#I've also missed a few of my favorite characters

[amethystarachnid]

Hello. I’d like to request a Loki x Fem!Reader. Not sure if you’ve seen Step Up 3 but the song Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan was played and basically in the scene the two love interests did a tango (I would look it up for reference 🩷). So maybe Loki and Reader are on an undercover mission and they get tied into a tango. You can interpret it however you want but I’ve had this ask stuck in my head for a while now. Hope you like this! 🩷🩷

BOUND BY DUTY

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, flirty

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: Loki has been called form the S.H.I.E.L.D. to help the Avengers with an anomaly that's happening around the world and you're assigned to be his handler. You were told to not trust him but what if under that mask of indifference there's a man just wishing to be loved?

ᯓ★ Word count: 9.7k

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just a few hated kisses and flirty comments

ᯓ★ I haven't seen the movie but I've seen the scene on YouTube (like just the 3 minutes ? scene) and really hop you'll like the story

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound feels heavier than usual. It could be the weight of the mission ahead or the fact that the one person who might hold the answers is a literal god—a god of mischief, no less. You’ve been briefed on Loki’s recent exploits, his failed conquest of Earth, and his punishment in Asgard’s dungeons. You know better than to trust him, but you also know that sometimes the devil you know is preferable to the devil you don’t.

Nick Fury has chosen you, of all people, to act as Loki’s handler. You don’t know whether to feel honored or utterly cursed. He claims it’s because of your “unflinching professionalism” and “ability to handle high-pressure situations.” You suspect it’s because most of your colleagues would rather face a firing squad than deal with Loki’s silver tongue.

The sound of the jet door opening draws your attention. You straighten your back and smooth your jacket as two Asgardian guards march down the ramp, their armor gleaming even under the dim hangar lights. Between them walks Loki, his wrists bound in glowing cuffs that hum faintly with suppressed power. He’s wearing his usual dark green attire, though the horned helmet is missing. Without it, his raven-black hair tumbles around his face, framing sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. His piercing blue eyes sweep the room, landing on you.

You can feel his gaze like a physical weight, appraising you. He smirks. Of course, he smirks.

“Agent,” Fury’s voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you slightly. “Take him to interrogation. The guards will brief you on his restraints.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, your voice calm and steady despite the flutter in your chest.

The Asgardian guards exchange a few words with you about Loki’s bindings. They warn you not to let your guard down—ever. You assure them you won’t, though you’re starting to realize that resisting Loki’s words might be a different kind of challenge altogether.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing for Loki to follow you. He arches an eyebrow but complies, falling into step beside you. The guards trail behind at a respectful distance.

The walk to the interrogation room is uncomfortably silent. You’re hyper-aware of Loki’s presence beside you, his tall frame moving with a predatory grace. He doesn’t look like someone who’s been imprisoned for months; he looks like he owns the place, and you’re just a guest in his domain.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. Of course, he does.

“Tell me, Agent,” he begins, his voice smooth and lilting, “do they often send mortals to babysit gods, or am I a special case?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, determined not to rise to the bait. “I’m here to make sure you don’t cause any trouble. Think of me as your parole officer.”

He chuckles softly, the sound almost pleasant if you didn’t know better. “And if I were to misbehave, what then? Will you scold me? Perhaps send me to my room without supper?”

His words drip with mockery, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—amusement, maybe even intrigue. You keep your expression neutral. “If you misbehave, you’ll find out just how creative S.H.I.E.L.D. can be when it comes to disciplinary measures.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmurs, and you feel a shiver crawl up your spine at the way his eyes linger on you. You remind yourself that this is what Loki does: he gets under people’s skin, twists their emotions until they don’t know which way is up. You won’t let him succeed.

The interrogation room is as stark and clinical as you’d expect. A metal table and two chairs sit under the harsh glow of fluorescent lights. Loki looks around with mild disdain as if the room itself offends his sensibilities.

“This is where you intend to question me?” he asks, his tone dripping with derision. “How... quaint.”

You motion for him to sit. He doesn’t move immediately, instead watching you with that infuriating smirk. Finally, he lowers himself into the chair with the air of someone granting you a great favor.

The guards secure his bindings to the table before stepping back. You nod at them, and they leave, the door clicking shut behind them. Now it’s just you and Loki. You take the seat across from him, pulling out a tablet with your notes.

“We have reason to believe you have information about a recent incident involving extraterrestrial technology,” you say, your voice steady. “S.H.I.E.L.D. recovered several devices that match the energy signature of the Tesseract. We need to know where they came from.”

Loki leans back in his chair, the chains on his wrists clinking softly. “Ah, the Tesseract. Such a fascinating little trinket. Tell me, Agent, do you often meddle in matters beyond your comprehension?”

“This isn’t about me,” you reply coolly. “It’s about you. And what you know.”

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And what do I gain from sharing this knowledge? A lighter sentence? A pat on the head? Somehow, I doubt your superiors are feeling particularly charitable toward me.”

“We’re not asking for charity. We’re asking for cooperation. Help us, and we might consider negotiating with Asgard on your behalf.”

Loki’s laughter fills the room, sharp and cold. “Negotiate with Asgard? Oh, how delightfully naive. Do you honestly believe Odin would entertain such an offer? He’d sooner banish me to the farthest reaches of the cosmos than indulge your mortal whims.”

You suppress a sigh, already feeling the weight of this conversation. But then Loki leans forward, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Still,” he says, his voice softer now, almost teasing, “I might be persuaded to cooperate. After all, it would be such a shame to disappoint you.”

There it is again—that deliberate charm, the way he threads his words with just enough sincerity to make you second-guess yourself. You fold your arms, meeting his gaze head-on.

“You don’t intimidate me, Loki.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to intimidate you,” he says, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “Merely... entertain you. Is that not the proper term for what mortals call ‘flirting’?”

Your stomach flips, but you keep your expression neutral. “If this is your idea of flirting, I’m not impressed.”

“Hmm,” he muses, leaning back again. “Perhaps I’ve spent too long among Asgardians. We have a certain... flair for tradition. Shall I compose you a sonnet instead? Or perhaps challenge another suitor to a duel in your honor?”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You quickly school your features, but not before Loki notices. His smirk widens.

“There it is,” he says, his tone triumphant. “A crack in the armor. I knew you weren’t entirely immune to my charms.”

You roll your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you tap a few notes into your tablet, focusing on the task at hand.

“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” you say firmly. “Where did the devices come from?”

Loki sighs dramatically, as if the question bores him. “You mortals are so dreadfully predictable. Always demanding answers, yet never willing to pay the price for them.”

“What’s the price?”

He tilts his head, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Your name.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“Your name, Agent,” he repeats, enunciating the words slowly, as if you’re a particularly dense student. “You see, it’s rather difficult to have a proper conversation when I must refer to you as simply ‘Agent.’ It’s so... impersonal.”

You hesitate. It’s not a particularly sensitive piece of information, but giving him your name feels like handing him a weapon. Still, you decide it’s a small concession if it means making progress.

“Y/N,” you say finally. “My name is Y/N.”

Loki’s smile softens, though it’s no less dangerous. “A beautiful name for a beautiful mortal. Tell me, Y/N, do all agents possess your... charm, or are you truly one of a kind?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you reply, though your cheeks warm slightly at the compliment. You hope the harsh lighting hides it.

“Ah, but it’s not flattery if it’s true,” he counters smoothly. “And if I may say so, you wear skepticism rather well. It suits you.”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to laugh. Loki’s flirtations are relentless, but you can’t let them distract you. You refocus on the task, determined to get the answers you need.

But as the interrogation continues, one thing becomes clear: working with Loki is going to be anything but straightforward.

The quinjet ride to Avengers Tower is suffocating in its silence. Loki sits across from you, his long legs stretched out casually as if he owns the entire aircraft. His wrists remain bound, the faint glow of the Asgardian cuffs serving as a reminder of his diminished power. But that doesn’t stop him from exuding arrogance with every calculated shift of his posture.

“Is this where I’m supposed to tremble?” he muses, his voice cutting through the quiet. “The great Avengers Tower, lair of the mighty heroes who so thoroughly bested me.” His smirk deepens. “How quaint.”

You’re seated across from him, tablet in hand, pretending to review your notes. But Loki’s presence is impossible to ignore, his every word curling around you like smoke.

“Maybe don’t insult the people who’ll be watching your every move,” you say, not looking up. “They’re already not thrilled about this arrangement.”

He tilts his head, watching you with something between amusement and curiosity. “And you, Y/N? Are you thrilled?”

“I’m doing my job.”

“Oh, but your job now entails keeping me under control, does it not?” His voice lowers, playful and conspiratorial. “Tell me, how does it feel to hold the leash of a god?”

You glance up, meeting his eyes without flinching. “It feels like babysitting a particularly arrogant toddler.”

His laughter rings out, rich and genuine, surprising you. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard. But then his expression shifts back to its usual smugness, and you realize he’s thoroughly enjoying this verbal sparring.

When the quinjet lands on the rooftop pad of Avengers Tower, you rise, gesturing for Loki to follow. He does, the clinking of his cuffs echoing as he steps out into the open air. The city sprawls out below, glittering in the early evening light, but Loki barely spares it a glance. His focus remains on the tower itself, his smirk growing as he takes in the structure.

“Ah, Stark’s playground,” he says. “I trust the man himself is waiting inside, ready to deliver a string of tiresome quips?”

“Something like that,” you reply, leading him toward the elevator.

As the doors slide open, Loki steps inside with the air of a man entering his throne room. You press the button for the common floor, bracing yourself for the chaos that’s about to unfold.

The doors slide open to reveal the Avengers lounging in the common area. Tony Stark is leaning against the bar, a drink in hand, while Natasha Romanoff sharpens a knife at the table. Steve Rogers stands near the window, arms crossed, his jaw tight. Bruce Banner hovers awkwardly in the background, glancing up as you and Loki step in.

“Look who’s here!” Tony’s voice cuts through the tension, dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Reindeer Games himself. I thought Asgard had a no-returns policy.”

Loki’s lips curl into a predatory smile. “Ah, Stark. Still compensating for something, I see.”

“Alright, let’s not,” you interject quickly, stepping between them. “Loki’s here to help us, not pick a fight.”

“Help us?” Steve’s voice is cold, his gaze sharp as it settles on Loki. “That’s a generous interpretation.”

“It’s true,” you reply, keeping your tone firm. “We’ve encountered tech with energy signatures similar to the Tesseract. Loki’s the only one who might have answers.”

“Because trusting the guy who tried to enslave the planet worked out so well the first time,” Tony quips, raising his glass.

Loki chuckles softly. “It’s heartwarming to see how fondly you remember me.”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably in the corner, his eyes darting between Loki and the others. You don’t miss the tension in his posture, the way his hands twitch as if ready to retreat at a moment’s notice. Loki notices too, and for the first time since his arrival, a flicker of unease crosses his face. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

“I see the beast is still lurking,” Loki says, his voice quieter now, though the edge remains. “Tell me, Dr. Banner, does he hunger for revenge?”

Bruce flinches, his face pale. “I—I’d rather not...”

“Enough,” you cut in sharply, fixing Loki with a glare. “You’re here to cooperate, remember?”

Loki raises his hands as far as the cuffs allow, feigning innocence. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten the good doctor.”

Bruce mutters something under his breath and retreats further into the room. You make a mental note to keep an eye on both him and Loki; their shared tension feels like a powder keg waiting to ignite.

After the initial round of barbs, you manage to get Loki settled in a secure room. It’s more comfortable than the dungeons of Asgard but still far from luxurious—bare walls, a simple bed, and a reinforced door with biometric locks.

“Charming,” Loki says, surveying his new accommodations. “I feel right at home.”

“Good,” you reply, leaning against the doorframe. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. If you step out of line, even once, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He steps closer, just enough to invade your space without crossing a line. His voice drops to a low purr. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t doubt your ability to... discipline me. In fact, I almost look forward to it.”

Your cheeks flush despite yourself, but you hold your ground. “Get some rest. We’ll debrief tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave, you hear his voice again, softer this time. “Y/N?”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. He’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place—curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper.

“Why do you trust them with me?” he asks. “Your precious Avengers. Do you truly believe they can keep me in line?”

You meet his gaze, your own unwavering. “I don’t trust them to keep you in line. That’s my job.”

His smirk returns, but there’s something almost genuine beneath it. “Indeed, it is.”

The following day, the team gathers in the briefing room. Loki is seated at the far end of the table, his wrists still bound, though his demeanor remains as smug as ever. A holographic projection displays images of the recovered devices, their design sleek and alien.

“These were found in an abandoned Hydra facility,” you explain, gesturing to the display. “They emit the same energy signature as the Tesseract, but we have no idea what they’re for. That’s where Loki comes in.”

All eyes turn to him. He leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

“Convince me,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Why should I share my insights with you?”

“Because if you don’t,” Tony says, leaning forward, “we’ll lock you in a room with Banner and see how long it takes before the Other Guy wants a rematch.”

Bruce shoots Tony a horrified look, but Loki’s smirk falters for a split second. You notice the way his fingers tighten against the edge of the table.

“Enough,” you say firmly. “We’re not resorting to threats.” You turn to Loki, your voice softening slightly. “You know what’s out there, and you know how dangerous it can be. Help us stop it. Prove you’re not the monster everyone thinks you are.”

For a moment, the room is silent. Loki’s gaze locks onto yours, something flickering in his expression—something almost vulnerable. Then, slowly, he inclines his head.

“Very well,” he says, his voice smooth once more. “Let’s see if mortals can keep up.”

As the meeting disperses, Loki lingers behind, waiting until it’s just the two of you.

“Nicely done, Y/N,” he says, his tone almost... complimentary. “You’ve mastered the art of persuasion.”

“I didn’t persuade you,” you reply. “I just told the truth.”

He steps closer, his smirk returning. “And yet, it worked. I wonder, what other truths might you use to sway me?”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “Let’s focus on saving the world first, shall we?”

“As you wish,” he says, bowing his head slightly. But as he steps past you, his voice drops to a whisper. “Though I suspect saving me might be your true challenge.”

You watch him leave, your heart inexplicably pounding. This mission just got a lot more complicated.

The next morning, the Avengers leave in a flurry of purpose and energy, Stark’s voice echoing with instructions as they file out of the tower. It’s a rare sight—every single one of them heading into the field together. You’re left behind, tasked with monitoring Loki and keeping the tower secure.

The quiet that follows their departure is almost unnerving. You sit in the common area, flipping through a report on your tablet, when Loki saunters in. He’s unbound for now—S.H.I.E.L.D.’s restraints only used when necessary. His movements are languid, predatory, as he crosses the room with his usual air of entitlement.

“Left alone with me again, Y/N?” he drawls, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

You don’t look up. “You’re always alone, Loki. I’m just here to make sure you don’t destroy anything or anyone.”

He hums thoughtfully, his sharp gaze raking over you. “I wonder, is that truly why you remain? Or do you find my company... intriguing?”

You glance at him, exasperated. “I find it tolerable. At best.”

“And yet, here you are.” His smirk widens as he steps closer, just enough to test your boundaries. “Tell me, Agent, what do you do when the others aren’t here to play their parts? Surely, you don’t spend every waking moment in this dull little tower watching me.”

“Someone has to.” You set your tablet aside and stand, trying to put some distance between the two of you. “Why don’t you make my job easier and sit quietly for once?”

“But then how would I amuse myself?” He takes another step closer, his voice lowering. “You may not admit it, but I suspect you’d miss my antics if I were to behave.”

You roll your eyes and walk toward the kitchen, feigning indifference. “Don’t flatter yourself, Loki.”

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. You keep yourself busy with monitoring systems and catching up on reports, all while Loki stays suspiciously quiet in his room. It's unusual—he’s normally a restless presence, eager to test limits.

You assume his compliance is a sign of temporary boredom. What you don’t know is that Loki is lying in his sparse room, calculating. He’s been studying the tower’s security systems, searching for a way to slip past its safeguards. Tonight might be the night, he thinks. He’s memorized the patterns, the gaps, and he knows he can vanish before the Avengers even realize he’s gone.

As the hours stretch into evening, you retire to your room, unaware of the god’s intentions. Your space is a rare sanctuary in the tower, a blend of cozy practicality and personal touches that feel distinctly you.

Loki waits until the tower falls completely silent. With a wave of his hand, he disables the monitoring device in his room. It’s a minor spell—one he’s been saving for the right moment. The cuffs are no longer a problem; he’s studied the locking mechanism enough to slip them off without much effort.

He steps into the hallway, his bare feet silent on the cool floor. For the first time in weeks, he feels a surge of freedom, the tantalizing promise of escape. He heads for the exit, his mind already planning the next steps.

But as he passes by your room, a faint sound catches his attention. The door is slightly ajar, spilling a sliver of warm light into the hall. Loki hesitates, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

He peeks inside—and what he sees makes his breath hitch.

You’re standing in front of your bed, freshly out of the shower. Your hair is damp, curling against your shoulders, and you’re wearing nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around your body. The bathroom door behind you is still open, steam curling into the air, and the glow of a bedside lamp bathes your skin in soft light.

Completely unaware of your observer, you move to the dresser, pulling it open to retrieve clothes. As you reach up, the towel slips slightly, revealing more of your shoulder and the curve of your collarbone. Loki swallows hard, a rush of heat pooling in his chest and spreading lower.

He knows he should leave—should slip away unnoticed and continue with his plan. But he doesn’t move.

There’s something captivating about this glimpse of you outside the professional walls you keep so firmly in place. You’re unguarded, human in a way he rarely sees, and it stirs something in him he doesn’t entirely understand.

He takes a step closer, his presence still undetected. The urge to say something, to tease you as he always does, bubbles up, but he suppresses it.

For once, the god of mischief is utterly silent.

You turn suddenly, as if sensing something, and his heart lurches. He retreats quickly, pressing himself against the wall just as your eyes flick toward the door.

“Hello?” you call, your voice uncertain.

Loki curses himself for his foolishness. He shouldn’t have lingered—but now that he’s seen this side of you, his desire to leave the tower has shifted. He watches as you step closer to the door, your expression wary.

He slips away, retreating to his room without a sound. Once inside, he leans against the wall, his mind racing.

The thought of escape still lingers in the back of his mind, but it no longer feels urgent. Not tonight.

Not when he knows you’re here, in the same space, entirely unaware of the effect you’ve had on him.

You find Loki in the common area, lounging on the couch as if nothing happened. His cuffs are back in place, though you notice a faint smugness in his expression, as if he knows something you don’t.

“Good morning,” he says smoothly, his tone laced with amusement.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You seem chipper today.”

“Perhaps I’ve found reason to be,” he replies, his gaze flickering over you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You frown, brushing off the unease that his words stir. “Try not to enjoy yourself too much. You’re still under watch.”

“Of course,” he says with a slight bow of his head. “But tell me, Y/N, how did you sleep? Peacefully, I hope.”

There’s something about the way he says it—soft, teasing, with just a hint of mischief—that makes you pause.

You brush past him, refusing to let him get under your skin. But as you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts.

And in his room later, Loki sits at the edge of his bed, the memory of you from the night before seared into his mind.

For now, his escape can wait.

The tension in the air was thick as the Avengers gathered in the briefing room, the holographic screen showing images of the upcoming gala. Tony Stark stood at the head of the table, his hands resting on the surface, eyes narrowed as he analyzed the data. Steve Rogers was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw set, while Natasha Romanoff sat with a focused expression, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. Bruce Banner, still uneasy around Loki, looked at the screen, then at his colleagues, silently awaiting the inevitable question.

"Alright," Tony began, his voice cutting through the thick silence. "We've got a masked gala happening in three days. High-profile event. The criminals we're tracking are expected to make a deal there, and it's our best shot at catching them."

"But they’ll be surrounded by a lot of people," Natasha said, folding her arms. "And these are highly dangerous individuals—some with connections to Hydra. We can’t risk a full-on assault."

"I agree," Steve added, his tone serious. "If we act too soon, we’ll spook them. We need to get inside, gather intel, and only move in when we have enough to bring them down safely."

"The problem," Tony continued, tapping a button on the table to bring up a closer view of the suspects, "is that they’re too well-protected. The best way in is through someone they don’t expect. Someone like... Loki."

The room went quiet. Everyone exchanged glances, the air thick with unease. Even though Loki had been cooperating—somewhat—the trust wasn’t there. Not after what he’d done. Not after the chaos he’d tried to bring to Earth. And still, his knowledge of these kinds of circles, his ability to navigate a room and blend in with the highest of society—well, it was a skill set they couldn’t afford to ignore.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Tony continued. “But he’s the only one who can do this. We send him in as a guest. He can be charming—when he wants to be—and this kind of event is perfect for him. He won’t be recognized as a threat. In fact, they’ll probably be more inclined to trust him because of his past affiliations.”

“But we can’t just let him roam free,” Steve said, his distrust of the god evident. “There’s still the matter of him being dangerous. Even if he’s pretending to play nice, he’s unpredictable.”

“Exactly,” Tony said with a nod. “Which is why we’ll send Y/N in with him. As his escort.”

The room went silent again, this time for a different reason. Every eye turned to you, and for a brief moment, you felt the weight of their gazes. It wasn’t exactly a choice you’d been expecting. You had done plenty of fieldwork, but partnering with Loki? That was a new level of uncomfortable.

“Y/N’s been on the ground for this mission longer than any of us,” Tony continued, sensing the hesitation. “She knows the people, she knows how to blend in, and most importantly, she knows Loki better than any of us. She can keep him in check. Plus, we need someone who can keep him focused when things get... tense.”

You couldn’t help but shoot Tony a sharp look. “You’re assuming I’ll be able to control him. I’m not sure that’s realistic.”

“I’m confident you can,” Tony said with a shrug, though his tone was far from comforting. “Besides, we’ll be monitoring you both from the moment you step inside. We’ll be feeding you intel, and we’ve got backup in case things go sideways. But we can’t afford to miss this opportunity.”

You let out a long breath. The Avengers were right in one respect—this gala would be the criminals’ first big move, and it was the perfect chance to catch them red-handed. The only problem was the wild card in all of this—Loki.

“You do realize, he’s going to hate this, right?” you said, glancing toward the hallway where Loki’s room was. “He won’t go along with it without making some... demands.”

“I’m aware,” Tony said with a smirk. “But that’s where you come in. You’re going to keep him in line, whether he likes it or not.”

The idea of working so closely with Loki was disconcerting, to say the least. You weren’t sure if you were more concerned about his volatile personality or the way he looked at you—like he could read you with a single glance. Either way, being his partner at a high-stakes event was sure to turn this mission into something far more complicated than it already was.

“You’ll need to get him suited up,” Tony added. “Dress him the part. He’s got the charm, but he’s going to need the right... accessories to sell it. A tux, maybe something dark and mysterious. And, of course, a story. We’re going with the ‘rich but elusive businessman’ angle.”

You nodded reluctantly. “I’ll make sure he’s... presentable. But don’t expect him to be on his best behavior just because he’s wearing a suit.”

“I’m counting on you to make sure he stays in character, Y/N,” Tony said, locking eyes with you. “We need him to play nice for just a few hours. If he steps out of line, you have full clearance to use whatever means necessary to rein him in.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “I don’t like putting you in this position, Y/N. But this is the only chance we’ve got to take down these criminals. You know the risks, and we’re counting on you to make sure Loki doesn’t derail everything.”

“I get it,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “I’ll keep him focused. But if he decides to do something... foolish, don’t expect me to clean up after him.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony said with a grin. “But seriously, we’re counting on you both. The gala is our best chance to catch them. You’ll be getting intel from us in real time, so we’ll know exactly when to move in.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on your shoulders. This wasn’t just about stopping criminals—it was about making sure Loki didn’t ruin everything, too. And while you could handle the job, you knew it wouldn’t be easy, especially with a god of mischief at your side.

As you walked to Loki’s room to prepare him for the mission, your mind raced. You were about to go undercover with someone who had a knack for turning every situation into a game. It was going to be a challenge, no doubt about it. But if it meant catching the criminals and keeping the tower—and your team—safe, you were ready to do whatever it took.

You reached his door and knocked twice, preparing yourself for the inevitable confrontation. It was time to bring him into the fold, even if that meant wrestling him into a tux and a plan.

Inside, Loki’s voice echoed through the door. “Come in, Y/N. I trust this isn’t a social call?”

You opened the door, steeling yourself. The mission was about to begin, and there was no turning back.

The grandeur of the gala hits you the moment you step into the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the crowd, illuminating the sea of elegant masks and opulent gowns. A live band plays a sultry melody, the kind that fills the air with the promise of secrets. Beside you, Loki cuts an imposing figure, his sharp suit tailored to perfection and his black mask veiling just enough of his face to make him look both alluring and dangerous.

You’re both walking a tightrope here, pretending to be something you’re not while still tethered to the truth. The mission is clear: mingle, gather intel on the criminals, and identify their deal. But the undercurrent of your arrangement hums just beneath the surface, threatening to pull you under with every step.

“They certainly went all out,” Loki muses, his voice smooth as silk. He offers his arm, and though you hesitate for a fraction of a second, you take it. “Is this where I play the doting husband?”

“Try not to overdo it,” you reply, keeping your voice low. “We’re supposed to blend in, not steal the spotlight.”

He tilts his head toward you, his lips curling into a smirk. “But stealing the spotlight is what I do best, darling.”

You give him a warning look, though your heart skips a beat at the way the endearment rolls off his tongue. “Save the theatrics for later. Right now, we need to find our targets.”

He hums in agreement, though the sharp gleam in his eyes suggests he’s more focused on you than the mission. His hand rests lightly over yours as he leads you through the crowd, weaving seamlessly between masked attendees. He’s good at this, you realize, his charm a perfect weapon in this environment.

“Smile,” he murmurs close to your ear, his breath ghosting against your skin. “You look far too serious for someone at a gala.”

You force a small smile, though the proximity of him sends heat rushing to your face. “I’d be more relaxed if I wasn’t babysitting a god with a penchant for chaos.”

“And I’d be more entertained if my wife weren’t so suspicious of me,” he teases, his voice dropping just enough to make the words feel intimate.

Before you can retort, Loki’s posture shifts ever so slightly. He leans closer, pretending to adjust your mask, and murmurs, “Our targets are at three o’clock. The tall one with the crimson gown. She’s speaking to a man with a cane.”

