You turned your head to show him, and he gave a wolf whistle in response.

“I’m so glad Minho actually did it,” he grinned. “It’s absolutely gorgeous. And everything else was okay?”

“We had a small mishap with a mirror,” you cringed. “I was looking at his little watermark and my ear started burning. He and Hyunjin think I might be allergic to silver.”

“Watermark?”

The new voice surprised you. The three of you turned to the third person, who’s almond eyes were round and sparkling. Noticing everyone staring at him, he shrunk into himself and gave a bashful smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Jisung raises a good point,” Chan mumbled to himself. “What watermark do you mean?”

Your eyebrow raised slightly. “The squiggles in the earring.” You made a squiggly motion with your finger. “When light hits them it spells out Minho’s name.”

A strange silence blanketed the front lobby. Chan furrowed his eyebrows, and his tongue peeked out of his mouth to mess with his lip ring. “Huh,” he mumbled. “We didn’t know about that part.”

The newcomer, Jisung, blinked quietly. “It makes sense.” His voice was quiet. “If you think about it.”

After another awkward beat, Chan clapped his hands together once. “Well, either way, don’t worry about the mirror. We run through them like laundry here. Especially Jisung.”

“Hey!”

Chan pulled out a few pieces of official looking paperwork. “Can I get your ID to confirm your age?”

You fumbled around in your pocket and handed him the small card. He gave it a quick glance and handed it back to you with a smile.

There was something about Chan and his smile that made you feel… safe. His eyes always seemed to be sparkling, and his expressions were always kind, even when he was arguing with Minho. You felt a smile appear on your face in response.

“Oh! Happy Birthday,” Chan grinned. “I’ll slide a little discount on there for you then. Everything comes out to be $45.”

You wrinkled your face. “That seems kind of low… Minho made the whole earring by hand.”

“But he was also a horrible piercer because he was grumpy,” Hyunjin piped up. “Birthday discount and a ‘We’re sorry for our friend’ discount.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you relented, and dug around your pocket to hand Chan the necessary money for your piercing, along with a bit extra. Grumpy or not, Minho did an amazing job with the piercing and the earring itself. He deserved something special.

And, besides, you did shatter his mirror.

Chan printed your receipt and slid it across the counter to you, along with a business card. It had a sloppily scribbled smiley face across the front, and you peered up at him with questioning eyes.

“Just in case you do decide to get lobe piercings,” he explained. “So you can call and I’ll let you know when our guy is in.”

“Or if you ever just want to hang out,” Jisung added. “I like your energy.”

You gave the bright eyed boy a smile as you slipped everything into your pocket. “I’ll consider it,” you teased. He smiled gently before picking up your care package and handing it to you.

Just as you reached out to grab it, the piercing in your ear felt like it’d been lit aflame. You dropped all your belongings as you reached to grab your ear with both hands, your knees almost buckling as the pain radiated through your head. Along with the pain this time came that suffocating feeling from earlier, when you first stepped into Minho’s studio.

Everything sounded like you were 10 feet underwater. You could barely keep your eyes open through the pain, your vision now littered with shadows and vague colors. You could see Hyunjin’s head of red hair leaping over the counter to get to you quickly.

From somewhere nearby, you could hear Chan calling your name with growing concern. You tried to steady your breathing in order to respond, but your efforts were futile. That was, until Hyunjin pressed another cold paper towel on your ear. Your gut instinct was to push his hand away, but he held you with a bit of force, rendering you motionless and almost limp in his arms. Bit by bit, the pain started to disappear again.

You wanted to keep your eyes closed, but a nagging feeling crept up your neck— a feeling that someone was watching you. You cracked one eye open, completely disoriented with your surroundings. You were on the floor, that much you knew, but you couldn’t tell what part of the lobby you’d landed on.

