#// allow the power of the mother to give me strength

[borathae]

Too Sweet

“You’re too sweet for him, but he can’t get enough of the taste. Even if lately he makes you feel as if he has. Taehyung doesn’t like that you feel this way, showing you that the only drug he ever needs is you.”

Pairing: Gangster!Taehyung x f.Reader

Genre: crime!AU, established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: mention of past smoking, mention of murder as well as blood & violence, Dom!Taehyung, sub!Reader, lingerie kink, hand kink, dirty talk, praise, he calls her his slut fondly, he also calls her babygirl and (baby)doll, the title Sir is said like three times, cockwarming in his office chair, desperate sex on top of his office desk, DP of her pussy with his cock & fingers, choking without applying pressure, bondage with his tie, strength kink, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), squirting, he fucks her so good she pees a little jjsjsj, creampie, subby girl tears, he is as gentle with her as he is rough (sexy), smol ownership kink, kinda exhibitionism cause they fuck loudly with his guards outside the doors, hints at female masturbation, allusion to somnophilia, breast play with painless tit spanking, idk if this is warning worthy but he is a little "dismissive" of her feeling neglected by fucking her instead of listening to her, but he apologises healthily in the end and keeps being all "fuck, I misssed you" during sex, cuddles and kisses and praise for aftercare hihi

Wordcount: 5.6k

a/n: this is based on this post and all of you guys' wishes ohoho. it's definitely less on the soft Dom!Tae side because a bitch (me) wrote this during full ovulation bloom and i quite frankly felt like a bitch (dog) in heat ajjajsjs have fun besties 🤎

Taehyung was working late. He is at home for a change and you thought that it would mean you could see him more, but that wasn’t the case. You haven’t seen him at all today, not even in the morning because he locked himself in his office before you woke and during lunch time, he asked one of his men to bring the food to his office. You can’t stand it when he is like this. 

You know that Taehyung was a busy man. If he wasn’t gone, tending to missions or assassinating his targets, he was holed up in his office, allowing no one to come in. No one. Not even you, his woman. 

You normally don’t mind that he is absent, having your own things to do. But it has been days since you last saw him and you are getting needy. Not only for his attention, but also for his touch. You noticed it starting when you woke up all alone – like always these past few days – with thick, warm slick between your legs and a deep pit in your stomach only his cock could fill. You tried to get rid of it, but no matter how you touched yourself, it wasn’t enough. You missed Taehyung. You missed his touch and how he can turn you into puddy between his fingers. He gets off on the power. Taehyung is twisted like that, giving it to you with a taunting smirk on his lips which so very often makes you shudder. Sometimes he also looks at you as if you were his prey, as if you were one of the many fuckers he tortures on a daily. And you get off to it, craving exactly this look tonight.

Taehyung’s world wasn’t normal or on the bright side of the law. Taehyung’s world was as twisted as him, it was filled with drugs, murder and betrayal and reeked of dirty money and expensive alcohol. 

You slithered into it eight years ago with no chance of escaping. It all began when you came home to your younger siblings slaughtered and your belongings missing. Your parents had died years before and as the eldest of four, you took on the role of mother and father for your younger siblings. They were three, six and eleven when they were murdered. You were only twenty. The law didn’t help you. They dismissed it because of too little evidence, called it a case unsolvable and told you to leave when you begged them to continue the search. You met Taehyung in front of the police station. It rained that day and the air smelled of messy endings – or new beginnings, however one might interpret the meeting. He called you to the dark alleyway he was hiding in and offered you a drag of the cigarette he was smoking, which you declined while he took it for you with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“I can find the killers of your family”, he had told you.

“How do you know what happened to them?” you had asked him.

He pointed at the police station, “I know a lot of things in this city. Things these bastards up there could only dream of knowing. I know your name and that someone killed your three siblings. I also know that your parents died two years ago and that their deaths are connected to these murders.”

“Who are you?” you asked him.

“You can call me Vante, my real name isn’t important”, he told you, not knowing that one day he will have you screaming his real name for him each night as he made the messiest love to you.

“Why are you helping me?”

Taehyung took a drag of his cigarette, exhaled it through his nose. He stepped closer, drawing you in with his eyes. Something sick and twisted glimmered in them and you had found yourself gazing at it in awe. 

“Are you taking my help or not? My cigarette is running out and I’m not about to light another one”, he stressed back then, unaware that one day the only drug he will need in his lungs was your air.

Many years have passed since then. The world darkened in these years. Taehyung lost the playful spark he had back then, while you lost the innocence a normal person without criminal ties possessed. You know how a stranger’s blood feels on your hands these days, know how disgusting humans are once they die and their muscles give up and you know the bitter taste of lonely nights when Taehyung stays out longer than planned. 

You can’t take the taste anymore. You crave the sweetness of his kiss, the saccharine traces of his touch and the honey timbre of his voice.

Taehyung is locked up in his office and doesn’t let anyone in, but you can’t take it anymore. You have to see him. 

Two of his men are guarding the door. Their eyes flit to your cleavage but shoot away instantly, their bodies tense as they try not to look again. Looking at you in the wrong way will cost them their eyes. Taehyung would make sure of that. Just as he made sure that the killer of your family got the ending they deserved. You knew that you were twisted when you felt joy and desire as you watched him slaughter them instead of horror and disgust. You remember fucking him, bloodied and dirty, just beside the bodies of your family’s killer while Taehyung moaned into your mouth, drugged out and high on slaughtering. You haven’t been separated since. Except for these last few days. Fuck, you miss him.

“Master Vante wishes not to be distracted”, his guards try to stop you.

“I want to see him.”

“He told us not to let anyone in. Not even you, Mistress.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“Vante!” you call out. 

Moments later the door opens. Taehyung looks at you, then your skimpy outfit, then his guards. 

“You told them to keep me outside?” you ask him, cocking a brow at him.

Taehyung glares at his guards. They avoid eye contact, gawking at the front with pearls of anxious sweat on their foreheads.

“Come in”, Taehyung tells you darkly, stepping out of the doorframe.

With a triumphant bounce in your step, you enter his office. The main lights were off, only his green table lamp was on, tinting the room a mixture of orange and green. 

Taehyung closes the door and locks it, turning to you quickly to grab your wrist.

“What are you thinking?” he hisses.

“I miss you.”

“And that gives you the right to walk around like this in front of my men?” 

You are wearing lingerie and a see-through, short rope. Both blood red in colour. They hug your curves at the best parts and match with the colour of your lipstick. 

“Why? What’s wrong with my outfit?” you act oblivious on purpose, craving the fire in his eyes only you can ignite.

Taehyung furrows his brows. The fire burns deep. You, quite frankly, almost moan because of it. This is exactly the warmth you missed these past cold nights.

“I miss you, Tae. I go to bed alone and wake up just as alone. I miss you so fucking much.”

Taehyung clenches his jaw. He slides his hand from your wrist and steps back.

“I have a lot to do”, he says, retreating back to his desk. 

The distance is cold. Yes, the years took his playfulness, but they never took his affection for you. His distance is cold because it was never there before.

“Did I do something?” you ask him quietly.

Taehyung lifts his eyes from his papers. 

“What makes you think that?”

“You aren’t coming to bed with me anymore.”

“I am. You’re just always sleeping already.”

“You don’t hold me in the morning.”

“I do. You’re just always sleeping still.”

“You lock me out of your office.”

“There’s stuff in here I don’t want you to see.”

“You don’t want to fuck me in this outfit.”

Taehyung purses his lips. 

“You normally always do.”

“I want to do the most sinful things to you, don’t mistake my indifference with lack of desire. If I didn’t have so much shit to do, I’d bend you over this desk and fuck days worth of cum into you.”

You moan with your knees buckling. Taehyung watches it happen, allowing you to know it affects him by loosening his tie a little.

“Did you like that?” he asks – rasps. 

You nod your head, giving him pleading puppy eyes.

“Come here.”

You obey his orders instantly, hurrying to his desk so you could stand in front of him.

Taehyung spreads his legs, leaning back in his chair. It creaks as he does. He runs his hand over his chin, taking you in with fiery eyes. 

“What do you really want?”

“Your touch.”

“Don’t keep stuff from me. Tell me what you want.”

“I want.” You gasp for air. “Oh god, Tae. Don’t make me.”

He darkens his eyes, chewing imaginary gum.

“If you want me to help you, you gotta tell me. You know how deals with me work.”

How could you forget. Making a deal with Taehyung is what brought you here. Letting him find your family’s killer is what made you into the obsessed woman you are today. 

You didn’t have to accept his deal back then, but you did. You took the cigarette and finished it in one inhale, sealing not only your deal with him, but also your fate. 

“I want you to touch me. I’ve been wet since the morning and I can’t stop it.”

His eyes skim over your crotch. His chest rises and sinks in one deep, affected breath.

“Did you try stopping it?”

“Yeah.”

“How?” 

You shy away. Taehyung sits up, hovering his hand over your waist without touching you. It aches not to be touched by him. 

“Don’t be shy now. Tell me how you took care of it.”

“I touched myself”, you whisper.

Taehyung purrs, “you touched yourself. What a bad girl. I can’t remember giving you permission.”

“You haven’t been there for me for days.”

He smiles. The first of the day. It makes your knees weak.

“So it’s my fault?”

“Yes.”

His smile grows. He follows his hand with his eyes as he travels it along your curves. The touch never comes. It drives you insane to have him so close but still be denied the honey warmth of his hands.

“If I knew how fucking needy you were, I’d have fucked you in your sleep.”

You whimper. 

He looks up, meets your eyes in fiery desire.

“I’d have infiltrated your dreams and made you cream my cock before you could even wake up.”

“Please touch me, please”, you beg because you have already reached your breaking point.

He chuckles, chewing gum again.

“I can touch you in lots of ways. Be more specific.”

“Cock. I want cock.”

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands on his stomach nonchalantly. You gawk at them. You crave their touch. Fuck, please.

“Alright”, he says coolly. 

“Really?” you gasp, stumbling because your knees actually gave up on you. Taehyung is on his feet instantly, lifting you onto his desk and holding you between his strong hands. 

“Careful. Are you okay?” he asks, studying your features worriedly.

Despite all the killing he is doing, all the fighting and rough work, his palms are soft. Feeling them on your skin makes you moan. Finally. His touch heals you.

“I want to be fucked so bad”, you beg.

Taehyung chuckles, “shit, you’re gone for.”

“Please”, you open your legs, showing him your wet panties. 

Taehyung licks his lips, gulping heavily. You are soaking the documents under you. Fuck, you haven’t been that wet in ages. Taehyung wants to pump his digits into you, fuck your slickened cunt hard and fast, get his cock creamed. But he holds back. He still has work to do and he knows exactly how to take care of you in a way which still allows him to do what he needs to do. 

“Wrists out.”

You obey his orders.

“From now on, your safeword is Red and your life line is humming our song. Understood?” he tells you as he opens his red tie.

“Yes, Sir”, you whimper, leaking all over his desk.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl when you listen so well.” He pulls your wrists closer, wrapping the tie around them a few times. 

You are heaving. You can’t handle how much all of this excites you. 

“Too tight?” he makes sure, rubbing your knuckles gently. Each touch he places makes you want to scream. You missed it so much. 

“No, just right.”

“That’s good”, he says and lifts your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles. Each of them. Without breaking eye contact. You are truly puddy in his hands. “You know why I have to do this, don’t you?”

“I touched myself without your permission.”

“Exactly, bad girl”, he says with a playful spark in his eyes. 

You have to giggle because of it, writhing on his desk. Off of said desk he lifts you moments later. 

He sits back down on his chair and begins unbuckling his slacks. 

“Tae”, you moan, pressing your legs together. Finally. Finally. Finally. 

He opens his belt, his button, his zipper. He slides his hand inside. Seconds later, it reappears with his cock between his fingers. He’s already hard and throbbing, sitting heavy in his touch.

You ogle him, drooling all over yourself.

“What do you want to do to it?” Taehyung orders you.

“Sit on it.”

“What a naughty girl, mhhhm”, he rolls his head back, arches his back as he puts on a show of jerking himself off.

This is to rile you up, to show you what you currently don’t have.

“Please, can I have it?” you beg, fighting your restrains. 

“Mhm, take it.”

“Oh god, oh god.”

You fail to climb on his lap on your own and so Taehyung helps you with a guiding touch. He even pulls your panties aside for you, holding his cock in place as you sink down on him. It squelches wetly. 

Taehyung tenses his thighs for just a second, biting down on his lower lip as a deep purr rumbles in his chest.

You totally lose it, falling against his chest with your tied up hands trying to grab his shirt. Your lips press against his neck. He smells masculine and clean. 

“Taehyung”, your moan is filled with relief and ecstasy. 

“You weren’t lying. You’re so fucking wet.”

You move instantly. Messily and needily. You move. Move. Get stopped. 

With both hands dimpling your hips, Taehyung is keeping you still. He ignores your pleading whimpers and your distressed gasps. Instead he rolls closer to his desk and straightens up, picking up his pen.

“That’s perfect. Keep my cock warm like this”, he says nonchalantly.

“Wh-what?” you are out of breath, close to tears. You want cock so bad and you finally have it, but he is denying you to move? Does he want to make you cry? You can’t get any more desperate and yet he wants to prove you wrong. 

You lift your head from his neck. Taehyung glances at you.  

“You didn’t think that I’d allow you to move after the stunt you pulled, did you?” he taunts, chewing gum again.

“What stunt?”

He stops chewing, lowering his eyes darkly.

“When you showed yourself like this in front of my men. When you touched yourself without my permission. When you barged into my office and accused me of neglecting you.”

“You have been neglecting me.”

“Careful”, he warns, bucking his hips up.

You moan, rolling your eyes back as your body wobbles in defeat.

Taehyung pulls you closer, keeping you steady that way. He fucks into you again, gritting his teeth while you whimper like a happy slut. Your cunt is so fucking puffy, sucking in his cock greedily. Every voice in his head is telling Taehyung to drop his work and fuck you senseless. But he can’t. He has a point to prove.

“I’m allowing you to be in my office and to sit on my cock, but anymore backtalk and I’ll gag you”, he warns even if talking is hard.

You spill tears.

“Please more.”

He wipes your tears, caressing your chin afterwards.

“Patience, I still have to work”, he tells you and looks back at the papers.

“Oh god, please”, you plead, hiding back in his neck. You want to move, but you can’t because he is keeping an iron grip on your hips. All you can do is sit on his lap with his girthy cock deep inside you. And you can’t even run your hands over him. You wiggle them in their restraints, begging against his neck.

“Please Tae, please.”

“Patience. It’s only been half a minute.”

It felt like three hours. You need him pumping into you. Warming his cock isn’t enough. 

Time passes. You don’t know how much, but it’s too much for you. All you can concentrate on is his cock. He is so hard inside you. So big and girthy. You were never so aware of being filled than you are currently. You can feel every inch sitting inside you and how he is stretching you out. The pit in your stomach is shrinking but it’s still there because you aren’t allowed to move. You clench your pelvic muscles. Electricity runs through you. This helped. When you tense up, you can feel him press against your sensitive spots. 

Dumb in desperation, you start chasing the sensation. You clench, relax, clench, relax. Over and over. It feels so good. You finally have what you had craved for days. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taehyung soon breaks the silence, reminding you that he could feel as well. 

You tense up, feeling dizzy. You forgot that it’s noticeable to him when you clench down. 

“Mhm? What are you doing?” he stresses, digging his thumb into your softness. 

“It hurts.” His touch loosens, but tightens again when you continue whining. “It’s not enough, please let me move.” 

Taehyung takes a deep breath, keeps it in for a moment and exhales it in time with his big hand sliding to the small of your back. 

He gives it a small push, moving you like this. You shudder instantly, leaking on his cock. He moves you again and you pick up on it instantly, meeting his movements needily. 

“Nuh-uh.” He slows you down with just one touch. “Like this. Understood?”

“Yeah”, you whimper, obeying his orders.

“Good girl, such a good girl”, he praises and shifts his attention back to work.

So now he’s got you grinding down on his cock. He is glad that he is sitting because it turns his legs weak. He missed your warmth like nothing else. Concentrating on his work is definitely becoming difficult but he is stubborn. He needs to keep cool a little longer. 

You are in a state of ecstasy, panting and drooling against his neck as you finally have what you craved. You have his cock moving inside you. Now granted, the movements are just small grinds back and forth, but it’s like a drug to you. He shifts deep inside you, prods at your puffy walls and swollen good spots and the folds of his slacks are rubbing against your clit. You have his big hand on your back, rubbing circles into your thinly dressed skin. Everything is just perfect. Taehyung might think he is giving you a punishment with such little movements, but you are in fucking heaven. This is exactly what you needed. 

Taehyung doesn’t realise the gravity of his mistake up until the point you suddenly tense up and squeak his name. But by then it is already too late. He has you throbbing around him seconds later as you orgasm as if you never had before.

You whimper, trying so hard not to shake and tremble, but Taehyung can feel it nonetheless. It’s squeezing his cock. 

“You fucking-”, Taehyung growls, throwing his pen aside. His composure is broken. He stands up with you and swipes his desk clean just so he can lie you down on it. He takes your hands and pins then above your head, staring down at you with crazed eyes and gritted teeth. “You’re such a fucking temptress. How dare you cum like that.”

You are barely present after your high, writhing and twitching on the desk. He thrusts his hips. Consciousness returns. The sensitive, fucked state of you is obvious again. 

You squeak his name and arch your back as your eyes finally meet his’. His pupils are blown out, he has a sense of craze in his face. 

“I should tie a vibrator to you and leave you shaking by my feet for what you’re doing to me”, he spits as he finally drills his cock into you. Hard and rough. The desk shakes because of it. Your body does as well. “I have work to do and you’re messing with my schedule. I should punish you, but fuck”, he buries himself as deep as possible and write his name against your walls, “you fucked me up. Just wanna pound into you”, he laughs lazily, following it up with a lulled “fuuck.”

“Harder please”, you beg, riding on the high with your head turning. 

Taehyung fulfills your wish with a growl. His fingers dig into the softness of your thighs so he can keep you in place as he fucks you into a state of senseless on his desk. You answer his guttural growls with high pitched wails of gratefulness. You finally have what you needed. You have his entire attention. And it feels so fucking good. 

It is finally obvious to you how much Taehyung missed you too. He only fucks like that when he hasn’t been with you for a while. He only grips you with such strength when his fingers hadn’t felt your softness in ages. He is only so out of breath when your air hasn’t filled his addicted lungs for some time. 

“I missed you”, he gets out. 

You meet his eyes. Tears escape you easily. He slows down and leans over you to wipe them gently. A moment of tenderness in the passion. A moment to remind you that he loves no person as much and as deeply as he loves you.

“I missed you so fucking much”, he rasps and slides his hand to your neck to rest on it. No pressure. Just contact. His hips pick up speed, claiming you as his’ in more ways than one. 

And you roll your eyes back without closing them, melting into the desk as he rearranges your insides. The pit is finally being filled. The fire is finally burning you again. You are so happy, moaning his name as loudly as possible. 

“Yes baby, moan for me. It turns me on. Moan for me.”

His guards just right outside the door are non-existent to you and him right now. The fact that they most definitely can hear you, hasn’t sunk in yet. You and Taehyung are lost in passion. You have to pick up on days of absence, you have to fuck until the desperation is finally gone from your systems. Fuck, you need each other so fucking bad. 

“You feel so good, my good girl. Love filling you with my cock. So good, fuck so good. You’re taking me like such a good girl”, Taehyung is babbling. He always gets like this when the sex just hits right. He loses control over his tongue and begins spitting whatever dirty thoughts run through his foggy mind. “My good girl, my fucking slut. Look at you. Fuck.”

His right hand cups your tits, playing with them roughly. The touch is heaven. Even through the material of your lingerie you can feel it.

“Taehyung”, you wail, arching into his touch.

“I hate that you thought I don’t wanna fuck you in this. Shit, I want you like fucking crazy”, he moans and gives your tits a gentle spank. Just hard enough that they jiggle for a moment, but still gentle enough that no pain shoots over your skin. 