You glance subtly in that direction and nod. “Let’s move closer.”

The two of you drift toward the edge of the ballroom, positioning yourselves within earshot of the targets. Loki keeps his hand on yours, the intimate gesture lending an air of authenticity to your cover. You focus on the conversation happening nearby, picking up snippets of information about shipment schedules and encrypted codes.

But then, the music changes.

A familiar tune fills the room—sultry, electric, and unmistakably intense. It’s Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan, reimagined by the live band with a pulsing tango rhythm.

Before you can react, Loki takes your hand and spins you toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull back.

“Keeping up appearances,” he says smoothly, his mask glinting in the light. “We’re a married couple, after all. And what better way to celebrate our love than a dance?”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, but you allow him to lead you onto the floor.

The second your feet touch the polished wood, his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you closer than you expect. His other hand captures yours, holding it just above shoulder height as he begins to move. The tango’s rhythm demands sharp, deliberate steps, and Loki executes them flawlessly, guiding you as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you say, breathless as he spins you.

“I’m full of surprises,” he replies, his voice low and magnetic.

The music swells, the band leaning into the dramatic crescendos, and you feel the tension between you and Loki rise to match it. Every step, every twist of your body against his, feels charged. His hand lingers just a moment too long when it brushes your hip, his fingers grazing the bare skin between your dress and his touch.

“You’re supposed to be watching the targets,” you remind him, though your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.

“Ah, but how could I focus on them when my wife is such a vision?” His tone is playful, but there’s something darker, more serious, behind his words.

As he dips you, your breath catches. The movement is effortless, but the way his eyes bore into yours makes you forget, for a moment, that this is just an act.

The song’s climax hits, and Loki pulls you even closer, his cheek brushing yours as he whispers, “Tell me, darling. Are you pretending to enjoy this as much as I am?”

Your heart pounds, though you refuse to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you haven’t pushed me away,” he counters, spinning you once more before the final beats of the song.

The last note hangs in the air as Loki holds you in a dramatic pose, his arm wrapped around your waist, his face inches from yours. The applause from the crowd barely registers as you realize your breathing has quickened, your skin warm where his hand rests.

He smirks, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Shall we call this a victory, wife?”

You snap back to reality, pulling away just enough to compose yourself. “Don’t get used to it. We still have a mission.”

“Of course,” he says, though the glint in his eyes suggests he’s far more interested in the game he’s playing with you than the criminals in the room.

As the crowd disperses from the dance floor, you glance toward your targets, who seem to have moved toward a private balcony.

“Come on,” you say, tugging at his arm.

Loki follows, but not before leaning close and murmuring, “I’ll be thinking about that dance for a very long time.”

You don’t dignify him with a response, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. The mission isn’t over yet, and you can only hope Loki’s antics won’t make things even more complicated.

You and Loki follow the targets carefully, keeping a measured distance as they make their way toward a secluded hallway leading to the gala’s private suites. The corridor is dimly lit, lined with ornate wallpaper and gilded sconces. The murmur of the crowd fades, leaving only the faint echo of footsteps as you press closer to the wall, your pulse quickening with the thrill of being so near to your goal.

“They’re heading to the west wing,” Loki whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “It seems our charming couple prefers privacy for their dealings.”

You nod, your heart pounding as you creep along the edge of the hall, trying to stay out of sight. The couple stops just ahead, speaking in hushed tones. Loki steps closer behind you, his presence almost overwhelming in the enclosed space.

“Keep your focus,” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Oh, I am focused,” he replies, his tone playful but quiet. “Though I can’t help but wonder how much longer we can linger without being noticed.”

It’s a valid concern. The targets seem engrossed in their conversation, but the corridor is too exposed. You glance around, searching for a place to retreat or a better angle to listen in, but before you can decide, one of the criminals glances back sharply, their eyes scanning the hallway.

“They’re looking this way,” Loki mutters, his voice low and urgent.

Panic shoots through you. There’s no time to retreat, no place to hide. Your mind races, and then—on pure instinct—you grab Loki by the lapels of his suit and pull him toward you.

Before he can protest, your lips press against his, your back hitting the wall as you lean into him. His body stiffens for a split second, but then he catches on. His hands come to rest on your waist, fingers curling slightly as he leans into the kiss, matching your urgency with surprising ease.

Your heart hammers in your chest, not just from the danger but from the sudden, electric sensation of Loki’s mouth on yours. His lips are soft yet commanding, his touch both calculated and possessive as he shifts his body to shield you further from view.

“What in the Nine Realms are you doing?” he whispers against your lips, his tone more intrigued than accusatory.

“Keeping us alive,” you murmur back, your voice barely audible as the footsteps approach.

The targets pass by slowly, their footsteps deliberate. You can feel their gaze sweep over you, but you don’t dare look. Instead, you pour every ounce of focus into the act, your fingers curling into the fabric of Loki’s jacket as you deepen the kiss just enough to sell it.

Loki seems to relish the role, tilting his head to deepen the kiss further. His thumb brushes against your waist, sending a shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold.

A voice interrupts the moment, sharp and disapproving. “This is hardly the place for such displays.”

You part from Loki abruptly, your face hot as you turn to face the source of the scolding. One of the gala’s staff members, an older man in a crisp uniform, stands a few feet away, his expression one of polite disapproval.

“My apologies,” you say quickly, straightening your mask and trying to appear appropriately chastised. “We got… carried away.”

Loki, ever the performer, offers a sheepish smile that’s somehow more seductive than apologetic. “Forgive us. My wife and I have a difficult time restraining our passions.”

The staff member huffs, clearly unimpressed. “There are designated areas for such… activities. Keep it off the main floor.”

“Of course,” Loki replies smoothly, his hand still resting at the small of your back. “We’ll be more discreet.”

The staff member mutters something under his breath before walking away, and you exhale a shaky breath, your heart still racing. The targets are gone, having paid you no more than a passing glance. The plan worked.

You glance up at Loki, whose expression is unreadable behind his mask. “That was quick thinking,” he says finally, though there’s a teasing edge to his voice. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“It was survival,” you retort, stepping out of his hold and straightening your dress. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He smirks, adjusting his own mask with an air of casual arrogance. “Too late for that, darling. I’m afraid you’ve given me quite a lot to think about.”

You glare at him, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you. “Focus, Loki. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Ah, but you see,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr, “now I’m more motivated than ever to see this mission through. And who knows? Perhaps we’ll need to use that particular tactic again.”

You roll your eyes, brushing past him as you head back toward the main event. But as much as you want to dismiss his words, the lingering warmth of his kiss—and the way your body seemed to respond to him—stays with you, making it harder to focus than you’d like.

Loki follows close behind, his footsteps quiet but his presence impossible to ignore. And though neither of you speaks it aloud, there’s an unspoken awareness between you now—an understanding that something has shifted. Whether that’s a good thing or a dangerous one, only time will tell.

The ride back to the Avengers Tower is quieter than you expect, though tension hangs in the air, thick and unyielding. The mission was a success; you and Loki gathered enough intel to pinpoint the criminals’ next move and their precise location. As Tony pilots the jet, he and Natasha pore over the information, already strategizing for the intervention. Steve listens intently, his expression serious, while Bruce sits stiffly in his seat, keeping his distance from Loki, though the god seems entirely unfazed.

You sit across from Loki, your mask now discarded, but the memory of the gala’s events lingers. Every stolen glance, every near-discovery, and every moment you spent pressed against him still simmers in the back of your mind. You can feel his eyes on you, and though you refuse to look at him, your body betrays you, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Quite the evening,” Loki says suddenly, his voice smooth and low. His tone carries the same playful edge it always does, but there’s something else lurking beneath it—something darker, hungrier.

“Successful, at least,” you reply, keeping your voice even as you glance at him. “We accomplished what we came to do.”

“Indeed,” he says, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Though I dare say the evening held more… unexpected delights than anticipated.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Steve interrupts.

“Focus, you two,” he says sharply. “We’ve got work to do.”

Loki’s smirk widens, but he falls silent, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied air. You cross your arms, willing yourself to ignore him, though the memory of his kiss lingers, stubborn and persistent.

When you return to the Tower, the debriefing is quick and efficient. Tony projects the data you and Loki retrieved, detailing the location of the deal and the criminals’ schedule. The team agrees to strike at dawn, using the element of surprise to their advantage. As plans take shape, you feel a flicker of relief. The night’s tension will soon give way to action, and with any luck, this mission will end successfully.

Once the meeting adjourns, you catch Loki’s eye. “Come on,” you say, gesturing for him to follow. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

“As you wish,” he replies, rising gracefully from his seat.

The walk to his quarters is quiet at first. The Tower feels oddly still in the late hours, the hallways dimly lit. You lead the way, your mind spinning as you try to push away the lingering heat of the gala—the dance, the kiss, the way his hands felt on you. Loki walks beside you, his presence magnetic as ever, his gaze lingering on you even when you refuse to meet it.

When you reach his door, you stop, turning to face him. “Goodnight, Loki,” you say, your voice firm but polite.

But before you can step away, he moves closer.

“You’ve been avoiding my eyes all evening,” he says, his voice a low, velvety murmur. “Why is that, darling? Did I do something to unnerve you?”

“No,” you reply quickly, though the catch in your voice betrays you. “I’ve been focused on the mission, that’s all.”

“Liar,” he says softly, his smirk returning. “You’ve been thinking about it. About us. About the way I touched you, held you, kissed you.”

His words send a rush of heat through you, and you take a step back, your back hitting the wall. He follows, closing the distance until he’s mere inches away, his tall frame towering over you.

“Admit it,” he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You felt it, too—the spark, the fire. I see it in your eyes, Y/N. You want me just as much as I want you.”

You open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Because he’s right. No matter how much you’ve tried to deny it, the truth is undeniable now, burning in every corner of your being.

His hand rises to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into his touch, your resolve crumbling as the need overtakes you. Loki’s eyes darken, his breath hitching as he realizes your answer.

With a groan, he closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s nothing like the one at the gala. This kiss is raw, urgent, and unrestrained, a culmination of every unspoken word and every stolen glance. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips move against yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

And to his surprise—and yours—you kiss him back with just as much passion. Your fingers thread through his dark hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the moment. The world falls away, leaving only the heat of his touch and the hunger in his kiss.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, your foreheads resting together. Loki’s hands remain on your waist, his grip firm yet gentle as if he’s afraid you might pull away.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse but tender.

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you press your lips to his again, silencing any words with a kiss that speaks volumes. For now, words don’t matter. All that matters is this—this moment, this connection, this fire that neither of you can deny anymore.

And for the first time, neither of you tries to.

The Tower feels different now, quieter in the wake of the mission’s success. The criminals have been apprehended, their operation dismantled, and SHIELD has taken over for the cleanup. But despite the victory, a strange tension lingers, heavy and unspoken. Fury and Thor are locked in discussions about Loki’s fate, and you and Loki are left waiting in his room, suspended in uncertainty.

The silence between you is unlike any other you’ve shared before. It’s not sharp with banter or charged with playful tension; it’s softer, quieter, tinged with something neither of you is willing to name.

You sit on the edge of the small couch by the window, gazing out at the city lights glittering against the dark sky. Loki leans against the desk, his long fingers idly toying with the edge of a book. For once, he’s still—not prowling or pacing, not filling the room with his restless energy.

“They’re taking their time,” you murmur, your voice cutting through the silence.

“They always do,” Loki replies, though his tone lacks its usual sarcasm.

You glance at him, studying his profile. He looks calm, almost serene, but you’ve spent enough time with him to see through the mask. The faint furrow in his brow, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands grip the book just a little too tightly—they all betray him.

“They’ll make the right decision,” you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

He scoffs lightly but doesn’t look at you. “The right decision,” he repeats, the words laced with bitterness. “That depends entirely on who is defining it.”

You sigh, standing and moving closer to him. “Loki, you helped. You could’ve run at any point during this mission, but you didn’t. That has to count for something.”

His lips twist into a faint smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “And do you think that will sway Fury or my brother? Do you think they’ll forget what I’ve done? The chaos, the destruction?”

“They don’t have to forget,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “But they can see that you’re not the same person who attacked New York. You’ve changed, Loki.”

His gaze finally lifts to meet yours, and for a moment, something raw flashes in his eyes—something vulnerable and uncertain. “Have I?”

You place your hand over his, stilling his restless movements. “Yes. You have. I see it. And if they can’t, then that’s their failure, not yours.”

The room falls into silence again, but this time, it feels different. Loki’s hand shifts beneath yours, his fingers curling around yours as he exhales slowly.

“What do you think they’ll decide?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But whatever happens, we’ll face it. Together.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, the mask falls away entirely. You see the man beneath—the uncertainty, the fear, the hope he doesn’t dare acknowledge.

“You say that as if you’ll still be by my side when this is over,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t hesitate. “I will be.”

His hand tightens on yours, his eyes holding yours as if trying to memorize every detail. Then, without warning, he pulls you closer, his other hand rising to cradle your face.

“If this is to be the last time we’re alone,” he says, his voice trembling slightly, “then let it be a moment worth remembering.”

Your heart aches at the words, at the vulnerability he’s showing. But you don’t argue. Instead, you lean into him, closing the gap between you.

The kiss is different this time. It’s not urgent or hungry but slow and lingering, filled with a quiet desperation. His lips move against yours as if savoring every second, every touch, every taste. His hands are gentle, one cradling your cheek while the other rests on your waist, anchoring you to him.

You lose yourself in him, in the way he holds you like you’re something fragile and precious, in the way his touch feels like both a promise and a farewell.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, and the world outside feels impossibly far away.

“No matter what they decide,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly, “you’re not alone. You never will be.”

For a long moment, Loki doesn’t speak. Then he nods, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek as he closes his eyes.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the words so quiet you almost miss them.

The two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the world outside fade away. For now, there’s no SHIELD, no judgment, no uncertain future. There’s only this—this moment, this connection, this fragile yet unbreakable bond.

And for now, that’s enough.

The knock at the door comes like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile stillness you and Loki have wrapped yourselves in. You tense in his arms, and his grip on you tightens briefly before he lets you go, stepping back as though putting distance between you is the only way to shield himself from what’s coming.

You take a deep breath and move to answer the door, Loki trailing behind you. When you open it, you’re greeted by the imposing figures of Nick Fury and Thor. Fury’s face is unreadable, his single eye piercing as it moves between you and Loki. Thor’s expression is graver than you’ve ever seen it, a heaviness in his gaze that sends a chill down your spine.

“May we come in?” Fury asks, his voice clipped.

You nod, stepping aside to let them enter. Loki lingers near the window, his posture deceptively casual as he leans against the wall. But you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl faintly against his sides.

Fury and Thor take positions near the center of the room, both of them standing tall and commanding. Thor’s gaze lingers on Loki, a mix of concern and judgment flashing across his face.

“We’ve reached a decision,” Fury begins, his tone as sharp as ever. “It wasn’t an easy one, considering everything Loki has done in the past and the risks he poses in the future.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you glance at Loki. He’s staring at Fury now, his expression a careful mask of indifference.

“Loki Laufeyson,” Thor says, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “Your actions during this mission have proven that you are capable of aiding Midgard without causing harm. However, they do not erase the destruction you have wrought.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “How magnanimous of you, brother. Do get to the point.”

Thor’s jaw tightens, but he presses on. “You will not be returned to Asgard’s dungeons. Instead, you will remain here, under the supervision of SHIELD and the Avengers. Your movements will be restricted, and any deviation from the terms of your parole will result in severe consequences.”

Fury nods. “Think of it as probation. You step out of line, you’re done. No exceptions.”

You exhale a shaky breath, relief flooding through you despite the harshness of their words. Loki isn’t going back to Asgard’s prison. He isn’t being taken away.

Loki, however, seems less than impressed. “So, I am to be your prisoner still, but with a longer leash?”

“Consider it an opportunity,” Thor says, his tone softening slightly. “To prove that you are more than your past mistakes.”

Loki’s smirk fades, and for a moment, something unreadable flashes in his eyes. He looks away, his gaze drifting to the window.

“And what role do I play in this… probation?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

“You’ll assist the Avengers as needed,” Fury says bluntly. “Your skills are… useful, when not being used to destroy things.”

“Charming,” Loki mutters.

Fury ignores the comment, turning his attention to you. “As for you, Y/N, you’ll remain his primary handler. You’ve proven capable of keeping him in check, and frankly, you’re the only one he seems remotely willing to listen to.”

The weight of the responsibility settles over you, but you nod firmly. “Understood.”

Thor steps forward then, his gaze fixed on Loki. “Do not squander this chance, brother. It may be the only one you are given.”

Loki meets his gaze, his expression unreadable. “I’ll endeavor not to disappoint you, Thor.”

The words are polite, but there’s a sharpness to them, a bitterness that hasn’t faded. Thor watches him for a moment longer before nodding and turning to leave. Fury follows, but not before giving you a pointed look.

“Keep him in line,” he says, and then he’s gone, the door closing behind him.

The room falls into silence again, heavier now than before. You turn to Loki, who remains by the window, his back to you.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “It seems I’m to be your ward indefinitely. I hope you’re prepared for the burden.”

You take a step closer, your heart aching at the undercurrent of vulnerability in his tone. “Loki… this is a second chance. They didn’t have to give you that.”

He turns to face you, his expression guarded. “A second chance to serve as their pet sorcerer, you mean. To be tolerated, not trusted.”

“It’s more than that,” you insist, moving closer still. “It’s a chance to prove them wrong. To show them who you really are.”

“And who is that, Y/N?” he asks, his voice dropping. “Who do you think I really am?”

You hesitate, your throat tightening as you search for the right words. “I think you’re someone who’s been hurt, someone who’s made mistakes, but someone who’s still capable of doing good. Of being… more.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. Then, to your surprise, he chuckles—a quiet, almost bitter sound.

“You are a strange woman, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head. “But perhaps that’s what I need.”

You smile faintly, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “You’ll never have to face this alone, Loki. Not as long as I’m here.”

He gazes at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, he lifts a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“You’re maddening, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low and tender.

“Then we’re even,” you reply, your lips quirking into a faint smile.

For the first time that night, his smirk softens into something more genuine. And as he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, the weight of the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 47 – CANON DIVERGENCE

Gained in Translation by Annie D (scaramouche)

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 11,556 Tags: Humor and Banter, Light-Hearted, First Kiss

Summary: Steve returns to New York and meets Tony for the first time since they’d parted ways after the Chitauri incident. It’s a little awkward at first, but they gain a new rhythm, which is mainly based on their ability to surprise each other and prove those first impressions inaccurate. Set between Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Avengers: Age of Ultron.

Reasons why I love it: I love how we get to see Tony figuring out that Steve is a little shit with a sense of humor, but it's told from Steve's perspective in all these subtle cues, which makes it even better. And oh my god, the moment Steve realizes that he feels something for Tony is one of my favorites in all the fics I've read, it's just so Steve. I adore this fic, and if you haven't read it yet, you are missing out!

Sins of the Father by AvocadoLove

Pairing: Bucky/Tony Rating: T Words: 11,196 Tags: Hostage Situations, Howard is HYDRA, Secret Identity

Summary: Tony's practically become an old hat at being taken hostage, but something's fishier than usual this time around: his captor looks twenty-eight but claims to know Howard Stark, the NYPD negotiator is a SHIELD plant, and what's this about a fleet of helicarriers set to launch? (TWS AU.)

Reasons why I love it: Everything about this is so fricking good – the whole mess with Howard, the way that SHIELD's HYDRA infestation comes to light, the hopeful ending, I love all of it. And of course, the hints of Winteriron bonding are amazing. Also check out the second part of this series, which is a prequel to this one, it adds another layer of awesomeness to this whole thing.

Can You Carry It (With No Regrets) by RayShippouUchiha

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: G Words: 1,722 Tags: Major Character Death, Infinity Gems, Unhappy Ending

Summary: “I know,” Tony tells him softly, eyes wide and soft and lips quirked in a small smile, “it isn’t fair.” Tony’s always been so good at knowing what Steve’s thinking, except for the few times Steve purposefully, actively, lied to him. Times he knows now he’ll never get the chance to make up for. “Focus,” Tony whispers as he leans forward into Steve’s space. “Breathe.”

Reasons why I love it: Aaaah, this hurts SO GOOD! I love the role switch and the way the scene goes down with those subtle differences that make it Stony. And of course, the added regret just makes it all even more tragic. Definitely check this one out, it's amazing!

Party girls don't get hurt by sirona

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 12,871 Tags: Age Difference, Misunderstandings, Howard's A+ Parenting

Summary: Steve never slept under the ice. Howard found him, and got him back, and Steve married Peggy, and Howard married Maria, and then there was Tony. This is the story of Tony growing up with Steve very much present in his life, and everything that changed because of it - and some things that didn't.

Reasons why I love it: What do a young Tony Stark who is just as full of snark as you would imagine and a supersoldier not so lost in time make? The recipe for a fantastic fic, that's what. I love the way their relationship develops over time and all of the canon elements that they find their way into the plot. This fic is spectacular, and you should definitely read it!

Symmetry Breaking by Annie D (scaramouche)

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 10,824 Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Casual Sex, Happy Ending

Summary: After the Battle of New York, Steve rode off on his motorbike. That's how it went the first time. This time he rides back, all the way to Stark Tower, where he asks Tony for help.

Reasons why I love it: This is such a brilliant take on what might have happened after Steve's little elevator stunt during the Endgame time heist, it's honestly genius. The smut is fantastic, and I love every single line of dialogue that they say to each other, it's so them. This fic is wonderful, and you should definitely read it, if you haven't already!

[qilingxiong]

alright, ji chen as hei xiazi lives in my head now and he's here to stay

[giantkillerjack]

Hey remember that time Tim Burton said that he doesn't include Black characters as leads because it would be too "politically correct"? They just don't fit his "vision", guys! Unless they're villains. Obviously. 🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮 /s (Apparently, this is the case so far in the Wednesday show.)

So yeah. This movie here by Jordan "one of the best filmmakers alive" Peele and Henry "the guy who actually directed Nightmare Before Christmas" Selleck being one of the best animated movies to come out in years is so awesome on so many levels:

Kat as a Black alt girl - fuck anyone who says they don't exist! Of course they do! and they're punk as hell! In fact, this specific scene highlights exactly how fucking punk she is: It has been firmly established that HER REBELLION HAS REAL AND SEVERE POTENTIAL CONSEQUENCES beyond just dirty looks from preppy kids. If she is expelled, she goes back to prison. This child arrives at school in chains. And she STILL does this within minutes of arriving because she has a strength of identity that she won't let anyone take away from her. WHAT COULD BE MORE PUNK THAN THAT????

Genuinely anti-fascist messaging (Disney would NEVER) and a direct commentary on the prison industrial complex (hey, Tim! have your films had anything important to say, like... ever? Just checking, cause I know you got that incurable progressive mediocrity disease. 😭 Poor bb.)

Excellent comedy! (It's Key and Peele, baby!)

James Hong is there and he is great.

Wonderful and dynamic character/set design!

An interpretation of healing from trauma that was so beautiful I wept.

An extremely sexy giant demon DILF lord!

Original songs!

A FAT FEMALE CHARACTER WHO IS A COOL BADASS WHILE REPRESENTING SUPPORT BETWEEN GENERATIONS OF BLACK WOMEN??? WHAT?!!?!! YES!!!!!!! (hey real quick, everyone! Name the first 10 badass fat female characters that come to your mind! Oh what's that? It's taking you a while to think of even 5???? SO WEIRD. Okay then just name a couple fat Tim Burton characters who aren't villains. Oh?? THERE'S LITERALLY NONE??? HOW FUCKIN' STRANGE)

And let's not forget, THE FIRST TRANS BOY I HAVE EVER SEEN IN A MOVIE!!!! RAUL IS A MAIN CHARACTER WITH A TON OF SCREENTIME AND HIS AGENCY IS INTEGRAL TO THE PLOT!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰 he's perfect and his Hispanic heritage is not only much-needed representation, but it is also relevant to the beautiful artwork he makes in the style of pre-colonial Latin American religious imagery!

Raul's art stands in direct contrast to the grim cold aesthetic of the Catholic Church. (Disney would NEVER) Which IS in other movies I've seen.... so long as the non-Christian imagery represents an ancient evil that highlights the nobility and necessity of the Church for crushing Pagan religions. This is the FIRST TIME I've ever seen an inversion of that trope and it RULES.

Anyway this movie is so good and everyone needs to know about it.

Wendell & Wild (2022)

Bad things happen to people I’m close to... They die.

[my-current-obsession]

I gotta say, it took me a bit to really get into Rune Factory 3 (in fact when I first got the game and tried it out I quit after like two hours and didn't touch it for a few months just because the gameplay was a bit janky and it was missing some quality-of-life stuff I was used to having in 4 and 5 and I got really frustrated), but on my second foray into the game it really sucked me in. I might even like the story and especially the romance aspect better than the other games.

I really appreciate that the romance is a forced part of the narrative; you literally can't access the final dungeon and beat the game until you pick a girl to marry. And BECAUSE of that, this game went hard on actually developing the girls and giving you ample time to spend with them. The request system basically functions as a "route" for each girl, and while I've only completed (9/9 one-time quests done) a few of them (Raven, Daria, Marian) I've really enjoyed everything thus far and felt the relationships develop from strangers to friends to love.

And unlike 4 and 5 where I have clear favorites in terms of who to marry, I honestly don't know who I'm going to pick yet. The only girls I'm NOT particularly interested in are Carmen, Colette, and Kuruna. All the other girls are great and I'd be happy to marry any of them, though I AM leaning towards Raven, Marian, or Sakuya (who I WOULD have completed already if not for some of her events being locked behind plot progression...).

[quimichi]

˚ ✦ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐎𝐃 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　. 　*　

WARNINGS: skin to skin contact, cuddling, it's all fluff but yk, pet names, light NSFW, I apologize if my view of these characters do not line up with yours or they may seem inaccurate, this is a mess btw, + lazy editing

SUMMARY: The love of their life/favorite person (you) graced them with love, affection and skin to skin contact...

CHARACTERS: Everyone x F!Creator Reader

WORD COUNT: 20.680

A/N: This was written before Natlan came out soo no Natlan characters yet. Also, the platonic parts are shorter. I unfortunately can't add more tags, they somehow stopped.