The nagging feeling returned, and you glanced slightly to your left to see Minho peering at you from behind the black curtain that led to the individual studios. His glare was menacing, but somewhat curious. Once he noticed your gaze on him, he disappeared quickly, leaving you alone with the three panicked men.

Speaking of—

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

You shifted your gaze to find Chan and Jisung kneeling in front of you. Chan was gripping his phone tightly in his hand as though ready to dial emergency services.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “My ear again. I’m okay now though, but I guess I really am allergic to silver.”

“That was worse than last time,” Hyunjin whined from behind you. Only then did you notice that you were seated between his legs like a small child. His grip on you was secure, so you knew there was no wiggling away.

Chan’s face had concern slapped right on it. He pressed his lips together and continued to stare at you as though he thought by breathing, he’d agitate the piercing and cause you to be in pain again. After a moment, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“I’m gonna have to get Minho to remake it in gold,” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry,” you said quickly. “It doesn’t have to be this earring, I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“No,” Chan said simply. “That's what you wanted, so that’s what you’re getting. Would you mind coming back in a week?”

You shrugged. You didn’t see why not, it wasn’t like you had things to do.

“Although, if the pain gets unbearable, you should come back sooner.” Hyunjin’s hand was gentle on your ear. “We have topical pain ointment that should help.”

After a beat of silence, Jisung offered you his hand and pulled you up to your feet. The rest of the boys followed, and soon you were all standing around the desk like you were before. Jisung handed you the care package, his fingers barely gracing yours for fear of seeing you double over in pain again.

“We have your number from the paperwork,” Chan said. “I’ll text you when the earring is ready. Or, like Hyunjin said, you can shoot us a text if you need to come because of the pain.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

The red-hot pain had dulled down into a mild ache, the kind you would expect from having a hollow needle take out a chunk of your skin. You rubbed at it absentmindedly, only to have your hand swatted at by Hyunjin.

“You’ll rub the ointment off,” he scolded.

You nodded sheepishly, slipping the care package bag into the reusable tote Chan was sliding over to you.

“Right, thank you guys.” Your mouth felt too heavy to speak, but you powered through. “You guys are great, I’ll see you in a week for the new earring.”

“Or sooner,” Chan interrupted. His gaze stayed pointed at you, as though he was looking through to your inner being. You gripped the tote for security as he continued. “Seriously, don’t feel like an inconvenience if you have to come in.”

“I’ll come in,” you assured him. He gave you another squint, but nodded eventually.

After three minutes worth of hugs from Hyunjin (and almost hugs from a sheepish Jisung), you felt the door of Tatt and Body Works click closed behind you. The uphill trek now looked manageable, and despite the pain in your ear, you felt level-headed and capable for the first time in a long time.

It wasn’t until a few days later that the problems started.

The piercing went from attacking you once a day to multiple times within the hour. Each episode lasted longer and longer, and after a while it would take up to an hour to recover.

Despite your promise to Chan, at first you held off on texting the parlor about it. In your mind, it was just an allergic reaction, and they were already working on something to help you. It seemed like overkill to get both the ointment and the replacement earring.

Then again, from the short interaction with Minho, you knew he hadn’t agreed to remake the earring so quickly. His stubborn streak was more like a stubborn stripe, and he probably only recently got started on it and was going to take his time completing it for reasons you couldn’t comprehend.

You tried using an image search engine to look up the general shape of the earring, just to see if you could figure out its meaning. The search results gave you nothing every time, no matter how many buzzwords you added. Hyunjin was correct, it truly was a part of a culture that no one knew about. You would feel more curious about it, if the damn thing wasn’t trying to send you to an early grave.

After a few days, you realized you couldn’t take it anymore and needed the ointment Hyunjin promised you. Whether Minho finished the earring or not was his business, but you refused to suffer any longer knowing there was a cure waiting for you a few blocks away.

So, with a courtesy text to the guys, you tossed your phone and wallet into a crossbody bag and made your way to the shop.

