#rook crescent

[caycanteven]

This was a commission piece for @under-art-reblogs with Rook absolutely styling and looking GORGEOUS! Thank you so much again for supporting me and my work! 🥰🫶I always love getting to see this beautiful girl again!

[hellsslibrary]

your twisted wonderland first time stories are so good! is it fine if i request you write about vil, rook, jade, leona, and cater next? i love top male reader stories but its hard to find ones about twisted wonderland :<

-🍤

»—> Vil's, Rook's, Jade's, Leona's and Cater's first time + Azul from another request.

#a.n. : my writer's block and problems in life are finally over and I'm writing again. An amazing sight, but still.

#cw/tw: top!male!reader, bottom!male!character, first time obviously, praise kink, fingering, teasing, and quite a vanilla sex in general, sex toy(Cater), riding(Leona), very little nipple play(Leona), dirty talk(Rook), Rook is a brat just a little.

This is definitely a planned action, simply from the fact that Vil more than knows about sex (I think Eric explained this to him as a child as needed). Therefore, it is at least planned on the part of your yes/no, preferences and the like.

I don’t know why, but it seems to me that it’s important for Vil that your first sex with him be vanilla and romantic. That is, so that this sex is not so much a show of your lust, but of intimacy, your trust in each other.

If you are not a virgin, by the way, you will think that you are a virgin. This guy will guide you as if he knows everything, where, what and why (although he didn’t go beyond jerking off, because he didn’t see the need for it).

But he will still give you control, almost completely, simply because... It’s more convenient for a virgin than to do it all himself.

“Mmm... Yeah, it feels good,” Vil mutters as your fingers poke into that sweet spot and his fingers curl into the sheets. “Please continue... A little slower, yes, like that.”

A quiet moan of pleasure escapes his lips as your fingers slow down ever so slightly, pressing with each slow but rhythmic thrust into him. He sighs shakily, his arms wrapping around your neck as he presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Vil? This..." You whisper, watching as he spreads his legs beneath you invitingly, a smirk blooming on his lips that turns into a smile of pleasure in a matter of seconds. "Too tempting for a virgin."

"In your opinion, I'm always tempting, no? Or do you think I don't notice your glances at my ass?" Vil asks, chuckling and making you laugh too and kiss his lips, in a deeper way, and push your fingers even deeper.

It is clear that the sensations will be strange. But he’s still pleased, and the main thing is that it’s you. And Vil is not one of those who goes back on his word, after all. And if he allowed you to fuck him, then you will do it (if you want, ofc).

Vil simply found some kind of peace in this first act. Slow thrusts, your hands touching his body, which has become like a continuous erogenous zone, your quiet voice whispering praises and compliments to him... It's wonderful.

“Ah, [M-Mc]... It’s so good, don’t stop, I beg you, my love,” Vil whispers, closing his eyes in pleasure, feeling the relaxed, slow tremors inside him; a whine escapes his lips as you lift his hips off the pillow, going deeper.

“So good... You take cock too well, handsome. Although it’s you, what else could I expect,” Your whisper is heard in his ear, and he melts at the sound of your hoarse laugh.

His nails dig into your back, creating crescent-shaped marks. His hips rock in time with your thrusts, meeting them. Moans and whines escaped his slightly reddened lips from the kiss, mixed with the sound of your name... Just perfect.

I'm honestly not sure if this was planned or not. Just from the fact that I can easily imagine something innocent with him developing into something obviously intimate and... I'll leave it up to you.

And you DO NOT need to discuss the main important things before getting into bed. He knows everything about you, which seems strange, especially if you have never even thought about it, but this is Rook... But he will tell you his boundaries and what he loves, yes.

He is absolutely calm before the penetration begins, absolutely. You even begin to think that he lied, that this was his first time. He's too... Stretched for a virgin. (Although let's be honest, I just think he was playing with himself. And I think he's one of the few people who did it with his hole, lol)

He doesn't moan at all before the penetration begins, like AT ALL. Rook just watches your fingers penetrate him with a satisfied smile and red cheeks and tells you all sorts of praise and some phrases that make you swear you want to simultaneously blush and hit him at the same time.

“Mmm... Your fingers are so good, Mon cher, it’s almost unbearably good. If you’re so good with your hands, then I can’t even imagine what it will be like when your dick is inside,” Rook whispers with a half grin, half smile on his face, his palms lie on your chest, drawing some invisible patterns there with his fingers.

A sigh escapes your lips and you lightly slap him on the back of his thigh, causing Rook to twitch slightly but only chuckle at your displeasure showing; his back arches when you make deliberate, harsh contact with his prostate.

“Rook, I ask you, keep quiet... Everything has its time. Have you heard of such a phrase?” You ask a rhetorical question, and a joyful glint appears in his eyes when he realizes that he has angered you just a little.

He's also calm when you finally insert your dick, it's like he's done this all before, seriously. Although moans are already beginning to escape his lips, he still does not stop these dirty conversations, they even intensify.

Although they soon turn into only convulsive declarations of love and praise when he approaches orgasm or this happens after the first orgasm.

"Ahh... You're so deep, it's incredible! Don't stop, please," Rook ululates as his face slams into the pillow again, squeezing it in his grip, causing it to tear pitifully.

“I didn’t plan on stopping, blondie, don’t worry,” He trembles when he hears and feels your whisper right next to his ear.

Your tender kiss behind his ear absolutely does not fit with the rough and rather sharp thrusts, creating a wonderful difference between roughness and tenderness... And damn, he can feel how his dick is getting hard again.

... No, I don't think it was planned, no. But this was not something wild too. It’s just that at some point you smoothly flowed into intimacy when there was the most suitable time and moment for this.

Although you have probably discussed similar topics with him many times before. I just think he's terribly curious when it comes to his partner, plus he probably doesn't have much of an idea of ​​how sex works between someone who has legs.

An absolute mess. He gradually, but quickly enough breaks down under any of your actions, touch, word, even glance. He simply surrenders to these sensations headlong.

"Jade, are you okay? You haven't said a word since my fingers were inside..." A question leaves your lips as you watch Jade try his best to hold back any sounds that escape his lips, and he just nods, "Baby... Give me a verbal answer."

"Y-yes! This—... Th-this is so good, mmhmm... Plea-please don't, agh, st-stop!" Jade groans, barely able to utter the words, causing a chuckle to escape your lips, causing the moray eel’s already red cheeks to turn an even darker shade.

His body trembles, his hands grab at anything just to maintain a little sense of reality. His cheeks are completely red, his teeth are nipping at his bottom lip, his eyes are closed as tears stream down his face... What a charm, right?

You'll probably need to keep his mouth closed somehow when you finally enter him. He will no longer be able to control his moans, and he will moan so damn loudly.

He doesn't even feel discomfort, he just wants all of you. He wants you to go ahead and just fuck him like he deserves.

“Hush, precious, hush. You'll wake everyone up, these aren't soundproof walls after all,” You whisper as Jade's head is thrown back on your shoulder in pleasure, and your fingers are in his mouth, playing with his tongue to muffle him just a little.

Your other hand lowers and lifts his body on your dick, making him twitch and whimper every time. His thoughts are jumbled, if he can think at all right now. Now there is only you, him and your dick, which lies perfectly in him.

No, this is not planned. I think it was completely unplanned. For some reason, I imagine him sending you a repost of some video where there is something sexual and like, “Maybe we can do it too?))”

And if you agree, he is the happiest in the world. He expected that you would not agree and then he would have reduced everything to a joke, but since you agree...

He also probably once tried to finger himself, but he didn’t really succeed, because his fingers didn’t reach what he needed, so he maybe used toys, or didn’t touch his hole for the time being.

"Mmm, are you sure this thing is comfortable, pumpkin? Is everything wonderful?" You ask to make sure he's absolutely fine as he lies on the bed, fascinated by the toy below.

"Y-yes... It feels good, really," Cater whispers, moaning as the toy touches his prostate. It's just a prostate vibrator with a circle of rubber that attaches to the base of the penis... But he swears it's never felt as good as it does now.

An absolute mess when you penetrate him. He's quiet though, I guess. You feel so much better than anything in his life has ever felt. And... A real cock is probably more pleasant to have than rubber, glass or other materials.

And yes, he won't let you go. He will cling to you with all his might, but he will still hold on to you.

“Cater... Calm down, calm down. I’m not going anywhere,” You whisper as his nails run down your back for the hundredth time in these moment, leaving red marks there that will clearly make your tomorrow less rosy.

“So-sorry,” He sobs, wrapping his legs around your waist, practically hanging on you as you continue to thrust in and out of him at a slow pace, “You're just... So h-hot and wet inside... And twitching, too! Weird..."

I think this is more about presenting you with a fact rather than a planned action. He can just lie on your lap in the garden and then say something like “I want to have sex tonight” and start snoring a few seconds later, and you react however you want.

For the first time he is surprisingly active, I think. Really active. Of course, he doesn’t know how to do anything in practice, but if you want him to suck you off or something, he will do it. (And will still do it damn well)

Quiet asf. Just a few growls, maybe very quiet moans, but it’s hard to get him to other sounds. In general, I think that he is not particularly sensitive himself.

“Mmm, come on, herbivore... I'm not glass, damn it,” Leona mutters as you slip your fingers into him a little too slowly for his liking and he sighs contentedly when you speed up a little.

"Sorry, sorry. I just don't want to rush anywhere, okay?" You speak, specifically aiming for his prostate and he just makes some kind of guttural sound reminiscent of agreement.

He will ride you. Yes, you can fight me, I’m ready, but he will do it. Leona wants to control the pace of your first time, so he will do that.

Although, of course, when he gets tired, he’ll just lie on top of your chest and you’ll have to fuck him like that because it’s convenient for him, lmao.

"Ha... Leona, you look incredible when you're on top of me, you know?" You ask, looking at him riding your dick at a slow, but quite sharp pace, while his hands lie on your chest, sometimes squeezing it convulsively in his palms.

“Yeah, I always look incredible actually... But I'm glad you recognized my greatness in a position that no one else saw,” Leona whispers with a smirk, flicking your nipple lightly, chuckling as you twitch inside him, but then it’s his turn to moan as you lift your hips, meeting his bounce halfway.