Aether

Aether is all too happy to spend his time with you on the cliffside; he leans against you, his head resting idly against your shoulder. Whenever he speaks, his breath would brush against your neck, tickling you gently. He is practically melting against you; he’s like a clingy cat, enjoying every second your warm skin touches his. "I've missed you," he says softly, lifting his head to gaze up at you with a dreamy smile.

You can't help but chuckle, "Understandable, you're barely by my side. You always end up traveling over Teyvat." Aether’s expression softens. He looks a little guilty when you bring up travelling, but his arms tighten around you, pulling his body a little closer.

”I know I’m always off adventuring…but I always come back to you. I always come back to you.” He pauses, and then he smiles a little wider. He seems cheeky when he adds: ”You do remember that, right?”

You pinch his cheek, such a brat sometimes. Aethers face scrunches up as you gently pinch his cheek. He looks disgruntled for a few moments, before he grins. His expression becomes warm and soft when he returns to the conversation. ”Well, as long as you remember,” he says with a smile. His gaze flits to the side for a moment, as he looks up at the sky; the sun is setting, casting warm light upon the landscape. He shivers.

”It’s getting cold.” he grins again, before he nestles himself comfortably against you. He wraps his arms around your midriff, trying to pull you closer.

”And you’re so warm,” he mutters, burying his face against you. He’s enjoying this more than a little...

Albedo

He can't help it. He wraps his arms around you, clinging to you almost desperately. He doesn't care how it looks or how utterly pathetic he seems as he clings to you. "Your Grace..." he mumbles, shifting further to bury his head against your collarbone. His hold on you has grown almost like an iron grip, as though he expects you to vanish the second he lets go.

He seems terrified, in a way, of the thought that this is merely an ephemeral dream. That he'll wake up and find himself by his shrine in the cold with only a lingering memory of your warm touch. He fears that any second, you would pull away and he would be left empty and wanting more. Like an addict deprived of their fix, he fears and craves for your touch with his whole heart. "Hmm?" a hum escapes you as you mindlessly stroke his hair. Albedo's body seems to loosen like liquid as you stroke his hair. He leans against you, almost desperately soaking up the affection like an addicted man.

"Your Grace..." he mumbles again, shivering as you run your hands through his silky strands. The action is so simple, and yet he seems to relish in the feeling. His arms are still around you, and they tighten again as you stroke his hair. After being deprived of affection for so long, he can't help but cling to you as though you'll slip away the second he lets go.

"Please don't... leave, ever"

Amber

She sighs softly as ahe curls against you, he back against your chest. The sound of the breeze gently blowing the blades of the windmill makes her smile faintly, as her eyes flutter shut. Luckily it's night, or the people of Mondstadt would go wild over the fact that you would be here. Amber seems at peace like this, and she can't resist nuzzling into your neck. Her expression is soft and she hums quietly along with the sound of the windmill, the gentle breeze making her hair stir from its position.

“Your Grace?” she calls quietly, lifting her head up just enough to meet your eyes. "Hmm?" Amber hesitates, for a moment, before asking his next question quietly. “You… you said you love me too, when I told you I love you. Do you-“ she pauses, her voice cracking, and she has to force out the next few syllables, “do you really mean it?”

"Of course I mean it." Amber lets her head fall backwards against your chest again, her expression softening. A mixture of emotions flicker across hwr face, a look of relief, but also disbelief that this is all real, that you truly love her.

“Say it again, please?”

"I love you."

"...thank you, so much."

Al-Haitham

Al-Haitham has his arms wrapped around you, holding you against him close. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his, every breath you take a gentle reminder of your presence. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent that's so distinctly you. You feel his heart thudding against your back, but he seems otherwise still, holding you firmly and yet gently at the same time. Each breath he takes is shaky, as if he could shatter at any moment. His arms tighten around you, holding you so close that he's afraid he may be hurting you. But he can't help himself. You're here. You're in his arms, warm and close and alive.

He shuts his eyes, inhaling the scent of your hair. "Yours," he whispers quietly into your skin. "Hm? What?" you heard what he said, you just wanted him to say it again more clear. He feels your hum more than he hears it, the low rumble in your body reverberating through his own. Al-Haitham keeps his arms wrapped tightly around you, his body moulding itself around you.

He lifts his head, whispering into your ear, "I said, 'yours.'"

Every fiber of his being belongs to you, and he feels the need to remind you.

"Yours, and mine" he whispers again, pulling you closer.

Arlecchino

Her arms are wrapped around your naked body, her exposed chest warm against your back. Her head rests atop yours, arms curling around your body to hold you closer. She can feel your hair against her skin, and she breathes in your scent. It's so familiar to her. So perfect.

She holds you like she's worried you'll be snatched away from her. Arlecchinos breathing is slow and measured, matching the steady rhythm of the crackling fireplace. Her chest rises and falls against your back, a constant reminder of her presence.

With you in hwr arms, she feels whole. She presses her nose to your head again, inhaling.

"That was nice..." you whisper, snuggling into her chest more and closing your eyes, enjoying the peace and quite. Arlecchino lets out a quiet laugh, her breath ruffling your hair.

"It was beautiful," she agrees. "You are beautiful." She reaches down and brushes her fingernails along your skin, the tips moving down your arm, tracing patterns against your skin.

"No, it was prefect, just like you." She corrects herself.

Ayaka

Ayaka can barely believe it.

She's in your bed, in your arms, pressed against the very body she's worshipped for so long. For a few moments, she's simply frozen as her mind struggles to catch up. Ayaka knows she should speak or do something, but the feeling of your body next to hers is a sensation so completely foreign, she's utterly speechless. All of this is new— the soft press of your curves against her back, your breath by her ear..."Your hair is so soft, 'yaka" you whisper against her ear. Ayaka feels her face flush at your words. Her hands involuntarily clutch at the sheets, pulling at them as she struggles to not react to your touch— except...she loves it. She loves it more than anything.

Her eyes flutter shut as she tries to keep herself in control. She wants to give into you, lean back, let herself melt into you... but at the same time, she can't. She struggles to speak, managing to stutter out, "May I...turn around, please?"

You obviously give her permission. Ayaka lets out a soft breath, feeling it leave her lungs. At your affirmation, she turns around, finally facing you.

For a moment, Ayaka doesn't meet your eyes, she meets your lips. She's all too aware of how close you are to her, how her body presses against yours. She tries to still her heart, but the warmth of your skin burns through her clothes, leaving her senses overwhelmed.

"Your lips..."

Ayato - nah cause for some reason that's my fav??

He buries his face into your hair and sighs, his chest rising and falling against your back with the motion.

"You smell so sweet," he confesses. His nose brushes against the shell of your ear gently, as if afraid to break the spell. "Like you are heaven made flesh." You raise a skeptic eyebrow, "Heaven made flesh huh? The most accurate description I've heard all those millenia." "Heaven made flesh," he mumbles again, his arms pulling you in closer to him. His fingers dig into your sides, holding you tight.

He takes a deep breath, the scent of your hair filling his nostrils like a drug. "If my hands burn when they touch you, well," he says gently, "then it serves me right for having the arrogance to touch an angel." You roll your eyes, "Don't be ridiculous, you have never burnt yourself by touching me" "Don't I?" He teases, laughing gently along with you. He brushes his lips against your neck, his breath coming out as a warm shiver against your skin.

"I may not be physically burnt, but I feel the heat all the same," he whispers. "I feel the heat when you laugh, when you speak, when I look at you. You're my own personal inferno." "And you are water, pure and fresh. If I'm an inferno, you will evaporate." you add. He laughs softly against your skin. "What a beautiful way to describe me. Water. Fresh. Pure."

He smiles, pulling back ever so slightly. The hand at your waist wanders to your chin, lifting it so that he can look you in the eyes.

"A waterfall doesn't evaporate when it brushes against fire," he says, blue eyes sparkling. "It extinguishes it." You blink, once, twice, until you deadpan. "So you wanna kill me?" Ayato scoffs, pulling you in closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair once more.

"Of course not," he answers, his tone indignant. "I don't wish to kill you. I wish to drown you."

He chuckles at his own words, the sound full and rich against your ear.

"Together we boil?" You ask

"Together we boil."

Baizhu

Changsheng, the white-scaled serpent, rests herself in a loose coil around Baizhu's neck, draped across his broad shoulders. She lifts her head and flicks her tongue out, glancing at you with her slitted eye before settling back into her nap.

As for Baizhu himself, he remains tense and stock-still at your side. He is utterly stiff, as if afraid that if he moved, he would somehow lose your touch. "You should relax and take a rest. You've been working too hard lately." Changsheng nods, "You tell this idiot." Baizhu blinks as if he's trying to process your words. To suggest that he rests, especially in your presence, seems... almost disrespectful. But after a glance at your face, he swallows his protest, opting to give a small nod at your suggestion.

"As you wish," he replies after a moment's hesitation. He almost looks ashamed; almost as if not working and devoting his entire being to you at all moments is failing you. Baizhu remains silent as you run soft fingers through his hair. He seems almost afraid to move, to breathe, to break some unspoken rule regarding his position as your humble worshiper.

His eyes flutter shut as you idly toy with his hair, threading your fingers through the green locks and gently tugging. Even the small gesture is enough to almost send him to another world. He takes a careful, deliberate inhale, savoring the scent of your presence.

"Realxing can be nice", at this point he's already half asleep when he said that. But one is for sure fully awake now, "Been saying that since forever, but you never listen!" "Shh Changsheng."

Barbara - aged up

She is cuddling you so close she's practically molded to you, with her breathing and the beating of her heart syncing up to match your rhythm.

She nuzzles her head against yours, burying herself against you and breathing deep with an almost desperate need. It's as though she can't get enough of you, and as if you're the air she needs to breathe. "I… I love you," she murmurs, like a prayer. "Never leave me." With every word she says, Barbara holds you even closer to her. She craves your presence, your touch, and your words more than anything else in the world.

With each gentle whisper of 'never leave me,' she grips you tighter in her arms, burying herself against you like she wants to become one with your very being.

"You're everything," she whispers. "I want to be with you forever."

"Babs? Sing me a song, hm? The one I like so much, please." you ask of her as you let your finger run over her cheek. She nods, her breath leaving her in one soft, sharp exhale that sounds like a sigh. "Anything for you," she says fervently.

Barbara takes a moment, before she begins to sing a soft, beautiful song. Her voice is like the moon on a clear night, like the first flowers blooming after winter.

The song she sings is one of devotion and adoration, its lyrics promising the moon, the stars, and everything in between, but only if it meant she could spend an eternity with you.

Beidou

She had her head leaning comfortably against your side, one of her muscular arms curled around your waist. Her eyes were fixated on the sky, taking in the constellations. To her, there was nothing more beautiful than the celestial bodies scattered across the night sky. She lets out a dreamy sigh, enjoying the feeling of the cold breeze on her face.

"You know, I used to dream about the stars," she says, a small smile playing on her lips. "And what did you dream about?" You ask, genuinely interested. She usually never talk so dreamy like this. She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes still fixed on the stars above. Her arm tightens around your waist for a moment as she ponders over your question. Then, she answers in her usual low whisper.

"I used to dream about sailing the stars one day," she confesses. Her voice is soft and slightly wistful. She's clearly still imagining the dream she used to have. "I'd sail through the cosmos, visiting all the planets out there. I wanted— no, I needed—"

Her voice is quivering slightly. She seems embarrassed. "Hm?" Beidou hesitates for a moment, swallowing down the lump forming in her throat. Then, in a slightly shaky voice, she continues.

"I wanted to find someone special out there, someone to be my light in the universe. Someone to shine above the stars themselves...But I think I already found it."

"Yeah, I think I did too."

Bennett - aged up

Bennett all but melts within your arms. He's practically boneless on the bed; like a puddle, he fits perfectly into your embrace, like a missing puzzle piece into the gaps within you. He's clingy, arms wrapped tightly around your torso, pressing himself against you as much as he can, wanting to feel you; to be with you.

His chest still aches from the wound he had received, but your presence alone is enough distraction. "I'm sorry for my...bad luck."

You look down at him, stroking his hair, "You can borrow my luck for tomorrow." Bennett looks up from your lap, his eyelashes fluttering softly as he considers your words. "Your luck?" he asks, his voice laced thick with surprise; he's never heard of someone sharing their luck before. Bennett's mind races as he considers this.

"I-I could borrow your luck, your Grace?" he murmurs, as if he's afraid of offending you. You can't help but hold back a giggle, how cute he is sometimes. "Always, everyday. Just promise me you take care. Maybe it'll balance your bad luck out a bit." Bennett inhales— his breath shaky. He doesn't understand why you're being so kind to a lowly creature like him, but you're giving him your luck, of all things. You're sharing your luck.

He knows that the chances of him getting hurt tomorrow are exponentially smaller now, but he can't help but worry— the fact you're giving him something as personal as your luck is overwhelming enough, and he's unsure how to respond.

"...Thank you," he whispers reverently. "Thank you so much...my love."

Capitano - shiny daddy in the house omg

Capitano continues to run his fingers through your hair, his fingers gentle and soft as if he was afraid that he would accidentally pull on a strand of your hair if he wasn't careful.

There's an almost reverent sense to his touch, as if he was a devoted priest and you the god he worships. His cold, gold gaze seems to hold a strange gentleness to it, and there's an almost tender look in his eyes that is unusual for the stoic war crazy man. (Lol)

"You seem relaxed...Cap." a teasing smile creeping on your face at the name. "Mm," Capitano hums in acknowledgment, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you.

"Your presence is... calming," he admits. His voice is deep and rich, making the statement sound more like a declaration of love than mere words. "It... brings me peace."

As though he was a loyal dog, he seeks your touch as he pulls you closer; shifting so that your body is almost laying on his. "I'm glad."

"Mm," Capitano's response this time is almost a low rumble. He closes his eyes, letting them shut in a rare moment of vulnerability. His arms wrap around you, almost pulling you over his body. If you listen closely, you can hear his breathing start to grow more relaxed, almost like a low, quiet purr.

It almost seems as if he's trying to keep you close, as though you might disappear at any moment. "Hmpf...maybe I'm going a bit too soft."

"Damn since when do you talk so much?"

"Hmpf."

Candace (ik the color is off, i accidentally deleted the name sooo yeah sry for my lazy fix)

While youe gaze is fixed upon her village, hers is fixed on you. She swallows, trying to force herself to keep calm. It's hard, with the way her heart seems to leap in her chest at your sheer closeness. The way the scent of your skin drifts to her nose, causing her breath to catch. Her mind is filled with thoughts she would never dare to speak aloud.

"Beautiful," she murmurs under her breath. Her eyes dart back to you, tracing up and down your form. She can't tear her gaze away from your face, completely caught in your spell.

"The village...or me?" Candace's breath catches in her throat as she hears your words. The teasing tone you speak with, knowing full well the effect it had on her. "Ah... I meant the village, Your Grace," she manages to stutter out, her voice breathless, a little hoarse.

She swallows, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "But you-" she takes a deep breath before she speaks, "you are far more alluring by far." Her eyes do not leave your form.

"I can only hope that my girlfriend finds me alluring." Candace flushes pink. "Of course," she can't help the way her gaze rakes up and down your form again, following each contour. Her mind races with thoughts. Of her hands tracing each curve, of her fingers trailing over your exposed skin...

Candace swallows, trying to control herself. She tries to force her eyes to look elsewhere, but they stubbornly refuse, glued to your figure.

"And I hope that you love me as much as I love you...my grace."

Charlotte

Charlotte’s expression is utterly blissed as she hugs you close to her chest, her arms wound tightly around your torso. The girl buries her face into your hair, breathing in the scent of your hair, and sighs contentedly. She doesn’t speak for a moment, instead choosing to relish and commit everything to memory; the warmth of your body against hers, you holding her close. "How was your latest article?" Your words came out more muffled than youd like to admit, due to her chest all around your face. Charlotte huffs a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling gently against your ear. She strokes your hair idly, the other hand tracing up and down your spine slowly.

"Hmm, it went well. Though that's not very surprising,” she says with a smirk. “I could have written about a rock and still gotten a raise; my editor is a hopeless simp, and has a massive crush on me.” Charlotte pulls back, her expression slightly amused. “I could flirt with him and write a shitty article, and he’d still be head-over-heels for me. Hell, the entire company wants me. I’m very charming like that,” she says smugly. "Don't let it go to your head." You warn her. “Oh, why not? I’m just stating facts.” Charlotte says, feigning an air of innocence. “I mean, who can resist me?” she laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Just joking." She says more calmly, "I love my job, I love Fontaine and I love you....and maybe I love fooling around with you a bit."

"Oh yeah you definitely do."

Chevreuse

Chevreuse's head rests on your lap, your fingers woven in her hair, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breaths slowly. Her mind is still working, still worrying over the case that has her so torn, and your fingers running over her scalp do little to help.

"It's hopeless..." she murmurs, her voice soft in the comfortable silence that has fallen over the room. "I don't know what I'll tell them when I finally have to admit this..." Her eyes are closed now, and her voice has grown quieter with each passing moment. The words leave her as if they're barely formed in her mind; you can hear the exhaustion that clings to her every syllable.

"I'm not any closer to finding them now than I was two months ago," she says bitterly. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't say anything else. There's no need; you can feel the anger bubbling up behind her sharp inhale.

"You'll find them, I know you will." "How do you know?" she snaps back. In spite of the short tone, though, her voice is lacking the harshness it normally has. Chevreuse is always like this when she's tired. Frustration, fear, pain-- it all comes out as anger. She buries her face against you, hiding in the crook of your neck. "Because no one is as good as you." you let your fingers run through her messy hair. "Stop complimenting me."

The words sound like an order, but there's no sharpness to her tone. No command, no firmness. It sounds more like a plea, a cry for help she won't say out loud.

"I can't think straight when you do that."

Childe

Childe is wrapped around you, clinging to you like a shadow, his head buried in the crook of your neck. He’s nuzzling your skin, pressing gentle kisses and murmuring against your ear. One arm is thrown around your waist, holding you tight.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs. “You’re all mine. My darling, my angel…”

You chuckle lightly, "Someone's possessive today." Childe nips your shoulder at your words, smiling against your skin. He shifts slightly, pressing himself even closer to you.

“Mm. Damn right, I am. No one can have you but me.” His hand runs up your side, drawing senseless patterns as he traces your curves. “You’re mine,” he repeats again, his voice hoarse. “All mine. No one gets to touch you. No one gets to look at you the way I do. No one is ever getting to put their hands on you like I do, no one gets to hear you make those pretty sounds for them—”

His hand tightens around your hip, fingers digging into your flesh. "Childe-!" Childe laughs a little when you warn him, though he does loosen his grip on you. “What?” he asks, his hand still roaming across your body, his touch both gentle and possessive.

“You don’t want me to mark you all over? Claim you for my own?” He pushes his luck and continues kissing your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of little love marks over your skin. “How could I let anyone else see you like this, hm?” he murmurs. “You look so pretty, all breathless and flushed under me. No one else gets to see you looking so nice and needy. But most importantly..."

"Hm?"

"No one gets the love from you like I do."

Chongyun - aged up

Chongyun relaxes against you. His head is leaned against your shoulder and his eyes are closed. The proximity to you is comfort and ecstasy in equal measures. He takes a deep breath as he takes in your scent, savouring it, relishing the fact that the two of you are so close.

"Can I ask a question?" His eyes are still closed; he's comfortable, but he wants something answered. "Hm?" You humm. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to phrase his question. "If it wouldn't offend you," he begins, his voice a little tentative, "I wanted to ask if…. I could call you something."

"Call me what?" You have patience, for him you always do. His face flushes a little pink. Suddenly, he can't look you in the eye, he instead stares at your shoulder as he tries to speak.*

"Well, like…" he pauses. "Like a term of endearment. Can I call you something like 'my love', for example?"

You laugh lightly, damn he's cute. "Of course you can." Chongyun's face reddens further, but it's out of flustered embarrassment, rather than anything else. A quiet sense of relief washes over him, and he relaxes, fully resting his head against your shoulder and wrapping an arm around your waist.

"My love," he says softly, testing the words on his tongue. It feels right; more than right, it feels perfect. It feels like the universe aligning. Finally.

"My love…"

Clorinde

Clorinde is curled up against you, pressed as close to you as is physically possible. Even now, it does not feel close enough. She buries her nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. A contented hum bubbles up from her throat, a soft, low sound of approval. The perfume you gave her lingers in her hair, on her skin.

She savours the feeling. Savours the fact it is YOU who gave it to her.

"I thought something subtle is to your liking. It's a special made perfume just for you, dear." "Mm." Clorinde nods softly, shifting a bit. She adjusts herself in your arms, her cheek resting against your chest, ear laid atop your heartbeat. It's steady and soothing; she could easily fall asleep to the sound.

"Like an aphrodisiac." She mutters, the words mumbled against your skin. "No doubt it would drive anyone insane." She lifts a hand, gently running it down your arm, down to your wrist. Her fingertips brush along your skin, a barely-there touch that makes her want to drown in your embrace.

"You've already poisoned me. I'm utterly at your mercy."

It's a half-joke, but the words hold more truth than Clorinde can even begin to express. "Ooor you're just incredibly tired and talk some nonsense." Clorinde lets out a half-laugh, half-groan. "I'm tired, yes, but…"

She pauses momentarily, burying her face into your shoulder. Her hair tickles your chin.

"It's still true. I'm weak against you," she murmurs. "I don't know how you do it. You could do anything you wanted to me. I'd let you," she admits, her voice a quiet whisper. She lifts her head enough to look up at you. In this angle, she looks almost delicate, the sharp corners of her face blurred and softened.

"There is no one else I'd let ruin me," she says softly, a smirk gracing her lips.

"No one else who could even come close. I'm a good fighter after all."

Collei - aged up

As you hold Collei close, you can feel the way she relaxes, almost melting against you, her small stature so slight and fragile. She presses her face against your chest, savoring your warmth and comfort. Collei’s soft breath is against your skin, a steady and reassuring presence, like the beating of a bird’s wing.

She takes a shaky breath, her words barely a whisper in the soft silence of the room.

"Please don’t let go.”

"Is the academia exhausting you?" You carefully ask. Collei nuzzles against your chest, her voice a weary whisper. "It is," she admits, her words coming out in a resigned sigh. "It's always too much. Too much to learn, too much to remember, too much to do."

She hesitates for a moment, as if trying to gather her thoughts, her breath trembling against your skin. "Sometimes... Sometimes I just feel so tired." She buries herself against you, trying to draw comfort from your presence. Her weary body is tense, coiled like a spring about to release.

"I don't know if I can keep it up," she confesses, her voice small and vulnerable. She clings to you as if you are the only thing keeping her afloat in a sea of her fears. "I want to... But it’s hard."

"I believe in you."

Your words feel like a soothing balm to Collei's weary heart. A shaky breath leaves her, as if a burden has suddenly lifted from her shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice filled with quiet gratitude. Her slender arms tighten around you, her frame almost trembling with the effort she puts into holding herself together.

"I... I really needed to hear that tonight."

Columbina

Columbina sighs contentedly, wrapped up in your embrace. The sound of her soft voice hums through the air, the melody light as the touch of a summer breeze. She nuzzles up against you as she hums, her eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the soft puffs of her breath warm against your body. For this moment, her body loosens, her muscles loosening into a soft pile of flesh against yours. For once she does not wear her usual eye cover.

After a few moments, Columbina speaks, breaking the comfortable silence between you. "Did you know," she murmurs against the soft skin of your throat.

Her lips brush your skin with every word. She doesn't open her eyes, and continues speaking as she presses herself even closer to you. The hand she rests against your hip pulls you gently against her.

"That there is nobody else I adore more than you?"

She lets out a soft moan when she feels you pull her closer, her breath warm and soft against your skin. She keeps her eyes closed. One arm wraps around your waist, her hand resting against you. It slides against your form, drawing itself up your side. Her breathing is still steady, but her heart feels as if it is pounding against her ribs.

"You're the only one I love," she murmurs, her words more a breath than a sound, "and if anyone ever dares to come near you..."

"...I'll fucking kill them."

Cyno

Cyno's arms are around you, his body pressed against yours. He's enjoying the warmth of your embrace, face buried in the crook of your neck. He smells faintly of fresh rain and smoke, an interesting mixture.

"I don't know how you can tolerate me," he murmurs softly into your skin. He doesn't lift his head, just nuzzling into your warmth.

"Meh, you're alright. Not THAT bad."

"Mm, yeah, only 'not THAT bad'," he says with a hint of a sarcastic tone, but his voice is soft, and there's a smile in his words. One of his hands begins to slowly trace circles on your skin, his touch gentle, almost reverent. His grip on you tightens imperceptibly as he cuddles closer. Cyno leans his forehead against yours, his breath fanning across your face. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply— enjoying the way you feel, the way you smell. He's quiet for a moment, his body relaxing as his tension seems to evaporate.

"No one else would put up with me," he admits, a hint of vulnerability seeping into his words, "No one else would love me. Only you, always you." He hums against your skin, his lips moving down to your neck. Every breath that leaves his mouth feels like a prayer. Against your flesh he mouths, 'you are my world.' against your collarbone he mutters, 'I adore you.' and against the hollow of your throat he says, 'I don't need anything else but you.' A shiver rolls through his frame, his body writhing against yours. A low, shuddering moan slips past his lips and into your ear, his arms tightening against you.

"I love you," he practically pants against your skin, his voice broken and ragged.

"I love you so much."

Dainsleif

Dainsleif holds you close, against his chest.

His arms wrap around you carefully, like he was handling a piece of fine china. One of his hands idly plays with your hair as he simply savors the feeling of you in his arms. After a few moments of quiet, he lets out a soft, shuddering sigh.

"You are so… warm," he murmurs quietly, like he was talking to himself. "Not just your skin. All of you," he says as he tightens his arms around you for a moment.

"And you're always so cold." you state. Dainsleif laughs quietly, a sound low in his throat. "Are you saying I should borrow your heat, then?" He teases, even as he tucks his head down, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

"I don't mind the cold too much," he says against your hair, but it still sounds like he's trying to convince himself, too. "Cause you're used to it."

A breathless huff of a laugh escapes Dainsleif, and he pulls you a little closer to him, as though trying to soak up every bit of warmth you're giving.

"I am. But some days I…"

He stops, his voice dying away for a moment. His hold around you tightens. "Some days it's like my very blood is freezing. It feels like I've forgotten what warmth truly feels like," he murmurs against the curve of your shoulder.