The air was cool on your face, giving the day a comfortable and delightful feeling. It was mid afternoon so the sun hung high in the sky, casting the shadows of buildings all along the street during your walk.

Once you reached the top of the hill, you peered down and noticed someone standing in front of the shop. You couldn’t make out their face from where you were standing, but their silhouette looked a lot like Hyunjin. They leaned against the brick wall, tapping away on their phone. You assumed— if it was Hyunjin— that he was on his break. After a few seconds, someone else walked out of the shop, said a few words to him, and disappeared around the corner.

The closer you got to the end of the hill, the more sure you were about it being Hyunjin. You were about to bite the bullet and call out his name when an eerie feeling washed over you.

You stopped dead in your tracks. It felt like fire and ice had chased each other up your spine before wrapping around your neck and leaving you in a chokehold. Anxiety brewed in your gut, and everything in you screamed for you to either turn around and go home, or make a mad dash for the parlor. But the sudden fear had your feet rooted to the ground, and you begged that Hyunjin would look up and see you.

As you focused your eyes back on him, you noticed that he had stopped tapping away on his phone. He was looking around with his phone gripped tightly in his hand. You knew at that moment that whatever you were sensing, he certainly was sensing too. You tried to push his name out of your mouth, but he quickly ran into the building and disappeared from your view.

That’s weird, you thought. Truly, weird was an understatement, but unless you tried to downplay your anxiety you’d be standing here for the rest of the day. You tried to shake the strange feeling off of your skin and so you could start walking again, but as soon as your foot lifted from the ground, you felt a hand tap you on the shoulder.

You whipped around quickly, coming face to face with a complete stranger. Your eyes were wide and wild, and you knew you looked as freaked out as you felt. They looked equally startled, however.

“Woah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

The stranger pulled their hand away from you quickly, stepping back to put some more space between the two of you. You pressed your hand over your chest to still your heart and nodded at the stranger, still too surprised to say words. He reached out his hand again, and this time you noticed your wallet sitting on his palm.

“You dropped this,” he offered. “I was trying to get your attention but I don’t think you heard me.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, thank you so much!”

You took the wallet from him and nudged your bag in front of you, but as you did confusion began to shroud your features. Your bag was still closed, and your phone was still in there, so how did your wallet manage to fall out? You poked around to check for holes, almost forgetting you were in the company of another person.

“That earring is really cool.” You looked up to see the man still standing by you, his eyes fixed on the metal in your ear. Your hand reached up protectively.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you mumbled. You remembered Minho’s warning (or threat, rather) not to tell anyone where you got the earring. You decided to remain paused on the sidewalk instead of continuing your walk to the parlor, just so the man wouldn’t make any connections. You glanced back at him with a polite smile and noticed that he was still staring, but his face was morphing from intrigue to something else.

Something sinister.

Your gut started screaming for you to get to the parlor as quickly as possible.

“Oh shoot,” you casted a glance at your wrist, cringing when you noticed there was no watch on it. You pressed on anyway. “I— I’m actually late for an appointment,” you said. You took two small steps backwards, prepping your legs for a sprint. “Thanks for the compliment, and for my wallet. Bye now.”

As you turned on your heels, you felt an arm grip you and spin you back around. Your breath caught in your chest as you faced your attacker, who was now staring at you with all the contempt in the world.

“Nah, little lady. I don’t think so.” His voice came out in a low growl, a tone so low that you swore you could feel it vibrating down to your toes.

“Let go of me!” You thrashed in his grip, trying to free yourself. His fingers held tighter— tight enough to bruise. You could feel tears beginning to make their way to your eyes.

With his free hand, he gripped your chin between his fingers and turned your head roughly to the side. “Tell me, who pierced your ear?”

When you failed to answer, his grip on your jaw increased and he raised his arm higher, effectively lifting you off of the ground. Now strung up in the air, you tried kicking and scratching at him, but he held you at arms length like a dirty sock.