Yes, considering him, this is planned. He was very nervous, thinking that something would go wrong, so he discussed it with you in advance and of course asked when, after the start of the relationship, you would feel comfortable taking this step.

He is absolutely nervous before starting, even if he has read a lot of educational literature on this topic. He thinks something will go wrong or you won't like something.

He... Something between quiet and loud, yes. The most common moans, whines and sighs. Although, if you overstimulate him or just bring him into some kind of faint state of ecstasy, he will sound like the girls from hentai, I swear.

"Azul... Relax, okay? You're pretty tight even for a virgin," You whisper, squeezing his thigh reassuringly, letting him know that you're here and you're not going anywhere.

He nods, wiping his eyes from the accumulated tears, although it didn't really help, because they almost immediately appeared again. Azul sighs deeply, taking one of his pillows and covering his face halfway as he continues to stare at you.

“Okay, sorry... It's just unusual, I didn't think people walking on two legs felt this way,” Azul mumbles, muffled by the pillow but surprisingly able to keep his voice unwavering, throwing his head back when you touch his G-spot.

The absolute prince of pillows, at least the first few times. It's not that he wouldn't want to do something. He's just embarrassed and has no idea what to do.

Definitely a very kisser. Firstly, to muffle his moans, which make him ashamed. And secondly, it seems to me that he has a sensitive mouth and tongue... And his throat too, if you have a long tongue.

Azul meets your lips with his own again as he lies on his back, his legs twitching on your shoulders from the thrusts inside him. His tongue slides awkwardly against you as you run the wet muscle over his teeth for the hundredth time that evening and then pull away.

“You're so cute, Azul... I had no idea you'd be so clingy,” He blushes when he hears you whisper against his ear and squeezes his eyes shut when you lick the shell of his ear.

“It’s not true, love... Don’t tease me,” Azul mutters, covering his face with his hands, although he immediately leans forward when you kiss him again.

[moonlit-midnight]

TWST Imagines: He sings of love when he laughs

Characters: Second years and Third years.

Summary: The sound of his laughter is the melody of your heart.

Warnings: GN!Reader, based on a dream I had about the 2nd and 3rd years, written for the sake of entertainment.

—

He laughs easily, brightly, gleefully, like a burst of fluttering flower petals on a beautiful spring day. He catches for big breaths when he laughs too hard. His laughter continues when the joke you told him is already over, and he will still be laughing when he leaves the room.

When you laugh along with him, you breathe with ease and everything feels better.

Cater, Ruggie, Floyd, Rook, Lilia

He laughs sweetly, a sound so serene and soothing like the gentle sunlight in the morning. His eyes turn into the prettiest pair of crescent moons when he gets carried away as though the wonders of your funny stories fascinate his mind and soul.

The sound of his laughter is a blessing from the heavens. Hearing it light up the cities in your heart.

Riddle, Trey, Jade, Kalim, Vil, Silver

He doesn’t laugh freely, but when you’re close by, he lets you revel in the entrancing sound of his booming, deep laughter. He has the kind of glorious laugh that puts you in a dreamy state, and you miss it dearly the moment it fades into the distance. 

His laugh is the song you love best in the world. It’s like a melody that’s been missing all your life.

Leona, Azul, Jamil, Idia, Malleus 

[felassan]

Some snippets from a couple older articles I don't remember seeing or catching[?] before:

"at its core is a beautifully told story of revenge, regret, and the complexities of good and evil" [source]

Varric's familiar wit and charm is very much present [source]

Excerpt on the opening:

"the story just sort of jumps right into things under the assumption you've got some understanding of where things left off in Inquisition. Solas, the Dreadwolf, is already conducting a menacing ritual to dismantle the Veil in the heart of the Tevinter Imperium's capital city, and Varric has assembled a crew to try to stop him. The demonstration began with a player choice, wherein Rook - our extremely customizable hero (more on that later) - gets to choose between fighting an entire bar or attempting to negotiate his way into more peaceful circumstances. Naturally, the demoist chose to beat everyone up in a bit of Dungeons & Dragons-esque tavern fun, complete with Varric pinning the shady bartender to her own station with a well placed crossbow bolt for some interrogation. As Rook and Varric scrounge the city for clues and meet up with a few more teammates en route to stopping Solas' big scary plan, they engage in some back and forth that feels like a mix of cheesy RPG dialogue and the characterization that makes Dragon Age such a great iteration of its genre." [...] "During the demo, Rook and crew engaged several enemies on their way to stop Solas. Battle sometimes began through a cinematic and sometimes by simply approaching an enemy on the map." [source]

"As the environment gets destroyed or decayed and action spills out into the streets, the rendering of each brick and light source helps add to a high fantasy feel." [source]

On the slider for body type selection: "It looked incredibly easy to maneuver around and create a body that is either close to that player's real personage or their ideal fantasy self" [source]

Party members closest to Rook are the most useful and lethal in battle [source]

On combat: it "has an improved version of [the DA2] battle system that combines the tactical pauses of Dragon Age's deep strategy with a more fluid, eye-catching approach to action that can create gorgeous visuals at times" [source]

"the string of attacks possible while playing Rook made the combat seem quite dynamic on a base level" [source]

"Our presenter said that each specialization was pretty much as deep as a job" ((job - class)) [source]

"Thedas is more beautiful than ever in the hour I spent with Veilguard" [source]

"I can assure you that the weird, hero-shooter tone of that companion reveal trailer doesn't carry into the game itself. No sir, Dragon Age: The Veilguard (née Dreadwolf) doesn't have much time for japes at all. Things are grim. Dark. Fraught, even" [source]

"sliding a cursor across a triangle that can make your character stocky and chubby or tall and muscular or anything in between" [source]

"BioWare seems to have resisted the Mass Effect: Andromeda proclivity for gratingly quippy dialogue in this one, at least. Varric makes some jokes, sure, but people spoke mostly like (dramatic, fantasy) people in my time in Minrathous" [source]

Minrathous: "the dark heart of a dystopian magical empire, its skyline dominated by a magically suspended palace in the shape of a saw-toothed crescent" [source]

Enemy barriers and armors can be whittled down more quickly by "nailing a shot to a vital part with your bow, if you've got one" [source]

[bones4thecats]

Can I please ask for a malleus and Floyd and riddle with kianna komori

But how are they react to walking in on her having a mental breakdown

By the way I did some adjustments to her character so I would appreciate it if you read it I hope any info that's on my page will be useful to you

When Their S/O Has A Mental Breakdown

Type of Writing: Request Name: When Their S/O Has a Mental Breakdown Characters: Malleus Draconia, Floyd Leech, and Riddle Rosehearts Requester: @nunezs-stuff

A/N: I've been asked who this 'Kianna' is, if you want to gain more info on her, go to the requester's account. There you can read many bits of information on this OC. But, for now, the reason behind the mental breakdown in ambiguous. By the way, the reader is in the character's year and is a separate person from Yuu.

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🐉 He never tried prying into your past, he and you had established that when you first met; neither of you would pry into each other's history

🐉 Malleus never had an issue with this agreement until today

🐉 While waiting for you so you guys could walk to class today, and when you never showed a sign of showing up, he had gone to your dorm-head, Vil Schoenheit

🐉 Vil only shrugged his shoulders and said that he and Rook had been trying to coax you out of your room for hours, only to be given the cold shoulder, or in other words, no answer

🐉 This only worried your boyfriend farther, and he had decided to try getting an answer out of you when he tried knocking on the door

" Dearest, are you alright in there? "

🐉 Malleus only gained silence pouring through his ears, alarming him. You had always answered him when he arrived at your door

🐉 Looking back at the Housewarden and Vice-Housewarden of Pomefiore, they could see how much confusion and fear was filling the Prince's eyes, sending alarms through their bodies

" Roi des Dragons, maybe they just need some time to their-self. They did seem tired last night. " " Rook is right. Y/N had come to dinner fairly pale and they were nearly asleep at the table, but it seemed something was keeping their eyes pried open. In the past three years of being alongside them, I have never seen them so tired and scared before... it was fairly alarming... "

🐉 Malleus sighed and waved for the two to leave the area, knowing the must have some kind of work to attend too. And once they left his ear-shot, he gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists

🐉 He could feel his nails digging into his palm, causing small crescents of red to build underneath, but that was not what was hurting him at the moment; you ignoring him hurt far more

" Y/N, I am coming inside. "

🐉 Opening the door, Malleus was caught off guard to see you sitting on the ground wrapped in a blanket, swaying back and forth while staring at a photograph that laid on the ground

🐉 Your boyfriend looked at the photo and back at you, making the connection quite fast. These must be people who had hurt you in the past... how dare they...

🐉 Hearing your shaky breaths, he focused his attention back to you, you were his main priority at the moment, not those balls of scum

" My love, I am right here. Don't worry. Are you alright? "

🐉 Once his arms made their way around you, you had dug yourself into his body, tears meeting his neck as your burrowed your face into the softer flesh

" Malleus- I- oh Great Seven... "

🐉 He shushed you as you wept. He may not be super good at this, but he did help raise Silver with Lilia, he understands how to comfort someone to a decent level

🐉 While he does want to know what those people had done, for now he can leave it behind in favor of comforting you

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🎭 Floyd is not the best when it comes to handling other people's emotions, and both of you understood that. He is aware of his mood swings to an extent, and you weren't very expressive most of the time, so it was a decent turnout

🎭 Your boyfriend and you landed on a middle-ground of sorts, you wouldn't pry into his emotions if he didn't pry in on yours

🎭 And for quite a while, you guys stayed on that piece of land very strongly, though, everything is bound to have a pitfall of sorts. Whether the fallen come back up and continue their path is unknown

🎭 And this was quite the pitfall

🎭 Floyd and you were just messing around together on the grounds, screwing with other people's minds by using his creepy smile and your stone-cold glare, but, when you didn't come back from your 'bathroom break', he got worried

🎭 Walking throughout the school, every student in his way stood off to the side, as they didn't want to be beaten by an angry eel

🎭 As he walked around, he called your name over and over. And, unlike many, you had no nickname related to sea-creatures, he had respect for you as his S/O, so no nickname was used after he and you sealed the deal

🎭 Now, back to the point;

🎭 Once Floyd came upon his brother and childhood friend, he had asked them where you were, only to be met by their fingers pointing to the door in front of them; your room

" Y/N-dear, please let us in... we just want to know what is the matter. " " P-please go, Azul. " " Y/N! Please let me in! Come on, it's Floydie, your eel boyfriend! Come on! "

🎭 Azul and Jade looked at one another and nodded before leaving you and Floyd alone, they knew you needed space, but they weren't gonna try angering Floyd in the progress

🎭 As time passed, Floyd gained impatient, why were you not opening the door for him?!

