#{ but it's time to turn the page that's what life is about :) }

[alotofpockets]

Practice makes perfect | Leah Williamson x Reader

Where you and Leah practised kissing each other to prepare for kissing boys, but you quickly realise that after that you don't want to kiss anyone but her

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.5k

-----

As the only two girls on the boys' team growing up, you and Leah clicked right away. Football brought you together, but it was everything else about her that kept you close. Not many people had stuck around in your life the way Leah had. From meeting at six years old to now, a decade later, she was still your best friend.

The football dream was becoming reality for the both of you. The young Lionesses and Arsenal Academy were where you spend most of your time besides school or each other’s houses. The two of you were inseparable and everyone knew it. Where you went Leah went, and visa versa.

“Remember when we were like twelve and we practised kissing?” Leah asks you out of nowhere while you’re sitting in her bed and playing video games. You think back to the moment.

It was a similar situation to this one, you were having a sleepover and had just finished watching a romcom. “How do you know if you’re gonna be a good kisser if you’ve never kissed someone before?” Leah asked with a voice filled with curiosity. 

“I have no clue. Why don’t they show those parts in the movies?” You turned off the tv and pulled the covers further over your body. “Exactly! Like when I kiss a guy for the first time, I want to make sure that like I can kiss him properly, you know?” 

You nodded, understanding her concerns. “What if we practised kissing together? Then we can tell each other if we’re any good.” Leah loved your idea and instantly sat up in bed again. “You are brilliant!” 

She made you sit up as well and once you did she double checked if it was okay. When you nodded in confirmation, she leaned in and pecked your lips. “How did I do?” She instantly asked. “Good I think, what about me?” She smiled proudly, “Nice, you as well.” 

You had practised a couple more times that night, and when you both liked boys, you had practised some more so that the first kisses you would have with them would be perfect.

“Yeah, I remember.” In the meantime Leah had paused the game to fully focus on the conversation she wanted to have. “I was wondering if maybe we could practise something again.”

“What do you want to practise?” You asked to urge her to go on. “Well, I heard from some girls in our class that they’ve been making out with their boyfriends, and they talked about how it goes and everything, but even with that information I don’t feel even remotely ready to just make out with a guy. So, I thought that maybe, if you’re up for it of course, we could practise like we did before?”

Even with the introduction Leah gave, her question still caught you off guard. Leah’s hopeful eyes were hard to ignore while you thought about her question. “Just so we don’t totally embarrass ourselves when the time comes.”

"Yeah, exactly! I don’t want to make things weird between us though, you can totally say no.” She quickly added.  “It’s not weird.” you said shifting to sitting cross-legged, facing Leah, on her bed. “We’re just practising.”

Leah’s face lit up with relief, “Exactly, Just practising.” She turned to sit cross-legged as well. She told you how your classmates had described making out, so you were both on the same page. 

“So, eh,” you cleared your throat, “do we just go for it?” Leah let out a nervous laugh, “I guess so?” You nodded, which Leah took as her sign to start leaning in. She inched closer slowly, until her lips brushed yours. 

At first she just pecked your lips like you had practised before. Your heart started beating faster, but you didn’t understand why. Her soft, warm lips on yours felt familiar, yet somehow different. “Still okay?” She asked to make sure you wanted to do this as well. “Yeah.”

You leaned in this time and let your lips move in sync with hers. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as Leah reached out her hand and cupped your cheek to pull you a little closer. 

When she pulled back after a few moments, her eyes searched yours. “How was that?” 

Your brain felt like it was running a million miles an hour, and you were scrambling to find words. “Good.” You managed finally. “What about me?” Leah’s lips quirked into that proud smile she had done last time, “Good too.” 

A feeling came over you that you had never felt before, you couldn’t quite place it, but before you could overthink it, Leah was leaning in again. “Practice makes perfect, right?” she said softly, and when you didn’t move away, her lips were on yours again.

That night while Leah slept soundly besides you, your mind wouldn’t stop racing. Trying to make sense of what you were feeling. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks later when you saw Leah kiss a boy in your class, that you realised what was happening. The moment you saw the two of them together, you felt a pang of jealousy. All you knew in that moment was that you weren’t jealous of Leah in that moment, but you were jealous of him. 

You turned on your heels and got away from the situation as quickly as possible. Of course, you headed straight over to the football field. The one place where everything felt right. You must’ve spent hours kicking a ball around until your parent’s called asking when you’d be home. “No Leah tonight?” Your mom had asked when you walked in, seemingly without the blonde by your side. You hadn’t even thought about it, but usually Leah would join you on Fridays. “Eh, no not tonight.” You say quickly. “Do I have time for a quick shower?” Your mom nodded and you rushed to your room. 

You checked your phone and sure enough you had a bunch of messages from Leah. The last one read I hope everything is alright. Couldn’t find you at school so I headed home. Please text me back!

You didn’t text Leah back that night, or the next morning. It wasn’t that you were mad at her, of course you weren’t, you didn’t think you ever could be, but you just didn’t know what to say. Every time you thought about her, you saw that boy’s lips on hers. Every time you saw it play back in your mind, it made your chest ache.

But Leah was Leah. Persistent, stubborn, and your best friend. So, it didn’t take her long to just show up at your house unannounced. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” She stated from your doorframe, after your dad had let her in. She found you laying on the floor with one of your textbooks in front of you, trying to bury yourself into your homework. “What’s going on?” 

You glanced at her and then quickly focused back on your textbook. “Nothing.” Leah shook her head and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Liar.” She sighed, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” You said a little too quickly and defensive for Leah to believe it. She crossed her arms and leaned against your door, studying you like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “I just need some space.” You said softly, unable to meet her eye.

“Since when do we do space?” Her voice softened. She walked further into your room and sat down on the edge of your bed. “Come on, talk to me.”

You wanted to. You wanted to tell her everything. You always told Leah everything, but how could you tell her about your feelings? How could you tell her that you were jealous of a guy she kissed? Talk about the way your heart raced when you made eye contact with her? 

“I’m fine, Lee.” You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes and Leah could tell. You saw that she was fighting her inner monologue to press further, her lips parting like she was about to. Before she could say anything, your mother yelled upstairs, “Leah, honey, are you staying for dinner?”

Leah turned to you, “Do you want me to go?” You shake your head, “No, it’s okay. You can stay.” She opened the door and told your mom she would love to before turning back to you. “I’m gonna help her with dinner, you know, so you can have some more space.” This time you noticed her smile not fully reaching her eyes, but before you could say anything, she had already closed the door behind herself.

You stopped ignoring Leah, because you knew she would just find a way in, but that didn’t mean that your interactions were any less awkward, well at least for you. From Leah’s side it seemed like nothing had happened, while you questioned every interaction you had with her.

When she laughed at your jokes, or let her hand linger on your arm or leg, everything made your skin feel like it was on fire.

A few weeks later Leah was picking out her prom outfit with her mom. She had tried on a bunch of dresses, but none of them seemed to be what she was looking for. Today was the last chance of finding something, since prom was literally tonight. So, Amanda was determined to spend the whole morning driving from store to store until they found something.

It was the third store of the morning where Leah’s eyes fell on a baby blue suit, and she knew instantly that that was going to be the one. Her mom encouraged her to put it on, and the smile on her daughter’s face was exactly the reason why she had.

“This is going to be the one!” Leah said as she admired the suit in the mirror. “It’s lovely Leah Cathrine.” Leah smiled big, “Thank you.” After paying for the clothes, the pair headed back to the car.

“Oh mom, I wanted to ask if you could drive y/n and me tonight.” Her mom’s brow furrowed. “Darling of course I would, but I thought y/n wasn’t going?” Leah looks at her mom as if she was crazy. “What makes you think that?”

“Oh well, because that’s what she said yesterday. She said she wasn’t really feeling up to going.” Leah didn’t understand, you hadn’t told her anything. “But she was so excited about it and had her outfit picked out like months ago already. Do you know why she isn’t going?”

Amanda shakes her head, “I don’t know.” Leah was quick to respond. “You didn’t push further?” Amanda chuckles lightly, “No, that’s more your thing, darling.”

Leah sat back in the seat and crossed her arm, going over what she could do. “Can you drive me to her place tonight?” She nodded, “Sure, darling.”

You were watching a movie in your sweats when you heard a knock on the door. When you opened the door, Leah stood in front of you with a small bouquet of flowers. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at prom?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Leah shoots back instantly. “I’m not going Lee, you should still go though. I’m sure your boyfriend would like you to be there.”

“Boyfriend?” Leah steps inside and closes the door behind her. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a boyfriend.” You shrug your shoulders, “I saw you and Steve kiss, figured you two were together.”

“Oh no definitely not.” Leah said defensively, “He kissed me, and I told him that I wasn’t interested.” You searched her eyes for anything to prove what she was saying wrong, but she seemed sincere. “Oh.”

“So, come to prom with me?” Leah said, holding out the bouquet to you. “Sorry, Lee, I can’t.” She retracted the flowers reluctantly. “Why not?”

Her question hung in the air. Again you wanted to tell her, but you just couldn’t. “I just can’t, please drop it.” But Leah was Leah and there wasn’t any scenario in which she would drop this. “I won’t drop it. You’ve been excited about your outfit, the music, the pictures. You’ve been talking about prom non-stop for months and now you’re here in sweats not going. Please just tell me what’s going on. If I did something, let me in and let me fix it.” Her plea sounded desperate.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, and there is nothing you can fix.” You sighed in frustration, wishing she would just drop it. “Did someone else do something? Please just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine, okay, I’ll tell you.” Leah focussed on you instantly, not having expected you to break so soon. “I can’t go to prom with you because ever since we practised making out, all I can think about is wanting to kiss you again.” 

Your eyes were looking anywhere but Leah, not ready to see the way she would react to that confession. “Please look at me.” She slowly reached up her hand to your cheek to turn your head to face her. You expected anger, disgust, or even hurt in her eyes, but instead you were met with softness. 

“You know the reason I told Steve I wasn’t interested?” You shook your head. “It’s because after he kissed me, I felt nothing. Which was a stark opposite to how I felt when we kissed. I swear it was just practise when I asked you, but I think that was exactly what I needed to realise my feelings for you.” Leah confessed. 

You stare at her for a moment, taking in the confession. She liked you the same way that you liked her? The corners of your lips slowly rose as it was all coming together in your head. And then without hesitation, you lean in and kiss her for real this time. She kissed you back instantly, and pulled you closer like she had done last time. It felt even better than your time practising, now knowing your feelings for each other.

When Leah pulled away, she leaned her forehead against yours. “So, prom?” Your smile grew. “Yes, just let me get changed.” 

You rushed to your room and quickly got ready. “Wow, you look amazing!” Leah said as you walked back downstairs. “So do you!” You pecked her lips appreciatively. She took your hand and pulled you out the door where her mom was still waiting in the driveway. “Ready to go to prom, girls?” She knew by your happy faces that whatever was going on between the two of you these past weeks, was resolved. “Yeah, more than ready.” You said and Leah squeezed your hand. “Yeah, let’s go.”

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[rememberwren]

Dichotomy of Thought || 11

Past and further chapters here.

Simon and Johnny make up.

|| Chapter warnings: Anal fingering, anal sex, baby-trapping, medication tampering, medication control.

-

Your boyfriend manages your medications, a one-man pharmacy. 

Every morning the pills are waiting for you on the table in the foyer beside where you deposit your keys in the evening. There are two of them. 

The first is oblong, tan. Your boyfriend hoards and hides the bottle, but you’d fished the information pamphlet that came from the pharmacy out of the trash, and you know everything there is to know about it from that page jam-packed with text. Sertraline, 50mg. Otherwise known as Zoloft. Just swallowing the tasteless pill makes you remember the even darker days than the ones you’re living now, the ones that had led you to that waiting room with your boyfriend in the seat beside you waiting for a doctor to see you. How do I know if I’m depressed, you had asked the doctor, bold as anything even with your boyfriend’s hand on your knee, or if my life just isn’t worth living? 

You’d learned. By God, you’d learned. 

The other pill is your birth control. Round, sometimes blue, sometimes white, depending on where you are in your cycle. Today it is white and—

It looks—different. 

He wouldn’t, you think to yourself, thumb nudging at the pill in your palm, like seeing it from a different angle might jog your memory of it. He wouldn’t do that. A kid is the last thing he wants. He wouldn’t sacrifice his own freedom just to keep you trapped underneath his thumb. 

Except—wouldn’t he? 

“Hurry it up,” he says, yawning, like you kept him up late last night. “I want to go back to bed.” 

You try to take a picture of the pill in your mind before you drop it onto your tongue, taking a swig from your water tumbler, but your brain feels so scrambled that you forget it right away. You can’t even remember the color—had it truly been white, or had it been the pale sky blue of  robin’s egg?

It goes down like a lump of chalk. He makes you show him your empty mouth before he’s satisfied that you aren’t cheeking the pills, and then he kisses you and tells you to have a good day at work, honey. 

-

“Rooster wants you in his office,” Jackie says under her breath, helping you hurriedly clear one of your tables. You’re slow with the splint on your smallest finger, the throb of pain lancing all the way up your wrist each time you use the damaged hand. Jackie has been an angel in khakis picking up your slack. 

You wish that you had one of the pills that they’d given you in the emergency department. It hadn’t taken away all of the pain, but it’d made your head feel light and floaty and like you could care less if all your fingers were broken. Or maybe you wanted one of Johnny’s pills—the ones that put him in a peaceful sleep. You haven’t had such a thing in so long that you can’t remember when, even your moments of relaxation tainted until ‘rest’ is just waiting for the next act of violence. 

“What does he want?” you ask. 

“Probably to tell you about the raise,” she says. She rolls her eyes and twirls a fingers, mouth set in a grim smile of comradery. “Fifty cents. Writing home about it as we speak. Or maybe he wants to grill you about who keeps stealing from the registers—like we all don’t know it’s Ruth.” 

Fifty cents. You can’t even turn up your nose at it. Every penny is one that brings you closer to that apartment across town. With a promise that you’ll return as quickly as you can, you step off the floor (avoiding making eye contact with any customers who would happily sideway you for refills or to complain) and into the back of the house. It’s quiet back here, cooler. Rapping your knuckles against Rooster’s door, you wait. 

There’s no response, and no sign of him in the hallway. Some of the line cooks are coming in, filtering toward the break room to start their shift. You feel their eyes on you as you stand impotently outside the door. One of them says something to the other, and there is laughter, too loud and boisterous for the enclosed space. Your heart has begun to pound, sweat breaking out at the nape of your neck. 

“Hey,” one of them says to you. 

“Hi,” you mutter, forcing a smile, unable to make eye contact. 

Still there is no sign of Rooster from either end of the hallway—never would you have considered the short man your savior. Heart racing, you crack the door open and see that the office is empty. You slip inside, shutting the door safely behind you. 

The room is as self-important as you might imagine: a desk that seems too large for the space, filing cabinets in the corner. There’s a corkboard pockmarked with holes after years of use, and you drift over to it, too anxious to take a seat in the chair on the other side of Rooster’s desk. A calendar is posted there, Rooster’s neat handwriting here and there. 

Something catches your eye: LOCKER CLEANOUT marked for two weeks from now. 

It seemed like the last locker cleanout had just happened. You had only collected five hundred dollars back then, but it was far too much to want to explain to Rooster, and you had nowhere else to stash it that was safe. In the end, it had sat in an envelope under the driver’s seat of your car while Rooster took the week and went through each of the lockers to ensure compliance with the restaurant’s rules (all because someone used to have a penchant for leaving snack cakes in their locker leading to a bad case of ants that almost led to the restaurant being shut down). It had been the longest week of your life, like driving around with a live bomb underneath the front seat. 

Now you have nearly two thousand dollars. Where the hell were you going to put it? 

The door opens. Rooster looks at you suspiciously, eyes flickering between you and the calendar. 

“Next time, wait outside,” he says, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. It makes your skin crawl to be alone with him, even if he’s never done anything slimier than asking you to pull a double shift. You know the darkness that lies inside men. All men. 

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, taking his seat in a squeaky rolling chair behind the desk. His smile is a dismal, strained thing, like interacting with you is just as painful for him as it is for you. “Next time, just wait.”  

-

Johnny and Simon spend the day in bed. 

Johnny’s knee is propped up on a pillow, red and swollen. Simon lets his fingers hover over it, gentle, feeling the warmth of Johnny’s skin. Johnny winces, like even the brush of air against his knee hurts. 

“It looks infected,” says Simon. 

“It’s not.” It can’t be. Johnny can’t handle that—can’t handle the idea of having to go through the surgery on his knee again, the recovery, the way recovery is just synonymous with pain. No, it isn’t infected. “Just looks like that because he hit it.” 