You still sob and mewl for him, writhing on the desk like a woman brought to her limits. And you are. He is bringing you to your limits, pushing you right past them because he is twisted like that.

“Fuck, you’re cumming again?” he slows down.

“Don’t stop please. Faster!”

And you enjoy every second of it because you are just as twisted. It burns so deep when he is rough during your orgasm and you need it to continue burning.

“Urgh fine”, he is tensing his jaw, furrowing his brows, “you’re so tight. Your pussy’s sucking me off. Shit, ah- babygirl ahm mhh urgh.”

Taehyung wants to crumble on the floor. Every inch of his body is electric. You have him so high. And it doesn’t stop. His cock is throbbing. He swears he hasn’t been that hard in ages. He might actually pass out from how much blood is shooting to his dick. But he’s got a deal to fulfil. He promised you relief and Taehyung isn’t going to disappoint. He isn’t the type to break deals. No matter how much they ruin him. And you are ruining him like nothing else. 

You are so tight after your high, so wet that it is difficult for his cock not to slip out. It’s squelching out of you, messing up not only your connected bodies but his desk as well.

“You’ll be the death of me”, he gets out.

“More.”

“More?” he squeaks out, following it up with a disbelieved laugh, “how much hotter do you wanna be burn?”

“Until I’m reduced to piles of ash”, you croak and grab his wrist with your tied hands. You guide it to your middle. 

Taehyung picks up on your silent message instantly, rubbing circles into your puffy clit. 

“No”, you mewl, “stick them in, please.”

Taehyung growls needily. He gets a little dumb in pleasure when you reach the point where you beg for what you want without shame. He is so obsessed with you it’s crazy. 

Taehyung slows down to make it easier and slips one of his fingers into your cunt. The tightness makes both of you gasp.

“I’m going insane, fuck”, Taehyung croaks, staring at the pretty view obsessively. His huge cock inside you, his finger right beside it, your puffy lips moving around him and your red lace panties stretching against his shaft. “You’re so stuffed with me. Does it feel good to you?” 

“Another.”

“Shit, you’re actually killing me.”

His second digit fills you just as easily, pressing against your swollen g-spot. You whimper and squirm, tensing around him. He glances at your face. It is scrunched up, skin glistening in a layer of sweat and pleasurable tears.

“Too much?” he makes sure.

“No, perfect. Please move”, you squeak out.

Taehyung huffs out air, giving you exactly what you ask of him. The friction is unbearable, the pressure around his cock is making his knees shake but he keeps moving. You are moaning so prettily for him, stretching your tied up arms above your head as if you wanted to reach for the stars he is making you see. 

“My perfect woman. Urgh my…pretty….slut….my princess, urgh…is this what you…wanted?” 

“Yes, yes, yes”, you squeal and keen, glowing in happiness.

“So beautiful, I’m going insane”, he moans and wraps his unoccupied hand around your neck again. No pressure, just warmth. He doesn’t have to squeeze down to let you know that you belong to him. Not that you need a reminder. You belong to him willingly. 

It was over for you the moment your eyes locked. You had been his’ ever since you shared this fateful cigarette in the dark alleyway while the rain poured down on you. You are his’. No amount of distance will ever change this. 

His hand around your throat is nothing but a warm reminder that he feels the same. His palms are soft, his heavy rings are hard and warmed up from his body heat. The touch is so tender, contradicting to what his other hand was currently doing to you. He is curling his long fingers as best as your tight walls allow him to, matching the rhythm with that of his eager hips. You stopped moaning because you lost the connection to your voice. Breathe. You have to concentrate on breathing otherwise you might pass out. 

“Fuck, I can feel you clenching again. My good girl, taking me so well and looking so pretty doing it. Shit, my slut, fuck sorry I meant my pretty girl. Urgh baby, are you cumming again?”

You give him a small, fragile squeak then break on his digits and cock. You squirt all over him within seconds, screaming his name because it is all you can do. 

“Yes fuck.” He abandons your neck and presses down on your stomach to the point where you can’t tell whether he is still making you squirt or you are already pissing yourself. You don’t mind, riding the feeling with messy tears and a snotty nose. His documents and clothes are ruined, but you can’t stop. 

“Give me everything, that’s my good babygirl. I love it when you fucking wet yourself like that. Shit, I can’t do this for long anymore. Getting sensitive, mh-hm.”

“Please cum inside.”

His hips falter.

“Please, please, ah! Please!” you beg him, making up for the loss of movement by wiggling your hips until he finally picks up his rough pace again.

Taehyung leans down, pinning you against the desk with his bigger frame. He slips his fingers free from your tight cunt, so he can wrap his arm around you. His left hand closes around your throat, his lips are pressed to your ear as he talks dirty to you.

“I’m gonna cum so good for you, doll. I saved up so much for you. Gonna fill you up with all of it until you’re dripping.”

“Please, please, please”, you beg with tears in your eyes.

“Yeah? You want this cum?”

“Yes please, yes please.”

“Shit babygirl, urgh”, Taehyung growls through gritted teeth, squeezing down on your neck as he empties his heavy balls into your cunt. 

You can feel it shoot out of him and cover your walls to the point where you can’t keep it inside anymore. It drips onto the floor, messing up his cock and balls.

“Take my cum. Fuck, such a good girl. You’re made for my cum, urgh fuck”, Taehyung talks himself through it, holding you against him in his strong, protective arm. And you wail his name, wishing for his sticky cum to stay inside forever. 

He slacks against you after his high, dropping with a whimper of your name. 

“What the fuck, woah”, he gets out, trembling in the aftershocks. “Are you okay?”

“Yes”, you get out weakly.

“I kid you not. Fuck”, he exhales deeply. “Put your arms around me.” 

You obey his orders, mewling weakly when he lifts you off the desk and sits you down on him as he sinks into the chair in defeat. His cum oozes out and squelches everywhere, but it’s only a little amount compared to how much was still inside you.

He slacks against the chair, gazing up at you with half lidded eyes. Sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead. He unties your hands.

“Do they hurt?”

“No”, you assure him, touching him instantly. He feels so strong and warm under your hands. His heart is racing so much. You needed this reminder. The reminder that you can still raise his pulse.

Taehyung closes his eyes halfway. “I love you”, he lulls, following it up with a smile.

“I love you too”, you whisper, lowering your eyes just sadly enough that he worries.

He furrows his brows, tilting your head up with two fingers under your chin.

“What’s the matter? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head.

“Talk to me.”

“Can I be kissed?”

His features soften.

“You’re so cute. Of course you can. Come here, babydoll”, he says and slides his big hand to the nape of your neck to guide you into a kiss. 

You melt into it with a fluttering heart and no thought in your brain except the repeated cheers about how much you love him. You roll your hips down into him. He tenses up, breaking the kiss with a whiney chuckle.

“What are you doing?” 

“Please don’t go back to working, please I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“I won’t work, just…” He arches his back. “Give me time to recover, ah too sensitive.”

“Please Tae”, you beg, grinding down on him despite his begs.

“Fuck, did I really neglect you that much that you can’t be satisfied no matter what I do?” he groans.

“Yes”, you get out and pull him into a kiss.

“I’m sorry. Shit, gotta make it up to you then”, he mumbles between kisses, hugging you against him as you giggle into the kisses. “Come here you adorable temptress you.”

“Ah Tae. Wait. That tickles”, you squeak in laughter as you and he lose yourselves in a tingly, passionate dance of grinding, kisses and love bites.

[shadykazama]

Hello! Your headcanons on Wukong/Destined One had me giggling so much 😊 they're so great, couldn't stop rereading.

Um, if it's alright, can I ask for some Wukong/Destined One x Reader with their baby? Feral daddy monkey in his nesting phase with his mate and baby is so— 🤭

Absolutely! I have a lot of thoughts and the people demand more monkey business- so let's get down to it.

❤ Wukong

Starting with the pregnancy~

He is ELATED.

The idea of a proper heir had never crossed his mind because well- he's immortal. He doesn't need one. But that doesn't mean the idea of his own flesh and blood isn't positively exciting.

There's a chance he knows you're pregnant before you do. What with all of his special powers and heightened senses.

Celebrates privately with you of course but it becomes a mountain-wide event very quickly.

You are showered with praise and blessings by all the monkeys.

He will never miss a chance to brag that he's going to have a baby. And he's definitely smug about it too, thinks your child is going to surpass even his power.

When you start showing he gets more smothering.

Don't forget our king's fatal flaw! He thinks he knows what's best.

Will limit how much you travel and makes sure you always have at least two attendants by your side while he's gone.

Which, once you get further along, isn't often. There were plenty of superstitions about pregnancy in ancient China, as well as a high infant mortality rate- and that's not even counting what complications could happen due to the magical nature of your child. So he'd be stressed.

He expresses stress through aggression (canon), though it's never pointed at you. He'd be fiercely protective over the mountain, but especially any of the areas you regularly stay in. He'd be very snappy at everyone for the entire second half of the pregnancy, except you of course, who he'd be showering with praise and reverence.

Likes holding your stomach while you rest and tells your baby about the great lineage they're being born into, recounting his titles and strength and promising them they'd be greater.

He's hoping for a boy, but he's assured his child will be spectacular regardless of the gender.

When you give birth he will be extremely focused. He can't afford to be weak in a moment when you need him most. (Though your cries of pain and effort will certainly make his heart ache.)

As you're holding your baby for the first time, his teasing, smug attitude is nowhere to be seen. He just looks at you as if you'd given him the universe itself.

Cutest baby ever might I add 👆.

It's a Chinese tradition that only immediate family is allowed to meet the baby for the first 100 days after it's born, so it'd just be you and him for a majority of three months unless you invite your family to meet them.

In traditional fashion, on the 100th day a banquet is held to officially introduce the baby to everyone. And MY GOD would it be an event...

Besides all of the monkeys on the mountain who want to celebrate their new prince/princess, I can't even imagine how many celestials and demons would come to pay their respects and blessings- be it out of fear or respect.

Either way, expect a very long day and a LOT of gifts.

^ Wukong doesn't leave your side for the entire day. I dare someone to try and pull something.

You'd expect with his trickster personality that he'd be a very lenient dad, but Wukong is surprisingly dutiful in making sure your child doesn't turn out lazy or ignorant.

That by no means is to say he wouldn't be a wonderfully playful father. He'd have a wonderful connection with his child, and his most important lesson to them would be to respect their mother ;)

More of a one kid kind of guy, so he'd probably stop after the first, unless you had twins or triplets.

As protective as he was with you when you were pregnant, he's pretty chill with the actual kid. He knows they're durable and will let them get roughed up doing dumb stuff.

Carries them around hanging off his tail and will pretend like he doesn't know where they went.

It's like how cats will let their babies 'sneak up on them' to encourage them to keep trying. He does the same thing with your kid when they try to trick him.

Your baby would be the most respectful little shit ever. A little shit nonetheless, but would do anything for you or their father.

All the monkeys on the mountain help keep an eye on the little sage so you'll never feel lost or alone in parenting. It's very much a joined effort and your baby will see the other monkeys as their family as well!

This wonderful piece of Sun Wukong was done by @kanade-howl here on tumblr! They post their work on Twitter as well at @kanaade_ and @_liehuzuo please support them!

💙 The Destined One

Give him a bunch of babies I beg you.

He'd get addicted, he wants a big family for SURE.

When you first tell him you're pregnant he'll probably take some time to fully soak it in.

You'll be used to being patient with him at this point, but I imagine something like this is really nerve wracking so don't feel bad if you rush him for a response.

He'll put a hand on your stomach as if he's checking for himself before picking you up and smothering you with love.

He's not a chatty guy but he'll let you know how happy he is!

^ That being said, during your pregnancies is the most talkative he'll ever be.

He doesn't want you to stress about communicating and knows your body is going through a lot so he pushes himself to talk more to make sure you get everything you need.

That doesn't mean he'll be a chatterbox by any means. More than nothing is still very slim :')

Expect a lot of one word questions.

Trusts you more than he trusts his own instincts. His instincts tell him you shouldn't be climbing or moving around much- but if you want to, who's he to tell you what to do? He's not the one pregnant 🤷‍♀️

Follows you around like a guard dog when you do though, doesn't matter what you're doing.

Somehow even more physically affectionate than normal. Will insist on holding your hand when you walk so you can lean your weight on him.

When you start showing he'll be amazed. It's not that he's never seen a pregnant person before but like... That's his baby in there and he can't believe it.

His favorite thing to do is lay his head against your stomach while you're resting. Will kiss your skin and adore the life you're making.

You can catch him whispering things to your baby while he's resting his head on your stomach.

Your body is going to ache and he is more than happy to massage it for you. He doesn't even need an excuse to touch you, but he'll find them anyway.

Once you get further along and it gets harder for you to get around, he'll pick you up and take your wherever you want to go- within reasonable distance from your home of course. Not because he can't take you further, he just doesn't want to in case something happens.

But he wants to make sure you get fresh air and still see the beauty outside of your bed.

Doesn't trust anyone to watch you. It's him or nothing.

Makes offerings and prays to the goddess of childbirth. He does this a few times before you catch him and start helping.

He's a bundle of nerves when you're giving birth. If you weren't preoccupied, it'd probably be painfully obvious how nervous he was.

Holds you while you hold your baby and will not stop telling you how much he loves you and how perfect the baby is.

Gets baby fever bad.

Baby will be spoiled, and so will any other baby after that.

Huge advocate for carrying the baby. If you're not opposed to it, he probably carries them more than you.

Has the most deadpan look on his face as he looks at this baby but he has so much adoration for his little miracle.

Stressing over your baby crying in the middle of the night? Not with him! He's at that babies beck and call.

Watching a nearly mute man deal with a curious child is definitely amusing and you get a front row seat.

Your children kind of just accept that their dad doesn't talk much, but he'll always tell them he loves them if they say it to him.

Takes them everywhere with him so he can teach them. Is SO proud when the oldest starts helping teach the younger ones.

He's proud of them in general honestly.

Your kids are going to be super loving and curious. I think he'd foster really healthy relationships between all of them.

You'd have a whole team taking care of you if you ever got sick.

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Concubine Harem

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Many people would call you crazy or insane but you didn’t care. You absolutely hated your life and the god forsaken family you were born into. If you could choose, you would have been born into a lesser family. It wasn’t always like this, in fact when you were younger you were last in line for the throne. It was due to the sabotage of greedy and jealous mothers that got all your half siblings and full blooded siblings murdered. Unfortunately, that meant that you were forced into the position of being the next heir and eventually the new ruler.

You could remember the moment you became heir, you were immediately bombarded with people trying to curry up your favor. You honestly hated it, everyone just felt superficial and it didn’t help that as you grew, so did your power. Even your childhood friends were not immune to this. Imagine your shock when your closest friend got up on one knee and asked for the chance to court you. Then your classmate, then your former brother’s friend, and etc.

You had barely even had a concept of what love was. From a very young age your mother was murdered and your father hardly ever paid that much attention to you as well. You were mostly alone in your own little world and you absolutely loved that. People always just seemed so annoying to you that you did the bare minimum in communicating with others.

You tried to remain single as long as possible but your father did not agree with this decision of yours. He’s always seen relationships and marriage as a way to get more influence from around the world. So at the age of twenty, you were officially given a concubine, a foreign princess from the East. She was clingy and whenever you talked to other people she seemed to always want to monopolize your attention. This behavior only seemed to get worse when your father caused you to take in concubines to gain various alliances.

Within your harem there was competition daily. Sons of generals who tried to show off with their strengths, princesses who tried to get your attention with their singing abilities, princes who would try to show off their archery, scholars who showed off their intelligence, etc. The list goes on and on. There was so much jealousy in your harem that it was unbelievable. It also didn’t help that everyone was always trying to kill each other. You were so sick and tired of it. All you wanted was some peace and quiet.

There were daily assassination attempts on concubines, poised drinks to make someone infertile, constant fake crying so that you could favor someone, and etc. Every single time you take in a new concubine you could always feel them seething but you always ignored it. You didn’t know why they loved you so much, hell you even told them if they ever wanted a divorce you would give it to them. Yet, no one has ever left willingly. It was as if they looked up to you as a god or something it was just so strange.

You’re favored concubines were of course, always thrilled to have your attention on them. They were usually the ones who got to sleep with you at night. Seems as a privilege as only the most loved got to do that. You, however, had to be careful sometimes because unwanted sexual advances could happen anytime in the bedroom.

If you feel in a particularly good mood that day however, you may even let one of them bathe with you. “Your majesty, your skin is silky smooth. I wish to do this with you forever. No words can express how I feel and how much I love you. Won’t you allow me to be your first husband?” Yeah, this was basically how most of your conversations went. Everyone wanted to have the first slot at being your husband or wife. It was the ultimate showcase to prove you loved them the most and was a definite power trip for those in the harem.

Going to bed everyday was like a minefield. You just don’t know who’s going to show up in your chambers. Most of the time it’s one of your concubines, that you allowed to sleep with you for the night, in provocative attire. “Your majesty, I’ve been feeling a little lonely lately. Won’t you please pay some attention to me?” It’s honestly crazy how there is no limit of what these guys wouldn’t do for you. They just seem so overly infatuated and obsessive.

No matter what you did to them, they would always seem to look at you with love and admiration. You could basically insult all of them and they would accept it with a ‘thank you’. Nothing you did, could ever make them hate you.

Bullying was an extreme issue in your harem. No matter where you went there were always green tea bitches, white lotuses, and cunning foxes trying to bring someone down in your eyes. It’s even worse if they're new, having barely any awareness of what is happening, they definitely need to be more careful. No matter where you go at least three of them are stuck to your side. You’re alone time is basically nonexistent and extinct.

With teary eyes one of your concubines shout, “My lord, please help me! I’m being bullied by the others in the harem!” If you were being honest, you absolutely did not care about what was going on and one hundred percent knew that she was just using a manipulation tactic. However, to avoid the incoming headache you begin to console her and tell her that you’ll have a talk with everyone. You then decide to give her what she wanted and guide her towards your bedroom chambers. As you both leave she quickly looks at the faces of the others and sticks her tounge out. There was a look of absolute rage on their faces and with that they all had the same unanimous thought in their head.

“I’m totally going to get that bitch back for this!!!”

Pt.2

[shisabun]

Before I start, I just want to say thank you to the husbands, brothers, and fathers who voted to support their daughters, sisters, and wives. What I'm about to say doesn't include you.

To the women who voted for Trump, you are a disgrace. Thanks to you, your children and grandchildren will be forced to fight the war that was won by your grandmothers.

You sit content and joyful while others mourn. You laugh in the face of their fears when there's a knife floating above your head poised to fall. You have no idea what's coming, but any woman with half a braincell does.

Let me tell you a story. My great aunt was basically my grandmother. She was born in the 1930s in Spain. Right after their revolution. Right after Spain became a dictatorship. She told me so many stories in her final years that I'll keep with me for the rest of my life. But I'll give one example.

One of her closest friends married young. Her husband claimed she was unfaithful and literally beat her to death. He was never arrested. He was never convinced. He walked away free and remarried in less than a month. Catholicism wouldn't allow divorce back then. He wanted to get remarried and simply got away with it because he was a cop. Franco gave cops full impunity. So does Project 2025.

I know some people reading this are rolling their eyes, and you know what?

Fuck. You. You are trash.

That girl was murdered at 20, and her killer walked free after openingly admitting it. My Tia never told me her name, but she carried her in her heart until the day she died at 98. And so do I.

To my fellow women who are mourning and scared right now, I'll give you the same advice my mother gave me. "Have your cry. Then get up and get things done. You're strong enough not to have this break you."

You are Mary and Esther. You are Caterina Sforza. You are Princess Diana. You are Anna May Wong. You are the living legacy of every woman who has come before you. You carry their strength, their courage, and their determination.

This shit is going to suck. Pure and simple. But we'll do what we've always done. We'll bite and claw our way to a better future. We'll tear down every obstacle so our children and grandchildren will have an easier path to walk.

We are dragons in human form. Steel your heart and give them nothing. Do not give them your affection, your care, or your bodies. Fuck being demure and mindful. When they spew hate, you spit fire. When they ask for your smile, you give them your fangs. Become a walking inferno that they have no choice but to take note of. Do not yield.