🎭 Eventually, your boyfriend announced he was coming in whether you liked it or not, and he began to break through the lock (willing to bet he knows some skill like that)

🎭 Once his mismatched eyes landed on your shaking form, Floyd's mood dampened. He then walked up to you and hugged you, he understood that you were having a mental breakdown, Azul had quite a few of these growing up

" Y/N... Honey... Hey, hey, I'm right here with ya', take some long breaths okay? Here, I'll do them with you! Breath in- breath out, yeah- just like that! "

🎭 Floyd continued to hold you after you calmed down, wondering what could have set you off like that. Whatever or whoever did better look out, they now have a psychotic mer-eel after them, and he doesn't give up easily

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❤️ Did someone ask for the mental-breakdown expert?

❤️ Riddle and you, much like in the previous sets, have boundaries. He is very private when it comes to his home-life, with the rare few knowing about his mother

❤️ And while you and him have spoken about both your pasts once or twice, he finds himself drawing a blank when discussing himself and you, it just feels weird sharing his emotions with another being that wasn't someone he's known ever since childhood

❤️ Though, that doesn't make your relationship rocky, just somewhat rough around the edges, like Leona!

❤️ Ever since the fourth attempt to talk about your home-lives, Riddle had been busy with Housewarden duties, from getting the rose fully painted to having Un-Birthday Parties to celebrate, his schedule has been jammed-packed

❤️ But, once he reached some free-time, he had immediately messaged you, asking if you yourself was free, as he knew how ruthless Vil could be with his 'schedules' himself

❤️ As he waited seconds, minutes, and eventually a half-hour, Riddle began to wonder why you hadn't answered. He knew for a fact that Vil wouldn't have such a good member of his dorm like you busy for that long

❤️ So, after asking Cater and Trey to watch the dorm like hawks as he took care of an errand, he set his sights on the Mirror Chamber, and eventually Pomefiore's mirror

❤️ Walking through the halls, he found Vil and asked where you had been, only to receive the answer that you had requested to go to bed early, much to your superior's confusion

❤️ Riddle thanked his upper-classman before he left and went to your room. And once he reached the door, he sighed and straightened his clothing, one must not have such a messy outfit

" My Rose, are you alright in there? Vil said that you had gone to bed early, is that true? "

❤️ Hearing no reply, Riddle gained more nervousness than before

" Ah, Roi des Roses! Are you having a hard time getting into your dearest's room? Here, a key! Have a nice chat! "

❤️ Looking down at the key that Rook left in his gloved hand, Riddle groaned, that hunter really knew how to scare someone at their most oblivious, huh?

❤️ Unlocking the door and announcing his entrance, Riddle walked inside, pocketing the small apple-shaped key as he looked around for you, only to see a small form curled into a rose-pattered blanket

" Rose...? Oh sweet mercy... are you alright, dearest? " " Riddle- I- ... oh lord... "

❤️ He flinched slightly as you clung to his jacket, tears cascading out of your eyes as you cried, holding one of the few people you cared for tightly, your grip tightening with every second

❤️ Hushing you and helping you take deep breaths, Riddle pulled out his phone and messaged his Vice-Housewarden, claiming he would not be returning for the night, saying that you needed someone with you at the moment

❤️ Powering off the device and setting it aside, your boyfriend hugged you just as tight, he knew if he was in your situation he would want to be aware that he was cared for... and by the Queen of Hearts, if he could, he would take this pain away

❤️ But, for now, he's content with holding you to his chest as you slept off this pain... if you woke happily in his arms, it would all be worth it

[popponn]

birthday and eel. (jade x reader)

“Happy birthday, Prefect,” Jade Leech said with a smile, his eyes closed in a crescent shape and in his hand a box was held. No matter how one saw it, he is fucking suspicious.

“…please bury me on a beautiful place, okay,” you sighed as your eyes landed on box, wondering if the inside was a bomb or a poison or maybe a straight up sea monster, because at this point who could guess when it came to this one senior of yours. He is insane, and quoting Floyd, “the scarier one”.

In the background, Grim screamed something about tuna cans as Ace and Deuce probably had started praying for you. You couldn’t hear them over the flashing flashbacks inside your head. You suppose your life was pretty nice.

As if he was ignorant to all your dilemmas, which you were sure he was not, Jade laughed out a sweet sound. Was it another person who you had not fight in front of a sea museum, you would had thought it was adorable. But this was Jade Leech, so you just wanted it to end faster at this point.

“I would never do that to you, Prefect,” Jade explained as he took a step closer to you. You wonder if you could try to book it now from the hallway to the Ramshackle dorm—before immediately realizing that you would only die painfully in the process.

“Really?” you asked, monotone and close to giving up, “I really think when it came to you, you will just say something about poetic death day on my birthday or something.”

“Fu fu, rest assured, I’m not Rook-san,” Jade chuckled, and you silently agreed with his statement, “Not to say, it would be a poor decision on my part to kill Azul’s object of affection and Floyd’s favorite company.”

From your back, you heard Deuce chocking on air. Rest in Peace, mabu.

“Azul-san will kill you if you said that, you know, if that’s even true,” you replied. Faintly, you could hear Grim asking Ace and Deuce what did Jade mean in a way a kid asked their parent about babies and where they came from. Good luck, Ace, Deuce.

Meanwhile, on Jade’s part, he merely let out another light chortles as he stopped on front of you. At least he was entertained, hopefully that pending your death if even for a minute.

“And also, I thought Ace is Floyd’s current favorite chew toy,” you continued, completely ignoring Ace’s squawk.

“Why,” Jade played a mockery of a disappointment, “How could you think that I jest, when I’m always serious when it came to you.”

Great Seven, you wanted to snort at that. But you also wanted to live a bit longer so you swallow it. You will just retell it to Leona later and make him snort hell and back. If you came out of this alive, though.

“Well, then, if you are truthful, why can I not see the two of them here? Afterall, I am the crush and the favorite, yet I’m seeing you instead who think of me as a boring nobody,” you huffed, challenging fate.

“Ah, are you still mad about that statement of mine?” Jade asked in a sad tone, smile unmoving, “As I said, you are now very interesting in my eyes, and I think this will continue for a quite long, long time.”

You tried to hide a shiver at that. You wanted to ask why he said ‘long’ in that tone, but instead you tried to smile politely, “Is that so? Does that mean right now Jade-senpai is the one who loves me the most?”

The three of your friends screamed something. Your self preservation also screamed something. Your regret too, but nonetheless, it was too late.

Jade’s expression immediately shifted into one of surprise. His lips for parted for a moment, as if he was at lost of words whilst a red hue creeped to his cheeks. On Benevolent Witch, you really hope your death will be painless.

Time froze for a moment, before it broke as Jade reached out for you with one of his hands and you were immediately pulled by the three of your friends.

“Prefect, get behind me!”

“Geez, can you not try to die for one day?!”

“Funnaa—the-the Great Grim won’t let you land a finger on my hench—e….eh?”

The panic on your friends’ face immediately ceased as it turned out that the hand that they thought was about to grasp—or choke—you was withdrawn and landed on Jade’s own face. He covered the lower part of his face, yet it was clear that he was embarrassed. You wanted to ask what happened, but Ace didn’t waste a moment to step on your foot as hard as he could.

You bit your lips, silently vowing revenge, but you pushed through, “Jade-senpai…?”

Your voice seems to take Jade back to the reality, he blinked several times before finally meeting your eyes again. His expression was instantly schooled into one of his nonchalant smile, even if a red coloring still remained on his ears, “Excuse me, it seems you have taken me off guard once again. Well, as we have talked long enough in the middle of hallway, I better wrap this up before Riddle-san came and scold all of us.”

Out of pure reflex and probably ingrained trauma, the two Heartslabyul dorm students let out a graceless sound. One that Vil would rate 2 out of 100. Yet, ignoring them, Jade once again brought himself closer to you and pushed the box unto your hand.

“…what is this?” you finally asked the box finally landed in your hands.

“A set of clothes that I think would suit you wonderfully,” Jade said, as if he didn’t just part Ace, Deuce, and Grim like a spoon in the middle of a shallow river, “While I think they are casual enough to wear on a daily basis, they are also very suitable to wear on a hiking trip.”

“Oh.” Why is that not surprising at all?

Jade yet again laughed as he ended his explanation, “Fu fu, I hope to see you soon on a mountain, Prefect. Don’t worry, I will gladly accompany you on one, even.”

Cheekily, you tried to try your destiny again, “Is that you asking me on a date, Senpai~?”

This time, Jade’s eyes remained on you as he smiled, unmoving, “If you wished it to be so, then I will happily comply.”

You awkwardly laughed as you averted your eyes elsewhere. Now he made it sounded like you were the one asking him out.

“Then, see you, Prefect,” Jade said, as he leaned down. You nearly took a step back, wasn’t it for the hands that appeared on your shoulder—his hands, gloved yet still oddly cold—stopping you and silencing the whole world for you. A breath and a whisper landed on your ear, “Have a happy birthday. Please do keep me entertained for this year too, understood?”

And a moment later, he was gone as you landed on the floor, losing every strength in your legs.

“Prefect, what the was that?! Also, breath! Breath! Blink!”

“Henchman, did he do something to you?! You haven’t moved for five minutes you know!”

“…..Prefect…..are the two of you…” Ace trailed off, eyeing you and the other two who were fussing over you on the floor, “……hitting it off….?”

As Deuce shouted, you fainted.

