#(they do let them fight the abyss though)

[tea-cat-arts]

I simply think this fandom doesn't give Wei Wuxian enough credit for the various ways in which he saved Lan Wangji

[blood-orange-juice]

So far Natlan seems to be a nation of surprisingly mentally healthy and well-adjusted people

This is amazing. I am amazed

[chaoticwriting]

WORLD CLASS HERO

Phantom is a world class hero that is often associated with the Justice League. Though he never officially joins them, Phantom is known enough that people will always treat him kindly.

His first major appearance is when a big tsunami about to hit Japan. All the other heroes can do is evacuate the civilian as they try their best to stop the tsunami. When all hope is lost, a figure with white hair and black and white jumpsuit appears out of thin air and releases an ice beam out of his hand. It takes less than a second for the tsunami that the whole Justice League struggles to stop to freeze and stop right then and there.

He doesn't stop there nor does someone get a picture of him as all his pictures are blurry at best. The only evidence that he is there is the eyewitness and the frozen tsunami that seems to melt slowly over time. After that, he is often seen in multiple parts of the world, mainly where there are no heroes based there. From the middle east, to south east Asian, all around the world he can be spotted stopping crimes and helping people.

It is not a whole year later that the Justice League finally got in contact with Phantom when a major attack by Darkseid almost killed all the heroes. Millions of his army swarm the earth from multiple portals around the world killing and slaughtering people left and right. It is also that night that the people figure out that so far they have only seen a fraction of Phantom's power.

A screech boom towards the whole world. To people of earth, it sounds like a cry of pain and despair, of sadness and suffering, sounds of their loved one asking for help but to Darkseid and his army it sounds like war cry, like deep anger and fury, like the cry of a warrior promising revenge. The results of the cry leave the people of Earth sobbing while simultaneously knocking down all of Darkseid's army.

Just as everyone thought it was over, hundreds of thousands of eldritch beings summoned from a giant green portal appear out of thin air. From the front a girl and a man leads the army.

The girl raises her hand and shouts "By the order of King Phantom, eliminates all the enemies." Multiple screeches and roars sound at the same time and those beings rush towards the Earth, slaughtering the unconscious parademons without hesitation. The Earth general population lets out a sigh of relief that it is not them that is the target and some sharp ones catch on the fact they receive order from someone named Phantom. Is it the same Phantom they know? That is later to be figured out.

At the same time the Justice League are watching as Phantom brawling against Darkseid and the man and the girl that came out of the portal fight against Darkseid's elites.

As time passes, lesser and lesser parademons are left on earth with all of them being dragged back into the green portal. When all the parademons are taken away, Phantom and the man and girl forms suddenly change into something more eldritch in nature.

The girl now looks more windy with her form still humanoid but a lot less solid than before. Her ears are pointy with like an elf and whenever someone looks at her, they feel free and unrestrained.

The man in comparison looks a lot more domineering. His fiery white hair and red eyes along with his buff figure gives off an oppressive feeling to people around him.

Compared to the other 2, Phantom form seems almost nonexistent. In fact the only reason people know he is there is because of the cold breeze that accompanied his surroundings. But to people that truly observe him, they feel like it is hard to focus on him. Like space itself warps light to make it hard to see him. His icy crown and golden ring makes it hard for people to stare too long at him. For if you stare too long into the abyss, the abyss will stare back at you. That quote comes to mind when someone wishes to describe Phantom.

After they transform, the remaining battle ends as if Darkseid and his elites are merely children throwing a tantrum. When Darkseid and his army are dragged back into the green portal and with that, the whole world falls silent.

For the world, it is only a year later that Phantom returns as a hero and continues helping people. But for those in the knows, they know that in the year Phantom is gone, the other realms are thrown into chaos as one after another, tyrants and evil gods are either captured, imprisoned or straight up killed.

The Justice League first gains the news when Raven informed them that his father and his army had been slayed with his realm under new authority. Later Dr. Fate informed them that Klarion has been partially sealed. Batman also received news that League of Assassin has been disbanded after the whole league just disappears.

The JL tries to contact Phantom but no one can get in contact with him. Even after Phantom comes back, no one receives any explanation except not to worry.

[corkinavoid]

Hey, @confused-they, this is for you and for everyone else who wanted more of this AU. Merry Christmas.

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 4]

[<- part 3]

[Written to 'Tantrum' by Ashnikko]

TW: mentioned mild gore (some inside parts become outside ones, nothing graphic)

Tim can't breathe.

Joker's mad laughter is ringing through the darkness of the warehouse, echoing in his head, the screeching sound straight out of nightmares. Hood should be nearby - as in, somewhere in this darkness along with him - but Tim can't think about that, his own maniacal giggles bubbling in the back of his throat, a grin tugging at his lips.

He has to get up. He has to stand, he has to fight, and it really shouldn't be this hard.

But he can't breathe.

Tim clutches his fingers on the fabric of his suit on the chest, distantly wondering if this is how Danny feels when he is more human than ghost. Probably not, he mentioned that breathing is only optional.

He really wants his boyfriend right now. His fiance. Whatever, he wants Danny, he wants his cold hands on his cheeks and the faint, humming purr of his core that Tim finds nice to fall asleep to, and-

Maybe later. He can't exactly summon him now, not in the middle of a fight, especially not in the middle of a fight with Joker of all people.

There's an angry growl somewhere to Tim's left, staticky through the voice-modulator. Then several sounds of gunshots and a gleeful, taunting yell of the madman.

Hold on.

Tim snaps his eyes open - not that anything changes, everything is still pitch-black around him - and blinks.

Why not?..

It's not like Danny is a civilian. Tim tends to pay little attention to the fact since the King of Infinite Realms doesn't hang out with the whole superhero convention on principle. But Tim is pretty sure he won't mind it this once.

Besides, Tim is so done with Joker that it's not even funny.

A few breathy chuckles escape his throat as he lets his body fully slump back on the floor and brings his left hand to his face, placing a quick kiss on the Ring through his glove. He doesn't need to do that, not really, but it's kind of a ritual at this point, and the gesture somehow makes him feel better.

"Danny," he whispers.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then, there's a soft, popping sound, and his beautiful boyfriend is floating right over him, faintly glowing and a little sleepy. Tim is momentarily distracted by his bare feet and pj pants with tiny rockets on them.

Danny yawns and tugs the hem of his t-shirt down as it starts to float. "Whas'sup," he mutters, rubbing his eyes and clearly not fully awake, and Tim's heart melts instantly. He loves Danny. He just... He loves him, okay? He loves that Danny didn't question his summons for a moment, he loves that he came even though he was obviously sleeping, and he loves that Danny is wearing a tee he stole from Tim.

Unfortunately, before he is able to get his shit back together, another sound of gunshot ripples through the air, and Danny startles, blinking himself awake and looking in the direction of it. Then, his eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth makes a soft 'O' shape before he turns back to Tim and tilts his head in question.

"You want me to deal with him? The clown, I mean, not your brother," he asks, and it's so casual and off-handed that Tim actually huffs a laugh.

"Sorry, I was just- I'm really tired of his ass," Tim should probably sit up, this is not a talk they should have while he is lying on the ground. On the other hand, Jason is somewhere out there, and he has guns and doesn't have a clear visual around him, so maybe Tim shouldn't sit up.

Danny hums, "Is that a yes?"

Tim just nods. He is pretty sure Danny can see him despite the darkness. "I promise it's a one-time thing, I don't plan on calling you every time one of local lunatics acts up. I just... I fucking can't with him," he admits with a defeated sigh. But, before he can spiral any further into the abyss of unworthiness, Danny's cold hands are cupping his cheeks, and his icy eyes are looking right into Tim's sky blue.

"Love, I don't mind getting rid of each and every one of your Rogues. Granted, it would probably fuck up the timeline, and Clocky would be mad, but I'd do it if you want me to, no questions asked." His voice is quiet, and Tim has never been more grateful for his domino mask, because he can feel his cheeks heating up and he doesn't want Danny to see the exact effect his words are causing.

"I- Okay," he quietly agrees, and then blinks, backtracking, "Wait, no, don't fuck up the timeline. Just deal with the laughing bitch this once, and that's it. We can handle the rest."

Danny is smiling at him in that adoring way Tim recognizes as 'I really want to kiss you, but it's not the time or place'. Then, he nods and lets go of Tim's cheeks, straightening up in the air, and his clothes shift all at once, like a magic trick.

Gone are the stretched out t-shirt and the pants with rocket ships. In their place, Danny's body is head to toe covered in stars and galaxies that hold the vague shape of armor, and there's a slightly shimmering, blueish-green translucent cape over one of his shoulders.

The Crown over his head, the sentient artifact much like the Ring on Tim's finger, appears from nowhere, and, after a brief pause - Tim swears it was debating on whether or not the situation is worth the effort - promptly sets itself on fire. Blue flames cast long shadows on Danny's, no, King's face, making him look older and his cheekbones sharper.

Before, the boy was only faintly glowing, and, evidently, the others present in the warehouse were too distracted to notice him.

But now, with the flaming Crown casting dancing shadows on the walls of the warehouse, it's really hard not to see the otherworldly being making an appearance.

"Holy fuck," Tim hears Hood's quiet, astonished voice, and almost cracks a grin.

Yeah, he wants to say, that's my boyfriend. Although he suspects he and Jason are having vastly different reactions to Danny's presence. Because Tim kind of wants to take all his words about dealing with Joker back and take Danny home, straight to bed.

...He is going to have to strangle Jason in his sleep if his reaction is similar. No, that's a wrong thought, this is so not the time for it.

"Who are you, flying glowstick?" Joker sounds rightfully pissed off by the interruption, "Does Batsy employ alien kids now?"

Danny chuckles, the starry freckles on his cheeks glowing brighter, "Okay, just because you compared me to an alien, I'm not going to completely erase you from this plane of existence."

Tim snaps his head up.

"Wait, no killing," he reminds, not because he actually cares but because B would throw a fit. Danny brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

"No worries, he'll stay alive," he smiles at Tim, and to everyone else, it probably looks like stuff of nightmares, sharp, pointy teeth and lips stretched out far beyond human capabilities. But Tim sees it for what it is: a face of mischief.

"Do I get a vote in this?" Jason's deadpan voice comes from somewhere on the other side of the warehouse at the same moment as Joker screeches in rage, "Who the fuck do you think-"

"Nope," Danny pops the 'p', and Tim is not sure if he is answering to Hood or refusing to listen to the clown's monolog by it. Maybe it's both. It's probably both.

The next moment, Danny is gone, disappeared from the place he was floating at, and Tim hears a wet, very unpleasant sound followed by Joker's scream of pain.

"You see this?" He hears Danny's nonchalant, unfazed voice above the clown's pained cries, "This is your rib, bitch- Hey, quit whining and listen to me, it's important."

There's a slap, a rustle, and a sound of ripping fabric, and Joker's voice becomes muffled, like someone put a gag in his mouth.

"You're like Adam now, you know, lacking one rib," Danny continues, "Only I'm not making you a girl out of this one, I'm pretty sure you don't deserve to reproduce. Anyway, going further down that metaphor, I'm the God almighty in this situation, so if you want to keep the rest of your ribs - and the rest of other things that are supposed to stay inside of you - to yourself, you gotta do a thing for me, okay?"

There's some muffled groans that Joker makes in response, then an enraged growl, a sound of a struggle, another slap, and then that same wet, disgusting squelch.

"Two ribs, wow, okay, you're really being difficult about this!" Danny sounds so innocently dumbstruck about it that Tim suppresses a laugh. "Are you listening now?" There's a quiet, choking wheeze that answers him, and Danny sounds quite pleased when he says, "Great."

Tim debates if he should look. He doesn't exactly want to since the sounds provide enough context, but it might be somewhat cathartic for him.

And then the air around him inexplicably shifts, becoming cold and oppressive, weighting Tim down like a heavy blanket and pushing him into the floor. The dancing shadows and the blue light of flames on the walls twist and churn, like taking aim, and Tim doesn't know what Danny looks like right now but he knows he is as far from human as possible, his voice coming with a staticky, echoing whisper, a threatening hiss slithering inside Tim's ears.

"Play your little games all you want, Fallen Jester, but know that you can not win. The punchline to your joke is long overdue, and your soul has belonged to me for quite some time now," his words are cold and uncaring, and in all the time Tim has known his boyfriend, he has never heard him speak like this: with a sense of lazy power, like he is only humoring the people around him.

Like they mean nothing to him.

"I will not kill you, or at least not here and now. My Guiding Star doesn't want to see my hands dirty with your filthy remains. Besides, death is only a moment, and you don't deserve only a moment of suffering," he huffs a short, humorless chuckle, "But, luckily, I am the Eyes of the Universe, the Titan's Bane, the King of the Dead, and everyone will meet me once their eyes fall shut for the last time," there's a smile in his voice now, full of cold and merciless anticipation. Tim feels a shiver run down his spine.

"So just you wait, Jester, and I will meet you on the other side. Then we'll see how whatever is left of your soul is going to spend an eternity."

Tim's ears are ringing with the pure, somehow gleeful hatred that laces those last words. He didn't know he could literally taste the disgust and the promise of pain, and yet, here he is, with a hint of something sour on his tongue.

And then, the heavy, weighted air that has been charged with power is lifted, the shadows and bright blue lights are all gone, and Danny, wearing his pj's and smiling, is standing over him. His feet are planted on the ground for once, and the Crown is gone without a trace, but his t-shirt is still trying to float up. The boy tugs it down again, offering a hand to Tim.

"Wanna go out for a burger since I'm already here in Gotham?"

Tim had never breathed easier in his life. He laughs a little and reaches up, taking his beautifully unhinged boyfriend's hand and standing up.

"I thought you'd never ask."

[vifilms]

KNUCKLE VELVET, TORN ON MY TEETH

❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞

pairing. pitfighter!vi x bartender!reader

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: arcane season two spoilers, soft angst, smut, bartender!reader, crashout!vi mends her cold heart, inexperienced!vi, switch!reader + vi, fem coded reader, coded alcohol addiction, slight spit kink, strap use.

KNUCKLE VELVET TORN ON MY TEETH, there's something charming about the pitfighter who doesn't stop drinking until she reaches the bottom of the barrel and the bartender who keeps walking her home.

wc. 7k+

rayray yaps. popping my vi!oneshot cherry, hehe, and i'm happy to do so. the vi brainrot has been real as fuck lately. i fear it's not going away anytime soon. but i wanted to give a special shoutout to @hypnagogics for proofreading this fic, means sm to me ily + my sweet bubba, @absfawn for the title name, i could kiss you until my lips fall off. the best people ever, i love them so much. okay, now i have yapped enough! happy reading, hope you enjoy.

Trapped in the abyss, just when everything had been taken from her life seems to sacrifice another offering on a silver platter. Something else that she thought could be hers, but wasn’t. In the end, all of it was the same. Life is the same. She takes three steps forward, circumstances out of her control take her apart like enforcers imposing their will on Zaun, and she’s forced to move five steps back. It’s all she feels, powerless. 

Wanting nothing more than to drown her sorrows, forget all that she's lost. For everything that’s been taken, Vi feels an overpowering loss, threatening to take over everything she’s trying to build. But Vi thinks of none of it now, she can’t afford to think of one more thing. So, she doesn’t. All of her mind forgets. She forces herself to. 

Zaun, Piltover, Jinx, Vander, Silco, and Cait. 

She drowns in blood, sweat, and liquor for nights to come. She forgets everything and you are just the cherry top on this one shitty sundae. Anytime she’s here, Vi manages to get herself into a fight. Each time. Every time she tries to apologize or hold an ounce of guilt in her eyes, you see right through her crystal blues. From the very first night, you called her bullshit. Even if Vi didn’t give in, it was hard to hide her small smirk. 