Simon leans down and brushes his mouth against Johnny’s thigh. It’s meant to be sweet but—well. It’s the closest his mouth has been to Johnny’s cock in more than six months, and just the sight of it has Johnny’s heart skipping a beat and picking up again in double-time, his face growing flush. Not privy to Johnny’s thoughts, all Simon does is press a chaste kiss to the skin a few inches above where Johnny’s swelling starts—nevermind what else might be swelling now, too. 

The two of them lay entwined together, Simon curling up around him. He plants a hand on Johnny’s clothed chest, right over his heart, like he’s trying to remind himself that Johnny’s here. That Johnny’s alive. The look in his eyes is far away, mouth drawn down into a tight frown. All at once, Johnny’s downright sick of it—sick of them not having anything to smile about. Sick of fighting. 

Johnny takes Simon’s hand, laces their fingers, and guides it down. Down over his slim, firm belly, watching from the corner of his eye as Simon’s brows climb up his forehead. Down until their hands cup his half-hard cock. Simon’s hand shifts straight away, fingers curling around the solid length, thumb stroking up the side, the gentle rasp of his calloused fingerpad loud against the cotton of Johnny’s boxers. 

“You’re hurt,” Simon reminds him. 

“Don’t care.” 

“I do.” 

“We don’t have to fuck. I just—” he doesn’t know how to explain, how badly he needs to feel something good. How badly he needs to know that his connection with Simon isn’t ruined. How badly he needs to see that they’re still lovers, that Simon isn’t just his live-in caretaker. How badly Johnny needs to feel like a human being—like a grown man. He finishes, a little lamely: “I just need it.” 

Simon’s grip goes firm. Johnny’s eyes shut, mouth falling open at the sensation. He hasn’t even touched himself like this in weeks, and while he hadn’t necessarily been keeping track, his cock clearly has been. Simon seems content to go on like this, mapping the shape of Johnny’s cock through his boxers, thumbing over the head until a wet sticky spot appears in the cotton fabric, his hand sometimes drifting down to cradle the warm heft of Johnny’s balls. 

Johnny, usually impatient, contents himself with this torture. Let Simon tease him all day, if he’d like, until Johnny is liable to go off at the whisper of a touch. The thought has his cock jerking toward the warmth of Simon’s palm, and Johnny groans when his grip tightens. 

“Fucking pretty, aren’t you?” Simon mutters, his eyes on Johnny’s face.

Johnny snorts. He tosses his arm over his eyes, but beneath his arm, he’s grinning. “Shuddup.” 

Simon clicks his tongue. “Be good, Johnny. Let me look at you.” 

Johnny moves his arm and gives his grin room to breathe. His head feels light and airy as Simon sits up and helps him work his boxers down his thighs just far enough to draw his cock out. The first touch of skin on skin has him hissing a breath in through his teeth. Fuck, it’s good. Just as good as it always was—maybe even better, because he needs it so bad. 

“Want you inside me,” Johnny says on a whim, feeling the truth of it in his chest. He doesn’t just want it—he needs it. 

Simon leans down and kisses him, just a little too hard to be mistaken as anything but desperate. How long has it been for him, Johnny wonders. He spends every waking moment with Johnny except his perfunctory showers. Does he indulge then, between soaping and rinsing off, holding his breath to hide his sounds while he strips his cock with one slick hand? 

It takes some maneuvering to get Johnny on his side, knee nicely cushioned. He can’t reach back and touch Simon, can’t grip his hip and pull him in closer, and it’s just another reason to miss his arm. Because there are a hundred thousand touches Simon deserves that Johnny can’t give him anymore. 

They’re lucky for the shelf life of the lube. It warms Simon’s fingers as he works them past Johnny’s rim. He takes his time, hands shaking where they touch him. 

“Need it bad, huh?” Johnny wonders. 

Simon snorts but doesn’t deny it. Just curls his fingers searching for that tender spot inside Johnny’s ass that makes him grit his teeth. His cock drools onto the bedspread, red and throbbing with his heartbeat. By the time Simon slips inside him, chest to Johnny’s back, Johnny feels liable to go off at a moment’s notice. 

For all the time they haven’t fucked, Simon remembers everything: the way to touch Johnny,wrapping a strong arm around his chest to make up for the one Johnny lacks, fingers playing with the whorls of Johnny’s chest hair or teasing one of his nipples; the way to angle his hips to nail Johnny’s prostate. 

“Quit,” Johnny groans, shifting until the stimulation isn’t so good, so dead-on. His cock aches, balls heavy and tight. “I don’t want to cum yet. Don’t want this to be over.” 

“Can’t miss Johnny; dick’s too big.” 

Johnny guffaws. The sound nearly startles him—when was the last time he fucking laughed? With you in the park—but he doesn’t need to be thinking about you now, not you with your small, soft hands and the curve of your mouth…

“Fuck—touch my cock, please touch my cock—“ Johnny whines, body trembling. He’s right there, right fucking there, too close to go back now, fuck it all, he wants to cum. Simon’s strong fingers curl around his cock and strip it firmly, and the pleasure inside him bubbles up and over, left too long to simmer. He nearly headbutts Simon in the face, his body shaking and jerking and cum splatters against his belly and the bedspread and down over Simon’s fingers. 

“Just like that—so good, Johnny,” Simon murmurs. His pale hand grips at Johnny’s sharp hipbone, cum smearing against Johnny’s skin. “My turn.” 

Afterwards, Simon gently helps him undress and goes to get them both fresh clothes. Johnny’s knee throbs freshly just from his muscles tensing, but he barely feels it. For the first time since his accident, he thinks that maybe things will be okay. He has no arm—but so what? There are many with a lot less. He’s John fucking MacTavish. He can do this.

Simon has gone still at their closet, holding something in his hands. Johnny leans up on his elbows. 

“What is it?” he asks. “Did you find my lighter?”

Simon holds up with no preamble a skull-embossed balaclava. It’s worn, the fabric gone gray at its most threadbare spots, but the image imprinted on the front hasn’t faded.

“Blast from the past,” Johnny says, throat uncomfortably tight with an emotion he can’t name. “Thought you threw those out.” 

“Thought so too.” He doesn’t look eager to throw this one out though, his fingers tracing over the teeth, like he’s tracing the lipless mouth of a lover. 

“You miss it,” Johnny says, the glow of their sex fading rapidly. Of course Simon misses it. The military had been his entire life—until Johnny’s accident. Until Simon had discharged with him, to take care of him. Johnny hadn’t just blown apart his own life by going down in the helo in Kazakhstan, he had blown apart Simon’s life too. 

“No,” Simon says simply. “It’s not that.” 

Johnny frowns. “What is it, then?” 

“The night of the poker party—I was Ghost again. It was the only way I could…compartmentalize. Stomach it. I’d forgotten.” 

“Forgotten?”

Simon glances toward him. “Forgotten how useful Ghost could be.” Reaching up, Simon slips the balaclava over his head, adjusting it on instinct until it rests just right against the bridge of his nose. His hair is getting long, little blond strands visible, curling at the ends. 

“Now I want to fuck you again,” says Johnny, just to fill the air between them, and because sex used to be such an easy way to fill it. 

Simon doesn’t smile. 

“Johnny.”

“I was just teasin’—“

“Not that,” Simon says. Even his manner of speaking seems different, words clipped, tone short and no-nonsense. “What if I wanted to go visit our neighbor?”

The question lingers in the silence between them. Johnny swallows, the sound of his throat an audible click in the tense air. 

“You,” Johnny wonders, when he can speak again, “or Ghost?” 

Beneath the balaclava, Ghost smiles. 

[vigilskeep]

various and sundry artbook tidbits i found interesting (SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE VEILGUARD ARTBOOK. obviously)

faction & location stuff:

a sketch page from the very early days exploring shape languages for factions like elves, dwarves, wardens, the necropolis, tevinter, and rivain, also includes concepts for the mages’ college and the ben-hassrath

early rivain concept arts have npcs with a similar armour patterning to duncan’s, suggesting it’s a mark of his rivaini heritage like i always thought!

the depiction of the ““creation story”” suggests elves were mimicking the bodies of dwarves when they formed their own, not humans like i think mythal says in game flashbacks, which would make more sense timeline wise

there’s concept art of the city of ventus, which i believe is of particular relevance to mercar players? it’s right on the border of arlathan forest, and surrounded by magical statues holding out raised hands forming a ward along the tree line to keep it from encroaching

the home base was going to be a lovable fixer-upper of a ship given to us by isabela, named the dumat. this didn’t fit the spy theme they were originally going for, so they tried really really hard to make it a submarine without feeling anachronistic by making it sort of sea monster shaped. there are a lot of cutaways and schematics. they were going to give it a mystery engine that you would get light fetch quests to feed random objects: “ten dried lavender flowers, five quail’s eggs, three brass belt buckles, etc.....” the submarine then turned into an undersea mansion on the back of some giant shambling sea creature you would never get a good look at

later on there were some funny takes on the lighthouse specifically, like bringing back the sea creature theme to put it on the back of an interdimensional veil whale, or having it be the true location of the black emporium with a collection of eluvians that xenon the antiquarian lets you use

there’s a tiny concept art for a “high-speed aravel chase” in a canyon like a western

tevinter gladiators are mentioned a couple times. we WEREEE going to get to see the minrathous proving grounds :( there’s also a dwarven embassy concept art somebody take me out back and shoot me

there are a lot of ghilan’nain creature designs that didn’t make it into the game which is a shame but i can see why they would have been resource heavy

the antiva concept arts are so gorgeous. a lot of it got through! and definitely the overall Vibe made it. at some point it seems to have been antiva city itself; they don’t call it treviso and they mention the circle of magi as a major landmark

“The entrance to the Necropolis is like an inverted Tower of Babel. They seek knowledge in the grave instead of heaven.” <- this just rules as a line

for arlathan: “To differentiate it from previous forest and jungle locations in Dragon Age, we went with an autumnal colour palette. It has the benefit to feeling ominously like the end.”

the veil jumpers have a “skull halla” symbol that “implies their willingness to risk death”. did that end up in the game?

“With each faction, we explored a range of aspirational fantasies. For the Wardens, this ranged from knights in shining armour to butal tanks to a Nietzche quote: ‘Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster.’”

there’s this concept among the warden armours for an insane orlesian noblewoman look with the winter palace morrigan corset and a piled high wig, but the skirts torn knee length and a serrated fan in hand. i’m kind of obsessed

“To bring more life to the world, we thought about what industries would keep the Anderfels afloat. We took the prominent Warden blue colour and envisioned an industry harvesting flowers, creating dye, and then weaving copious amounts of blue fabric.” this is probably where the flower quests in the hossberg wetlands started off conceptually? v cute

character stuff:

in completely different early versions of the game, solas had a “bad cop” right hand woman called reva

imshael the desire demon/choice spirit from the masked empire and inquisition was going to be a two-handed weapon warrior companion, and also sexualised now while in largely feminine form, which would have been a Choice. there is one art of him in masculine form, also sexy but still not showing as much skin as the feminine one

as i said, neve was going to be calpernia

taash was a rogue. (they’re still a light-armoured dual wielder so that checks out.) it seems like davrin was briefly a mage. at some points harding seems to have inherited bianca

saarbrak, another qunari companion, seems to have lastest the longest of the abandoned concepts. he’s the only non-canon one who got as far as having a place for him sketched into designs of the lighthouse: “saarbrak’s planning room”. mentions and sightings of what might be him are sporadic and i think you only see his name on that sketch, but i’m connecting it to the description “a potential qunari companion evolved from saarebas to dapper qunari spy, offering a deeper look into qunari culture”

the embroidery on harding’s clothes is how she passes the time while “waiting for days in a sniper perch” on missions. i just thought that was cute

[kvroomi]

artist!reader and skater!suna who you first meet in college one morning when you’re running late for class, carrying a comedically large portfolio across the campus square. your head is buried deep in your phone, checking for last-minute updates on the class. that’s when an abrupt gust of wind shoots across your face and forces your head up instantly, only to see a skater soaring past with hardly an inch of space between you. 

“what the hell, watch it!” you yell, immediately stepping backward and using both hands to grasp your portfolio tightly. 

the skater remains undisrupted, gazing forward and only casually waving a hand back to call, “my bad!” 

artist!reader with skater!suna who you see again, a week after almost knocking you over. coincidentally enough, he's sat at the exit steps to the art building, tying his shoelaces with his skateboard next to him.

"fucking prick." you walk straight past, muttering under your breath.

he must have heard you because, within seconds, he's walking by your side. "no way! you're the girl from last week. don't tell me you're still mad about the other morning! it was an accident." he throws his hands up in disbelief.

you ignore him and continue walking.

artist!reader with skater!suna who is determined to befriend you after your brief interaction. he waits at the same steps of the art building until your classes finish, skating up to you when he spots your familiar figure. he attempts to strike up a conversation by commenting on how "serious" you always look, and it's then that you bite back with a witty retort and he grins.

"took you long enough to talk to me."

artist!reader and skater!suna who both hang out at the skatepark together one afternoon. you're practicing your motion sketches, discreetly observing suna skate and using him as a reference for your drawings. 

suna walks over to you, leaning on his board. “whatcha drawing, picasso?”

“you,” you say without looking up. his heart skips and he can feel his face grow warm.

“oh yeah?” he peers over your shoulder. “do i look cool?”

“you’d look cooler if you didn’t wipe out every five minutes,” you deadpan, flipping to another page.

“alright, picasso,” he says, with a roll of his eyes. “let’s see you try then.”

and that’s how you find yourself on top of suna’s skateboard, gripping his shoulders for dear life.

“relax, you’ll be fine,” he says, holding your hands to steady you.

“easy for you to say,” you grumble, eyes wide as he starts to slowly push the board.

you don’t even make it five feet before you’re losing your balance and falling. suna doubles over laughing, pulling out his phone with a sinister grin. “hold still, i need a picture of this for the archives.”

“don’t you dare,” you warn, scrambling to your feet. but it’s too late—he’s already posting it on his story with the caption: skating > art

artist!reader who gives skater!suna the nickname deckhead, after a particularly grueling painting session. 

“can you please just focus for once?” standing up from your desk and tossing your paintbrush aside, you continue angrily. “i’m trying to get this done, and you’re just—”

“distracting?” suna interrupts, raising an eyebrow. “you’re the one acting like the world’s ending because you can’t paint a perfect line.”

there’s a sharp jab of irritation. "it’s not just about the line! i’ve been working nonstop on this, and all you’re doing is—"

he cuts you off again, this time with a half-smile. “i know, i’m sorry.”

you close your eyes to take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. but the words slip out before you can stop them. “god, you’re such a dickhead.”

the moment it slips past your lips, you feel the tension rise in the room. it’s silent but as if the universe had a sense of humor, you glare at his skateboard propped against the wall.

“no.” you scoff, shaking your head, your frustration turning into something more mocking. “you’re not even a real dickhead, you’re just a… deckhead.”

suna blinks, frozen for a second. “deckhead?”

you cross your arms, mouth curling into a sinister grin. “yeah, a deckhead—wandering around with that stupid board like it’s your whole personality. you just can’t be serious about anything!”

a beat.

and then he laughs. suna laughs. he laughs so hard that tears are forming in the corners of his eyes. he laughs so hard that you begin laughing too. 

suna sighs slowly, dropping his gaze to meet yours. “i didn’t realize you were genuinely getting upset. i promise i didn’t mean to make you feel worse.”

you let your head rest against your desk. “i know. i’m just frustrated because i’ve been at this for hours and it feels like i’m getting nowhere.” 

there’s a long pause before suna steps closer. “i’ll stop being a deckhead.” 

he grins and ruffles your hair. “... but only because i care.”

artist!reader who invites an incredibly eager skater!suna to one of your artsy gallery showcases. he surprises you by showing up in an actual button-down instead of his usual baggy jeans and shirts, bringing along his skater friends who also happen to be equally fond of you. upon seeing your work, they all begin hyping you up loudly, drawing eyes from surrounding exhibitions and sticking out like sore thumbs.

at one point suna leans in and whispers, "i'm pretty sure that guy over there is trying to steal your vibe."

confused, you turn to see a very serious art critic examining your painting and it takes all your effort to not burst out laughing.

skater!suna who shows up unannounced at artist!reader's studio with a blank skate deck and a set of paint markers.

"what's going on?" you'd just woken up from a nap and suna thought you looked absolutely adorable.

"empty canvas," he breathlessly replies, distracted by his newfound urge to just shrink you and keep you in his pocket. "i thought you could make it cooler." 

and he’s right because you do. 

“dude, where’d you get that?” atsumu asks, pointing at the board the next time suna is at the skatepark. 