[svt-luna]

╰ ᥫ᭡. ⋆· ˚ ༘ * SEVENTEEN LUNA FILES

Bae Jiyeon ❨ 배지연; born January 30, 1997 ❩ known mononymously as Luna, is a Korean-English singer. Born and raised in Kensington, London, United Kingdom. Luna lived in the United Kingdom for fourteen years before returning to South Korea in 2011. She is a member of the South Korean co-ed band SEVENTEEN and its fixed sub-group the Vocal Team.

╰ ౨ৎ BASICS

Birth Name: Bae Ji-Yeon ❨ 배지연 ❩

English Name: Luna Bae

Stage Name: Luna

Birthdate: January 30, 1997

Birthplace: Kensington, London, United Kingdom

Nationality: Korean-English

Ethnicity: Korean

Spoken Languages: Korean ❨ fluent ❩, English ❨ fluent + English accent ❩, Japanese ❨ intermediate ❩

╰ ౨ৎ ARCHETYPES

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Chinese Zodiac Sign: Ox

MBTI: INTJ

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Godly Parent: Hades

╰ ౨ৎ PHYSICAL

Height: 169cm ❨ 5’6" ❩

Weight: 43kg ❨ 94lbs ❩

Blood Type: O+

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Brown

Body Modifications:

Piercings: Lobe ❨ 3 on each ear ❩, Conch ❨ right ear ❩, Helix ❨ 2 on each ear ❩, Flat ❨ left ear ❩, Tragus ❨ both ears ❩, Rook ❨ both ear ❩, Daith ❨ right ear ❩, Forward Helix ❨ right ear ❩, and Belly button piercing

Tattoos: The number 17 ❨ side of right wrist — dedicated to the band ❩, Crescent moon ❨ side of left wrist — dedicated to her name ‘Luna’ ❩, The letter J in cursive ❨ inside her left ring finger — her initial from her name ‘Jiyeon’ but some fans theorize it’s for ‘Jeonghan’ ❩, A ribbon/bow ❨ on the back of her right hand — her trademark love for ribbons and bows ❩, ‘Lady of the Moon’ calligraphy ❨ by her right rib cage — a nod to her name once more ❩, ‘eventually’ calligraphy ❨ inside her right middle finger — just like she said, “Eventually everything that is for me will come.” ❩, and ‘lovebug’ calligraphy ❨ on the back of her neck — the nickname her grandparents had given her ❩

Unique Features: Dimple on right cheek, piercing siren eyes ❨ cat-eye/ foxy shaped ❩, beauty mark on right cheekbone and left cheek, smirk smile

Medical Conditions: Anemic and has a former collarbone fracture caused after falling during a ballet routine when she was 10 years old

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA CLAIMS

Face Claim: Jang Wonyoung ❨ IVE ❩

Singing Voice: IU

Speaking Voice: Jang Wonyoung ❨ has a naturally deep voice when she speaks, however gets higher when she whines and unironically and unknowingly does aegyo ❩

Dance Style: Momo ❨ TWICE ❩ — SEVENTEEN performances, Kazuha ❨ LE SSERAFIM ❩ — Ballet performances

╰ ౨ৎ PERSONALITY

MBTI: INTJ ❨ The Architect ❩

Personality Traits: As an INTJ, often referred to as ‘The Architect’, Luna embodies a unique blend of intelligence, strategic thinking, and an independent spirit. Her personality reflects a deep understanding of the world around her, often viewing situations through a logical and analytical lens. This makes her an exceptional problem-solver, able to assess challenges and devise effective solutions with ease.

Growing up in Kensington, London, Luna was immersed in a world of creativity and intellect. As an only child of a retired ballerina and an anthropologist, she was exposed to the arts and sciences from a young age. Her mother encouraged her to pursue ballet, starting lessons at the age of three. This early training not only honed her physical abilities but also instilled in her a sense of discipline and dedication. However, Luna often felt the pressure to excel, which led to her developing a strong work ethic and perfectionist tendencies.

Despite her outward confidence, Luna struggled with feelings of isolation. Her intimidating features and talent sometimes made it hard for her to connect with her peers, leading her to seek solace in books, art, and music. These experiences nurtured her introspective side, allowing her to develop a rich inner world filled with creativity and imagination.

During her training period, Luna’s INTJ traits truly shone. Her analytical mind enabled her to quickly grasp complex choreography and vocal techniques, allowing her to excel in evaluations. She was often dubbed the ‘Ace’ among her fellow trainees for her versatility and ability to adapt to various tasks effortlessly. However, this did not come without challenges; she faced moments of great pressure to live up to the title and of self-doubt, particularly in a competitive environment where she felt the weight of expectations.

Luna’s leadership qualities emerged during her training, as she often took the initiative to help fellow trainees improve. Her strategic mindset allowed her to navigate the often chaotic training schedule, and she quickly learned to manipulate situations to her advantage, especially during group activities or evaluations. While she maintained a somewhat aloof demeanor, her ability to connect with her peers through shared interests— such as crafts with Joshua or dance challenges with Hoshi— showed her capacity for forming meaningful relationships.

Now as a world known idol, Luna’s INTJ personality manifests in her strong presence and charisma on stage. She is known for her meticulous approach to performances, carefully analyzing each aspect of her shows to ensure they are executed flawlessly. Her strategic thinking allows her to anticipate audience reactions, making her a master at captivating crowds.

Luna’s intelligence also extends to her interactions with fans and the media. She navigates interviews and public appearances with ease, often using her wit and charm to leave a lasting impression. However, she remains somewhat guarded, finding it challenging to open up fully about her feelings, particularly in the context of her somewhat complicated relationship with Jeonghan.

While she is often seen as intimidating due to her ‘resting bitch face’, those who take the time to know her discover her warmth and loyalty. She is protective of her fellow members, particularly the youngest ones, and values the deep connections she has formed within the group. Luna’s ability to balance her independent spirit with her caring nature makes her a unique and multi-faceted character in the K-Pop industry.

Positive Traits: Independent, disciplined, versatile, charismatic, protective, strategic, analytical, ambitious, intelligent, loyal

Negative Traits: Perfectionist, aloof, stubborn, overly critical, reserved

╰ ౨ৎ HISTORY

1997-2011: Luna was born in Kensington, London, into a well-off family that nurtured her artistic inclinations. Her mother, a retired ballerina, introduced her to the world of dance, leading Luna to begin ballet training at the tender age of three. This early exposure fostered her love for performing arts and instilled a strong work ethic in her. Academically gifted, she attended Southbank International School Kensington, where she excelled in her studies and developed a deep passion for music. Despite her wonderful childhood, Luna often felt isolated due to her personality, seeking solace in her artistic pursuits and immersing herself in the creativity that surrounded her.

2011-2012: At the age of fourteen, Luna made the pivotal decision to move back to Seoul, South Korea, to pursue her dream of becoming an idol. This transition marked a significant change in her life, as she entered the competitive world of K-Pop. She initially trained at YG Entertainment for a year, where she faced the rigors of idol training and learned to adapt to the intense environment. Throughout this time, she was constantly approached by PLEDIS Entertainment, a smaller company that offered her a chance to further her dreams. After much consideration, Luna trusted her instincts and made the bold decision to switch companies, believing it would ultimately lead her closer to her goals. She has mentioned in an interview that her leaving a huge and well known company for a smaller one was one of the riskiest thing she has ever done and yet she does not regret it.

2013-2015: Luna trained for another two years at PLEDIS Entertainment, honing her skills as a lead vocalist in preparation for her debut. During this time, she faced various challenges, including rigorous practice schedules and the pressure to excel among her peers. However, her determination and talent shone through, allowing her to form strong bonds with the other trainees. She was supposed to either debut in a girl group or as a solo artist, however, in 2015, Luna finally achieved her dream of debuting as a member of the co-ed band SEVENTEEN, alongside thirteen talented male members. This milestone marked the beginning of her journey in the spotlight, showcasing her versatility and dedication as an artist.

2015-Present: Since her debut, Luna's life as an idol has been a rollercoaster ride filled with both challenges and triumphs. She has navigated the ups and downs of the entertainment industry, facing public scrutiny and the pressures of fame. Despite these obstacles, the joy of being with her fellow members, whom she considers family, has been a constant source of strength. Together, they have achieved remarkable success, creating unforgettable memories and sharing their passion for music with fans worldwide. Luna's perseverance and commitment to her craft continue to drive her as she embraces the journey of an idol, always striving to achieve her goals and dreams.

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3

[bonesofapoet]

delicate [ lucanis dellamorte x rook ] author's note: the one where rook has the world on their shoulders and lucanis offers to help them carry it. explicit language word count: 1013

It was a strange thing, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. You don't even remember when it draped itself all cold and snug across your silhouette, or when it decided it was here to stay. This was a burden you never expected to hold, to carry with you during each passing moment, with every grounding inhale and exhale you took. It wasn't a welcome thing, these days; it had become so, so heavy, yet it was not something so easily discarded. Not even for a moment of blessed peace.

On the sleepless nights, a fire usually crackles and dances until it wears itself down to embers in the ashes, glowing soft and cozy as the moons begin to set in the sky. You would busy yourself with everything and nothing at all, to pass the time.

This night, however, seemed different. Felt different. You've let the hearth remain dark and cold, favoring the soft amber glow of candlelight instead. They chase away reaching shadows the crescent moon cannot touch. The comfort of a clay mug warms your fingers, curls of steam swirling off into the night. You've made yourself comfy in your favorite window to watch the landscape beyond, brightening by the gradual ascension of the moons.

And then you hear it. Soft footfalls. Faint, even in the blissful silence of an hour so late. They cease, hesitant outside the closed door, only to shift after a moment. The figure continues to linger, linger, linger until finally, a knock echoes through the wood.

You're unsurprised to find Lucanis standing on the other side.

"Can't sleep?" he says, hand curved around the door when he eases it open.

"Fast asleep, actually."

He huffs a laugh from where he stands. "Funny."

"According to you, I'm always funny." the barb is said with curved lips and a gesture to the chair nearby when he can't decide how to answer.

He's grateful for the offer, how you let his silence slip through the cracks. It's ridiculous, he thinks. He's a Crow for fuck's sake. Seduction, charm - it was literally part of his training; yet when it comes to you - well. Lucanis is absolutely delighted you don't twist the knife in his pride like Harding has started doing. Mercilessly, may he add.