“Stop resisting,” he barked. “Just take me to Minho, and everything will be fine.”

Your eyes went wide at the mention of Minho’s name, and a smirk appeared on the man’s face.

“Gotcha.”

You looked around frantically, hoping for someone to come bounding around the corner and save you. The struggle for breath was really starting to take hold of you, and you could feel what you assumed to be the beginning of consciousness loss. You gave one final weak kick before you gave up, fighting to keep your eyes open and your awareness in the present.

Just before the endless black sea took over your vision, you felt the grip on your jaw release, and you fell to the floor with an ungraceful thump. Your ears were ringing, but through the noise you could hear muffled sounds of violence, and you sent a wish to every power that ever existed that the new people were here to save you.

A hand pressed to your forehead, and you opened your eyes weakly to see the vague silhouette of a man looking back at you. You could barely hear him, but by reading his lips you could tell he was calling your name. His hold on your forehead got stronger, and the ringing in your ears cleared up just a bit, enough to tune into the conversation.

“—answering me, Chan! I don’t think— no, she’s up! She’s up!”

You felt the air whizz around you as Hyunjin picked you up bridal style and took off running. His grip on you was tight, and he kept speaking to you under his breath, trying to keep you alert.

“Hyunjin?”

“No,” he scolded. “Don’t speak, please. Not until I heal you, okay? I don’t want you to strain. Please.”

You felt the shift in air as he stepped into the parlor, not just from the AC system, but the homely, calming energy you noticed before engulfed you like a warm blanket. You felt the bounce in his steps as he took you up a flight of stairs, and after a second you found yourself laying on a couch, with his hand still on your forehead.

With your eyes better adjusted, you looked up at him. His normally bright eyes were dull and red, almost like he’d been crying for a long time. When he noticed you staring, he offered a small smile.

“Gave us a little scare there, huh?”

“What happened?”

He pressed his lips together and looked away, eyes searching the walls for his answer. At first, you thought he was looking at another person, so you tried to shift your position to see what he was seeing. However, the fall from earlier reared it ugly head, and you could feel a bruise forming on the spot where your body hit the ground. You let out a sharp hiss of pain.

Hyunjin looked back at you, concern in his eyes. “What hurts?”

“My back.” You shifted again. “I think it’s gonna bruise, from when I fell.”

Gently, Hyunjin eased you onto your side. “I’m gonna touch it,” he whispered. “But it won’t hurt for long. I’m gonna heal it.”

“What are you t—”

Hyunjin’s fingers graced the aching spot on your back, and though you prepared for pain it never came. Instead, a peaceful feeling blossomed all over your body starting from that one spot. You wiggled a bit to find that the pain was entirely gone.

Eyes wide, you turned back to Hyunjin, who was giving you another shy smile.

“What the fuck?”

“Surprise,” he laughed weakly.

Before you could ask him any more questions, pounding footsteps echoed near your head. Hyunjin sighed heavily as you turned your head around, coming face to face with a very angry blonde haired man.

Minho’s anger was palpable. He pointed a single finger at your face, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he did.

“We need to have a fucking talk.”

[miss-tc-nova]

All Not Lost - Percy de Rolo x Reader

Ventured into Vox Machina and now I'm in love with a nerd. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Premise: After years under a mind control spell, someone finds it hard to return to a broken home