You are powerful, and you are not alone. You are a sister in a coven that is millions strong. You are the daughters of the witches they couldn't burn.

To my fellow Millennials. I know you're tired. Our young adult lives were stolen from us, and we've been struggling uphill ever since. But do what the previous generation never did for us. Fight. Fight for the ones that are entering adulthood. Fight for the children who have no idea what they're about to grow into.

They called us snowflakes for pointing out their flaws. Fine. Let's give them a fucking blizzard. If they try to build momentum, we stop them. We are at the age where we need to be both shield and anchor. Let. Nothing. Pass.

We're about to face an orange shitstorm of epic proportions. But we'll do as we've always done. We fight, we endure, and we win. In the words of Samwise Gamgee, "There's good in this world, and it's worth fighting for."

[justaz]

ygraine gives birth to a quiet child. the babe does not scream, cry, or wail when it is born. one of the midwives take the bloody babe and holds it against her chest and she rubs its back and urges it to breathe. gaius is hidden beneath her dress and he tends to her wounds that sap her strength with every gush of blood. nimueh sits beside her, holding her hand as she takes in gasping breaths, recovering from the painful and exhausting ordeal of birthing a child. nimueh’s hand is running through her hair as she whispers praises in her ear that she cannot hear.

the room begins to darken as she leans against nimueh. her vision tunnels to a golden scene hovering in the air above her. she sees a young man with golden hair and bright blue eyes. he sits atop a throne with a golden crown nestled on his head. beside him is a figure that is obscured, their features hidden from her view but she can tell they are powerful. the image in the air shifts between the two people, flipping like a coin in the air, the golden king on one side and the cloaked figure on the other. the coin slowly picks up speed until the two figures blur together.

from the distorted image, three women appear and whisper a prophecy to her, a familiar one that has been told for millennia - more a fairy tale now than the words of a seer. as the women speak each line of the prophecy, one after the other, their voices combine into one as they whisper to her “behold the once and future king, arthur pendragon”

“do you see that?” she feels herself mumble as the three women disappear and the coin begins to slow once more. the two men come back into view, now side by side, “oh, its beautiful,” she murmurs, “look at him, nimueh. my son, my son…so beautiful.” arthur shifts his gaze to meet her own and suddenly the golden visage begins to rot. his regal robes fall apart, his crown rusts, the castle around him begins to decay and collapse into rubble.

arthur begins to cry like a child, unfitting for a man of his age. he shrinks to a young boy, perhaps seven, and stands next to his father, uther, as he addresses a crowd. he stands tall and proud though it is clear something has happened. his expression is cold and unfeeling until his gaze shifts down to someone in the square and pure hatred fills his eyes. the vision moves back and allows ygraine to watch as a young woman is tied to a pyre, screaming and crying and begging and pleading for her life.

“this woman has been found guilty for the crime of sorcery,” uther’s voice commands attention though his words make no sense to her. sorcery a crime? what nonsense. uther continues, “for such a crime, the punishment is and will always be death.” he nods down at the executioner who ushers forward and lights the wood of the pyre. knights follow suit and soon the woman is screaming in agony as flames engulf her.

arthur lowers his head and averts his gaze but uther grabs his chin and pulls his face up, “watch,” he orders him, “they killed your mother. they deserve this.” young arthur has tears in his eyes but he does not let them fall. he squares his shoulders and stares down at the woman as she is burnt to a crisp. when the screaming finally stops, young arthur shifts his gaze up to hers.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, “please, save me.”

ygraine can hear her cries as the vision dissipates, her wails and denials. nimueh holds her close and whispers how she needs patience, her child will breathe yet. ygraine feels even more of her strength sap away and she understands. the deal uther made with nimueh, it called for a death to create a life. she knows now that it is her life that will be reaped in exchange. she does not have time to weep.

she turns to nimueh, “protect him,” she squeezes her hand, “you have to protect him.” she pleads. nimueh does not understand. how could she? ygraine squeezes her hand harder than she had in childbirth, “promise me, nimueh. you won’t let uther corrupt him. you won’t let him harm my son.” nimueh looks down at gaius who peeks over her dress, sorrow in his gaze and shakes his head. ygraine sobs once more, “promise me, nimueh!”

the high priestess turns back to her, “i promise, my lady, but rest assured king uther will not harm a hair on your child’s head.”

ygraine shakes her head, her body has gone numb, “you don’t understand. he will never be the same. you have to protect him. you have to protect arthur.”

nimueh nods, her expression trouble, “i promise, ygraine. i will protect arthur.”

ygraine smiles through her tears, the pain and sorrow fading as she grew weaker. nimueh’s expression grows panicked but the last thing she hears is her beautiful son’s cries.

nimueh didn’t understand ygraine’s wish until uther learned of his wife’s fate. she had expected sobbing, falling to his knees, or begging the gods. she didn’t expect the rage, though it was understandable, and she definitely didn’t expect the vitriol he spat at her, blaming her for ygraine’s passing. despite the protests that fell from her lips, she knew he was right. it was her magic from a deal she offered him that took her life.

her magic claimed ygraine’s life in her chambers. she held her in her arms as she died and could do nothing to save her. the last thing she saw when she died was nimueh, helpless to do anything to stop what she had put in motion.

uther called for his guards to round up all magic users and have them punished. gaius, a man who was always a bit selfish, surrendered to uther, denounced sorcery and magic and was forgiven for his past “treachery”. when he turned to nimueh, she knew even if she had denounced magic, he would never forgive her for what happened. he ordered his guards to have her taken to the dungeons in cold iron and spat that she would burn in the morning.

it didn’t take much magic to disappear from the throne room and reappear out in the halls. she strode through the castle up to the nursery where little arthur was to reside. something in uther shattered in that room, he cursed magic users and called them monsters, beasts meant to be hunted and killed. she wouldn’t know if he truly meant to go through with it until the first execution but she was not waiting that long.

ygraine’s last wish had been for her to protect arthur, to protect him from his father. when she had said that, she had assumed the queen was delirious from pain and blood loss. now she understood. the triple goddess had blessed her with knowledge before her passing. and with that knowledge, she begged nimueh to protect arthur from uther. nimueh would not wait until it was too late, she would not sit back and let fate have it’s way, she would not let ygraine down again.

nimueh greeted the wetnurse with a smile. the woman smiled kindly up at her and she politely requested arthur and asked her to leave. the woman was hesitant but a subtle spell over her mind guided her out and away from the room. nimueh stared down at little arthur’s face. he had thin strands of white hair that was sure to thicken and darken as he grew. he had ygraine’s nose and lips. when he blinked his eyes open it was like she was staring down at the late queen.

the sound of guards pounding down the hall alerted her of her precarious situation once more and she did not waste another second before fleeing. she held arthur tight to her chest as she fled the castle and wormed her way through the citadel. no one looked twice at her, the average citizen unaware that their queen had had a child and died just that morning.

nimueh traveled as fast as she could back to her island. she warned her sisters that resided on the island of what uther meant to do. they did not take his threats seriously until they scried and saw uther slaughtering hundreds of magic users in the coming weeks. nimueh and her sisters helped raise arthur until an attack was launched on the isle itself. she and arthur remained under the castle while the other high priestesses fought back against the armies storming their home. one of her sisters stumbled down into the room, beaten and bloodied.

“they’ve won,” she slurred, “the isle of the blessed has fallen. you must go, protect the child. do not let him fall into uther’s hands.” she cast her magic to form a gateway for nimueh and arthur, “i do not have much strength to hold this, sister. go now.” nimueh left her home behind. she heard two weeks later that the castle had been burnt and crumbled to rubble.

nimueh and arthur traveled the land, hopping from place to place and never settling for long as camelot knights were soon to follow. arthur grew quicker than she thought possible and she knew she had to settle down somewhere, yet she knew that if she were to settle in a village or town, it would only be a matter of time before camelot found them.

it took time and energy and lots of magic, but she created a cottage in the woods, hidden by wards to divert any visitors. she and arthur both learned to live off the land, to grow what they needed and survive on their own. he always found her magic fascinating and loved to watch her cast spells. since he was born from a deal she made, his very being was fused together with her own magic, marking him as hers.

he called her mama and she called him son. she told him of his other mother, ygraine, of how she gave birth to him but perished before she could meet him. she told him that she knew ygraine was proud of him because she was proud of him. arthur always wished to explore the world outside of their haven but nimueh’s paranoia kept him close.

it wasn’t until one day when arthur was ten that something changed. nimueh had been on her way out to tend to their crops when she heard arthur laughing and playing. she smiled to herself as she continued on her way. until she heard another voice, a higher voice belonging to what sounded like a child.

nimueh dropped her tools and rushed around the lawn to find arthur on the edge of their haven playing with a boy a couple of years younger than him with a mop of black hair and wide blue eyes. the boy was also inside their haven. he had gotten past her wards. he was dangerous. nimueh dashed forward and grabbed arthur, tugging him behind her as she assessed the boy. arthur complained behind her and begged her to let him stay. the boy stood up on shaky legs and didn’t bother dusting off his trousers.

“hi!” he waved a hand, a goofy smile on his face, “my mom’s busy at the market so i came to play in the woods. arthur and i were just about to play will and i’s favorite game, knight and princess. will always makes me be the princess but arthur wanted to be the princess this time so i really, really, really wanna play with him. do you wanna join? you can be…the dragon guarding the princess!! oh, you already are. are we playing now? hold on, let me get a stick so i can-“

“who are you?” nimueh finally cut off his rambling. she wasn’t sure how a child, or anyone for that matter, could talk so fast and endlessly without taking a breath. her fear eased as she recognized that he truly was just a child, but she still remained wary as he had somehow found his way past her wardings.

“oh, sorry! my mom always says i have to be more polite but i always am so i never understand what she means.” he blinked and shook his head before grinning up at her, showing off his missing tooth in the top corner of his mouth, “i’m merlin!”

[official-cvntified-gay]

Hi babesssss

How about Sub!AD and Dom!Reader?

(Im a sucker for sub alcina-)

Well anyways thats all really lol, i can't think of anything else since my brain is toasted rn

💞💞💞thankssssss

Let Go

⋆˚࿔ ugh, something about a powerful woman giving up control is scrumdillyyumyum, thank you for this request my darling anon<3

The dim light of the moon filtered through the grand windows of your shared bedroom with Alcina, casting a soft glow across the stone walls. The air was still, save for the crackling of the fireplace that sent warm flickers of light dancing across the room. Alcina stood by the window, her tall frame poised but weary, her usual confident presence seeming smaller in the dimness of the late night. She was tired—not just physically, but emotionally. The day had worn her down, the weight of her duties, the expectations of Mother Miranda, and the constant need to be strong pressing heavily on her shoulders.

You watched her from the bed, sensing the shift in her mood, knowing what she needed before she even spoke. There was a fragility to Alcina in these moments, a quiet vulnerability she rarely allowed anyone to see, and it was in these moments that she let down the walls she so carefully constructed.

“Alcina, my love” you called softly, your voice a gentle invitation. She turned toward you, her golden eyes meeting yours, and you saw the hesitation in her gaze—the brief flicker of uncertainty that passed over her features. She always had to be in control, always had to be the one who led. But tonight, you could see it in her eyes: she didn’t want that. Not now.

She needed release, and you were more than willing to give it to her.

With a soft sigh, Alcina crossed the room, her towering form looming above you as she stood beside the bed. Her hands moved to the hem of her gown, her long, elegant fingers pausing for a moment as if she were debating whether to undress herself. You reached up, placing your hand gently over hers, stopping her movement. Her eyes flicked to yours, searching for something, and you gave her a soft smile.

“Let me,” you whispered, your tone gentle but firm.

Alcina hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, her breath hitching slightly as she relinquished control. It was subtle, the way she shifted her weight, the way her shoulders relaxed just a fraction as she allowed you to take the lead.

You stood from the bed, your hands moving to the delicate straps of her gown, carefully sliding them down her shoulders. Alcina shivered beneath your touch, a rare show of vulnerability from the woman who was always so composed. You kissed her broad shoulders to help her loosen up. The fabric slipped down her body, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing before you, exposed and raw.

For a moment, you simply took her in, admiring the way the soft moonlight caressed her skin, casting shadows across her sharp features and accentuating the strength and elegance of her body. She was stunning, powerful even in her submission, and it took your breath away.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, your hands moving to her hips, pulling her gently toward the bed. She followed your lead without resistance, her breath quickening as you guided her to lie down on the soft sheets. You could see the tension in her body, the way she was trying to hold on to control even as she surrendered it to you.

“Relax,” you whispered as you climbed on top of her, your hands moving to caress the length of her arms. “You don’t have to be strong right now. Not here.”

Alcina’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she let your words wash over her. Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her, and you could feel her slowly unwinding, the tension leaving her body bit by bit.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her neck, feeling the way her pulse quickened beneath your lips. She tilted her head back, giving you more access, and you took your time, trailing kisses down the elegant curve of her throat, savoring the soft gasps that escaped her as your lips grazed her skin.

Your hands wandered down her body, tracing the lines of her figure, memorizing every curve, every inch of her that was now yours to explore. Alcina’s breath hitched as your fingers brushed over the swell of her breasts, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way her body responded to your touch, so eager despite her usual composure.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered against her skin, your voice low and husky, a gentle command that you knew she wouldn’t be able to resist.

Alcina’s eyes opened, her golden gaze locking onto yours, dark with desire. “I want… I want to feel you,” she breathed, her voice soft but filled with need. “I want you to take me.”

There it was—the admission of surrender, the vulnerability that she only allowed you to see. It made your heart swell with love and desire, knowing that she trusted you enough to let go like this.

You leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, slow kiss, pouring all of your love and adoration into that single moment. Alcina responded with a quiet moan, her hands moving to grip your back, pulling you closer as her body arched into yours.

“Good girl,” you murmured against her lips, and the sound of those words made her shudder beneath you. Your fingers leaving trail of goosebumps as you trace her thighs, you gave her clit a few teasing circles that rewarded you into hearing her grunted moans and sighs.

You took your time with her, savoring every moment, every gasp, every whispered plea that fell from her lips. Your hands moved with practiced ease inside her pussy, teasing and exploring, drawing out her pleasure until she was trembling beneath you, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “That’s it, let go for me.” you coo at her, not resisting the urge to kiss her fervor.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice broken with need against yours. “Please… I can’t take it anymore.”

You smiled against her lips, loving the way she begged for you, the way she had completely given herself over to you. You moved lower, your lips trailing down her body until you reached the apex of her thighs, and Alcina gasped, her hands tangling in the sheets as she fought to maintain control.

But tonight, control wasn’t hers to keep. And you were going to make sure she knew it.

You took her slowly, methodically, your tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony to bring her to the edge again and again. Alcina’s moans filled the room, her body writhing beneath you as she chased her release, but you held her there, teasing her, drawing out her pleasure until she was begging for mercy.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice hoarse from crying out. “Please, I can’t—”

“Let go,” you whispered, your breath hot against her skin. “Let me take care of you.”

And with those words, Alcina finally shattered, her body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over her. You stayed with her through it, guiding her, holding her, until she finally collapsed back onto the bed, her chest rising and falling with deep, ragged breaths.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled with the sound of her breathing and the crackle of the fire. Then, slowly, Alcina opened her eyes, her gaze soft and filled with a kind of quiet awe as she looked up at you.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the sincerity in her words was unmistakable.

You smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Always.”

[gothamhappiness]

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Reader's origin story

When I started this new Batman obsession, I soooo needed to get this out of my system, so I wrote and wrote and wrote. I figured I could share this with you.

I start with reader's origin story because some stuff will be hinted througout the series (10 parts so far) and because it explains some of her reactions.

Just so you know, it's afab!reader, but there is absolutely NO description of her, and nothing in her backstory says she is white. But as a white girl myself, if I missed something, PLEASE LET ME KNOW and send me a DM. I really want you all to enjoy some Bruce Wayne x reader, no matter who you are or what you look like!!

That being said, enjoy <3

Warnings: no proof reading, awful childhood with toxic parents, mentions of death and violence, reader has a negative image of Batman

You were coming from the poorest neighbourhood of Gotham. The most dangerous one as well: the Narrows.

You had been lucky to climb the social ladder thanks to your grandma who loved you more than anything and absolutely wanted you to study abroad. She wanted better for you. She wanted you to meet your true potential. She always said that if she - as well as your mother - had been a little more educated, they would have been women of power. And more importantly, they would have been women of freedom. By now, it was too late for her and for her daughter, but it was not too late for you. She decided to sacrifice everything she had to give you what the women of the family never had before.

By allowing you to get an education, she also saved you from a very dark family. She saved you from your father, who used to be a gangster closely working with Don Falcone and to be friends with Victor Zsasz. Your father ended in jail before dying there. 

It was what people said at least. 

Your mother didn’t know if he had been killed there or if he killed himself. Either way, she was relieved this monster was now gone from her existence. But you knew the truth: you were 16 when this happened, and you had known your father very well. You had followed him for all those years, like his shadow. He used you as a right hand because you were his favourite kid. It meant you knew Don Falcone personally. So when your father “died”, you knew better than to believe it. You went to the Roman, and you asked him to open the coffin after the funeral, just to make sure if all of this was true or not. You weren’t too surprised when you found rocks instead of a body. Don Falcone offered to work for him because you had potential indeed.

But you declined when your grandmother insisted for you to get an education. You had been at a crossroad: you could have started the life of a gangster or you could have been something else. Still now, you wondered what gave you the strength to be something else.

About your father, you never heard about him so far, and you were grateful about it. You had realised as you grew up that he was using you because you were a smart and silent kid. You knew how to behave with dangerous people: you never let anyone or anything intimidate you. When you weren’t with your father, you were reading books, so you quickly learnt to have a way with words and to read people as well. 

You guessed it was still useful now, and you hated it that it was all thanks to your father. At least, your grandma offered you another life, and you would forever be grateful for that. You couldn’t blame your own mother who never loved you - you looked way too much like your father. She was a mess who ran away when your father disappeared, so you really only had your grandma left to take care of you.

You went aboard. You went to England and you studied. You studied hard to the point of becoming a top student in college and then in university.

You understood what it was to be free indeed. You enjoyed your life away from Gotham, and you weren’t too sure if you would ever go back there.

However, after your graduation, your grandma’s health started to go down. Your mother didn’t want to go back to Gotham to take care of her, and your grandma didn’t want to leave Gotham because it had been her home her whole life. She also strongly believed that if people like Batman were fighting for the city, she couldn’t go away and seem ungrateful. You tried to convince her that Batman probably didn’t care, but she was stubborn.

At that time, Batman was so young and so fresh. People didn’t know if they should like him or not. You didn’t particularly like him. You weren’t too sure to understand why he was doing what he was doing. Most importantly, you felt like he was taking care of the big villains and letting most of the population of Gotham alone. The man clearly didn’t come from the Narrows and he couldn’t understand that if more than half of the neighbourhood population was working for the big villains as goons was because they didn’t have any other choice. You heard about his “gadgets” and you thought that all this money could have bought a school in the Narrows. Or a hospital. Or anything else useful.

Sometimes, you felt like you were being a little bit harsh on the Bat; at least someone fought against Don Falcone. You knew what the Roman was capable of, and yeah, maybe Batman was better than you wanted to admit it.

You ended up coming back to Gotham so you could take care of your grandma. She loved you even more for that, even if she didn’t want you to ruin your career for her. You easily found a job and slowly but surely went higher in society. You were good with words. You were good at getting people to do what you wanted, and more importantly, you were good at getting people to tell you their darkest secrets. You were doing well. You were happy to be back in Gotham, actually. It was your home too.

Years went by, and new vigilantes arrived, disappeared, and came back. Only Batman was always there. You still weren’t a big fan of him, even if you could admit he was clearly doing his best for the city. You preferred the new guy in town, though: Red Hood. He was taking care of things, and he also had the reputation to protect the kids and the civilians.

Your grandma was very excited when she learnt you were both living in his “territory”. You actually met him one night. He seemed to be looking around. When he spotted you, he walked to you.