He settles into the chair and pretends he can't feel you watching his every breath, his every shift until he's comfortable. When he looks at you again, he can see it almost instantly: the toll of what your lives have become. How you've grown and faltered, how you've shined and how you've crashed and burned. It's there, all of it, weaving it's way into your body language, your features, captivating as they are. And, of course - of course. He sees the way you catch him reading you, only to turn quickly back to the window, then to the contents of what remains in your mug.

That's what tipped him off, hearing you in the kitchen.

Silence, once again, nestles itself into the space, a warm blanket draped with care over the heaviness of a night bearing nothing but memory. It's something you've grown accustomed to, this comfortable stillness filling up the atmosphere when you and Lucanis are alone like this. It's nice. Reassuring, even. Like a little pocket held out of time and space, curated solely for both of you to catch your breath.

It's becoming something familiar, something Lucanis maybe even relies on, if only a little bit, when he remembers the crushing weight that he too, carries within him. This could be dangerous, he knows, whatever is blooming slow and soft and true between you, yet he's surprised to realize he doesn't much care.

He watches you swirl the dregs of your cup, curling steam no longer framing the divine contours of your face. His fingers grip the wood of the chair tight enough that it bites into calloused palms. He needs - well, to be honest, he needs a fucking minute, actually, or he's going to jump out of his fucking skin.

A fucking Crow - more like an embarrassment.

Naturally, it takes him little time to see an opportunity before he simply takes it.

"Let me get you another," he nods to the mug, resting loose in your grip, now that it's drained dry. "You stay where you are. Embrace the quiet while you can."

"I - it's -" You realize too late how you were never able to successfully lie to Lucanis. You had allowed him to learn you, and learn you well. An agreement stumbles through your lips instead. The cup is raised in surrender, with no thought to hide the exhaustion coating your voice with its poisoned tongue. "Thank you. Oh, and I made -"

"I know." He says, pausing when his fingers slide over yours to cradle the pottery. Your eyes meet, and neither of you move from the warmth, or the thrill of comfort that such a small touch brings you both.

And then, quick as it was cast, the spell shatters.

You melt into a teasing grin, still holding the attention of those lovely amber eyes. He doesn't seem to notice you're covering the frantic beating of your heart.

"Ah, so the Prince of Crows knows my drink order, does he? I am someone important after all."

Lucanis rolls his eyes and snatches the cup away. His turn is quick, not to hide his smirk, but the heat rising in his cheeks and nestling in his heart. What he can't hide, however, is the smooth rumble of laughter as he crosses the room. He lingers once more at the threshold, head angled toward your place in the window. He's unsure he should speak of it, but he decides he must, if right now, he cant offer you anything more.

His quiet words, when they reach you, are both a balm on your aching heart and a swift punch to the gut all the same.

"This is something we carry together, you know. Lean on us, Rook. Anytime you need."

Then the shadows of the hallway swallow him whole.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hiii my favourite Aemond writer!!Can we get some femdom for Aemond with praise kink and him begging to cum inside? 👀👀

Hi my favourite anon! You got it!

Just a quick note to add I have seven other requests in my asks currently and my turnaround time is around 2-4 weeks - if I haven't responded to your request yet, it means I am working on it.

Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~950

"So it is settled." Aemond decides, as he sits at the head of the long table in the Red Keep's council chambers. "Criston and I will gather an army and we will march against Daemon at Harrenhal."

Murmurs of agreement echo around him. 

When Aegon had become grievously injured during the battle at Rook's Rest, Aemond had taken over as Prince Regent in his stead, taking up the mantle of Protector of the Realm. As such, he had also asummed responsibility of making battle plans to defend his brother's claim to the throne against his half sister and uncle.

He has gathered the Small Council here today to discuss their next strategy of attack and all are now in mutual understanding of what needs to happen next.

"Criston, I trust you are able to make the necessary arrangements? We depart in three days. If there is nothing more to discuss then you are all free to go."

Criston nods in assent, standing and filing out of the room with the others, leaving Aemond sitting alone.

It is but a few moments later that she appears in the doorway and he visibly relaxes at the sight of her, his posture immediately becoming less rigid as she sweeps into the room. Her skirts flow elegantly behind her as she approaches him, never breaking eye contact.

His eye flutters closed, leaning into the warmth of her palm as she reaches out a hand to caress his cheek.

"You did so well today." She purrs. "Such a good boy."

He shivers at her praise, staring up at her, his pupil blown wide with lust. His hands reach needily for her, grasping at her hips.

"Have you had enough of playing fearless leader for today?" She simpers. "Need me to make it all better?"

Aemond swallows thickly, nodding his head. "Please." He whispers, pushing his chair back and allowing space for her to straddle his lap.

She sits astride him, her head bowing slightly under the weight of the iron and ruby crown as Aemond lifts it carefully from his own head to place upon hers.

"My Queen." He breathes, lips parted as he stares up at her with pure, unadultered adoration.

Her fingers trail playfully over the lacings of his breeches, smirking when she feels him straining against them. "My, my." She teases. "Who is this for?"

"You, only you." He grits out, struggling to control his breathing as her hand ghosts over his hardened length through his trousers. "Please..."

"Please, what?" She cocks her head. "Use your words."

"Please touch me." Aemond whimpers, bucking against her hand.

"I am touching you, silly boy." 

"I need more." He practically whines.

She shows mercy, freeing his erection and languidly running her hand up and down its thick length. "Like this?"

He screws his eye shut, the tendons in his neck straining under the effort to keep his composure. "Let me inside you. Please, my Queen."

She releases her hold of him, rucking her skirts up above her hips, revealing her bare cunt to him, already glistening with slick. "In here?"

He inhales sharply, a fresh wave of arousal causing his cock to ache painfully as he realises she's not wearing any small clothes. He reaches out to touch her, but his actions are halted as she grabs his wrist.

"Ah, ah, ah!" She chides. "You mustn't touch without permission."

He flexes his fingers before dropping his hand back to the arm of the chair. "Forgive me, my Queen. Please, please let me inside."

She giggles, it is a dulcet, playful sound. "Well, I suppose since you asked so nicely..."

She grasps his member once more, positioning it at her entrance and sinking down slowly.

Aemond's jaw goes slack as he feels her tight, wet heat envelope him. His nails dig crescent moons into the wooden arms of the chair.

As soon as he is fully sheathed inside of her, his fingertips reach up towards the top of her bodice, right eye flickering to hers. "May I? Please?"

"Take what you need." She says softly, her hand stroking through his silken strands of silver hair.

He tugs down the garment, freeing her breasts and immediately taking the taut peak of one greedily into his mouth.

She begins to rock her hips against his, feeling him groan around her as he slides in and out of her. Lewd wet sounds echo off of the vaulted ceiling, mingled with breathy gasps and moans as she bounces in his lap, fingers still tangled within his hair.

He releases her breast with a wet popping sound, quickly focusing his attention on the other. He can tell from the white hot sparks that lick at his stones and lower back that he will not last. His prick is already starting to pulsate.

"I need release." He whispers hotly against her skin.

"Already?" She asks, never faltering from the pace she has set atop his lap.

"Mmm. Please. Let me spill inside of you." His voice sounds strangled with desperation.

"And what makes you think I would allow you to do that?"

"I've been so good today, such a good boy for you. Please, please..." He babbles.

She chuckles, continuining to roll her hips against his. "Alright then. I suppose you have been. You may spend inside of me."

Aemond's entire body tenses before shuddering as he releases rope after rope of his pearly spend inside of her with a loud grunt.

She carries on stroking his hair, fucking him through his peak until he goes limp against her.

"Thank you, my Queen." He murmurs.

"Such a good boy." She replies, holding him against her chest.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

"Bonjour, dear Headmage!" Rook's voice resonates before the hunter appears out of seemingly nowhere, like usual. "Don't mind me, I just couldn't help but need to sate my curiosity. After all, for how long you've been here, not much is known about you. Where you're from, what's the extent of your powers, ce genre de choses (things like that). I'm not the only one curious, even: a little rose mentioned something along those lines during an impromptu visit of yours truly to his Alchemy class."

I believe the asker is referring to a voice line that Riddle has when Crowley drops into Alchemy for a Special Lesson. He wonders what kind of magic the headmaster must use--though knowledge of this line isn't necessary to enjoy this interaction.

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

It's odd, Rook had concluded, that he cannot discern anything meaningful about Crowley. It’s unlike the huntsman to be lacking in information, in details—but when it came to him, it became a jumbled mess. Unknown birthday, unknown home country, unknown past and powers. No records in any textbooks or formal documentation he could find.

All that was known was the name, occupation, height and weight. The bare basics. Hardly anything to work off of.

Rook regarded Crowley with curious eyes carved into emerald crescents. He provided his brightest smile, his warmest voice. He was a hunter laying out a nasty snare for his prey.

“By all means, I invite you to elucidate. I would personally love to learn more of our dearly beloved headmaster and his long and most illustrious career.”

“It seems as though my students have been gossiping about me once again… even my most studious boys!” Crowley mumbled to himself. (Rook’s hypersensitive ears had no issues picking up his words.) “Dear me, I’m too popular for my own good!!”

Then, addressing Rook in full, “I understand that you are all dying to know more about your dashing, intelligent, highly competent headmaster—however, prying into the personal matters of your teachers is not necessary to your pursuit of a magic education. I ask that you grant your instructors and myself our much-needed privacy.

“Adult matters are just that: adult matters! One day you will understand when you, too, get to be of that age.”

Rook's brows pinched ever so slightly. It's as though the briefest of clouds has passed by the sun, drowning out its light--but it returned, the momentary shift imperceptible to the naked eye.

“Je suis désolé,” he said, lowering into an apologetic bow. "I will mind my words when speaking to my superiors."

"Good, good! I shall be off, then. There are important snacks--" Crowley stopped and hurriedly corrected himself. "Erm, I mean important paperwork in my office which I must attend to. Enjoy the rest of your day, my student!"

The headmaster turned and started to make his way out of the courtyard. His back, exposed.