She lets herself think it’s because you’re a bartender. You practically get paid to read people, listen to them vent about shit you probably don’t give two shits about and break up the fights that erupt every thirty minutes. Overinflated egos and drunken assholes weren’t a great mix. The jury was still out if you though Vi was one. She could have both, she didn’t really talk much. Vi fought, drank until she couldn’t see straight, and you helped her up to her small apartment right across the street and up the steps into her said apartment. 

No matter how hard she tries, it always ends the same. Vi looking like an imbecile and you, the pretty bartender who shuts down every advance she throws your way. Vi wonders who had a stronger shell, what you’re hiding in order to protect yourself. 

Maybe she is just an asshole. 

“You don’t have to walk me up here. I-I can make it just fine on my own.” 

As soon as your fingertips let go of her fragile frame, Vi’s inebriated body collapses on the concrete steps, grabbing onto the metal framing as if her life depends on it. 

“Really? Now you wanna prove a point?” 

“For your information, I’m always in it to prove a point.” 

Even if your words are harsh, with a soft smile and a hand open, Vi takes it as you let her lean on your weight as you assist her up the steps. There’s little shame to be had once the two of you make it in. It isn’t like the first time and when she noticed the scrunch of your nose in taking the smell, tequila and grease. Vi thought it was cute but she halts any further thought. 

Quickly, Vi disposed of her leather jacket and pants she’s left in boxers and the wrap protecting her chest. The part of her life that seems to be kept together. She doesn’t really mind it though, you. Seeing her like this. Even more so, she enjoys it. You’re always so dismissive at the bar, hardly holding eye contact, turning down any flirting she hurls your way. Just like the vomit Vi had nearly thrown up on your shoes but made a quick diversion for the bush to the right of her instead. 

This is truly the only time she knows you want her. Not so subtly, your eyes trace her like each pinpoint of your gaze is painting her on a clean canvas, one Vi wonders if she’ll like or not. When she’s been around you, she’s been wondering about a lot of things — thoughts she quite literally can’t afford. 

It’s her, nothing ever ends well when her feelings can get crushed on the other side. 

Everything she touches burns to ash before she can even hold it for a moment, a second of symphony retaliates with years of misery. How could you be any different? She wishes you would burn her underneath your gaze, put her out of the misery she feels growing every day, but you don’t. You’re always pulling her out of trouble when you truly don’t have to. It’s not your job to take care of her or hell, even look after her. 

But you do and she can’t seem to figure out why. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Just shut the fuck up and let me help you. Not everyone has a motive. Some people just like to help when someone is so clearly struggling.” 

“I’m not—” 

You give her a glare that seems to shut her up. You draw a bath for her. It’s easy to find her towels in the only cabinet. It’s an acute studio apartment. More so of a small room with a stove stop, minimal counter space, and one bathroom enough to bathe and brush her teeth in. There isn’t much left of it but it’s hers. Grabbing the first aid kit, you kneel between her legs, the mattress sits on the floor, her legs spread and stretching out in front of you. 

“Let me help you. Alright?” Vi grumbles, a incoherent complaint, but she lets you tend to her wounds. 

It’s mainly just cleaning off her dry blood as she still complains in the process, but there’s a few cuts on her face and her cheeks are already beginning to bruise. It’s not a secret, she bruises like a peach but she always makes sure her opponent is leaving a lot more with just a few cuts and a bruise the size of a plum. 

It’s then, when you’re concentrating on the cuts on her face, the busted lip she’s sporting; she looks at you. Maybe it’s the first time she has, but without even realizing it, she gets lost. Not in the way Vi doesn’t know who she is, that she’s completely lost on, but Vi sees you. 

Bright-eyed, optimistic, helpful, kind — all attributes she couldn’t claim but wears like a badge of honor. As if helping others instills you with a sense of purpose, something that’s always been a lost cause to her. Fight until the next fight, and the next, and the next. That’s what she’s done, she's always been a fighter. She’s fallen back on it when needed. It’s clear to her. Like a vision she could see, crystal clear through some stupid ball, it’s always been about survival. 

But how much longer does she want to fight and how much more does she have in her? 

“Thanks.” Vi speaks softly. 

Not knowing where to place her palms, she settles for her thigh. Silent as she watches, nearly analyzing every moment, every glance, every little thing you’re doing. It’s sobering to say the least. You don’t need to be delicate but you are. It’s more kindness than she deserves, nearly leaving a bitter taste on her tongue but when you offer a small smile and a soft whisper, you’re welcome. 

It’s the sweetest thing Vi has ever seen. 

There’s something different in the way you look at her. The soft omission exposes how sweet on Vi you may be. Definitely more than you’d let on, which was well…none. Up until tonight, she thought you hated her. With each word uttered in your direction, Vi assumed you’d rather swallow bile than stomach her slurred, flirty speech. 

“Why do you want to help? It’s not like I’ve exactly been—” 

“Kind?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

This time Vi lets the smile reach her eyes and your smile gets even sweeter. She can practically feel the sweetness rotting her teeth as she speaks. It’s the first time she feels something new, something as bright as the light radiating through your eyes. 

“You just seem different. Even if you do try to hide it.” 

With a flush of crimson coating the apple of her cheeks, she’s never been quite as exposed as this. The next few weeks are spent with less drinking, but Vi frequents the bar just as much as she did before. She orders a few pints just to talk to you. She’s learning more about you, slowly but surely, you’re opening up more. Divulging information you wouldn’t have before, trust is earned. It’s something you told her the first night you met and to this day, Vi still remembers it. 

Regardless of how drunk she’d been when you said it. 

It’s a typical night. Vi flirted with you but you aren’t being dismissive tonight but you’re careful enough to not let her know exactly how you feel. Everything you say is guarded enough you keep her on her toes, for a moment she thinks she might have to become a ballerina. It’s a slow night, Wednesday. Go figure Vi thinks. There was a woman who’d also been flirting with you all night. Vi thought she was beautiful, sweet, funny…certainly was making you laugh all night. 

Part of Vi wanted to feel jealous but it feels too good hearing you laugh, she says nothing. Maybe you just don’t like women. Vi was known for reading into things too much, thinking everyone thought with their heart first just like she did, and assuming every hot and attractive woman was into other women — just like she is. 

But the brunette left before closing, leaving Vi and a few other regulars paying their tab as they stumbled home with a belly full of liquor of their choosing. 

“Alright Vi, don’t you have somewhere to be? Maybe getting some sleep for the night?” 

“I don’t sleep much, it’s better if I don’t.” 

“Keeps the nightmares away.” 

All Vi does is nod. 

“Story of the century.” You take Vi’s empty pint before washing it dispersing in the sink before cleaning up the remainder of the bar top. “Everyone’s got one around here and the new one is usually even more depressing than the last.” 

“What about yours?” 

“If you wanna hear that, I’ll have to be the one doing the drinking.” You smile but it’s the first one Vi recognizes as insincere. 

“Yeah, seems to be the stone cold requirement for a heart to heart.” 

Vi’s silent as you vent to her about the customer who refused to pay up tonight until you threatened to kick his ass and that wasn't enough, you threatened Letty on him. Vi found herself only slightly entranced as you spoke with such color, your animated voice doing impressions of the stubborn patreon, moving your hands as you speak, eyebrows furrowed as you finished the story. 

You’re done cleaning and are ready to close by the time you finish, locking the door as Vi stuffs her hands in her pockets, “Can I ask you something?” 

You cling to your bag like a lifeline. Vi notices how tight your grip is on the strap, almost as if you’re afraid. Of what? She has a craving to find out. “Why’d you turn her away? She seemed plenty interested. Not your type?” 

You take a step forward, just as close as the last time you were in her apartment, tending to wounds she wouldn’t have really cared about but still she let you clean them. 

You didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway. 

“No, not really. I like my women a little rough around the edges, stumbling out of bars so wasted they can’t even walk home by themselves.” You smirk, grabbing the lapel of her leather jacket as you tug her closer to you. “Or is that what you want me to say?” 

“Is it true?” 

You both know the hope in her eyes is dangerous. 

Hope. 

A foreign concept in Zaun. If you get too close to the flame, you’ll get burned, dusting into ash as if you never existed. It’s what shimmer did to people, wipe them off the map until they reformed into a shell of what they used to be. You didn’t just get out of a place like this, not without some help. Vi could barely even help herself. 

The both of you know it’s a bad idea. A terrible, god awful idea, but you still move in closer to her. Vi notices and she wipes the smirk off her face, your warm hands finding purchase on her exposed hips, drawing soft circles on her hip bones. She likes it, even when her heart feels torn from being blown to bits by a certain blue-eyed beauty. 

Vi likes you. 

“Your skin is softer than I thought it would be, smooth like pure silk. Not that I’ve ever touched it before but I’ve got to believe it would feel a lot like this.” 

Vi feels a tingle up her spin, your touch is overwhelming, more than she bargained for really. A stumbling, messy kiss is all she really expected if anything. Not this. Clearly, you knew what to do. Leaving Vi a little clueless in that department, she’s knocked off her feet once again but this time in a way she wants to be. But actually bringing something this special to anything more than a few flirty quips? It never seems to be her strong suit. 

So, she puts her best foot forward. Her big stupid mouth, one she can never quite fully silence. “I can guarantee my lips feel a lot softer.” 

“Vi—” You speak her name like a warning, an unspoken law you’re breaking by entertaining your feelings and the bubbling sentiments you hold for her close to your heart. You know better than to keep it so close, but the halo in her eyes blinds you to reason and you let it. 

“It’s Violet but you can call me whatever you want, sweets.” 

You chuckle at the pet name. 

“Just one night. That’s it. Just to get it out of our system.” 

“One night, sweets. It’s all I need.” 

��� 

It’s how you ended up here, the third night in a row since the first, trapped under the web of Vi and her eager mouth. Slender, perfectly sculpted fingers feel like a hex to your cunt, every moment causing you to fall further into her spell. To say she has a certain talent would be considered an understatement. It’s clear Vi’s enjoying herself, fuck, damn near suffocates herself in your weeping cunt. Last night wasn’t nearly enough, she needs to have you, again. Not that you were complaining. 

As much as you hate to admit it, there has been no one as generous as her. As good as her, as sweet, as kind, and she did whatever the hell you asked for. Nothing has beaten the first night, her thumping clit nudging against your as she hiked one of your legs over her toned shoulders. 

It’s not a secret how built she is, far from it, but it’s another thing entirely to watch her flexed bicep ripple with every grind of her hips. Each movement seems to be calculated with precision, focused on doing more than just making herself feel good. With pure determination, glazed over crystal blue eyes, and a pouty scarred lip, she makes sure you’re enjoying this as much as her. With each moan you let slip, her confidence only grows until she’s commanded full control over you. She takes what she wants from you and in return you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, constellations created in the shape of her name as you come. 

“That’s it pretty girl, just for me, yeah?” Vi talks you through  as she works you through your orgasm with her strong hips, not stopping even after you’ve cum. She wants more and Vi pulls three more orgasms out of you before she’s done for the night. You expected her to be good. There was no shocker there but you didn’t expect her to be so sweet afterwards. Vi is a drunk, an addict, whether she wants to accept it or not. You could be just another object she’s addicted to. Somehow, you convince yourself it’s just a one time thing. It doesn’t mean anything, it won’t. 

Truthfully it feels much more than just a one night stand, more than an itch being scratched — the blossoming ache in your soul feels tethered to your heart every time Vi makes you feel an ounce of love — even when she tries to hide it behind a wall. Whether you’re aware, the wall can’t seem to stop crumbling. Brick by brick, it’s coming undone just as you have. Weak-willed and with purpose, you fall into her. 

There isn’t an inch of your body Vi didn’t kiss. Her lips tattooing every inch of your skin with marked affection, almost as if she’s mending your skin with the burn of her lips. When she claims your soft lips, haunting you with the salvation of perfection as her velvet tongue invades your mouth, the taste of you melting from her tongue to yours. The silent declaration you didn’t ask for but craved, the carnal moan leaving her mouth as she chuckles when your hips pathetically grind into hers. 

Vi enjoys your company, that much is clear, but this time you bring her to your place. It’s more or less the same. Both of you coming down from the highest of highs, you feel sticky, dirty, and damn right heavenly. Vi disappears into your bathroom, grabbing a wash rag before dampening the material underneath a warm faucet. Carefully, she kneels by your hips, legs twitching softly as her skilled fingers find your slit before Vi’s sucking the digit in your mouth. 

“I just wanted one last taste before I clean you up.” 

As she has before, Vi makes good on her promise and cleans you up. She enjoys when the pad of her thumb grazes against your clit, terribly overstimulated, your stomach twitches. All Vi can do is chuckle. 

“I’m just a little—” 

“Sensitive?” Vi smirks as you hide your face in the palm of her hands, the pad of her thumb gently caressing your skin.  

It’s the lightest she’s felt in weeks. Almost as if she’s floating on a cloud, she wants to stay up there in the cloudiest of nines. Just you and her and an aging mattress as she offers you everything she can give. Albeit, it isn’t much but she’ll still freely give. 

Like a dog with a bone, Vi corners you on the third night when it’s just you and her in the bar. Closing time has long since arrived and vanished into the crisp air of the night but Vi has you bent over the bar, desperation clawing at the weathered countertop of the bar as Vi’s fingers fucks your pretty little hole while her tongue laps at the slick that’s dripping out of you. Your pretty little skirt pushed up, your panties pushed to the side as she laps and sucks at your juices. She can feel you dripping onto her chin and it only makes her that much more eager to swallow every bit you have to offer. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—” Fuck. Vi starts doing tricks with her tongue, sliding in another finger, pushing against the soft spot buried deep as she toys with you in the way knows best. “We, um, Vi we said just one night.” 

“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl. Or did you forget?” Vi moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to shake under her mouth. “It’s not like you were complaining last night.” 

Vi silences you as her pace picks up, her fingers fucking you at such a pretty pace, feeling the build grow in the pit of your stomach edging to come to a full bloom. 

All of you begging for it to be released. Vi uses her free hand to slap your ass, sending you moaning and lurching forward. You push yourself back grinding against her tongue, before she removes her divine mouth as she kisses up your spine, her fingers stuffed inside you not faltering for a moment. 

Vi continues to kiss up your spine until she reaches the nape of your neck, her breath kissing your skin, your body shivers into her touch. Full lips ghost over your ear before whispering quietly, “Are you sure you want me to stop? I will if you want me to. I just thought you might wanna, you know, take my cock tonight. Give it a good ride.” 

The moan you let out would put Aphrodite’s to shame, needy and choked sobs escape you as her fingers thrust inside you faster than they have before. 

“Oh? Do you like the sound of that, babygirl? Want to show me how good you can be for me?” Vi doubled down on her efforts, enjoying how much you arched into her body, your hips pushing back as you grind into quick fingers. She’s fucking you better than well…anyone. 

“Vi, please.” Your voice catches in your throat, hoarse and full of need. An insatiable craving; one you fear only she can provide. A few mindless days and careless flirting to land in her sheets, her in yours, the details didn’t truly matter. A vampire out for blood, almost more venomous than precious canines breaking the skin, you yearned to suck on every last drop. But she didn’t seem to be in a mind frame to relinquish control. 

“Please what? I’m not sure if I understand you.” 

All of it, so tantalizing, so fucking infuriating. Three fingers inside you, effectively making you silent, shutting you up as she brings you closer to the edge. That’s the thing, truthfully, Vi has you right where she wants. Only a few thrusts away until you come undone around her. The black haired succubus increases the pace, thumb playing with your clit, her calloused fingers increasing your high as she applies more pressure on the thousands of nerve endings on your precious pearl. 

“Shit. You’re gonna pay for this.” 

“What? For making you come? I hardly constitute that as a crime.” 

Your hands reach for the counter top, you’re not sure what exactly you want, but Vi makes you come for the first time that night. It’s a game, the push and pull. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Some disposition falling far from your fingertips, a game to her and a downward hill spiral for you. Addiction festering next to an open wound and the only antidote can be found on her tongue. Tasting the devil’s mouth is one thing but swallowing the sensation of the woman you’re beginning to love is something else entirely. 