“custom-made by that genius over there,” and suna proudly nods towards you, sat on the concrete of the park and deeply concentrated on a sketch.

artist!reader and skater!suna begin dating not through a grand confession, but just a subtle shift.

it happens when suna walks you to your class, a daily ritual that you've both become accustomed to, so it's almost instinctual the way he leans down and leaves a soft kiss on your cheek. you both pause, realizing what just happened, but instead of freaking out, you're clutching onto one another from outside your classroom laughing.

from then on, there's no formal conversation about it--just a mutual understanding. 

skater!suna who asks artist!reader to paint his nails black for him because he saw someone at the skate park with painted nails and thought they looked cool. you nod excitedly and oblige. by the end, suna’s nails are decorated perfectly in black, except for his ring finger which you sneakily managed to paint pink. 

when he notices, he glares at you, “really?”

“you wear it well,” you shrug in response.

artist!reader who stumbles across a notebook in skater!suna’s backpack when he asks you to grab his phone for him. you’re curious and can’t help but flip through it to find… doodles? 

you bring it back for him, his phone long forgotten. “are these supposed to be me?” 

“woah, what the fuck! where’d you find this?!” suna snatches the notebook, immediately shutting it closed before offering you a sheepish grin. “art is hard, okay? not all of us are picasso reincarnated.”

you’re flattered he’s been doodling you in his spare time. 

skater!suna who gets oddly competitive when other skaters are present at the skate park while you’re there. he pulls off more tricks than usual (which is already a lot because he’s always trying to impress you), but looks for your approval after every single one. 

he may have gotten a little too carried away because the next second he’s slipping from his board and now he’s landed flat on his back. he groans, embarrassed while you laugh. he watches you from the ground and wonders if he should make a fool of himself more often just to hear you laugh. he doesn’t let this show and instead rolls his eyes, getting up from the ground. 

“glad you’re entertained, y/n.”

skater!suna who loves to blast his music when practicing tricks vs. artist!reader who needs the quiet to focus. 

“riiiiin! can you turn it down, please? i’m trying to concentrate.” you yell at him.

“i’m literally landing this trick for you.” he replies teasingly, turning the music up even louder. 

you end up compromising with a pair of suna’s noise-cancelling headphones and he begrudgingly lowers the volume—slightly.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[xetlynn]

Arcane Imagines- Violet

Sweet and Sour

Requested by: @m0ranna "vi and a s/o who looks, seems and acts very soft but is actually a beast when fighting."

[arcane] [main page]

Summary: you and vi have been apart for some time, and when she sees you all the feelings come back.

“Hey, someone’s here for you.” Your only employee, Mexi says, you hum in response waving that you’re coming. You feel slightly grateful to stand up from your desk and be done with all the paperwork for just a moment. It’s been slow running Benzo’s old shop. Nobody has really come in, especially now with everything going on between Zaun and Piltover so money’s real tight.

 You walk out into the shop from behind the counter after your employee leads you there. You look up with crossed arms. “What can I do for you?” Asked with a fake interested tone.

“[Name]? You own the place now?” A familiar voice rings in your ears. Your eyes widened to look more clearly at your past friend/crush. “Violet?!” You jump over the counter, pulling her into a tight embrace. You hadn’t seen her since that horrible, idiotic heist that went so wrong. “Hey!” She holds you close to her, before pulling you back to get a better look at you. 

“You still have that sweet innocent look.” She whispers, pulling you into another hug. Taking in your scent as tears fills your eyes. “How did you get out?” You back away this time, holding onto her shoulders to make sure she doesn’t go away. “Uh, see that pilty officer out there.” She points to the dark haired lady standing outside the shop with her hands on her hips seemingly impatient. “Yeah?” 

“Her, I don’t know why but I’m not complaining.” Vi chuckles and you smile at her. “Want to invite her in?” It stuns her when you offer that, even Mexi was taken aback. She gets nervous, walking into the back so she doesn't have to speak to an officer. “Eh, she can experience the undercity a little more.” Vi waves it off, jumping onto the glass counter to sit down. 

“Looks the same in here.” She sadly sighs, browses the place. “Tried not to change it drastically. Benzo did a pretty good job.” You frown, thinking back to the man who was like a father to you. “Is Ekko…” 

“Nah, he’s doing his own thing now. Unfortunately it's the same with your sister.” You groan, reminding yourself of the blue-haired girl's antics with Silco. “Powder? What do you mean unfortunately?” Vi perks up. “She’s not really Powder anymore.” You start, hugging yourself as you think back to when Ekko begged you to fight with the fireflies. 

“Let’s talk about something else.” You pick up a random gadget, fidgeting with it in your left hand. “How’s the free life?” 

“I want to talk about Powder.” Vi gets off the counter, walking towards you. “Vi, no. You’ll find out on your own. I really don’t want to get into this.” You tell her simply, pleading silently with your facial expression. She wants to argue with you, beg for you to say more but she can’t. Not when your eyes are full of fear and sadness. You’ve always been so sweet-looking. So kind to people, giving them the benefit of the doubt. Which is rare in the undercity. It’s also stupid to most. 

“Okay, okay. I- I don’t know, I’ve only been free for a few hours. This was the first place I went to.” She averts eye contact now. “Hm, I’m the first person you wanted to see, huh?” You joke, there wasn’t really any other option sadly. “Of course.” Vi smirks, nudging your arm. 

“I’ve missed you.” You turn to her, pulling her into another hug. “I don’t want to let go of you. It’s like you’re going to disappear at any moment.” You whimper out, trying not to cry. Vi’s face softens, kissing the top of your head. “I promise I’m not leaving again.” Her hands go to your waist just letting you cling onto her. 

“I’ll kill you before you get the chance to leave me.” You say, causing her to scoff out a laugh. The door bells go off and you both let each other go to see that officer standing there. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Officer Caitlyn Kiramman.” She bows down to you before looking at Vi. “We should get going, I have important things to get to.” 

You raise a brow on why Vi needs to go with this lady so badly. Vi sighs. “Give me a moment.” She tells the officer whose face contorts into an annoyed expression. “I’ve given you quite a few moments to reunite with your girlfriend here.” Cait spits out, obviously very antsy to get where she needs to be. The both of you awkwardly glance at one another now with flushed faces.

“Uh, it’s alright. I’ll see you later Vi.” You chuckle, taking her hand in yours. “There’s a fight in that one arena we used to go to behind Vander and Benzo’s back. It’s huge and you should come. Just like old times.” You propose to her, your face full of hope that she agrees to come. 

“You can bring your bodyguard too.” You tease making her playfully roll her eyes. Cait tries to bite back a smile at the joke. “I’ll be there. I promise.” Vi squeezes your hand before letting go. “It’s at the usual time as well, I hope you remember.” You tell her as she leaves with the girl. “Oh I remember!” Vi calls back. 

When the door shuts behind them and the bells still ring in your ears you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Mexi comes out of hiding. “You two are dating?” She asks curiously. You choke on your spit. “Huh?” 

“Well the officer said you were her girlfriend and neither one of you denied it.” She shrugs her shoulders, taking out her box of things to put away. “Oh, I mean we had a small thing as children but I haven’t seen her in 7 years. I’m sure she doesn’t think about me that way.” You ramble, putting the gadget back that forgot you were holding. 

“I don’t know. The way she looked at you says otherwise.” Mexi winks, your face heats up. “Whatever.” You mutter, going back behind the counter and heading into the back to finish the paperwork you had. 

•••

Vi and Caitlyn rummage through the crowd of people, trying to find you. “I don’t know if we’re going to find her before the fight!” Cait shouts over the yelling and the music that blasted. “I’m gonna try!” Violet huffs, shoving past all the people, getting to the front where maybe she could spot you on the other side of the arena. Her eyes traveled through the sea of moving bodies. “C’mon.” She mutters to herself. She didn’t want you to think she didn’t come. She had only made it five minutes before the fight even started because of what Cait and her had to do. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen!!!” The announcer screams into the mic, only making everyone louder with their cheers. As he speaks, Vi only zones everything out, trying her hardest not to panic when attempting to find you. 

“Isn’t that her?” Cait points down into the arena with eyebrows scrunched together. Vi’s eyes shoot down to see you standing there against a large woman. “Shit, what’s she doing!?” Violet urgently asks, gripping onto Caitlyn. “I think she’s about to fight.” 

Vi gives her a dirty look, giving her attention back to the scene in front of her right as the announcer starts the fight. The woman attempts to attack you but you swerve out of the way. You look up to see Vi and Caitlyn. You blow them a kiss before turning to the woman and throwing a punch. 

The lady doesn’t dodge it in time, getting hit right in the eyebrow. She tries to throw hits at you but you maneuver around them, hitting her in the right places to cause her to stumble. Vi leans over the edge, now cheering for you. “Kick her ass!” She shouts. Even Caitlyn was amazed at your fighting skills. She wasn’t expecting that from someone so… cute and sweet looking. 

You swiped the lady's feet out from right under her. Going in for the punches. The larger lady attempts to push you away with no avail. 

But when she sees an opening after multiple hits to the face she shoves you off of her. Getting herself up. You roll away, jumping to your feet, you weren’t paying attention when she gets a hit to the middle of your face. Violet gasps, nails digging into Caitlyn’s arm. The dark blue haired girl doesn’t pay attention though. 

You spit out blood, wiping your mouth before going after the woman with more passion than before. Looking like a beast in the ring. You go right for her head, only taking a few hits for her to be back on the ground. 

Not even five minutes into the fight and you win. Leaving her knocked out. 

The announcer commentates as the crowd goes wild. Violet listens to all the people saying how little miss [Name] out there is undefeated. “Holy shit.” Cait whispers. You pump your fists into the air, jumping around for yourself. You have blood guzzling down your nose but you’re having a blast with the attention. You look up, locking eyes with Vi who has a look of bewilderment. You chuckle then motion with your head to the exit doors. She immediately understands what you’re saying. “Meet me at her shop, I’ll see you later.” Violet places a hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder before pushing through the crowd.

You and Vi used to sneak and see the fighters in the back frequently as children. Not to meet them or anything but just to say you were in the same room as them. Even then it was kept a secret between you both. 

She sneaks through the men guarding the doors and slips into the very first room she can. Hands snake around her from behind. “Hey!” You scare her, making her jump away from you. She turns with her fists up in defense. You roar into laughter, mimicking her stance. She pouts from being made fun off and smacks your arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you were fighting?! I didn’t even know you could do all that!” She exclaims as you grin. 

“I wanted it to be surprising! Wasn’t I so amazing out there?” You lift your arms, flexing your muscles. “Yeah but honestly I did not see that coming from someone so… adorable?” She tilts her head as she tries to find the right word to call you.

 “Awe I’m adorable?” You poke her side, heading over to the full body mirror in the room, taking the wraps off your hands. “I mean, you’ve always been pretty cute. Like y’know sweet looking. I’ve never seen you even hurt someone!” she maundered, speaking with her hands flailing trying to explain what she meant with bright red ears. 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. I don’t exactly enjoy being some beast fighter but it pays the bills.” You lean against the little table beside the mirror. Staring off into space at Vi’s shoes. “The shop not doing good?” Vi asks. “It’s seen better days. I have enough for everything except paying Mexi but I’m not letting her go. She’s helped way too much for me to do that.” You sigh, thinking about the young worker who you practically took under your wing. 

“So you risk yourself so you don’t have to fire just one person.” She quizzes and you go to defend your actions but she just snickers. “Gosh you really are too sweet for your own good, [Name]. I love you so much.” She holds her stomach as she laughs. Amused by how kind you are. “You love me?” You attempt to tease her but her face drops, realising what she said. “I mean, yeah! I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” She speaks so nonchalantly it catches you off guard. When she said she loved you, you thought of it as a family thing. Not romantic. You weren’t upset but your mind was spiraling now. 

“I’m sorry if it’s too much. I don’t even know if you have a partner already or something. I’ve been gone for so long I just. I’ve never stopped thinking about you even though we were only 15.” She over-explains, and you go up to her, putting a finger to her lips. “I love you too, Violet. I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed you.” You tell her earnestly, your hand going to her cheek. 

Her shoulders drop, relieved by your words. “Oh thank god, I thought I had just scared you or something. I feel so stupid.” You shush her with a small laugh. “I forgot how much you talk when you’re nervous.” You whisper as she plants her forehead on yours. “I only do it with you.” She shamefully admits. 

“Mm, really?” You ask before locking your lips on hers. She moans into the kiss, deepening it by bringing you closer to her. The kiss was rough, making up for lost time. Wandering hands over one another's bodies. 

When you pull apart you grin, throwing your arms over her shoulders. “We're dating.” You state, not asking but telling her. She shakes her head. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Well you do now.”

 You peck her lips. 

•••

Time passes and Vi comes into the shop whenever she can, you let Mexi watch over so the both of you can go out. Always in cute light colored clothes in such a dark place. 

People never understood how you were so bubbly, giving to others and dancing in the middle of Zaun. 

Violet loved it, watching as a street performer played and you danced to music. Children joining you. Even a few adults. It was these moments the undercity needed. A little distraction from the horrors about to come. 

You’d have these sweet moments everyday and then night comes and you’re in people's nightmares. Fighting to pay the bills you said. Fighting to win and prove you’re more than what others call a weak minded, overly nice girl. And Vi’s there to support her girl through it all. 

Loving every second. 

[selfloverrrrrr]

Witch!Reader x Demon!Satoru. He promises to fulfill her wish in exchange for something. She wants to be seen as a human being instead of a monster, the only thing she really wants is to be loved, and unfortunately he knows that. He fulfills her wish, but in return he imprisons her in his castle and promises to give her all the love and care she deserves (but in a very dark way).

The Ritual~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physical and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, demon Gojo, witch reader, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

I was born in a witch family. My mother was a witch too. So were my ancestors. I'm also a witch. I didn't know what was it when I was a kid. Is being a witch a good thing or a bad thing? I always used to ask myself. But all I knew was my mom always used to hide the fact from everyone that we all are witches.

So many years passed. I grew up. I'm an adult now. And I still don't have the answer that if being a witch is good or bad. But for me it became a curse. A curse for which my whole family got killed. The king hired to kill all the witches in his kingdom. He's such a powerful king. And that's why my family isn't with me now.

We all were unaware that they were attacking us. It was the middle of the night. I saw them kill everyone in front of my eyes. I ran away from there. But they saw me. I ran all I could. And for god's blessings they couldn't find me. Now I made a small hut in the forest.

All time fear attacks me that they will find me and kill me too. I can't live like this. I need to find a way where I can live like normal people. So I started learning witches techniques. Maybe any of them will help me? I started reading the books of my ancestors.

I started learning many magics. But none of them are for what I was trying to find. I never did witch activities before. I started searching in all those books. Maybe, just maybe something that will make me like the other normal people and I can live a normal life just like them?

I searched all I could. But nothing was related this. But then I found something. A book which is sealed. I looked at it. It was the last hope. I opened the seal. It was too old. Am I even gonna find anything from here? I opened the book anyways. After some time of reading what I found can actually help me. The things written in the book are:

"He got sealed. After all those trying, we all witches are successful. We sealed him. He, the strongest demon. He got birthed and from that day it was all the witch's job to end him. Though its not possible to kill him. He's too powerful. We all were also shocked that we got him sealed. He was birthed to destroy the world. He wants to rule it. He has destroyed too many places. He has killed too many people. And after doing rituals we managed to seal him. That demon, that monster's name is:

Gojo Satoru"

I kept turning the pages and the last page got my attention.......

Process to unseal Gojo Satoru

He'll fulfill your wish

My heart started beating wildly. Should I do it? It is mentioned that he is too dangerous. But he'll fulfill my wish. I don't have anything in my life. Does it even matter if I risk it? If I don't do it people are gonna try to kill me all the time. Then I should take a risk. I have to go to the place mentioned in the book.

The place mentioned in the book is the old burnt castle at the end of the forest. I've seen that castle from the young age. Everyone told me to stay away from there. But they never told me the story behind it. Today I got to know about the real story behind it.

The ritual needs to be done at night. So I collected all the things that were needed in the ritual that day. And I went there the next night. I wore a hooded dress so that no one could recognise me. And I was lucky that there weren't any people there. I quickly made my way inside the old castle with a candle in my hand.

I entered the castle. It was huge. There's dust everywhere. And the castle is burnt also. It made me curious about what happened here? I kept walking. The huge stairs from the middle. I have to go to the top room of this castle. As in the book there's a throne room which is the ritual room. I went up there.

I pushed the door open and my mouth was wide open by the beauty of the throne room. I wondered what it looked like when it wasn't burnt. I went towards the throne. I don't have enough time to do the ritual. I quickly set up what was written in the book. Then lit up all the candles. Then started doing the ritual. My heart was thumping against my chest.

As I completed the spell. The wind started flowing heavily. Suddenly all the candles were extinguished together. Then the wind stopped flowing. And all of a sudden all the candles lit up together again. Then I saw a tall human figure sitting on the throne.