When the arrow came flying at his head, Crowley didn't flinch, didn't move--didn't have to. It froze midair, nowhere near its intended target, then dropped to the ground. A second later, a crystalline shield flickered into view, then vanished again.

Oh là là!

Rook's heart leapt with excitement. His interest, piqued.

Crowley craned his head back at him.

"Oops! Slip of the hand," the huntsman chuckled, not sounding so innocent with his excuse. He made no effort to hide the bow and a quiver he had somehow produced from his robes.

Bait left out to lure him in.

“Careful, Hunt-kun,” Crowley tuts, wagging a finger. “I may be a kind man, but even my kindness has its limits. I assure you, you do not wish to incur my wrath."

The headmaster--it was the same headmaster, harmless as ever, but... His shadow, it seemed to stretch along the path, taking on a new sinister shape. A monstrous raven, beak full of dagger-like teeth and blood-red eyes.

A chilling thrill bolted through Rook.

"That man seems so preoccupied with trivial matters," Riddle had once said. "It's difficult to believe he is a formidable mage."

Non, Roi des Roses. It appears that our headmaster is, in fact, quite the formidable mage indeed.

"... Bien sûr." Rook knelt, laying his bow and arrows on the ground. "You have my word. No more trickery or deception, fufu."

"Excellent! I'm glad we understand each other," Crowley chirped with the twirl of his cane. "Because I am so very generous, I shall overlook this transgression and allow you to be on your merry way."

He taped his lips together and whistled as he walked off. A cheery tune lifted up into the air like a bird taking flight.

Rook silently marveled at the beauty--and horror--of it.

[caycanteven]

Big thank you to @under-art-reblogs for honoring me with this awesome character once again! Getting to revisit Rook and bring her to life was so much fun, and getting to the nitty gritty of her character was a long time coming, but so very enjoyable and loved!! Super excited for her debut in the fic, and I most definitely recommend ya'll to check it out upon release to learn more about her!!! Thanks so much for supporting me and my work! An Absolute joy working on this ref and with you more so!! 🫶❤️

[rel124c41]

I know he’s only going to be a temporary character, much like Rollo, but in my heart, he’s a transfer student who is assigned to Ramshackle so we can dance among the graves there and I can giggle and kiss him all I want.

Also if I was in TWST and was walking around and saw him, I’d be so smitten IMMEDIATELY!!!!! Like Vil would immediately hate this guy just because of how fast I’d fall for him and how gorgeous he is and I’d start campaigns on how stunning and sweet he is.

cementary dates!!!!! cementary dates!!!! ( ★^O^★ )

bringing him to dine by the two graves in front of ramshackle, watching grim and zero play with one another. the night ambience of a full moon and ebony darkness,,, him lying his head in your lap as you read edgar allen poe,,, threading fingers through his hair but watching out for the crown piece which is sharp like barb wire,,

perhaps him taking the book from you and reading it himself, all while standing on the crescent stone wall, very melodramatic and rich as he reads ‘the conqueror worm’ aloud,,, aaah i need to know who will voice him (ﾉ∀`♥) i hope the VA has a lovely singing voice it’s only natural

even if he’s not a transfer student …. indulge in this little fantasy,, so u know how jack skellington can take off his head in the film, imagine that with this TWST character. a whole lollipop chainsaw dynamic!!! he’s just so anxious and intrigued to see what this new world has to offer him!!! he’s never been outside of halloween town and this all so very exciting!! won’t you let him just attend a few classes with you!! pls,,, i’m imagining keeping his head in a school bag as his headless body wanders around ramshackle,,

he also has great yandere potential outside of silly fluff scenarios too!! jack skellington is very much gung ho when he gets an idea,, not listening to sally,, dragging the whole town into his scheme through charm and whismy,, his star-eyed gojo ass clone suddenly seeing you in TWST and becoming obsessed with you!!! it’s only natural that halloween town has a queen right next to their pumpkin king, soon you’ll have the whole town just begging you to stay with them!!

AAAAA Vil would be so annoyed with me!! i would be as bad as Rook, waxing poetry nonstop about this nameless pumpkin king!!! he seems like the sweetest and silliest guy!! 🖤🖤

i literally have so many thoughts about him and WE DONT EVEN KNOW HIS NAME!!!! 💀

[lightarin]

Cuddle with me (Pomefiore)

General masterlist here.

Series: HLB; Savanaclaw; Octavinelle; Scarabia; Ignihyde; Diasomnia

Pomefiore boys reactions when you ask them to cuddle with you in bed.

Vil's amused by how surprised you are when he agrees. He lifts his hand, his finger pointed the way it always is when he's pointing something out to you.

"Cuddling is good for the mind and the body, especially when done with someone you care for. There'd be no reason to refuse."

Rook's agreeing before you can even finish your question, his eyes closing into delighted crescents as he presses a hand to his chest.

"But of course! To see be able to see your beauté in a new manner is something I could never refuse."

Epel's so surprised his natural accent slips out as he asks if you're serious. He manages to regain his composure as he agrees, his hands behind his back as he gives you a smile.

"I'm happy you asked me. I'll hold you whenever you need."

[thelonelyme]

♧𝐓𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐯𝐞♧

.

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞: ディズニー ツイステッドワンダーランド[Twisted Wonderland]

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐨/𝐢: Rook Hunt, mc.

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: A letter for you♡ [mc x Yanderish Rook Hunt]

𝐀𝐕𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐄: GN. Reader., this writing will contain themes vaguely yandere, stalking explicit, gore descriptions, mild anguish towards the end, implicit mentions of murder, slightly suggestive themes. I also wanted to take a few seconds to apologize for my prolonged absence. I lost my motivation to write, and my schedule quadrupled. I just wanted to say that I love you all♡.

"To my dear dove,

the purest and most majestic of all, who with your white feathers cradles my eyes at their close with the wonder of your angelic face.

Whenever I find myself passing by the lion’s little hiding place I find myself comparing- nay, no, no flower could be put on a par with your presence, no bewitching smell could be compared to yours, No petal could even be compared to your eyes, no pistil could be as yellow and bright as your smile, which illuminates the room every time you enter.

Whenever my sight catches your figure, my heart beats racing against my chest, as if it wanted to come out tearing the weak and thin skin to pulsate before your sight, to make you understand how much I suffer from love.

My breath gets thin, I feel like I’m dying every time I see you talking to your silly friends, I hear my pupils widen and my ears shriek when I hear the recognizable sound of your steps, the breath increases as well as the promodial hunger I feel at the sight of your juicy neck uncovered by the blouse, so tempting and inviting that every part of my being boils to taste even a piece of you.

I’d like you to invite me.

I feel the sweat forming and the heat accumulating under the surface of my gloves every time I see the position in which you sleep, how you move in your sleep and how you whisper gently while you dream sweet dreams.

A creature so vulnerable and so attached I could have slipped into your room so many times, but I didn’t.

I would tear out my every single vocal string just to show how they would still be able to sing the endless hatreds I wrote for you, I would take and gouge out my eyes so that you could put them down as a trophy, so I can continue to admire you endlessly, I’d like to give you my arms, legs, body, mind and essence.

You deserve it all.

I see and feel as the fingertips become clearer every time you hold your dear friend’s arms every time he is about to take flight during lessons with Vargas; and, like you, I also feel my fingers clenching against each other, sometimes creating small crescents on my palm scratched by scars, and the slight pain only increases the expectation of your divine attentions.

Hands shaking as I hang up photos so intimate and deprived of you, of your most personal moments.

What a heart, what magnanimity!

What an honor mine is!

To be able to capture you in such carefree moments and so bare you just so that I can imprint those moments in immortal photos!

Letting a humble man like me have the privilege of watching you constantly, letting me free you from the various burdens you didn’t even know you had- but don’t worry, I will always solve everything, you will never have to worry as long as I watch over you, my angel.

Although sometimes I wonder if you’re trying to feel my patience in any way. Letting the filthy hands of those parasites touch your perfect skin in its imperfections, how naughty you are, love.

But I bear no grudge, I could never! It would be sacrilege, blasphemy!

I’ve always wondered what’s going on in your pretty little head, and I’m desperate for the way you cry alone in your room, and I almost want to break through that thin glass barrier to distract you from what hurt you so much, so that I can make you understand that for you I will always be there and anyway, to console you, to drink from your tears and take responsibility for an act as low as those I have always done.

For you I’ll be yours.

And for a while, you even made me think you might be a hallucination, you know?

Every part of you screams to perfection, to sweetness and to a beauty that not even Vil could reach.

The way your breathing is so slow and calm unlike mine makes me feverish and terribly desperate.

Ah, how I wish your sweet hands could learn my body as I would with yours.. Angelic hands that would explore my every vulnerability, learning to know me like I know you, with the love that only two lovers can feel.

The way you eat, the scars you try to avoid showing, your fears, your dislikes, pleasures, desires! Everything about you makes me tremble as I write!

And your voice.. don’t even get me started!

Is it a sweet call from heaven? Or is it a poisonous trap covered with thick and sweet honey?

I hope this letter finds you in excellent-"

The pen stopped suddenly, the black ink that was dripping from the tip of the pen creating small spots on the parchment end. The man scribbled, erasing those last words.

It wasn’t a worthy enough way to end his hatreds, and he wanted to keep writing until the ink was finished, until every page in his room had been used.

"No, it doesn’t work. Maybe I should write more." He muttered, getting out of his chair. "Ah, but I could write pages, books about their magnificence!" He walked towards the wall, taking between his fingers the thin and fragile surface of the wallpaper, showing hand-to-hand photos.

Photos of you, who had taken with trembling and feeble hands, who had collected with the love of a lover, who retraced your every step.

He chuckled at the thought of you snorting at the sight of photos that, in your mind, would be ugly and too silly.

But to him they were not foolish at all.

Every single photo showed a small fraction, a slight but different nuance of your personality that emerged when you were alone.

All those giggles while you were shaking your social media, from those moments of play and recreation with that cat, to those heartbreaking ones, where you were crying about your situation.

The sweet but bitter tears that fell from your eyes clouded and veiled by a suffering that no one would want to feel with their soul, the trembling lip as you vent with the sleeping cat, making enough silence not to wake him in the middle of the night.