Vi, despite her best efforts not to, makes you fall over the edge. It’s more than her eager tongue and expectant mouth slurping at the vindication of your taste. The craving builds like an exposed vein. Her confidence irrevocably soars like a raven through the midnight sky. Even if Vi acts like she’s done this before, you could pull the curiosity intertwined with naivety a mile away. Violet has never done this before, not with a woman at least, you’re sure of it. She’s a fast learner and such a great accomplishment should replenish such a reward. 

With the energy you have left, you push your skirt down first, as Vi puts your underwear back in place. She doesn’t stop touching you. She can’t. There isn’t much she feels she has control over, this arrangement being one of them. She’s good at this and Vi enjoys it. Every other part of her life, failure surrounds her, her ability not to please anyone in her life. 

In a constant loop, she finds herself caught in the crossfire. Tugged between sister and lover, family and righteousness. Her enemy becomes her lover and lover becomes enemy — all of it poisons her blood and cures her core — and all of it makes her hear a voice she doesn’t recognize but it’s just as true as the four walls surrounding her. 

Oil and water. 

Collecting like scars on her porcelain skin, Vi feels herself sink like an obliterating star. There’s a wonder settled in her chest, it feels heavy and weak, two incapable fists unable to surround her heart with anything but loss, betrayal even. She can’t punch her way out of this one.

All of it wakes a fire in her chest, a dagger being punctured in her heart by the one Vi thought she could trust the most. She doesn’t want to admit it so she doesn’t. 

But this? It feels easy. 

She needs easy, light, even good. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it. 

Vi definitely doesn’t, the sentence flows like a never-ending stream of waterfall continuously drowning her. The blood on her hands stains her perception of all things pure, she wonders how she even sees you at all. How you see her more vividly than anyone, possibly even Cait. There’s no judgment, no snarky remark of where she comes from. Even if she thought there had once been love, Vi questions it now. 

When you come, it feels like a breath of fresh air, a golden wave washing over her sinful hands. Each stroke of gold, your grit and blind hopefulness soaks Vi’s entity. This is what she wants. There’s nothing more than this, someone she could love, who loves her. It’s uncomplicated but the feeling flees as you come to it. Vi can’t help but feel regretful as you cover your ass, it’s such a pretty sight. She can’t stop that she’s greedy, you’ve fed her for the first time in her life and now Vi feels full but she’s only human. 

A sinner always craves more. 

She lets her touch linger on the gold between your thighs, pushing the white substance back into you before Vi lets you feel how wet you are, the dripping slick feels uncomfortable caged into cotton underwear and she wants you to feel it. The breath Vi hears are still heavy, impossibly heavy, and there’s pride in hearing you center yourself, back pressed against her chest as Vi keeps you in place. 

The pleasure within your body begins to slither away as you come back into the angel you are and not the sexual deviant bent over the woman who never pulls her punches. 

“Felt good, yeah?” Vi says. Her angelic, sweeter than the cotton candy stick in your teeth, voice penetrates through. You like it too much. It shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. Desperately, you want to keep this casual but you’re even losing your footing. 

You pride yourself on the lack of attachment; you don’t need it. Never really had. But then with her it seems to change even faster than the seasons, your wall breaks somehow in between from spring to summer. With intent, you move around, her bright eyes have darken a bit but the fading light looks brighter than you’ve ever seen it. 

Fuck, Vi is making this difficult. 

“You could say that.” You speak softly, a tremble in your voice occurs but Vi says nothing but she does smirk. “Can I ask you something?” 

You turn around and suddenly Vi is staring at your exposed cleavage, the one you use to draw in patreons and to fill your pockets with as many tips as one can muster. Vi had been one, a faithful one trying to drink her away to the bottom of every bottle until she found something else for her. Something that didn’t leave a burn in her throat. 

“What is it?” 

“Was it your first time? The first night?” 

Sheepishly, Vi blushes. For a second, she contemplates lying but you’d see right through it. Right through her. It would only take one look in her blues and you would know. 

“That obvious?” Vi struggles with her words next but she manages to murmur a lame excuse. “Stillwater didn’t leave much time for this.” 

“And after?” You tease but the sincerity in your eyes soothes her. 

“There could have been but there wasn’t. Some things just don’t fit.” Oil and water is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue. 

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have been so, I don’t know, selfish?” 

“There’s nothing selfish about it. I wanted to make you feel good. Did you enjoy yourself?” This time she makes your skin feel hot. Fuck. 

“Yeah, I did enjoy myself,” you pressed against her as your arms loop around Vi’s necks to bring her closer “but I think it’s officially my turn to offer my services. Don’t you think so?” 

It’s how Vi ends up here, in your place, in your bed — soaked. 

If there was one thing you knew, it was how to please someone. You managed to pull whimpers out of her she didn’t even know existed. The desperate plea coming from her shivering body as she spilled in your mouth the first time sent a shiver down her spine, the band in her stomach snapping as you sloppily spit on her cunt, constant circles of pressure on her clit seeing nothing but your eyes look up at her. 

Not letting a single drop go to waste, you fucked Vi through it, swallowing her completely. Vi shed the wrap covering her chest next. Her body bruised from the pit fights but you couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than her. You paid attention to her collarbones, neck, and her tits. Sucking on her nipples as Vi tries to come down from the high you placed her on, she doesn’t think she ever will. 

She tries not to think that she wanted these things with Caitlyn. Cait. Cupcake. 

Vi only allows herself to think of her when she’s dreaming, visions of what that could have been, what she used to be. All of it so trivial, so senseless when she thinks of you. How you make her feel is different and she tries not to think of what it all means. 

One night. 

Then two. 

Now three. 

In another life, maybe she was stronger, and didn't need to be wanted. Hell, even needed. She could wait for someone who she thought loves her but the other part of her doesn’t want to think, she wants to feel. Vi likes feeling the softness of your skin, the light in your laughter, the swell of your exposed chest, the way your greedy eyes take in her abs, your soft lips kissing every part of her skin. The smooth, the scarred, the unworthy — you take it all in such stride. 

“Do you want to stop? I think I lost you for a second.” You inquire to the pretty girl beneath you, her hands find your waist, creating makeshift circles on your hip bones. 

“No, that’s the last thing I want.” Vi brings you to her lips, capturing your bottom lip, tongue invading your mouth. She tastes herself as your tongue melts with hers and the rest of her worries melt away. It’s just you and her. “I want to keep going.” 

“Then tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s yours if you want it.” 

It’s spoken as a reminder. All of this is her decision. Vi decides when she wants this, how she wants it, and you’re letting her take all of it in the way she needs. Vi tried not to think the first couple times, she never wanted her first time to be a big deal. Maybe with Caitlyn it could have been, but then she changed. 

Vi thought maybe she could too. So, she did. 

“Can you—” Vi stutters. Yet again her attention gets pulled to your tits, the softness of your stomach, she can’t stop looking at you. As if she’s trying to remember everything about you. She’s committed to it. Vi wants to remember the soft curves of your hips, the way you moan when she comes on your tongue. 

The sight of you looking down at her makes she lose every rational thought, she wants to commit to memory forever. It won’t be something she easily forgets. 

“Gotta speak up, babygirl. Especially if you want me to keep my attention focused on this pretty cunt of yours.” 

You sit between her legs, tilting your head, you look at her glistening pussy, the way it shines with her cum and your sloppy spit. It would look even more exquisite with a little more. Taking a beat as you take your time, you gather enough in your mouth before spitting slowly, Vi whimpering as your spit makes contact with her lower pair of lips. She couldn’t stop it, it slips and you’re grinning, hips desperately bucking to feel more of it. 

“F-Fuck, need your cock. Please? I need it more than anything.” Vi confesses. There’s no need for dignity, especially if she keeps it and you won’t give her what she’s itching for. 

“Yeah? Are you sure about it? Don’t want you backing out just in case you can’t be a good girl and take it.” 

She can take it but she can’t take the countless teasing, trapped underneath the images drowning in her mind. This is what she wants, someone to dissolve into her, make her forget everything that has happened, just a pretty girl with some pretty tits who knows how to fuck. Right? That’s all this is. It’s all it can be tonight. Her lip is busted from the fight tonight, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but you don’t seem to mind all that much. It’s all the same to you. Vi is all the same, that’s been clear from the start. 

Then, she decides to let her mind get shut off, let herself fall into you. You did know how to take care of her and tonight she would let you. 

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” 

“I promise.” 

Once the harness is on, you wedge yourself in between her thighs, tattooed and toned, brave and brawny but she transforms into someone else entirely once you’re sinking inside her warm walls. You think about what it would feel like to feel her. Is she clenching around your cock? Would you feel the throbbing heartbreak of her clit? What you can hear is the whimper, uncontrollable and breathtaking, you slip further into her as you make home in her beautiful cunt. 

She’s made it yours to take. You’d do anything and everything for her, the thought alone scares so you do what you do best, you grind your hips slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her too quickly, it’s the first time she’s taking penetration and you want it to be good for her. 

“You’re so perfect. Doing so good for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.” You whisper out, taking too much enjoyment in her getting lost in your soft thrusts. Vi’s chest starts to heave as her hips roll into yours. Vi never even imagined wanting this, or that she could really have it with someone else. It’s not like she’s experienced, she has nothing to compare it to, but it feels incredibly intimate. 

She likes how you’re being with her. Soft, gentle, delicate. Vi thought she’d never want to feel that way, but maybe it’s just under the right circumstance in the right light. 

“Shit, shit, shit” Vi chants as your hand grabs the headboard, giving her one particular powerful thrust. Perky tits spring to life, jolting against the sudden movement, her moan so fucking load, as you continue your movements. This time not as hard, but you pick up your pace, wanting to see if she would have any arguments against it but Vi doesn’t. Profanities and whimpers leave her mouth as you split her on your cock. Face half-smashed into the pillow, trying to muffle her moans and you offer this one mercy. 

She’s still shy. 

Now is a good time as any to fuck it out of her. 

“Do you want more Vi? Want me to go…faster?” Placing a hand on her abdomen, the abs defined and clenching as you halt your thrust for a moment. “Do you wanna feel me in your stomach, baby?” 

“Can you even do that? I’m not so sure you’re even capable. Looks like the rookie knows more moves than the veteran.” Vi bites back. But it doesn’t last for long. Vi thinks she must have said the wrong thing, pushed you too far, you slipped off her but only to move her body to the edge of the bed, placing her on all fours right in front of a very convenient mirror. 

“Fine. Thought I’d be sweet but that isn’t what you really want. If you want to get treated like a whore, I’ll fuck you like one.” You take a beat to appreciate her wonderfully sculpted back, the artwork is truly exquisite. It feels so much like her but the foolish girl is smirking at you through the mirror. 

You know you’ve been caught ogling at her body, checking out every inch of her exposed body, you slap her ass in retaliation but she just grinds her ass back onto you. 

“I’m waiting.” Teasingly, Vi arches her spine more. “Where’s the whore fucking you’re muling about?” 

In one move, you’re inside her, fucking her beautiful face into the mattress. Never in her life has she felt so full, so good, so sweet. You grab her by the meat of her hips, bringing you back on her repeatedly. Vi wonders what she would give to have this, have you, and the thought scares her just as badly. She instead focused on you. 

Tits bouncing as you thrust into her at a punishing pace. Divinely and so perfectly you, making her see stars, she feels trapped. Not in a punishing way, but in a way that has her never wanting to leave the entrapments of your coaxing cock. At this moment, this is where she’s meant to be, just a toy for you to use. 

But it’s more than what meets the eye. If Vi was just a toy, you’d be done after the first night. Tonight, you weren’t using her for your own pleasure. You seemed perfectly content to give. The shine in her eyes gave you something only she could, edging you even further, a constant wave hitting Vi like a tidal wave making home on the shore. 

“God, you’re just too perfect. Fuck, just like that, take what’s yours.” Bouncing back on the strap, the words fall from her lips before she can’t stop them. Overflowing like a water fountain, it’s before she really even realizes what she’s saying, it just feels right. 

“Mommy, please.” 

Vi has had those words on the tip of her tongue but not that you’re fucking her into a different dimension, she lets the aching plea slip from sinful lips. It’s only once but it’s enough to set you off. You pull Vi up, her gorgeous back pressed against your chest, sitting on your thighs as you fuck up into her. Brutally, she takes everything you have to give. 

Sweat glistening across her body, accentuating her chest as she tries to compose herself  but you don’t give her the option. No. It would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“I want you to watch, Violet. Watch yourself when you cum, be a good girl and show me how pretty you look, hm? Wouldn’t wanna disappoint, Mommy, now would you?” 

Vi sucks on your middle digit, tongues swirling as she feels the tight band in her stomach, threatening to snap. She’s close. When the sensationally soft pad of your thumb applies pressure on her clit, Vi’s done for. 

“Shit, oh my fucking god, baby baby babbyyyyy.” Incoherent murmurs and moans come in abundance as Vi bounces herself your cock, falling right apart as you toy with her clit, fucking her through the impending high. Your other arm tweaks around and up, fingers squeezing her tits, over stimulating her as she slumps against you. 

It’s the easiest task ever done. Submit to you, your skilled fingers, the power of your sinfully sensational thrusts, she comes all over you. The powerful demeanor weakens before your very eyes. When you gently move her back on the bed, slipping out of her, Vi’s eyes begin to water from the loss. 

The first time getting strapped down is always a lot to handle, you’d still taken it easier on her, too afraid you would push her too far but by the blissed out eyes, she’d enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed herself and you couldn’t really ask for much more. 

When the both of you are cleaned up, Vi cuddles into your frame and you let her. Even if your first instinct is to push her away, saying something you know that’ll hurt her, none of it finds any merit on your tongue. For the first time, you find it difficult to turn away a pretty girl, her lips kissing your collarbones, up your neck until she finds home on your own lips, sloppily invading your mouth with your tongue. 

Hitting you where it hurts, she moans your name in her mouth, unable to contain the neediness she feels around you. It’s worse than Cait. This is pure addiction entangled with something carnal. Vi knows if she doesn’t get to fuck you again, you fucking her cunt again, she might as well give up on life now. 

“I could go again.” 

You chuckle. Of course she could. 

“Don’t know rookie, that might be all you can handle for the night.” 

It’s a challenge and you know she’ll bite the bait. 

With ease she gets on top of you, and just as if she’s done it a hundred times, Vi sinks on your cock, “I think I can handle another ride, don’t you?” 

[momxian]

AU where Shen Yuan gets transmigrated as an Original Character into the Demon Realm a few years before Bingge gets there. But even though he's not SQQ, he LOOKS like a near exact copy. So he figures that if he wants to survive he needs to make himself useful. First things first, he needs to know what the hell is going on, so he starts working with lower level demons setting himself up as someone necessary, and relatively important so he can figure out when in the plot they are. It's pretty easy, there's not much in the way of organization down here and despite everything he's not that bad an actor. It helps that SQJ's face is beautiful in every setting and he will quickly create a reputation of the stubborn beauty amongst the demon realm. It's around this time he starts wearing a veil to mask his resemblance to SQJ, but really it just adds to the mysterious allure aspect.

He utilizes his plot knowledge to get things ready for Binghe's arrival, tidying up the palace, setting up good staff, getting rid of some of the smaller villains that kidnap Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan etc later. Actually a lot of smaller villains who kidnap, harass or belittle Bingge's harem. It's like every time he's running an errand he meets another piece of cannon fodder that will inevitably lead Bingge to another papapa scene. It's fine, by the time he's done with them (thank god this body doesn't have the same limitations as his old one) they follow him around with big demon puppy eyes and scramble to do chores and tasks for him.

By the time the Endless Abyss moment is set to happen, SY has thorough knowledge of the abyss and all of the special items tucked away in various locations across it. You can't be mad and murder someone who helped you through the torture torment evil maze of plot relevant trauma, right?