He has a huge masculine body. He's tall, has handsome sharp features, white hair, white eyelashes and those gorgeous blue eyes. He looks exactly the same said in the book. He's wearing all black royal clothes. He turned his head on both sides and the cracking sound echoed through the room. Then he looked at me.

Can that beautiful person be that dangerous? I asked myself. "So you're the one who unsealed me?" He spoke. I have to respect him. "Yes, my lord" I replied looking at the ground. "Hmmmmm.....well, this place is still burnt and dusty everywhere.... and I don't like my castle to lose its beauty" he said and threw a hand beside him.

A blue ray came out of his hand. And all of a sudden the castle turned all new. Not burnt anymore neither dust anywhere. I was already gorgeous and now it has become more gorgeous. A huge black gorgeous castle. "Hmm.....so what's the reason you unsealed me?" He asked.

"my lord, I'm a witch.... people of the king are killing all the witches. They killed my family too. I don't wanna live like this. I was to live like normal people. I want everyone to think of me like normal people. I want to be loved." I replied. And then there was silence. I could feel him staring at me.

"So you don't wanna be a witch any more and want to be loved right?"he asked. "... yes. My lord" I replied. He smirked. "Okay....done" he said swiping his finger in the air. My eyes widened in hope that now I can live like normal people. I looked at my hand and the witch sign was gone.

That means..... that means I'm not a witch anymore? I was so happy. "T-thank you... thank you, my lord" I said with a smile on my face. I stood up. I said "I should go now-" he didn't let me finish "No" he said. It almost seemed like an order. I dared to look at him. And there was a sinister smirk on his face.

"I didn't give you permission to leave" he said and went up from the throne. And within a blink I was standing in front of me. I got frightened and took a step back with a gasp. "You scared?" He asked with a smirk. I didn't reply. "Are you?" He asked again tilting his head. ".... N-No" I replied.

"okay.... then come with me... let me show you something" I said with a grin offering a hand to me. I have to accept his hand and so I did. And within a blink we both were standing in front of the window. How fast is he? "Look at the kingdom. I own this. I'm gonna burn this place" he said. Now he was definitely terrifying me.

He placed a hand on my waist and pulled me against him. Now this is getting too uncomfortable. "And you'll be watching them die with me from here. And I'll kill them first who killed your family" he said. What does that mean?! "M-my lord I should go now" I said. "And I already said no" he said looking at me.

"you want to be loved, right?..... you'll be living here in my castle with me.... and I'll give you all the love you need" he whispered in my ear. My eyes widened. Oh no no no. This is not what I want. He wants to kidnap me in his castle?! Shit I don't have my powers anymore either. What should I do now?!

"what happened?" He asked and nuzzled his face on my neck. I took a deep breath and pushed him. Then ran all I could. I was running through the corridor and bumped into someone. Of course it's none other than Gojo Satoru. I don't have any ways now. I automatically started crying.

He smirked. "Didn't thought someone has the bravery to disobey me" he said and started walking towards me and I started walking backwards. "P-Please let me go I don't want that life" I cried. "Oh darling you don't know how much I love to see people crying. And for your life I'm the one have the power to decide how you'll live" he said.

Then he clapped his hand and we both were standing in a.... BEDROOM?! He grabbed my hand and pulled me against him. "Now tell me what you were saying?" He asked. "P-Please....let go... P-Please" I said. "Let you go? But didn't you wish to be loved? I'm giving you the love you deserve" he said while grabbing my ass and squeezing it.

I yelped at that. "P-Please I don't want to stay her-" before I could even complete my sentence he threw me on the bed and claimed on me. I screamed so loudly out of fear when threw me on the bed. "Didn't you say you're not scared? That seems like a lie now" he said and took off a strand of hair out of my face.

"it's been years since I was sealed. Never thought I'll get this gorgeous gift as soon as I get unsealed " he said with a smirk and pressed his lips on mine. I tried to push his chest but he grabbed my hands and held them beside my head while kissing me aggressively. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth.

I was shaking my head in protest but he didn't stop. When he stopped he immediately grabbed the top of my dress and tore it off. How strong is he??? He tore off a dress with Corset with his hands?! I almost screamed when he did. I covered myself and tried to crawl up.

He grabbed my hair and made me look at him. "Did I say to cover yourself???" He asked. His eyes shined. Tears falling down from my eyes. He smirked and licked my neck with his long tongue. I was shaking from fear. "You know seeing you scared makes me more turned on" he whispered.

I couldn't breathe. He grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounced out. He looked at those with lust in his eyes. His eyes shined in the dim light. He didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensation. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even affect him. "M-my lord stopppp" I screamed but he didn't stop. "It's Satoru, darling.... I won't kill you if you call me Satoru"

Then he took off my pantie. He looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered " so wet. You naughty little slut, getting wet for me huh?". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pants.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. "Look... this is what you have done to me..." he said while stroking his dick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " S-Satoru no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged and called him Satoru as he said so maybe he listens to me? but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I screamed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thrusting in and out roughly. I was through my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder.

I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " you know.... you're the first witch I love....I always hated all the witches.... never seen such a gorgeous witch like you.... f-fuck what great present I got as soon as I got unsealed" he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thrusts I came. He was still thrusting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh... I don't want this ..." I moaned. "Do you still think you can make me stop?" He said with a smirk. I dig my nails more deeper into his back as he Marked me. He continued thrusting. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. He fell beside me on the bed.

"You need to be loved? I'll give you all the love you deserve..... now spread your legs again.... I'm not done yet.... I was sealed for over 500 years.... you don't expect me to stop right now, do you?" He said and chuckled demonicly.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[marysfics]

The Bookstore Café

The Second Chapter.

Status: Ongoing

Other Chapters: click here

Angst, but we are moving forward a bit

The bookstore café hums with life, yet you feel like an outsider watching from a distance. You sit at your usual corner table, the sketchbook that once brought you solace now closed, untouched. You can’t seem to bring yourself to draw lately. Even the golden sunlight filtering through the windows feels too bright, a cruel reminder of how the world keeps moving while you’re stuck in place.

You should have left by now. You’ve been telling yourself that for the last twenty minutes. But something keeps you rooted to your chair, staring blankly at your half-empty coffee cup, waiting for… what? A sign? A resolution?

The bell above the door rings, and instinct takes over. You look up—and your heart stops.

It’s Alexia.

She’s here, but she’s not alone. Beside her is a woman with short dark hair and a confidence that seems to command the room. Alexia is smiling, that rare, radiant smile you’ve been chasing for weeks, and it’s aimed at someone else.

You feel the air leave your lungs as if you’ve been punched. You look away quickly, your hands tightening around your coffee cup. But it’s too late. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her pause, her smile faltering when she spots you. She hesitates for a moment, caught between her companion and you. Then, as if making a choice, she follows the other woman to a table near the window.

You tell yourself not to look, not to care. But your gaze betrays you, flickering back to them. They’re leaning close, their conversation laced with the kind of quiet intimacy that stings more than you want to admit. When the woman brushes a strand of hair from Alexia’s face, it feels like a dagger twisting in your chest. You can’t watch anymore.

You stand abruptly, grabbing your things with shaky hands. You need to leave before the lump in your throat swallows you whole. As you turn, your elbow catches the edge of the table behind you, jostling someone’s coffee cup. The warm liquid spills, splattering across the floor—and onto your sketchbook.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” the person exclaims, scrambling to grab napkins.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, though your voice cracks. You’re not sure if you mean it. Your hands tremble as you pick up the soaked sketchbook, the pages already curling and darkening from the coffee.

The commotion catches Alexia’s attention. She stands up instinctively, her chair scraping against the floor. “Are you okay?” she calls out, her voice carrying a mix of concern and something else—hesitation, maybe.

But you don’t look at her. You can’t. The weight in your chest feels unbearable now, a dam about to break. You mutter another quick reassurance to the stranger, clutch your ruined sketchbook tightly, and make a beeline for the door.

The bell chimes as you push it open, the crisp air outside hitting your face like a slap. You don’t stop. You keep walking until you’re a few steps away from the café, far enough to escape but close enough that you can still feel its pull.

Your hands tighten around your sketchbook, now dripping with coffee. It’s ruined—weeks of sketches smeared and stained. And yet, it’s not the sketchbook that breaks you. It’s everything else: Alexia’s smile, her hesitance, the quiet distance that’s grown between you.

For the first time since this all started, you cry.

The tears come slowly at first, a hot sting against your cheeks. Then they fall faster, unstoppable, as if every emotion you’ve been bottling up has finally demanded release. You clutch the sketchbook to your chest, the ruined pages pressing against your heart, and let yourself unravel on the bustling street. People pass by, their gazes curious or indifferent, but you don’t care. The ache in your chest feels too heavy to hide.

Inside the café, Alexia watches through the window. She sees you standing there, the coffee-stained sketchbook held tightly in your arms, your shoulders shaking as you cry. Her expression softens, guilt and hesitation warring in her eyes.

For a moment, it looks like she’s about to come after you. She even takes a step toward the door, but then her companion says something, pulling her attention back. Alexia hesitates, glancing between the window and the woman beside her. And just like that, the moment is gone.

You don’t see her. You don’t know that she saw you or that she almost came after you. All you know is the sting of loss, the quiet certainty that whatever fragile thing existed between you and Alexia is now cracked beyond repair.

As the sunlight fades, you wipe your tears and straighten, your chest hollow but your resolve firm. You walk away from the café, your sketchbook clutched tightly in your hands, knowing you can’t let yourself look back.

You don't go back to the café.

At first, you tell yourself it's just a break. A day or two away to clear your head. But as the days stretch into a week, the thought of returning becomes unbearable. The space that once felt like home now feels tainted, a reminder of everything you lost-or maybe never really had.

You try to distract yourself. Long walks through the city, sketching in quieter places, even spending more time with friends who have noticed the change in your mood. But nothing quite fills the void. The pages of your sketchbook, once alive with lines and shapes, now stare back at you, blank and uninviting.

When you finally do pick up a pen, it's not the tall shelves of the bookstore café or the sunlight streaming through its windows that you draw. It's her.

The first stroke is tentative, unsure. You sketch Alexia's features, but this time, she's not the smiling, confident woman you've always seen. No, in this drawing, she's something darker, something broken-just like you feel.

Her eyes are the first thing you draw, and they're not full of warmth like you remember. Instead, you carve shadows beneath them, heavy and deep, as if they've seen too much. Her lips, once so ful of light, are turned down at the corners, tinged with sorrow. The curve of her jaw feels harder, more angular, like the softness you once adored has been chipped away, piece by piece.

You move down to her body, drawing her in a way that's both haunting and beautiful. Her posture is slumped slightly, weighed down by the heavy emotions that are hidden beneath the surface. The lines of her arms are tense, as if she's holding something back, something dark and dangerous that might spill out at any moment.

But then you stop.

For a moment, you just stare at the piece in front of you. It's not Alexia anymore. Not really. It's you. The broken version of you that you've become since you saw her in the café, smiling at someone else. The one that couldn't hold it together long enough to make it out of that room. This version of her-this fractured, dark Alexia-is an image of everything you've been feeling, everything you've been hiding behind closed doors.

But even as you draw her like this, you can't help but add a glimmer of light. There's always a light, even if it's buried beneath layers of pain. In the way the shadows dance beneath her eyes, you can almost see that flicker of warmth again, trapped in the dark.

The piece feels like a confes sion, a raw release of everything you've been holding back. It's your anger, your hurt, your confusion. And yet, despite it all, it's still a tribute to her. The woman who once made you feel like the world could be a little less empty. The woman who, for all her flaws, might never understand just how deeply you loved her.

When you finish, your hand shakes as you set down the pencil. The drawing is beautiful, undeniably so, but it feels like a wound-a reminder of everything that's slipping away from you. You're not sure whether to hate it or love it.

The tears start again, but this time, they don't feel as sharp. They're softer, quieter, like the acceptance of a loss that you know you can never get back.

You take the sketchbook, now soaked in both coffee and emotion, and place it in the drawer of your desk. You don't know if you'll ever be able to look at it again, but for now, it's enough to leave it hidden away, where the rawness of it can't tear you apart further.

As you sit there, in the quiet of your apartment, the city's hum outside still distant and unfeeling, you know that no matter what happens, this piece of you will always remain. A beautiful, dark reminder of the love that could have been.

The days blend into each other, and you bury yourself in a routine meant to numb the ache. Work, sleep, the occasional walk—it all feels hollow, but at least it’s predictable. Your sketchbook remains shut, its weight on your desk a constant reminder of the emotions you poured into it.

One afternoon, as golden light filters through your curtains, there’s a knock at your door. You’re not expecting anyone. For a moment, you consider pretending you’re not home, but the knocking persists—soft but insistent.

When you finally open it, your breath catches in your throat.

Alexia.

She stands there, her dark eyes searching yours, her hands tucked into the pockets of a jacket you recognize from the bookstore café. She looks unsure of herself, as if she’s rehearsed this moment but forgot her lines.

“Hi,” she says softly. Her voice is quiet, almost hesitant, and it makes your chest tighten.

“What are you doing here?” you manage, your voice coming out more defensive than you intended.

Alexia flinches, just barely, but she recovers quickly. “I… I wanted to check on you.”

Your heart clenches at her words. The last time you saw her, she was with someone else, her laughter so carefree while you were falling apart. And now, here she is, standing in your doorway as if she has the right to care.

“I’m fine,” you lie, crossing your arms over your chest.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t take the easy way out by leaving. Instead, her gaze softens, and she takes a small step closer. “I saw you,” she admits, her voice almost a whisper. “That day at the café. Outside. I saw you crying.”

Your breath catches, the vulnerability of that moment rushing back like a flood. You look away, unwilling to let her see the rawness that lingers just beneath the surface.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she continues. “I didn’t know you were there until it was too late. And then… I didn’t know what to say.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “So, you waited a week to come find me? How thoughtful.”

Her jaw tightens at your sarcasm, but she doesn’t retreat. “I was giving you space,” she says firmly. “I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“Worse?” The word snaps out of you like a whip. “How could it get worse, Alexia? Watching you with someone else? Watching you smile like I was never part of the picture?”

Your words hang in the air between you, heavy and loaded. Alexia looks away, guilt flickering across her face. “She’s… just a friend,” she says finally. “That day at the café, I—” She pauses, taking a deep breath as if gathering courage. “I didn’t know what to do when I saw you. I panicked.”

“A friend,” you echo, the words hollow. You don’t know if you believe her.

“Yes.” Her voice is steady now, more confident. She steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of her presence. “But this isn’t about her. This is about you. About us.”

The word us sends a jolt through you, a painful mixture of hope and fear. “There is no us,” you say quietly, but the crack in your voice betrays you.

Alexia looks at you, and for the first time, you see the vulnerability in her eyes, the way her walls seem to crumble just slightly. “Maybe not,” she admits. “But there was. And I think we both know it’s not that simple to let go.”

Her words pull at something deep inside you, the part of you that’s still raw and aching. You take a shaky breath, your arms falling to your sides. “Why now, Alexia?”

She hesitates, then reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small, folded piece of paper. “I found this,” she says, holding it out to you.

You recognize it instantly. It’s a page from your sketchbook—the one that got stained with coffee. It must have been torn out, the edges frayed. It’s the portrait of her, the one you drew with all your pain and longing, all your love and anger.

Your stomach twists as you take it from her, your fingers trembling. “You… you kept it?”

“I found it on the floor of the café after you left,” she explains. “I didn’t mean to take it, but when I saw it… I couldn’t let it go.” Her voice is quiet now, almost reverent. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking and… I didn’t know I could make someone feel that much.”

You don’t know what to say. Your fingers tighten around the page, and you feel exposed in a way you’ve never felt before.

Alexia steps closer, her hand hovering just shy of yours. “I don’t know if I deserve how you feel about me,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I couldn’t ignore it. I can’t ignore you.”

Her words send a shiver through you, the kind that feels like a knife slipping between your ribs and yet offers a strange kind of release. You want to believe her, but the wounds she’s left still sting too much.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admit, your voice shaking. “You broke me, Alexia.”

Her face crumples at your words, and for a moment, she looks like she might cry. “I’m sorry,” she says, and it sounds so raw, so real, that it takes you by surprise. “I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to try. Please let me try.”

You look at her, and for the first time, you see not just the person you’ve loved, but the person who’s flawed and messy and as human as you are.

Alexia doesn’t leave.

You see her pause at the top of the stairs, glancing back over her shoulder. Her eyes rake over you, and something in her expression shifts. It’s subtle, but unmistakable—a mix of worry and guilt.

“You haven’t been sleeping, have you?” she asks, her voice soft.

You freeze, caught off guard by the question. “What?”