Words: 2,688

Music Inspiration: The Magic Music Box - Orchestral Music by Jojo Comps

~~~~~

               Getting used to the loss of five years was never going to be easy. I lived an eternity in endless pain, but at the same time, in the blink of an eye, I lost everything. It wasn’t just the final years of my teens but also my whole world. My parents, my siblings, the friends I had, the people I loved—all of them in my life one moment and gone the next. Now I’m here, in this new world and trying to figure out how to take another step when I’m so afraid of walking.

               A voice pierces my mourning. Lifting my gaze from the text I’d long since lost track of, I find Percival de Rolo. It was Percy and his friends that tore me from Delilah Briarwood’s hypnotic spell, dragging me through time to a world I’m not sure I want to be part of.

               There’s something concerned on his straight features. It easily beckons a smile to my lips, a deceit I had much practice with lately.

               “Sorry, were you talking to me?” I ask a bit tongue in cheek.

               “I was, in fact.” Arms fold as green eyes peer at my tome from behind spectacles. “Though you seem far more engrossed in…the destruction of existence as we know it.”

               “Huh?!”

               A gloved finger points at the page, underlining the text that speaks of poorly performed magic that could unravel the fabric of reality.

               “Not planning to doom us all, are you?”

               “N-No! Nooo.” The book snaps shut, leaving the immediately vicinity via its flight over my shoulder.

               One of those dark brows quirk. “Really?”

               “Yeah. I was actually looking at teleportation spells but I guess I just…got lost in my own thoughts.”

               “I see.” Percy retrieves the tossed tome and returns it to the table. “Well no need to take it out on a perfectly good book. Though maybe we should reconsider its return if it contains the secrets to destroying the world.”

               I laugh. “I’m sure not a soul in existence has the power to pull that off. Besides, this is mine.”

               “So I should confiscate it.”

               “Only if you’d like to continue walking everywhere.”

               “We have Keyleth for that.”

               My expression falls deadpan. “What was it you needed me for?”

               He eyerolls my abrupt change of subject. “We’re going out for a drink and there were questions as to whether or not you’d care to join us.”

               “Oh…”

               I can understand that—a festive drink in celebration of another day survived. That’s the way Vox Machina enjoyed life and I could never deny them that. But I don’t feel like I survived, nor am I in the mood for said merriment.

               “I think I’ll pass but I appreciate the invitation.”

               Standing, I collect my text and start for the hall of borrowed rooms. Before I disappear, however, I pause.

               I lost it all beneath the Briarwood’s rule, and that included Percy. Yes, he stands before me now, but I can no longer claim him to be the boy I served for all those years—the boy I befriended. Somehow, this truth hurts me more than if his life had also been claimed by those monsters. And I find myself utterly disgusted for thinking such terrible things.

               Again, there’s worry across his face that I can only smile at.

               “Are you certain?” The soft, low gravel in his voice grates at my resolve.

               “I’ll be fine. Enjoy your night, Percy.”

               In the instant my back turns, the smile slips away. With every step, my heart cries to go running back and spill my every misery to him. Had I not come to terms with the fact that he is not the person I once knew, I have no doubt that I would be on my knees, wailing and begging him not to leave me.

               The door to my room closes and the silence is deafening.

               Because I’m a fucking coward.

~~~~~

               Groaning, I pry my face from my pillow. The pain of spilt tears stings at my eyes, but I force them open all the same. Darkness rules the room, the lantern on my bedside table has long since flickered out. Silver moonlight filters through the curtains to give some semblance of bearings.

               Again, the knocking rattles my tranquility, though this time, a voice follows.

               I should let him go—let him think me asleep and wander away for I know I’m at my weakest and Percy deserves so much better than for me to drag us into the past.

               But I’m at my weakest.

               The worn blanket clears my face before I stand. In my stride to the door, I straighten out my appearance. Though rationale yells at me to stop, emotions pull open the door.

               There he stands, surprised, perhaps thinking I wouldn’t answer.

               “What’s wrong?” I hate how broken I sound.

               “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

               “I wouldn’t really call it sleep. Did you need something?”

               The well-dressed man straightens up, as if he’s rehearsed this a dozen times over.

               “Yes actually. I need you to come with me.”

               “Isn’t it late?”

               A smile cracks his lips, cracking at my fractured resilience. “We don’t have bedtimes anymore, do we?”

               My gaze adverts. “I suppose not…”

               “Just trust me.”