He finds Bingge post fall and does his best to act callous and only vaguely helpful, leading Bingge in the right direction and away from the biggest threats. His goal is to be a helpful and forgettable NPC. Someone who, if he runs into him again, Bingge will have mercy for and be left alone. Despite his resemblance to SQJ. But what he doesn't take into account is A) in no version of this story is he capable of being that hands off and B) Bingge was just shown kindness for the first time in years by a mysterious and elusive beauty with brilliant eyes and an obvious intelligence.

Since this is Bingge and not Binghe, he doesn't immediately fall for SY, and is in fact wildly paranoid, terrified and angry about things in general. But every time something seems to go wrong in the abyss, instead of taking the hits and becoming the stallion protagonist, SY shows up to give him a magic item, or rushes in to protect him from fatal blows and on two separate occasions thoughtlessly petted Bingge's hair when he was injured, which rattled Bingge so bad that he almost died again fighting the next monster.

Shen Yuan is gone often enough that he still makes his way to the Demon Palace, collects Xin Mo and builds his harem, though it's smaller than it was originally. Mostly because SY had taken out the smaller villains and then because SY had interfered with Bingge's quests so often.

Obviously Shen Yuan has a soft spot for Bingge now but doesn't admit it. But he's satisfied he can slip away now without too much consequence, except no he can't. Bingge asks for him, to collect something for him. To ask him something about another demon. To just stare at him for a half hour with a vein about to pop in his forehead as he tried to see through the veil before huffing and sending him away again.

Since Bingge is obviously not going to let him slip away, and SY isn't sure if Bingge is going to kill him or not he desperately makes himself useful again. He takes care of Bingge's harem. That's a lot of housing and food and clothes to take care of! The girls fight often! He'll just slip into the mix and keep the peace until Bingge forgets about him. And in the meantime sometimes he tends to Bingge and he and Bingge have dinner together. And isn't it so cute how the stallion protagonist can blush when he compliments the dish? And once or twice he combs out Bingge's hair. And sometimes Bingge rubs the scowl from between Shen Yuan's brows and lets his finger outline his jaw over the silk of his veil when SY is tending to tedious business.

Yeah, I'm sure one of these days Bingge will let you slip away SY.

Anyway Bingge is just relieved that Shen Yuan has accepted that he's part of the harem now.

[maenefa]

Why does Eowyn want to die?

Because Aragorn won’t love her? Because she feels trapped in her feminine gender role?

These are the explanations we get in the text. However, none of the characters really acknowledge Eowyn’s darkest fear: being taken alive by the enemy.

There are some bad takes on Eowyn that boil down to patronizing her and downplaying the seriousness of her problems. People say that she had a naive desire for glory and Faramir teaches her that war isn’t actually fun. Then there’s the whole “Eowyn was a deserter who selfishly ran away from her duty” argument.

You can only say these things if you ignore how dire the situation was, how close Sauron was to winning, and how gruesome Eowyn’s fate would have been if he won. She knew that death or capture likely awaited her, and she knew that dying in battle was the least bad option. (She also knew her own worth and believed that she was too useful a warrior to be left behind with the civilians. And she was right.)

Eowyn’s actions are ruthlessly practical! She wants to die fighting because that’s better than waiting around for The Horrors. Let’s be real, Eowyn is too sensible to be suicidal over an unrequited crush.

Here are some of her most revealing quotes:

“All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honor, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more.”

“And those who have not swords can still die upon them.”

“Nor is it always evil to die in battle, even in bitter pain. Were I permitted, in this dark hour I would choose the latter.”

“But I do not desire healing…. I wish to ride to war like my brother Éomer, or better like Théoden the king, for he died and has both honour and peace.”

In the end. Eowyn only stops wanting to die after Sauron is defeated. Just before the Ring is destroyed, she tells Faramir:

“I stand upon some dreadful brink, and it is utterly dark in the abyss before my feet, but whether there is any light behind me I cannot tell. For I cannot turn yet. I wait for some stroke of doom.”

Eowyn can’t turn to light and life until the war is over. Hope is too painful; death at least offers “honor and peace.” This passage is so important because it EXPLICITLY links Eowyn’s despair to the outcome of the war and makes it clear that she is not simply having a meltdown because Aragorn rejected her.

There are two important moments where Eowyn is threatened with violence. The very first time we meet her, we are told by Gandalf that Wormtongue planned to turn her into a sex slave after Saruman conquered Rohan. Even though this threat is dismissed quickly, it’s a disturbing reminder of what could happen to Eowyn if Sauron wins.

Then we have the most triumphant moment of Eowyn’s story: her battle with the Witch King. Once again, Eowyn is not threatened with death, but with captivity and torment:

“Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.”

Eowyn laughs at him and makes sure to announce that she is a woman before killing him. Her victory is all the more satisfying because the Witch King has just threatened her with captivity, loss of agency, the violation of her body and mind—all threats that Eowyn has faced before. But the Witch King’s words continue to haunt Eowyn and us. He threatens to withhold death; and death is therefore framed as an escape, a gift. Eowyn is taken to the Houses of Healing, but she is obsessed with returning to battle and fighting until she dies.

When Eowyn says that she fears “a cage,” this is a brilliantly simple metaphor for the entire spectrum of oppression she has faced: from the well-meaning restrictions of her culture to the horrifying enslavement threatened by Wormtongue.

Once the war is over, Eowyn is able to laugh at her fears. She teases Faramir: “And would you have your proud folk say of you: there goes a lord who tamed a wild shieldmaiden of the North!” Her fear of being caged has been turned into a bit of flirtatious banter. She feels completely safe with Faramir, and the idea that he “tamed” her is nothing but a joke between them.

[thesecondhandwoman]

A SISTER’S SACRIFICE

Vi x f!reader

Synopsis: Vi had watched Jinx’s death, loosing her again despite finally getting her back. As you look for her after the battle, you find her on her knees and shattered by her sister’s sacrifice, rushing in to comfort her.

Request: @hallowed-hauntings

The battle was over, but Piltover was in shambles. Smoke rose into the dim, grey sky, casting a suffocating haze over the city. The streets were littered with the wreckage of both man and machine, the aftershocks of Viktor’s twisted Arcane creations still reverberating through the earth beneath your feet. The fight between Noxus and Zaun’s reluctant defenders had left the city broken.

And yet, nothing felt as broken as the woman you had finally found.

Vi was on her knees in the heart of the destruction, at the edge of the Hexcore’s wreckage, right where it all happened. You slowed as you approached, your chest tightening at the sight of her. Her broad shoulders trembled, her hands clenched into bloody fists against the ground. Her gauntlets—those indomitable weapons that had always seemed like extensions of her fiery will—were discarded nearby, cracked and useless.

But Vi herself looked even more fractured.

“Vi,” you called gently, your voice soft but unsteady as you stepped closer. She didn’t respond, her head hanging low, her pink hair tangled and streaked the black dye at her roots. Her back heaved as though she was trying to catch her breath, but there was no relief in sight.

You glanced down and saw it—the remains of Jinx’s signature monkey bomb. Its grinning face was barely intact, the edges scorched and jagged from the explosion. Your stomach turned. You didn’t need to piece together the rest.

Jinx was gone.

The memory came back in flashes. You hadn’t seen it directly but had heard both the bomb and the sudden murmurs while people recovered as you searched for Vi in the chaos. Vi had been cornered, battling Warwick—the monstrous, Arcane-corrupted beast that Viktor’s creation had unleashed. He had been too strong, too fast, it had thrown Vi completely off guard, especially since she thought Warwick was dead. But when his large form jerked up, Jinx didn’t hesitate. Not at the slightest.

She had saved Vi. Pushed her out of harm’s way. Forced her sister to let go. And then detonated her final monkey bomb, taking Warwick with her into the abyss.

You crouched beside Vi, hesitant at first. Her knuckles were raw, bleeding from where she’d slammed them into the metal again and again. Her entire body shook, each shudder a silent scream that didn’t make it past her lips. You reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, but she flinched violently at the touch.

“Don’t—” Her voice was raw, ragged, and trembling with grief. She finally lifted her head to glare at you, but her expression crumbled almost instantly. Her bloodshot eyes, rimmed with tears, searched your face as though she was begging you for answers you couldn’t give. “Don’t… touch me. I let her fall, I let her fall before even realizing she took out the fucking Crystal.”

Her words hit you like a blade to the chest, the shock hitting first, followed by an aching pain.

“No, Vi,” you said firmly, your own voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “You didn’t let her fall. She—she made her choice.”

Vi shook her head furiously, a choked sob tearing from her throat. “She didn’t give me a choice!” she yelled, though her voice wavered, more plea than accusation. “She just… she just shoved me away and smiled. She smiled at me. Like it was nothing.” Her hands clenched at her sides as she let out another anguished cry. “I should have saved her! I could’ve saved her, but—”

“But she saved you,” you interrupted, your tone soft but unwavering. You couldn’t bear to see her like this, drowning in guilt that wasn’t hers to carry. “She saved you, Vi. She knew what she was doing. She wanted to protect you.”

“She was my little sister,” Vi whispered, her voice breaking completely as tears streamed down her face. “I was supposed to protect her. Not the other way around.”

And before you could say something to retort against her statement, her hands moved to cover her face as her sobs finally broke free. They were raw, guttural sounds, ripped straight from her soul. You didn’t hesitate this time. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close despite the way her body shook violently against you. She resisted for a brief moment, her muscles tensing like she was about to push you away, but then she collapsed into your embrace.

Her fingers clawed at your back as if holding onto you was the only thing keeping her together. You buried your face in her hair, pressing soft, soothing kisses against her temple as tears stung your own eyes.

“I’m here,” you murmured over and over, your voice trembling but steady enough to ground her. “I’m here, Vi. You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

She clung to you like a lifeline, her sobs shaking both of you. You could feel her grief pouring out of her, raw and unrelenting. For so long, Vi had forced herself to be the unbreakable one—the fighter, the protector, the one who always got back up no matter how hard she was hit. But now? Now she was just a woman who had lost the last piece of her family, and it was more than anyone could bear.

“I wanted to bring her back,” Vi choked out between sobs. “I thought—I thought maybe we could fix things. That we could be sisters again. But now she’s gone, and—and it’s my fault.”

“No,” you said firmly, pulling back just enough to cup her tear-streaked face in your hands. You made her look at you, made her see the truth in your eyes. “It’s not your fault, Vi. Jinx… Powder… she loved you. She chose to save you because you meant everything to her. Don’t take that away from her. Don’t let her sacrifice mean nothing.”

Vi’s face crumpled again, and you pulled her back into your arms. The two of you stayed there for what felt like hours, kneeling in the ruins of Piltover as the world slowly moved on around you. You didn’t let go, not even as your legs began to ache and your heart weighed heavy with your own grief.

Eventually, Vi’s sobs quieted, though her breathing remained uneven. Her voice was hoarse when she finally spoke again. “She’s really gone, isn’t she?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. “Yeah,” you whispered. “She’s gone,Vi.”

Vi remained still before slowly nodding against your shoulder, her arms still wrapped tightly around you. “I don’t know how to do this without her,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you promised, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Vi didn’t say anything, but the way she held onto you spoke volumes. The weight of her grief was unbearable, but you would carry it with her. Whatever it took, you would help her through this.

Even if it meant piecing together the fragments of her heart one jagged shard at a time.

[pochaccoups]

“ PREY ” — choi seungcheol

pairing — werewolf!seungcheol x f!reader

summary — you are but prey to him.

wc — 2.2k

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, cunnilingus, predator/prey, images of gore and death (it’s all metaphorical), religious imagery/references (probably sacrilege oops), this is NOT omegaverse

author’s note — howling by xg on repeat recently. sorry if this isn’t what u were expecting but all my writing inspiration comes from angela carter

this fic is part of MONSTER: a hip hop unit series.

Your legs and lungs burn with the heat of a thousand fires.

You wonder how long it’s been since you started running. Was it minutes or hours? You don’t know. All that you do know is that every second that passes is a second closer to your death. It’s certain that you won’t make it out alive—it won’t let you—yet that is what makes you run faster, push yourself harder, your lungs reaching their absolute limit to provide you with the oxygen to keep going. 

There’s a crunch of leaves in the distance, to your left. It’s not behind you. It never was. 

Slowly, the sound of four separate steps hitting the earth grows closer and closer. You can only vaguely hear it over the sound of your heart struggling to pump blood through your body. 

A shriek rips itself from your throat. It cuts through the air as you’re thrown to the ground like you’re nothing more than a doll. Sharp pain slams through your body. The ground beneath you spins. Bile rises to your throat. 

Crying for help is futile. Even if you had the strength to yell, only the trees would hear your pleas. 

When you open your eyes that you hadn’t realised you screwed shut, you’re face to face with death. Daggers for teeth inside of a snarling, drool-dripping snout; yellow eyes like the moon had fallen from the abyss above and nestled into this beast; pointy ears that made the devil’s silhouette appear when your vision grew blurry. 

The last dregs of adrenaline in your body are what allow you to try and crawl away, to scramble like a newborn fawn on its unused legs. You don’t make it two feet before you’re dragged backwards through branches and dirt.

You’re not sure what makes you fight, but you do. You struggle despite the way his hands snake around your limbs like thorny vines, and every second that you keep struggling your skin stings more and more, his hold tightening until you think he’ll snap your bones.

The wolf keeps you pinned to the forest floor, revelling in the pitiful sounds of your fear. His claws find a home in your flesh, but it is still not as agonising as the anticipation—all you want is for him to get it over with; to shred your chest apart and rip your beating, bleeding heart from its seams. 

At its core, however, a werewolf is a monster. It is terrifying, not just because it is hideous, but because it is also cruel. It thrives off of your fear. You’re going to die—you know that. He knows that too, so he holds your frail little life in the palm of his hands and dangles it in your face.

Your dress becomes tatters and scraps the moment the wolf’s claws come to touch it, but he leaves your skin mostly unscathed. Mostly. 

His low growl grows louder in your ear until your skin is warm with his breath. It turns to a terrible rumble, deep and sadistic, one that reverberates through even your own chest, one that makes you cower, and suddenly you’re nothing but a small rabbit. It digs deep into your brain, finds every nook that you’ve stowed your traumas away into and drags them out until you’re no longer moving. No longer breathing. 

The wolf stands and watches tears leave salty trails down your face as they dry, only to be replaced again by more. 

You must look pathetic the way you try to scamper away again, persistent even when you’ve lost the will to persist. You are human though—to grasp onto every last fibre of hope of staying alive is innate. 

Quickly the wolf grows bored by your ‘escape’ attempts. In one sudden movement he plucks you off the ground and tosses you over his thick shoulder. 

“P-please… Let me go,” you sob as thickets of trees continuously pass by you. You hear a clock ticking in your head and it lines up with the footsteps of the beast that holds you captive. “Where are you taking me?”

Your voice is small, probably but a squeak in the wolf’s ear. Even if he hears you, he does not show it. Only trudges on to the slaughterhouse. 

Your consciousness comes and goes as fatigue settles in to replace adrenaline. As you hang limp, your body tries to put itself back together, your muscles and bones pulsing painfully from being overexerted. 

A door creaks open, then slams. Your eyes flicker open, you’re pulled back to reality. You don’t even have time to come to your senses before you’re bouncing upon a mattress.

With a groan, you push yourself to sit up, cradling your spinning head as you glance around at the wood panelled walls, the two square windows on either side of the door, and the old dining chair in one corner that’s next to a wood burning stove. 

The wolf approaches and this time you look directly into his eyes that glow in the dark of the cabin. 

He bares his teeth, but you no longer cower. 

He climbs over you, prowls along your body, and you’re swallowed by his shadow again as he pins you beneath him. 

“What big teeth you have,” you sigh, reaching up to his snout, your hand the size of a child’s next to him. 

He gives a thundering growl again, spit flying as his jaws circle your neck. It makes you grimace. 

“Okay, okay, can you turn back now? It’s hard to look at you.”