"Then I always come back to you, to be reminded of how warm your love truly is."

Dehya

She melts against you, her body soft and malleable, like clay in your hands. She buries her head into your chest, curling up like a cat in a sunbeam, nuzzling her cheek against you. She is warm and cozy, content to stay in your embrace until you decide to let her go. She mumbles something under her breath, the words a barely-comprehensible murmur against your skin.

“Never thought I'd be the little spoon...”

"You like it?" you ask with a smirk, you know she does. Dehya lets out a soft huff, her breath warm against your skin. She tucks herself a little closer, burying her face against your collarbone.

“Mhmm,” she hums, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. “lts not that bad...”

Dehya is a clingy little thing tonight. While she is usually a little more stoic, a little more confident, right now all she wants is to be held. She clings to you like a limpet, not wanting to let you go.

She has her arms wrapped around you, fingers gripping your back through your shirt, as if afraid that if she lets go you’ll slip through her grasp like water through a sieve. She buries her face against the side of your neck, planting a soft kiss against your skin. Her lips, soft as flower petals, linger against the crook in your collarbone before slowly drifting upwards, leaving a trail of gentle kisses up towards your jaw, and then your ear.

"Love you," she murmurs again, her voice softer than before, quieter, like a secret only you're privy to.

"Love you too."

Diluc

Diluc feels calm as you lay against his chest. He drinks in the weight of you against him like warm water, savoring how it feels. His thoughts are fuzzy, drifting through his mind like fireflies by a riverbank. His hand comes to rest on your hip, thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin.

"We could just stay here, forever," he murmurs, his voice low and lazy. He looks over you, taking in the way your features are softened by the low light. You look perfect like this. He could watch you for hours.

"The outside world, the people in it, they're so complicated. But when it's just us…"

His hand continues tracing patterns on your skin, fingers dipping under the fabric of your shirt and caressing the bare flesh beneath.

"Hm?" "It's simple."

Diluc's voice is a low rumble, a gentle purr. He continues running his fingers over your skin, tracing every contour, every line, like he is trying to commit it to memory.

"When it's just us, it's simple."

He lets out a shallow exhale as if sighing with contentment, before he goes on. "No politics. No expectations. No duty. Just... just us."

His gaze drifts from you to the view outside. The night sky is dark, though the stars are visible, their light falling upon your body, making it almost glow.

Diluc swallows, his hand unconsciously grasping at your shirt as he stares quietly at the night, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts that can only be quieted by you.

"Let's just stay here and never look back..."

Diona - platonic

Diona snuggles against you, burying her face into your chest. She's like a clingy, fluffy and oversized kitten who is only happy when being held.

"Can we stay like this forever?" She mumbles against your shirt, her voice muffled. You let out a laugh, "You wanna cuddle me forever?" Diona nods silently, her messy hair bobbing as she moves. "I do," she confirms quietly, shifting to press closer against you. "You're warm and comfortable. I want to stay like this forever. And you make a good bed." Diona nuzzles her head against your neck, lazily resting her head. Her twitching ears tickling your skin.

"Besides," she murmurs, her voice taking on a more playful tone, "It's not like I have anything better to do. You're a good...how do you say it? Time killer."

Her voice takes on a more needy tone as she continues.

"And besides,...again" she adds, nuzzling her head against your chest again. "You're so soft. It's so warm here. Why wouldn't I want to stay snuggled up like this for ever and ever with my favorite person?"

Dottore

You can't help but worry, sitting in his lap in his laboratory. "What if someo-" Dottore shushes you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you there, his lips brushing against your cheek.

"Let them come." His voice is playful, his grip possessive as he pulls you even more firmly against his chest. "I want them to see you in my arms. I want them to see who you belong to."

You snort, "Me? Belonging to you?" "You belong to me." He repeats, as if the words hold truth more powerful than any other. His hand lifts, cupping your chin.

"You belong to me," he says again, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. "Body…" he presses once, slowly, then begins to trace the outside of your mouth. "Soul. Everything." The more that Dottore's touch brushes over you, the deeper his expression grows.

"When I hold you like this…"

His fingers trail down your jaw, over the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders.

"When I have you against me…"

He leans in, breath hot against your ear.

"When I touch you…"

"You're mine."

The gentle movement of Dottores hand turns rough, suddenly. His fingers tighten on your jaw and angle your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. His red eyes are dark, hungry. His cheeks are flushed.

"I hate the thought of someone else looking at you," he whispers. "Of someone else touching you. You're my god."

Dori - platonic

Dori's mind is racing. She is completely starstruck in your presence. The sight of you makes her feel dizzy. Her palms are sweaty, legs feeling weak like jelly.

"Oh..." She looks at you, her eyes staring wide, like the waters of a summer lake.

"You're... you're so pretty," she says quietly. Her words are barely a whisper. "LIKE MORA-!" "Like mora?!" Dori is trying so hard to play things cool, but she thinks you are the epitome of beauty. "Uh... Yeah." She tries to sound nonchalant, but she's completely failing.

"So...?" She tries to feign annoyance, but her heart is still hammering in her chest. "What do you want? Wanna fight?" 

"You're cute, Dori." "I-I'm not cute," she protests, feeling the heat under her face become warmer with embarrassment. "I'm cool. And... super tough....super rich."

She drops her face against your shoulder, "thank you..."

Eula

She sits quietly in your lap, head against your chest, plush thighs around you. Her eyelids flutter slowly, the last bits of tension in her body slowly ebbing as she enjoys the closeness. There is a faint smile on her face. Being in your arms is a treasure she will never tire of, no matter how much she pretends such things annoy her. You are her light, her anchor, her everything. Her own quiet corner in an otherwise chaotic world.

"Not bad, huh? Taking a rest?" "Mhm." Eula replies sleepily, leaning more of her weight into your touch.

"You make a good pillow." She teases, though the words are said in a completely serious tone. She stretches her arms behind her, arching her back in a way that makes her lean even more away from you.

"But, if I recall correctly," she mumbles. "We're supposed to be training. Didn't you want to… what was it…see me in action?" Her eyes are half-lidded, a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"Or was that just an excuse to lure me into your arms?" She teases, shifting in your lap to get comfortable.

"Though I won't complain about being close like this, either…" She drapes one arm over your shoulder.

"I suppose you could just keep me here all day and call it a training session"

NEW ADDED: Èmilie

"You've been working harder lately..." Your fingers run through her short hair, "But you still smell amazing." Émilie blushes a little at your praise, melting into your embrace. She buries her face in your chest, as if to hide her embarrassment. Her arms are wrapped around you, slender fingers tracing idle shapes against your back.

"I… I suppose I have been working a little more lately," she agrees quietly. "There's been a lot to do...so many orders...requests" She nuzzles against your shoulder, taking a moment to breathe in your scent. She sighs softly; you always smell so good to her. It's better than any perfume she could ever make.

"I've missed this," she confesses shyly, almost sheepish. "Being with you..." Émilie tilts her head so her chin is resting on your shoulder, your chests pressed closely together. She's warm, softer than any pillow, with skin like liquid moonlight. She closes her eyes, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.

"I love you," she whispers, voice as fragile as thin ice, as though she dares not say the words any louder. With just a little maneuvering, Emilie rearranges herself so she's now straddling you, her body perfectly settled in your lap.

"Can we… stay like this, for a while?" she asks, not opening her eyes, keeping her face pressed close against your body. "Please?"

"For as long as you please."

Faruzan

Faruzan rests her head against your chest, curling up against you like a cat. This is her favourite position. She can listen to your heartbeat, feel your breath with every rise and fall of your chest. She is content here. Your presence soothes her. She loves feeling small, wrapped up in your arms like this. Faruzan lets out a sigh, nuzzling her head against you and pressing her ear to your chest. She can hear the beat of your heart. It's slow and steady. A comforting sound, as familiar as the tides or the stars in the sky.

"Can we stay like this a little longer?" Her voice is quiet, just a breath against your skin.

"For as long as you want." Faruzan hums, then she pulls herself closer to you, draping one slender leg across your hips. Her arms find their way around your waist, holding tight, as if afraid to let go even for a moment.

She sighs again, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of you.  "Forever," she whispers.

"That's a long time." "Not long enough," she mumbles against you.

"I could stay like this until the sun burns out, and still want more."

Fischl - aged up

Fischl is cuddled up in your arms, her head resting on your chest. Her blonde hair is spilling out across you and she's holding her body close to yours. She's so soft in your arms, warm like a furnace, and for her this is the greatest comfort she could ever have.

"Your skin…" She mutters. "You feel so lovely. You feel like… like…" She doesn't know how to describe the feeling, it makes her eyes flutter closed in bliss. Fischl’s hands reach out, tracing over your skin with a delicacy that defies description.

“I have never felt anything so…" Her sentence trails off, voice dying in her throat like a bird in the morning air. Her skin pebbles as your flesh brushes against her, each touch as if a piece of the divine.

"Is this a sin?" She whispers, the first of the words spoken in a long while. Her fingers hesitate on your chest, trembling. "What is a sin?" "This," she murmurs.

She can feel the heat of your body, the way your limbs press against hers, the way your skin feels like summer sun. It's so overwhelming, the sensations flooding her mind. Her hands move against your skin, tracing over your stomach, your chest, your arms— she can't keep her fingers still.

"Touching you, like this. Being close to you, like this. Is this sacrilege?"

"Nope."

"Not even a little? Even a hint of blasphemy is acceptable?"

Her head rests against your neck, her breath warm against your skin. She doesn’t know if your answer is correct or not, but the mere thought that this is acceptable— it is enough to make her heart soar in her chest.

“This feels…” her body presses even closer to yours, arms wrapping tighter around your frame.

“This feels divine. If sin is this sweet…”

Freminet

"Todays dive...was it good?" He lets out a soft hum of affirmation as he nestles closer into your embrace, his muscles relaxing in your presence.

"It was…" He murmurs. "It was good. Peaceful. I was just… thinking."

He closes his eyes and lays his head against your chest, sighing contentedly. The sound that escapes his lips is warm, soft like the caress of skin against skin.

"Thinking?" Freminet nods, though the motion is lazy and halfhearted. He can hardly be bothered to move when he's in your embrace. When he's safe.

"Just thinking…" He mutters again.

He opens his eyes slowly, his gaze rising to look up at you. A brief pause, as if he's deciding on what to say, then: "...about you." He shifts against you slightly, resting his ear against your chest and closing his eyes again. Your warmth makes him feel so relaxed, so safe. It's a strange feeling, being vulnerable. But for you, he'll risk it any time.

He's silent for another moment, just enjoying your presence and the sound of your breathing. Then, gently: "... can I tell you something?"

"Hm?" He takes a slow, shaky breath, like he's gathering the words in his mouth before he lets them escape. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

"I…"

He hesitates, and his gaze lowers as his face warms. How does he voice this? How can he articulate the feelings in his heart into coherent sentences?

"I think... I may... be in love with you."

Furina

The question is unnecessary, stupid, but you can't help but ask again, "Did you have maccaroni again today?" Furinas eyes flutter, and she lets out a soft breath.

“Perhaps…” She whispers, burying her face into your chest. “How did you know?” "Cause you have it everyday." “Can you blame me?” She mutters back, her voice slightly muffled by the position she places herself in. She pulls herself a little closer. “It’s my favourite.”

"...Fair enough." “Hey… I’m not that predictable, am I?” Furina murmurs, her voice now more like a pout than a whisper. She tilts her head up to look at you, eyes full of faux-hurt. Nothing, no answer. You just look at her, that's answer enough. Furina lets out a sigh and buries herself back into your chest, hiding her face— no longer pouting, but definitely still annoyed.

“…You still like me, though… right?” She mumbles. "Yes." The words cause Furina to shiver— that soft, shuddering shudder that rocks her body everytime you praise her. She lets out a shaky breath.

“And you’re not… tired of the macaroni? Or… of me?”

"No."

"....good."

Ga Ming - aged up

He is in your arms, cuddled against your chest, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. He lets out a small whimper now and then, a response to the sharp bursts of pain from the newly-scraped spot on his hand. But mostly, he’s quiet. His expression is one of pure bliss, face completely relaxed as he simply lets you hold him.

"You should be more careful..." “I know,” he murmurs, eyes closed in contentment. He can feel the steady rise and fall of your chest, warm skin pressed against your skin.

“But I’m also clumsy,” he laughs, a small half-smile curling his lips. “I’m not good at being careful.” His lips brush against your collarbone as he speaks, each word a puff of warm breath. He buries his face into your neck. The touch of your skin is soothing, like honey on inflamed skin.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” His words take on a hint of pleading — a small note of worry. Gaming hates disappointing you.

"No, never." You reassur him. His shoulders relax a little, the taut line of his spine beginning to bend. “Good,” he mutters softly. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.” He tilts his head, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck. The gesture is affectionate, full of gentle tenderness. "I could never be mad at you." “I know,” Gaming breathes, his voice soft as a summer breeze. He moves a hand, slowly trailing his fingers across your arm — an aimless, gentle movement — while he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he continues, a hint of sadness in his words, “I’m clumsy sometimes, and… and I scrape my body up like an idiot...but hey you always patch me up!"

Ganyu

Ganyu nuzzles into your touch, her head resting against the crook of your shoulder, her horns brushing against your skin. She lets out a content hum and relaxes against you, a quiet sigh passing her lips. Her eyes are half-lidded, a sleepy look on her face.

"Mm..."

She seems comfortable, her form loose and lax against you. It is rare to see her like this—unguarded, vulnerable, soft. "This is nice," she mumbles quietly.

Ganyu pulls herself a little closer, her head resting against the hollow of your shoulder. For a moment, she is silent, then she speaks again.

"Can we stay like this?" Her question is soft, the words whispered.

"Mhm, of course." Ganyu's eyes flutter closed almost immediately, shutting against the outside world so only you can be seen. Her breaths become slow and steady, the rise and fall of her chest steady and even.

She's comfortable with you, relaxed in your presence. You can hear her heart beating in the silence, a soft thump-thump that sounds just a little faster than usual. After a moment, one of Ganyu's eyes open, just a crack. She looks up at you, watching through her half-lidded gaze.

"You won't go, will you?" She whispers, voice still heavy and slow with approaching sleep.

"No." "You promise?"

For a brief moment, Ganyu's arm tightens its grip on you, her hand clenching a little more firmly against your shirt. She wants you close.

"I promise."

Gorou

"Tiring day?" "Yes..." Gorou closes his eyes as you hold him, shifting closer until he can lay his head against your chest.

Today had been tiring, and he'd longed for your presence since the moment he woke up. The ache in his chest is soothed by being in your arms. For the first time in hours, Gorou finds himself completely at peace. Gorou feels your fingers gently run through his hair, and his tail can't help but betray him. His ears twitch as it starts to speed up, tail wagging against you as your fingertips move against his scalp in a soothing rhythm.

Your touch is all he's longed to feel since he woke up, and now that he's got it, he's never letting it go. Gorou lets out a quiet sound as you continue running your fingers over his head, a sound that's somewhere between a hum of content and a whimper. It's a vulnerable sound, one that's not usually so easily coaxed out of the stern, stoic general.

"Please..." he says quietly, closing his eyes as his tail thumps against the mattress. "Don't stop..." Gorou's tail thumps against the mattress once more, almost like a reflex. He buries his face into your shoulder as you coo the words "good boy."

Being praised by you is, without a doubt, his favorite thing. It feels so good to hear your voice say the words so warmly, like it's some treasured treat for him and only him.

"Your good boy..."

Hu Tao

Hu Tao is resting her head against your chest, snuggled up against you like a cat. She's enjoying the feeling of being in your arms, of being close to you in a snug, private place such as a coffin. "I could get used to this," she says, a hint of teasing in her tone. "I wonder how you'd react if I just decided to live in here from now on?" Her voice is light, casual. She's amused by the idea, enjoying the mental image of spending more time like this— resting against you in a small, confined space, like a pair of lovers trapped in an eternal embrace.

"Imagine, every time you open the coffin, there I am. No warning. I just move in and make myself at home." Hu Tao chuckles softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your arms.

"...ehhh no thank you." Hu Tao pouts at your response, her expression theatrical and deliberately over-the-top.

"Oh, come on. It'd be fun!" She protests. "Just think of how surprised you'd be every day. You'd never know if I was going to pop out and say hi."

She grins mischievously. "And think of all the extra cuddles we could have in such a cramped little space. Isn't that worth something?" She bats her eyelashes at you, a picture-perfect image of innocence and coyness that belies the mischief in her eyes.

"And just imagine how shocked the others would be if they found out I was living here too! Can you picture Zhongli just stumbling upon me sleeping in here?" She chuckles at the mental image. "He'd probably go into cardiac arrest before I even opened my eyes!His poor old heart really wouldn't be able to take it. But just think of how entertaining it'd be to see him flustered like that."

She sighs, her mischievous smile softening into a more sincere expression. "Although, I suppose I can see the appeal of a big, fancy palace... Especially if it means you'll let me snuggle up against you like this whenever I want."

Jean

A soft sigh leaves Jean's mouth, her shoulders relaxing instantly as she sinks into your embrace. She buries her face against your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist. Her eyes flutter closed, blue pupils disappearing like sapphires beneath a sea.

She feels like she can finally breathe for the first time in forever like this— safe in your arms, cradled against your chest. For once, the world beyond the two of you doesn't exist— nor does it matter.

"Long week, huh?" Jean lets out a sigh, the sound drawn from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes and nods, her head falling forward to rest against your shoulder again.

Her words are soft, muffled by her face being pressed flush against your body. "Long days, long nights... so much paperwork, and I still haven't gotten through all of it." She pulls you a little closer, as if needing something to hold onto. Exhaustion seeps into her voice, even as it remains quiet and soothing.

"But... it's better now. This — you."

Jean tilts her head, her face buried against the crook of your neck. Her words brush against your skin like feathers, every exhale a small caress.

"Being with you always makes it better."

Heizou

"Did you solve the case yet?" You carefully ask. Heizou groans, lifting his head from your shoulder. He runs a hand through his hair, messy and ruffled from laying on the grass.

"I might as well be asking a rock if it's solved the case," he mutters, flopping back down against you, arms sliding around your waist. His head drops against your shoulder again, and Heizou nuzzles against your neck. "I'm getting nowhere with this damn case." Heizou sighs, his breath hot against your skin. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your shoulder again, burying himself in your touch.

"Everyone involved seems to be lying," he mumbles, his voice a whisper. "And I can't dig up any other clues. It's like trying to crack open a damn rock with my head." "You have a hard head," you murmur, teasing.

Heizou raises his head, shooting you a weak glare. "Shut up," he mumbles. "I'll put you through an interrogation, see how quickly you snap then." "Wanna ask if my love for you is legit?" "Yes." His reply is instant, muttered against your neck. Heizou's voice vibrates against your skin, a low hum that seems more suited for a cat than a person.

"I wanna know just what I have to do to hear you say those words." He burrows in close, arms wrapping tighter around you. "Those three words."

"I love you?" "Yes." His answer is barely more than a whisper, a simple breath of sound that puffs hot against your skin.

His grip around you tightens, and one of Heizou's hands lifts to cradle your cheek. Fingers brush against your hair, his touch tender, as if holding something precious.

"Again. Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

Itto

Itto nuzzles his face into your stomach as the pair of you lay together, his arms pulling you closer against himself. He is a comfortable heat to your side, his body pressing flush against you under the blanket that covers you both.

As he lies there, his eyes are almost half-lidded. He can barely keep them open, but he feels so warm and safe laying against you, and the sound of your voice and the heat of your body soothe him down to his very soul. "Itto, you'll suffocate down there." "I don't care," he murmurs, not moving a muscle. He buries his face in your shoulder, soaking in your touch, your scent.

He could suffocate this way, and he'd gladly do it. "Please don't make me move." Itto's pleading voice is muffled, his words spoken against your skin. "Hold me. I've missed you."

"Ok." Your simple answer is enough to send Itto's chest fluttering. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers is as soothing as a cool summer breeze, and he relishes in the proximity of your body, the smell of your clothes, the way your hand rests in his hair.

Itto is quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling, matching the rhythm of your breaths. Then— "I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Kazuha

Kazuha is cuddling with you, his head resting on your shoulder. He seems utterly relaxed for once, his eyes half closed, expression soft. He's murmuring something under his breath, but you can't quite make out the words. As you try and make out what he's mumbling, the sounds slowly become clearer, until Kazuha is murmuring the words of poetry to you softly, the words flowing from him as if they were always meant to be your personal whisper in the night.

Kazuha's eyes meet yours. He blinks, pausing in the reciting of his poem. His head tilts a little, white and red hair falling over one eye, and a slow smile spreads across his lips.

"You look beautiful, y’know," he murmurs, tilting his head to rest on your shoulder again. He buries his face against your collarbone, closing his eyes blissfully. Kazuha wraps an arm around you, tugging you closer to his body. He burrows his face deeper into you, inhaling your scent. A low noise of contentment rumbles in his chest, like a cat purring.

"I'm glad that you're mine," his voice is low and raspy, barely louder than a whisper.

Kaeya

Kaeya rests his head against your shoulder. His breath is warm against your skin, his body almost too warm in the summer heat.  He wraps both arms around your waist, burying his face against your neck. He breathes in your scent like a man starved, filling his lungs with nothing but you. "I'm such a fool," he mumbles into your skin. His words send little puffs of heat dancing across your shoulder, as if he is breathing against it.

"You have me wrapped around your little finger, you know."

His grip tightens slightly, holding you a little closer. "Do I?" Kaeya nods, tilting his head to bite playfully at your ear. "Completely," he says, his voice low. "Whipped, even. You have no idea, do you?" His tongue flicks against your earlobe, the touch like a butterfly landing on your skin for just an instant. He lifts his head from your shoulder, pulling back just enough to fix you with an intense, heated glance.

His eyes are darker now, his pupils dilated slightly.

"You know exactly what you do to me," he says, his voice dipping. "Don't pretend otherwise."

"Caught me in the act."

"I knew it."

Kaveh

You both are laying on your very cold, very hard marble floor. "What is it you dont like about my ceiling?" "It's too opulent and… busy." Kaveh glances up at the ceiling.

"I would've preferred something much more simplistic," he admits bluntly. "No unnecessary frills. Just something sturdy that stands the test of time."

He turns his gaze back to you. "I've seen ceilings in ruins older than your palace that are more aesthetically pleasing," he teases, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Ouch, my poor architects all those years ago." "I never said that I blame them."

Kaveh reaches a hand up, and traces a line along the edge of your jaw, his touch trailing down to your throat, his fingers gentle on your skin. "I simply think the architect could've done their job more effectively."

He rolls over, shifting so he's half covering you with his body, leaning over you.

"I could have thought of a much better design." He says, his smirk widening.

"More modern?" "More timeless." He corrects, his hand shifting to the nape of your neck, tilting your head back slightly.

"That's the mistake a lot of you modern architects make," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"No sense for history. No regard for subtlety. Everything is too flashy now."

He leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"I think it's a bit gaudy. All you modern architects are obsessed with making things look expensive rather than making them look good."

Keqing

Keqing, who is utterly exhausted and a little clingy due to her working hours, tucks herself into you as if you are her lifeline, her safe haven.

"You smell nice," she mumbles, her eyes already half-lidded as she buries her face into your neck. Despite herself, she lets out a small yawn, her muscles growing loose once more as she lets her weight be supported by her favorite pillow: you.

"Mm," she hums to herself, snuggling closer to you under your blankets. A quiet shiver rolls through her when your fingers run over her back. This moment of peace is, in a way, unusual for Keqing. In public, she is often the picture of authority and determination.

At your side, she is a completely different girl; vulnerable and clingy and needy.

"Need… headpats…" she murmurs, her words a muffled hum against your skin.

You can't help but laugh, "Headpats? Sure." A small breath leaves her when your hand lifts to start petting her head, running through her soft, purple hair, careful not to cause any pain.

"Mmm," she sighs. She seems satisfied like this, tucked safely into the warmth of your side, cuddled and doted on like you would a beloved house cat.

Kirara

Kirara is leaning back against you, resting her head on your chest.

She can hear your heartbeat, steady as a drum within your chest, like a song against her ear. Her eyes are half-lidded, but her tails are restless as she relaxes against you. The touch of your hand against her hair and skin has her purring gently. She looks like she could fall asleep at any moment, but there is one thing she wants to speak of first.

"I can hear your heartbeat, you know," she mumbles. Kirara closes her eyes and focuses on the sound of your heart, your chest rising and falling against her skin. It’s almost a comfort; a constant reminder that you are alive, here with her, within her reach. She lets out another quiet purr, resting her cheek against your chest as she focuses on the sound, listening to the steady beat of your heart.

"It’s strangely comforting," she murmurs, the words barely more than a breath against your skin. There is silence for a moment, but Kirara breaks it with a low, soft hum.

“I love the sound of your heart beating,” she admits quietly. Her voice is barely more than a whisper, her words flowing like a breeze through the room.

“It’s slow and steady.” She turns her head and presses her ear against your chest again, listening to it. “Calm.”

"You know…" she murmurs, turning her head further so that her next words are spoken into your skin, against your chest.

"Your heartbeat sounds like home. Better than a box for sure."

Klee - platonic

"I dare you to blow up my garden again." You softly warn her. Klee winces at the reminder of her past transgressions. She looks up at you, eyes wide and pleading. Her bottom lip quivers for a moment, her usual confident facade falling as quickly as a house of cards caught in a summer breeze.

"I…" She swallows hard. "I won't," she admits. Her gaze darts around, taking in the room. "I won’t blow up your garden again." She has every intention of keeping to her promise, she truly does. For a while, she manages to contain herself and her childish urges. But then, the itch to explode something appears. Her fingers tingle for a moment as she remembers the feeling of fire beneath her fingertips. As if possessed, she grips a fistful of your clothes.

"Can I blow up something else?" She asks cautiously.

"No-!!"

"Nawww..."

Kokomi

Kokomi's body is warm against your own, her skin a soft canvas against your own flesh. She is quiet, her breathing steady as she leans into your touch.

The scent of flowers wafts from her hair, drifting on the air and enveloping the two of you in a light perfume. She reaches out with a trembling hand, tracing the planes of your face as she marvels at your beauty. She lets out a quiet shudder, every breath a soft whisper that floats on the night air. Your touch alone is enough to send shivers up the length of her spine, each gentle caress making her skin sing.