               A glove extends to me in offering and I somewhat retreat into my room.

               “Please.”

               Following that arm, my eyes find his face again and, for a moment, I see the boy from my past and there’s nothing I can do to keep from taking his hand. Percy hesitates not even a second in pulling me towards the front door, the warmth of his palm lulling me into acquiescence. My bare feet skim the stone floor, muted by the soft click of his boots. The utter silence of the building cautions the slumber or absence of other callers. Only we—as we creep through the dormant shadows—stir in this silent night.

               Even as my guide draws open the door, I follow without question. No, I only think twice when he steps towards the black steed harnessed to a small carriage. Even so, all I find in my glance is an encouraging smile.

               Gesturing to the uncovered cart, Percy lures me towards the steps. I don’t even have the words to respond, my hypnosis convincing my feet to climb the steps instead. Once I’m comfortably seated, Percival climbs into the driver’s seat and sets out.

               Whitestone, in all its destruction and desecration, rolls by as the carriage wheels creek through deserted streets. Seeing the present whilst remembering the past only brings back the ache I earlier tried to escape. My once proud and thriving home is naught more than a pile of rubble with its citizens scrounging on the edge of starvation. Each passing corner draws me closer to tears. Yet I somehow remain composed, trusting in the man that brought me here.

               There’s not much else he could take from me anyway.

               The excursion eventually leaves that battered city behind, climbing the gentle slopes that used to bring a bustle of travelers from across the realm. Nearing the top of said slope is where the horse’s hooves begin to slow, pulling the cart to the side of the road. The carriage driver dismounts his seat, strolling to the side where he, yet again, offers his assistance.

               “We’re here.”

               Cool grass rustles beneath my toes, soft against unprotected skin. A whisper of a breeze moves the air, careful not to cause unease in this comfortable atmosphere.

               “Where’s ‘here’?” I ask, my voice barely able to break the quiet.

               Percy waves away from the carriage. “Why don’t you see for yourself.”

               It takes my weary soul a moment to sum up the energy to take those few small steps. As I do, the grand ruins of Whitestone revel in the valley below. At its heart, the damage took its toll, but gazing down upon its corpse, the city breaks me. Knees give, bringing to me to the ground, trembling hands trying to contain the grief from pouring out.

               Through the mounting misery, a gentle hand meets my back. “It’s alright.”

               “How can you call this alright?!” My words come out louder, but I can by no means call them strong. “Our home is in ruins! We lost everything!”

               “So that’s what you see.”

               Breath still quivering in my chest, I peer up at Percy. His expression is that of contemplation.

               “I suppose I should have expected as much. When I first returned, that’s all I saw too. Nearly everyone I knew is dead and my home is in shambles. I’d given up hope that Whitestone could ever be prosperous again.” That smile returns ere long. “But the Briarwoods are gone. Those that are still here choose to rebuild and the people are in good hands. From what remains there’s potential. Whitestone can be great again—maybe even better. There’s an entire city down there just waiting to grow anew.”

               Looking back to my home, I consider his words. I can’t say that I’m entirely convinced, though I can no longer see just doomed remains. Some of those sentiments sooth the pain enough for me to clear my eyes.

               “Besides, I wouldn’t say we lost everything.”

               From my back, his hand slips beneath my fingers. His thumb softly strokes against my skin. I’m now unsure whether the hiccup in my chest came from my ebbing sorrow or my heart.

               “We’re here, aren’t we?”

               Percy waits patiently as I gather my words to respond. From his touch, my hand retreat as the rest of me tries its best to hide from him.

               “So much has changed from what I remember. To say that the people we were survived would be inaccurate.”

                “I agree that people change over time, but surely there’s still part of us that always remembers who we were, don't you think?"