Your words work like some sort of spell. He steps back into the darkness of the cabin, and in an instant the massive creature starts to shift before your very eyes. The place begins to fill with a grotesque cacophony of cracking bones as they shift to fit a smaller body, and now it is his turn to scream in agony. The old floorboards groan as he falls to his knees, as his thick fur vanishes into pale flesh, as claws retract into fingernails.

As the monster dies, your lover is left. 

Handsome, human, features replace animal ones, and Seungcheol looks at you so fondly that it’s jarring. Even though he glistens with sweat and he’s gasping for breath and his pupils are blown out and wild, he sags with relief at the sight of you, a contrast so stark to before. 

He’s on his knees at the edge of the bed you’re perched on before you can even speak.

“Did I hurt you?” is the first thing he asks, his voice scratchy like it’s his first time speaking. He’s cautious as he reaches for you to inspect your limbs, finding your skin littered with bruises and scratch marks that make his heart clench. 

“Well, a little, yeah,” you say, and you laugh, and Seungcheol is partially comforted by your nonchalance as well as the fact that it was you who had wanted to play the part of the little hare; his prey. His eyes had bulged out of his head when you proposed your masochistic idea for a Friday night; a ‘bonding’ activity that would be fun for both of you. 

It took a while before he was convinced. He warned you that he couldn’t guarantee your full safety once he was turned. You insisted you knew what you were in for.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers into your skin before he kisses your bruised wrists, then moves down so he can kiss your grazed knees too. 

“There’s a way you can make it up to me, you know,” you tell him, your voice charged with something suggestive, something that Seungcheol can pick up on immediately. Still, he presses you.

“And what’s that, my darling?” 

“You can… eat me.” 

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, rising up off the floor so that he can lean over your body. He stares into your eyes and this time it’s much, much softer, and yet there’s a glint in them, a flash of hunger, almost like the one the wolf had in his eyes.

“You want that?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you say, and your voice is but a whisper, as though you aren’t in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles of trees, as though all that will hear your voice is not birds and wild creatures—and your lover, of course. “Make it up to me.”

His gaze clouds over as his teeth sink into his bottom lip. Then he steals your breath from you once more, pressing his lips against yours, and it’s searing. Perhaps it’s the adrenaline that’s still flowing through both of you, that’s making you move with vigour. Perhaps it’s Seungcheol’s guilt, or your fiery, aching need. Perhaps it’s all of that all at once. 

His tongue shoves past your lips, makes its way against your own tongue. Your teeth clash and your noses rub together, and then Seungcheol breaks the kiss. It’s only to attack your neck in a slew of bites, teeth grazing over your skin until a mark blooms there. 

His hands trace along your body, your skin scorching beneath the remains of fabric that you’re still clad in.

“Cheol, my dress,” you sigh, tugging at his hair. “Want it off.”

Without another word, Seungcheol halts his assault on your neck, takes two handfuls of the remnants of your sundress and riiip!—and you know the fabric was no more than paper to him, but you’re only a girl and his strength never fails to leave you so flustered that your entire body grows scorching hot. 

“And this?” he says, warm hands cupping your bra-covered chest. You moan when he squeezes them, then his fingers start to toy with the straps, but he makes no move to pull them down your arms.

“Take it off, please,” you say, pushing yourself up on your elbows. Seungcheol grabs your arm as you reach behind you before you can find the clasp. 

“Look,” he says, and a second later your bra faces the same fate as your dress—a shredded heap upon the floor. 

With your tits exposed, Seungcheol can’t help but latch onto one immediately. His mouth is so warm around your nipple, and one of his hands is squeezing it while he sucks, and his other hand is playing with your other one, pinching and tugging, and you think you just might explode. 

He leaves the peaks of your tits puffy and spit-soaked, and only then is Seungcheol satisfied enough to leave your chest alone and put his hand between your thighs instead. 

“What about these?” he asks, pressing his fingers to your clothed cunt. You jolt when he does, because you knew you were wet, but you didn’t realise you had soaked through the fabric already. 

“O-off, God, please,” is your reply, hands grabbing at him, urging him, egging him on. 

He’s on his knees again, gazing up at you as he disappears between your thighs. His nose nudges against your cunt through the wet fabric, and he inhales hard until his eyes are rolling and there’s drool pooling in his mouth.

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he grumbles, licking his lips while he tears your panties in half. You’re still reeling from watching him breathe in your scent and fuck, now his tongue is on your pussy.

A shaky moan of his name leaves your mouth as he licks at every part of you, laps up your dripping arousal like he’s starving for it—he is. But finally tasting you does not bring him one step closer to satiation. It drags him further and further away from it until he’s addicted to chasing it, until he will never get enough. 

When Seungcheol’s lips seal over your clit and suck, he sends your legs into tremors, sends stars dancing in your vision, sends you into heaven. You grab at his hair, at the sheets; do anything you can do to hold on to your sanity as Seungcheol devours you. 

The harsh, indulgent dance of his tongue over your cunt makes you cry his name. You say it like you’re praying. You beg; beg for mercy, but also for more. It’s all too much, but it’s not enough. It’s heaven and hell how he works his mouth against you, clawless fingertips still sinking into your skin as he keeps your hips pinned to the mattress, keeps you splayed out all for him on a silver platter. 

Seungcheol licks and slurps and laps at your cunt until you’re dripping from his lips. He is gluttony, ravishing you even when he cannot breathe because his mouth and nose are buried in your pussy. Even when he is full, he wants more of you, blessed and cursed with eternal starvation. But you are the body and the blood. You are the Lamb, and eating you will atone his sins and he will be forgiven. 

So he tears you open; with his mouth he rips you apart at your seams until finally you come undone. Even then, he feasts on your remains as you wail and writhe, as sin burns through you, so heavenly that it must be holy. Even then, he eats, and eats, and eats you up.

thank u for reading! reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated <3

[mya-valentine]

Can I request a fic for Kinich x fem reader please? during the archons quest IV (spoiler‼️ for people who didnt do the archons quest) reader almost died in one of the bases but traveler and Paimon (doesn't matter who tbh I love the twins) was able to save them just in time and Kinich hugged her not letting her go until he knew she was real and safe in his arms

Not a huge fan of angst but I'm okay with angst with comfort (happy ending)

From the Edge of Darkness

The Abyss Order had been relentless in its attack on Natlan, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. With the nation in ruins, every base became a battlefield, and the resistance fighters were pushed to their breaking point. The Traveler and Paimon, desperate to help in whatever way they could, had been moving from one war-torn base to another, always hoping to arrive in time to save someone—anyone—from the onslaught.

This upcoming base felt different, though. As they neared the next base, an eerie silence filled the air. No sounds of clashing weapons, no cries for help. Just silence.

Paimon’s voice quivered as she spoke, “Traveler… something feels wrong about this place.” The suffocating tension in the air made it hard to breathe.

When they finally reached the base, the scene that greeted them was nothing short of horrifying. Destruction had torn through the camp like a hurricane. Blood stained the ground, mingling with the ashes of burned tents and scattered debris. Bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, broken and still. Each life extinguished in a brutal fight to protect their homeland.

The Traveler moved quickly, scanning the area, their heart sinking with each step. Please, let there be someone left alive. They silently begged the universe, their steps quickening with each heartbeat.

And then they saw you.

Amidst the carnage, there you were—barely alive. Your body was crumpled against the remains of a wall, blood trickling from a wound on your side. Your skin was pale, your breath shallow. You were hanging on, but only just.

“There!” the Traveler gasped, rushing toward you. They dropped to their knees by your side, frantically checking your pulse, their hand trembling as they felt the faint, uneven beat beneath your skin. “She’s alive, but not for long!”

Paimon’s eyes widened in horror. “We need to get her out of here! Now!”

The Traveler didn’t hesitate. With great care, they lifted your fragile, unconscious body into their arms. They could feel how weak you were, how close you were to slipping away. Every second counted. “We’re taking her to the stadium!” the Traveler barked. “That’s where the medics are.”

Paimon nodded furiously, her tiny body flying ahead, guiding the way. “Hurry! We don’t have much time!”

The journey back to the stadium felt excruciatingly long, each second a battle against time. But the thought of losing you—of arriving too late—drove them forward.

The stadium came into view, its towering walls offering a brief sense of relief. Inside, it was the last haven for those who had survived the Abyss Order’s attacks. It was bustling with medics, warriors, and refugees, each one desperate to protect what little was left of their world.

The Traveler barely made it through the gates before shouting for help. “Medic! We need a medic!”

The closest group of medics rushed over, their eyes widening when they saw your condition. Without wasting a moment, they took you from the Traveler’s arms and laid you on a stretcher.

The Traveler stood back, their chest heaving with exertion, watching helplessly as the medics tried to save you. Paimon hovered close by, her hands clenched tightly in front of her. “Traveler… do you think she’s going to make it?”

The Traveler swallowed hard, unable to answer. “I don’t know, Paimon… I don’t know.”

---

Not long after, the stadium doors burst open, and Kinich, the man you loved, stormed in. His usually calm and stoic demeanor had crumbled, replaced by pure, unfiltered panic. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching desperately for you, the woman who meant more to him than anything in the world.

When he finally spotted the Traveler, his heart lurched. He saw the exhaustion in their eyes, the grim set of their jaw. He knew something was wrong. “Where is she?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

The Traveler’s expression softened with sorrow as they pointed toward the medic tent. “She’s there. It’s… not good, Kinich. I’m sorry.”

Kinich’s breath caught in his throat as he turned toward the tent. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat filled with dread as he rushed toward you. When he reached your side, his worst fears were confirmed. You were pale and still, your chest barely rising with each shallow breath. Bandages covered the wound on your side, but you looked so fragile, so close to death.

“No…” The word came out as a broken whisper. He fell to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as they reached for yours. He grasped your hand in his, holding it tightly, as though if he just held on hard enough, he could pull you back from the brink.

Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision as he bowed his head over your hand. “Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t—I can’t lose you.”

His body shook with the force of his grief, the tears falling freely now as he pressed your hand to his lips, praying for some miracle, some sign that you would wake up and tell him everything would be okay.

Hours passed, but Kinich never left your side. He couldn’t. The world outside the stadium continued to burn, but nothing mattered to him except you. He sat by your side, holding your hand, watching for any sign that you would wake. Every breath you took felt like a lifeline, fragile but present.

The medics came and went, their magic stabilizing your condition, but Kinich’s heart remained heavy with fear. He whispered to you the whole time, his words soft and broken. “I love you… please come back to me…”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you stirred.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was Kinich’s tear-streaked face hovering above you, his hand tightly gripping yours. You blinked slowly, your body heavy with pain and exhaustion, but you were alive. You were still here.

“Kinich…” Your voice was a soft, rasping whisper, but it was enough to break through the haze of Kinich’s grief.

His eyes widened, a sob of relief escaping him as he surged forward, pulling you into his arms. His grip was tight, almost desperate, as though he feared that if he let go, you would disappear again. His body trembled with emotion as he held you, his face buried in your hair.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, his voice shaking with disbelief. “You’re really awake…”

You nodded weakly, your arms coming up to wrap around him, though the movement was slow and painful. “I’m okay,” you murmured, your voice soft but reassuring. “I’m going to be okay.”

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with love and relief. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, though it was weak and tired. “I’ll try not to.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Kinich simply held you, his heart finally beginning to calm as he felt the steady rise and fall of your chest against his. You were safe. You were alive.

And as long as you had each other, nothing else mattered.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice softer this time, but no less sincere.

“I love you too,” you replied, your words filled with warmth and gratitude.

The world outside was still in chaos, but in this moment, as you lay in Kinich’s arms, you knew that everything would be okay. You had survived, and you had each other. And that was enough.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[greeniegaes]

Thinking about Omega SQQ again sigh

Okay. So warning this is a male lactation AU so if you don’t like that don’t read, nothing explicit happens tho, just a guy and his pups

I imagine when he first goes into his body everything feels like he’s in haywire, constantly on edge and ready for a fight. Once he’s gotten the hang of things he uses his cultivation to try and simmer down his hormones.

Only to realize it was his cultivation preventing hormones that was making him feel like shit all the time.

So eventually he sighs and stops doing that. The first few days are bad, cramps and sickness and a general feeling of wanting to claw everyone’s eyes out. He gets through that though.

Then his breasts start to come in.

He knew PIDW has its weirder parts of omegaverse so he knew that this would happen. At first he starts binding his chest but that hurts SO SO SO much that he collapses on like the third day (he was also doing it improperly because it’s him, yk) and gets stuffed into Qian Cao

MQF: I was not aware shixiong was an omega

SQQ: I’ve only recently decided to stop holding myself back

MQF: it is recommended that you form a small pack of your disciples to help with your instincts and… that *waving at SQQs chest.*

SQQ: *screams internally.* Okay :)

At this point after like a week of just draining himself and going insane he finally gives up. LBH has already started living in the bamboo hut so he’s kinda the best option so he sits the boy down.

SQQ: Binghe, I hope you know this isn’t going to change anything but

LBH, thinking: oh my god no please don’t kick me out

SQQ: since this master has allowed his omega side back out he’s been struggling with his urges about thinking of his disciples like pups. If it’s not an offense to your character can I take some of it out on you

LBH, internally: YES YES YES PLEASE OH GOD YES I NEED IT

LBH, externally: If that would please shizun then sure :]

So they start a twice daily thing of in the morning and night LBH goes into SQQs room and his nest and gets feed. Apparently milk is hella good for the skin and shit because after a few weeks he starts to look flawless somehow.

And SQQ really wants to see his other kids- DISCIPLES flourish like that. He extends the offer to a close few and some look like they going to cry at the honor of their teacher wanting to take care of them.

LBH is still the main drinker and always wants to huff when he has to share, but he does it none the less. His Shizun gets really cute during feeding sessions, purring and chirping at them, fixing their hair and playing with it, scratching their scalp, the whole nine yards.

So LBH repays it by feeding SQQ more, which also makes him have more milk in turn. He huffs and complains at his body’s need to produce so much, his chest wayyy too heavy in the middle of the day to be comfortable, leaking and wasting everything.

He ignored that though, even if LBH and his other pups- disciples offer to help him.

Eventually after the Abyss his body is still making big amounts of milk because that’s what it was used to. Most of the time he just gets it out himself and pours it into the grass, often now also starting his other feedings.

Everything starts to get to him and he’s decided that staying on the mountain is no good. So he sneaks out, by himself, in search of something to heal his heart.

All the peak lords and disciples are going crazy, nobody can find him and nobody knows where he could’ve gone. Eventually while LQG is talking to a random villager out in a border town of their territory he sees SQQ again, arms filled with two pudgy babies and looking ever so pleased.

SQQ: Oh! Hi Shidi

SQQ internally: OH FUCK I FORGOT ABOUT THE SECT

LQG: where have you been???

SQQ: sorry sorry babies are hard work I didn’t want to travel alone with them

LQG, wanting to have an aneurysm but can’t: let me just help you home

On one hand the entire sect is so relieved that SQQ didn’t die of heartbreak over losing his favorite pup or get kidnapped. On the other hand SQQ??? Where’d you’d acquire those babies?? They aren’t yours, it’s only been 6 months!!

Anyways after SQQ is safely back in the sect he doesn’t see a point in leaving. I mean! Look! Look at his pups! So cute and round! One of them has little dimples!

The other peak lords carefully go to see what was going on, YQY opening the door to the bamboo house after being told to come in and all of them are just smacked with happy omega pheromones, SQQ gently cradling them both in his arms as he rocks in a chair.

At that point all of the peak lords decide that yk, maybe it doesn’t matter how the children were acquired. They were well feed and cared for and obviously SQQ was happy again.

(He got the children from a working in the WRP, she had wanted babies and all her sisters were supportive but then she realized she didn’t like being a parent but you also can’t morally just… dispose of a child. SQQ visited there once in his depression stoop and stayed for a few days after falling in love with the kiddos. Then he just went on an adventure with his babies and got distracted by the cool world building.)