“Hello, ma'am. Is everything alright? Do you need someone to get you home safely? This isn’t a very safe place right now. An asshole hid bombs everywhere around here.” he had told you, and you were a little bit surprised after everything you heard about him.

He was known to be a Crime Lord and to be some sort of enemy to Batman, but not really one either.

“I have lived here since forever. I’m all good, thank you” you replied with a smile “Thank you for being around” you said

“Oh well, you really shouldn’t thank me.” he hummed, clearly taken aback. 

He wasn’t used to people thanking him for anything

“On the contrary, finally, someone is doing something. Not like Batman. Hope you’ll stick around” you added

“Ok, let me bring you to your building, at least.” Red Hood insisted, and you agreed. 

You didn’t know why, but you felt you could trust him.

You weren’t an investigative journalist at that time, but later, you would write in favour of Red Hood… and quite in disfavour of Wayne Enterprises and his CEO.

When your grandma died, you took care of her funeral and of her flat, on your own. You gave the key back to find your own place. It was smaller, but at least you weren’t in the Narrows anymore. You stayed close to Red Hood’s territory, though. You never thought about leaving Gotham again, even if the Daily Planet offered you a job in Metropolis. You needed to stay in Gotham. She was your home, and you wanted to fight for her.

Another decade went by and even if you did good - everyone was reading your articles and knowing your name (without knowing your face) - you clearly had never thought you would go to one of those charity galas hosted by the popular Bruce Wayne.

You were currently writing for an independent and political newspaper of Gotham. Bruce Wayne was often criticised in it, which was one of the only media to do so. Bruce Wayne had offered someone to come over so they could see he had nothing to hide and that his charity galas had real purposes.

You had been chosen among the journalists because they knew you wouldn’t be naïve enough to believe everything the man would tell you.

You had no idea this gala would change your life.

And Bruce’s as well.

--

PART 1

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

Tairn taking care of Violet appreciation post:

Because "No rider has ever survived the loss of their dragon. I can’t imagine wanting to." & also "A dragon without its rider is a tragedy"… and Tairn knows; he is the only living being to come close to understanding what Violet is going through… because he lost his rider and that loss nearly killed him.

— It’s why he told her she must survive after her mother died. "You are alive. You will live today. You will wake tomorrow."

— It’s why he reminds her over and over; she is his last rider, this is their life, he won’t lose her to it, he will not live with that. "I chose you not as my next, but as my last, and should you fall, then I will follow."

— It’s why he forces her to breathe. "You will breathe." … He’s the only one that can… Tairn knows. Tairn exists. Tairn makes sure she is not alone, and you hear it in the following quotes… almost like a debate to her inner monologue… actually quite literally that; he is cancelling it out.

Violet is losing her vision: "The sky darkens, and the ground trembles. I look up into the black void, and my vision narrows in an ever-shrinking circle." — Violet sees him instead. "Not the sky. A wing." — Piercing through to her. "Stern, demanding golden eyes appear." — Demanding to be seen.

Violet cannot breathe without her: "It’s gone. A breath later, so is she. A roar vibrates my very bones, and my ears ring as the edges of my vision darken. My heart stutters, and my lungs cease their struggle. There's no air and no reason to seek it. I was infinite yet moored, and now I'm hollow and adrift in waters too vast to comprehend." Tairn uses his power, demands, controls her to breathe and live so this does not kill her: "You will breathe!" His deep, gravelly voice fills my head, and unyielding strength barrels down the pathway that connects us."

Violet is nothing: "I’m nothing." Tairn exists, so she exists, so she cannot be nothing: "He exists, therefore I must, because we are bound. Never alone. Always connected."

Violet says: "She left us. She left us. She left us. It's all I can think." — Tairn interjects, reminds, demands her to stay and remember that & that not everyone left: "We remain," Tairn orders, as if I have a choice not to."

"Andarna is gone. But I’m never alone." — he never lets her be alone. Not for one moment… It’s why it changes from “left” from that abandonment, and a vague “she” summary, to “Andarna” and “gone”, it now sounds less like everyone and a summary of every loss (even if this one hurts more than any).

"Tairn leaves our bond wide open, giving me unfettered access to him in a way l've never had. He's always been with me, but now I'm with him, too. I hear his side of the conversation when he tells the elders about Andarna's departure. I hear him bickering with Sgaeyl over what he calls her excessive hovering, and I'm privy to the lecture he gives Xaden about making sure I eat." — he lets her in like no one else or any dragon rule (I imagine at least) would allow. Even letting her see him coddling, scolding, caring, protecting; making sure she eats. Being whatever she needs to keep breathing… and she is breathing.

"I exist for Tairn, but I live for Xaden." — and he doesn’t care what it takes, even with his current disdain for Xaden; if it keeps her alive he doesn’t care. "The emptiness threatens to overwhelm me again, — he doesn’t let it overwhelm her, he lends her strength (and presumably enough power to also survive it) — but Tairn inundates the bond with a deluge of defiance and indignation. "Focus on now, on him if you have to." — and she does have them to focus on — I still have both of them: Tairn and Xaden."

[tired-truffle]

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 7.4k

Epilogue

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt @dedicated2viktor

"When the rest of the world won't have you, I will. Let your worries and insecurities die against my lips. Remember, you are welcome here. You are always, always welcome here." - Maxwell Diawuoh

Masterlist

“Mommy,” the little girl said as her mother tucked her into bed. “Can you tell me the story of Miláček and Viktor tonight?”

Her mother smiled, seating herself on the side of the girl’s bed, her fingers trailing across her daughter’s cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.” 

The girl leaned into her mother’s touch, and she began. “A long, long time ago, the goddess Miláček was a mortal woman with extraordinary but uncontrollable magic. It is said that she came from another universe, and the strength of her love for Viktor drew her across space and time to be with him.” 

“How did she love him if she didn’t know him yet?” The little girl interrupted. 

Her mother chuckled. “Some things are just meant to be.” 

When her daughter remained silent, she continued. “Their love was a force that transcended words, pure and unbreakable. But as their love grew, Viktor got sick and his body began to weaken and wither away. Despite Miláček’s ability to see the future and her powerful magic, she was unable to stop his decline. In a fit of desperation, they turned to dark forces to ensure he would live. It cost them the life of a dear friend and left them unprepared for an attack that would start a war between the upper and lower cities - nearly claiming Miláček’s life. As she had been desperate to save him, so was he to save her. He brought her to a man renowned for his barbaric practices, and she lived at the cost of her sanity.”

“Fleeing together, they carved out a home in the far reaches of the lower city. With Viktor's newfound powers, they found some semblance of happiness as he used his abilities to heal those who sought his help. But the high price of harnessing dark forces to keep Viktor alive began to take its toll. He became corrupted by their power and if left unchecked, would have brought about the destruction of the world in his relentless pursuit of perfection.”

“Viktor had transformed into something unrecognizable; the Machine Herald. In this new form, he left Miláček behind, consumed by his obsession with ridding the world of choice and eradicating emotion to achieve a false sense of peace. But Miláček refused to give up on him. Though he was too far gone in this plane, she could absorb the arcane, and willingly gave up her life to save him in death.” 

“She became the goddess of the afterlife,” the little girl said smugly, pleased that she knew that key fact. 

“That she did.” Her mother stroked her hair. “With the arcane power that she absorbed, she was able to save Viktor’s soul and create an afterlife for all the other lost souls stuck in the nothingness that was death. One day, she’ll bring your soul to rest there as well.”

The girl frowned, disliking the idea of death at all, even if it was peaceful. “What about the bad people? When they die do they go there too?” 

Her mother nodded. “Even the bad people, everyone gets a chance to atone and rest, but only if they are willing.”

*~*~*

What had started as a small group had grown at an exponential rate. Souls started to gather at your sanctuary and you expanded, growing more land and homes for them to stay in. You felt their presence like a million pinpricks of light, each soul a unique constellation in your ever-expanding universe. Your consciousness stretched across the sanctuary, a vast network of awareness that allowed you to peer into every nook and cranny. You saw the newly arrived souls, wide-eyed and trembling, as they took their first steps into this strange new world. You heard the laughter of those who had found peace, their joy rippling through the air like a summer breeze.

But not all was serene. In the eastern quarter, a heated argument erupted between two souls over a trivial matter. You gently nudged their thoughts, soothing their anger and reminding them of the sanctuary's purpose. The conflict dissipated like morning mist under the sun.

At the borders, you sensed a dark, roiling presence - a soul so twisted by hatred and fear that it would poison everything around it. With a heavy heart, you reinforced the boundaries, denying it entry. Some souls were beyond your help, at least for now.

In the misty forests to the north, you felt a faint, confused energy. A lost soul, unable to find its way. You reached out, your essence forming a glowing path that only they could see, guiding them home.

Near the tranquil lake, an ancient soul flickered weakly, its sense of self barely a whisper. You enveloped it in warmth, offering a choice. The soul's relief was barefaced as it chose to let go, merging with the roots of an old willow tree. Its contentment hummed through the leaves, a soft lullaby for the younger souls nearby. There had been many souls who’d met a similar fate, to old to remember who they were, more than happy to become one with nature, to find peace.

It was as easy to you as breathing, all tasks able to be accomplished simultaneously without conscious thought. It allowed you to stay you, to focus on those you cared for most - your main consciousness remained with your loved ones. You didn't perceive them as pinpricks of light or constellations like the other souls, but as the flesh-and-blood people you remembered.

“Ah, Mila?” Vander’s gruff voice spoke up from behind you. You turned to him, his brows furrowed and his lips set in a thin line. “Do you have a minute?” 

It was strange to see him like this after weeks of swimming through his emotions and knowing him as a half-beast half-man creature. He was so…normal, in comparison. 

You nodded once and turned back to Sky, your game of tik-tac-toe half-finished in the dirt. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” 

Sky smiled at you, inclining her head. “You know where to find me.” 

You followed Vander to the shade of a towering silver tree, its leaves shimmering like liquid moonlight in the gentle breeze. The bark was smooth and cool to the touch, almost metallic in texture. As you leaned against it, you felt a faint hum of energy coursing through the trunk.

Vander cleared his throat, his weathered hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The movement was so uncharacteristic of the usually stoic man that it had you feeling wary. But you waited, giving him time to gather his thoughts.

“I have no right to ask you this after everything you’ve done for us,” he started, his fists clenching at his sides, “but I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“This is about Silco, right?” You’d been wondering when he’d come up, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it too.

Vander nodded, jaw tight. “As much as I hate what he did to Zaun and…my daughters,” a sore spot for him, you could feel it rolling off him in waves of anger, “he never gave up on our dream; independence for our home. And he raised Powder. While I disagree with his methods, he treated her like one of his own when I couldn’t be there for her.” 

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’ve got enough on your plate and I don’t want to add more, but he’s just…floating out there. Knowing him he’s miserable and blaming himself for everything. We all made mistakes in the war with Piltover, and I blame myself for turning him away. I’d like to right that wrong, if you’d allow it.” 

“You’d like me to bring his soul here?” 

“I would be responsible for him,” Vander added, “like I said, you’re busy enough.”

“Well, there are no weapons here, or Shimmer, and even if there were it’s not like he could kill anybody,” you said consideringly. “Sure, why not? I’ll go find his soul and set you two up with a private space. You’ll be able to come and go as you please but he won’t until you feel he’s ready to be out among the rest of us. And if you need any help I’m here, I’m not as busy as I look.”

Vander’s face softened, hope filling his eyes as the tension eased from his shoulders. “Really? Just like that?”

You grinned, wide and all-knowing, your hair floating around you. “I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while. Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, if they want it. And I saw what he meant to you, how much your fight weighs on you. I want you to be able to rest knowing you did everything you could to reach him.” 

"Thank you," Vander said, his voice thick. "You don't know what this means to me."

You reached out, placing a hand on Vander's shoulder. For a fleeting second, you caught a glimpse of the tangled web of relationships that defined Vander's life - threads of gold linking him to his adopted children, a frayed but unbroken cord stretching towards Silco.

"I'll begin the search immediately," you assured him, and you weren’t one to break a promise.

Despite initial doubts, Silco's progress surpassed all expectations. In what would have been a few months in Runeterra time, he ventured out amongst the other souls, closely monitored by Vander. Each small step taken settled a long-tormented piece of Vander's soul, bringing a sense of peace that he never would have rested otherwise.

*~*~*

“Who else is with Miláček and Viktor?” The girl asked, though she already knew the answer. Whether she was delaying her bedtime or honestly interested in hearing the story remained to be seen. 

Her mother would indulge her, for now. “The friend they lost in their attempts to save Viktor’s life was a guiding force for Miláček, and she joined them in the afterlife.”

*~*~*

You found Sky lounging by a pond, her toes dipping into the water that sparkled like liquid starlight. As you approached, she looked up with a smile that could outshine the sun.

"There you are! I was starting to think you'd forgotten about our rendezvous," Sky teased, patting the soft grass beside her.

You settled down, your legs tucked beneath you. "As if I could ever forget you," you replied, bumping her shoulder playfully.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching as fish darted through the water, leaving trails of glowing bubbles behind them.

Sky leaned back on her elbows, her wild curls catching the light. "You know, I never thought the afterlife would be so...peaceful. I always imagined it'd be one big party, celebrate for eternity and all that."

You laughed. "Who says it can't be both?" With a wave of your hand, upbeat music began to play, seemingly emanating from nowhere and everywhere.

Sky's eyes widened in delight. "Show-off," she said, but her grin betrayed her amusement. She stood up, offering you her hand. "Care to dance, oh mighty goddess of the afterlife?"

You took her hand, allowing her to pull you to your feet. As you began to sway to the music, your feet barely touching the ground, you felt a surge of joy. It had been so long since you'd allowed yourself this simple pleasure, to just be in the moment with a friend.

"I missed this," you admitted. "I missed you."

Sky's grin softened. "I missed you too, Mila." She spun you around, your laughter mingling with the music. "But we're here now, together. And we've got all of eternity to catch up."

*~*~*

“There was also their friend who died ending the war. He and Viktor had been in conflict in life, but in death, they mended those bridges.” 

*~*~*

Once Jayce had been ready, weeks after they had settled, he’d joined Viktor for what must have been days as they hashed out their issues. While you didn’t listen in, you had an awareness of their conversation, there was only so much privacy you could give when their existence was tied to your consciousness. They spoke of the past, of the rift that had grown between them. Their words flowed like a stream, sometimes rushing and turbulent, other times slow and contemplative. All streams inevitably come to an end, and understanding bloomed between them like the wildflowers at their feet. You felt the shift in the air, the easing of tension, and you knew they would be alright.

Of course, Jayce jumped right back into being himself. As soon as he returned, arm slung around Viktor’s shoulders, he’d insisted you and Sky join them at a campfire. Though surprised that Viktor had agreed, you were remiss to miss an opportunity to spend time with your friends - like how it had been before everything went to shit.

You gathered around the crackling fire, its warm glow casting shifting shadows across your face. Jayce had insisted on building it himself, regaling you with tales of camping trips with his mother as he expertly stacked the logs. The flames licked at the evening sky, sending sparks spiralling upward to join the ever-present stars.

Viktor sat beside you, his legs stretched out before him. On your other side, Sky lounged on a bed of impossibly soft moss that seemed to have sprouted just for her comfort. Jayce stood nearby, proudly surveying his handiwork, before settling down to complete your circle.

"I must admit," Viktor said. "I never thought I'd find myself enjoying something as…primitive as a campfire. The Undercity had garbage bin fires, but I would hardly count that as an enjoyable experience."

Jayce chuckled, reaching for a long stick to poke at the embers. "There's something primal about fire, something that speaks to the soul."

"Or maybe," Sky interjected with a mischievous grin, "you just like playing with sticks and pretending to be useful."

You laughed as Jayce feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically. The banter flowed easily between them, years of tension and misunderstanding washed away by the healing waters of the afterlife.

As the night deepened, you found yourself leaning against Viktor, his arm draped comfortably around your waist. Sky regaled you with increasingly outlandish stories of her adventures in the sanctuary, each tale more impossible than the last - you would be sure to check on the cavern filled with massive bats, no good could come of that. Jayce, not to be outdone, countered with his own exaggerated exploits.

This was what you had fought for, what you had sacrificed everything to create - a place where souls could find rest, where old wounds could heal, and where love could flourish unbound by the constraints of mortality.

As if sensing your thoughts, Viktor squeezed your hip gently. You turned to meet his gaze, seeing in his eyes the same contentment that filled your heart. No words were needed; in that look, you shared a lifetime of understanding.

*~*~*

“And then there was Miláček’s mother. Though her soul had been scattered to the far reaches of the universe when Viktor, in his conquest, burned her soul out of her body, Miláček never stopped looking.”

“Did she find her mommy?” The girl asked, clutching her sheets tight to her chest. To be without her mother was simply unthinkable. 

Her mother placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “She did.”

*~*~*

Not everything was perfect, getting used to your abilities had taken time and had caused many a headache as you learned how to shut out the thoughts and feelings of thousands of souls. Viktor was still healing, he had good days where he’d spend time with Jayce as they worked on numerous projects for your corner of the afterlife, or hours spent laying in the grass together, peacefully watching the clouds go by. There were also bad days where he’d shut himself inside, be unable to look you in the eyes, become withdrawn. But you were there for him, and you gave him space when that was what he needed instead. It would take him time to heal and you were more than willing to give that to him.

As soon as you’d gotten a grasp on your new powers, you’d set out in search of the pieces of Charlotte’s soul. You searched tirelessly, but Charlotte's soul fragments eluded you, too small and scattered to pinpoint. As you probed the furthest reaches of your domain, you stumbled upon a flickering presence - a tiny soul, lost and alone.

You drew closer, your ethereal form coalescing around the frightened soul. It was a child - a little girl with large, curious eyes and messy brown hair. Her essence quivered like a candle flame in the wind. You enveloped her gently, whispering soothing thoughts as you guided her back to the heart of your sanctuary.

As you materialized before her, the girl's eyes widened in wonder. "Who are you?" she asked, her hands held close to her chest.

You knelt down to her height, smiling softly to reassure her you were a friend. "I am the guardian of this place," you replied. "A sanctuary for lost souls. But you may call me Mila. It's wonderful to finally meet you, Elowen."

"You know my name," she whispered, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Are you…are you an angel?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Not quite. But I'm here to help. I’m…friends with your mother."

Elowen's gaze darted around, taking in the misty forests and glimmering lakes of your realm. "You know my mama? Where is she? I tried to find her but she was gone and I was all alone. Is she mad at me?"

"No,” you said with a gentle resolution, “she is not mad at you. If she could be here she would, but that’s what I need your help with. I'm searching for her, Elowen. Her soul has been scattered."

The girl's eyes lit up, hope blooming across her face like the first rays of dawn. "Really? I can help? How?"

"Your connection to your mother is strong. It's a beacon that can guide me to her. Will you let me use that bond?"

Elowen nodded eagerly, her small frame practically vibrating with excitement. "Yes! Please, I want to find Mama."

As you linked your consciousness to hers, you felt a surge of emotion - love, longing, and a fierce determination that belied her young age. Through her eyes, you caught glimpses of Charlotte - a warm smile, gentle hands braiding Elowen's hair, the sound of laughter and quiet humming echoing through a lamp-lit kitchen.

These memories were like breadcrumbs, leading you down a path you couldn't see before. You sensed the first fragile thread of Charlotte's soul, humming with a familiar energy.

"I can feel her," you murmured, your form pulsing with renewed purpose. "I'm going to find your mother, I can sense her now, thanks to you."

"I'm coming with you!" she declared, her small hands balling into fists at her sides.

You shook your head, your essence rippling with concern. "It's too dangerous, Elowen. The journey will take me to the farthest reaches of this realm and beyond. You need to stay here where it's safe."

Tears welled up in Elowen's eyes, her lower lip trembling. "But she's my mama! I want to help!"

Your heart ached at her distress, but you couldn't risk her safety. An idea sparked in your mind, and you gently took her hand. "Come with me. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

You guided Elowen through the sanctuary, the ground beneath your feet shifting and changing with each step. As you approached a sunlit clearing, you spotted who you were looking for.