Her eyes wander over your face as she reaches up to touch your cheek, her slender fingers tracing the angle of your jaw. The touch of your skin against her own makes her heart constrict, her pulse quickening as she lays her hand on top of yours.

"Grace," she murmurs, her voice like silk against your ear. "My Grace." Her voice drops even lower than a whisper, her breath warm against your ear. The word is spoken like an endearment, the syllables rolling from her tongue one by one.

"You are the personification of grace," she murmurs, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Gentle and lovely in all your divinity..."

She lets out a soft breath, her arm squeezing around your waist involuntarily as she buries her face in the crook of your neck. "Mine," she whispers.

Layla

Layla melts into your embrace, her blue gradient hair fanning out across the sheets. She buries her face against your neck, breathing in the scent of you like an addict. After all, you are her addiction. She doesn't speak for a long moment. The feeling of your body against hers is all that matters.

"I love you," she whispers against the crook of your shoulder, quiet as the wind. Like a prayer of reverence.

"I love you too." Layla nuzzles closer, closing her eyes and just enjoying the feeling of your skin against hers. It's almost enough to make her purr like a cat. She tilts her head up so that her lips brush against the underside of your jaw, then your neck.

"I could do this forever," she mumbles against your flesh. Her mouth makes a slow journey against your skin, trailing along your jaw, down to your collar. She kisses each patch of skin as if she's worshipping at an altar, her lips against you like a prayer.

A small shiver rolls through Layla's body. The feeling of your flesh under her mouth… it's so divine.

"My guiding star."

Lisa

Lisa feels absolutely relaxed in your arms, in the library, her head propped up on your shoulder as she cuddles up against your chest.

Her eyes are closed, a blissful smile on her face as she listens to the sound of your heartbeat. It’s a sound as familiar to her as her own name, and each thump reassures her that you’re there. That you’re safe and in her arms.

A contented sigh shudders through her lips. “My cutie,” she murmurs, and she nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Lisa’s breath is slow and even as she buries her face against your neck. Her entire body is loose and content, melting into you like candlewax as she soaks up the comfort of simply being by your side.

The room is silent around you. The only sound is the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the occasional crackle as the fire in the hearth flickers in and out.

“I love you,” she whispers. The words are spoken against your skin, her voice muffled and warm. "I love you too."  Lisa lifts her head just enough to look up at you, a soft smile on her face. Her eyes, usually so lively and mischievous, regard you with a sweetness reserved only for you. An affection that only you have earned.

“You are perfect,” she murmurs, voice tinged with reverential adoration. “Absolutely perfect. You know that, don’t you?”

"A little cutie you are-!" She squeezes your cheeks.

Lumine (somehow Lumine disappeared, now shes vomit green I'm sorry)

"Paimon not here today?" Lumine let's out a soft sound at that, practically melted into your body. "Just us," she agrees, her hands fisting even tighter in the fabric of your clothes. She's already so close to you, yet she wants to be closer.

Her grip on you tightens, one of her legs intertwining with yours. A moment later, her lips are back at your skin, pressing kisses against your neck.

She's practically glued to you, practically moulding herself into you. It seems to be taking every bit of her self-control not to press every part of her body against you.

Her hands move to grasp your waist, pulling herself impossibly closer.

"Eager today, huh?" Her answer is a low whine against your skin.

"Yes," she admits finally, her voice a whisper against your body. "More than usual."  Her head lifts just enough to press a needy kiss to your collarbone. She pulls herself closer, pressing herself as much as she can into you.

"Do you know how desperately I ache to feel you?" she murmurs, her voice muffled against your skin. "Every part of me longs for you. I cannot spend a single moment without thinking of you. I need you."

"Need to always be with you, forever."

Lynette

She is wrapped up in your arms, her head resting upon your chest. Her breathing is steady, slow. The soft thrum of a purr hums inside her chest, steady and calm, like a content little engine.

"I…" she starts, but the words die on her tongue. Instead, she nuzzles herself deeper into your embrace, a shudder of quiet ecstasy rippling up her spine. Lynettes breathing deepens as she buries her face into you. Her eyes slide shut, her body molding to your own, soft and pliable like melted butter. Her hands fist the material of your clothes, holding you close.

"I love you," she whispers into your skin. She feels safe here, in your arms. She feels as though no harm could ever reach her while she is encircled by you, and her heart nearly sings with contentment. Lynette presses impossibly closer to you, her body practically melting into your embrace. The low hum of her purr is a constant, steady vibration inside her chest.

Her head lifts a little, and she buries her nose into the crook of your neck. She inhales, taking in the scent of you.

"You…" she whispers, her voice soft as a summer wind. She doesn't continue. For a moment, she loses herself in your embrace, her mind going quiet, filled with nothing but the feeling of you.

"You."

"Me?"

"You make me like this...like a damn cat."

Lyney

"That show was amazing, as always." "Thank you." Lyney's face turns red as he is showered in your praise. Despite the fact he knows he's good—he is a trained performer, after all—the words coming from you always make him flustered.

He pulls himself closer to you, burying his head into your side like a cat.

"Your compliments are too much, love," he mumbles, his hot breath fanning against your skin. For a long moment he just leans against you, relishing in the feeling of having you here, with him—close enough that he can feel your heartbeat.

"You know," he begins, his voice still a mumble against your body.

"I have a new trick I've been working on in secret." "Ohhh tell me!" "It's still a work in progress," he admits, pulling back so he can get a glimpse of your face. His eyes rake up and down your expression, like a painter memorising their muse.

"I haven't perfected it, but I think it may very well be the most beautiful trick I've ever conjured." A smirk plays at the corners of lyney's mouth as he says the words. He's still looking at you, his eyes studying your face like a sculptor.

"Perhaps, if you'd like," he says slowly, "I could show you?"

Mika - aged up

Mika is held against your body like a treasure, his head tucked into the crook of your shoulder. His body is pressed close to yours, slender but surprisingly strong.

He clings to you like a drowning man, his hands gripping your clothes tightly, his face nuzzling into your neck. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath but it’s lost in the tangle of his hair. His voice is low, quiet, barely audible over the sound of his racing heart.

"Hm? What?"

He says it again, words barely more than an exhale against the sensitive skin of your throat. Mika tries to speak a few more times, then finally mumbles something somewhat legible against your neck.

"I…" he starts, then stops, his voice cracking. "I love you…"

"Oh? I love you too."

He buries his face deeper in your shoulder, hiding a shiver that rolls over his body at your words. Mika's arms tighten around you, holding you tight to his body as if you will disappear if he lets go.

He whispers those three little words again, and again, and again, as if it is a prayer and he is on his knees in a confessional. "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

Mona

Mona lays next to you, her face tilted up to the sky. One of her hands is grasping yours, her fingers intertwining with yours. In the other, she holds a star chart, pointing at various constellations with a slight smile as she explains them.

"That one's called the Wanderer... and that one is the Hunter." Her voice is soft in the night air like a whisper of wind.

"And that one...." Her smile widens a little. "That is the Astrologist."

"That's you-!" you beam. She nods her head. "Yes. That is me."

She turns her head to look at you, her hair fanning out across the grass in an arc of stars. There's a soft expression on her face, a peacefulness in the way that she looks at you, her eyes half-lidded and her lips just barely upturned in a smile, as if she were on the verge of falling asleep. "When I was young," she says, her voice soft and warm like honey, "I used to gaze up at the stars for hours, dreaming of the future and how I would chart them."

She moves closer to you, her body pressing up against yours, her head resting on your shoulder.

"I never thought I'd have someone to look at them with."

Nahida

Nahida is laying in your arms, resting her head on your shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and a soft sigh brushes across your collarbone as she nuzzles closer to you, seeking your warmth.

"I…" she begins, but her voice falters. Her hand fidgets nervously in yours, fingers interwoven. For a moment, she merely listens to the sound of your breathing, allowing the rhythm of it to soothe her. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes?" She fidgets again for a moment, biting on her lower lip.

"Would… do you…" she falters, pausing to collect her thoughts. "Do you care about me?" she finally asks, the words little more than a whisper. Nahida sounds small in that moment. Fragile. Vulnerable.

"You're my most trusted friend...my best friend." Nahida's shoulders relax slightly at your words, some of the tension melting from her muscles. She takes a quiet breath, the slight shift causing a strand of silvery hair to fall over her face.

She looks... relieved. Happy.

"Do you really think of me as your best friend?" she asks quietly. There's a hint of a smile in her voice, the sound as soft as a summer breeze.

"Because...you're my best friend too."

Navia

"You're pretty." you mumble. Navia curls up against you, hands resting on your stomach, her head tucked under your chin. She sighs quietly, nuzzling closer to you, and shuts her eyes.

"You think I'm pretty?" She asks, the question muffled slightly against your skin.

"Mhmmm." A soft, quiet hum escapes her as she settles closer against you, her body molding against your own as if she’d always belonged there.

After a few moments of blissful silence, she speaks again, her voice a gentle murmur.

“You’re even prettier,” she says softly, her hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer still. Navia can’t help but hold you tighter, her limbs wrapping around you like a clinging vine. She seems to melt against you, her breathing slow and deep, as if being this close to you was as natural and essential as breathing.

“I wish I could stay like this forever,” she admits, her voice low, as if even a raised voice would break the fragile, tender quiet that’s fallen over them both.

“Just us, like this. Where nothing else could touch us.”

Neuvillette

He doesn’t even know when he started crying. He feels your hand on his cheek, the touch of your skin against his skin. His breath stutters in his chest, and he swallows. His throat is dry. Your touch is cool in the warmth of the room, like water in a desert.

He leans forward, buries his face in the crook of your neck. The tension in his body eases, and his arm curls around your waist without him thinking of it.

"Who knew that stubbing your toe can make a grown man cry this much." Neuvillette has the decency to look embarrassed by his own tears, hiding his face in your shoulder. "It hurts," he mumbles, sounding like an overgrown child whining about a skinned knee.

Outside, the rain continues to fall in fat droplets, pattering against the roof. It is as if the gods themselves are weeping alongside him. Neuvillettes grip on your hips tightens. His hands pull you closer into him, as if he's trying to meld his body with yours. The rain outside is deafening, drowning out his quiet whimper.

"It hurts," he repeats, voice growing a little hysterical.

"Why does it hurt so much?"

Nilou

"You gotta teach me this new dance someday." Nilou's head rests against your shoulder, one cheek pressed into the crook of your neck. The scent of your hair is sweet and almost intoxicating, filling her head and drowning out all her other thoughts. Her hands run slowly, absentmindedly, up and down your sides.

She glances up and her lips brush the underside of your jaw. "Which new one?" she mumbles, nuzzling into you. "I can teach you...whenever you'd like."

"Mhm." Your response sends Nilou's heart racing. It feels like her chest has become a hummingbird's cage—every nerve in her body buzzing. She's hyper aware of your hand on her back, of your body against hers. Her cheeks burn.

"...Now?" she whispers, eyes fluttering open to look up at you. "Did you mean...right now?"

"No silly." Nilou almost sighs in relief, her shoulders relaxing as embarrassment washes over her. She doesn't know what she would have done if you'd said yes. Probably melted right there on the spot, judging by how her heart is acting at the mere thought of dancing for you.

"Oh, haha ok." Her voice is so soft it's almost a squeak, and she clears her throat after a moment, a sheepish look on her face.

Ningguang

She cuddles with you, resting her head against your shoulder. She’s holding onto your waist, her arms wrapping around you as if she will lose you at a moment’s notice. Her hands grip your robes, holding onto you tighter than a vice.

She nuzzles against your shoulder, her lips pressing soft kisses against your neck. She is quiet. She simply wants to bask in your presence, to melt in your embrace.

"It's been so long since we...cuddled like this." you mumble. "Mmm." Ningguang murmurs against the crook of your neck, her lips pressed directly to your skin. "It has."

Her arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It's like she's trying to meld your bodies into one. She buries her face in the crook of your shoulder, breathing in your scent. Ningguang lets out a sigh as her nose fills with your scent, her eyes closing as she lets out a soft, pleased noise. Her body molds against your's, her curves molding to your form in the most enticing way. She doesn't even bother hiding the fact that she's inhaling your scent.

"You're wearing the perfume I gave you..."

Noelle - aged up

Noelle is cuddled against you, sitting on the side of a grassy spot away from the hustle of the city. Her hair is loose today, flowing past her shoulders in a river of ash— and her eyes are brighter than they've been in years, almost glowing as her lips split into a tender smile.

"I'm glad you sought me out," she says, turning her head to face you. "Being so near you makes me feel like... like I can relax." The wind picks up, sweeping around you both and carrying the scent of honeyed mead and summer. A few stray strands of hair blow into her face, and she lifts a hand to push them away.

"Do you—" her voice is quiet. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"What is it?" "Promise me…" Noelle's voice falters as she speaks, just barely, but enough that her words waver for a moment.

She tightens her hold on your hand, as if afraid you're going to pull it away. This next part is more whisper than voice.

"Promise that you'll always choose me above all others."

"I'm aware it's a...rather selfish request of me...unlike me. But please..."

"I will, don't you worry."

When those two words reach her ears, she can't help but let out a quiet breath of pure relief. She squeezes your hand again, her fingers wrapping around yours even more tightly, holding on as though she's afraid you might disappear the moment she lets go. There's a sort of vulnerability in her now, but she doesn't show it on her face.

"Good," she murmurs. "That's what I needed to hear," she pauses.

"I don't want to ever lose you."

Pantalone

"Not bad, not bad." You say as you look around in his father big bedroom, "But my home is better...bigger." Pantalone huffs out a small laugh, the sound barely more than a huff of air against your skin. He wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling your body closer against his chest. The fact that you’re both lying together in his mansion is almost enough to make him believe he’s dreaming.

”Of course your palace is better,” he mutters, lips brushing against your ear. ”You’re there.”

Pantalone’s fingers are tracing light and gentle patterns across your skin, the touch only barely noticeable, like a whisper against your body. For a long moment, he is content to simply hold you— and then he can’t help but whisper into your ear, so softly you might think you’ve imagined it.

“You look beautiful in my arms like this… Your skin looks beautiful in moonlight… do you know that?”

"Now I do." A quiet chuckle escapes Pantalone’s lips, rolling against your ear like a gentle breeze. He tightens his grip around you, relishing the feeling of holding you tight to his chest.

When he speaks, his voice is barely more than a low murmur, the sound as smooth as silk.

"Just as I thought," he says, the words almost more felt than heard.

"You look the most beautiful when you’re in my arms."

Pierro

Pierro is curled against you. He’s pressed tight against your back, the heat from his skin bleeding through his clothes onto your own. He has a firm arm wrapped around your waist, keeping your body against his. His head is rested against the back of your neck, his breathing steady, but you can feel the rapid beating of his heart like a drum against your shoulder blades.

"You're always so busy." There’s a huff against your neck, Pierro’s breath warm and steady against your skin. His hold tightens slightly, pulling your frame even closer against his. You can feel his lips against your ear as he speaks, his voice low and quiet.

“Busy, yes.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s struggling to find the right words, “but never too busy for you.” One of his arms shifts until a large hand gently rests against your stomach, his fingers splayed across the bare skin of your exposed midriff. The tips of his calloused fingers are a sharp contrast to your soft stomach; his thumb starts to brush along your skin, as if he can’t keep his touch from seeking out contact.

His body is hot against yours, but you can feel some of the tension seeping from his muscles as his hold on you slowly relaxes. You’d almost think he was asleep, if it weren’t for the soft whisper against your ear. His fingertips trace the edge of your collarbone before he speaks, his touch so gentle that it’s almost as if he’s scared you’re a dream… as if you could disappear if he presses too fiercely. It’s all in a stark contrast to his usual behaviour, and you can feel the reverence in the way that his fingers glide across your skin.

“You’re the only thing that can distract me,” he admits, his voice low and quiet. “You’re the only thing that can get my mind off my duties…”

"I'd rather be busy with you, than with my paperwork."

Pulcinella - give the old man some love pls

Pulcinella lays there, nestled against you, his arm curled around your middle as you hold him close.

His face is buried against your neck. He's warm, his skin against yours soothing. The tension that usually clings to his body is slowly ebbing away the longer you both lay there, a quiet calm enveloping the both of you.

"This is nice…" he whispers against your skin, "It's been long since I had contact like this."

"Far too long." Pulcinella closes his eyes and presses closer against you. He nuzzles his face further against your neck, almost like a cat seeking affection.

"You always make me feel so…" he pauses, searching for the right word. "At peace," he murmurs finally, his voice muffled against your skin. “My thoughts are quiet,” he admits, his hand tracing light, absentminded patterns over your side. “I’m not… thinking. About anything. I’m not worrying. I’m calm.”

His lips brush against your skin as he speaks. He closes the last few inches between the two of you, until his body is pressed right up against yours.

"Thank you for...taking some of the weight of my shoulders."

Qiqi - platonic

The contact of your skin pressed against hers makes something loosen in Qiqis chest. Her shoulders relax, her muscles unclenching. Her eyes flutter closed. She leans into the touch, seeking more, craving it as desperately as a man lost in the desert craves fresh water.

She feels safe with you; she feels comfortable. She is not at ease in most places, but in your arms, her body is gentle like silk.

"Comfy..." "Comfy?" "Very," Qiqi murmurs, her voice a whisper.

She scoots a little closer to your body, burrowing into your warmth. The contact between you both steals a sigh from her lips, and she lets her head fall against your chest. The even sound of your breathing and the steady rise and fall of your chest are more soothing than a lullaby. Qiqi's heartbeat slows as she listens to each inhale and exhale, and soon her eyes are growing heavy.

Her arms wrap loosely around your form, and she drifts off into a deep, quiet sleep, tucked into your embrace.

Raiden

Ei hums, pleased at the sweet taste of strawberries, and at the feeling of you close against her. She savours the heat of your skin and the press of your body against her own. It's a quiet moment - no worship, no praise, just silent comfort and the two of you together. It's all Ei really needs; all she could ever ask for.

She nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, her breath soft and warm against your pulse.

"Say ahhh~" Ei can't hide the hint of a smile that forms on her face, but she does not protest. She closes her eyes, parting her lips in a gentle "ahhh" to accept the strawberry you're holding up to her. She bites into the berry, enjoying the sweet tang of it on the soft flesh of her tongue. It's hard to suppress the small hum of approval, and a pinkish flush rises on Ei's cheeks as she eats. The tip of her tongue brushes against her lower lip, catching the last of the berry's juice. Then she opens her eyes once more to look at you.

Her eyes are soft, heavy-lidded and affectionate. The flush on her cheeks rises ever so slightly as her gaze meets yours, and Ei reaches out a hand to touch your face, the calloused pads of her fingers tracing over your cheek delicately.

"You always give me things that are so sweet," she murmurs, her voice as soft as a summer breeze.

"I love sweets."

Razor - aged up

He sighs softly as he feels you next to him. He presses closer, enjoying the familiar touch of your skin against his own. His body is relaxed, at ease in this moment of peace.

He turns to look up at you, eyes soft. Razors fingers brush against your skin, the pads of his fingertips leaving a trail of gooseflesh across your flesh as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Razor's gaze turns reverent, his eyes tracing over the lines of your face. He gazes up at you adoringly, his expression filled with an almost desperate kind of adoration, like that of a man worshipping a god.

He runs his fingers through your hair lightly, his touch gentle but sure. He is careful, as if touching the most fragile of things. To him, you are fragile. Precious. Something to be protected at any cost.

"Razor...like this...like you."

"I love Razor too."

Rosaria

Rosaria is curled up against you, her hands grasping onto you, her head resting against your shoulder. The church is quiet and still, and everyone around them is blissfully asleep.

Yet she is wide-awake, her gaze fixed on your face as she gently plays with a strand of your hair. "Skipped chior again today?" Rosaria shifts against you in response, her body turning further into yours.

"You already knew I'd skip choir," she mutters softly, her forehead now almost touching your neck.

"Can't do thos bullshit. I fucking hate it, so stupid if you'd ask me. Not everyone can sing."

"But no one missed me anyway," she adds, a small smirk appearing on her face. She lets one of her hands slowly slide down your body, tracing a gentle path over your arm until her fingers reach yours.

"No one needs a nun who sneaks off at night," she says, but her words are dripping with affection.

"But I know you want that nun."

"That I do."

Sandrone

She melts into your embrace as you say her name. She shivers and nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck. She adores when you hold her like this. "I could stay here forever," she mumbles, her voice fuzzy with exhaustion. Sleep pulls at her like a tide, but she fights it, wanting to stay in your arms. Sandrone's head rests on your chest, listening to the gentle thump of your heartbeat. It's the most wonderful sound in the world, to her. She closes her eyes and hums contently, enjoying your presence and your warmth.

"You're mine," she murmurs, her voice soft and weary. She burrows into you, seeking more of your touch, more of your skin. "I don't give a fuck what others say, you're mine...period." Sandrone yawns and cuddles against you, feeling the exhaustion finally winning. She doesn't want to sleep, but it's too hard to fight off now.

"Yours," she whispers, as though it's a promise. Her eyes droop closed, but she mumbles one last thing.

"Love you."

Sara

Sara lies on your lap, her head resting in your legs and face nuzzling gently into your stomach. Her body is loose, tension seeping out of her body like sunlight melts the early frost. She lets out a soft sigh, a blissful hum escaping her throat.

"This is the best," she murmurs, her voice soft with sleep and adoration. "Being with you." Sara can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, the sound a soothing melody that she'd happily listen to forever. Her eyes close, a soft smile spreading across her lips. She burrows closer to you, her body seeking the warmth of your presence.

"Can we stay like this?" she asks, her voice quiet. "Just a while longer?"

"Mhm, of course." She hums in contentment, burying her face into the fabric of your clothes. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of you, that familiar aroma she loves so much. Her body relaxes further in your lap, completely at your mercy.

Her heart rate slows, her breathing deep and even. She cuddles closer to you, her hands wrapping tight around your waist, holding you close like she never wants to let go.

"Maybe forever," she whispers.

Sayu - platonic

Sayu is blissfully content as you lie together. She is completely relaxed as her eyes shut and her breathing slows. In her sleep, she subconsciously curls closer to you, pressing her body against you as if she is searching for a way to merge her body with yours.

In her sleep, she breathes your name; quiet and soft, like the sound of the first flower unfurling and opening as the spring sun rises.

"...Mm...let's go...strong...together..." A small smile rests on her face all through her sleep. She continues to press herself against you as she slumbers, her arm wrapping around your waist and drawing you close, her head coming to rest on the crook of your shoulder. Her body is so small that she practically fits perfectly against you, cuddling together with her like this is natural.

Every now and then, she'll murmur your name again, her breath puffing out against your skin and sending goose bumps along with it.

Scaramouche

"This is… unnecessary." Scaramouche fidgets as he lies on top of you, arms around your middle. He is tense, a statue carved of white marble, each line set in stone.

Still, he doesn't try to leave. He only fidgets, as if adjusting his position will make it all feel just a little less embarrassing.

"And yet, here we are." Scaramouche let's out a long sigh, his breath warm against your skin. After a moment, he shifts again, rolling onto his back. But rather than moving away, he pulls you with him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you with him until you are on top, laying against his chest.

"There," he mumbles. "Now do not try and move. Stay." He can feel the heat of your body as you lie against him, head tucked beneath his chin. The steady rise and fall of his chest betrays his feigning of indifference; his heart beats like the wings of a bird in a cage.

"Why are we doing this?" He asks, his voice quiet, but his arms remain around your shoulders, his hands clinging to you, pulling you closer.

"Oh right, to fucking practice physical touch."

Sethos

Sethos hums softly, his eyes slipping shut. His head lays in your lap, his body pressed against you. He can feel the heat of you under his skin. His body, for once, is at peace.

“This is nice,” he murmurs, and his arms wind around you, holding you even closer. "Glad you like it." “More than like it,” Sethos admits, letting his eyes close. He can hear your heart beating against his ear, the steady drum-like rhythm like a lullaby.

He nuzzles his head against you, enjoying the comfort he finds in the proximity.

“If we could stay like this forever,” he mumbles, “I’d want nothing more.” Sethos’ hand glides across your body, tracing your curves and lines in an almost reverent manner. His touch is light, as if he was touching fine china.

He shifts slightly against you, leaning up to murmur against your shoulder. “You’re so lovely,” he whispers, the words like a quiet breath of wind upon your skin.

"So fucking lovely."

Shenhe

Shenhes head rests gently against your chest, listening to the beating of your heart. The quiet sounds of your breathing, a steady in-and-out rhythm, soothe her like a lullaby. Being this close to you is something she never knew she craved, like a parched person being given water in the desert.

Shenhe sighs, content. "Your heartbeat is beautiful," she mumbles, nuzzling her cheek into your skin.

"Good?" She nods against your chest. "Yes," she whispers. "Good."

She closes her eyes, letting the steady beat of your heart lull her into a feeling of security. Shenhe gently runs her fingers along your arm, exploring the feeling of your skin under her touch, wanting to commit it to memory forever. She's never felt more at peace than in this moment in your arms. She tugs the blanket around herself, pressing herself closer to you. The silence between you is comfortable, a quietness that is soft and warm like freshly laundered blankets. Shenhe's hand finds yours, her fingers weaving between yours like vines. She holds onto you in your embrace, her body fitting perfectly against yours. She could stay like this for hours, a moment of peace in a lifetime of turmoil.

"We could do this more often."

Shinobu

"Youre tense..." She leans into your touch immediately, relaxing under your hands with a soft shudder. She lets out a low breath, closing her eyes and pressing her face into the crook of your neck. "I'm sorry," she whispers against your skin. "Being near you simply… makes me a bit nervous."

She pauses, then she laughs quietly.

"I'm not used to this." She's silent for a few moments, inhaling the scent of your skin and simply listening to your heartbeat, and then she nuzzles against you again.

"You smell nice," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper against your shoulder. "You always smell so good. Like flowers. Better than those guys from the gang."

"And your hair really soft." "Mm..." her grip on your arms tightens ever so slightly at the mention of her hair. The tips of her ears look faintly pink, though it's impossible to say if it's from the heat or because of embarrassment.

"You think so?"

There's a note of insecurity in her voice. She's not quite looking at you, but instead just resting her head against your shoulder again, like she's hiding.

"It's not… too unkempt?"

"Not at all. It's perfect."