Her gaze drops, lingering on the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders slump as if holding up the weight of the world. “You look… exhausted.”

Your first instinct is to brush her off, to tell her you’re fine, but the words die on your lips. You’re not fine, and for once, you don’t have the energy to pretend.

“Alexia, I don’t think—”

“Let me help,” she interrupts gently, taking a step toward you. She holds up a hand before you can protest. “Not as some grand gesture, not to fix everything. Just… let me do something. Please.”

You hesitate, your fingers clutching the edge of the door. The thought of letting her in feels dangerous, like opening a dam you’ve been holding back for weeks. But there’s something in her eyes—a kind of quiet sincerity—that makes you falter.

You step back.

She takes it as permission and walks inside. It feels surreal, having her in your space, her presence filling the small room like a warm tide. She looks around, her gaze sweeping over the cluttered desk, the crumpled blankets on the couch, the coffee mugs scattered on the table.

You sit down on the edge of the couch, suddenly aware of how small and fragile you feel. Alexia doesn’t comment on the mess or your state. Instead, she moves with quiet purpose, slipping off her jacket and draping it over the back of a chair.

“Do you have tea?” she asks, already heading toward your kitchen.

You blink at her, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. Top shelf.”

She nods, rummaging through your cabinets until she finds what she needs. It’s a strange sight—Alexia, the woman you’ve spent so much time admiring from a distance, now boiling water in your kitchen like she belongs there.

When she returns with two steaming mugs, she hands one to you and sits down beside you on the couch, close enough that her knee brushes yours. The warmth of the tea seeps into your hands, grounding you in the moment.

“You don’t have to talk,” she says softly, watching you over the rim of her mug. “Just drink this, okay?”

You nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. The tea is comforting, its warmth spreading through you like a balm. For a while, the two of you sit in silence, the tension in the room easing bit by bit.

When you finally set the mug down, Alexia shifts closer, her voice hesitant but steady. “I know I’m probably the last person you want here right now. And I know I’ve hurt you in ways I can’t take back. But you’re not alone, okay? You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

Her words crack something inside you, and before you can stop yourself, you let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to move forward,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia reaches out, her fingers brushing yours. “Then don’t,” she says softly. “Not yet. Just rest. One step at a time.”

You look at her, and for the first time in weeks, the ache in your chest feels just a little lighter. There’s no grand declaration, no promises of fixing what’s broken. Just her, sitting beside you, offering a kind of quiet comfort you didn’t know you needed.

When she notices your lingering hesitation, Alexia leans forward, her voice laced with concern. “Can I stay? Just for a while. I won’t push, I swear. I just… I don’t want you to be alone.”

The walls you’ve built feel impossibly high, but her words reach you in a way you didn’t expect. Slowly, you nod.

She smiles—soft, almost relieved—and leans back against the couch, keeping her presence unintrusive but steady. As the room settles into a quiet rhythm, you feel the exhaustion you’ve been fighting for weeks finally catch up to you.

Alexia notices. Without a word, she drapes the throw blanket from the back of the couch over your shoulders, her touch light but reassuring. “Rest,” she murmurs.

And for the first time in a long time, you do.

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

End of chapter 2.

[afanofmanyships]

My Take On Danny Being The Gatekeeper au:

For the longest time, Danny thought that he didn't have a grave, that he was graveless. Then one day he met a graveless ghost and it felt wrong - they felt wrong - like they weren't truly there but that was impossible because they were in front of him. They were translucent, but not like a ghost. They were translucent in the way that their outline was disappearing. Their color is translating into black and their feet are becoming invisible.

As Danny reached out his hand to the graveless, they latched onto him. Because of that simple touch, Danny felt this graveless ghost drain his entire soul. All he had to do was pull away, pull away and leave. But he couldn't.

Danny: Let go of me.

Graveless Ghost: ......

Danny holds his arm with his other hand: Let go of me.

An outline of a smile appears on the thing's face: *A soundless laugh comes out of that thing's mouth*

Danny tilts his head down as green tears start appearing at the ends of his eyes: Please

A mask starts appearing in place of the thing's face: ha ha

Phantom looks the thing straight in the eye as green tears begin to fall from his face: LET GO OF ME!!

The thing's figure begins to become round as its hand becomes more solidified, a mouth starts appearing underneath the mask, and then the being grabs Danny's forearm with its other hand: HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA AH HA H A HAHA HA HA AHAH AHAA HA AH ITS MINE NOWHAHAHAH AHA!

Phantom doesn't know what that thing is saying as he starts pulling his arm away from that thing: ARG, Let me go!!

The thing laughs at Phantom as it drags him closer to itself: HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHHHAHAHAAH.

Phantom: LET. ME. GO.

Danny was able to toss the thing away from himself. As he watched the thing get up and walk away, Danny looked down at his arm and saw that it was bleeding but most of all, disappearing.

Danny Phantom began to pant as if he just fought the greatest battle in his entire half-life, holding his right arm: What the hell was that?

______________________________________________________________

Ghost Writer: What you just described was a No Face.

Phantom: A No Face?

Ghost Writer: Yeah, and by the looks of it.

Ghost Writer jester to the bandaged stub where Phantom's right arm should be: You just gave them their last piece to become a full-fledged one.

Phantom grasps his bandage unconsciously: What does that mean?

Ghost Writer sighs into his hands: Sometimes I forget that you've only been dead for 2 years until you say basic ghost 101 shit like that.

Phantom, stares at him unimpressed: Uh huh.

Ghost Writer sighed again and reached his hand as a book flew at him: A Ghost without a grave becomes a wisp within a year. That is the first step to becoming a No Face. The only way for a No Face to become a normal Ghost once again is for their loved ones to acknowledge that they are dead.

Ghost Writer flips open the book as he snaps his fingers making a pair of glasses appear on his face: Let's see *scams his finger across the pages* here it is *his finger taps the page*. If a grave/shrine is made the Ghost is to find and acknowledge them to solidify their standing in the afterlife.

Ghost Write looks Phantom straight in the eyes: If the ghost cannot locate their grave or shrine. Then that means they are considered a missing person or that no one cares about them enough to actually give a damn about giving them a proper grave. Making them unable to go back to their afterlife causing them to walk the Earth again as a wisp. To find a portal back to the afterlife.

Phantom tilts his head in confusion: ......

Ghost Writer rubs his eyes: Before you ask, no, the natural portals don't work on them. They'll just go through it as if it was never there. They'll have to find a permanent one like the one in Wisconsin and yours.

Phantom feels uncomfortable: What happens when they turn into that shadowy figure I saw?

Ghost Writer: This means that their entire bloodline has expired and that those who remember them are forgetting their existence entirely.

(Danny: Does that mean I'll become a No Face?)

Phantom: How do I get my arm back?

Ghost Writer: You must recognize your grave to unlock your full strength. Find the No Face, and from there it's up to you to make a choice.

Ghost Writer sits up and holds one hand: You kill and devour them, or *raises up his other hand* become allies and form into one being.

Phantom: I have a grave?

Ghost Writer: If you didn’t have one you would have become a wisp already.

(Danny: We need to go.)

Phantom gets up to leave: I need to go.

Ghost Writer calls out: Phantom.

Phantom stops at the door: ......

Ghost Writer: If you need a clue, go to Clockwork. Only if you're desperate.

Ghost Writer mutters to himself: Only desperate Ghosts have the possibility of finding him.

Phantom gave hum of acknowledgement, before leaving: I'll think about it.

______________________________________________________________

Phantom floats around lazily: -and that's all he told me.

Clockwork works on something out of Phantom's sight: Is that so.

Phantom faces himself towards Clockwork: Yeah, then I came all the way over here. To ask for a clue.

Clockwork hides his work in the shadows before facing Danny: Why did you come to me? You already know I have no concept of your timeline, only those around you.

Phantom takes a deep breath: I know that *avoids eye contact*, I just wanted to see if you knew.

Clockwork chuckles: Where your friends or family mourn the most is the place you seek.

Danny is unsettled by Clockwork's laugh: Thanks Clockwork. *Phantom leaves*

When he left, neither Clockwork nor Phantom noticed that his bandages turned white to black.

Clockwork turns to the shadows where a figure is tied to a chair: *Smiles creepily* Now *leans down onto the chair* where were we?

The figure mysterious: Huuuuu...kakkakkakkkakakakkakakukuuuu.

______________________________________________________________

Phantom went on the search to find his grave. It was a difficult task even with the help of Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie. They searched high and low trying to his grave. But none of them found it.

Sam: What are we even trying to find?

Phantom: A gravestone that says something along the lines of "Here Lays Daniel Fenton A Brother, Son, and Friend. Often Known As Danny Fenton." Or something like that.

Sam: What kind of name is "Danny"?

Valerie: I think I dated someone named "Danny" a few months ago.

Tucker had a gut feeling that he knew who "Danny" was: ...Let's keep searching.

Jazz knew who that person was but couldn't put her finger on it: ...(I know this person I know this person but who are they) *A few tears trail down her face but she quickly wiped them away*

It was at that moment Phantom realized that everyone was forgetting Danny.

______________________________________________________________

Phantom asked around Amity if anyone remembered a person named 'Danny Fenton', but no one recognized that name. He asked teachers, students, store clerks; any person that knew him closely.

Even Wes was beginning to forget who he was.

______________________________________________________________

Ghost Writer is shown writing in a book: *Sigh* I hope I don't have to shelf this one.

To the left of him was an empty bookshelf that wasn't there before. Ghost Writer knew that it would've been one thing if a book/bookshelf appeared separately, but it would be a whole other thing if they both appeared together because that means an important person is about to be forgotten and he'll be the only one left to remember them.

If he could change the course he would but he can't. He is unable to tell and no one else can see these books or shelfs. The only way for someone to become one is for someone other than him to remember them. After all, he is just the librarian.

______________________________________________________________

Phantom ends up in front of the Fenton House: ...Why am I here?

There is a pull from his chest that tells him to go inside, so he does. Only to instantly dodge an attack with the fluidity of a person who knew it was coming.

Phantom: ...How did I do that?

He continued dodging until he was near the basement door.

Phantom puts his left hand on his chest: ...That pull again.

He goes down to the basement until he is in front of the Ghost Portal.

A gleam crosses Phantom's eyes as he looks at the Portal.

Phantom: Are you...*reaches his left hand to the Portal*...My Grave?

The Portal gleamed as if responding to Phantom's left hand.

Phantom touched the Portal to recognize it as his grave only to be hit with extreme amounts of pain and visions. Visions that were and weren't of his dimensions.

Phantom falls to his knees with his hand still in the Portal: Agh ugh ug *closes his eyes in pain*

Phantom floats in front of the Portal (with his hand still inside), and his eyes begin to glow white: I see past and future running free (An image of Earth flashes through his eyes. The pictures of streets and roads flash through his mind as if he were traveling through the streets at the speed of sound. Houses, apartments, and warehouses flash through his mind one after the other. The front door's open and as if being, forcibly, sucked in, the door closes behind him. He's in a hallway but every turn a different one shows up until the image of a portal is in front of him. Images of figures of various shapes and sizes walk into the portal, all making the same mistake. The figures are all seen floating peacefully in a pool of green until they open their eyes and the real pain starts. Every single one of them clenched their heads in pain as their bodies underwent changes to their DNA.)

But that's not a world I know (Adventures play out with a confident, but sassy, figure in every one of them plays throughout in his mind. Eyes of different shapes and colors play throughout his mind. Zooming out it shows that the figures are turning their heads to look up to the sky, as if their looking right at him. As the images are zoomed out, it shows different cities and places. Some familiar and some different. Until the Earth is shown, something that was the same image is now something of its own.)

I see a song of past romance (A picture of Phantom is shown then a picture of Danny is shown. An image of them sitting across from each other during a festival in Ancient Egypt is shown.)

I see the sacrifice of man (Danny Phantom is fighting against an enemy and in the middle of the fight the enemy throws an attack that he can not dodge. Danny himself decided to forcibly separate from Phantom because he knew that if it hits then they'll be erased and so he decided to take that chance because this world needs Phantom. Phantom watched as Danny disintegrated right in front of him. And the being that is known as "Danny Phantom" just became "Phantom".)

I see portrayals of betrayal (Phantom sees Danny on the enemy's side pointing at him.)

And a brother's final stand (Danny and Phantom were on opposite sides fighting each other until they smirk at one another and turn around.)

I see you on the brink of death (Danny is shown in the middle of a battlefield with a variety of serious injuries trying to catch his breath and unable to turn into Phantom.)

I see you draw your final breath (Danny drops to the ground drawing his last breath. Phantom carries Danny's corps across the sea and back to Amity Park. Behind him are two duplicates; one carrying a canister that says Sam and one carrying a canister that says, Tucker.)

I see a man who gets to make it home alive (There is a trial.)But it's no longer you (Danny wakes up in the middle of a forest with no memories.)

I see your palace covered in red (The image of Danny and Phantom in the festival of Ancient Egypt is now splattered in blood.)

Faces of men who had long believed you're dead (Sam sits in the heiress seat looking over the sea of suitors where she spots Phantom in the crowd. She wants to cry but she can't not when the situation is extremely delicate for her; she cannot show any weakness. Tucker is also in the sea of suitors waiting for Sam's signal.)

I see your wife with a man who is haunting (In the POV of Danny there is a figure sitting in front of a mirror who turns around.)

A man with a trail of bodies (Phantom buries Danny in a place that will one day become Amity Park, covered in dried blood.)

I see a song of past romance (Danny in a ruined wedding dress with guns in hand in the city of Gotham.)

I see the sacrifice of man (Danny pushes someone out of the way and gets impaled through the heart remembering that he is no longer Phantom.)

I see portrayals of betrayal (A monster that he seems to know personally attacks him without hesitating.)

And a brother's final stand (Danny turns around and swings his sword to lop off the head of the person behind him.)

I see you on the brink of death (Danny lying on the ground desperately holding a sword away from himself as the other person tries to stab it through his core.)

I see you draw your final breath (...It goes through.)

(As the visions died down, images of Clockwork started to appear and they all said one thing looking right at him:

There Is No Clockwork In Your World.)

______________________________________________________________

Phantom drops to the ground: Huff huff *looks at the Portal* what did you mean that there is no Clockwork?

Phantom gets up on his knees and holds his head with his left hand: If there is no Clockwork then *a horrified expression dons his face* WHO THE HELL HAVE I'VE BEEN TALKING TO?!?!

To Be Continued...

Masterlist

[daisymbin]

hii! been obsessed with your writing lately. thank you for sharing with us!!

if it inspires you, i would love to see your interpretation of prompt 46 from the fluff prompt list ("you doodled hearts in my notebook again.") with university! chan.

always excited for your stories, take care!!

ah!! thank you for your kind words and thank you for requesting this!!! ugh university fics always gives me the butterflies 🥲

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // chan's m.list

fluff prompt #46: "you doodled hearts in my notebook again."

you had missed a lecture the day before, overwhelmed with assignments and life, and chan, being the helpful seatmate that he was, offered to lend you his notes. it wasn’t the first time he’d done it, but this time felt a little different.

you weren’t sure why, but when you took his notebook, you felt a little nervous, maybe because you'd always liked chan more than just a friend.

the next day, you returned the notebook, trying to act casual about it. “thanks again for letting me borrow it. i swear, i’ll catch up on everything soon,” you said, handing him his notes with a small, apologetic smile.

chan took the notebook with a bright grin, always more than happy to help. “don’t worry about it. you can borrow it again if you need it.”

“you’re too nice,” you said, giving him a teasing look.

“only because you’re my favorite study buddy,” he joked, though the words slipped out a little more naturally than he intended.

later that night, chan found himself finally sitting down with the notebook after a long day, eager to check if you had caught up on the material. but when he opened it, he was caught off guard.

there, scattered across the pages, were little hearts doodled around his name.

he let out a breath, half-laughing in disbelief. again?

this wasn’t the first time it had happened. months ago, when he had lent you his notebook for the first time, you had drawn hearts around his name, and he had been so embarrassed that he didn’t even mention it to you. it seemed like a one-time thing. but now, here it was again—little hearts marking his name, just as sweet as before.

chan’s fingers traced over the doodles as his heart began to race. he tried to convince himself that it didn’t mean anything. maybe you just liked drawing hearts. but deep down, he wondered—was this your way of telling him something?

the next day, chan sat next to you in class, unable to hide his small grin. you sat down next to him, but he was already focused on his notebook, pretending to take notes, though his mind was completely elsewhere.

you looked at him, wondering why he was being so quiet. finally, after a few moments, he spoke up, his voice light but teasing.

“you doodled hearts in my notebook again,” chan said, his eyes playful as he watched you.

you blinked in confusion. “what? i did?” you stammered, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

chan nodded, turning his notebook toward you, showing you the page where your hearts were still drawn around his name.