               From the corner of my eye, I see Percy reach into his coat. Curiosity gets the better of me. In his palm sits a small ornate box. Silver embellishments flourish across ebony paint, a small silver latch securing the lid. Into my hands, he pushes the trinket. I warily turn the box in my fingers, noting the detail and craftmanship of the item. It appears to be not new but in good condition and not quite perfect. Barely noticeable, a hole in the side blends into the design. Easily, the box opens to show me its secrets. A bundle of mechanical parts is wound together inside yet I understand not its purpose. The metal cylinder is riddled with bumps sitting beside a comb with narrowly spaced teeth while a spring runs the length of the small container.

               Before I can ask, Percy extends his hand again. A silver chain tumbles across his palm, twisting and turning in on itself. At its heart lies a small, silver key. The peculiar charm has no teeth, but a hole at its end and, as I pick it up, I understand.

               Inserting the key into the side of the box, I’m met with some minor resistance. It clicks with each turn until, after a few turns, it moves no further.

               The moment I release the key is the moment the world stops spinning.

               The cylinder turns, those bumps brushing against the metal teeth of the comb with a chime. Each sound on its own is simply senseless noise, but as it continues to turn, it recreates a melody etched deep into my heart. A bright room adorned with golden decorations and luxurious drapes gleams beneath an elegant chandelier. The finest dresses and shoes skim the polished floor in tempo to the orchestra’s magic. People weave together before pushing apart, only to retwine themselves in elegant dance.

               Most importantly, he stands before me. Trauma has yet marred his face, pure innocence left behind that bashful smile. Naivety leads our steps yet allows us to indulge in our blissful youth. We had no fear for we knew none. Our lives were whole. And we were happy.

               “You remembered,” I whisper.

               Percy’s expression holds softer as he too remembers that simple dream. “It was your favorite song. How could I forget?” His gaze wanders the stars above. “You would go about your chores humming that song every day since that dance at my sister’s eighteenth birthday. It was as if you never wanted me to forget.”

               I stare back down at the singing box. “Because I never wanted to forget.”

               “See.” He snares my attention again. “You may not be who you were, but there’s still some semblance of the person I knew in there.”

               Percy stands, pulling me up beside him. Carefully, he takes the box and winds it once again before replacing it in my hand. This time, however, his fingers carefully cradle mine as the box sings its little tune.

               Wistfully, he says, “I can only hope that part of who you saw back then still exists in me.”

               Without warning, Percy pushes me back. I stumble, but the arm at my back keeps me balanced. It occurs to me what he’s doing and the second movement is far smoother. Into memories he leads me, through our childhood and into our teenage years. We spent so much time in each other’s company—in casual conversation, in fervent discussion, sometimes even in silence. It was Percy’s presence that always brought me peace, even now in this new broken existence. And I would dance with him until my last breath if the world would only let me.

               The notes teeter out, the music wheel eventually coming to a stop. Slowly, our feet also cease to move, our reminiscence at an end. Percy’s arms drop and I hold the music box close to my chest.

               “Thank you, Percy. I needed this.”

               It’s hard to see in only the moonlight, but a tint of pink dusts his nose. “Think nothing of it.” He reaches forward, carefully draping the silver chain around my neck. “After all, it only took me five years to finally give it to you.”

               “You got this for me?” A flutter in my chest begins to smolder.

               “Technically, I made it for you.”

               “You made this?”

               “Of course.” At the simple gesture of brushing the hair from my face, Percy ignites those embers. “Because I never wanted you to forget.”

               His touch is careful and soft, as though I might break. However, I need only the smallest sign to lean into his caress. Even the press of his lips to my forehead speaks of his caution, but I see the longing burning in his eyes. For us, it’s been far too long and yet no time at all. Percy is a different person and yet he’s still the same. I suppose not everything has been lost to me.

               Fingers curl around Percy’s coat, my head tilting back. My consent is clear and his head dips a second time. It’s like being blessed with new life, filling my chest with hope I dared not have before this moment. It’s soft and deliberate, meant to relay all we’ve weathered and all we will weather. But this one thing between us will stand through it all.