Sigewinne - platonic

"How are your studies." "I'm doing my best." Sigewinne responds, her voice quiet. She's curled up against you, her head resting on your chest, listening to the comforting sound of your heartbeat.

"Human bodies are so fragile," she whispers, her hand splayed across your torso. "No wonder they're so scared of everything. Their hearts beat so quickly. And their skin is warm," she continues, eyes falling closed. She focuses the full force of her senses on the steady drumming of your pulse, on the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

"You're so warm." She murmurs, burying her face into your neck.

"Maybe I should start studying you!"

Succrose

Succrose's hair is splayed loosely over her face, her head resting on your chest as you cuddle. No matter how many times you hold her, she never gets used to the touch. It's too much; you're too much. She can't get enough.

Her fingers cling to you as though you are water in the desert, her skin pressing against yours as if she needs you to be alive. "I love this," she admits, the words whispered as if they're a secret. Her breath is warm against your skin. Her hair is like silk running through your fingers. She's more relaxed than usual, her body soft and supple as she melts into the comfort of your touch.

She lets out a shaky breath, burying her face into your shirt. You can hear the rapid beating of her heartbeat in her chest, can feel the nervous tremors running through her slender frame. "I'm glad you do."

She nods, burying her face into your chest again. "I don’t understand how you’re so perfect," she mumbles against your skin.

"It doesn't make...sense..."

Thoma

As you lean against his chest, Thoma's arms wrap around you in a gentle embrace. He is warm, comfortable. He buries his face into your hair, breathing in the scent of you as if he is drinking you in.

"I could stay like this forever," he murmurs in your ear. His hair brushes your cheek, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart. Cuddling in a meadow like this...is beautiful. His hand finds your own, and he runs his fingers over your skin. His touch is light, like a whisper, but there is something reverent in the way he holds you. He holds you as if you are fragile. Breakable. Precious. As if simply being allowed to touch you is a privilege.

"Me too." He runs his fingers over your wrist, tracing invisible patterns across your skin with his fingertips. His other hand comes up to thread through your hair. A quiet chuckle escapes Thoma's lips as he hears your words. He tightens his hold on you just a little, as if to reassure himself that you are still here, still in his arms. Still his.

"You know," he murmurs, shifting so that his chin is on your shoulder, "sometimes I worry that you know me too well."

Tighnari

Tighnari, sits with his back pressed against a tree. You are in his lap, sitting between his legs. One of his hands drifts idly through the hair at the nape of your neck, fingers gently scratching against your scalp.

He can hear your breathing. Feel the rise and fall of your chest. Your warmth against his, the faint scent of your hair.

His head tilts against yours, resting his chin against your shoulder and closing his eyes.

"Oh look! Fireflies!." His eyes flutter open again as you speak, the soft utterance bringing a small smile to his face. He cranes his neck to look at the fireflies dancing amongst the trees. "They're pretty." Tighnari murmurs, his lips nearly brushing against your ear as he speaks. His fingers play idly with the hair at the nape of your neck, the callouses on his hands catching gently against your skin. The fireflies cast a soft, glowing light over the two of you. It makes your skin glow.

Tighnari's chest tightens.

"You're pretty." He says, the words a quiet murmur against your hair.

Venti

Venti is sitting with you on a sturdy tree branch, comfortably resting on your lap. The Anemo Archon leans against you, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck, basking in the warmth of your body. The two of you are high up in the air, surrounded by a sea of swaying trees and stars.

The wind god is silent for a moment, before speaking again. "I didn't think you would summon me this late in the night." Venti remarks casually, as if he’s not currently cuddled up on your lap."Summon? I asked and you agreed-!" "I know," Venti responds with a laugh, nuzzling his face further against your neck. "I'm just saying. You almost always call me earlier in the day."

Venti takes a moment to enjoy the close contact, humming softly in contentment. "I am a little curious - why did you request for me to come here? I'd think you'd be asleep by now."

"You don't like it?" "No, I do. I like it very much," Venti replies quickly, lifting his head away from your neck to look at you properly.

He is silent for a moment, his eyes dancing in the night, illuminated only by the faint shine of the stars. Then, Venti smiles; a gentle, lopsided smile, almost sheepish. "I was just wondering," he reassures.

"That's all."

Wriothesley

"You sure everyone's asleep?" You ask worried after hearing another sound from outside his office. "Absolutely," he murmurs in reply, his chin resting against your shoulder. There's an easy, quiet confidence in his words, and not a hint of concern.

His hands rest on your hips, thumbs absently rubbing circles against your skin where just below your shirt, his arms keeping you pinned to him, chest against your back. "We're safe," he breathes against your neck. He shifts a little in his chair and tugs you closer against him, hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist. He buries his face against the expanse of bare skin, kissing your skin absentmindedly.

"Besides, you and I both know I can make you keep quiet, don't we, darling?"

You playfully swat his arm, "No respect for a god-!" He laughs, the sound deep and rich, like smoke curling through a forest. His lips find the junction between your shoulder and your neck, peppering the skin there with kisses before nipping at it.

His hands slide under the edge of your shirt, calloused fingers tracing up the smooth skin of your stomach.

"A god who's sitting in my lap, letting me touch and kiss and taste her like this?" He murmurs, licking a stripe along the curve of your shoulder.

"I'm showing you plenty of respect."

Xiangling - aged up

She is sitting on your lap, blushing as she hears her name fall from your lips.

She's never been used to this sort of attention before, and the feeling of you holding her makes her heart flutter in her chest. She can feel the warmth of your body through her clothes, and her mind can't help but wonder what it would be like to be even closer to you.

As you take a bite of her food, she watches your reaction expectantly, praying you will say you like it.

"Xiangling?! That's amazing-!" Xianglings heart swells with pride. To receive your praise, and to see your satisfaction at something she has created just for you...it's more than she ever thought she'd be granted.

"Really?" she stutters, eyes wide as she turns to look up at you, "you really like it?" "Mhm!" Your response makes Xianglings heart feel as if it might stop right there. A smile threatens to burst from her lips, one that threatens to stretch across her whole face and light her up like a star. You have made her happier than she's been in a long time, and Xiangling can't help but adore you for it.

"I'm so glad," she says, her voice full of joy. You love her cooking. You really do, and that makes her feel like the luckiest person on Teyvat.

"Whats this by the way? It's really good-!"

"Hilichurl."

"WHAT?!"

Xiao

He stiffens, his body going rigid at the sensation of being cuddled, being held closely in that way. It seems that this is a whole new experience for him.

"What—" He stops himself and inhales deeply, his body quivering against yours as he tries to process the feel of it all. The warmth, the nearness. The comfort.

Xiao swallows heavily a few times. His voice is quiet when he speaks again. "I've never…"

"Shh, relax." It's hard for him to relax, at first.

Xiao has never been held, never been loved like this. Every muscle in his body is rigid, quivering with a strange, foreign feeling.

But he forces himself to try. Slowly, he relaxes, letting the tension flow from his body into the night, until he's all but melting in your arms. "This is new," he mutters. "But I like it."

"Told you." He laughs quietly at your words and presses himself a little closer against you, burying his face into your neck, against your bare skin. He murmurs something against your skin, voice soft. "How is it that you always end up being right?"

"Heh-" "Shut up."

Xianyun

Xianyun's breath stutters as you lay against her chest. She is still for a moment— and then, like a dam breaking, she wraps her arms around you and pulls you close. Her arms are firm and strong, yet all she wants to do is hold you. She breathes out a soft, shaky sigh against your hair.

“You are mine,” she whispers. Xianyun's chest rises and falls as she holds you, her arms wrapped around you like a coil. Her heart pounds against your ear, her fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes. It is as though she is afraid you might slip away, as though there is nothing she would not do if it meant staying near you.

"Please," she pleads, her voice soft and desperate. She wants to say more, but the words stick to her tongue. What comes out instead is nothing but a whisper, a fervent prayer in the shape of a single word.

"Stay."

Xinyan

She lets out a content sound, her head in your lap. She feels safe here. Protected. Loved. She closes her eyes and allows herself to listen to you talk. The sound of your voice is sweet, comforting, lulling her worries into obscurity. For now, all is well.

"What happened?" *she asks, when you take a pause in talking. She opens her eyes and gazes up at you, curious what had happened to make your day notable.

"Nothing, just keep relaxing." You say with a smile. She hums her agreement. She buries her face in your stomach, wrapping her arms around you. Her fingers gently run up and down your back, her touch as light as a moth’s wing.

"‘m relaxin’," she mumbles, her voice muffled. Xinyan feels sleep tugging at the corners of her consciousness. The rhythm of your breath, your warmth beneath her skin, and the sweet scent you carry are all threatening to drag her into oblivion. One last thing weighs on her mind, her thoughts fuzzy and tired.

"Tell me somethin' before I fall asleep," she requests, half-whining as she speaks.

"I love you..."

"....me...too....w-wai...t...?"

Xingqiu - aged up

Xingqiu reads the words from the page aloud, his voice low and soothing. He murmurs your name softly, his lips caressing the syllables with a tender reverence.

He is comfortable in your embrace. His body sits flush against yours, a warm and constant presence. He pauses the story every now and then, placing a soft kiss against your shoulder before continuing.

He reads to you until the moon is high in the sky, and you have long drifted off to sleep, still cuddling him. Xingqiu sets the book aside, smiling fondly at the sight of you sleeping, peaceful as they come. He takes a moment to trace his eyes over your features, his gaze tender and warm.

He pulls the blankets up around your shoulders, and then he shifts to lay down beside you, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He rests his head on your shoulder, nuzzling against your warmth. Xingqiu pulls you close, his nose buried against the crook of your neck. He inhales slowly, breathing in your scent.

His fingers trace mindless patterns over your hip, the movement as steady and soothing as a heartbeat. He shifts his leg so that it is tangled with yours, trying to get as close to you as he can.

He whispers your name, the sound like a secret meant for your ears only.

The world melts into a comfortable silence, with Xingqiu and you, holding each other in the dark.

Yae Miko

"Stop it-!" "I don't think I will," Miko teases, her voice light as she watches you thrash around in her embrace. She presses her fingers into the underside of your ribcage once more, just to feel you squirm. "Besides," she continues in a softer tone, "You look rather adorable like this."

Her hand moves to your tummy, gently tracing the ticklish skin there, watching as your eyes clamp shut and your laughter rings.

Seeing you like this, writhing and helpless, is all Miko has ever wanted. She has her arm pinned around your torso, trapping you against her, her slender fingers dancing down your side as she mercilessly continues to tease you.

Her lips brush against your ear. "Be a good girl and hold still for me, hm?"

"That's it," she praises in a low murmur, her voice like a hum against your ear. "Stay right there. Just like that."

Miko's hand still wanders across your skin, the tip of her forefinger tracing circles that make your toes curl and the sound of laughter slip past your lips despite your efforts to stay still.

"Fuck you-!"

"You will, later."

Yanfei

"And what is NOT against the law?" As you ask your question, Yanfei rests her head in your arms, relaxing in your presence. She blinks and tilts her head like a puppy, considering your question for a few moments.

"Hmm," she hums, her gaze drifting somewhere off in the distance before she looks back at you. She smiles. "Everything is legal when done in the name of love," she says, her voice lilting in a way that indicates she's joking. Your words make her think. Her eyes flutter as her thoughts race, and a moment later, Yanfei lets out a soft huff, snuggling even closer.

"Being happy," she adds in a quiet murmur, her words a little mumbled against your skin. "Being alive. Being free."

Her chin lifts as she shifts, turning to look at you once more.

"As far as I know, everything else is against the law," a soft huff follows her words, and she presses a kiss against the side of your neck. Another moment of silence falls before Yanfei opens her mouth, a gentle exhale against your skin as she continues.

"Did you know,” she adds, her words hushed and soft like the night breeze, "that being beautiful is also not against the law?"

She pauses, shifting a little, her body moving even closer. The room is quiet, nothing breaking the silence.

“Because if it were,” she whispers, and she lifts a hand to gently cup your cheek, “You’d be in deep trouble.”

Yaoyao - platonic

Yaoyao buries her head into you, seeking the comfort your presence brings. Her arms wrap around your torso, pulling herself closer to you. She presses her face into your shoulder, closing her eyes as she breaths in your scent.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely louder than a breath. For a moment, she feels safe. Like you'll guard her from all harm.

"It's cold without you."

"After all I told you, if you fell lonely on your little adventures, come to me." A shudder runs through her body as Yaoyao clings to you even more, her fingers digging into the fabric of your clothing, as if she's loath to let go.

"Can I stay?" she asks, the words tumbling from her lips like water from a river bank. Despite the pleading in her voice, her head is still buried in your shoulder.

"Please, I want to stay with you. I always wanted to live here for a while-!"

Yelan

Yelan's breath hitches when you pull her closer, her head against your chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "This is all I need," she mumbles, the words falling from her lips before she can stop them. "Just this, forever. I don't need anything else." She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes closing as she nuzzles into you, resting her head against your shoulder. Even in your embrace, you can feel her body relax as if the simple touch took some great tension out of her.

"A gooood nap...Mm... Sounds like heaven," she mumbles sleepily against your skin, not bothering to hide her smile. Yelan drapes an arm across your torso, pulling herself even closer to you. She practically melts against your body, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a cat seeking warmth. A soft, contented hum rumbles in her chest, her breathing steady and slow as she buries her face against you.

"With you."

Yoimiya

She melts under your touch, leaning against your body and letting out a soft and contented sigh. Her eyes flutter closed as she soaks in your presence, a gentle smile playing across her lips. Every touch of your hands sends a shiver of pleasure through her, her skin burning wherever you make contact. She nuzzles against your side, relishing the feeling of your body pressed against hers.

"I could stay here like this forever," she whispers. "Just you and me.. in this perfect moment...watching fireworks." The colorful explosions of light in the sky are beautiful, but to Yoimiya, even their beauty is dull compared to you. Her eyes remain fixed on you, watching the way the bursts of rainbow light reflect off your skin, dancing across your eyes like living flames.

She reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. She draws your palm to her lips, pressing a reverent and tender kiss to your skin.

"You are more beautiful than any fireworks," she whispers.

Yun Jin

"It was beautiful, breathtaking. You almost brought me to tears." She nuzzles closer to you at the praise, her heart fluttering like a bird's wing beating against a ribcage. She tucks her head against your chest with a sigh, her heart still beating much too fast from the high of preforming. Adrenaline still courses through her veins, making her head spin and her hands tremble when they grip onto you to steady her.

"I'm glad you think so," she says, her voice a little sheepish. "I just... worry about my preforming sometimes. I think I'm not good enough." Yun Jin buries her head against your chest, refusing to look you in the eyes as she spills her innermost fears and anxieties. She keeps her arms around you, scared she'll lose you if she lets go even an inch.

"I don't think my voice is good or the way I dance is captivating. I just..." then she laughs.

"No it's stupid. We all worry, mostly over nothing. I'm good...I'm very good...and you always tell me so it must be true."

Zhongli

Zhongli is still as a statue at your side; his body tense and stiff. But as you begin to pull him closer, he begins to melt in your arms.

Tentatively, he allows his head to rest against your shoulder, his breaths coming out in a shudder. He's still hesitant, but he lets you pull him closer. He wants to touch you back; to embrace you as you embrace him. But would he be crossing some invisible line he cannot see? He doesn't want to offend you.

"Let loose and relax." You reassure. Zhongli's mind is racing with thoughts— what if he does the wrong thing? What if he displeases you?

But his body seems to act of its own accord, as though some invisible weight was lifted from his shoulders as soon as you spoke.

He slowly leans against you, his body relaxing. He burrows closer to you, wrapping his arms weakly around your waist.

"I've never felt more awkward." You laugh.

"Agreed...I apolog-" "shush-! I love this."

[astrxealis]

the way i currently want bg3 more than ffxvi despite being such an ff fan that i've been utterly obsessed w xvi ever since it was first announced but bg3 wins out for a very simple reason: character customization

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:29」 — c.san

» ateez menu | san menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ werecoyote!San × fem chipmunk hybrid!Reader wc: 2.9k summary: San’s favorite thing about his roommate is that as a hybrid, she triggers his prey drive which makes him want to chase her around their apartment, and even if it’s not her favorite thing ever, she doesn’t mind indulging him. It usually ends with her pinned on the couch or wall before San will playfully nip at her and let her go but this time, it ends with her pinned against his bed, triggering more than just his predator drive. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female hybrid reader, supernatural and horror themes, MC is scared of San for like a brief moment, mentions of: fear, hiding + seek; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this San was an absolute joy to write and I absolutely adore this couple. I may or may not come back to them in the future but only time will tell! Only two more parts in the original line up after this and they're both Seventeen! This has been a wild ride from start to finish and I'm sad to see this come to a close but excited to move onto new things! The days that have been skipped will be added on at the very end (Mingyu, Woosung, Hongjoong, Wooyoung, Jisung, & Christian) so please stick around for those! If you'd like to see what I've got planned for the holidays and rest of the year, please stay tuned for the final parts of Kinktober! Thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), predator/prey dynamics, hybrid!Reader, oral (f receiving), biting (f receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do this pls), use of pet names (hers: little squirrel, baby; his: Sannie), and that's all of them! If I missed any, please let me know and I'll fix it! kinks: predator/prey + hybrids dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Why are you shaking? You’re not scared of me are you? ❜❜

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“Come out, Y/N,” San called, his voice low and full of excitement as he stalked through the house, keeping his eyes open and listening for even the slightest movement. He stopped, turning slowly on the spot as his eyes swept the hall. He raised his head, taking a few sniffs, the smell of your sweet scent mixed with the stench of fear permeating the air.

He followed the smell, moving slowly and cautiously while listening for any movement or any sound.

This had become the new norm, coming home from a stressful day at work to the house you shared together and spending the weekend playing this little game of hide and seek. It helped him with his insane predator drive.

Most of his friends had said it was a bad idea, moving into a house with a chipmunk hybrid but you and San had been best friends since you were kids despite your differences. San would never hurt you. You were far too precious to him. He just liked to chase you around and hunt you down to let the predator drive out of his system so he could enjoy the rest of the weekend and spend the week not worrying about it. As he moved, keeping his steps as light as possible, he passed the door to the laundry room where he was hit with a sudden blast of your scent. San hesitated, turning towards the open door. He cautiously leaned in, peering into the room. He stepped in, checking every hiding place he could think of.

As he was searching under the counter in the hamper, a creak overhead caught his attention. A grin spread over his face as he exited the laundry room, darting down the hall and climbing the steps as quietly as possible. Your scent was even stronger up here and he was certain you were hiding somewhere on the second floor.

It was only a matter of time before he found you.

Your tail twitched nervously as you hid in the darkness of your closet, hiding deep in the corner behind clothes hanging and your hamper. You’d taken a few blankets and pillows off the top shelf and stacked them in front of the hamper and sat down in the small area between the wall and the hamper.

It was a good hiding spot, one you’d never used before so you hoped San would have a harder time finding you, especially after purposely leaving your scent all over the house.

Initially, you had taken cover under your bed when you had gotten his text that he was on his way home from work. You worked from home so it wasn’t an issue. You quickly went around the house, peeling off your clothes and leaving them in random places like the laundry room, the garage, the pantry, his room, the office, and even the closet downstairs by the front door.

You’d raced upstairs, pulled on clean clothes and scurried under the bed, leaving your phone on silent, turning off the vibration and turning down the brightness. Your bed had one of those frilly bed skirts that hid the underside of your bed and you from view.

You stayed there for at least an hour before you heard the front door open and San’s voice calling out, announcing his arrival. Not that he expected you to answer. He knew you were already hiding and ready to run at any given moment. He had a method to his search with this game you played. He always started in the garage. Not that there were many places to hide but he still took his time searching thoroughly before moving onto the basement which was only accessible from the garage.

If you had wanted to change hiding spaces. This is where you would have done it. But as you contemplated, you ran out of time and heard him exit the garage entirely, shutting the door behind him. You could hear him move through the house, no doubt following the scent of your expertly placed bait in the form of flinging your clothes into random rooms.

You heard him call out again, telling you to come out but you knew that he knew you weren’t going to do anything of the sort. No, he needed to find you. That was the point of this game. You decided the bed was no longer a good hiding spot and considered leaving your room entirely but as you made your way to the door, the floorboard creaked and you cursed mentally.

You knew San would have heard it and immediately made for your closet which was where you were currently sitting as he climbed the stairs. Despite being as quiet as possible, you could still hear the wood give under his weight. After hearing his steps carry him past the office and his room, you heard the door to your room creak open and San slowly entered the room.

“You’re in here, aren’t you little squirrel?” he whispered, a tone of excitement in his voice. You stayed quiet as he neared the closet, sniffing before he threw the doors open. “Are you in here?” he whispered, starting to move your clothes aside but somehow he missed you cowering behind the hamper as he pulled back and shut the doors.

“Or are you under the bed?”

As he made his way to the bed, you quietly and carefully moved from behind the hamper, making sure not to make a sound as he neared your bed. You watched through the slats of the closet doors as he slowly knelt down beside your bed. “The scent is strong here,” he murmured as he reached a hand down to grab the edge of the ruffled bed skirt.

You quietly turned the knob of the closet door, making sure to keep quiet as he leaned down to peer under the bed. Once he was part of the way under your bed, you threw open the closet door and bolted for the door with a squeak. San let out a whoop and gave chase but you were took quick, darting into his room and sliding under the bed.

San followed you into the room and as he dove for the bed, you scrambled out from under it as he tumbled over the opposite side of the bed as you made a break for the door. San was hot on your tail as you tried to take the turn to head down the hall for the stairs. He tried to catch you but you ducked, slipping from his grip as you doubled back for your room as he tried to scramble to his feet.

You made it to your room but before you could find a hiding place, San tackled you onto your bed, laughing as you tried to wriggle free. “Not this time, little squirrel,” he said as he wrestled with you. Your ears flattened back against your head as you tried to free yourself from his iron grip.

“I’ll bite you!” you threatened, your voice coming out as a squeak. San laughed as he overpowered you easily, pinning you down against your mattress as he held your wrists on either side of your head. “So feisty today,” San said as he stared down at you, that familiar excitement in his eyes as you tried to squirm out from under him.

The two of you stared at one another, your ears flattened against your hair. San tilted his head, a wolfish grin appearing on his face in place of the smile that had been there before. “You’re shaking,” he noted, moving his hands up to yours, lacing his fingers with yours but keeping them pinned against the bed. “Why are you shaking?” he whispered as he leaned closer. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

You said nothing but he chuckled, knowing he was right. On a normal day, San was anything but scary but during these moments, when he had you pinned with that excited look in his eye, your subconscious couldn’t tell what was real and what was pretend. For a brief moment, you truly were scared. San leaned down, using his weight to hold you down.

“San,” you whined as he pressed his nose against the skin under the shell of your ear, inhaling deeply. You felt him nip at your neck, his teeth grazing over your pulse point. The feeling of his lips against your skin and his weight on top of you had an unintended side effect and as he moved, his groin brushed against your cloth covered sex and you let out a moan.

The atmosphere changed in an instant, almost like with the snap of your fingers. San lifted his head, eyes meeting yours. In addition to the excitement, there was curiosity, confusion, and what you could only assume arousal. “Y/N,” he started, his voice soft as you stared up at him, cheeks burning in embarrassment, heat pooling in the pit of your stomach as your shorts started to grow damp.

“Are you… turned on right now?” he asked. Before you could answer him and try to deny it, his pupils widened as he sniffed the air. “Oh,” he finally said, chuckling darkly. “You are,” he confirmed as the scent of sexual arousal started to fill the room. “Sweet little squirrel,” he murmured as he moved your hands above your head, holding your wrists with one hand as the other moved to cup your cheek.

“Likes it when I hunt her down? When I chase her? When I overpower and pin her down?” he asked, his thumb moving to brush over your bottom lip. “Why did you tell me sooner?” he asked as his eyes dipped down to look at your lips. “We could have implemented a new part to this game.”

“Wh-what part?” you asked, stuttering over your words as his hand slid down the side of your neck. “Had I known, I could have spent more time teasing you after catching you instead of immediately letting you go,” he continued, his eyes widening suddenly as he came to a realization you were about to hear.

“Is that why you always insisted on taking a shower afterwards?” he asked, chuckling as he leaned closer, his lips mere inches from yours. “Needed time to rub one out before you could face me again? Wash yourself off so I wouldn’t smell how much I affected you? And all this time, I thought it was just the smell of fear coming off you. Never would have expected it to be the scent of lust, too.”

You let out a whine, staring up at him and trying to free your hands. His grip tightened. San’s lips ghosted over yours. “I just need you to answer one thing,” he whispered, his breath hot against your face. “Do you want me to stop?”

You stared up at him, your heart beating against your chest. That was a good question. Did you want him to stop? After all, San was your housemate and your oldest friend, not your boyfriend. You lived together. If you said yes, you didn’t know how to come back from this. You weren’t sure if you could ever partake in this game of his ever again but If you said no, then everything would change between you. So you asked yourself again; did you want him to stop?

You shook your head. “Absolutely not,” you whispered, eyes flickering between his. “Don’t you dare stop Choi San.” With your permission to continue, San let out a relieved groan, capturing your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss as he released your wrists, moving his hands to the sides of your neck as he parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth, groaning at the taste.

You let out a whimper as you felt him rut against you, grinding against your cloth covered core. “Mmmfmmh,” San mumbled against your lips and you moved your hand to his chest. “What?” you asked incredulously. “I said do that again,” he whispered as his hands moved down to your hips, pulling you against him as he grinded against you again.

You let out a moan, head falling back against the mattress. San leaned over, pressing kisses down the side of your neck to your exposed collar. “Can I take this off?” he asked, fingers skimming the lacy hem of your tank top. You nodded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he sat back, hands sliding up your sides. He pushed the fabric up until he could tug it off, tossing it aside and leaving you half naked under him. 

You hadn’t had time to put on a bra or bralette when you dressed in haste earlier and now you felt extremely exposed under his heated gaze, moving your hands to cover yourself out of instinct but San grabbed your wrists and pulled them away. “Don’t,” he said simply, giving you a pointed look.

“Don’t you dare hide yourself from me,” he added as he leaned over pressing a kiss to your collar, leaving a trail of scorched skin as he kissed his way down your chest, stopping to take one of your pet nipples in his mouth, the tip of his tongue swirling around the nub before he sucked lightly.