Isha sat cross-legged in the grass, her hair adorned with small blue flowers. Before her, a makeshift arena of twigs and leaves housed two large beetles, their shells glinting in the soft light.

"Isha," you called to her. The girl looked up, breaking into a wide grin when she saw you. "This is Elowen. Would you mind if she joined you for a while?"

Elowen clung to your side, her earlier bravado fading in the face of meeting someone new. Isha, however, was undeterred. She waved enthusiastically, beckoning you closer.

You gently nudged the hesitant girl forward. "Isha, can you show Elowen your game while I'm gone?"

Isha nodded vigorously, her smile wide and welcoming. She jumped to her feet and extended her hand to Elowen.

Elowen glanced back at you uncertainly, but you gave her an encouraging nod. "Go on," you urged. "I'll be back before you know it."

Elowen hesitated for a moment longer before Isha darted forward, grasping her hand. She tugged Elowen towards the makeshift arena, already demonstrating the rules of her bug tournament.

As you watched Elowen's reluctance melt away, replaced by curiosity and the beginnings of a smile, you knew she was in good hands. With a final glance at the two girls, now huddled over the beetle arena, you had one more stop before you set off on your quest.

You found Viktor in a secluded glade, reclining against a gnarled oak tree with his eyes closed. You crept forward, barely disturbing the grass beneath you. With a mischievous grin, you prepared to materialize and surprise him.

But as you slipped into your corporeal form and reached for his shoulders, Viktor's eyes fluttered open. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I knew you were there," he said, warm with affection.

You pouted, your planned surprise foiled. "How? I was being so sneaky."

Viktor chuckled, reaching up to cup your cheeks. "Your presence is unmistakable, miláčku. I could never miss it."

He pulled you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You melted into him, giggling against his mouth. You could kiss him a thousand times and never tire of it. But as you pulled away, the reminder of your impending journey settled over you like a heavy woollen cloak.

"I found Elowen, and I used her connection to her mother to feel Charlotte's soul," you said, watching him carefully for his reaction. "I'm going to find her, to bring her back."

Viktor's body tensed, his eyes clouding with a familiar guilt. You took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Come with me. This is your chance to make things right."

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I…I don't know if I can face her after what I did."

You held his chin in your fingers, lifting his face to meet your eyes. "Viktor, you've carried this burden for so long. Charlotte wouldn't want that. She'd want you to help her come home."

He took a shaky breath, squeezing your hand. "You're right," he said softly. "I owe it to her to try. To face the consequences of my actions."

"We'll do this together," you promised. "Every step of the way."

As you prepared to set off, Viktor's determination seemed to grow. He straightened his back, his chin lifting with resolve. You didn’t necessarily need him to go with you, you would be fine on your own, but he needed it - needed to feel part of the solution so that his guilt would stop eating him alive.

You and Viktor set off on your journey, your bodies shifting to their ethereal forms. Viktor glowed with the light blue of your magic, and you grew until he became an orb in the palm of your hand. Your skin melded with the darkness of space, your hair becoming the stars themselves.

As you traversed the far corners of the celestial landscape, you encountered wonders beyond imagination. Nebulae bloomed like tropical flowers, their swirling gases glittering with hues of violet, emerald, and gold. You passed through the heart of a dying star, its final pulses of energy washing over you in waves of a bittersweet goodbye. Comets streaked by, leaving trails of fire that scorched your fingertips.

You followed the tenuous threads of Charlotte's soul, each fragment a faint beacon calling out across the vastness of space. You found the first nestled in the core of a nascent planet, reaching through rock and debris to pull the shard free.

“It's…beautiful,” Viktor spoke for the first time since leaving the sanctuary, full of awe and reverence.

You nodded, carefully transferring the fragment to him. "Hold onto it for me. We'll need to gather them all."

Viktor's glowing form pulsed in surprise as the shard rested at his centre. "Are you positive I should be the one to carry them? I am the reason she is like this in the first place."

You pulled his form up to your lips, placing a light kiss against the glowing light of his soul. "I trust you, Viktor. Completely."

He didn't speak, but his grip on the soul shard tightened ever so slightly, a silent promise to guard it with his life.

You ventured on, collecting more fragments from the most unlikely of places. One shard spun within a storm of glittering sand, another floated in a pool on a desert planet.

Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, you collected the final shard from the corona of a distant sun. As Viktor carefully added it to the collection he carried, the shards began to resonate, humming with renewed energy.

Exhausted but triumphant, you returned to the sanctuary, shrinking down to a more manageable size. Viktor's orb expanded, taking on his familiar shape once more. The shards of Charlotte's soul hovered between you, pulsing with a soft, iridescent light in the shaded glade.

With reverent care, you gathered the fragments in your hands. They felt warm, almost alive, as if they recognized your touch. You closed your eyes, focusing your energy on knitting the pieces back together. The shards trembled, edges reaching out tentatively towards one another like shy dancers at a ball.

But something was wrong. The fragments refused to fully merge, repelling each other at the last moment like misaligned magnets. You furrowed your brow, redoubling your efforts. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you poured more power into the process, willing the soul to become whole again.

The shards spun faster. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought you'd succeeded. But then, with a sound like shattering glass, they flew apart. You stumbled back, chest heaving, as the fragments settled into a loose orbit around you.

"Damn it," you grumbled, frustrated beyond measure. To have gotten her back at long last only to fail at the final step…

You tried again, and again, each attempt more forceful than the last. But no matter how much energy you expended, the result was always the same - a brief flicker of hope, followed by bitter disappointment that coated the back of your tongue like bile.

Viktor watched silently, his face twisted with concern. As you slumped to the ground after your latest failed attempt, he knelt beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Perhaps," he said hesitantly, "there's something we're missing. A catalyst of sorts."

You looked up at him, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Viktor's brow furrowed in thought. "The soul fragments, they're like puzzle pieces without a picture to guide them. They've forgotten how they fit together." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "What if they need something to remind them of their true form? Something to…glue the broken pieces back together?"

You pondered his words, your mind racing through possibilities. "Elowen," you breathed, the realization striking you like a bolt of lightning. "Of course! Her daughter - the strongest connection to who Charlotte truly is."

You jumped to your feet. "Stay here with the soul fragments," you instructed Viktor. "I'll go get Elowen."

You found the girl where you'd left her, still playing with Isha by the beetle arena. Her laughter rang out across the clearing, a sound of pure, uncomplicated joy.

You called out to Elowen as you made your way over, your voice carrying on the light breeze. She looked up from the beetle arena and a smile spread across her face, brighter than the midday sun as she scrambled to her feet.

Isha's face fell, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. You knelt beside her. "Don't worry, Isha," you said as soft as dandelion fluff. "I promise I'll bring Elowen back soon. You two can finish your tournament then."

Isha perked up at your words, her smile returning. She nodded eagerly, already planning new games for when Elowen returned.

You turned to Elowen. "I found your mom," you said, watching as hope bloomed in her eyes. "But she needs your help to put her back together."

Confusion wrinkled Elowen's forehead, her head tilting to the side like a curious sparrow. "Put her back together?" she asked.

You nodded, offering her your hand. "It's a bit complicated, but I know you can do it. Are you ready to see her?"

Elowen's small hand slipped into yours, her grip firm and resolute. "I'm ready," she declared, chin lifted high.

You led her back through the sanctuary, the trees whispering secrets as you passed, their leaves rustling in a language only they understood. Your realm responded to you, an extension of your soul that had grown its consciousness.

As you approached the glade where Viktor waited, Elowen tensed beside you. Her eyes locked onto the unfamiliar figure, wariness replacing her earlier excitement.

"It's alright," you soothed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "This is Viktor. He's a friend who's been helping me find your mom."

Viktor stood frozen, his soul flickering with a storm of emotions only you could see. Guilt, hope, and fear swirled within him. His gaze locked onto Elowen, his past sins settling heavily upon his shoulders.

To Viktor, Elowen was a living reminder of what he had stolen - a child robbed of her mother because of his actions. The pain in his eyes was almost tangible, a counterpoint to the soft, pulsing light of Charlotte's soul fragments that spun beside him.

Elowen looked between you and Viktor as she tried to make sense of the stranger who you’d introduced as a friend. "Hello," she said cautiously, looking to you for approval. You smiled, nodding your encouragement.

Viktor swallowed hard and then inclined his head in greeting. "Hello, Elowen. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

You guided Elowen closer, watching as her eyes widened in wonder at the sight of the glowing shards. But before you could explain what they were, Elowen gasped, her small hands reaching out towards the fragments. "Mama!" she cried, tears welling up in her eyes. The soul pieces pulsed brighter at her exclamation, as if responding to her cry.

Your heart clenched at the raw longing in Elowen's voice. You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention. "Elowen," you said softly, "your mama needs your help. She needs to be reminded of who she is." You knelt beside her, your eyes level with hers. "Can you tell us stories about her? About the times you spent together? It will help bring her back."

Elowen nodded eagerly, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "Mama used to sing to me every night. Even when we couldn’t make dinner, she'd hold me close and hum my favourite songs."

As she spoke, the shards pulsed brighter, their movements becoming more coordinated. You nodded encouragingly, and Elowen continued.

She told of Charlotte working long hours in the factories, coming home with hands stained black from machine oil but still finding the energy to play hide-and-seek in their tiny one-room apartment. Of weeds they kept in plant boxes on the window sill, the only things that would grow in the toxic air.

She recounted how Charlotte would skip meals, claiming she wasn't hungry so that Elowen could have a little more, even though Elowen knew better. How she'd fashion dolls out of scraps of fabric and buttons, bringing joy from cast-off remnants.

With each story, the soul fragments drew closer, their light growing more intense. Your magic guided them, urged them to form, but it was Elowen who sealed them together.

"And then," Elowen said, her eyes shining, "there was the day Mama found that old book of fairy tales. She'd read me a different story every night. She did all the voices, even the scary ones!"

At those words, the fragments suddenly rushed together, merging in a blinding flash of light. You shielded your eyes, heart pounding in your throat.

As the glow faded, you saw her - Charlotte - whole and radiant, her form shimmering into solidity, her arm returned, looking younger than you’d ever known her. Her auburn hair fell in waves to her shoulders, matching Elowen’s. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion giving way to wonder as she took in her surroundings.

Then her gaze fell on Elowen.

Charlotte's breath caught in her throat, her hands flying to her mouth. "Elowen?" she whispered, disbelief and hope warring in her voice. "My baby?"

Elowen let out a cry of pure joy, launching herself into her mother's arms. "Mama!"

Charlotte caught her daughter, wrapping her in a tight hug. Tears streamed down her face as she buried her nose into Elowen's hair, breathing in the scent of her child. "Oh, my sweet girl," she sobbed, rocking gently. "My precious, precious girl."

A lump formed in your throat as you witnessed the reunion, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. You stood behind Charlotte, your magic fading to simmer in the background.

Charlotte pulled back slightly, her hands cupping Elowen's face. "How is this possible?" she asked. "You’re just the same as I remember, my love. How long has it been?"

Elowen pointed behind Charlotte and the older woman turned, her gaze falling on you. Your breath hitched, a tangle of emotions too complex to pull apart rendering you speechless. You opened your mouth, but no words came out - just a choked sob of relief.

"Oh, you wonderful, silly girl," Charlotte said, thick with gratitude. "Get over here."

She reached out, drawing you into the hug. You fell into it willingly as you joined the tangle of arms and tears. Charlotte's grip was strong, anchoring you as surely as it did Elowen.

"Thank you," Charlotte whispered, her words muffled against your shoulder. "Thank you for bringing my Elowen back to me. For bringing me back to her."

You couldn't speak, too overwhelmed for words. Instead, you poured your feelings into the hug, your essence wrapping around mother and daughter like a protective shield.

As you held each other, time seemed to lose all meaning. It could have been minutes or hours before Charlotte finally loosened her grip, pulling back just enough to look at you and Elowen properly. Her eyes shone with tears, but her smile was brilliant.

"Look at you," she said. "You've changed so much, my dear. You're radiant." Her fingers traced the starlight in your hair, sending tiny sparks dancing across your skin. "It's like you've become part of the universe itself."

You smiled, an ache blooming in your chest. "I've missed you so much, Charlotte," you whispered, unable to bring yourself to speak any louder.

Charlotte's eyes crinkled with understanding. "We have time now," she assured you, her hand squeezing yours gently as she gazed adoringly at the little girl still clinging to her chest. "All the time in the world."

A flicker of movement caught your eye, and you turned, searching for Viktor. But the spot where he had stood was empty. Your heart sank, a frown tugging at your lips. After everything, had he run away?

Charlotte followed your gaze, her eyes softening. "Ah," she said quietly. "He needs time, I think. This can't be easy for him."

You blinked in surprise, turning back to Charlotte. "You know?"

She nodded, a forlorn smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I remember bits and pieces. Enough to understand." She squeezed your hand again. "Tell him I'm here, when he's ready to talk. There's forgiveness to be found, if he's willing to seek it."

Relief washed over you. “Thank you.” you smiled softly. "I will."

*~*~*

Her mother glanced at the clock, it was well after her daughter should have gone to sleep. But what was the harm in indulging her curiosity just this once? “Did you know that she’s also the Goddess of Reunions?”

The little girl's eyes widened at this new piece of information. “She is?”

“She reunites souls after death who’d known each other in life. Mothers and daughters, friends, sisters, everyone with a connection are guided to each other.”

*~*~*

You kept a watchful eye on the souls entering your realm, always alert for familiar presences. Time had continued, and you had no idea how long it had been since you lived, but when you felt a distinctive energy crackling at the edges of your consciousness - chaotic, vibrant, and unmistakably Jinx - you reached out, gently guiding her towards the sanctuary.

As Jinx materialized, you noticed the tension in her shoulders, and the wariness in her eyes. She scanned her surroundings, fingers twitching as if reaching for weapons that were no longer there.

"Welcome, Jinx," you said, shimmering into view before her. "You're safe here."

Jinx's gaze snapped to you, recognition dawning in her eyes. "Mila? That glowy lady who blew herself up for the metal fortune cookie?" Is that how people remembered you? "What is this place? Where's-"

But before she could finish her question, a blur of motion caught your attention. Isha came bounding across the meadow, her face alight with joy. She skidded to a stop in front of Jinx, her hands moving in a flurry of excited gestures.

Jinx's eyes widened, her lips parting in disbelief. For a moment, she stood frozen, her gaze locked onto Isha's beaming face. Then, with a choked sob, Jinx fell to her knees, her arms wrapping around Isha and pulling her in for a rib-cracking hug.

"You're here," Jinx whispered, her voice cracking. "You're really here."

Isha nodded vigorously, her small hands patting Jinx's back. You felt a surge of emotion from Jinx - a tidal wave of grief, guilt, and overwhelming relief that pulled at her heart like a fishing hook. Her body shook with silent sobs as she clung to Isha, her face buried in the girl's wild hair - twin braids and died blue.

You stood back, giving them space.

A deep voice called out from behind you, rich and thick as he swallowed his hope-tinged sorrow. "Powder."

Jinx stilled, her body going rigid. Slowly, she turned, her eyes locking onto the imposing figure of Vander as he approached. Time seemed to stand still as they regarded each other, years of pain and regret hanging heavy between them.

Then, with a choked sob, Jinx - arms still wrapped tight around Isha - launched herself against Vander’s chest, crushing the little girl between them, though she didn’t seem to mind. He caught her easily, enveloping her in a bear hug that lifted her off her feet. Jinx clung to him, her face buried in his chest as her shoulders shook with silent tears.

"I'm sorry," she cried, her voice muffled. "I'm so sorry."

Vander's large hand cradled the back of her head, his eyes glistening. "Shh, it's alright," he soothed. "You're home now, Powder. You're home."

*~*~*

The little girl yawned, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to stay awake. “She has Viktor and all her friends, do you think she’s happy now?” 

“Yes,” her mother replied, a knowing smile on her lips. “I believe she is.”

Silence filled the small room, the nightlight casting stars on the ceiling. Just as her mother thought her asleep, shifting to stand, the girl asked one more question.

“Do goddesses sleep?”

Her mother paused, having been unprepared to provide that answer. “Everyone sleeps eventually,” she said. “Even curious little girls.”

The girl giggled, her mother placing one last kiss on her forehead before wishing her a goodnight, and departing from her room.

*~*~*

You stood atop a grassy hill, your hand clasped in Viktor's as you gazed out over the ever-expanding sanctuary. The sky above shimmered with countless stars, each one a soul finding peace in your realm.

"It's time, isn't it?" Viktor asked softly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. "Yes, I think it is."

For eons, you had watched over the souls in your care, guiding them, comforting them, reuniting them with loved ones. You had witnessed countless joys and sorrows, rebirths and un-deaths, forgiveness and redemption. Everyone else had become one with the land, only you and Viktor remained. Now, a bone-deep weariness had settled into your soul. The weight of eternity pressed down on you, and you knew in the depths of your soul, it was time to rest.

Viktor squeezed your hand, his eyes reflecting the starlight above. "One last day," he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Let's make it count."

You spent the day wandering through your realm, revisiting all the places that held special meaning for you both. You walked beneath the cascading light of the Aurora Falls, your laughter echoing off the clear waters. You ate your favourite lunches in the Whispering Woods, where the trees sang ancient melodies as you passed.

As the day wore on, you found yourselves in the Meadow of Memories. Flowers of every colour stretched as far as the eye could see, each bloom holding the essence of a cherished moment. You and Viktor lay side by side in the soft grass, watching as the petals released glowing specks that danced on the breeze. Your sparks spun around them, carrying whispers of laughter, tears, and everything in between.

Viktor propped himself up on one elbow, his amber eyes searching yours. "Do you have any regrets?"

You reached up, cupping his cheek in your palm. How many times had he asked you this? And how many times had you given him the same answer?

"Not a single one."

As twilight fell, you followed a narrow path that wound its way to a cliff face at the very edge of your realm. You gazed out at the vast expanse of the universe, an empty sea where there had once been countless souls. Now, they were all housed within your sanctuary.

You turned to Viktor, drinking in the sight of him one last time - the angular lines of his jaw, the warmth in his amber eyes, the gentle smile that had never ceased to make your heart flutter through countless ages.

"Are you ready?" you asked, almost afraid, but with Viktor, that feeling washed away under his devotion.

Viktor nodded, pulling you close. "When I’m with you? Always."

You leaned in, your lips meeting Viktor's in a kiss that felt both familiar and thrillingly new. His arms encircled you, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened. It was every moment of joy, every hardship overcome, every whispered promise and tender touch shared over endless lifetimes.

Viktor's hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your starlit hair. You felt the gentle scrape of his nails on your scalp, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into eternity as you lost yourself in the feeling of him.

Your bodies began to shimmer, intertwining like threads of starlight. The boundaries between you blurred, two souls merging into one radiant being.

Together, you stepped off the cliff's edge. But instead of falling, you floated, your combined energy spreading outward like ripples in a cosmic pond. Your consciousness expanded, suffusing every blade of grass, every drop of water, every piece of starlight in your sanctuary.

You became the whisper of wind, the crash of waves against the shores. You were the heat of the eternal sun and the cool glow of the ever-present moon. Every flower in the Meadow of Memories held a fragment of your shared love, every star in the sky a spark of your combined spirit.

As your energies settled into the fabric of the realm, you felt a profound sense of peace wash over you. The weight of godhood lifted, replaced by the simple joy of existence. You were everywhere and nowhere, eternally present yet finally at rest.

A small part of your consciousness lingered, a gentle guardian watching over the souls in your care. You felt their joys and sorrows, their triumphs and struggles, but no longer as separate entities. They were a part of you now, and you a part of them.

You and Viktor found your final peace, forever entwined in the sanctuary you had created. Your love story had become legend, whispered by the winds and sung by the stars, a tale of the power of forgiveness, redemption, and a love that transcended life, death, and eternity itself.