               Just as it began, it ends though the significance of it all hangs in the air. In his embrace, I soak in his presence. While I have his warmth, however, the night has grown ever late and from my mouth escapes a yawn.

               His voice is reluctant to break our serenity. “We’d best get you back to bed.”

               Rather than answer, I press tighter against him. In response, Percy slips his arms beneath me and whisks me back to the carriage. Sleep nearly takes me in the time it takes to return to our temporary residence. Again, it’s Percy’s strength that returns me to my bed, but it’s mine that keeps him there. I’m not ready for him to leave me again, no matter how short the night may be. He grants me that plea and it’s in his arms that I finally find the shattered pieces of my heart in peace.

[raayllum]

The high mage office becomes a bit of a ramshackle, afterwards.

The first and most obvious reason is that, while spacious, it was only really meant to accommodate one mage and possibly an apprentice at a time—not three mages, piles of books and magical objects stacked ceilings high.

That, and the youngest of their little club has by far more clutter than Kpp'Ar or Viren ever did, the eldest mage thinks.

Callum is quick witted and talks too much, otherwise staying silent for hours, out of studiousness or bother, eyes hard whenever he looks at Viren.

His old apprentice is the most out of place, perhaps. Viren has forsaken dark magic, a path Kpp'Ar never thought possible, especially with what Viren had imprisoned him over. But Viren throws the books of dark arts only sour looks and dour frowns, reluctant to even touch them never mind read them. He and Claudia are alike in that way, Kpp'Ar supposes, seeing how they've grown side by side now as adults. They're no longer dark mages, but they refuse to try their hand at primal magic and arcanums, either.

For Claudia, Kpp'Ar thinks it is a lingering trace of stubbornness and pride. For Viren, it's likely fear—for if he can't connect, then he is shut off from magic forever. And if he can, then all the pain he caused and dark roads he took might've been avoided.

He helps out, mostly, running messages—taking letters to the rookery, labelling bottles, taking the messiness of Callum's notes that Kpp'Ar's eyesight is too poor to make out, and turning them into something coherent. Not unlike the work he'd done when he was an apprentice, if muted and with a hesitance rather than a persistent, desperate hunger.

And for the first time in a very long time, Kpp'Ar is a student.

Not officially, of course. Callum is the only official high mage among the three (or four) of them, and he's never taken on an apprentice before. Nor had he taken Kpp'Ar on when the old man had expressed a desire to learn primal magic—to see the world and his work again anew, with his unexpected second chance.

But you don't become a mage if you aren't observant, and intelligent, and driven, and able to learn at least a little from example. Kpp'Ar needles him about the arcanums he holds, which Callum is more than willing to spout nonsense about to someone, the nonsense gradually making more and more sense. Dark magic is about ingredients, the way machines are about gears and cogs. Primal magic is about connection, and cycles, a bridge, the same way a puzzle serves to be one: one for humans to solve from a Maker, whether that's magic or or the all forsaken All-Mother in Kpp'Ar's mind.

A puzzle he will, with gnarled fingers and a grizzled face, grasp one day with as much certainty as his jewelled cane.

Callum finds him one day, pouring over Earthblood tomes, and raises a brow and a cup of tea to his lips. "Didn't expect to find you in here so early."

"Shows you still have much to learn," Kpp'Ar mutters, turning the page. He squints, the candle growing dim.

Callum snaps and the flame sparks, emitting much more light. Some of his headache clears away. "If you're really set on an arcanum," Callum advises, jerking his head, "maybe think about the Sun."

Healing, vision, light.

Kpp'Ar eyes the candle.

"Perhaps," is all he says, and maybe he still has some pride of his own—he's more than double the boy's own age, after all, even with thirteen years lost to that accursed coin.

But then there are much worst things than taking advice—like taking the wrong advice.

That's another thing their little club has in common, he supposes.