“you did. and this isn’t the first time either,” he added, his voice softer now, like he was trying to understand. “didn’t you do this before, a long time ago?”

your face flushed a bright shade of red. “i—I didn’t even realize I did it,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “it’s just... a habit.”

chan’s lips curled up into a soft smile as he watched your nervous reaction. “you really don’t realize it, huh?” he teased gently.

you sighed, trying to laugh it off. “nope, no idea. i just doodle stuff when i’m bored, you know?”

but chan wasn’t buying it. he leaned in a little closer, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “are you trying to tell me something with all these hearts? or is it just a coincidence?” he asked, voice dropping slightly.

your heart raced, and you nervously fiddled with the hem of your shirt, avoiding his gaze. “what do you mean?” you asked, feigning ignorance even though you could feel your face getting hotter by the second.

chan raised an eyebrow, his playful smile growing. “are you trying to tell me something? like… maybe you have a crush on me?” he asked, his voice light and teasing, though there was an edge of curiosity behind it.

your mouth opened and closed as if you were searching for the right words, but nothing came out. the teasing in his tone made you even more flustered, and you struggled to think of something to say.

you managed to mumble, suddenly feeling way too exposed, “it’s just… hearts, right? i always doodle hearts. no big deal.”

chan couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up inside him. “right, just hearts. everywhere. around my name,” he repeated, his voice a little more teasing this time.

you huffed, clearly embarrassed. “okay, okay! maybe i got carried away,” you admitted, now trying to hide behind your notebook. “it’s just something i do when i’m bored. no hidden meanings, promise.”

chan’s grin softened, and he looked at you with a more genuine curiosity. “are you sure?” he pressed, his voice lowering slightly. “because, you know, you can tell me anything.”

you bit your lip, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. “it’s really nothing,” you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you believed that anymore.

chan studied your face for a moment, his smile softening into something more tender. “well, if there’s something you want to tell me... i’m all ears,” he said, his tone sincere.

you didn’t know what to say to that, so instead, you just sat there, lost in his eyes for a moment longer than you should have. but chan could see it all, the way you were looking at him, it was the same fondness he had in his eyes when he looks at you. he wonders if you can see the fondness in his eyes.

“well,” chan said softly, his smile still there but with a little more sincerity, “maybe i’ll just take it as a sign that you like me too.”

your heart skipped a beat as your eyes widened,"too"?

chan watches as the pieces of puzzles slowly click in your head before you let out a small smile

“you think so?”

chan nodded, his voice playful yet serious. “i think it’s pretty obvious.”

and for the first time, you smiled at him without hiding. maybe there was something more to the doodles after all.

[charmandabear]

Office Hours: it's so easy to bite with your hands pinned (2/16)

Summary:

After fantasizing about it, Rosalind can't stop thinking about what it would be like to fuck Ancunín. Maybe Shadowheart is right, maybe she should just do it to get it out of her system.

Pairing: Astarion/named f!Tav Rating: explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter tags/warnings: vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, p in v intercourse, blood/blood drinking, creampie/no breeding (full list on ao3)

Yayyyyyy chapter 2! I've been absolutely going through it personally, but your comments and kind words have brought me such joy. My goal will continue to be to upload Sunday/Monday so if I miss a day, I give you full permission to yell at me. (But please be nice, I'm very sensitive.)

Read it on AO3. ~ Masterlist (coming soon.) ~ Office Hours playlist on Spotify.

“Shadowheart, I think I fucked up.”

Rosalind picks at the cardboard sleeve on her coffee cup as Shadowheart grabs her latte from the counter. Her best friend’s eyebrows disappear into her platinum bangs as she fixes Rosalind with a cautious look. They had met six years ago while moving into adjacent apartments. Shadowheart was already working at BGU in the Divinity School, and a few years back she helped Rosalind get an interview with Volo in the theatre department.

“Do I need to kill someone or help you bury the body?” she says with a sly smile, and Rosalind groans, almost too ashamed to admit it. She has complained far too much about Ancunín for what happened last night not to be exceedingly embarrassing.

“No, not that,” she begins, then takes a sip of coffee to brace herself. “You know that snotty Renaissance Lit professor I’ve mentioned?” They tap their phones on the turnstile censor and file through one at a time.

“Yeah, the one you’re always going on about?” Shadowheart looks over her shoulder as she asks the question, and she’s treated to Rosalind’s dramatic eye roll.

“I’m not always going on about him,” she grumbles, and Shadowheart’s laugh reverberates off the metro walls.

“You absolutely are, but continue,” she smirks, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Okay well let me at least show you what he looks like before I lose service,” Rosalind preemptively defends herself, pulling out her phone and searching for the BGU English department faculty page. She scrolls down to Ancunín’s portrait and turns the screen towards Shadowheart.

It looks like a candid photo but it’s very clearly composed. He’s sitting pitched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s looking off to the side and his brow is furrowed like he’s engaged in vigorous academic debate. It’s wildly pretentious.

“Oh. Oh,” she says in a low tone as her eyes study the screen. Suddenly she gasps and looks at her friend with wide eyes. “Rosalind, no, tell me you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t!” Rosalind shouts, perfectly scandalized. Then, in a much lower voice that ultimately gets drowned out by the roar of a train flying by, she says, “I just thought about it.”

“What?” Shadowheart shouts, pulling her scarf in a little closer to protect herself from the wind cast off by the train.

“I just thought about it!” Rosalind shouts back, wishing she had just waited to speak.

“Thought about what?”

“Fucking him!” Of course, she shouts this last bit just as the train has fully passed, which means everyone else waiting on the platform hears her clear as day. Rosalind hides her flushed face behind her cup, praying that no one from the school is also taking the metro today.

“And?” Shadowheart looks at Rosalind expectantly.

“And what?”

“How was it?”

Rosalind scoffs and looks down the tunnel at the train’s headlights in the distance in order to avoid answering her question for a second longer. “I mean, it was my imagination, so like good I guess?”

“Well sure, but would you want to do it in real life?” As Shadowheart answers, the train comes to a screeching stop and the two of them board, snagging a two-seater as far away from both entrances as possible. Shadowheart pinches her knees together and places her bag delicately on her lap.

Rosalind sighs heavily before answering. “Man, I dunno. I’ve never really been into the idea of hate sex, at least not since Aradin.”

Shadowheart makes a face of abject disgust. “He doesn’t even know how lucky he is that I’ve never been in the same room as him.”

“Trust me, I’ve never been more appreciative of having someone so eager to commit murder for me,” Rosalind laughs, putting her hand on Shadowheart’s knee. They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Rosalind looks out the window at the other platforms whizzing by. 

“I think you should go for it,” Shadowheart says suddenly, and Rosalind chokes on her coffee.

“Excuse me?” she coughs as she wipes her mouth.

“What’s the worst that could happen? If it doesn’t work out, you can just go back to hating him like before, and at least then you won’t need to wonder anymore,” Shadowheart says matter-of-factly. She’s awfully nonchalant about having just described the literal nightmare scenario.

“Excuse me, how is that possibly meant to make me feel better?” Rosalind gapes at her.

“At least you get a good shagging out of the deal, right?” Shadowheart flashes a coffee-stained grin and Rosalind pushes her face away.

“Maybe not, he could be terrible for all we know,” she replies smugly as the train slides into the University stop. They funnel out with the hoard of students and other professors who also get out onto the platform. “Man, Shade, we need to get you laid, don’t we?” Rosalind teases her as they trash their empty coffee cups.

“Listen, you’re closer to getting some than I’ve been in months, it’s not that good out here for most of us,” she groans.

“Hey, if I end up getting lucky, maybe he’s got some pretty colleague he can hook you up with,” Rosalind says with a shit-eating grin and Shadowheart rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not, English academics are the worst.”

***

Rosalind and Shadowheart split ways in front of the student union, each of them heading to their respective sides of campus. Rosalind goes directly to her office and immediately closes the door — usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary today. She can’t look at his face right now. She can’t possibly look him in the eye.

She spends the majority of the day locked in her office, double checking the hallway before leaving to teach Voice and Speech. She even avoids the main office for fear of running into him there. 

When 5:00 rolls around, she takes a peek outside her door to see most of the other professors leaving. To play it safe, she decides to work until six so she can be absolutely sure he’s gone by the time she leaves. She passes the time by absentmindedly grading weekly reflections. It’s only when she realizes that she’s read one paragraph about Miss Julie about a half dozen times, she figures it’s time to leave.

She pokes her head into the hallway, but can’t tell from this angle whether or not his door is closed. She grabs her bag and coat, takes a deep breath, and makes a beeline for the stairs. It’s only when she approaches his office door that she realizes it’s open. 

Fuck.

It’s fine. She can just walk past it and get to the stairs and then she won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice her walk by. It’s fine. She can feel her heart pounding in her ears nonetheless.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as Rosalind passes his door. Are you fucking kidding me? She turns to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even bother looking up at her. Prick.

“Yes?” she asks coldly, not budging from her spot in the hall. He glances up and looks at her over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. Rosalind wants to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

Rosalind takes a tentative step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s somehow warm and inviting. She can barely see the walls from being covered corner to corner in overfull bookshelves. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room — significantly nicer than the university-issued ones. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it, honestly. Two chairs face his desk, but they’re covered in a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave like the ones in Rosalind’s office. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea. 

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. Rosalind stands still, clutching her bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes she’s not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. She can feel the heat in her cheeks rising. Her mouth goes dry as she tries to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels her to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk. He leans casually on the edge of it, facing her and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Rosalind watches him carefully, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

Rosalind blinks at him, the conversation immediately not going in the direction she expected. She still feels so much shame about last night that it takes her a moment to realize what he’s referring to.

He sees the gears turning in her brain and decides to continue. “It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leans back on his hands, stretching out his lithe figure to impossible proportions. Rosalind’s grip on her bag slackens and she can’t help but drag her gaze over the length of his body. He looks back at her quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses. Now it’s his turn to give the once-over, and Rosalind feels practically naked before him with the way he leers at her. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward her, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. She retreats while holding his gaze until her back is flush against the door. 

No escape now.

He gets precariously close and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s at least a half foot taller than Rosalind, and he looks down on her with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in her face has fully reached the tips of her ears now, and her breath comes out ragged. 

“I’m sure I—” she begins, but it comes out thick and raspy. She clears her throat and tries again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” she finally manages with all of the composure she can muster. He cocks an eyebrow, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t drastically increased in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into her. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter escapes Rosalind as she presses her thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let her respond. 

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my piece and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. He’s giving me an out, she realizes. He’s saying that we can both laugh at this as an embarrassing moment and never bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand… Rosalind thinks back on her conversation with Shadowheart and swallows thickly.

“You’re not mistaken,” she manages to choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts her chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command makes Rosalind’s knees go weak and she withers under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” she says more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time she notices two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains why he could track Rosalind’s heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating. 

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing her roughly, hands twisting in her hair and one knee sliding up between her legs. He pushes her against the door, lifting her up onto her toes. She’s desperate just to keep up as he devours her, her hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment she lets him take her.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away as they both breathe heavily, air cycling between their lungs. Rosalind’s head is full of a thick fog and she can’t see straight. His hands are still in her hair, tight but not pulling — yet. Why do I get the sense that might not last long?

He drops to his knees and she nearly doubles over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of her black denim skirt, inhaling again. Her fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from her fantasy. At this point she’s just trying not to collapse. 

He looks up at her, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up her skirt and his thumb runs across her pussy, barricaded by sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” She bites her lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of her tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, she can’t stop the cry from escaping her throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in her ears. Her knees buckle and he grabs hold of her hips, hiking up her skirt to get better access to her dripping cunt. He presses a finger past her panties and slips it into her, and she gasps at the stark temperature difference. 

“Gods, fuck,” she groans under her breath, and she runs a hand through her hair as her head drops back against the door. He presses his nose into the flesh of her lower belly, licking and kissing it as he slides in a second finger into her. She can feel her legs beginning to shake as he pumps into her, stretching her out. She grasps the handle of the door trying to brace herself on something. When her hips begin to subconsciously roll against his hand, he yanks his fingers out and she whines at the sudden emptiness. 

“Someone’s needy,” he sings as he stands before sucking her arousal off his fingers. He pulls her into another searing kiss and the taste of her lingers on his lips. He grabs her ass and digs his fingers into her flesh, spreading her cheeks until she gasps into the kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up her legs and wraps them around his waist. She yelps in surprise; he’s significantly stronger than he looks.

He carries her over to that incredible mahogany desk, plopping her down on the hardwood and sending books and papers tumbling to the floor. He presses his bulge into her mound, this time the sound of both of their groans mingling pleasingly. He tears at her chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down her chest as she throws her head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing her top, though she’s certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. She can hardly bring herself to care as she paws wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of her. He pulls down the lace cup of her bra with his teeth and starts sucking on her nipple, pressing his hand into the small of her back. She arches into him, his hands working her like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that she pictured last night. Instead, Rosalind has been reduced to shambles, begging for his satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” she stutters, and those devilish eyes lock onto hers again. He snakes his way back up her chest and bites her lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks her stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against her. She squirms, trying to pull him closer but he’s got her arms locked in his grip. His lips leave hers and ghost over the flesh of her neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across her jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from her in return. By all the gods, Rosalind hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement makes it clear that he won’t bite unless she wants him to.

But holy hells does she want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” she gasps, and she’s almost certain she can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get inside me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to her, but she’s well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves her panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into her simultaneously, drawing out her cry of both pain and pleasure. She wraps her legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. She feels his mouth filling up with hot blood just as her cunt fills up with his dick. 

His pumps are slow, taking his time as he swallows gulps of her blood. The obscene slurping noise mixed with his heavy breathing and occasional grunts that tickle her ear send her reeling. She’s always had a sensitive neck and more than enjoys the occasional hickey. But this is a whole new level of pain mixed with pleasure. His lips grow warm with her blood and she bucks against him, her whines getting swallowed by his curls. Her hands cup his ears, and she’s unable to stop herself from playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from her neck, looking absolutely feral with her blood dripping down his chin, which only sets her off more. 

“Please, I-I need more,” she whimpers breathlessly, angling her hips towards him and trying to get him to thrust faster.

“You eager little thing,” he growls, and the animalistic sound pulls another desperate whine from deep within her. He pushes her back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath her knee high boots, pressing her thighs against her chest. He begins to pound into her properly, sending her hurtling towards climax. She grabs onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching her out as he keeps her feet up by his shoulders. The heat begins to mount in her core and she knows it won’t be long before she comes. But at this point she’s just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m—” She finishes before her sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks her body, if anything, he fucks into her harder. Just as she’s barely come down from her climax, he pulls out and yanks her off the desk, spinning her around and pushing her face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from her back. He pushes her skirt up to her hips and grabs a hold of her ass, his nails digging into the part of the tights still in-tact. He slides into her again with a groan, and already she can tell that she’s working her way up to a second one. Her bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs her hair, pulling her head up and arching her back into him. 

She desperately wishes that she could see his face because she can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. She tries to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on her hair remains tight. But even if she can’t see him, she can still hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in her is enough, and her own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism. 

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and she can feel his climax, setting off a second for her. The throbbing of his cock matches that in her cunt, and she holds onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over her. Once the ripples have settled he pulls out, and she can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down her leg. She silently says a thankful prayer for her IUD.

They’re both panting as he collapses onto her back, planting a half-hearted kiss on her spine. She weakly pushes herself up off the desk and sees the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. She turns around to relish in his appearance. Her blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. She reaches up and wipes the remainder of her blood off his chin. He smirks and gives her a surprisingly gentle kiss. 

“That was good,” she murmurs through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

[ncis-nerd]

Sweet Troubles

Ship: Wives WandaNat || Future WandaNat x Reader (Not in this Chap) || Wives WandaNat & OC daughter (Masie)

About: Wanda and Natasha's home life and their sweet little angel Masie! Natasha is gone for evening and it's just Wanda and Masie. Until Natasha comes home! Fluffy domestic wives with a young child!!!

Warnings: Fluff, Christmas season, kissing, relationship troubles, arguing (??), trouble in paradise but they have healthy communication and talk through it, massaging, suggestive themes at the end.

christmas au

The fireplace roared as the little blonde girl picked up her blue crayon. Wanda sighed softly, watching Masie sitting at her little Disney princess table and swinging her feet. The young girl picked up a cookie from her Christmas plate, biting on it as crumbs fell down. Wanda hummed softly, closing her eyes for a moment. “Chestnut roasting on an open fire” filled her ears, as her Christmas vinyl played faintly from the other room.