But most important of all, you were together, always and forever, and nothing could pull you apart.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope this answered any lingering questions <3

I debated with giving them a Janet and Jason (from the Good Place) ending, but that was too sad, even for me :')

[takerfoxx]

Personally, I feel that the reason Suletta and Miorine work so well as a couple is the same reason why they didn't work for me at first: they're just such fundamentally different people, with total opposite personalities, upbringings, values, desires, needs, strengths, weaknesses, traumas, the list goes on. If it weren't for the very strange set of circumstances that forced them to form a connection, I honestly doubt that they would even be friends, so much so that for the first few episodes, I found myself feeling weirdly disconnected from their relationship, and even found myself wondering if they even liked each other.

I mean, take a look at Suletta. She's a country girl from Mercury's mining colonies who never had any friends of her own growing up. She's a clone created in part to replace her older sister, in part to usher in her mother's plan to free her sister, and in part to be a weapon of revenge, leading to an extremely bizarre relationship with her mother that is equal parts affectionate and neglectful. She loves being around people, but is so socially anxious that any sort of interactions sends her into a stuttering fit. She's terrified of confrontation, and yet is larger and stronger than most, and put her behind the controls of a mech, and she will turn you into mincemeat. She's a total klutz when it comes to dealing with other people, and yet stays cool in a crisis and isn't phased by dead bodies. She trusts with her whole heart, measures her relationships by the value she gives to other people, blames herself whenever others let her down, can and will take a life without flinching to protect those close to her, and is delighted by something so simple as having others laugh at a joke that she made.

Now, take Miorine. A rich girl from an extremely powerful family, she lost her mother, quite possibly the only person to ever show her genuine kindness when she was a child, was "raised" by her contemptuous and neglectful excuse for a father, and grew to resent everyone and everything around her. She hates being around people, but has the confidence and social knowledge to play the game. She's tiny and physically weak, but also angry and assertive. She openly loathes her father and will insult him to his face, but also desperately craves his approval. She's been used as a commodity her entire life by people who see her as a stepping stone into power, and is bound and determined to make everyone who tries damned to a living hell. She was raised in luxury in space, but dreams of running away to what is essentially a refugee camp of a planet. She wants so badly to be allowed to stand on her own two feet and be respected for her own accomplishments, but has no real idea how to do it. She views relationships as transactions, has exactly zero patience for other people's nonsense, can and will sacrifice her own happiness for the sake of the select few that she cares about, will run headlong into the most harrowing of political battles, but also fall apart completely when confronted with the reality of death.

And, like I said, for whatever reason I just didn't feel the sparks between them at first. Their whole relationship just felt like a mutually beneficial arrangement, like it was said to be.

But then we got to that magical episode, where they had that amazingly written misunderstanding in the greenhouse, followed by that incredible argument on the space station, and I realized that this was the plan all along, and Suletta and Miorine are actually perfect as a couple...once they've managed to bridge the gap between their extremely different life experiences and massive communication issues.

See, what's so great about them is that while they are extremely different, those difference are also perfectly compatible. One's strength is the other's weakness, and together they make each other better. In a way, they're less opposites and more of two halves of one complete whole. It was Miorine's confidence that allowed Suletta to start standing up for herself, to learn confidence and make real friends, to figure out what love is. And it was Suletta's bravery that inspired Miorine to find a way to make something of her own, to seek out ways to use their families' legacies to help people instead of hurt them, to bridge gaps long carved out by blood. And in the end, they were two desperately lonely girls who just wanted someone to truly, honestly, and unconditionally love them, and they found it in each other.

Granted, it was rough going for a bit. Like I said, they had such different ways of seeing the world, they didn't communicate in the same way, they didn't see relationships in the same way, and they ended up hurting each other just trying to do what they thought was best. But they also forgave one another. They strove to better understand one another. And they came to realize just how much they needed each other. And though it took even greater loss and pain in order to achieve it, they finally found their happy ending. They found each other.

[cmdrfupa]

I. Giri (義理・ぎり)

A complex concept of duty that indicates both the gratitude one has for an act of kindness and the obligation to carry out revenge.

All content warnings and chapters can be found here

Welcome to chapter one! Just so we are on the same page, I have given papa Higuruma a name (I couldn't keep going without giving him one) and it is Hideyoshi. probably won't be used often but it is used beginning here. Thank you for reading and interacting with my work!

4.9k words

The air in the meeting room was dense, a smothering blend of polished tradition and veiled threats. The large mahogany table reflected the dim chandelier light, and every throat clearing cough or shuffle of papers sounded louder than it should have in the otherwise tense silence.

Your father sat to your right, his posture statue like but his expression painfully neutral—as though the weight of his mistakes hadn’t placed you here, across from Hiromi and his father. You wished your mother could be present but duty called even when your only daughter is about to be sent off to slaughter.

Hiromi sat poised, his expression unreadable but alert, as if analyzing every twitch and breath in the room. He wore a tailored black suit, his tie perfectly knotted with a small gold insignia etched right underneath. He wasn’t just present in the meeting; he controlled a certain type of energy that was being exuded by everyone else in the room without needing to say much at all.

His slender fingers tapped lightly on the table, the gold ring he dawned on his middle finger caught the light as the small stack of papers underneath muffled the fidgeting sound from being an annoying one.

Beside him, his father, Hideyoshi, leaned back in his chair with an ease that spoke volumes about his confidence in the situation. His dark eyes, sharp like a hawk’s, flicked between you and your father as though weighing you both like goods on display. He exhaled and smiled, sitting up.

“The guest list will be finalized by the end of the week,” Higuruma’s father spoke in a smooth tone, his voice low but with diction. “A traditional, albeit modest ceremony, naturally, but one that represents the strength of what this union means for everyone involved in this alliance.”

You tensed at the word “alliance,” your hands clenching in your lap, nails digging into your palms.

Alliance—as if that was all this marriage was, a business transaction dressed in wedding attire. You’d remained quiet until now, biting your tongue despite the bile rising in your throat. But when the elder Higuruma moved on to discuss where you and Hiromi would live after the wedding, something inside you snapped.

“Shouldn’t I have a say in that?” you blurted, your voice far more powerful and sharper than you intended. The room went still, your words hanging in the air like a precarious thread. Your father shifted uncomfortably beside you, a warning hand squeezing your arm, but you ignored it, your eyes locking onto Higuruma’s father.

His reaction was slow and deliberate, a small smirk curling at the edges of his mouth before he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. His gaze bore into you, equal parts amused and calculating, like a predator toying with prey.

“A say?” he repeated, his tone dripping with condescension. “How quaint.”

Your core tightened, but before you could muster a reply, he continued, “Allow me to clarify something for you, my soon to be daughter in law. This marriage is not about personal preferences or... your ‘say.’ This is about ensuring stability, power, and loyalty between two families who, let’s be honest, one desperately is in need of the other.”

He gestured toward your father, whose head dipped slightly, shame creeping into his features. “Your father has worked very hard to make this arrangement possible. Without it, well... let’s just say that certain debts—financial, political, and otherwise—might come due far sooner than he’d like.”

Your heart sank as the veiled accusation settled over the table. The implication was clear: your family’s survival hinged on this marriage. Any illusion of choice you’d clung to evaporated in an instant.

“And you,” Hideyoshi added, his gaze narrowing as he focused entirely on you now, “You should consider this an opportunity. A chance to rise above your family’s... recent troubles and secure a future that many would envy. Marrying my son is not a burden; it’s a privilege.”

The words dripped with mockery, but before you could respond, Hiromi finally spoke. His voice was calm but firm, cutting through the hostile energy like a blade.

“That’s enough,” he said, addressing his father without looking at him. His dark eyes met yours instead, and for a fleeting moment, there was something in them that resembled understanding. “Let’s not turn this into a lecture.”

The elder Higuruma’s smirk faltered, but he leaned back in his chair, clearly unwilling to press further. The silence that followed was deafening, but you held Hiromi’s gaze, your pride and anger warring with the growing weight of helplessness in your chest.

“We’ll move forward with the current plan,” Hiromi said after a pause, his tone measured as he turned back to the others. “No further adjustments are necessary.”

Your father nodded quickly, desperate to smooth things over. “Of course. I will ensure everything proceeds as discussed.”

Hiromi sat up on the edge of his chair, ignoring the mousy behavior of your dad, slipping the small file of papers from under his hand and sliding them to the middle of the table towards you. “This is a list of homes all within a three hour drive from my fathers estate and approximately an four from your families. If any or none of them pique your interest, let me know and we can find better options that would fit your ideal living arrangements.”

You looked at the file then looked up through your lids at the dark eyed man. Your father, who was now scared shitless from doing anything deemed as disrespectful, grabbed the file and threw it in your lap. “She will have a decision by the end o-”

“She can speak.” Hiromi looked at your father, cutting him off with a slight increase in his a deadpan gaze that drew a laugh from Higuruma Sr. “This is a list she will look at and she herself will decide.”

“I will take a look at them.” you spoke softly, gripping the file in your lap.

Hideyoshi nodded and gave a cheerful smile. “if there is nothing else, dinner should be ready for us. Itadori-Kun, may you escort our guest to the dining area? Hiromi and I will join you momentarily.”

With that, the meeting adjourned and yet you lingered for a moment, your mind racing with indignation and despair. Hiromi stood and glanced your way, ever so quaintly bowing his head as your father ushered out into the hallway.

“Telling her of her fathers transgressions wasn’t wise.” Hiromi spoke up as his eyes lingered on the door. “It will only feed the already harbored feelings of hatred she has about this whole arrangement.”

As if he was taking his words as a mere joke, Higuruma Sr chuckled quietly, “Tch. That means we have a less likely chance of her trying to run, less headaches.” He buttoned his suit jacket and walked around the large table, Hiromi following closely behind as they walked towards the doors. “She is leverage, Hiromi. They are now playing without a queen on the board, now exposed, willing to take unnecessary actions because of it. Rather than utilizing their bishop pair, they are forfeiting.”

“This isn’t chess, Otousan. She is coming into this family already embarrassed because her father can’t keep his backroom dealings wrapped up and apparently nor his cock.” Hiromi lightly smoothed his hair back, a thin piece hanging just to his forehead as he checked his appearance in the reflection of he office doors before walking out. “Allow me to do whats necessary for a smooth transition and to make sure he doesn’t embarrass us in the process.”

The walk down the hallway was mute. The thoughts ruminating became a storm in Hiromi’s mind as he thought of the home you would soon share with him, the moments you’d refuse to be in the same room as him. Walking past each other in the halls knowing he had no right to demand a word from you.

And yet he found himself excited about your nothing but assertive rejections in the near future.

Higuruma Sr. pressed his hand to Hiromi’s chest and looked him over, gingerly brushing his thumb over the hollow area under his eyes. “You can’t bend at the knee because she is beautiful, Hiromi. This is business,” He brought his hand down, patting his cheek a few times and his dark eyes finally met Hiromi’s. The older man knew what that look was in his sons eyes and needed to bring him back to earth. “Be certain she gets well acquainted to her expectations, keep her as one should keep a woman in the home, and make sure she understands that her loyalty to you is her fathers only saving grace.”

“I don’t think him being alive makes much difference to them. She looked as if she wanted to slit his throat herself.”

“Then she will be thankful when we do it for her.” Hideyoshi straightened Hiromi’s tie and turned his back to him. “Focus on the mother to make her agreeable, then your betrothed. And try to look like you enjoy being alive for fucks sake, Hiromi.”

Hiromi closed his eyes and pinched the skin between his thumb and index finger in an attempt to stave off the overwhelming feeling of wanting to scream until the old man lost his hearing. “Of course, Otousan.”

The dining room was just as lavish as the meeting room— Higuruma Sr. seemed to have a thing for dark woods as the deep cherry colored table extended down the center of the room, adorned with expensive finishes at each place setting, and soft lighting meant to create an air of worldliness.

The long table was set with gleaming silverware and crystal glasses, and the aroma of meticulously prepared foods, in which you noticed your prepared “favorites”, filled the air. But you could hardly taste anything; the nervous strain in the room dulled your appetite.

You sat gently swirling your glass, your gaze fixed on the way your untouched wine made a vortex that kept the center of your attention while the conversation flowed around you. Hiromi sat to your right, his posture composed but relaxed, as though the entire situation wasn’t steeped in unspoken judgments. To your left sat his father, who had already made it clear earlier that your opinions mattered little in this arrangement. And on the other side of Hiromi, your mother was the picture of delight, hanging onto Hiromi’s every word as he engaged her with everything he had.

“You’re quite knowledgeable, Mr. Higuruma,” your mother gushed, her voice bright and eager. “And so well-spoken! It’s no wonder you’ve accomplished so much.”

Hiromi’s lips curved in a polite smile as he inclined his head. “You’re too kind, Shuutome. But I can only credit discipline and good mentors for any success I’ve had.”

Your mother laughed softly, her cheeks faintly flushed. “Still, such humility is rare these days in someone your age. It’s refreshing.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, the sound of her laughter grating on your nerves. Sure, he was charming and was probably more well-rounded than your average high rank brat. But she seemed so utterly charmed, so oblivious to the weight of what this dinner represented.

Meanwhile, you could feel eyes on you from every angle. Hiromi’s father occasionally glanced your way, his sharp gaze like a knife, as though he were measuring your worth in silence before he would speak to the person to his left. Your father kept shooting you furtive looks, his discomfort palpable, but he said nothing to ease the tension, only feigning his laughs as he tried to keep up with each string of conversation across the table. And Hiromi, though his attention was on your mother for most of the dinner, seemed acutely aware of your every movement.

It wasn’t until the laughter and pleasantries lulled that Hiromi finally turned his focus to you.

“Your mother was telling me earlier that you’re quite the avid reader,” he said, his tone light but deliberate. “Do you have a favorite genre?”

You looked up at him briefly, your expression carefully neutral. “No,” you said, your voice clipped.

Hiromi didn’t miss a beat. “Ah, its good to have broad categories to choose from. Is there a particular author or series you enjoy then?”

You shrugged, spearing a piece of food on your plate. “Depends.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his tone steady. He leaned back slightly in his chair, as though giving you space to come to him on your own terms. “Your mother also mentioned you love to cook. That must take quite a bit of creativity. Do you have a favorite dish to make?”

“Not really,” you replied, not looking up.

Your mother shot you a subtle but disapproving glance over his shoulder, but Hiromi didn’t seem bothered by your curt responses. Instead, he regarded you with calm persistence, his gaze steady and thoughtful.

“She also mentioned you value your mornings. Quiet time to yourself, if I remember correctly,” he continued, his voice taking on a slightly more personal tone. “I can respect that. Mornings set the tone for the day, don’t they?”

You hesitated, your fork pausing mid-air. His observation wasn’t wrong, but you resented the idea of your mother sharing such intimate details with someone you barely knew. “I suppose so,” you said finally, your voice quieter.

Hiromi didn’t press further, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, studying you as though trying to unravel the barriers you’d put up. It wasn’t hostile, but it was unnerving, and you found yourself retreating further into silence.

Your mother’s bright smile faltered slightly as she noticed the shift in energy. She quickly tried to redirect the conversation, turning back to Hiromi with another compliment about his accomplishments.

“So after law school, you spent time in America your mother tells me. Do you plan to move my sweet girl away from me at some point?”

He humored her, “We will move wherever she tells me she wants to go. While I have some slow growing roots back in the states, they can be uprooted and placed anywhere she tells me.” His attention drifted back to you, as though he wasn’t quite finished trying to pull you into the conversation. “If you could tomorrow, where would you desire to move?” He faced you, back completely towards your mother who tried to peer over and keep herself inserted into the conversation.

A small, almost mischievous smile crept onto your face as you answered. “Scotland.”

“Oh? That’s quite the choice. Beautiful landscapes, an incredible culture to submerge yourself into and a slow, dare I say slothful, pace of life.”

“And John MacTavish.” you added on, biting into the bit of wedge salad you had on your fork.

Your father ears perked up, his chest filling with hot air and ire as he snapped his fingers at you. “She’s kidding. There is no other man, I’m not sure why she’d even joke around in this way. Keep your whoreish behavior to yourself.”

Your nostrils flared, eyes widened with absolute rage as you gripped the handle of the fork. “If I’m a whore, I’ve learned it from you. So not far from the family tree, correct?”

He stood, rage flooding his body as he tried reaching over the table grabbing for you. Only for Hiromi and his father to stand, flanking you while having two of there men sit your father down with force.

“I’m going to excuse us, Otousan, if you don’t mind.” Hiromi kept his eyes on your father as he stood behind your chair. Waiting for you to drop the forks, he began scooting the chair back while you remained frozen with emotion. “I think I’d like to take my bride to be to the pond to see the new additions.”

“Very well.” Higuruma Sr. attempted to gain back control of the room, plastering on a smile and taking his wife’s then notioning toward your mother.” I’d like for everyone to proceed to the living room for drinks. I think we could all use a moment to breathe, yes?”

He looked back over to your father and flicked his eyes over to one of his men. “Your husband and I are going to have a father to father conversation before we join you in drinks and conversation. Please allow my wife to escort you until we get back. My apologies.” With the charm of a snake, he smiled at your mother who could do nothing but nod in approval.

“I will come by your office before I leave for the night, Otousan. If you’ll excuse us.” Hiromi finally got you to look at him, his dark eyes darted towards the kitchen entrance as he extended his arm out for you to take.

You stood and walked past him to the kitchen, he closely followed until no other eyes were on you.

“The last door on the right will lead you outdoors towards the pond.” He stated firmly.

The evening air rushed you as you stepped outside and a lined to the stone pathway. The latent hostility from the dining room still clung to you like a heavy cloak, but the open space outside offered a small reprieve. Hiromi followed a few steps behind, his presence calm yet unwavering.

“The fucking audacity. A fucking joke of a father.” you spoke through your teeth, blowing out an exasperating breath as you continued down the pathway with no real concern on Hiromi was even with you or not.

You walked in silence for a moment, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your shoes the only sound. When the pond came into view, it was more beautiful than you expected—its surface mirrored the moonlight, shimmering like liquid silver, and the delicate landscaping around it created a serene, almost ethereal atmosphere.

Hiromi let you walk ahead, maintaining a respectful distance. It felt deliberate, as though he was giving you room to breathe after what had transpired inside. When you stopped near the edge of the pond, he finally spoke, his voice measured and low.

“We added new fish to the pond recently,” he began, stepping closer but still keeping some space between you. “Koi, specifically. They’re sensitive creatures, so it’s been a process ensuring their health.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the sudden topic. He didn’t meet your eyes, he instead focused on the water as though he was recounting something of great importance.

“Each one has its own personality,” he continued, his tone thoughtful. “They’re not just decorative. Their colors, their movements… they all tell you something if you pay attention.”

You turned your eyes back to the pond, watching as faint ripples spread across the surface. “How do you even know that?” you asked, your voice quiet but edged with curiosity.

Hiromi’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “The man who tends to them taught me. He’s meticulous, and he takes pride in his work. I’ve made it a point to learn from him. If I’m going to be responsible for something, given we have a pond on our own property, I want to do it properly.”

His words hung in the air. There was no arrogance in his tone, only quiet conviction. You turned to look at him fully this time, searching his face for any trace of pretense. But Hiromi’s expression was calm, his focus now on you.

The moonlight caught the edges of his features, the dark bags under his eyes somehow lightened by the way the water reflected in his eyes, his nose illuminating his lean face with how the moonlight highlighted the pristine curvature of his face. The things soft shadows can do to a hardened face. He seemed genuine—a man who approached even the smallest of tasks with care and deliberation.

“Do you take that approach with everything?” you asked, unable to keep the skepticism from your voice.

Hiromi’s gaze didn’t waver. “I try to,” he said simply.

You wanted to scoff, to brush off his words as calculated and rehearsed. But something about the way he spoke made it difficult. There was no pushiness, no attempt to sway you. He was just… there, steady and patient, offering you pieces of himself without demanding anything in return.

The gentle lapping of the water filling the void as you listened to him. The questions swirling in your mind felt too big, too tangled to voice. You didn’t trust him and that wasn’t likely to change. But as you watched him, quietly detailing the care required to maintain the pond and its delicate inhabitants, you couldn’t help but feel that, at the very least, Hiromi would take his husband duties seriously and that bare minimum action would have to suffice.

That thought lingered, even as you turned your attention back to the shimmering water, “Which of the homes did you like the most.”