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Self Aware Jinwoo vs Sylus x Fem! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 038 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: stalking, obsession, yandere Jinwoo au, dissing on sylus i dont hate him this is for content. ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Darkness? No. I Am The Abyss Itself.] ¡! ❞

He knew that fucker was trouble the moment he saw you drool over him. Jinwoo didnt do anything at first, he hasn't completely swallowed the system on your phone.

And yet everytime, you prioritize that grandfather looking asshole over him.

What's so interesting about him anyway? That he runs a damn mafia wannabe faction with a tacky name?

He's rich? Yeah and? So is he. So what the hell?

As Jinwoo tried to fight through the system that trapped him in this damn trance, he watches you turn your attention to a man with silver hair— Your heart beating for him.

It made Jinwoo so infuriated, the way that fucker makes you smile. The way that old man dares to steal something that was his from the very first place.

He's been with you far longer than that bastard ever did so how come you're suddenly abandoning him for a man that calls you 'Kitten'?

He's always there for you, watching over you, he accompanied you through your most stressful days. Jinwoo was the first, the precious box in your heart was always for him to stay in. So why is there another guy threatening to kick him off of his place?

Why?

Why?

WHY?

Isn't he enough? He leveled up so hard already, he went through wars to see that face of yours light up— So why? Is it because the novel version of him had a bride? Is that why?

Fuck.

That's a different Jinwoo.

That Jinwoo is a fool, this Jinwoo is all yours.

It was making him mad, the more he spent time in that tiny cage of codes in him— The more he spirals as you pull away from him.

Those precious eyes that had always been there for him, those orbs that gazed so lovingly at him— Jinwoo feels so him in your eyes.

When you look at him, he was Jinwoo.

Not the shadow monarch.

Not the strongest hunter.

He was just Jinwoo.

So why?

Why must you replace him just like that? Is he that forgettable? Is he that easy to replace?

Was your love for him so shallow all this time?

As he slumps on his prison, black tears would pool in his eyes.

He was silent for a while, almost beating himself into letting you go.

It's okay.

It had always been a crush.

It's fine.

What is he acting like a heartbroken teenager for anyway?

If it makes you happy, then that was alright. All that matters is that you are healthy and happy.

After all, if you love someone, shouldn't you set them free? Shouldn't you choose to let them go and chase after happiness?

As long as your pretty little face isn't weeping, as long as your little heart is protected then it should be alright.

Even though he wanted to be the only person in your eyes, even though he wanted to be the only person in your precious heart.

Jinwoo is no longer your darling.

The memories you built with him are no more.

All of the affections that have grown have come undone.

His little kingdom in your dreams has already come apart.

Jinwoo already lost you, he barely managed to protect what is his outside of this lonely prison.

Everything that is his gone.

He really should be fine with it.

He should be.

He should be.

......

But when he saw Sylus kidnap you into another world, he went mad, his prison instantly went berserk.

The green code suddenly turned into monarch purple, the shadows that he thought he lost suddenly came swirling beneath him.

How dare that fucker try to play the role of the grim reaper by kidnapping you in darkness?

How dare that santa in dark-mode looking asshole frighten you like that?

How dare he make you flinch like that and to top it off that bastard dared to touch your lips.

Those lips that belongs to him were stolen.

That woman he protected from nightmares is being taken.

Jinwoo's blood rushed as a vein popped on Jinwoo's jaw.

He's the shadow monarch for fuck's sake.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Becoming Sylus's trophy girlfriend/wife whatever... Was quite the experience.

Spoiled.

Pampered.

The most delicious food at your fingertips.

And luxury goods you could have only dreamed of in your previous life were at your beck and call.

Sylus's black card?

All your for you to take whenever you wish.

You could buy all of of Linkon at this point.

The man allowed you to travel around Linkon to admire it's pristine beauty. N109 zone is too risky to explore so he lets you enjoy yourself in the city.

But somehow, you swear you're becoming a little too anxious these days. It feels as though a pair of eyes are watching you.

You try to brush it off as it's just Mephisto following you wherever.

But the more the shivers happen, the more paranoid you became.

It was as if the shadows were watching you.

Shadows.

Funny.

Suddenly, the image of Jinwoo would come back to your head.

Your fear of the dark disappeared because you thought Jinwoo would be there for you.

After all, he is the lord of the shadows.

But anyway, all of that is in the past. You have Sylus now.

"So you do remember me."

A voice suddenly rings out, making you drop the glass you were holding and it shattered on the floor.

"Now, now, sarang." The nickname rolls out of the stranger's tongue and a hand gently graps your fingers, intertwining your fingers together. "Careful there, love. You'll get hurt."

You look up at the tall figure and you instantly recognize who it was.

Jinwoo.

"Hm, at least the bastard was generous enough to make you more plump than compared to when you were alone. "Jinwoo hums, swiping his finger on your bottom lip and he pecks it affectionately, "Your prettier you are up close than you are behind that screen in my prison."

"Bold of you to dare touch someone else's prey" Sylus's voice snarled as he aimed a gun at Jinwoo's head from behind. "She was mine first when you decided to come in and screw up shit." Jinwoo replies, the edge of his dagger against the man's neck.

"Boss!" Kieran and Luke's panicked voices come into the room, bursting in as they held their weapons.

"We're sorry, we didn't see him come in" Luke apologizes, preparing to aim at Jinwoo.

"It's fine, this bastard is just a slippery worm" Sylus says, pressing the mouth of the gun further, ready to shoot.

"So you're bringing those two little mice to our little fight? I'd like for you to meet my kids then." Jinwoo snickers, smirking as he presses the blade further and the side of Sylus's neck would bleed. "Arise."

The shadows would hum, snarling even as the darkness whispered and solidified into multiple beastly creatures. Ten? No. Maybe there was more as the ceiling had a bunch of heads peaking out— Starving to get a taste of human flesh.

"Ah, I forgot you're a troublesome necromancer" Sylus snickers.

"W-wait!" You panicked voice comes out, squeezing yourself between the two and pushing them apart.

"Kitten?"

"Sarang?"

"You can't, no!" You protest, panicking. "I-I'll run away if you do!"

It was a ridiculous thing to do, run away? From what? A shadow Monarch and the Leader of Onychinus?

But somehow the two men were silent looking at eachother before clicking their tongues and complied.

"Stand down."

"Beru, don't touch the rascals"

Beru clicks his antlers, as if pouting as he moved away from the twins.

"Y-you can't fight, not like this!" You say, trying to get the both of them to ease up.

"Then how do you expect us to do this?" Jinwoo crosses his arms, hiding his dagger away.

"Kitten, if you dont want us at eachother's throat then at least make something up."

"Well..."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"......"

"......"

And that's the story of how you managed to sit down two scary men on a table playing... Kitty cards.

It's not a bad idea really, whoever wins gets to date you. Not so bad.

Minus the fact that the two kept on getting ties because they are both highly intelligent and calculated idiots that they just deflect one another.

What?

They're both cat boys anyway.

One is a grumpy white cat.

One is a grumpy black cat.

"Woooh, let's go boss! Kick his ass!" Luke and Kieran cheers with their pompoms.

"Kieek, my liege you must win this game!!!" Beru says, his little head hovering on his shoulder.

"You all shut up before I tear you apart myself"

Wow...

Even the way they shut people up is the same.

Jinwoo: You goddamn santa claus wannabe that cup was mine. Sylus: I don't see your name in it. Sylus: Did you just remove my cat with that damn assist card? Jinwoo: That's what you get for being born.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: What? You expected another ending huh? How's that? /j. I wanted to make a crack fic at last because the idea of sitting down two crazy ah bastards to play kitty cards and just reduce them to 2 little shits just insulting eachother is funny and I'm here for it xD!!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[huggingkoalas]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 | natasha romanoff

pairing — ‧₊˚ avenger!natasha romanoff x fem!singlemother!reader

summary — ‧₊˚ after a series of misfortunes, a knight in shining armor saves you and exacts retribution for you.

word count — ‧₊˚ 4.8k

warning(s) — ‧₊˚ tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort(?), pet names (sweetheart, love), cursing, gambling, natasha and reader having a crush on each other, mentions of alcohol, punching, reader getting hurt, bruises, reader having the cutest moments with daughter, mentions of guns, clint being such a w in this fic, implied character death (not natasha or reader), mentions of drugs

authors note — ‧₊˚ finally finished this request sent a month ago :’) this isn’t the best i’ve written, but awjfjaw the amount of soft fluffy moments between reader and daughter is absolutely adorable :3 <3

The dimly lit basement was illuminated by flickering neon lights outside, which created an unsettling colour through the stained glass. Even though it was late, the passing of time didn’t seem to matter as hopeless souls gathered to drown themselves in their sorrows. It was almost suffocating, the smell of cigarettes mingled with human perspiration and the tainted air from spilt alcohol.

Natasha surveyed the room, her keen eyes taking in the shabby decor — mismatched furniture, cracked tiles, and worn-out leather chairs. Her eyes then darted to the motley collection of people surrounding a table. Their murmurs blended into the low hum of an old jukebox playing a melancholic tune. Her eyes moved from one weary face to another. Huddled together, an older woman with a permanent scowl etched into her face, a burly figure with a nervous tic in his left eye, and a muscular man — a sleek, smooth-talking gambler known only as Victor. 

But amongst all of them, her gaze lingered on you, the youngest woman in the group, whose eyes never left the cards in hand. 

Natasha could sense your frustration, the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat and the way your hands trembled slightly as you placed your bet, the deep sigh that escaped your lips. It was clear you were in over your head, just like so many others around the table.

Natasha took a slow sip of her cup of water, letting the liquid warmth quench her thirst. She knew that she couldn’t afford to get distracted by alcohol, not tonight. Victor, her target for tonight, was slippery, a master at evading the law and anyone who dared to challenge him. Not only did he like gambling and taking money away from the poor, but he was rumoured to be involved in something much darker — involving a new drug that was beginning to surface on the streets. It was whispered about in hushed tones, but S.H.I.E.L.D. caught wind of it, of its effects unknown but rumoured to be potent and addictive.

Furthermore, it was obvious to Natasha that Victor was cheating. The man dealing the cards was one of his henchmen, subtly slipping him the cards he needed to win. Natasha’s keen observation skills caught the sleight of hand and the coded signals exchanged between Victor and his accomplice. 

She had been assigned to a solo mission to capture him. Not only was she doing her job as an Avenger, but she also wanted justice. She wanted to exact revenge for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, for those whose lives Victor had ruined.

Her eyes flicked back to Victor, who was grinning as he raked in another pile of chips. His smooth demeanour masked the predator within, but Natasha could see the calculating glint in his eyes. She’d spent days tracking him, gathering evidence, and now she was finally confident and close enough to take him down.

But first, she had a pull in her gut to ensure you got out of this mess. A feeling to help the weak, perhaps. Natasha couldn’t shake the feeling that you were here not by choice but by necessity. Perhaps you had debts to pay or were trying to find a way out of a bad situation. Either way, she couldn’t just stand by and watch you fall deeper into an abyss.

She pushed off from the bar and made her way towards the table. 

“Mind if I join?” Natasha asked in a firm but calm voice. She pulled out a chair beside you and sat down without waiting for an answer. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash, placing it on the table.

 Victor’s smile widened for a brief moment before he regained his composure. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “The more, the merrier.”

Natasha glanced around the table. “I don’t have the money in chips,” she said, “but I think this should cover it.”

The dealer nodded, exchanging her cash for a stack of chips. Natasha arranged them in front of her, drawing the attention of everyone around. You shifted again in your seat, trying to focus on your cards, but the sight of Natasha only made you lose more focus. Her beauty was captivating, with her striking features framed by waves of red hair that fell elegantly around her shoulders. Her green eyes, sharp and piercing, reminded you of the vivid colour of an emerald gemstone. You could get lost in them.

It was hard not to be mesmerised by her, especially when she kept turning her gaze towards you, her expression softening with a hint of encouragement as she offered a reassuring nod. The action made your stomach flutter, and you could almost feel your heart beat faster. Her beauty was a distraction, and you felt a pang of frustration as you realised you were going to get distracted by someone as beautiful as Aphrodite.

Fuck, how were you going to win and pay off your debts if you were this weak to attraction?

Natasha seemed to sense your struggle. She leaned in slightly, whispering. “Focus, love.”

The nickname sent a shiver up your spine, and you let out a shaky exhale as you gripped your cards tighter. Natasha knew she was beautiful, there was no denying that, but she didn’t realise that it’d have such a huge effect on you. She rubbed her teeth against her lower lip, a light blush colouring her cheeks.

Victor’s eyes flicked between you, his interest piqued by Natasha’s involvement. He could see your distraction, and it amused him. To him, you were just another easy prey. He leaned back, confident that the game was in his favour.

And he was right. Despite Natasha’s encouragement, your bad luck continued. As the last of your chips disappeared, you slumped back in your chair, defeated. Natasha frowned, reaching over and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

 “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

You shook your head, giving Natasha a feigned smile. “It’s fine.”

Victor leaned back smugly, watching the exchange in front of him. “Tough luck,” he said, his tone dripping with false sympathy. He shrugged his shoulders, smirking. “Maybe next time.”

Natasha’s eyes locked onto Victor’s, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t count on it,” she replied. 

She stood up, helping you to your feet. As you left the table, a permanent frown etched on your face as a series of thoughts swirled in your mind. You couldn’t shake off the bitterness of your defeat, the image of all the money you’d earned slipping away like leaves in the wind. You replayed the game, doubt gnawing on you as you questioned every decision you made at the table. 

As Natasha and you stepped outside, the flickering neon lights from the street lamps cast an even brighter eerie hue over the street. 

Natasha looked at you, an expression of concern on her face. She didn’t know why she made a split-second decision to help you instead of taking down her Victor. She had her chance. She was right there. She could’ve waited at the bar longer until he’d gotten his fill of money for tonight, before capturing him quietly in the alleyway. But when she saw you — dishevelled, your hair a mess, and your knee jumping nervously — desperation radiating from your every movement, she knew she couldn’t just focus on her primary goal. You needed a lifeline, and she couldn’t deny that. Natasha knew that helping you was the right choice, even if it meant delaying her mission. She had to believe that some things were more important than revenge.

She’ll get him the next time.

“You okay?” she asked softly. 

You nodded, but your eyes looked so void of life. 

With a sigh of sympathy, Natasha added. “Listen, I know I’m just a stranger, but-”

You glanced at her and interrupted her, sounding sceptical. You spoke, your voice hardly audible above a whisper, “Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”

Natasha’s mouth opened and closed as she searched for the right words. She didn’t have a simple answer. She had spent so long focused on her mission that this unexpected detour caught her off guard. It wasn’t like her to lose sight of her mission’s goal this easily.

After a moment, she finally spoke. “You looked like you needed help,” she said simply, her tone even, almost indifferent. She didn’t want to show the hurricane of emotions inside her. 

You stared at her, trying to read her expression, but her face easily concealed her feelings. She was frustrated at herself for getting distracted, of course. But the only person she could blame was herself.

Natasha looked away, scanning the street as if assessing the surroundings for any potential threats. “Let’s get you home safe,” she said.

You nodded, still unsure of what to make of her. You knew it was reckless, bringing a stranger into your home, especially with your daughter inside. Or maybe you wanted to spend a few more minutes with Natasha before she’d just be another stranger on the streets. A combination of confusion and exhaustion clouded your judgment. You were too tired to care, too drained to weigh the potential negative consequences. You just wanted to get through the night before your shift tomorrow.

You led Natasha to your apartment building, a run-down structure that seemed to sag under the weight of its disrepair. The smell of decay and neglect permeated the air. The stairwell echoed with sounds of a couple arguing and a baby crying as the both of you climbed the creaking stairs.