Masie brought her cup of milk up to her mouth as the door opened. “Mommy!!” Masie exclaimed as she arose from her pink chair, immediately running into the Russian's arms. Natasha dropped all the bags in her arms, “дорогой!” She carried Masie in her arms, peppering her in kisses.

“Mommy!!” Masie giggled, squirming in Natasha's arms. “Ты была хорошей девочкой для своей матери, моя маленькая любовь?” Natasha asked Masie, placing the little girl in her and Wanda's lap. “Hi my love,” Wanda whispered, moving closer to her wife and bringing her lips to the Russian's forehead, leaving a kiss. 

“Mhm!! Right Mama?” Masie nodded, looking up at Wanda. “Yup, the best girl.” Wanda smiled, wrapping her arms around the young girl. Wanda loved that her daughter was able to understand Natasha's native language. Wanda loved her little family. But deep down, there was that feeling, like something was missing. But she couldn't put her finger on it.

“Wans” Natasha spoke, capturing her attention. Natasha's eyes met her wives but it felt as if they were a million miles away. “Where'd you go, love?” Natasha said, her eyes filled with nothing but love and concern. 

"Nowhere, I'm just thinking about Christmas..” Wanda's voice appeared in Natasha's head. Wanda's hand intertwined with Natasha's. “Love–” Natasha's voice echoed as Masie squirmed out of their lap, returning to her coloring page.

“Can we not speak about this right now, please” Wanda responded, once again projecting her thought into Natasha's head. Natasha nodded, taking the hint to change the subject.

“So Masie…Do you know what you want for Christmas from me and mama?” Natasha hummed, reaching for the television remote. She turned on Frosty the Snowman for them to watch.

“Mommy, I love this movie!!” Masie jumped up excitedly, nearly falling in the process. Natasha frowned “Careful, sweetheart. Don't want you getting hurt, now do we. Either sit at your table and continue your coloring or come join mama and me on the couch, baby.” Natasha said sternly. Masie took her seat at her pink Disney princess table. 

“For Christmas, I want the Winter Wonderland Sweet Sally dolly please mama and mommy!” Masie thought for a moment.

“Alright angel. Is that all you want, baby?” Wanda nodded, making a mental note to search up what exactly that is.

Masie nodded as a quiet yawn escaped her mouth. “Did you hear that, Nat?” Wanda spoke, rising from the couch. “Well, I believe I did, Wans” Natasha spoke, also standing up. “I think it might be someone's bed time?” Wanda inched closer to Masie who was starting to get tired. 

“Noo” Masie whined softly. “And why not?” Natasha spoke, kneeling down to meet Masie's level. “Not done.. Coloring” Masie yawned. “Well, someone's getting sleepy. You can finish your coloring in the morning, lovebug.” Natasha hummed, lifting Masie. Masie tucked her head in Natasha's neck.

Natasha carried Masie to her bedroom and laid her in her princess bed. Natasha turned on Masie's nightlight and placed a kiss on Masie's forehead before pulling the covers over her. “Momm..mommy.. song..” Masie yawned.

Natasha has had a routine of reading Masie a story, singing her a song some nights, and lulling her to sleep in Russian. 

“Of course, little love” Natasha nodded. “и у мамы есть ты. вы в безопасности и вам не о чем беспокоиться. закройте глаза и мечтайте об овцах и кроликах.” Natasha hummed softly, as Masie's eyes fluttered closed. Natasha placed one final kiss on Masie's head before shutting the door quietly.

Natasha returned to the living room, only to be greeted with an empty room. The television turned off and Masie's plate gone.

Wanda sighed softly, rubbing her temple. Natasha's arms wrapped around her, Wanda jumped, not detecting the Russian entering the kitchen. “детка” Natasha sighed, her hands massaging Wanda's shoulders. Wanda groaned softly.

“What is bothering you? And do not tell me it's nothing because I can see your mind is elsewhere.” Natasha spoke. “Okay” Wanda sighed.

“I don't–” Wanda paused. Natasha held Wanda's hand, squeezing it softly. “You know I love you and Masie so, so much. More than anything else on this planet. But it just feels like something is missing.” Wanda sighed.

“I understand, I get what you mean. You and Masie are the best thing to happen to me, and I am so glad I get to be that little girl's mommy and your wife, but I also have the feeling, deep down. I don't know how to place it.” Natasha nodded, sighing softly.

“So we'll do it. We'll place it. Let's try to find the root cause because I love you Natasha. I love you so much and I am so grateful that you get to be the mommy of my- our daughter and I don't want anything to change or affect that.” Wanda whispered, turning around to meet Natasha’s gaze.

Natasha’s lips met Wanda’s. “I love you so fucking much,” Natasha moaned. Wanda kissed Natasha’s neck. Natasha groaned softly, her hand traveling down to Wanda’s sides. 

Translation (google translation):

▪︎ дорогой - sweetheart

▪︎ Ты была хорошей девочкой для своей матери, моя маленькая любовь? - Were you a good girl for your mama, my little love?

▪︎ и у мамы есть ты. вы в безопасности и вам не о чем беспокоиться. закройте глаза и мечтайте об овцах и кроликах. - and mom has you. you are safe and have nothing to worry about. close your eyes and dream of sheep and rabbits.

▪︎ детка - babe

a/n: A snippet of Wanda and Natasha's backstory, there is more to their history but that will be revealed as the story proceeds. This is taken in place before Reader first sees Wanda and Natasha. A little bit of context about our lovely two wives. Next part will be focused more on the wives and reader's interactions/first officially meeting.

previous part

[yiichan]

𝟎𝟒 - 𝐖𝐞𝐧 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐮𝐢

pairings. idol!ot13 x m!14thmember!oc. word count. 1.2k. genre. parellel universe au, extra member au, angst.

warnings. none (for this chapter)

writers notes. hoshi's chapter should be a fast one. im tired of writing tags im sorry. and also, SVT daesangs, A WIN IS A WIN.

my imperial beta reader, @sousydive

network: @mansaenetwork

[open] series taglist. @vixensss @mnjrosn

chapter index | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

When Junhui opened his eyes, he quickly closed them again, convinced he was dreaming.

One moment, he had been dozing on the couch in Seungkwan and Jeonghan’s shared dorm. The next, he was alone in a place that felt both familiar and unfamiliar.

He hesitated, then opened his eyes again.

No, he knew this place. Wasn’t this their old dormitory room?

He bolted upright, scanning the room. Yes, it was definitely their old dormitory. The cramped space, the poorly maintained walls, the heap of clothes on the floor…

Heart racing, Junhui scrambled to his feet, looking for any sign of life. He rushed to the door, bursting into the living room.

There, he froze, staring directly into the wide, confused eyes of a much younger Seungkwan.

“Hyung?” Seungkwan said groggily, rubbing his eyes.

Junhui’s breath hitched as he took in the sight. Seungkwan’s face was still round with baby fat, his expression innocent and unguarded.

Seungkwan blinked a few times, shaking off his drowsiness, before suddenly jumping to his feet in shock. “Jun-hyung? How did your hair grow overnight—” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening as he looked around. “Wait… where are we?”

Junhui took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm despite the panic rising within him. “I think…” His voice trembled slightly. “I think we’ve gone back in time.”

The idea wasn’t hard for Junhui to accept. After all, he’d already traveled to a parallel universe. Besides, he had read so many fictional Chinese novels about time travel that he could probably build a castle out of them.

“Wait, what day is it?” Seungkwan asked, walking to the wall where a calendar was hung. He gasped when he saw it, then turned to Junhui. “The first of February, hyung! The day before Gyuhan joined us!”

Junhui’s heart squeezed at the mention of Gyuhan. His hands trembled as he quickly patted his pockets, hoping to confirm his suspicions. To his relief—and slight disbelief—his fingers brushed against the familiar shape of his old phone.

Pulling it out, he stared at the cracked screen. It was definitely the phone he used back then. He unlocked it easily, his fingers moving instinctively.

The date flashed on the screen: 01 February 2015.

Seungkwan was right. This was the day before Gyuhan joined them.

Before he could speak, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Both of them turned toward the noise, tense and alert.

“What?” Junhui’s heart skipped a beat at the familiar voice. Jeonghan.

The older man appeared, looking disheveled and confused. His long hair, still styled from their trainee days, fell into his eyes. “Junnie? Kwan?”

“Hyung?” Seungkwan whispered, his face pale. Jeonghan looked between the two of them, his eyes wide.

“You two… Did we travel back in time?”

Seungkwan opened his mouth to reply, but a loud thud from the room across the hall interrupted him.

“What now?” Seungkwan groaned, his voice rising in pitch as nerves took over.

Junhui moved instinctively toward the sound. Jeonghan followed closely, while Seungkwan muttered under his breath.

When Junhui opened the door, he found Mingyu sprawled on the floor, tangled in his blanket.

“Hyung!” Mingyu exclaimed, his voice tinged with panic as he scrambled to his feet. “What’s happening? Why does everything look like this? Where am I?” He gestured wildly, eyes darting around the room.

“Calm down, Mingyu,” Jeonghan said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder. “We’re all trying to figure this out.���

“All of us?” Mingyu blinked, his panic softening into confusion. “Wait… you mean—”

“Yes, all of us,” Junhui interrupted. “It looks like the entire group has somehow traveled back in time.”

Mingyu’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

Before anyone could speak further, another door opened further down the hall, followed by a groggy and irritated voice.

“Why is everyone so loud?” Jihoon appeared, rubbing his eyes. He froze when he saw the group in Mingyu’s doorway. “What…?”

His eyes landed on Junhui, narrowing slightly. “Wait. Hyung, why do you look… different?”

Junhui exchanged a look with Jeonghan. “Jihoon,” he said slowly, “check the calendar.”

Jihoon blinked, suspicion evident on his face, but stepped back into his room. A moment later, they heard him gasp. He reappeared, his face a mix of shock and disbelief.

“February 1, 2015?” Jihoon’s voice was barely a whisper. “This… this can’t be real.”

“Oh, it’s real,” Seungkwan said, folding his arms. “I’ve already checked, and Jun-hyung’s old phone proves it. We’re here—back when we were trainees.”

“But why?”

Jeonghan sighed, running a hand through his long hair as he leaned against the wall. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Why would we be sent back to this point in time? And more importantly… how?”

Junhui took a shaky breath, his mind racing. It was surreal to see everyone’s younger faces, their voices filled with the nervous energy they’d once shared as trainees. But Jihoon’s question lingered—why had they been sent back to this day, specifically?

“This feels like some kind of test,” Jihoon said, his sharp gaze flicking between the others. “A cosmic prank, maybe. Or worse, someone’s trying to mess with us.”

“Or,” Jeonghan said lightly, though his eyes were serious, “it’s a second chance.”

Everyone turned to him, confused. But then realization spread across their faces.

Junhui’s heart clenched as he thought about Gyuhan. Memories of the member who had once been part of their lives, but was no longer with them in the present-day SEVENTEEN, flooded his mind.

“We’ll figure it out,” Junhui said, his voice firmer than he expected. “But first, we need to find the others. Not everyone is here in the dorm.”

Seungkwan nodded. “Maybe we’ve been split up. We just need to figure out where.”

“And how,” Jihoon added. “If this is 2015, Seungcheol and the others could be anywhere. They might not even realize what’s happening to them yet.”

Mingyu groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “This is too much. What if we mess something up while we’re here? Isn’t time travel supposed to have all these rules? What if we ruin everything?”

Junhui shot him a reassuring look, though his own nerves were fraying. “We just need to be careful. Let’s not do anything drastic until we figure out what’s going on. Besides, we’ve already traveled to another parallel universe, haven’t we?”

“Step one,” Jeonghan said, taking charge. “We confirm who’s here and who isn’t. After that, we retrace our steps. What were we doing on this exact day in 2015?”

Seungkwan spoke up, still nervously glancing at the calendar. “If I remember right, we were supposed to have the day off. The hyungs were running errands, and Jihoon was working on a demo.” He turned to Jihoon. “Right?”

Jihoon nodded slowly. “That’s correct. But if things are already different—”

“They might not be following the same timeline,” Junhui finished, his chest tightening at the implications.

A tense silence fell over the group, each of them deep in thought.

Finally, Jeonghan straightened up. “Alright, here’s the plan. We stick together for now. We find the others and figure out what’s changed. And no one does anything reckless until we know what’s going on. Got it?”

Everyone nodded, the tension in the room palpable but manageable under Jeonghan’s guidance.

Junhui’s gaze lingered on the cracked phone in his hand. His mind kept drifting to Gyuhan—the person whose presence marked this exact moment in time.

If this really was a second chance, he wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers. Not this time.

© yiichan, 2024 origin of divider

[webanglikethat]

things ram and devi have done and said without even saying they’re in love / being in a relationship because they drive me insane:

Ram defied orders from the LITERAL goddess because he didn’t want Devi to die, thus ignoring his duties

-> like …. he willingly let another woman DIE in Devi’s place and !!!! this act had been committed five years ago, when the affection between the two had BARELY begun blossoming

-> “Why bother when the goddess herself allows you to decide people’s fate?” had been Devi’s question to him, but little did she know, he already defied every rule for her, going against literal fate

he saved Devi during the arson, putting her before his own BROTHER

he went after Devi when she took off on an horse during the attack, and carried her in his arms back to safety (which he realllyy didn’t have to do 🤭)

it’s revealed he would purposefully change his route to catch a glimpse of Devi

-> Ram’s wishful desire was to see her at every service; just hoping to catch her smile along the hallowed halls where once they met

he “noticed an unfamiliar feeling rising inside him” when he met her again

Ram always found an excuse to touch Deviya — holding her hand to lead her somewhere, brushing his fingers over her cheek to calm her, cupping her face, putting a hand on her waist, trapping her against the wall, his finger on her lips, holding her hands tighter as if it could heal her holding her waist as she straddled him

he said he “missed her smiling at him”

he kissed her neck (quite literally marking her) while thinking of how De Clare would react, not realizing the jealousy that was growing in his heart at the thought of losing her to him

-> which he then said (in season 2) he’d do it on her wedding day too !!

-> in the same episode he tried to pretend he doesn’t care about their engagement 💀, mission failed my dude 🤭

“That. The way he felt when she was near him. The reason he always looked for her in the crowd and couldn’t stop teasing her”

ram always thought of marriage as a transaction, a duty to be fulfilled, something he simply had to do. and love? love wasn’t a necessary equation. that’s what his family line looked like — alliances, partnership, all devoid of tenderness. but Deviya awakened something in Ram — and for the first time, he was confused and lost

“It’s ironic that even with all the knowledge and wisdom of the world at my disposal, I still can’t figure this out on my own. I’m almost thirty, and for all of my life I have denied myself what I wanted because the greater good was more important. And in all this time… no one has ever been able to enchant me as much as…”

Ram talked Devi through her anger at the reception so she wouldn’t make a mistake in front of her guests and lose the position she had so long worked for (he helps her see the bigger picture)

Ram told her their connection wasn’t for nothing. they were fated for a reason

the less often he saw her, the more he wanted to see her

-> and if she didn’t came, he would wait for her

he noticed everything she did — be it the way she shifted from foot to foot when she was nervous or how she looked at him in fear (from the subtlest of things to the most obvious, he noticed it always)

he teased her about how much she liked him but then said:

“such a rakhasi cannot possibly die. I need her”

admitting, even if it was meant as a tease, that he could no longer exist in a world in which her presence didn’t fill his heart’s pages

he comforted her on the day of her death, quickly realizing that:

“/ wish this had happened to me instead... hasn't she been dealt enough pain already, in her life?”

“when Ram realized how sincere his desire to take all Deviya's troubles for himself was, it quickly became clear that their secret relationship had taken on a new meaning … growing into something profound”.

what started as a perhaps meaningless, fleeting, teasing affair quickly turned into something more — something he couldn’t put a name to, but he could feel encompassing his body every single second

he could no longer pretend it was just for fun or a distraction

so he finally mustered up the courage to ask Devi to be with him (but not officially 😔) even if it was in secret — for he would rather have her in secret, than lose her be it to death or another man. 

noticing how distressed she was, he closed his eyes and then slowly began kissing her fingers. Devi noticed that his eyelashes were trembling. “he’s nervous as well, but once again he tries to reassure me first, even though he could use some support himself."

he always put her before himself, over and over again. this isn’t something he was taught, like I mentioned before. for him, marriage or love was based on children, mutual respect and the husband’s views. yet he interminably put himself in the background, just to help Devi shine

“they kissed each other gently and yet desperately at the same time, as only doomed lovers can kiss.”

“he was with her right at that moment. sharing her pain and fear... would that have been possible if what they had was fleeting? he always chose her, no matter what.”