He cocked his head ever so slightly, “Pardon me? Which one do I like?”

“Yes. That’s what I asked.” you countered.

“Seems a bit counterproductive asking me this.” He chuckled.

Craning your neck to meet his focus yet again, you scoffed. “Because its expected of me to create some warm, inviting home for you to come lay in after you’ve flounced around with hookers and God knows what else? I’m not choosing a home just for you to desecrate it with your bullshit.”

He knows better than to poke the bear when the bear poked itself to begin with. He reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out a cigarette case, sliding one out with ease, “It’s counterproductive because I’ve lived in a shack and made do for years,”

Fishing around in his pant pocket, he pulled out a gold, vintage looking lighter and lit the cigarette, taking a long drag before exhaling in the opposite direction of you. “You are choosing a home because you will know the ins and outs of it, you can make it as you please and it will be yours when I am killed by ‘God knows what’ as you say.”

His curt smile pissed you off and it was evident by the way you moved a few paces away, giving Hiromi a chuckle.

You turned your attention back to the shimmering water, letting the silence stretch between you once more as he finished his cigarette with no other words spoken.

The sound of footsteps approaching on the graveled walkway made you both turn your head but Hiromi met him a few paces away. The young man, whom you’d learned to call Itadori, spoke in whispers with Hiromi before he took a step back and smiled at you. His faded pink hair flounced as he waved at you. “Hello, ma’am!”

“Sorry to do this, but I’m being called on to handle some personal matters.” Hiromi pinched the end of his cigarette and placed it on the bench before stepping to you. “Itadori will stay with you until you are ready to leave. We have arranged for you to drive home separately from your parents if you choose to do so.”

“Thank you.” for that move, gratitude was truly a necessity. Nothing snippy to add. “I’ll just.. be out here for awhile longer.”

With a half bow, Hiromi excused himself and leisurely made his way back to the main house.

Itadori smiled and pulled out a small pack of candy, tossing one of the green balls in his mouth and offering the bag to you. “Like sour stuff? Its green apple.”

You looked him up and down for a moment. Young, you’d say too young to be apart of this nonsense but he seemed.. different. Not beaten down by life just yet.

Strange.

You clawed a candy out and popped it in your mouth, immediately recoiling at the sour tartness that flowed over your tongue. “How the hell do you eat these??” you winced, trying to champion the sour venom to get to the sweet apple flavor.

Like a cheerful bunny, he perked up placing the candy back into his pocket. “Nice to chew on when I’m thinking or on the go. Everyone else has coffee, alcohol, tobacco,” He bit into the hard candy and hummed. “I have sour green apple hard candies. Nothing like it.”

That earned a huff of a laugh as you chewed on the candy yourself. The full apple flavor was a surprise as the bits melted onto your tongue. “Do you know how long he will be?”

He shook his head, “No, unfortunately. I was told to just fetch him and to take you home if you found yourself needing some space from your parents.”

“Does he think I’m an idiot? I can get home on my own. I don’t need some type of special attention because my father can’t control his temper or where his dick goes.”

Itadori knew better than to say anything other than what he was told to say if you refused any help. He simply hummed and nodded. “Of course! You are fully capable. I will let them know. Have a goodnight ma’am. The way you came out will be unlocked until you go back inside.” He gave his boyish grin before turning and walking away leaving your jaw hanging at the sudden whiplash of the moment.

“The fuck was that?”

He called Hiromi once he was no longer in earshot of you, his hands jangling the contents of his pockets as it rang.

“She didn’t go home.” Hiromi huffed, no time for the wasted pleasantries as he knew what the call was for. “You did what I asked, thank Itadori-kun. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Of course! See you tomorrow, Higuruma-sama.”

---

Hiromi let Itadori hangup as a smile instantly found its way onto his face, the tension in his shoulders easing as he now knew his next steps. “Your daughter is truly a treasure.” a sense of alert in the way he looked awake, as if something had been activated in him while he scrolled through his apps until he found what he was looking for. The green hue lit up his face as he turned on the tracker.

“That should do it.” He exclaimed calmly, making one final tap before sliding the phone on the table and flicking his eyes to the other side of the room.

“Look, I apologized to your father for my outburst. It..it wasn’t the time to handle that.” in the small, sweaty room hidden from every radar known, your father sat, knees touching on the concrete floor. His shirt neatly folded on the table as the red welts from his earlier talking to turned deep maroons and purples.

“And when is the right time to demean your daughter, sir? Is it when less mixed company is around? Or is it when you have her in front of family only so you all can get a jab in?” Like a calm saint, he was the embodiment of content as he sat down in front of your dad, crossing his long, lean leg while Higuruma Sr. slide his suit jacket back on. 3 younger brothers stood quietly, this being far more tame than what they know can happen.

“Never. I sh-should never.”

Hiromi loosened his tie, taking a moment to roll his shoulders, finding himself internally amused at the sight before him:

Weak and ugly. Some of the worst parts of humanity was sitting in front of him with a small piss stain on his pants, hoping that his chest won’t be caved in by the time he leaves this room.

“From your conversation with Otousan, you should have learned two things.” He grabbed the lit cigarette from the ashtray and took a quick drag, “One, my father is far more patient than I am so expect him to have more reasons to give you the benefit of the doubt. And two,” Hiromi reached down and snubbed the cigarette out onto your fathets abdomen, not moving it until it burned out completely to leave a perfect marking.

“I am the judge, jury, and executioner.” His pupils dilated, the rich brown color seemed to glow with passion as he spoke, “What you think is done in secret, I will always know about it. If you even think of doing something against this family, I’ll lobotomize you myself to rid you of any impure thoughts. Are we clear?”

Hideyoshi laughed, coming up behind Hiromi and slapping his shoulders, approval in the way he squeezed then hung his arm around him. “It seems that time in the states did you some good! Let’s wrap this up; I want to get one last toast in before he and his wife must leave.”

Hiromi was never under the impression that this would ever be easy. You were unhappy and this wasn’t ideal. But would be as patient as he could be. Only for you. Whether it was for you to return his affections or for you to tell him to pull the trigger any problem you had. There wasn’t going to be a stone unturned from this point forward.

He’d be at your beckon call, doing anything he could to bring you joy until his last breath was taken.

For better or for worse.

[z-nightshade]

Possible Devil Fruit Ideas

I currently have a list of possible Devil Fruit ideas for Cass from my fic An Oracle's Odyssey. Not all of them are completely fleshed out yet and are still subject to tweaking and me figuring out the details, I'd just like to know your opinions on them. Feel free to ask if you have any questions. (If you see an N/A, it just means I haven't figured that part out yet)

Fruit 1

Kibo Kibo no Mi (Scale Scale Fruit)

Type: Paramecia

Abilities: Grants the user the ability to increase or decrease the scale of something exponentially. This can be physical (size, amount/# of things, ect) or metaphorical (force, strength, speed, ect). Only works on the user and objects, not other people

Awakening: N/A

Pros

Would allow Cass to increase the their physical stats for as long as they have the energy to hold their fruit powers

Giant Cass

Pocket sized Cass

Enables Cass’s hoarding tendencies

Cass can be that one meme where one person pulls out an absurd amount of weapons

I can give Cass a giant war hammer and a giant battle ax which I would have to forgo with any other fruit because they’re too big to carry around

The one I can be the most creative with

Fruit 2

Oto Oto no Mi (Sound Sound Fruit)

Type: Logia

Abilities: The ability to become, generate and manipulate sound waves. Grants user control over all sound they create

Awakening: Grants user control over all sound waves

Pros

Ties thematically with Cass’s connection to sound

Ties back to Apollo/the sun god because sound and music (this does include Nika as well bc drums)

Allows Cass to become intangible

Sonic screeches

Sonic vibrations could be used to replicate Whitebeard’s fruit

Very difficult to block sound based attacks (probably the most outright deadly if used properly)

Could use sound waves to break things apart on a molecular level

I actually know what I want the awakening to be

Voice mimicry

Fruit 3

Type: Mythical Zoan

Abilities: Grants the user the ability to turn into the goddess Artemis and tap into her abilities and domains

Nature: Nature is inclined to help & listen to the user

Hunting: Increased physical abilities & aim as well as other hunting abilities

The Moon: Moon beams

Half Form: N/A

Full Form: N/A

Awakening: N/A

Pros

Mood goddess first mate and sun god captain

Ties into nature and the Voice of All Things

Artemis is the twin of Apollo, the greek sun god

Artemis is the goddess of archery and Cass uses ranged weapons

Fruit 4

Hito Hito no Mi Model Hecate (Human Human Fruit Model Hecate)

Type: Mythical Zoan

Abilities: Grants the user the ability to turn into the goddess Hecate and tap into her abilities and domains

Magic/Witchcraft: The ability to practice Greek witchcraft (spells, potions, herbs, runes)

The Night: Nightvision, possible minor control over darkness

Ghosts/Necromancy: Abilities to see and talk to the spirits of the dead

Crossroads: N/A

Half Form: N/A

Full Form: N/A

Awakening: N/A

Pros

One of the most thematically tied to Cass (Greek Mythology, crossroads and decisions, death)

Hecate is also tied to the moon even if she isn't the mood goddess like Artemis

One of Hecate’s symbols is the torch, tying into their connection with Ace

Strong ties to the underworld and death, with Hecate being one of the few deities who can easily travel between realms

Was a titan who helped the gods when over throwing the titans (relevant but the reason is a spoiler)

Called the three headed goddess represent the maiden, the mother and the crone but also the past, present and future

Witch Cass (requires prep work and Cass to make their own spells and magic system)

Fruit 5

Shika Shika no Mi Model Qilin (Deer Deer Fruit Model Qilin)

Type: Mythical Zoan

Abilities: Grants the user the ability to turn into a Qilin and use it’s abilities

Fire breathing

Prophecy

Flight

Shapeshifting

Half Form: The horns & scales of a Qilin, also hovees & horse like legs and tail

Full Form: Fully transforms into a Qilin (“a deer's body, ox's tail, most frequently cloven hooves, a dragon's head, and scales, sometimes with flames emanating from the body.” description from worldhistory.org)

Awakening: N/A

Pros

Ties most closely into Cass’s Oracle shtick as Qilin’s are associated with prophecy, insight and wisdom like Oracles

I actually have ideas regarding the transformations that would take place

A Qilin’s birth is tied to the birth or death of a sage (Cass dying and being reborn)

Qilins are also known to transport souls

The most distinct transformation of all the Zoan ideas and also the most fun

The chimera esque appearance of a Qilin (important and thematically tied but the reason is a spoiler)

Luffy is based on Sun Wukong who also hails from Chinese mythology like the Qilins

As of right now, any of these fruits are possibilities. Cass never getting a Devil Fruit is also an option. I’d love to hear your opinions. Some other miscellaneous notes, I’m a bit on the fence on the idea of Cass being a Zoan. They’re already an Oracle which is a mythological classification on its own. That’s not to say they can’t be both but it’s something I think about. Also, awakenings. If I were to give them a Devil Fruit, I’d want to have them awaken it before the story finishes so I’d love to hear any ideas you have for it

[wingedblooms]

Blooming dreams

Gardeners, I think, dream bigger dreams than emperors. (Mary Cantwell)

This meta is a continuation of my thoughts over the years, but especially the ones expressed in the following links. Please be aware that there are major hofas spoilers in this post and avoid if needed.

Secret, lovely seer / Forbidden secrets

A rose in the thorns / The flower of life

Seer, wise woman, witch / Three sisters witches / Starborn light

Since my first meta, I have been fixated on Elain’s connection to the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate (let's call her Wyrd) and her potential powers, including sight, shapeshifting, and healing. They are all related when you’re talking about Wyrd, though I am not here to say what I have written is what Sarah has planned. This post is more a love letter to Sarah’s mystical and earthy depiction of Elain and what I would love to see in her story based on all the seeds she’s planted (and if there is an actual magical bean seed involved, I’ll love her all the more for it). Thanks especially to @psychologynerd for previewing this fever dream of a post.

I gazed again at that sad, dark house—the place that had been a prison. Elain had said she missed it, and I wondered what she saw when she looked at the cottage. If she beheld not a prison but a shelter—a shelter from a world that had possessed so little good, but she tried to find it anyway, even if it had seemed foolish and useless to me. She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger. (acotar)

From the first book in the series, Feyre recognizes that Elain views things differently. She views things that are sad and dark with hope, and that’s why Sarah has called her the quiet dreamer. It’s a strength that sets her apart. I like to think that’s also what the Cauldron—though warped by the Asteri—saw when she was forced into its womb. 

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain…Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something…It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes and I wondered if it may have recognized Elain as a kindred spirit, some echo of its Mother form. A creator, life-bringer. Were the waters of the Cauldron more like Silba’s Womb—a darkness of creation, sweet and lovely—when Elain was immersed? Or is it possible that when Elain entered its dark womb she viewed it differently than her sister? Did she see a wounded creator to help rather than an enemy to combat? 

Elain’s hopeful perspective might be why it gifted her with such powers, powers that we know allow her to see differently than others. And since it may have enhanced her unique perception, I wonder if it also enhanced her ability to bring life and beauty into the world. As a gardener, Elain is well acquainted with the task of envisioning her garden and then getting her hands dirty to make that vision a reality. Dream and reality are entwined in gardening, just like her Sight.

“She loves to garden. Always loved growing things. Even when we were destitute, she managed to tend a little garden in the warmer months. And when–when our fortune returned, she took to tending and planting the most beautiful gardens you’ve ever seen. Even in Prythian. It drove the servants mad, because they were supposed to do the work and ladies were only meant to clip a rose here and there, but Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that.” (acowar)  If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta…she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. [...] Nesta stared them all down. Elain kept her focus on the dry, rocky ground. (acowar)  She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind…Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers–or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar) If Elain’s mental gates were those of a sleeping garden, Nesta’s…They belonged to an ancient fortress, sharp and brutal. The sort I imagined they once impaled people upon. (acowar)  “What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this…I think the world needs more gardens.” (acowar) 

As we saw in acosf for Nesta—a new type of warrior who forges magical swords and retrieves the Harp from an ancient fortress (the Prison) connected to the Starborn—these descriptions are clearly meant to foreshadow what occurs in the sisters’ stories. While Nesta is a freshly forged sword, Elain is blooming life in Illyria. And what do we learn in hofas? 

“The Cauldron,” Nesta said hours later, pointing to yet another carving on the wall. It indeed showed a giant cauldron, perched atop what seemed to be a barren mountain peak with three stars above it. Azriel halted, angling his head. “That’s Ramiel.” At Bryce’s questioning look, he explained, “A mountain sacred to the Illyrians.”  Bryce nodded to the carving. “What’s the big deal about a cauldron?” [...]  “All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.” (hofas)

We receive confirmation that the Cauldron is associated with the sister peaks, as I suspected, and Ramiel in particular as @merymoonbeam has previously suggested. 

Before Bryce could contemplate this further, Silene went on, But my mother and father knew they needed the most valuable of all the Daglan’s weapons. Bryce tensed. This had to be the thing that had given them the edge— The snows around Ramiel parted, revealing a massive bowl of iron at the foot of the monolith. Even through the vision, its presence leaked into the world, a heavy, ominous thing. “The Cauldron,” Nesta said, dread lacing her voice. […] “The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced…those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage.”  [...] “They fought the Daglan and won, she went on. Using the Daglan’s own weapons, they destroyed them. Yet my parents did not think to learn the Daglan’s other secrets—they were too weary, too eager to leave the past behind.” (hofas) 

In Forbidden secrets, I theorized that Elain’s powers might allow her to map the secrets of the land in order to heal it and @offtorivendell discussed magical mounds in her theory on reviving dusk. It seems like the Asteri did indeed leave secrets behind, which might explain why certain places continue to be forbidden and barren. But we are given hope that they do not need to remain that way. In hofas, Bryce wakes and wields the land belonging to her Starborn ancestors on the Prison island:

And precisely as Theia had gifted her own power to Silene … perhaps Silene had in turn left that same power here, to be claimed by a future scion. One by one, rapid as shooting stars, the thoughts raced through Bryce. More on instinct than anything else, she dropped to her knees and slammed her hand atop the eight-pointed star. Bryce reached with her mind, through layers of rock and earth—and there it was. Slumbering beneath her. Not firstlight, not as she knew it on Midgard—but raw Fae power from a time before the Drop. The power ascended toward her through the stone, like a glimmering arrow fired into the dark— [...] Like a small sun emerging from the stone itself, a ball of light burst from the floor. A star, twin to the one in Bryce’s chest. Her starlight at last awoke again, as if reaching with shining fingers for that star hovering inches away. With trembling hands, Bryce guided the star to the one gleaming on her chest. Into her body. White light erupted everywhere. Power, uncut and ancient, scorched through her veins. The hair on her head rose. Debris floated upward. She was everywhere and nowhere. She was the evening star and the last rays of color before the dark. Azriel had nearly reached the tunnel. Another flap of his wings and he’d be swallowed by its dark mouth. But at a mere thought from Bryce, stalactites and stalagmites formed, closing in on him. The room became a wolf, its jaws snapping for the winged warrior— The rock had moved for her, as it had for Silene. “Stop him,” she said in a voice that was more like her father’s than anything she’d ever heard come out of her mouth. Azriel swept for the tunnel archway—and slammed into a wall of stone. The exit had sealed. Slowly, he turned, wings rustling. Blood trickled out of his nose from his face-first collision with the rock now in his path. He spread his wings, bracing for a fight. The mountain shook, the chamber with it. Debris fell from the ceiling. Walls began shifting, rock groaning against rock. As if the place this had once been was fighting to emerge from the stone. [...] From far away, she could sense it: the things lurking within the mountain, her mountain. Twisted, wretched creatures. Some had been here since Silene had trapped them. Had been contemplating their escape and revenge all this time. She’d let them out if she restored the mountain to its former glory. And in that moment, the mountain—the island—spoke to her. Alone. It was so alone—it had been waiting all this time. Cold and adrift in this thrashing gray sea. If she could reach out, if she could open her heart to it…it might sing again. Awaken. There was a beating, vibrant heart locked away, far beneath them. If she freed it, the land would rise from its slumber, and such wonders would spring again from its earth— (hofas)

The mountain–Bryce’s mountain–speaks to her, asking her to open her heart to it so it can finally rise from its slumber. Cue internal screaming, my friends, because this language was intentional and it might finally explain Elain’s conversation in this scene: 

She looked away—toward the windows. “I can hear your heart,” she said quietly. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth. “When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” (acowar)

Elain’s hearing is a source of concern after she is Made because it is unusually heightened; she hears so many things, usually connected to the nature around her as @silverlinedeyes theorized. Like calls to like, and so she might be able to hear the beating heart of the land around her, even as it slumbers. Perhaps that is why her eyes were drawn to the barren ground in Illyria.

Vesperus, an Asteri trapped in a glass coffin below the Prison, tells us more about the connection between the Cauldron and the land: 

“I am the Evening Star,” Vesperus seethed. Bryce rolled her eyes. “Fine, we’ll call you the Evening Star, too. Happy?” “Is it not fitting?” A wave of long fingers capped in sharp nails. “I drank from the land’s magic, and the land’s magic drank from me.” [...] Vesperus folded her hands in her lap. “A planet that was once green, as this one is.” “And that wasn’t good enough?” “We grew too populous. Wars broke out between the various beings on our world. Some of us saw the changes in the land beginning—rivers run dry, clouds so thick the sun could not pierce them—and left. Our brightest minds found ways to bend the fabric of worlds. To travel between them. Wayfarers, we called them. World-walkers.” [...] “Once we left our home world, our powers began to dim. Too late, we realized that we had been dependent on our land’s inherent magic. The magic in other worlds was not potent enough. Yet we could not find the way back home. Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” Solas. “So destroy the Cauldron…” “And you destroy this world. One cannot exist without the other.”