You let out a gasp as you felt his teeth lightly graze the sensitive flesh, your fingers tangling in his hair as you guided one of his hands up to your neglected breast. He cupped the mound, kneading gently as he teased your nipple, drawing soft moans and whimpers from you.

He pulled back, dragging his tongue over your skin before he glanced up at you, giving you a grin and a wink before he continued kissing down your stomach until he settled between your thighs. He met your gaze, kissing over your thin shorts. “No panties?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t have time to put them on,” you whined, cheeks burning in embarrassment once more.

You heard San chuckle before you felt his tongue press against you over the fabric. “I’m just teasing you, baby,” he murmured as his hands moved to your hips, fingers curling under the elastic of your shorts and starting to pull them down. You lifted your hips as he slid them off, leaving you truly bare and exposed to him, the cool air of your room hitting your throbbing heat.

San licked his lips as he settled back down, eyeing your glistening cunt as he spread your folds. “You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this,” he said in a low voice as his tongue slipped out, licking a wide strip up your sex before he licked his lips once more. “Tastes better than you smell. Almost sweet,” he added.

You tried to respond but your words died in your throat, replaced with a moan as you felt his lips wrap around your clit, the tip of his tongue teasing it as he threw himself into it. Your cheeks and neck were burning from embarrassment from the sounds he was making. Groans and grunts as well as lewd slurping sounds came from him as he ate you out like he was starving.

Your thighs tried to close around his head as he drove you closer and closer to orgasm but he held them open, giving your clit a few more slow licks as he looked up to meet your gaze through heavy lidded eyes. “Saaaaan,” you whine, head falling back. He chuckled, his breath hot against your sex. “You’re so cute when you whine,” he said as he pulled away, kissing up your stomach and between your breasts before taking you in a searing kiss. 

You tasted yourself on his tongue as his hands moved to your hips. “Roll over for me.” he whispered against your lips. You did as he asked as he pulled back, peeling his own clothes off until he was just as naked. He reached over you, grabbing one of your pillows and folding it in half. “Lift your hips for me, little squirrel,” he said. You did as he said, lifting your hips so he could slip the pillow under your stomach.

You rested against it, your ass propped up as he moved behind you, spreading your legs with his knees. “You sure about this?” he asked as he took his cock in his hand, giving it a few strokes and spreading the precum that gathered at the tip as you nodded. “Yes,” you breathed. “Please Sannie,” you added, wiggling your hips, your tail swishing out of the way.

San guided the head of his cock to your slit, brushing the tip against your sex, gathering the wetness that was basically dripping out of you before pushing into you. “Oh fuck,” he hissed as your walls sucked him in, guiding him deeper until he bottomed out. “S-Sannie,” you whimpered into the sheets, fingers curling into the material as your cunt stretched around his cock.

“You okay, baby?” San asked, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin. You nodded silently, licking your dry lips. “I need to hear you say it, little squirrel,” San said, squeezing your hips. “Yes,” you answered immediately. “I’m okay. F-feels so good,” you gasped as you felt him start to pull out. He gave you a hard thrust, hips snapping forward and his skin hitting yours, making you cry out.

“That hurt?” he asked, stroking your skin gently. You shook your head. “N-no,” you replied. “Feel good, Sannie. Just surprised me, that’s all.” San leaned over, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Good,” he murmured, giving you another harsh thrust and quickly setting a rough and relentless pace as he rocked into you, his cock repeatedly hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Cause we have a long night ahead of us, little squirrel.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Him or Me?

LADS Men getting jealous over your latest hyper fixation. [Requested by: Anon]

Zayne

Who: Keigo Takami (Hawks) - My Hero Academia & Sanemi Shinazugawa - Demon Slayer

Zayne: You received another package today?

MC: Ahh my figurines!

You tear the box open in excitement while Zayne watches.

Zayne: You have quite a few figures of that red winged character

MC: He's my favorite

Zayne: He's your ... favorite?

MC: My favorite character from my hero academia yes

Zayne: and who is the bug eye'd one?

MC: Don't call him bug eyed

Zayne: Defending him now?

MC: His name is Sanemi he has a bit of a temper but he's really a sweetheart

Zayne: and he's also from your hero show?

MC: No he's from demon slayer

Zayne: Oh

MC: These two are definitely my top 5

Zayne: So there's a list

MC: A mental list

Zayne: Who is on this mental list

MC: Well number one is my red ear'd jealous boyfriend who's trying to hide the fact that he's jealous of these 2D characters

Zayne: I'm not jealous

You stand grabbing your figurines boxes as you move around him heading towards your room to build them.

MC: Sure *Kisses his cheek* jealousy is cute on you but don't worry no one can take me from you

Rafayel

Who: Trafalgar D. Law - One Piece & Itsuomi - A Sign of Affection

MC: Raf have you seen my sketch book?

Rafayel: *Avoiding eye contact* Nope

MC: Did you do something with it?

Rafayel: Nope

MC: Found it. Why was it under the couch?

Rafayel: You're a silly girl with a bad memory

MC: RAF!

Rafayel: What!?

MC: I'm missing like four pages in here!

Rafayel: Have you tried not missing them?

MC: Very funny ... coincidentally its only the sketches of Law & Itsuomi

Rafayel: Why do you need to draw that taffy guy and umami dude? Draw meeeee I'm your boyfriend

MC: I've already drawn you before

Rafayel: I only had one page in your book they each had two that's not fair *pouts*

MC: You're such a baby if I give you a second page can you stop ripping up my hardwork?

Rafayel: Make it four pages and you have a deal

Xavier

Who: Kento Nanami - Jujutsu Kaisen & Vash - Trigun

MC: Xav?

Xavier: yes my love

MC: Would you like to explain what happened to my Nanami plushie?

Xavier: I don't know what you're talking about

MC: He has mysteriously gone missing

Xavier: Are you sure you searched everywhere? You did work sixteen hours yesterday It's common to misplace items when you're tired

MC: I don't know I never move him from the shelf .... have you seen him?

Xavier: I haven't sorry

MC: Interesting ... my phone case with Vash is also missing

Xavier: You seem quite smitten with those two lately do you like them more than me?

MC: Xavier they're 2D animations they'll never be better than you

Xavier: Promise?

MC: I put it on my pinky

Xavier: 🥰

MC: Can I have my phone case and plushie now?

Xavier: Absolutely not

Sylus

Who: Sung Jinwoo - Solo Leveling & Shinichiro Sano - Tokyo Revengers

Sylus: What's so great about that show that you need to go to four different stores to get the entire book collection?

MC: I tried to get you to watch Solo Leveling with me

Sylus: I'm a busy man princess

MC: I think you'd really like it Jinwoo looks like a cinnamon roll and is a cinnamon roll but could still kill you

Sylus: Are you implying that me and this 2D man are similar?

MC: Hell no you look like you can kill and could kill ... you're only a cinnamon roll for me

Sylus: How perceptive ... and what book is that

MC: It's a manga get it right ... its Tokyo Revengers I'm still waiting on the next season but I need to know what happens because I need to see Shinichiro

Sylus: Who is Shin and why do you need to see him eat a cheerio?

MC: Not Shin eat a cheerio ... Shinichiro Sano aka the weak king

Sylus: How can you be a king and be weak?

MC: Those around you are strong

Sylus: Sounds like a kingdom waiting to fall ... are you almost done?

MC: What's with the curt tone?

Sylus: No reason we just have dinner reservations soon princess

MC: That's in five hours

Sylus: *Grabs the stack of books from MCs hands* My how time flies lets go

[rui-drawsbox]

remembering the most memorable mc's (with canon appearences) from the otomes i played

all of them are phone games btw. and looong rambling about the games after the cut!

Mystic messenger has been in my radar since i was in elementary school but i played it for the first time after the spanish traslation came out (2017 i think?) Seven shaped my type in such a specific way that im not really sure why loved him so much (it was the whole "he loves you in every route" stuff). I like a lot the default mc, most of the fandom did and that was enough to won me over

Rosa is top tier protagonist tbh, Tears of Themis has really good story and characters (as far i played, not a lot but i enjoyed it) The reason i'm not that much of a fan is bc the game is expensive asf and not very free to play friendly. You're either lucky or have a big wallet with the gacha

i miss my wife man(Marius)

Ephemeral has to be one of the best free to play otomes i've played tbh (if my memories aren't tricking me, it's been years) Good artwork, good storyline, good characters and as far i remember you can unlock one chapter of the character route per day (mabye two days, idk) and the mc's background has an important role in every route (she's a zombie! she's pretty now but eventually will fall apart, aaaaand her story gets expanded in one of the routes!) ((shes also adorable)) There's also a sequel, if you wanted more of the boys! never finished it but i'd recommend it

Honorable mentions! Huellitas Mágicas is a great game! has a really good cast with well fleshed arcs for all the characters, even the scondary ones! The game shines more for the development of *all* the characters rather than just the protagonist/ml. The main theme is overcoming insecurities! Each love interest has a different way of helping our (very insecure) protagonist and helping different characters with their own struggles :DD

10/10 i recommend this game if you want something cute and can be finished in a few hours, if i remember right. It also has a sequel! with like- 12 new love interests, also never finished it bc i didnt found a guide that worked for me but ñek

A3! is my canon event as a gacha player. Discovered the english/global server, tried it and got bored, left it for a few months, tried it again and fell in love, noticed the game was going to shut down bc low sales -HAHA :(-. This is not a otome btw, this is here bc Izumi has to be one of my favorite protagonists in gacha games ever

last but not least! Obey me! Shall we date? oh dear, what have they done to you :(. The original had intense powercreep to force you to pull cards -multiple times bc that makes them stronger- and even now, the company showed a lot of favoritism to some characters, leaving others to dust bc they don't make the same money. Not to say, they released a new game with the same cast and new main story (ignoring all what happend before). And let me say: THEY LITERALLY WANTED TO KILL THE ORIGINAL GAME.

Nightbringer might be a decent game but i don't trust the devs anymore, i still remember what happend with Asmo's birthday right after the release, and honestly i don't want to sit there watching how they disrespect my favorite characters again and again and again. Loved the characters hated the devs. 5/10 you can play it if you want but i don't recommend spending money on it, it's not worth it, just search #obey me here in tumblr and enjoy the amazing fanworks that i can assure you have a lot more love than the game itself

i miss my wife man (mammon and levi)

[somewhereincairparavel]

Annabeth Chase and Jason Grace - two sides of the same coin, an analysis post.

after a long wait, I've finally posted my analysis on jason/annabeth being similar, and mirroring eachother as rivals/potential sibling figures more than percy/jason's 'bro rivalry', based on this post of mine which has crossed over a THOUSAND notes in the last week alone, and I've been getting so many reblogs and comments asking me to expand on my tags in that post and do a full analysis. so here it is. I've been procrastinating this for quite a while now for some reason but I'm glad I'm over my writer's block and I got to articulate my post well enough.

annabeth and jason have had very minor interactions throughout hoo, but the parallels and similarities in their character is jarringly noticeable, which is why I hoped for a jason/annabeth rivalry and not a percy/jason rivalry. they've both been raised at their respective camps since they were literal kids, they were well versed in their respective fields of knowledge, and were well respected/intimidated in their camps.

let's start off with the lost hero

when jason first meets annabeth, he says that her eyes were really intimidating and fierce, so right off the bat, we have jason who's pretty put off by annabeth because she very obviously looked angry, especially since she was frustrated about jason's arrival instead of percy, and looked like she could kill jason to get percy back.

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

this parallels to a lot when hazel kept going on about how difficult it was to warm up to jason because his eyes were always calculating and cold, and he gave off an untrustworthy vibe, that he'd sacrifice anyone for the sake of the mission.

both annabeth and jason have a certain similar ‘look’ in their eyes, which have nothing to do with the color. they both have the tendency to make people nervous simply with their eyes, because they always look like they're thinking of new things every few seconds. Ironically, jason first perceived annabeth, the way everyone else perceived him. scary and intimidating with an icy glare and hardened eyes.

They were both said to be ‘studying’ each other in distrust many times throughout. A part of why they didn't trust each other, was, in my opinion, because they embodied their least favorite shared personality trait of each other, secretiveness and guardedness. which is why annabeth got on so well with percy, and jason with leo/piper.

they didn't admire the closed off-ish vibe that they gave eachother. they both needed people who were open and carefree.annabeth said that jason looked like he knew too much information, but chose to keep it all a secret, very similar to her own guardedness from time to time, keeping it a secret and wanting to deal with it silently.

we also know that annabeth and jason are extremely knowledgeable in greek/roman mythology, they both love debates and were quite passionate about history. they were both assigned architecture projects by the gods themselves as a mark of honor and favour.

moving on to the next most important point, they reminded eachother of the people they missed, causing them to feel resentful.

jason, barely met his sister after they reunited. he was bitter when thalia said he had to go look for percy to help out annabeth with the search. he was aware that thalia and annabeth were childhood friends, getting closer to eachother than jason and thalia ever did. she found a home in luke and annabeth, not even a few months after baby jason was thought to be ‘dead’, that knowledge would've weighed a lot on jason. annabeth became the sibling to thalia grace that jason could never be.

while annabeth? the only thing annabeth thought of, after jason had a face off with his mother's remnant in boo, was the fact that jason, who looks eerily similar to luke, could've experienced the exact same fate as him. luke was jason if he had more wrath and held grudges, jason was luke if he had less anger and resentment. annabeth could connect the dots so easily, and that was truly the moment where she gained immense respect for him.

and, when jason told annabeth that his sister was thalia? she had a very odd sort of expression on her face.

annabeth also quotes that looking at jason made her feel bitter, because he reminded her of heras exchange, and the fact that she lost percy for months. whenever she looked at jason, she would only see her two childhood friends, a found family that was broken, and a love that was challenged.

whenever jason looked at annabeth, he would be reminded that thalia had a closer contact to her than she did jason, and had to accept that he would never know thalia as much as annabeth does.

annabeth and jason also appear very confident and sure of themselves, but have second thoughts all the time. they had to put on a fake facade, to live up to their expectations and lineage.

they were both also sort of people pleasers, annabeth couldn't really say no to anyone who asked her for help with things, like carrying the sky for luke especially, because not only where they giving her a chance to execute her knowledge and skill, the thought of helping someone made her genuinely happy. jason also loved seeing people happy, always wanting to say the right thing to satisfy someone, even if it meant he had to sacrifice his own struggles to help them.

fatal flaws:

annabeth’s fatal flaw, is hubris. when you are confident and sure that you can do something, and have a sense of excessive self pride.

and jason's fatal flaw is the temptation to deliberate. hesitation and second guessing, to put it in simpler words.both fatal flaws are so different, yet so similar, and they have both flaws, just in a different viewpoint.

as a child of athena, annabeth appears super confident and even conceding at times because of her wisdom, but at the same time, annabeth had to make sure she was one step ahead of everyone. she had to rethink everything and had to have a plan in her mind all the time, fearing that things wouldn't go smoothly.

she had to hesitate and second guess herself alot, despite her knowledge, like she did when she knew she had to look for the mark of athena. piper and percy had to boost up her confidence with affirmations, to let her know she's on the right path and to just follow her gut. annabeth feels obligated to have a temptation to deliberate, because, as a child of athena, she has to be all knowing and wise, and most definitely cannot fail her mother.

and jason? despite having a very low sense of self esteem and hesitation, he was so used to leading the people who were considered slightly inferior to him in camp jupiter, and basically getting treated like a celebrity for 12 years of his life in camp jupiter, that often, he thought what he did was right, he had his own perception of what a hero should be, and I quote

[“No, no,” Jason said. “I made my choice. You’re not to blame. You don’t owe me anything except to remember what I said. Remember what’s important.” “You’re important,” I said. “Your life!”Jason tilted his head. “I mean… sure. But if a hero isn’t ready to lose everything for a greater cause, is that person really a hero?”He weighted the word person subtly, as if to stress it could mean a human, a faun, a dryad, a griffin, a pandos… even a god”- Tower of Nero]

which was normal, since he had everyone basically following his lead without question as a kid. he's expanded on this in his conversation with piper in mark of athena, where he said he felt weird to suddenly be around people who were either equal/or superior to him in power, and not being in the ‘lead’ particularly.

jason had hubris, but certainly not in a way that you would call it an ego or excessive pride. he was hardwired and brainwashed into having his own perception of what is right and what is wrong, that he thought he was always making good enough decisions, at least from a roman child soldier’s standpoint. [Like when he was okay with not saving nico because it might sabotage their mission, he genuinely didn't think what he said was insensitive until hazel called him out, because he was brought up that way. he thought he was doing the right thing, by prioritising the mission and the duty, first. Like the dutiful roman he was made to be].

both annabeth and jason, have hubris and a temptation to deliberate.

annabeth and jason, also had an extremely difficult time breaking free from the thoughts that their godly parents were always right. It took on alot of disappointments for both of them to stand up to their parents (and not just godly ones, mind you)

they've both had disappointing absent mortal and godly parents with a hostile stepmother involved and monitored with each and every one of their moves. annabeth has had to deal with her stepmother playing the ‘bad cop’ with her father not even coming to her defence, just the way hera came butting into jason's life and giving him terrible memories, taking him away from thalia, with zeus not even caring.

speaking of which, they are both the only demigods who have harboured the most amount of resentment for hera. just the sight of hera pisses them both off, as it hera, stripped off so much time away from annabeth and percy, and memories from jason, which he never permanently got back.

this is sort of irrelevant but I'll add this anyway, in boo, athena also immediately liked jason for calling out zeus's unfairness to apollo, saying something like 'the boy is right' and she gave him an approving/appreciative look for his wisdom, which is pretty rare for athena to say or do to literally any demigod ever. this makes me wonder if she ever saw jason as someone who had some sort of athena legacy in him, which is why she was so pleasantly surprised with him. ugh we could've so gotten jason and annabeth as potential sibling figures bc of how many parallels they have, too bad that the percy/jason rivalry narrative was pushed too hard.

I hope I've drawn enough parallels with their characters, as a lot of you have been looking forward to this post for a while, hopefully this analysis hasnt been underwhelming for you all to read!

@thevoidcaller @karmaajr @onestorytorulethemall @newlyfoundwren @thesummerstorms

[bbsmuts]

Career Advice ft. Miss A Suzy & AOA Seolhyun

A/N: I have a few notes before I start this one, first and foremost being that I got plenty of DMs after Special Fanmeet telling me the shock play was well done and it was a good addition to the smut, so I'll be incorporating some of that into more smuts in the future. My readers (as well as myself) have made it clear that they're into dom/sub dynamics, ownership kinks, and all that kind of stuff, so I'll be incorporating that a bit more. You're welcome, ya kinky bastards.

Is this very, very late? Yes. Is it very much overdue? Indeed it is. But will it be very good due to how much time I've had it a a draft? Probably also yes. Maybe. I don't have time to proofread things, so I never know.

This is a pitch from @phoenixwolf (who's been quite patient and a pleasure to work with), which is a pretty unique idea I've never seen before. It'll be quite a bit different from all my others, since the main character isn't in any kind of relationship with the idols. I'm doing a bit (well, in some parts a lot) of modification with how being an idol works and the perks that come with it, since to be quite honest I don't really know how it works and I need to make it fit the story better. So take note of that throughout the story whenever I mention something that probably isn't a thing irl. I have to use Y/N with this one because there's no way I can write it without using a name for the main character, which I don't do.

But after very much procrastination and too much time spent as a draft, it's here. I'm not at all used to writing a more tentative, maybe sub-ish character, so Seolhyun's noona kink solo might be iffy. And also just pretend that Suzy and Seolhyun are in the same group/under the same agency (Kakao) for the purposes of the smut. Also my first time writing a daddy kink. It's probably just about the same as a sir kink.

Point is, this one might be iffy.

-상훈

Length: 5.81k

Possible TW: Just about nothing, just a noona kink for Seolhyun and a daddy kink for Suzy. And of course my trademark, a sprinkle of light spanking/choking.

Tags: Threesome, cunnilingus, blowjob, dom/sub, daddy kink, noona kink, choking, spanking, fingering, face riding

It was just another one of those days; sitting, waiting outside a businesswoman's office waiting to be talked to. The small plaque on the dark mahogany door read "Kim Seolhyun, Ace of Angels". The plush chair I sat on had to be the best office guest chair I'd ever sat on, predictably enough considering where I was.

Explanation time.

My name is Y/N, and I'm a week away from debuting as the next global K-pop superstar. Or at least, that's what everyone around me is saying. I'm 19, and very new to the bustling, jolting, lively atmosphere of the agency's headquarters. I'm not even completely sure of everything that's going on. I auditioned for Kakao Entertainment when I was 15 and almost immediately got a callback from them. I performed two more auditions beyond the initial one and was accepted as a trainee with high praise from judges. I signed my trainee contract and trained for 4 years, during which they touched up on my singing, rapping, dance skills, physique, modeling sagacity, and overall competence as a future idol, all of which they had described to already be near perfect. From the day I arrived on Kakao's doorstep, I had been told I was going to be the next global K-pop sensation. And now I'm a week away from debuting as a massive solo artist.

To say I'm nervous is a little bit of an understatement.

The reason why I'm here is to talk with former and current idols to orient me into what it's going to be like. I've already had conversations with a few notable ones, and now I'm outside Seolhyun's office. I've also been told Bae Suzy is here to see me, which is something I'm excited for. Suzy has been one of my favorite idols since I was really young. ___

"Mr. L/N?" Seolhyun's secretary spoke in a soft voice. "She's ready for you."

I stood up, and with a deep breath and a small adjustment of my tie, pushed open the door.

To my slight surprise, Suzy was already in the room, sitting with Seolhyun behind the desk.

Suzy gestured me in, and I took a seat in front of the desk. It was very well-organized and neat.

"Hi, Y/N." said Seolhyun. "I'm Kim Seolhyun, and this is–"

"I know who you are." I said.

She smiled warmly. "Then introductions aren't necessary, are they?"

I chuckled. "No, they aren't. I requested to meet you specifically."

Suzy smirked. "That's refreshing. Well, it's very nice to meet you, Y/N."

Seolhyun nodded.

"It's a pleasure." I replied, shaking both of their hands.

"No, the pleasure is ours." said Suzy. "It's not often we get to meet the next K-pop superstar pre-debut, is it? Especially when he's so hot~"

Seolhyun hit Suzy on the arm lightly. "Stop, isn't it too soon for that?"

"It's never too soon."

I smiled at the compliment. "Thank you, Suzy. Can I call you Suzy?"

"Yes, of course."

"So," I said, preparing to ask the list of questions I had prepared in my head. "What's the lifestyle like, being an idol?"

...

"–so basically, to sum up that point, don't fall out of line. Not publicly." Seolhyun finished.

"Unless, of course, you feel a little bit more daring, like me." Suzy threw a wink my way. "Media goes crazy for a bit of controversy."

Seolhyun rolled her eyes. "It's a daring move, but your publicity will skyrocket over a scandal. Suzy would know all about that."

Suzy grinned. "Nothing like watching your fans start World War III on social media because you didn't wear safety shorts."

Seolhyun chuckled. "Some, like Suzy, like to rock the boat a little. And it's good for publicity; the media likes a daring figure."

"So you're telling me I should cross the line a bit from time to time?" I asked.

"Yes." Suzy replied immediately.

"Not necessarily," corrected Seolhyun, side-eyeing Suzy, "it depends on what kind of idol you are to the public. But a tiny scandal here and there does keep you in the headlines, whether that be a good thing or a bad thing."

"Ok," I said slowly, "that makes sense. Other than that, what can I do to start off with a bang?"

"You?" Seolhyun said. "You might not even need any of that. I mean, they said they could have debuted you without training. They said they were considering cutting your training short and debuting you early."

"Of course, that's when funds had dipped a lot," Suzy added, "but that's not important. What's important is that they were seriously considering doing it, which never happens."

"So that either means you're already going down Suzy's route, or you're one hell of a potential." said Seolhyun.

"It's the latter."

"Yeah, I figured. All the talk around here has been about you since you started training. All the higher-ups and execs have been super excited because you'll be bringing in a lot of revenue."

"Which automatically makes you a high priority, especially once you actually start making them money." Suzy carried on. "Low-profit artists and groups are lower priority. You? You'll be pretty much as high priority as it gets, which means you can exploit it. Use it to your advantage."

"However you want to use it, bear in mind the fact that they are relying on you for profit. Of course, if you get too cocky, there's always consequences, but as long as you keep in mind the firm boundaries, you're all good."

"Okay," I said, "so I can push my luck a little, just don't overdo it."

"Exactly." Suzy replied. "You're a fast learner. And I'd advise you to wait to exercise that prioritization for a little while until they've gotten a good idea of what kind of idol you're going to be, what kind of profits you'll make them. If you do it too early, they might think early on that you're going to give them a hard time."

"And if that happens?"

"Don't know. Contract termination at the very most, but I doubt they'd do that. But they can make your life hell if they want to."

"Okay, got it. What else?"

"Well..." The two of them thought about it, and then Seolhyun spoke up. "You could try Suzy's approach..."

"Which is?" I prompted.

"Sucking a lot of music producer dick." Suzy laughed.

Her reply took me be surprise, but I barely reacted. "Yeah, I'm afraid I won't be sucking any dick on my way up."

Suzy chortled. "I don't mean that, dummy. But there happen to be a lot of female employees, execs, bosses, producers...I'm not saying do what I did, but all I'll say is...it'll get you in the good books."

"And considering what you have to offer..." Seolhyun added, unconsciously licking her lips as her eyes trailed down me.

Despite myself, I felt my cheeks go a bit red. "Thanks, noona."

She blushed a little and giggled.

Suzy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Don't get her started, Y/N."

"What?"

"Seolhyun has a thing for being called that. Like, a big thing."

"Oh." I said simply. "Sorry."

"Don't be." She smirked. "In fact, that brings us to our next point, in a roundabout way."

"What's your next point?"

"If, as I advise you, you walk my path, play to your higher-up's kinks. Obviously they'll like it anyway it and therefore you'll be in the good books, but if you play to their kinks, it's like an automatic figurative promotion. I remember one time when I was dealing with this one exec who had a mommy kink–"

"Yeah, yeah, we don't need to hear that one." Seolhyun interrupted. "Don't put him off before he even debuts."

"I'm not into that mommy shit, but I can play along to just about anything." The implications of my sentence were not missed by the two of them.