Ram: “I'll be with you. no matter what.” Devi: “I know”

he fought for her, allowing her to escape

and her thoughts led to him, even as she bled out

“the very thought of losing him was unbearable. and just as things were beginning to blossom between them.” “dying would be a little easier if you were holding my hand right now”

"I'm with him in my thoughts, heart, and soul." // "even if it doesn't make any real sense, it does for me. l feel calmer this way."

being away from her, when she was in a coma, made Ram feel like he was dying too // the thought of losing him (as she actively died) felt even worse than death

-> his biggest dream was being able to touch her again, to gaze into her eyes, to see his affection being mirrored in hers. to hear her laughter again was all he could hope for

they risked MULTIPLE times to be caught just to bask in each other’s presence — even if it was only for a few moments because the risk was worth it — they are worth it to each other

his face “instantly lost colour” when she mentioned her wedding

he tried pretending it didn’t hurt him — that he could accept it, that he could have a part of her and let it be enough, but they both knew the truth

so she laid out her future: her married to De Clare, visiting India from time to time, meeting Ram’s wife — but not him because he would still remain a coward who couldn’t voice what he wanted

so he finally let his feelings free and kissed her, marking her neck (in the middle of the hall where everyone could’ve caught them)

he touched her under the table — at dinner, where again, anyone could’ve seen them !!!

the moment Devi’s smile faded, Ram noticed immediately and shifted his tone, asking softly, “is something wrong?” -> he is SO attuned to her emotions, so skilled at noticing even the slightest change — which is especially important since Ram isn’t portrayed as someone who does this for just anyone

they know each other well enough to play off each other’s words without malice — their banter is so much fun (especially on passion route)

he fingers her in the library 🤭 he’s SO careful with her even though it’s obvious they’re both overwhelmed by the connection — he’s letting her set the pace and the fact that Ram doesn't push, but instead allows her to slowly move at her own pace, amplifies her vulnerability and makes her every move feel more significant. she’s still confused on what she wants and he lets her explore it on her own, and she knows he will wait for her

he wanted to dance with her despite not knowing how to — and in front of everyone too !! he was ready to embarrass himself for her

-> he is so caught up in her that he’s willing to push past his own comfort zone, even if it means embarrassing himself a little; as long as he can witness her smile

now she is the one who takes the power and kisses him, marking HIS neck — and so they imagine each other naked, finally taking the next step and ….

he finally admits it to himself.

He wanted to finally understand what it meant to connect with the woman he loved with all his heart.

Ram Doobay is in love with Deviya Sharma.

[rei-ismyname]

Resurrection of Magneto Highlights 1

RoM is a book that loses something in the highlight format as the big moments are truly earned and impactful. There's an ongoing narration, dialogue or soliloquy running through each issue tying everything together and to truly give context I'd have to annotate it. Lucky for us, Al Ewing and Luciano Vecchio are masters and every panel serves as a coda for Storm or Magneto from SWORD and X-Men Red. This is easily my longest Highlights yet, there's just so much to say.

I wish I dreamt about Magneto

Ororo has a dream of a full page splash - Magneto, Max, saying 'I was wrong' surrounded by five of his iconic helmets. 3 red ones, bloody and facing towards the world. 1 black, 1 white upright behind his back. It's been quite a while since Uranos the Undying tore his heart out on Judgement Day but it's good to see Ororo has some measure of peace and love on Arakko with Craig of NASA.

She's the deuteragonist of RoM so she chooses to follow her dream and seek Max in the afterlife. Ororo shows up at Adam Brashear/The Blue Marvel's underwater base and asks for help with exactly that. He lampshades how bozos like Reed would deem it impossible and leads her to a portal. He's in the middle of explaining how dangerous it is and requires... we don't hear because Storm takes a running leap and YOLOs into it. Tarn the Uncaring and a who's who of Marvel cosmology are there to greet her. Tarn is insulted that Ororo has come for the guy who exploded his head, but as above, so below - he loves to talk and she outwits him.

Ashake is often obliquely referred to but very rarely directly, so it's lovely to see her magical ancestor here to help. As Ororo pets her black cat, Ashake confirms this is a place of magic. Symbols and metaphors are powerful here - something Mags could use help with in his current state. It's also connected to the Kabbalistic tree of life, but I'm not very knowledgeable about that.

Two redrawn and recoloured keystone moments of Max and Ororo's relationship down the bottom.

She resolved to see this through and her thought carries her towards the Sphere of Judgement. Unexpectedly a bunch of Dominions bar her path, though luckily the two mutants are too small to truly be of interest to them. Still, a single mortal arriving in Overspace is significant and they prompt her to ask questions. The face of Dominions are shown but it's still fairy tale rules. The most important thing she learns is about Enigma, though she doesn't know it at the time.

The Sphere of Judgement is hostile, everything is inverted. Lightning is red, the river is lava, clouds are black, everything is broken. She notices this spot from her dream and the charred frames of Max's five helmets still sit in blood. Magneto has been here for months by choice, bypassing the Waiting Room Wanda built but refusing to move on. He believes he deserves this.

Finally she reaches Magneto weeping blood in front of a wall of names. Everyone he ever killed and he's counting every one, remembering their name. He's judging himself, punishing, and doesn't think he deserves to leave.

He shares his greatest shames, his most recent cruelties. Worst, the ones he convinced himself was necessary. He's overwhelmed by the red in his ledger and in this place of judgement lashes out, flinging names off the wall at Ororo while naming the person. What snaps him out of it is the mention that something happened to Charles, heh.

'The no-place of his heart' 👌

Max turns the judgement on Ororo but she rejects it, calling him out for extending Charles the grace he won't extend to himself plus a little hypocrisy. Magneto has always been prone to drama and that tendency can hurt as much as it heals.

That really gets him going, but he's judging himself more constructively now. Love, friendship, accountability. The things that are keeping some part of tethered to the living world. He pulls one more name down to say the name aloud before he sends it at Ororo - it's his - Max Eisenhardt. Still, he cries 'it's out of our hands.' He truly wants to give up but I think a part of him knows his story isn't done.

Ororo disagrees. Displaying why she's the only person who could assist in the resurrection of Magneto, she covers his eyes and remembers the rules of this place. The wall of the dead becomes its opposite - the wall of the living. Not those he killed but those he saved. It's enough to pull him out of punishing himself. Neither group should be forgotten but he can choose to save life rather than take it - to change.

Torturing yourself in a personal hell might appease some of those dead, but accepting responsibility to the living should be what comes after judgement. Suffering helps no one, and as he says to Logan as he's about to kill Charles much later - 'no more martyrs.' Part of why I enjoyed Magneto identifying Logan Behavior is because he himself is the king of it. Charles too. All three are prone to martyrdom but dying is easy. It's living that's difficult and worthwhile. Secluding yourself from the world, whether it's in the Sphere of Judgement, a mega prison, or with a pack of wolves - is senseless and selfish. Living is better.

Next time - what does that actually mean for both of them and how do they get out of this place? It's not as simple as turning a key. Choosing to live is hard work. Metatextually, change and rebirth requires a tour of all that he is, all that he's done. What's the point of killing a character and then bringing them back the same as they were? Comic books do it all the time, but Magneto's long history is a study of opposites and extremes. He, the writer and the reader all need to deconstruct Magneto so he can be reconstructed as a better person. With the benefit of hindsight we know he succeeds, but what does that actually look like for him? 60 years of his oversized influence on the world is a lot and it only gets better from here.

[xetlynn]

ekko x reader?? any prompt is fine! (I just want more ekko fanfics 😒)

(Same I feel it) I hope this does you justice!!!

Arcane Imagines- Ekko

Quicker

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: Ekko has a whole plan and date set up to say I love you.

“[Name], come with me.” Your boyfriend grasps your hand, taking you away from whatever you were just doing. “What- Ekko!” You laugh out, trying to keep up with his pace. “I need to show you something.” Is all he responds with, pulling you forward. “Okay, okay, my legs are starting to hurt.” You pant, squeezing his hand for dear life. 

“Just a little longer, I’m sorry.” He squeezes back, jumping over a large pipe in the alleyway, you barely get over it yourself, tripping. He lifts you up by your armpits, keeping you moving. “Shit, Ekko, I need a second!” You squeal out, now going down hill. “Almost there, pretty.” He shakes his head, he shakes his arm around your waist. “Here, here.” He makes a sharp turn, you almost cause the both of you to fall when he does an abrupt halt. “Oh my gosh.” You murmur. 

You hunch over, grabbing your knees and coughing so you can catch your breath. “Was that necessary?” You huff, looking up at him from your side view. He laughs, crouching down with his hand on your back. “Sorry, just look up.” He pinches your chin in between his index and thumb, forcing your head to look forward. You tiredly lift your body back up, leaning on Ekko. 

“What am I- Oh…” You suddenly perk up, letting go of your partner, walking forward. “You make all this?” You twirl around the room full of paintings, lights set up with a miniature table, two pillows on either side. “I had a little help.” He scratches the back of his head, footsteps come towards the both of you. Your eyes widened in fear, going straight to Ekko  with a defensive stance who chuckled. “Don’t worry, it's a friend.” He whispers. 

“Heyy, [Name] wasn’t it?” A pink-haired girl comes into view and your jaw slacks. It was Vi. When you met her you were very impressed by her. Immediately wanting to be her friend even though Ekko was quite pissed at her. You kept making jokes with her the entire time. “Vi!” You go over to her and you guys give each other a high five. “You helped him with all this?” You do a little finger motion. She chuckles. “I practically set everything up. He made all the paintings though.” She slings her arm over your shoulders as you admire their shared work. 

“What’s this for?” You question. “Oh, you know…” Ekko nervously chuckles. “He’s so whipped, that’s why.” Vi whispers. Ekko glares at her. “I know right, his mind is quite literally plagued by me.” You mutter back to the older girl who bursts out laughing.

“He talks about you every time I see him. So I can confirm.” Vi goes over to Ekko, punching his shoulder. His eyebrows furrowed angrily. “You can leave now.” He shoves the pink-haired girl away from him. She only snickers in response. “I think he wants me to leave.” 

“You think so?” He sarcastically asks, hands on his hips dramatically. “Alright, alright. If he’s too annoying just call out for me.” Vi winks your way and you excitedly nod your head while giggling. “Bye! It was nice seeing you again!” You wave her off, her figure going back into the shadows. 

Ekko just stands there, lips pressed together. Embarrassed by his old friend who just made fun of him with his girlfriend. “Oh my gosh! This is so cute!!!” You squeal, running over to a painting of the both of you pressing foreheads. “I love this one.” You mutter, picking it up to admire it better. 

“It’s a favorite for sure.” Ekko comes up behind you, kissing your shoulder. 

“I’m stealing this. It’s going in my room.” You place it back down so you can turn around and attack him into a bunch of face kisses. He holds your waist, letting you do as you pleased with his face. “You ready to eat?” He asks once you stop kissing him. “Oh, right. Yes!” 

He leads you over to the little dining area, you sit down and then he takes the top off of the dish before sitting down himself. It uncovers your favorite food. You let out a gasp. “You’re amazing!” You grin ear to ear, lifting your fork automatically at the sight of the wonderful grub in front of you. 

He watches your mouth water, digging into it. He admires you sweetly, not picking up the fork for himself. As you stuff the food in your mouth you notice that. “Wha ar you thoin?” You speak with some of the food dripping out of your mouth. He winces but smiles at you. “Staring at you.” He points to his eyes before widening them, leaning closer to you. You swallow your food. “Creep.” 

He places a hand on his heart. “Yeowch.” He pouts his lips out. “I’m just kidding, give me your hand I want to be romantic.” You stick your hand out over the table and he just snorts at you. Giving you his hand and you clamp down on it. “You are so perfect.” You tell him with a straight face, his cheeks heat up at your words. “And I love you.” You breathe out.

You guys haven’t said it to one another yet. His face falls from your confession. That was literally the whole point of tonight because he wanted to say it first. His silence scares you so you go to let go of his hand but he does let go. His face seemingly in shock. 

“You… okay?” You wave your other hand in his face. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Babe.” He sighs, head falling down. 

“Should I not have said it?” You worriedly ask. “No, no.” He shakes his head. “I mean maybe? No, the answer is yes you should have but no because that’s the whole point of this set up! I had a whole speech prepared!” He exclaims, throwing his empty hand in the air, expressing his distress. 

Your mouth goes into the shape of an ‘o’ as he groans. “I can’t believe you beat me to it.” He frowns. “I can pretend I didn’t say it. Go ahead. Say your speech.” You sit up straighter going to eat your food and act like you didn’t say you loved him. “You can’t go back in time now! You already said it.” He snickers. 

“Sorwy, I weally din’t knoow!” You express regret with the food in your mouth once again while you talk. 

“It’s okay, I promise. I’ll still say the speech if you want to hear it.” He gives you a small smile. 

You nod your head eagerly. Gripping his hand tighter. 

He pulls out a wrinkled piece of paper. Straightening it out on the table, and clearing his throat before he begins.

“[Name], it’s been 6 months of dating you, but not 6 months of loving you.” He glances up at me with a smirk as I lean in closer when he continues talking. “I’ve loved you since you accidentally ran into that pole, distracted by us staring at one another.” You flinch at the memory, feeling the pain in your forehead and nose. “I’ve loved you since you told me all about your passionate love for helping others and wanting to join me and the fireflies. I’ve loved you since you confessed to me. That’s why I wanted to say I love you first.” He coughs at the end of that, playfully scowling at me. You put your hand up in defense. “So, I love you.” He crumples the letter, throwing it beside you as tears well in your eyes. “Awe, Ekko.” You take the piece of paper, stuffing it in your pocket. 

“I beat you once again.” You maneuver around the table and sit in his lap. “Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “Gotta be quicker.” You simply shrug, leaning against his chest, playing with his hand. 

[moirindeclermont]

Bridgerton folks, this is the end of this story. Thank you for all your support and encouragement! See you maybe tomorrow with a meme, definitely on Monday with Daddy!Colin (and I'll do also Pirate!Colin, and then starting on the 9th of December something really nice for the whole festivity period, so stay tuned...)

This is "5 times Colin Pen's first and one time she was his", enjoy!

(Moirin - post writing - would suggest a tissue... Fair warning)

---

"We kissed. Bloody hell, me and Pen kissed. I had the courage to ask her and she admitted it was her first kiss because she was waiting for me. I'm still wrapping my mind about that. I am completely obsessed with her and she was waiting for me. How blind must I be to not see her sooner? And yet, she asked me to ask her again about the kiss. I did and she nodded. I've not kissed a lot of girls (and a couple of boys... A couple of times, just to know) but that kiss felt like a revelation.

I heard so many people saying that when you find the right one, you just know. I didn't understand. Until Pen and I kissed. Was this love?

Just in front of me this whole time?

And as the kiss deepened and we started making out, I could feel my heart racing and my heart spinning. She was there the whole time. "

They separated for a beat before going back for another one. And ohhh that might be a problem. Because now that he knows what Pen taste like, he is not sure he can go back.

Turns out they don't need to separate because Pen is right on the same page with him. He whispered against her lips "I don't think you can rid of me now, Pen" and her smile was the best thing he ever saw.

The Serengeti? Way overrated.

The lights of New York at New Year's Eve? They could not hold against Pen kissing him and smiling like that. "I was hoping you'd say that," she said and their hands slide together.

Suddenly he feels like a real idiot, because he knew that she was his way before. He was just on the cusp of puberty, when Pen took his hand for the first time and he knew at such young age. He knew with a certainty that he had lost somewhen over the years. He knew that could never been something else like this.

It took years all over the world and a couple (or more) dreams for him to rediscover that deep truth he knew all along.

He told her about that and Pen shed a tear. "I remember that day, it's when I knew I'd never love someone the way I love you," and fùck, wasn't he about to say the same thing?

Pen told him about an exercise her therapist ask her to do. To describe a day in her future. "I don't need to read it, I know by heart."

She told him of a marvelous day waking up cuddled with her husband ("that's you", she said and his heart somersault), the kids (another somersault) home from school.

A walk near the sea or by the lake after breakfast and then while the kids play she and her husband ("me, me, me" was thinking Colin) writing by their desk, trying to not get distracted by each other presence like so often happens (a wink on her side, oh... He can't wait to get to know that side of her soon). A nice lunch together and then going on a little adventure in the afternoon all together.

And at night, after supper ad putting the kids to bed, finally she ad her husband will have some time alone ("I left it vague here, but if you want to, I can give you a description of the night as well," and Colin must have died there).

"I like that day," Colin says, as she sheds tears of happiness.

"It never felt like a possibility, until now."

That deserved another kiss.

Their second kiss. And yet it still feel it like the first.

"I wonder if our kiss would still be the same thrill in 50 years," Colin says and she is absolutely convinced it will. Colin is sure too.

"A life for first with you, seems like the perfect life for me," she says again, and as he takes her hand and kiss her, Colin whispered on her lips "I could not agree more."

The end