This should come as no surprise because we saw this play out in acowar, but the Cauldron is tied to the soul of their world. The term soul is intentional, and we will return to it in a bit, but I started to wonder in Forbidden secrets about that connection. The influence of Wyrd is especially clear in the sacred peaks, where the Asteri left behind their secrets. Could Elain unravel the Asteri’s magic from the slumbering heart of the earth, and unbind the Cauldron as a result? Or will she need to go to Cretea to retrieve and purify the magic of the Asteri from the Cauldron like a healer would, in body and in spirit? (Hello, Nephelle celebrations, let’s go.) Nothing feels more right than seeing our strong-willed gardener get her hands dirty as she rips out the Asteri from the root, or beating heart, of their world. Sarah may have even hinted at this role for Elain as she describes getting into her mind for her book:

“There was literally ivy everywhere: in the garden beds, wrapped around the trees, crawling up the sides of the house. So I went into this obsessive, I-need-to-rip-out-every-last-strand-of-ivy-before-I-have-this-baby mode. And I remember the entire time I was ripping out the ivy, and trying to get some semblance of order into the garden beds, I just slipped into Elain’s head. Elain is a gardener, and everything I did during those weeks became research for her book. I’m not even joking. Elain’s now going to have dreams about ripping ivy out and the ivy creeping in through the windows to strangle her at night, because let me tell you, that ivy does not want to go.” (Sarah’s interview in acofas) 

English ivy is an aggressive invader and its hosts decline over time before they die. That’s exactly what the Asteri are: aggressive invaders that feed off of their hosts, warping the power of the land for their sole benefit, until it begins to wither away. In hofas, we learn that the Asteri hid their power throughout the land, including at the root of sacred mountains:

Vesperus backed up a half step, hissing at the gleaming weapon. “We hid pockets of our power throughout the lands, in case the vermin should cause … problems. It seems our wisdom did not fail us.”

“There are no such places,” Azriel countered coldly.

“Are there not?” Vesperus grinned broadly, showing all of her too-white teeth. “Have you looked beneath every sacred mountain? At their very roots? The magic draws all sorts of creatures. I can sense them even now, slithering about, gnawing on the magic. My magic. They’re as much vermin as the rest of you.” (hofas)

And we see the moment Bryce discovers that Vesperus has hidden her power in the root of the Prison mountain, which is what sustains her and weakens the land: 

Bryce clutched the Starsword tighter. Its power thudded into her palms like a heartbeat. “But why store your power here? It’s an island—not exactly an easy pit stop.” “There are certain places, girl, that are better suited to hold power than others. Places where the veil between worlds is thin, and magic naturally abounds. Our light thrives in such environments, sustained by the regenerative magic of the land.” She gestured around them. “This island is a thin place—the mists around it declare it so.”  […] “Every world has at least one thin place,” Vesperus drawled. “And there are always certain people more suited to exploit it—to claim its powers, to travel through them to other worlds.” […] “Theia had the gift,” Vesperus said, “but did not understand how to claim the light. I made sure never to reveal how during her training—how she might light up entire worlds, if she wished, if she seized the power to amplify her own. But you, Light-Stealer…She must have passed the gift down to you. And it seems you have learned what she did not.”  Vesperus peered at her bare feet, the rock beneath. “Theia never learned how to access the power I cached beneath my palace. She had no choice but to leave it there, buried in the veins of this mountain. Her loss—and my gain.” Oh gods. There was a fucking firstlight core here, far beneath their feet— (hofas)

These thin places are where ley lines—highways for magic and communication—overlap, allowing travel for those who are suited to it (wayfarers). Starborn and Asteri alike seem to be suited to these places, and have used them to store their power, causing the land around it to wither. 

“Ley lines,” Bryce breathed. Aidas nodded. “These lines are capable of moving magic, but also carrying communications across great distances.” Like those between the Gates of Crescent City, the way she’d spoken to Danika the day she’d made the Drop. “There are ley lines across the whole of the universe. And the planets—like Midgard, like Hel, like the home world of the Fae—atop those lines are joined by time and space and the Void itself. It thins the veils separating us. The Asteri have long chosen worlds that are on the ley lines for that exact purpose. It made it easier to move between them, to colonize those planets. There are certain places on each of these worlds where the most ley lines overlap, and thus the barrier between worlds is at its weakest.” Everything slotted together. “Thin places,” Bryce said with sudden certainty. “Precisely,” Apollion answered for Aidas with an approving nod. “The Northern Rift, the Southern Rift—both lie atop a tremendous knot of ley lines. And while those under Avallen are not as strong, the island is unique as a thin place thanks to the presence of black salt—which ties it to Hel.” “And the mists?” Hunt asked. “What’s the deal with them?” “The mists are a result of the ley lines’ power,” Aidas said. “They’re an indication of a thin place. Hoping to find a ley line strong enough to help her transfer and hide Theia’s power, Helena sent a fleet of Fae with earth magic to scour every misty place they could find on Midgard. When they told her of a place wreathed in mists so thick they could not pierce them, Helena went to investigate. The mists parted for her—as if they had been waiting. She found the small network of caves on Avallen … and the black salt beneath the surface.”

All of the sister peaks thrum with power and are at odds with the land around them. Barren. They might all be thin places, interconnected through ley lines...and hiding a cache of magic in the root (heart) of their souls.

Bryce’s ancestors, separated by the Void, planted clues for those with the gifts and vision to see it.

What had looked like etched seas or rivers of stars now filled in with starlight, became … alive. Moving, cascading, coursing. A secret illustration, only for those with the gifts and vision to see it. (hofas)

A secret carved in stone. What secrets remain under other sacred mountains, such as Ramiel? Is it any coincidence that Enalius, who defended Ramiel, was the owner of Truth-Teller? Or that the Cauldron is depicted there? Who would be equipped with the gifts and vision to uncover those secrets and finally set the soul of the land free, like Bryce? 

“Light blasted up through the blades into her hands, her arms, her heart. Bryce could hear it through her feet, through the stone. The song of the land beneath her. Quiet and old and forgotten, but there. She heard how Avallen had yielded its joy, its bright green lands and skies and flowers, so it might hold the power as it was bid, waiting all this time for someone to unleash it. To free it. […] Helena had bound the soul of this land in magical chains. No more. No more would Bryce allow the Fae to lay claim over anything. “You’re free,” Bryce whispered to Avallen, to the land and the pure, inherent magic beneath it. “Be free.” And it was. (hofas)

Helena bound the soul of Avallen in magical chains. Doesn't that sound like what the Asteri did with the Cauldron and the land? There are so many hints that Elain is set up to address this plot, but the one I find the most compelling is given by the Under-King when he confirms who Wyrd (Urd) is:

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin…they were like tattoos.” […] “And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

Now, doesn't that sound familiar?

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. (acosf)

The statues are essentially the same and Wyrd has already been described in terms that evoke the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate (Forces That Be). And Nesta just happened to feel the need (fateful tug?) to place Elain’s rose—a symbol of life and joy and beauty—right next to Wyrd, and drew our attention to it again in the final scene of her story. What do you want to bet that Wyrd, the Stone Mother, gave her favorite gardener the gifts and vision she needs to make her dream of building more gardens, of breathing life and beauty into the land, a reality?

Sarah has confirmed that the main female characters in her books are helped by others, usually a love interest and friends. So who might be foreshadowed to help Elain?

I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.”  “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. (acowar)  - “I’ll help you,” Nesta offered.  But Elain shook her head. “Nuala and Cerridwen will help me.”  Then she was gone–shoulders a little squarer.  - It was three by the time the others went to bed. [...] Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. (acofas)

It’s no coincidence that the characters closest to Elain possess unique powers that complement her own and relate specifically to the elements of Stone Mother. Azriel learned to speak the language of shadow and wind and stone, while the half-wraith twins are nothing but shadow and mist, able to walk through walls, stone as @psychee92 discusses here. Their magic likely thrives in thin parts of the world. It also isn't a coincidence that Nesta noticed and wondered this:  

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. (acosf) 

Their beautiful, wraith-like team has the gifts necessary to traverse the slumbering heart of the earth as easily as foreign courts, which is a hard combination to find and is uniquely suited for Elain’s mission to release the Cauldron and land from the magical chains of the Asteri. Especially since we learn that Bryce uses both blades of the Starborn to free Avallen from its magical chains:

On an exhale, she plunged the weapons into the slits in the eight-pointed star. The small one for the knife. The larger one for the sword.

And like a key turning in a lock, they released what lay beneath. (hofas)

They even help Bryce rid the land of the Asteri and their core of power, creating a larger void to devour the one the Asteri set in place. Back in acowar, as many have noticed, Sarah already planted this moment between Azriel and Elain:

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection…that knife. (acowar)

She and Azriel seem to represent the balance of light and dark in the Starsword and Truth-Teller, as @merymoonbeam theorized. The Starborn blade—the one belonging to Enalius—is a bridge of connection between them. Bryce leaves the Starsword (Gwydion) and Truth-Teller with Nesta, encouraging her to learn about her connection to the Starborn (eight-pointed star). That might mean the Archeron Starborn connection may happen after all. I could see Elain wielding those blades when needed, activating their magic as she seemed to do with Truth-Teller, to release the land from its magical chains. It would also be interesting if Elain and Azriel functioned like the Made blades themselves, releasing the Asteri’s chains with their own blend of raw magic, and watching joyously as life blooms in earnest again.

Once they remove the magical chains of the Asteri—on the land and their sacred Cauldron—perhaps we’ll also discover what exists between Elain and Azriel at last: 

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports–likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City–the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it. 

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” 

“I’d keep that question from Lucien.” 

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?” 

Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies…” (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, @elriell and others have written extensively about mating bonds, so I won’t discuss that in depth here. Essentially, Feysand and Nessian appear to have bonds that are true in spirit, and they are described as living threads of pure golden light between their souls. 

Thread after thread of pure golden light flowed into him, and he met it with his own. Where those threads wove together, life glowed like starfire, and she had never seen anything more beautiful, felt anything more beautiful. (acosf) 

This living light reminds me of the dawn, which is associated with healing and new beginnings. When Feysand and Nessian bind their souls together in these scenes, the dawn is invoked each time: 

Feysand

…I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world. (acomaf)

Nessian

Cassian roared as he came, and the sound was the summons of a hunt, a symphony, a single clear horn playing as dawn broke over the world. (acosf)

And when Azriel first sees Elain in his bonus chapter, her hair is unbound and she appears like the dawn, gilded in living light on the longest night of the year. 

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. (Azriel’s bonus chapter)

Is it possible that, with Elain’s connection to Wyrd and the land, her own threads of life are similarly chained, or warped? Perhaps when Elain clears away the Asteri’s power, we will finally see the truth blooming between them: threads of golden light twining together in an endless, earthy melody.

[hello-nichya-here]

Every now and then I just remember how Riley was painted as the victim in his relationship with Buffy and it just makes me so mad. The writers keep telling us that she didn't appreciate him and his way of loving her, but we are SHOWN that it was actually the other way around.

Buffy was not perfect, and it's clear she first got attached to Riley because he was a normal dude and she very much needed something in her life to be normal - but when it turned out he also had a secret life, that he was also the "hero" of his group, she accept it. She continued to like him. She still wanted him around.

Riley meanwhile seemed to resent her for being the slayer, for being stronger than him, for having other stuff going on in her life, for having dated/being the object of affection of guys that were stronger than him.

His insecurity is ridiculous. He was literally willing to die just to be a very strong, but also very dead guy, instead of being a completely healthy dude with the strength of a regular dude. He even acts like him not being able to beat Buffy in a fight, even with the "power up" is what is causing her to be "distant" sometimes, not the fact that, like he said himself, she needs to prevent the end of the world every other week and that's kinda stressful and takes a lot of her free time.

He also complains about her asking him to take care of her younger sister, the most important thing in the world to her, so she doesn't have to worry about that while out killing vampires and demons - and he thinks of that as her "not letting her be useful", and then complains again when she gives him a bullshit role in the whole "stopping the doom of all of humanity", even though he just refused the thing that would make him actually useful. He also conveniently forgets things like Buffy asking HIM specifically to take care of her after she was wounded in a fight. He doesn't see any of that as her truly including him in her life and full on needing him like he wants her to - because it's not in the way that allows him to pretend he is THE hero, not the hero's boyfriend. Being important TO her doesn't actually matter, what he really wants is to feel superior, to be more important than her.

And even outside of the Slayer stuff: this dude really heard that his girlfriend's mother was potentially dying, and instead of thinking of how he can be there for her (something he CLAIMS he wants to do) all he can think about is "Why didn't she immediately call me? Why did she tell Spike first?" (I'm a spuffy fan, but come on, she only told Spike because he just happened to show up at the very second she was ready to open up about it and just needed a shoulder to cry on). Everything, even his girlfriend's struggle with the possibility of her parent dying and her needing to step up as a parent to her sibling, needs to be about HIM, his feelings, his wants and needs.

The fucker even has the nerve to cheat on her during all of this. Compare that to Angel going to Sunnydale to give her emotional support after Joyce died, or Spike comforting her before even knowing WHY she was crying and then sending flowers without a card to honor her mom and offer Buffy some compassion, but without disrespecting her very explicit "stay away from me, Spike." It's very clear which of these three guys never actually cared about her, even a little bit.

Hell, Riley is 100% sure that the only way for Buffy to "prove" her love is to suffer for him. Her sister tells him "I like you much more than her ex, you would never break her heart like he did" - and somehow, he doesn't take that as "Buffy and her family fully trust that I'm a good guy that would never do anything to hurt her" (something Buffy herself says to Angel's face in his show) but rather as a "Nothing I do would ever hurt her because she doesn't actually love me the way she loved Angel."

Not to mention: his assumption that Buffy was only ever attracted to Angel because he was a vampire, and thus any other vampire like Draculla or Spike could easily steal her from him, just shows how much he didn't understand her at all.

Buffy started crushing on Angel thinking he was just a normal human that knew about the supernatural and wanted to fight the good fight. She didn't find out about him being a vampire until he lost control for a second and went vamp-face after their first kiss, and it freaked her out.

She fangirled for a second meeting Dracula, but man, come on, OF COURSE the slayer will be excited to see the most popular vampire ever, and she was more than willing to kill him. The whole reason there were any flirty vibes between them was because the dude had literal mind-control powers.

Spike is the closest Buffy ever got to "dating a vampire because he is a vampire" and that was because she was literally craving death. Even then, she was horrified at her own attraction to him, AND there was a different side to their relationship, with Buffy liking Spike because he was the one person that wasn't disappointed and resenting her for being depressed.

For fuck's sake, she had a thing for PLENTY of normal guys - RILEY VERY MUCH INCLUDED!

He was the one that only cared about "who is stronger" and kept insisting that Buffy was the same even after overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

And for the show to then make HER go after him, make HER all sad when he is dating someone else, make one of her closest friends blame HER for everything that went wrong in their relationship, and then make HER basically claim he was right with bullshit lines like "I wasn't there for him like I was for Angel" is ridiculous - specially when, again, what made Buffy want to be with Riley in the first place was her trying to not fall into another unhealthy relationship like the one she had with Angel. They were codependent and when he left it nearly destroyed her. OF COURSE she's gonna try not being as obsessed with the next boyfriend (or with the one after him) because she knows that shit doesn't end well.

Again, say what will about both Angel and Spike, but at least Angel walked away after realizing their relationship was a dead-end that would never make Buffy truly happy, and Spike put himself through hellish torture to get his soul back and make sure he'd be a better man who would never make Buffy suffer.

RILEY being framed as "the perfect guy Buffy couldn't appreciate and let get away" is just insulting. Of all the guys Buffy has ever been with, he is the one that deserved her the least.

[northrnfool]

Something else I noticed rewatching Thor, the Avengers, and the Loki series:

There is a noticeable shift away from focusing on Loki’s relationship to Odin and Thor to his relationship with Frigga. In the movies, Frigga’s importance to Loki is kind of there but certainly not the focus, we mostly see how his actions affect his father and brother (while disregarding the impact that their patriarchal world had on him). In the Loki series there is very little mention of Thor and Odin, instead it focuses more on how his actions affected his mother: Mobius showed him the video of Frigga trying to reason with Loki, he also used her death to get a rise out of him, Brad later accused Loki of making things harder for Mobius, B-15, and his mother (no mention of his father and brother), and when talking with Sylvie in season 1, Loki reminisced only about his mother and her belief in him.

Then, today, I listened to a podcast about fairytales and the host talked about how actual fairies weren’t actually common in them universally but magic was. Magic is present in fairytales because it allows for the possibility of transformation, the hope of change. It made me think about how important Frigga was for Loki’s ability to transform in this series; she taught him his magic, something that give him his own identity in a world that was dominated by brute male power and strength. Without her nurturing, who knows what Loki would have become in Asguard.

Even though Odin acted like he saved Loki because he took him from Jötunheim where he was left to die, Loki really only had an opportunity to live because of Frigga. Fast forward to the Loki series and in 2x06, we were told by Mobius that Renslayer (another power-driven authoritarian) is the reason Loki isn’t dust in a TVA vent, giving her the undeserved credit for saving Loki, when in reality it was actually Mobius’ belief in him, his nurturing, that saved Loki.

I then realized the parallel between Frigga and Mobius: both are compassionate and nurturing, both of them believed in Loki when no one else would, and they both gave him something he took into his transformation in the end of the series: She gave him his magic, that beautiful green magic that allowed him to give life to the timelines and Mobius offered his “heart of gold” to Loki, the gold that holds together the pieces of his crown and envelopes his throne. Both gave him the opportunity to not just live but become his best self.

[lunarnightt]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ― PROLOGUE

Soulmates? What is a soulmate? A soulmate is someone who you feel a deep connection with, someone you are ultimately bounded to for the rest of your life and possibly in the next one. 

In the Jedi Order, a soulmate is assigned to each Jedi upon achieving the rank of Knight. This tradition symbolizes the maturity gained after leaving behind the role of Padawan. The connection is believed to help ground Jedi emotionally, serving as a reminder to resist the pull of hatred—a path that leads to the dark side of the Force.

Every Jedi Master has a soulmate, every knight has one as well. 

The soulmate bond can be either a blessing or a curse, depending on who fate pairs you with—sometimes even a mix of both. For some, the connection becomes a source of strength, while others exploit it as a means of power over those without one. After all, not every Jedi is granted a soulmate, and even when they are, their partner is rarely another Jedi. Instead, soulmates often come from outside the Order, adding complexity to an already delicate dynamic.

Jedi are strictly forbidden from forming attachments with anyone outside the Order, a rule that often complicates the soulmate bond. The Grand Master holds firm to the belief that such relationships pose a threat, potentially leading a Jedi toward the dark side of the Force. While this notion might seem far-fetched or overly cautious, history has proven otherwise. Past transgressions have shown how love and loyalty can cloud judgment, and as the saying goes, history has a way of repeating itself.

For many years, soulmates were strictly forbidden among the Jedi, even if two individuals felt the natural pull of such a bond. The Council believed that any attachment, even one between Jedi, could lead to dangerous emotional entanglements. That all changed years ago, during my father Qui-Gon Jinn's time as a Padawan. It was during this period that the Order, in a rare moment of leniency, allowed Jedi to acknowledge and embrace their soulmates. This decision paved the way for him to meet my mother, forever altering the course of his life—and mine.

My mother passed away during childbirth, and all I know of her comes from stories told by others. They describe her as a beautiful soul and a remarkably powerful Jedi. Beyond that, I know little about her. My memories of my father, Qui-Gon Jinn, are only slightly clearer. He died when I was just nine years old, leaving me with only fragments of moments to hold onto. Still, I knew more about him than I did about her.

What I do know is that they both loved me deeply—my father, especially. He often told me how much I reminded him of her, particularly in my personality. After his passing, his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, stepped into my life as a protective older brother, helping to care for me until I was assigned a master. That master was Yoda, who quickly became a father figure to me, offering the guidance and support I desperately needed in those early years.

Of course, I was always beyond excited at the thought of meeting my soulmate—eager to understand firsthand the connection my father had shared with my mother. I dreamed of experiencing that same profound bond for myself. But at the same time, I couldn't ignore the reality: depending on who you're paired with, soulmates can be vastly overrated.

Especially if it's Anakin Skywalker.

A/N— Hello, my babies! Lookie here! The prologue of Anything but you! As always, give your feedback in the comments! I hope you guys enjoyed it! I love you all!