Only he knew this side of you, that most hidden and recondite part of you.

And he thanked you for that.

He took one of the photos, sliding his hand over it and then approaching it to himself. He put a chaste kiss on his forehead as he closed his eyes.

"For now all these letters will be our little secret, even if one-sided."

[siren-serenity]

stay until morning light 🌈

characters: rook hunt, gn!reader warnings: fluff, angst a/n: - i headcanon rook using french to soothe you down, knowing that at least his language is something familiar from your old world. additionally, he uses different nicknames because only one can't capture the beauty that you are~ - come get your man @v-anrouge, he's waiting at the altar already - feedback is appreciated!

Labored breaths catch Rook Hunt's attention as he slumbers. He sits up, hands instinctively reaching for the weapon beneath his pillow; he's desperate to help you even in his subconsciousness it seems, but the moonlight falls on your face, revealing the cause of his worries, and his heart sinks.

Your lips are open, feverish heat and labored gasps tear from your throat. Your eyes, squeezed shut painfully, leak streams of salty tears that carve valleys in your cheek. The intensity of your nightmare slightly frightened him; he had never seen anyone have such violent nightmares as you do. The moonlight falling through his windows highlights the way your mouth tears open and lets out silent screams and the way your fists are clenched so tight that he fears permanent crescent scars might be seared onto your beautiful hands forever. Rook cups your chin, his blond hair falling onto you as he attempts to wake you up. In his soul, in his mind, he prays that he'd never have to see you like this.

He knows you go through these nightmares but by the Sevens, he could never imagine it being so heart-wrenchingly painful to watch you go through this. It feels like his heart has been torn out of his chest and he is conscious all throughout the act. He couldn't even bare the emotional pain so he wonders solemnly what you must be feeling. It must be thousands- no, millions more painful than what he must feel.

"Ma cherie," He murmurs, pressing kisses everywhere on your face. He wakes you up in a delicate way, as if to contrast against the monstrous nightmares you are having. "Wake up, you're okay."

Your body shakes even more and he barely manages to dodge the punch you throw in your sleep. He continues to murmur softly and calmly, knowing that if he even raises his voice the wrong way, you might even get worse.

"You're alright, I promise," Rook grabs your hand, tracing doodles on your kiss. He slowly lifts your hand to his lips, pressing kisses to each fingerpad. "Wake up, please."

Slowly, but surely, your attacks seem to pause and your eyes twitch. Rook continues to speak in this gentle, calm manner and soon enough, you awaken. Your pupils were still dilated and your chest continues to heave up and down, but the fact you were conscious immediately soothes Rook's soul by a bit.

"Oh mon fleur," He brushes your hair out of your eyes, letting him lock eyes and stare into your enchanting irises forever. He finds it hard to focus on the matter at hand and not on the way you look so gorgeously stunning even after rousing from a nightmare. "What happened?"

Rook lets you steady your breathing while using his other hand to grab his pen to summon a glass of water.

"I had a dream," You murmured, nodding your head in thanks as he hands you a glass of water. "I was forced to leave Twisted Wonderland. Violently."

Slowly, the tears start to flow again. Rook immediately sets aside the glass before grabbing you into a tight hug.

"I-I don't want to!" You wail, sniffling and fisting Rook's nightshirt in your hands. The wrinkles were enough to make Vil scold him but Rook only runs a hand through your hair, calming you down. "I don't want to leave! I-I love this world, I love t-the memories I m-made, I love you!"

You sniff, rubbing your hand across your nose violently to stop your running nose.

"P-please, Rook. Don't make me leave!"

Rook picks out the broken undertone in your voice and the minor cracks in your voice as you sob violently. He tightens his hug around you and buries his head in the crook of your collarbone. He inhales and his senses is immediately flooded with your unique scent, the addictive drug that he is enraptured by.

"I'm addicted to your smile, your scent, your warmth. Don't ever leave me," Rook cups your chin so he can face you again. He leans in, capturing your lips in a quick kiss before continuing. "I can't bear the pain inflicted on my soul. Je ne peux pas virve sans toi, tu es amor de ma vie. Tonjours."

Your lips curve into a simple smile, yet that one simple action is enough to make Rook's heart stutter. He feels like a young schoolboy again, just about to debut into the world of adulthood. "What does that mean?"

"I can't live without you," He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and down your neck. He leaves wet marks along your neck; internally, he wishes he had worn lipstick so those marks could be seen and shown off to the world. Your fists tighten around his biceps and your eyelids flutter as he continues. "You are the love of my life. Always."

"Rook..."

"Mon ange, the things you do to me," He sighs before wrapping himself around you so he spoons you securely. Rook hopes his natural body heat would give you a safe haven to fall asleep in. Judging by the way your breaths become slower and slower, he must have succeeded and he smiles gently.

"Stay with me until morning light?"

"Tonjours, mon fleur. You don't even need to ask."

[darlingdarkly]

Fates Worse Than Death Part 9

Deimos x f!reader noncon! Enemies to Lover

3.6k words

HEED THE TAGS CW: noncon! elements, dubcon! elements, spiraling thoughts, unhealthy thoughts, negative attitude to therapy, survivors guilt, PTSD (reader is not doing well mentally this chapter, if I missed anything please tell me)

Part: 1, 8, 10

The first thing they do is unmask him. In the first two minutes they strip from him what took you over a month of tentative curiosity and gentle coaxing to see. He looks different. It seems ridiculous to say but the man underneath isn’t the same man who you pulled the mask off of. His features are the same, just as breathtaking and magnetic, but he’s guarded. You believe he has every right to be.

He won’t look at you, hasn’t since you both climbed out of the personnel carrier. You miss the warmth of his gaze. They want you to leave, get cleaned up and checked out but you insist you need to see this. You want them to believe you’re here out of some kind of duty to see justice. You hope they see it as determination to see the job through, for your squadmates who fell to get it done. If only they knew the truth.

They question him and you hoped he’d be stoic, just do the smart thing and stay silent, but that’s not how he plays things, he answers everything they throw at him, be it straight forward or cryptic he has a response for it all. They start from the beginning, the night he thwarted their first capture attempt, the night he took you. They ask him what he did to you. You waited on baited breath, wondering what he’d tell them. You know it won’t be the truth but you’d never thought it’d be what falls from his lips.

“Torture.” It’s one word, it’s minuscule but all encompassing. It’s vague but blanketing. It sets the rest of the room on edge, a stiffening of backs and tightening of fists so orchestrated yet subtle and it makes you rigid. No one looks at you, all eyes boring down on his before there’s movement, quick as a whip and you watch his head as it jerks left. The swiftness with which Rook throws the punch and the subsequent blow is delivered has your mouth falling open. You just barely stifle a horrified scream, body twitching as you nearly rush to him on pure instinct before mentally correcting and catching yourself. It’s a subtlety that few catch. Mira puts a hand on your shoulder in solidarity, she still sees you as fragile. Cracked porcelain held together by the thinnest of glaze washes. Fisher knows better.

His eyes keep to yours for the rest of the interview, you feel held down by his gaze but don’t dare return it, you know he’ll see right through you should your eyes meet and you need that shadow of doubt. They hold him still, two men on each side like at any moment in this room full of killers he’ll go critical and explode, though he hasn’t so much as flexed since they sat him down.

There’s further questioning but you don’t hear it. You’re present in the room but at the same time you’re simply not there. Your eyes never leave his, your fists never unclench, there’s dark red, crescent moons branded into the flesh of your palms as you fight for control against your rebelling thoughts. It crosses your mind more often than not to reach just behind you to Mira’s left leg, just within reach, obtain the USP40 strapped to her thigh, a simple tug up and out, muzzle free. It’s loaded, you know it is, it’s a simple trigger pull. How many could you get, you wonder, before they have time to react.

Fisher first. Then Mira. The guards. Then Rook. Five spent. Seven left. The scene dances beyond your eyes. Shots ring. Blood flies. Just five bodies between you and him. A whole base between the two of you and freedom. They’d descended upon you with the wrath of holy hell. The very body of the base on a razor’s edge already, a dropped pen could set it off. The odds aren’t in your favor, even as you play it over and over in your mind's eye you know you won’t. You can’t. Too risky.

But it doesn’t stop the yearning in your heart that screams at you for defiance. To let loose, give in. The two of you together, picking them off one by one, back to back. He’s unarmed but that’s no matter, you’ve seen what he can do, what he’s capable of. You could win, just kick it off, just one little push. You stand on the edge of a mental cliff staring into the abyss below. What will it be? Crumple or jump? Cave or kill?

The consequences don’t faze you. They bounce off the surface of your conscience like gnats. If you miss or stumble or freeze. If they’re smarter or faster or better. That’s the game. Maybe you’ll get one last look at him before you go, before it’s all over, before you’re out of the blue and into the black. Wouldn’t that be sweet? Isn’t that all anyone can hope for? One last look before you go?

Before you can mull over the lods and sums of their sins, the scales yet to have balanced in decision, there’s a hand pulling you back out of the room, it’s Mira’s. You can’t protest any longer, there’s a medic at her shoulder, they’re bracketing you now. You can’t help the glance back in his direction, it’s the sole moment his eyes meet yours and while the anger on your face is meant for the people forcing you from the room it softens ever so slightly as your eyes connect for the final time. You memorize his features one last time, you’re unsure of the next time you’ll get to see them.

The next thing they do is promote you. It didn’t come how you had expected. You wake up to a knock on your door. They’d checked you out, medically cleared you and sent you to your dorm after forcing you to part from him. You hadn’t been there in ages and you hadn’t missed it. The walls were thin and painted in chipping beige exposing gloomy eggshell white drywall beneath in patches. Your personal belongings adorn the surfaces of the room, though scarce they are. They don’t feel like yours, like maybe you’d collected them in past lives or seen them in a museum once. You slept thin in the night and heavy in the morn. Thoughts of him swirling, so close but so far and your dreams were no reprieve.