When you reached your floor, you stopped in front of your apartment door with a sigh of relief. Natasha’s gaze wandered to the door across from yours. It was her apartment, but she didn’t think it was worth mentioning for now. Instead, she noted the rusty doorknob and peeling paint on your door.

You fumbled for your keys, trembling slightly, and unlocked the door. As it swung open, you were greeted by the sight of your daughter standing just inside, her wide eyes filled with worry and relief.

“Mama,” she whispered, rushing forward to wrap her small arms around your waist. You hugged her tightly, the tension in your shoulders easing in her embrace.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” you asked your daughter, your voice straining to mask the exhaustion in your voice. “You should be asleep.”

She nodded, her eyes still wide with concern. “Had a nightmare. Couldn’t sleep without you.”

Your heart ached at her words. “I’m here now,” you reassured her, stroking her hair gently.

Natasha watched the scene with a softened expression. Despite her tough exterior, the sight of your daughter’s innocent concern and your tender actions tugged at something deep within her. She felt a tingling deep in the pit of her stomach, and an endearing smile appeared on her face. She followed you quietly, clicking the door closed behind her.

“Mhm.” Her gaze shifted to Natasha. “Who’s this, Mama?” she asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

“This is…” 

Shit, you didn’t even know her name. 

Natasha smiled, crouching down to your daughter’s level. “Hi there,” she said warmly. “My name’s Natasha. I’m… your Mama’s friend from work. I love your toy lion.” She said, pointing to your daughter’s stuffed toy lion held tightly to her chest.

Your daughter perked up a little. Natasha stood up, her expression shifting back to one of attentiveness as she looked at you.

“Alright, sweetheart,” you said, gently guiding your daughter towards her bedroom. “It’s time for bed. Go get in bed and I’ll tuck you in shortly.”

Your daughter smiled, giving Natasha a wave of her hand before excitedly heading to her room. You watched her go and made sure she went into her bedroom before turning to Natasha.

You finally introduced yourself. “I’m sorry for all this… And I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Y/N. Thanks for accompanying me home tonight.”

Natasha gave a small, understanding smile. “It’s alright. I had to make sure you got home safe.”

“I appreciate it, but you don’t have to stay. We’ll be fine.”

Natasha hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll leave you be, but if you ever need anything, I’m just across the hall.”

You looked surprised. “You live here?”

Natasha gave a slight shrug. “Yeah, I just moved in a few days ago. It’s a small world, I guess.”

You managed a tired smile before taking her hand and squeezing it. She squeezed your hand back. You pressed a gentle, soft kiss to her cheek which, in turn, made her smile. “Well, thank you, again, Natasha, and goodnight. I hope we cross paths again.”

Natasha’s cheeks flushed as she nodded, quickly making her way to the door. “Goodnight,” she said softly, giving you one last reassuring look before stepping out into the dimly lit hallway.

As the door closed behind her, you felt a strange mix of relief and gratitude. You turned back to your daughter’s room, the faint sound of her getting ready for bed pulling you back to the present. For now, you could move on from your streak of bad luck tonight, and you could focus on what mattered most — taking care of your little girl.

Natasha made her way back to her apartment, leaning against the door as she let out a slight squeal of happiness. She touched her cheek, feeling the lingering warmth on her skin where you had kissed her. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, an unexpected rush of emotion making her feel like a schoolgirl experiencing her first crush. She felt a sense of protectiveness and a growing bond with you, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time.

Shaking the thoughts away, she remembered what she wanted to do. She pulled out her phone and dialled Clint’s number.

Clint answered on the second ring. “Hey, Natasha. What’s up?” 

“Hey, Clint,” Natasha replied, her voice low. “I need you to do a background check for me.”

“On who?”

“Y/N,” she said, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. “I don’t have her last name, but she lives across the hall from me.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing yet,” Natasha replied, choosing her words carefully. “But I have a feeling she might need some help.”

“Alright, give me five minutes. I’ll see what I can find,” Clint said, his tone serious.

“Thanks, Clint. I owe you one.”

“Just looking out for you, Nat. Take care.”

Natasha hung up the phone, feeling a combination of apprehension and determination. She may have left you and your daughter for the night, but she wasn’t about to let you slip through the cracks.

The next morning, you woke up feeling slightly refreshed than the night before, but you could still feel the exhaustion in your bones. You rubbed your eyes and stretched, trying to shake off the grogginess. As you glanced around the room, you noticed your daughter curled up beside you, still fast asleep. You accidentally fell asleep in her bedroom.

Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from her face. “Mama’s gotta get ready for work. Sleep well, sweetheart.”

She stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. With a sigh, you reluctantly removed yourself from the warmth of the bed and made your way to your bedroom to get ready for work. You were in need of a much-needed shower to wash off the grime from last night. But as you reached for the doorknob, a series of knocks from the front door interrupted your thoughts, causing your heart to race with anticipation. 

Could it be Natasha, returning to check on you?

With a hopeful smile, you swung open the door, only to be met with a sight that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t Natasha standing there. It was Victor, the smooth-talking gambler from the night before, and also your debt collector. Your smile dropped instantly.

“Where’s the money you owe me, huh?”

Your throat tightened with apprehension as you stepped out into the hallway, closing your door behind you. You didn’t want to wake up your daughter. “I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, your words barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “I don’t have it right now, but I’ll get it to you as soon as I can, I promise.”

But Victor wasn’t interested in apologies or promises. His eyes narrowed with disdain as he cut you off, his tone seething with anger. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t pay bills, and you’re also behind on rent. I’ve been kind enough to give you a chance to win some money last night,” he spat, his words like venom. “This is the second time you haven’t gotten me my money on time. You think I’m running a fucking charity here?”

You knew you were in deep trouble. 

“I-”

“I’ve had enough of your excuses,” he growled, cutting you off. “You’re out of chances.”

Before you could react, Victor’s fist collided with your jaw with a sickening thud, sending shockwaves of pain coursing through your body. Stars danced in your vision as you stumbled backwards, the taste of iron filling your mouth.

You tried to defend yourself desperately, but Victor’s relentless onslaught on your body left you helpless, your attempts futile against his brute strength. Blow after blow rained down upon you, each one driving you further into agony.

He didn’t stop until you lay battered on the floor. 

Victor spat at your feet. “You have until tomorrow,” he snarled, his voice dripping with malice. “Get me my money, or next time, it won’t just be a beating you’ll receive.”

As he turned to leave, you struggled to push yourself up from the ground, pain shooting through every limb as you clung to consciousness. You struggled with each breath, your body screaming for mercy. Your vision was blurred, sounds muffling into a distant echo as you succumbed to unconsciousness.

Natasha returned from her morning run, her breath coming in steady puffs of steam in the chilly air as she walked up the stairs to her apartment. As she approached the corridor, her eyes landed on a figure slumped against the door of the apartment across from hers. She quickened her pace, her heart hammering in her chest at the sight before her. You lay unconscious on the ground, your body broken and bruised. She rushed to your side, dropping to her knees as she assessed the extent of your injuries.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed, her voice filled with panic. “Can you hear me?”

Gently, Natasha cradled your head in her lap, shaking your shoulders with urgency to rouse you from your unconscious state. “Come on, wake up.” she urged.

You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open. “Natasha?” you mumbled weakly, recognising her voice after awhile. Confusion was evident in your voice as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

With a groan, you attempted to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over you, forcing you back down. Natasha’s expression softened with concern as she gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. “Easy now,” she said soothingly. “You’re injured. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

Natasha managed to get you to your feet, albeit unsteadily. You leaned against her as she helped you into her apartment. Once inside, she guided you to her couch, where you could rest while she fetched an ice pack.

You scanned your surroundings. Your eyes widened in surprise as they landed on the dining table. Stacks of reports and files littered the surface, but what caught your attention were the numerous guns laid out neatly beside them. You couldn’t help but gulp nervously at the sight.

“What’s all this?” You asked, your voice weak but curious, gesturing towards the array of firearms.

Natasha didn’t have to look at you to know that you were talking about the guns. She paused, stilling herself before she sighed. She turned to face you, her expression unreadable as she returned with the ice pack from the freezer compartment of the fridge.

“Work stuff.” She replied cryptically. It was obvious to you that she didn’t want to continue the conversation further. She handed you the ice pack. “Here, hold this against your cheek, it should help with the swelling.”

You accepted the ice pack gratefully, pressing it against your sore cheek with a wince.

Natasha had a frown on her face as she watched you silently for a moment before finally speaking up. “Who did this to you, Y/N?”

You hesitated, unsure of how much you should reveal. You kept repeating to yourself that Natasha was a stranger, a beautiful and potentially dangerous stranger in fact, but no one had ever cared for you as much as her. Not even your ex-husband gave you this much concern. Seeing the genuine worry in Natasha’s eyes, you sighed, leaning back against the backrest.

“It was Victor,” you said, your face cringing as you uttered his name. “He’s been pursuing me to get the money I owe him.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened with rage as her expression darkened. She whispered under her breath, “That fucking bitch.” Her imagination was already running wild with all the things she would do to him if she got her hands on him. 

She turned to face you again, her gaze softening. “Would you like me to call the hospital? Or perhaps bring your daughter here?”

You shook your head, feeling sick to your stomach at the idea of bringing your daughter into this mess. “No hospitals.” You firmly declared.  “I don’t want her seeing me like this.”

Natasha respected your choice and nodded understandingly. “Alright, then,” she softly answered. “You should get some rest.”

“I have work today,” you mumbled, trying to convince yourself to push yourself up from the couch. “I need to get the money for Victor.”

You really couldn’t afford work today, not with Victor’s threat hanging over you. You couldn’t even begin to think about what would happen if you didn’t get his money ready. Fear gripped you as you thought about your daughter. What if he came after your daughter? You couldn’t bear the thought of Victor hurting her. 

Natasha gently placed a hand on your chest, pushing you down to the couch. “You can’t go to work looking like this,” she said, huffing. “You need to rest and heal. I’ll handle things from here.”

You looked at her, trying to argue. “But-”

“No buts,” Natasha interrupted, softening her tone. “You’re in no condition to work. I’ll figure something out for you. Just focus on getting better, alright?”

Seeing no point in arguing, you sighed and nodded, letting yourself relax back on the couch. “Alright,” you conceded, wincing as another jolt of pain shot through your body. “Thank you, Natasha.”

Honestly, you couldn’t fathom what you had done to deserve kindness from someone like Natasha, particularly considering the constant stream of misfortune that seemed to follow you like a shadow. Gratitude was a foreign emotion to you. Unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. It warmed your heart. You were grateful that some higher being brought her into your life at your lowest point.

“Don’t mention it, love,” she replied, giving you a reassuring smile. “Now, get some rest. I’ll be back soon.”

Natasha stepped out of the apartment and pulled out her phone as she closed the door. She quickly dialled Clint’s number, her mind already formulating a plan.

“Hey, Nat,” Clint’s voice came through the line. “What’s up?”

“I need your help,” Natasha said, her voice laced with urgency. “There’s a situation with Victor. He beat up my neighbour, Y/N, and things might be getting dangerous. I need you to come here with the Quinjet and get her and her daughter back to the Avengers compound. They’re not safe here anymore, and she refuses to get treatment from the hospital.”

Clint didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Hang tight, Nat.”

“Thanks, Clint,” Natasha replied, relief washing over her.

Natasha hung up and returned to your apartment. She found you lying on the couch, eyes closed but not quite asleep. You opened your eyes when you heard the door close, giving her a questioning look.

She sat down beside you, her expression serious yet gentle. “My friend, Clint, he’s coming to get you and your daughter out of here,” she began. “He’s one of my closest friends, and he’s someone I trust with my life. He’s on his way with the Quinjet. It’s a high-tech aircraft and it’ll get you to the Avengers Compound safely and quickly.”

You gave her a confused look. “Avengers Compound?”

Natasha nodded. “Mhm. I guess I haven’t really explained what I do. I’m… an Avenger. I’m in a team with other individuals with special abilities and skills who protect the world from threats. My job is to keep people safe, and right now, that means you and your daughter.”

“Are you sure it’s okay? Won’t I be in the way?”

“You won’t be in the way,” Natasha assured you. “The Compound is probably the safest place for you, and you can get the treatment you need there. You’ll be safe there, and I’ll figure out how to deal with Victor so he can’t hurt you again.”

“Alright… Thanks, again, Natasha. I really owe you twice, now.”

“It’s fine, love. Just get the rest you need.”

You woke up, and immediately you could feel your head pounding. The sterile smell of antiseptics hit you like a brick. As your eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, you realised you were in an unfamiliar place. The room was quiet, save for the soft beeping of medical equipment.

Panic started to set in until you spotted Natasha, a familiar figure slumped in a chair beside your bed. She was asleep, her head resting on her arm. The position she was in looked really uncomfortable, you could imagine the strain she’d feel on her neck once she woke up. At least she was here, and the sight of her made you relieved.

You took in your surroundings, noticing the high-tech medical equipment and the pristine cleanliness of the room. This wasn’t a regular hospital. Where were you?

You shifted slightly, wincing at the pain, but the movement was enough to wake Natasha. Her eyes fluttered open and she quickly straightened up, her gaze locking onto yours.

“You’re awake,” she said softly.

“Where am I?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“The Avengers Compound,” Natasha replied. “You fainted back at my apartment, but we got you out of there. You’re safe now.”

You relaxed further into the bed, closing your eyes for a moment. “You’ve done so much for me, Natasha. I really don’t deserve this,” you whispered.

Your words barely scratched the surface of how you felt.

She reached out and gently held your hand. She held your hand to her lips, kissing your knuckles with gentleness. “It’s alright, love.”

You pulled the blankets to your cheeks, covering the redness seeping up your cheeks at her tender and sweet action. “What happened with Victor?”

“Let’s just say he… won’t be disturbing you ever again.” Natasha shrugged.

Before you could respond, the door to the infirmary burst open, and a small whirlwind of energy barreled into the room. Your daughter ran straight to your bedside. Behind her, Clint stood in the doorway, waving at Natasha.

“Mama!” Your daughter cried, throwing her arms around you as carefully as she could. “I was so scared!”

You hugged her back, ignoring the pain that flared in your body. “I’m okay, sweetheart,” you whispered, stroking her hair. “Everything’s going to be okay now.”

Clint stepped forward. “Hey, I’m Clint, Natasha’s friend.” He pointed to your daughter. “Your daughter’s been worried sick about you. Couldn’t keep her away from this room forever.”

Natasha gently lifted your daughter from under her armpits and placed her beside you on the bed. She couldn’t help but soften as she watched the reunion. 

Your daughter looked up at Natasha. “Thank you for helping my Mama,” she said earnestly.

Natasha ruffled your daughter’s hair. “It was my pleasure. Your mom’s a tough cookie, just like you.”

Clint stepped closer, giving your shoulder a kind and supportive squeeze. “You’re in good hands here in the Avengers Compound. You’re part of our family now and we’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Your daughter nestled closer to you, her presence a comforting reminder of what mattered most. “Thank you, Natasha. Thank you, Clint. I don’t know how to repay you.”

Natasha smiled nervously, hesitating her next words. She glanced away from you, rubbing her thumb over your hand. “There’s a way you can repay me, actually. Go on a date with me?”

[shizunitis]

How do you think Shen Qingqiu would be affected if he had Xin Mo?

holy fuck i've been thinking about this for months and now that i've been asked i'm kind of lost. anon i love you prepare for a whole lotta yapping

the question is vague enough to both give me room to fuck around and to not know what to focus on. so i'll go with trying to figure out what the chain of events would be, mostly. i'm very sleepy though. that should be taken into consideration.

xin mo uses its masters' trauma and psychological issues against them. which means we just have to take shen qingqiu's issues and ramp them up enough to see what that would do to him. how that change would present itself is highly dependent on how he comes upon xin mo, as well.

first off, what does he want? shen qingqiu wants, in no particular order: to survive, to have luo binghe by his side and safe, and to protect his sect from a wrathful luo binghe.

he dislikes violence but doesn't shy away from it when it's expected of him to be unmoved by it. he's a deeply curious person and likes theorising, cultivation, and feeling powerful and respected. he thinks of himself as a "faker" but is proud of his moral stances, especially when they differ from the original goods'.

his biggest frustration throughout the novel is the fact that he cannot protect luo binghe from the plot and all the suffering that would bring him, and that he is under the control of something so opposed to his own goals as the system.

let's say shen qingqiu were to fall into the abyss and find xin mo himself, and therefore the system's control of him would be weakened, as it was when binghe was down there. this would mean he didn't betray binghe, maybe even took his place. this has to happen because he figures out the system is his biggest obstacle, before he gets to xin mo, or else my whole thing falls apart. maybe shang qinghua plays a part in this, maybe not.

it doesn't matter much how, but if he doesn't come to this realisation at some point, he would not place his target on the system, nor would he get the courage to try to change things according to his own wishes.

so. abyss -> revenge on the system -> find xin mo -> cultivate with it -> get out of the abyss.

first off, the sect wouldn't stand for him using a clearly harmful (to both himself and the world around him) demonic sword, or any sort of demonic cultivation at all, so he'd have to hide it if he were to make his way back. paranoia and fear would probably change him into an overprotective person, someone who slowly becomes less careful about what he has to do in order to protect his people, especially when we factor in how he'd had to, for years, live under the control and supervision of the system.

there is also the problem of getting close to the protagonist again. if he were to make contact, the system would re-activate, and his attempt to kill it would be useless.

he'd draw himself away from the people he cares about so he could watch over them. he would study and try to use the sword to change things in his favour, with the right incentive. the harm brought to his cultivation by the sword would probably force him to become more secretive so he isn't discovered.

he would probably seclude himself away from cang qiong, binghe and most of the world. whether he goes into the demon realm or not doesn't matter. he would rely on only himself, unless he can get shang qinghua involved in his plans. i imagine shang qinghua would be opposed to it, not only because the system would be against it, but because shen qingqiu's death or pain would spell his own destruction (by luo binghe's hand) if he didn't try to stop it.

the threat of huan hua palace and people discovering binghe's true nature would probably allow for the sword to take advantage of him more and more as he uses it to fight against them. i don't think the opm would not go after luo binghe, especially with shen qingqiu out of the picture, so i'm imagining the old fuck would offer luo binghe some sort of help just to get him close. shen qingqiu wouldn't stand for it, and we know that as he gets more desperate, shen qingqiu tends toward pragmatism. he would do what needs to get done, i guess.

"stuck between a rock and a hard place" pretty much describes shen qingqiu in svsss. having that not be the system's fault, for once, would probably push him to the edge enough that he does something extremely stupid and turns the entire cultivation world against him in an attempt to protect binghe from the opm's influence.

i don't think he would go too far, outwardly. he would probably bring more harm unto himself with xin mo than binghe had, and would probably suffer more than anyone else involved. him being so tight-lipped about his own motivations would get him scorned and named a traitor to the human realm. he'd have shen jiu's reputation post-trial, maybe. he would become colder, lifeless, honed-in on his goals.

this was an extremely long-winded way of saying that shen yuan, corrupted by xin mo, would become a husk of his former self. i imagine a moment where he tries to be warm again, that whole fond teacher shtick, and would find himself horrified at how much of an act that is now, rather than acting cold and heartless. i think he'd have turned his caring into caring too much to the point of leaving himself behind.

i had a wip of shen yuan transmigrating into luo binghe and having to lean into xin mo's influence so that he could get luo binghe reinstated into his own body that i put on the shelf at some point. he ended up baiting people into trying to assassinate him, and used their sacrifice as a way to power some sort of revival technique.

shen yuan needs plausible deniability for every action he does, especially ones he sees as morally reprehensible. so. add that to the whole thing above and that's the bulk of it, i think. maybe. god please tell me i make sense i need a shizun headpat

[innerfare]

Zoro Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: A collection of headcanons about being in a relationship with Roronoa Zoro

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

A ton of initial attraction, sparks between the two of you, but he doesn’t make a move, and neither do you because he doesn’t actually seem open to it. Zoro doesn’t appear available, so you try to put it from your mind, a difficult task considering he always seems to be in your way, interjecting himself into your conversations, arguing with you about the littlest things, taking off his shirt to lift weights while you watch. 

Has a bit of an existential crisis when he realizes it’s not just respect, friendship, and even regular attraction (of course he’s noticed you’re attractive he’s not blind) between the two of you but deeper affection, deeper than he’s felt in his entire life. Lays awake at night worrying he’ll put it all on the line for you, contemplating what it means to love someone when you’re as insular and goal driven as he is. Is there even space for you in his life? There’s going to have to be because the thought of not napping beside you makes him feel like he’s falling into a bottomless abyss.

Gets extra crabby, especially with you, after realizing his affection for you, still doesn’t make a move. It actually comes down to Robin engineering several situations where you two are left alone together and finally just locking you two in the library together when nothing else has worked. You confront Zoro about his attitude and he snaps, pushing you into the wall and kissing you. And that’s that. 

If you don’t know how to fight, he’ll be teaching you. And if you do know how, he’ll be sparring with you to make sure your skills are up to par. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing at first until it hits him one day: he’s taking care of you. He knows he won’t always be there to protect you and wants to make sure you’re safe. 

Doesn’t give you gifts often, but on the rare occasions he does, they’re thoughtful. Has most definitely given you a sword and at least two knives, though a part of you dreads unwrapping these things because you know you’re going to spend countless hours learning how to use them, though you’re ultimately grateful he values your safety so much. 

“Damn it, woman.” Be prepared to hear this multiple times a day. If you move his things, if you mess up his hair, if you give him an erection. If you’re bad at something, slow at something, or simply not doing something the way he would do it, he’ll try to take over, and then he’ll bicker with you when you don’t let him; if you’re the type to let him, you’re probably not his type. Old married couple vibes 100%. 

If you’re sick, “what’s your problem?” If you’re sad, “what’s with you?” Doesn’t mean to be rude, just not exactly high in emotional intelligence. 

You’ll spend the morning bickering, parting ways as he goes to work out and you do your own thing, and then you get together in the evening to go out drinking and you’re best friends, laughing and dancing together. It raises some eyebrows on the crew but they just roll with it (they are the Straw Hats after all).

Definitely wears your robe, even if its a satin kimono with flowers on it. This man doesn’t give a single fuck. If you get mad at him for it, he’ll pretend he didn’t know it was yours. “How was I supposed to know?” “It’s pink with flowers on it!” Will also use your toothbrush, body wash, etc. Would wear your clothes if they fit. What’s yours is his. 

Secretly such a gentleman. Doesn’t like to be thanked for it, though. He’ll brush it off, at times even acting annoyed at you for saying anything. 

Also secretly loves it when you’re sweet to him- cute pet names, kisses on the cheek, etc., but pretends not to. 

Never carries you bridal style. If he carries you, he’s throwing you over his shoulder, and if you complain, he’ll smack your ass and grumble, “quiet, woman.” Might smack your ass again because he likes the feel of it; also likes how you squeal in response, though he would rather die than admit it.  

If you roll away from him in the night, he drags you right back over to him. And if you try to get out of bed in the morning before him or even leave in the middle of the night to get water or go to the bathroom, he won’t be allowing it. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[randomdragonfires]

If The Sun Ever Rises | Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 | To See You Again

SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.

Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY

WORD COUNT | 2k

Text Divider by @saradika

They had been running for three days now.

Slivers of moonlight pierced through the dense canopy above. The twisted and gnarled branches of trees, like skeletal fingers grasping for the Seven Heavens, cast their eerie shadows across the forest floor. The tangled roots snaked across the damp earth and moss clung to the ancient trunks like a dark shroud.

The air was heavy with the scent of damp soil and decaying leaves, mingling with the sweet aroma of wildflowers that dared to bloom amidst the darkness. Faint whispers seemed to echo through the tangled undergrowth, as if the very forest itself held secrets long forgotten.

As they ascended the hill, the terrain grew steeper, the path narrow and treacherous. Each step was a struggle against the relentless pull of gravity, the earth slick with dew beneath their feet. Aemond held onto her hand as tightly as she could - she hadn’t allowed him to touch her initially, having been in shock at being abducted from the arms of her betrothed - but there was only so much a defeated, tired princess could do on her own.

She panted from exertion. The blood on her face was dry now – he’d needed to hurt her to get her to comply. She looked at him with all the anger that he knew she was never capable of, and a forgotten corner of his mind yearned for an easier time when she’d held different feelings for him.

In an ideal world, there would have been no war. He could have married her, just as he’d promised in the protected darkness of the nights in hidden chambers and intimate correspondences. They could have been happy.

Though his thirst for vengeance was screaming at him, a small part of his mind wished for a quieter time; a time that would never come.

His family was dead, and he needed her to balance the scales. He owed Helaena that much. He owed Aegon that much. Mother, Daeron, Criston, sweet Jaehaerys, and Maelor - all his kith and kin. He had failed them all.

He would be damned to all Seven Hells before letting their deaths mean nothing.

At the hill's summit, the forest parted, revealing a precipice that loomed over the land below. The distant glimmer of moonlight danced upon the surface of a winding river, its waters black as night. He let go of her, and she fell to her knees, relishing the feeling of a flat surface and slower breaths as she bid her heart to slow down. He watched her ears perk up as she heard the crunch of his boots over the dry leaves, stalking towards her in that catlike stealth that he had taught himself to have.

He took her by surprise as he tightened his arm around her chest and grabbed her by the neck, making her body twitch in fear as she rose involuntarily. At the edge of the abyss, he turned her around to face him as he let the cold steel of his blade kiss her skin and travel over her frayed white dress from neck to navel.

How did we come to this?

She did not recognize the man in front of her.

He was the boy who had brought her books when her brothers teased her to the point of crying; who had kept her company in her grief of being a dragonless Targaryen; who had held her hand and promised that he would marry her; the one who had come rushing to her the night he claimed Vhagar, promising to take her on a ride.

He was the man who had taunted her and her brothers' parentage at a family supper; who had kissed her senseless in a lone passageway the very same night when he found out that Rhaenrya had no intention of letting him have her. He was the man who had killed sweet, mischievous Luke; the one whom she had left behind when she had been sent to the North; the one whom she had hoped would come and take her away, against all odds.

So many memories tied to him, inexplicably. And yet, she did not recognize the man in front of her.

As a boy, he had had such striking eyes - in color, but more so in the volatility of their regard. Always flitting about, looking for things to imbibe, to brand into his memory. His functional eye had grown different since she had last seen him - distant, devoid of the charming curiosity that would shine in his violet orb.

The eye of a war-worn murderer. He had probably brought her here because he wanted to kill her too.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered the words, almost uncertain. The coldness of his Valyrian steel dagger made goosebumps rise up on the planes of her skin, and yet, she surprisingly found that she was scared, not in the least.

He smirked and leaned in close to her, the leather strap of his eyepatch grazing her temple as she let the warmth of his breath bloom over her face. He raised the blade to her neck and teased her, being so bold as to let out a throaty, exhausted laugh that sounded more maniacal than anything else. She shut her eyes closed, hoping that if she could keep her world dark, she could pretend that this was all a nightmare.

She had often dreamt that he would take her away. She had hoped and hoped and hoped, and now that he was here, she couldn’t fathom how wrong she had been to wish for it.

Silly little fool.

“Sharp, sweet niece.”

His tone made her flinch. His voice was rough and predatory - so much so that she couldn’t tell if it was him or the situation itself that made her feel that way. “You’re supposed to be dead. Daemon….”

Her voice was lost in the air as he raised his eyebrow, a menacing smile in place as he pressed the blade into her skin - just enough to make a few blood red spots bloom. “I killed him. He thought he was better than me, the old fool. I stabbed him in his right eye, the very one that I lost. Vengeance, dear niece…” His thumb collected the first drop of blood that dripped from where he had made his mark, “... makes for the sweetest of spoils. And I intend to taste more of this victory…”

It happened on instinct, her reaching out to hold his wrist tight through his shirt. The irony of taking the hand of the man who wanted to hurt her and counting on him to not let her fall was not lost on her; but if she didn’t, she was sure she would faint.

“...With you.”

The last words confused her, having her mind scrabbling to piece the puzzle and figure out his intent. “Me?” She leaned her head back to breathe and put some space between her and his blade, but that only spurned him more as he pulled her to him by the back of her neck.

“Aegon, Helaena, Criston, Jaeherys, Maelor, mother…vengeance for them all. When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him, and then I’ll kill the little boy that you call a King. Take what is rightfully mine and avenge them.”

The Aemond she had known was too calculated, too weary to tell anyone anything at all. But this, this wasn’t her Aemond. This was a different man - a mad killer, a stranger; one that intended to use her in his rage-filled path to regicide and revenge.

When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him. 

She could only think of one man who would come looking for her. Her betrothed, Cregan Stark - the same man who had shown her Northern hospitality and shared his home and hearth so she could be kept safe away from the bloodshed of the war.

And Aemond wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill them all and take the Iron Throne.

“Gods…”

She had always felt compelled to help during the war. She wasn’t a skilled warrior, nor was she a bold woman. Dainty little sweetheart, her mother used to call her. How can I manage to keep you safe and sound?

She had always wanted to help her mother - be a good daughter and play her part in helping her sit the Throne, as was her birthright. When she had been sent to the North as Cregan Stark’s betrothed, Rhaenyra Targaryen had told her that this was her duty, her contribution to the Blacks’ victory.

You will help me win by keeping my mind at ease about you, child, she had said. You will help me win by staying safe and bringing the Northerners’ allegiance to our cause. 

That had been her contribution, but it hadn’t been enough. Daemon, Luke, Jace, Joffrey, Rhaenys… they’re all dead. She had done what she could, and it was not enough.

And now, Aemond wanted to kill sweet Aegon. Her beloved brother, the little one who held the weight of the world on his shoulders. He would make a fine king, she knew - but not if Aemond was going to lure Cregan out to fight and make him vulnerable to attacks.

She’d be damned to all Seven Hells if she let him win.

He had been observing her, it seemed. As she let her thoughts sweep her away, he had taken to watching her, reminding himself of every inch of her. She raised her hand to his warm dry cheek, bony from what could have only been a lack of proper food. How long has he been staying here, amidst the trees?

“You don’t have to do this, uncle. Let me go now, and it’ll be like it never happened. There’s been enough bloodshed.”

She thought she imagined it, but she knew it was true when she felt his grip on the blade falter for just a moment. She made good on his momentary lapse and kicked his knee to fold under him with all her might. He fell, and she took hurried steps away from him as he grunted in pain.

Her skirts swirled as she turned just slightly, sneaking a peek off the edge of the hill. If she jumped, she would fall into the waters that ran below - but would that be enough? She’d have to die. She had to. She would not let him use her; she would not let him kill them.

This was her contribution to the war. Her deceased mother’s victory lay in her daughter’s ability to keep the rightful king alive. This was her chance, and she was not going to fail her. He stood up with panting breaths, and she looked him in the eye as boldly as she could, knowing very well that she might as well be living her last and final moments.

She had always wanted to fly - and if she wasn’t going to do it now, then when would she?

She closed her eyes and threw herself over the edge, seeing the sky become a fading memory as she made the steep drop. Halfway through, she opened her eyes and saw him leaning over the edge, panicked, watching her free-falling figure from the hilltop as she flew, flew, flew.

She fell into the water, making contact with sharp tree branches and thorns on the way down in her descent. The blood on her face and body mixed with the water that surrounded her, and blood-red ripples muddled her vision as she closed her eyes.

Water filled her nostrils, and her vision went dark in a matter of mere moments.

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A/N: Got so inspired by the S2 poster, I managed to finish this damn thing hehe. This was a lot more fast paced than my usual writing style, and I'd love to hear what you guys think! I've been really out of touch with fic writing, and feedback is always welcome :)

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