You climb out of bed and don’t bother to straighten yourself out, lucky for you it’s just Mira. You think at first she’s just checking up on you, doting on the rescued pup but her demeanor is all wrong. By the time she’s gone your mind is racing. You’re in, just like that. Two years ago when you’d started you’d bought a single 8.5 x 11 frame. It was for when you’d received your letter of advancement. You were so eager for this moment you’d pre-bought a frame to hang it up in but upon its arrival all you could do was stare at the empty fixture, its carbon black edges coated in a film of dust, with aloof disdain. You dropped the letter in the wastebasket on the way back to bed.

Later that same day they held a little promotion ceremony. Usually they waited for a group of recruits to advance all at once but these were special circumstances. So it was you and you alone on stage as they went through the motions, your own special pomp and circumstance moment in the sun. You hardly could believe the same woman dreamed of this exact fantasy two years ago just starting out, it all felt so numb to you now.

They wanted a speech, there were people in the small crowd, family of your fallen squadmates who were looking for some kind of… comforting closure. A way to close the casket on their loved ones with their heads held high and a story to tell. They were brave in their last moments. They fought until the end. They made a difference.

Do you tell them the truth? That they were dead before they even realized the kind of grave danger they were in? That they hadn’t so much as fired a single shot before they were cut down where they stood? That they didn’t make so much as a dent in the evil machine they signed up to dismantle? That it all was for nothing.

Through the frigid winds of numbing loss you were meant to ease their burdens by telling them their individual sacrifices had changed things for the better, saved lives even? Could you do that? Lie to these people?

Or maybe you’d be better off stepping up and giving them the real truth. Just stand up there and tell them you’d defected. That through a long, drawn out, battle of wills you’d never stood a chance in hell of winning and some unforeseen mental rewirings, you’d succumbed to the weight of his heavy hand and turned coat. That now you were far more than just in bed with the enemy but in love with him as well. That they died so you could live, only to end up kneeling at the foot of their killer like some tamed stray. Would it be a relief for them to know that at least they’d died quickly?

You spiraled ever downward with increasing speed as you waited off to the side for Mira to finish her introduction, oblivious to the words and world around you. It was a nudge from Rook who brought you back to the living. Without hesitation, your mind too lost to give commands so your feet pick up the slack for you and carry you up the three tiny steps to the podium.

It takes you a moment before you begin to speak but to those in the crowd it comes off as one drawn from somber respect rather than terrified inhibition. You tell them none of the things on your mind, in fact you don’t remember anything you say to them for the length of eternity that in reality, amounted to a little over a minute and a half. Just that it must have been good enough as they clap when it’s over and as your eyes shift amongst the crowd their own shine back at you with barely contained tears. You quickly look away.

Then Mira is beside you and she’s pinning ribbons to your chest and there’s more clapping and people are standing and you wish for nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole in this moment. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve this. You don’t-

“Cheri?” Rook calls to you in a harsh whisper and you find yourself again. You give one last nod to Mira and those in front of the stage before you join him and you feel the blood start rushing out of your head and back into the rest of your limbs. “What’s wrong?” He seems genuinely concerned and that somehow makes it worse.

“It’s all just… too much.” Not a lie, not the whole truth. He takes it for its surface value. “I know it must be a lot for you. You should take some time, lie down.” You no longer trust your voice so you just nod absentmindedly. You know what you need, as backwards as it is, as much of a slap in these people’s faces if they knew, you need to see him. He can realign you, set you straight, you want to run there but can’t. There’s someone in your way, they’re speaking, you have to ask them to repeat themselves.

It’s a woman with mid length black hair and pointed eyebrows, her skin looks soft and smooth, you knew if you touched it, it’d be soft. You recognize her. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t believe we’ve properly met. I’m Yumiko Imagawa.”

“Hibana, joined up with Rainbow in 2016, expert in paramilitary techniques and infiltration of high risk areas, appointed by Harry just five years later to be the leader of Viperstrike. I know you.”

If you had shocked her with your knowledge, she didn’t show it. “So you do. Can we talk?” It’s the last thing you feel like doing, with her at least, you have a date with a caged man.

“Now’s not really a good time for me.” You placate her with a polite smile as you move to shuffle past her but she’s quick to shift in front of you again. “It’ll only take a minute.”

Your polite smile falters, you’re not talking your way out of this one it seems, so you let her guide you to an empty office, it’s stuffy but comfy, or at least designed to appear that way. There’s bric a brac lining the shelves and pillows on the couch. The cheesy home goods variety that say ‘you can feel comfortable here’ but the stiff unlived-in quality takes any of the comfort it may have harbored and leaves only a dense lump of scratchy fabric behind, one that will jut uncomfortably into your side or back the whole while, never quite able to shift it in the right position as they ask you question after intrusive question after vaguely offensive question.

You’ve been on this dog and pony show before. You know what this is without needing an explanation. You knew this was coming. They ask you questions, you answer them ‘honestly’, they assure you there are no ‘wrong answers’ just ‘feelings’. The whole ordeal feels rubbery and faux. The imitation illusion of real meaningful conversation, meant to make you feel heard and seen but always leaves you with a chalky taste in your mouth because you know these conversations actually amount to nothing more than one simple question, one they can’t just outright ask you.

“Are you or are you not fit for duty?” You wish just once they would be as honest as they goad you into being. No, you don’t think you’re fit for duty, in fact, you’d love nothing more than to let the beast free, go down where they’ve got him subdued, bypass the doors and codes and sensors, pick the locks on his ankles and wrists and waist and set him loose. But for the second time today you can’t say what you’re thinking.

It would do not to forget that as you sit here it is not just your fate in your hands, but his too. He’d never make it out of here alive without you, certain that at any point someone with enough malice and just enough balls could wander down to his holding cell and slit his throat, do what everybody else is itching to do. You won’t let it happen. So as much as it pains you, you must keep up appearances, must keep a level head, must give the right answers, even if they say there are none.

She opens a large moleskine notebook and clicks the end of her Pilot G-2 pen and looks across to you, pointedly. “I’d like to start by having you give me a general consensus of your well-being. Tell me how you’ve been feeling, if there is anything in particular you’d like to focus on or talk about we can start there. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible. Obviously nothing you say here leaves this office and I’d like to make that very clear. Have you had a psych evaluation before?”

She already knows the answer to that, it’s in your file. “Yes, with Harry.” There’s a moment of poignant silence at the mention of Harry before she continues. “He used to give me my evaluations as well, were the two of you close?”

Your leg twitches and you wonder if she noticed, wondering just how closely she was examining you from across the cheap coffee table but she seems to just wait patiently for you to come to an answer. You were at one time, but that’s all changed now hasn’t it? What with him deceased and you sleeping with his murderer and all. “Somewhat.”

“How so?” You suck in a lungful of air and try to go back to the start. “I looked up to him, almost like a mentor. He..” You let the breath out slow before continuing. “..looked over my file a few times, gave me some guidance on helping my advancement along.”

You look up to see her quickly jot something down before your eyes fall away. What could you have possibly said that was noteworthy?

“I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you on your promotion. I think you’ll be a great addition to the team and I look forward to working out in the field with you.” You smile as warmly as you can manage. “Thank you, it’s an honor.” Or at least it would have been two years ago, it just doesn’t feel like one anymore.

“I heard your speech. I think you did a good thing today for those people. You gave them some much needed closure.” You stiffen. You can’t even recall what you’d said. You’re not even sure what to say next, nothing feels right or genuine, just as fake as the decor of this very room you feel like a fraud. You hope a little bit of candidness will go a long way.

“I feel bad. For them… for the ones they lost. It should have been me. I don’t deserve this.” Your hands nestle awkwardly together in your lap, unsure what to do with them.

“What you’re describing is called survivor's guilt. It’s common in our line of work, when a colleague falls in the line of duty and we make it out we often are left with this guilty feeling. Like somehow you don’t deserve to still be here when they’re not. Like if you had done something differently they’d still be here. Like somehow their deaths are your fault. Does any of this sound familiar?”

You’re quiet for a moment as the uneasy feeling of being exposed passes right through you like a ghost and chills your bones. Something in the way she could pinpoint just how you’re feeling with the little information you’d provided her. You wonder what else she could detect with the information you’d given her. Could she know the other thing? The real root of your guilt. The skeleton in your closet.

Your answer is a very timid “Yes.”

“It's important that you understand these things you're feeling and associate them with the right contextual emotions. These all stem from a level of grief for your squadmates, but none of your actions could have had any effects on their survival. All of this falls under a broader category called PTSD. When a person experiences or witnesses a traumatic event. Have you heard of that before?” You nod solemnly.

“How have you been holding up? Any anxiety, depression, trouble sleeping, nightmares?” The images of last night's dreams dance before your eyes. You and him and blood and death and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

“Just tired.” She nods in understanding and jots something down in her notebook before closing it up and looking up at you once more.

“I’m sure you are. You’ve been through a lot and this transition.. these changes you’re experiencing are going to take a toll on you that I want you to be able to handle. I am here for that purpose. No one knows exactly what you’ve been through, but together, over time, we can work through that.”

You look up at her and right into the concern and compassion she’s projecting onto you with her eyes and try to match her intensity with a smile that you hope isn’t as lukewarm as you feel. “I hope so too.”

“This isn’t going to happen all at once. I want you to come back and see me again sometime next week. With your promotions there’s going to be a lot on your plate but if you find some down time where you can get away I’d like to sit down again and check in. It’s important that we keep track of your mental well being.”

She pulls a notebook out and hands it to you, it’s brand new and blank. “I want you to keep track of your dreams for me. Any recurring dreams, nightmares, all of it. Your memory of them tends to fade the longer you go without recording it so if you write them down as soon as you wake up from them you’ll be able to provide the most detail.” You take the notebook from her and stare at it blankly in your hands. You wonder if you’ll lie and tell her your dreams are sleepless or if perhaps you’ll start having to imagine what your dreams should look like and try to write that down because there’s no way you can record what you’re truly dreaming.

“We can work through this.” You smile up at her because it feels like the right thing to do before you rise up from the brand new couch. “One more thing before you go.” You stop where you stand and turn back to her.

“While you were held hostage, were you sexually assaulted in any way?” You hoped you hid the shock you were feeling better on the outside than you were on the inside. Because on the inside you were screaming. “No.”

She took note of your response and looked back up at you as you exited the room on legs that felt like jelly. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You needed to see him. Now.