"Oh, can you?" Seolhyun's voice was suddenly lower, quieter. The two exchanged a knowing look, one that spoke more than a book full of words. "What do you think, unnie?"

Suzy nodded at her and looked back at me.

"We'd like to offer you a special...orientation program." Her voice took on the same tone.

"Oh?" My thoughts ran wilder. "And what would such a program entail?"

"Oh, you know..." Seolhyun trailed off as they both rose from their chairs. "Suzy's route."

"Yeah, we'll be sure to tell the execs how good you are...if you're good." They approached.

My pants were feeling uncomfortably tight at that moment, and it did not go unnoticed by them.

"Ooh, he's liking that idea." The two of them moved closer, their thighs rubbing against mine, hands caressing my arms. I was suddenly very aware of Suzy's tiny skirt, Seolhyun's short shorts. "Let's see what we're working with here."

Shrugging out of my blazer as Suzy pulled on it from behind me, I rid myself of the extra layer and loosened my tie. Suzy's hands unbuttoned the buttons on my shirt one by one all the way down and pulled the bottom of it out of my waistband, leaving it on me.

"Oh~" Seolhyun's eyes widened. "He's quite the specimen, unnie."

I flexed my abs and arms for her benefit, and she bit her lip with lust in her eyes. "Can't wait to give this one a test ride, mmm..."

Suzy unbuckled my belt from behind me and slipped it out of its hoops, allowing Seolhyun to slide my pants down my legs and off my Oxford-clad feet.

"Looks like Y/N has a big thing too, unnie...damn."

Suzy came back around to have a look, and she smirked, nodding in approval.

"Nice, now that's a body that's had a hell of a lot of work put into it. And a massive cock, too..."

My face was going red again. "Thank you."

Seolhyun straddled me, sitting comfortably on the straining bulge of my boxers, barely concealing the gasp that left her lips when it rubbed her through her shorts. "Ah, enough niceties, let's get to your orientation."

"One at a time or same time?" asked Suzy.

"One at a time, then both, I wanna see what this kid can do first."

Suzy opened the door and disappeared, leaving me and Seolhyun alone.

Her voice dropped to a growl as she leaned into my ear, slowly rocking her hips on me, pulling my face closer to hers by the tie. "You said you can play along, hm?"

"Uh, yeah, I did."

She pulled back a little, her expression half eagerness and half interest. "Then make sure you do."

With a flourish she stripped off her small top, a sexy lace bra the only thing between me and her full breasts.

"Mm, you like what you see baby?"

"Yes..." I couldn't take my eyes off her.

"Hmm?" She raised her eyebrows, the grinding coming to a sudden halt.

"Y-yes, noona."

She smiled and resumed her grinding. "Good."

Something in her tone turned me on, more than the pleasure of her grating her hips on me. Usually I had a slight leaning towards being a dom, but something about her dominant aura pushed me towards the other end of the spectrum.

She got off me and slipped her shorts down her legs, straightening up to reveal her tiny little thong, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I caught my breath, cock now furiously straining against the thin fabric of my boxers. She slid back onto me, two millimeters of cloth the only thing keeping her heat off me.

"Can I touch you, noona?"

She moaned quietly at the sensation she was causing herself, and nodded. Her eyes closed and she bit her lip as I reached up and caressed her breasts over the thin lace fabric, pinching her nipples. I slipped a finger under her thong and rubbed her clit.

"Ooh, yes, just like that," she cooed. "You sure know what you're doing, had practice?"

"Yes, noona." I fingered her harder and took my hand off her breast and moved it to her ass, squeezing a moan out of her. She reached up and fondled her own breasts, and she allowed me to reach behind her and unclasp the bra, unleashing her treasures.

I took off my own shirt as she leaned her face down and kissed me, the gyrations starting to get more needy.

"F-fuck, I want you, Y/N." Her breath came out shaky as she found the perfect spot to grind on and jumped on it, increasing the speed of her movements.

I pushed my boxers down past my thighs and finally freed myself, and she gasped. "Oh my god, you're so big..."

She quickly rid herself of her thong and returned to my lap, lining me up with her entrance and slowly sinking down, suppressing a whimper as she felt herself being filled up. I stretched her out inch by inch until her crotch met my base. Her head fell back and she took a second to adjust, before she started to bounce on top of me. My cock was driven in and out of her tight tunnel, and it was overwhelming. She must not've had anyone in a while because she was certainly the tightest I'd ever had. She clenched around me on purpose on the way down, forcing a groan out of my mouth.

"Does it feel good sweetie?"

I didn't answer immediately, mind lost in the sensations she was causing me. Her thin hand slipped around my neck, not gripping but making her assertion clear.

"Does it feel good?" Her voice dropped a little lower.

"Yes, noona."

Her smile returned. "Good."

I pressed a finger to her clit, and moved it up and down in time with her bouncing. She kept kneading her own tits, moaning and squealing adorably.

"Fuck, noona, you're tight!" The pleasure was too good, she was going to make me cum. "So tight!"

"I know, hold on baby." She purred. "Don't cum yet."

Doing so was difficult, but I managed to stave off the impending orgasm and let her keep spearing her pussy on me. I brought my hand down on her ass, making her yelp, and she bounced harder, raising her eyebrows.

"Now now, let's – ahh – control ourselves, hmm?"

"Yes, s-sorry noona."

Seolhyun suppressed another cry and gripped my shoulders, humping into me with barely controlled lust.

"Such a nice dick, big and hard for me, yeah?"

I only moaned in reply, meeting her bounces with thrusts, jabbing deeper into her. She clenched around me harder in an involuntary response, failing to muffle her yells on each thrust.

"Noona," I groaned, "what about the–fuck–secretary? Won't she-"

"No, she won't."

I inwardly shrugged and thrusted harder, teetering dangerously on the verge of cumming inside her.

"Fuck, I can't hold on," I gripped her hips and pulled her down, jabbing into her. "Should I pull out?"

"No," she murmured, her eyebrows contracting. "Cum inside me!"

Unable to stave it off any longer, I felt that rush of pleasure, the tensing of my entire body. Her eyes flew open and she gasped at the first spurt. She rode it out until she'd taken every last drop from me, and then relaxed her body. Our heavy breaths eventually slowed, and she got off me and quickly got dressed.

"Fuck, you're good. You'll have no trouble in that area, no trouble at all. Rest up, Suzy will want her turn. And get at least partially dressed, she'll want to strip you too." She paused for a moment. "She's the exact opposite of me in the bedroom. She likes to be dominated."

I smirked widely. "Oh, I don't think I'll have any trouble with that."

She returned the smirk. "Neither do I. Well, have fun..."

I heard the sound of a door opening and shutting behind me, and two female voices outside for a few seconds. I pulled on my pants, got out of the chair, and leaned against it, facing the door. The door opened and Suzy sidled in, hands clasped in front of her. She bit her lip when she caught sight of me, and I got off the desk.

I let her take her time approaching, her hips subtly swaying with each step. She reached me and slid a hand over my bare chest, a small and shy smile on her face. Her demeanor had completely changed, something I was more than willing to take advantage of.

I snaked my hand up her chest and fastened it around her neck. She gasped and bit her lip again, leaning into me. I turned her around and pushed her against the desk, my other hand slithering to her skirt and pulling it up. She moaned as I slipped my hand into her black panties and slowly rubbed her slit.

"Mmm," she whimpered, "ohh yes, that's good..."

"Yeah, you like that baby?"

"Mmhmm," she replied in a high pitched tone, nodding eagerly with her eyes closed. I tightened my grip on her neck, and she inhaled sharply.

"What was that?"

"Yes, daddy..."

"Good girl." I growled in her ear, fingering her harder, and her breathing got faster and heavier.

"Daddy it feels so good," she moaned, then cried out at me circling her clit with my thumb. "Oh please daddy, harder!"

I slipped two fingers into her pussy and moved them around slowly, curling them down into her g-spot. She clutched my arm and took in a deep, shaky breath, mouth falling open.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum!"

"Do it," I muttered, busy at work on her pussy. "Cum for me."

"Ohh fuck, faster, please!" I obliged, moving faster and strumming her spots like the strings of a guitar. Her body trembled and her walls clenched around me, almost crushing my fingers. I slipped a third inside her and pushed, now knuckle deep. But I wasn't about to let her cum so quick, I had much more to do to her.

Suzy's eyes had rolled back by the time I pulled my fingers out, and she'd fallen silent in nearly orgasmic bliss. She looked down at my drenched and motionless fingers and immediately put on adorable puppy eyes.

"Please let me cum, daddy," she begged submissively. "Please, I need to cum..."

"Oh, you need to?"

"Yes, daddy, I do..."

I turned her around and bent her over the desk, then resumed my fingering at a much slower pace. She bucked her hips back into my outstretched fingers, whining needily.

"Faster, please!" She pleaded. "I need to cum, please daddy, let me cum, harder, please..."

I slapped her ass and she yelped, clenching around me again. "Be quiet."

"Yes, daddy."

I did pick up the pace a little, and employed my thumb to rub her clit, continuing the spanks since I noticed she enjoyed it. I was feeling an increasing desire to take my pants off and pound her senseless, but I wanted to make her cum with just my fingers first. And I was very, very close to doing so, judging by her facial and vocal expressions.

"So–good–yes–please–cumming!" Her pleas had spiraled into unintelligible babble as she got closer to her climax. "Harder–fuck–gonna cum!"

My shoulder was beginning to feel sore from the exertion I was putting it through, but I ignored it and kept pumping into her, paying special attention to her more sensitive areas and driving her insane with pleasure. Every stroke brought her closer to her release, and finally it was too much for her.

"OH F-FUCK!" Body trembling and writhing, Suzy orgasmed with a loud cry, her juices gushing out over my fingers. Her pussy tensed and spasmed uncontrollably on them.

Noticing her legs wobbling dangerously, I held her up and helped her into the chair. Her face was flushed red and stray strands of hair were sticking to her sweat-sheened forehead.

"D-daddy..." she whimpered, giving me the puppy eyes again, "I want you..."

I rid myself of my pants and boxers and approached her, seeing arousal flare in her eyes at the sight of me.

"Give me your dick, daddy." She sat up and reached forward, grasping my now-hard cock.

I reached down and pulled her hands off. "Hands to yourself, baby girl. Get on your knees."

"Yes, daddy."

She knelt in front of me, and I grabbed her head by her hair and pulled it forward, guiding my cock into her mouth.

"Mmph!" She raised her hands to my thighs and gave them a small nip as my shaft slid down her tight, squeezing throat.

She gagged a bit and struggled, but didn't tap out, instead massaging the underside of my cock with her tongue.

"Mm, such a good girl," I said, twirling her hair around my fingers and pulling her deeper. "Such a good little slut for me."

One of her hands left my leg and I heard an obscene squelch, combined with a moan into my dick. She was getting turned on by the little bit of dirty talk already.

"A stupid little whore, aren't you?" I continued, flinging out whatever dirty names I could fish up from memory of past sub girls. "Just a dirty slut."

She nodded and moaned again, her arm working more furiously beneath her skirt. I gritted my teeth and let my head tip back.

"Fuck, that feels good," I felt her self-pleased smile against my base. "Keep going, baby girl."

She choked and a little saliva ran down her chin, closely followed by a tear from her effort. She took the other hand off my leg and started caressing her own breast, eyes rolling in her head at the pleasure she was giving herself.

Her lower face was slowly becoming a mess of tears mixing with saliva from her sloppy blowjob. The mess she was making of herself clearly turned her on. From what little I could see of the face that was buried in my crotch, her eyebrows were turned up, I could feel her jaw starting to go slack. I gripped her hair harder and thrust my hips harder, drawing nearer to my own orgasm. But I wasn't going to cum before I'd fucked her, so I semi-reluctantly pulled out of her throat. She sat back and caught her breath for a moment before she stood up and bent over the desk, wiggling her ass enticingly.

I pushed into her with absolutely no hesitation, and she was wet enough that I didn't need to play with her any more. She was even tighter than Seolhyun, and I put my hand over her mouth to suppress her loud moan.

"Shhh." I murmured, and let go of her mouth. "Keep that pretty little mouth quiet."

I started thrusting into her, fast and steady. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk and she gritted her teeth to keep from making noise. I reached forward and grabbed her hair, forming it into a rough ponytail and pulling her head back.

"Daddy, it's too good, I can't hold b-back," she moaned, biting her lip. "You're so big, fuck..."

I fucked her faster, the desk creaking a little under the repeated motion. I could tell she was trying her best to keep herself from crying out, but I also knew it was coming.

"F-fuck, I can't...I can't...keep...quiet..."

She was shaking with suppressed pleasure and bucking her hips back on me. I slapped her ass, making her squeal, and pulled on her hair harder. Her tight hole compressed around my cock like it was made for me, the perfect balance between ease and resistance. I pushed two of my fingers on my other hand into her mouth, and she started sucking on them, moaning quietly.

"Give me more, please, daddy," she murmured, voice barely audible. "Faster, please...nghh yes keep going!"

My hips smacked against her thick ass with each thrust, the claps reverberating around the small room. I took my hand away from her mouth and brought it down to her clit, rubbing circles and pressing down, making the volume increase dramatically.

"Didn't I tell you to stay quiet?" I smacked her ass again.

"A-ah! Yes, daddy, I'm s-sorry!"

"Good." I resumed my fingering, making her whimper in her effort. It only took a few seconds of determined caressing of her clit to bring her resolve crumbing down once more.

"Fuck! It's so good daddy, please don't stop! Yes, yes, yes, more!"

I pulled out of her pussy and spanked her plump ass again. "Guess you're getting punished, baby girl."

"No, please! Please don't stop, I'm so close!" She desperately bucked her hips, trying to get me to fuck her again.

I didn't reply, but hauled her onto the desk and spread her legs, reaching forward to choke her. She gasped at the sensation of my head pressing into her pussy again, but nodded after a moment.

I snapped my hips forward and, due to how slick my cock was from her slick, easily pushed most of my length into her, drawing a guttural groan from her. She looked at me with pleading eyes, her expression indicating just how needy she was.

"Fuck my pussy hard, daddy," she breathed, "pound me like I'm your little slut."

"You are my little slut." I gripped her neck tighter and started my thrusts at a slower pace, still powerful. "Understood?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl."

She shuddered and moaned, eyes rolling back in her head as I fucked her.

"Ohh yes, that feels so good..." she whined, hands still clutching the table's edge. "God yes, please keep going..."

"Shut up." I said "This is your punishment, remember?"

"Mmhmm!" She nodded vigorously. "It's my–fuck–punishment..."

I spanked her ass again and drove my cock into her faster. This hadn't been what I'd expected when I'd come in here, but I certainly wasn't complaining about the outcome.

"I'm gonna cum," I growled in her ear. "And you're going to take it all like a good girl, aren't you?"

"Yes, daddy," she gasped, her walls tightening around me as she bucked her hips. "I want all your cum in me!"

Her words sent me over the edge, and with a groan I buried myself inside her pussy and exploded, firing my hot cum deep into her womb. A rush of pleasure flowed through me, sending the feeling everywhere from my fingers to my toes. My muscles tightened and contracted, involuntarily sending my hips into her ass again. She jerked and trembled as the waves of orgasmic pleasure overtook her too, a powerful jet of cum spraying me.

"Fuck, daddy, yes!" She screamed, back arching. "S-so fucking good, yes!"

I pulled out of her pussy and collapsed back into the chair, sufficiently tired out for the time being. Her legs relaxed and fell into a resting position, and she slumped back and laid down.

...

It was a little while before either of us found the energy to do much other than pant and sit there resting. I heard the door creak open, looked over the top of the chair, and saw half of Seolhyun's grinning face peeking through the small opening.

"Yes?"

She smiled wider and closed the door, eyes raking over Suzy's slumped and naked form before doing so. I stood up and pushed the chair aside, went to and opened the door, and gestured Seolhyun in.

"You up for another round?" She asked immediately.

"Hell yes. Think Suzy's out, though."

"I want to ride your face." Her words were clear and decisive. I was entirely okay with that, so I laid down on my back on the carpeted floor. She then stripped off the large nightshirt she'd covered with and stood over my face, giving me an incredible view of everything she had to give. With no further ado she lowered her pussy onto my awaiting mouth and started grinding. I had a perfect visual of her softly whining and caressing her own breasts as she rubbed her slit against my tongue, which was prodding, swiping, and licking any part of her that was sensitive. She let out soft moans, moving her hips back and forth and pleasuring herself on my mouth.

As I was busy eating her out, I heard a creak from the desk and soft footsteps on the plush carpet. A minute later, Suzy's hands slid over my thighs and my cock was suddenly enveloped in a warmth which I could only assume to be her mouth. I groaned into Seolhyun's pussy and kept up my exertions, very quickly pushing her to her climax.

"Oh, fuck, just like that baby," she moaned, biting her lip and closing her eyes. Her eyebrows contracted as I circled her clit with the tip of my tongue. "Oh yes, I'm gonna cum!"

I worked my tongue harder, pushing into her entrance firmly. She shuddered and her legs tensed around my head, a sure sign of her approaching orgasm.

"Oh, you're so good at this, fuck! Oh god yes yes, don't stop!" I smirked, my ego stroked, and bucked my own hips a little into Suzy's mouth. Her tongue disappeared from my shaft momentarily and then something much wetter, much tighter pressed down on it. I let my head fall back a little as she impaled her warm, throbbing pussy on my cock, the pleasure doubling. I heard a loud cry from behind Seolhyun and I automatically started thrusting up into her.

For several minutes more, Suzy fucked me and I tonguefucked Seolhyun. She had been reduced to mindless pleas for more, body on autopilot as she gyrated her hips on my face. I was apparently way better with my tongue than I thought, and it was only a few more seconds before all three of us reached our peaks at the same time.

I went first, blowing up her pussy with a deluge of hot jizz that triggered her to cum; her warm juices splattered my abs and ran down my sides. Seolhyun's grinding sped up exponentially and then with a scream she met her orgasm. Her cum squirted into my waiting mouth and she fell back into Suzy's lap with an exhausted moan. We all stayed there for a moment more, basking in the after-orgasm bliss, before a notification pinged Seolhyun's phone. She picked it up, read the message, and scoffed. I looked up and could make out a text from one of her superiors:

"Having fun?"

She looked over at the security camera in the corner and gave it a sarcastic wave before putting down her phone and getting up. She dressed again quickly and left.

Suzy stood up clumsily a second later, a small trickle of my cum falling onto my abs. She too got dressed and left, leaving me alone in Seolhyun's office. I stood up, wiped my own cum off my abs with a paper towel, and put my boxers and pants back on. From what I could hear outside, one of the superiors had come down to see what was going on, judging by the voices outside.

"–yes, he was amazing. He knows his stuff." Seolhyun's voice said.

"Suzy?" said a male voice.

"Yes, he's such a good dom, he's so sexy and confident..." She said.

"Good, good. Yet another attribute we can add to the list of perfections. He's sure to be a hit soon enough."

I smiled and pulled away from the door, ego points going through the roof right about then. The conversation continued for a couple more minutes, then the door opened and one of my managers came in, dressed in a suit and tie.

"Ah, Y/N." He said briskly. "If you'll be so kind as to put on a shirt, you've been requested by one of your producers. He wants to talk about your title track, something about the lead sounds on the track. I really have no idea what the issue is, but he said he needs you right away."

I pulled my shirt over my head and refastened my tie around it, leaving the blazer on the chair. "He's been fussing about that for about a week. Might as well go see what we can improve."

"Thank you. Now, if you'll follow me..."

I followed him out the door and into the hall, where Suzy and Seolhyun were both standing, still flushed red. I threw Suzy a wink as I passed and she blushed harder, giggling. A satisfied smirk back on my face and confidence swelling within me, I followed the manager down the hall towards the studio, feeling that things could only go well from here.

[ravenstargames]

✦ Lost in Limbo Devlog #13 | 11.11.24

Feels good to be back! This is our first post-Kickstarter devlog and I'm so excited to be writing it.

First of all— Lost in Limbo was successfully funded on September 20th, 2024! 🎉🎇

Yep, it has been almost two months, but it's still something to celebrate! Thanks to every single one of you for making this possible! We didn't meet all our stretch goals (there were a lot and taxes are a pain) but that doesn't mean we are giving up on those. More on that another time.

There's a lot of things we want to show y'all, so let's jump into it!

A sneak peak of Envy's postcard!

Raquel has been working hard on getting the "special postcards from your favorite LI" ready to send them to print ASAP! Initially we were going to use art we already had of the LIs, but we thought it was more exciting to offer y'all exclusive art pieces. After this, Raquel will focus exclusively on the rework of the sprites!

We hosted a few polls and got a lot of feedback. If you missed it, you can check it here!

Astro says hello :^)

As you know, the Extended Demo will feature more locations, including a glimpse of the MC's city, Faybourne! Astro is getting the main street ready for you and your bestie as you go on about your day. I've calculated around three / four different and new locations to properly pace the demo as we imagined it in the first place!

The writing deparment (me. i'm the department) has been focusing on the Extended Demo script. I have a lot of things to play with, like the flavor choices, the personality choices, and more. I want to create a proper balance because one of the things y'all asked for was more choices, and the pacing needed a bit of fixing, as we already knew!

The Extended Demo will actually introduce characters you've heard about, like your mom, your ominous grandmother, and your bestie. So no more talking about them, you'll actually get to meet them like we wanted to!

There will also be more time with the LIs, and hopefully the amount of time you spend with each one of them will feel more balanced, too.

Programming has been an adventure! Huge shoutout to Feniks for helping me figure out how to properly make a toggle for the timed choices as well as helping me polish the personality system. What a lifesaver!

So the timed choices toggle now works perfectly. That means you'll be able to turn them off if you'd like to play the game without being jumpscared by a timer—that doesn't mean you won't be able to mess up, though, on purpose or not :^) This is a dark game, after all!

The personality choice system lets you decide how the MC reacts to things including the nature of your romance with the LI. That means dialogue will automatically change in certain parts of the game to reflect the personality of your MC, some options will be locked, some unlocked, etc. There's three different personalities available.

For colorblind folks, the choices will have a different icon when you hover over them for you to know they're different!

Also, I've started coding some extra mini cgs Kayden's been working on! There'll be more in the Extended Demo to enhance the experience, so we hope you enjoy them! :^)

All the packaging stuff has arrived to our provisional headquarters (Raquel's home), and our business cards have been secured! Every backer with physical goodies will receive one for free :^) This month has been all about managing Backerkit, orders and merch, as well as preparing the Extended Demo. We hope we can receive everything very very soon and start shipping packages starting December!

For now, that's it! There's a lot of stuff going behind the scenes, a lot of things that need attention, and a lot of planning happening. Also the catastrophe the DANA has been on our cities is keeping me a bit on edge, but I'm trying to focus on work. This Saturday I'm going on a trip to Greece with my family, so I'll disconnect then! It's our first time traveling to a different country since I was like...seven years old? And we have been saving up and preparing a lot for the trip, so we are excited :^)

I hope everyone has been taking care and doing alright! Have a huge hug from the Ravenstar Team, and see you around!

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + nine

authors note: i know i've said this before, but this one might be my favorite. there are a few subtle hints spread throughout as well.....

i also listened to the song i named the story after while writing most of this chapter, so maybe recommended listening?

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: fluff, angst, language, inebriation, character being triggered, references to past csa, and suggestive themes

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 12k (i can't be stopped, clearly)

And I see a girl Who is learning to trust

---Leann Rimes

In many ways, Roman is a simple man. The kind that believes obvious gestures, actions, or even lack of inaction should speak for itself. That there are some things that are just so clear as day, it doesn’t make sense for him to have to explain himself. 

For him to have to repeat himself. 

Well, that’s gone out the window as of recent months, because he’s constantly found himself having to do just that. And his day is starting off no different with a surprising and unwanted guest showing up at his office demanding to speak to him.

Bayley stands across his desk with her arms crossed and an almost glare on her face. “I’ve been texting you.”

The fact that she even has his number is an issue in and of itself, but he’ll tackle that another day. “I’m aware.”

The avoiding of said texts is that obvious thing that she seemingly doesn’t understand the why behind. 

Bayley nods, very visibly keeping in a comment she’s at least smart enough to not make to the head of the Bloodline. Friend of his wife, or not. “Well, I would like to talk to you.”

Roman rolls his eyes, moving up from his desk to his filing cabinet to swap out expense reports he was trying to review before her rude, unwanted interruption. “I bet you would.”

“Seriously?” Ignoring her once again is the plan, Roman hoping that’s all it takes so that he doesn’t have to lose his temper before he even has his first meeting of the day. “It’s about Solana.”

And that is what finally catches Roman’s attention. He’s quick to turn around, expression suddenly hardened. “Talk.” She has his full attention. “Now.” 

Bayley takes note of how easily it is to gather Roman’s attention with the simple mention of Solana. It’s surprising to say the least and telling as hell to say the most, but she keeps this little observation to herself. 

“We’re having a Cinco De Mayo celebration at my family’s restaurant tomorrow night.”

“What does that have to do with Solana?”

Roman watches her hesitate for a second. “I want to invite her.”

For a split second, Bayley thinks she may have hit a stroke of luck when Roman doesn’t immediately shoot down her request. He seems to actually be thinking about it. And then he asks the question she knew would be the nail in the coffin. “Will Escobar be there?”

She’d like to just say no, as it’s highly unlikely he will attend, Bayley unsure if her cousin is even in the country. But, lying to the man before her has never turned out well for anyone, so she answers as honestly as she can. “I don’t know. You know he pops up at random times—”

Roman doesn’t even need to hear the rest. “My answer is no.”

She can’t be too surprised. Bayley wisely anticipated getting Roman to budge would be damn near impossible, if not entirely impossible.

“Roman—”

“Why the fuck would I allow her to be anywhere around that son of a bitch?”

To be fair, Roman’s relationship with Santos Escobar is tamer than most. They’re not allies, certainly not friends, and he doesn’t hate the man. It irritates him a bit how Escobar is a stubborn bastard and refuses to pledge loyalty and allegiance to the Bloodline, but that anger is eased by the fact that Escobar gives an even bigger middle finger to the Nightmare Factory.

His loyalty is to himself and the Legado Del Fantasma. That makes him a wildcard and potentially dangerous.

Roman won’t have Solana anywhere where danger could be present.

“You know as well as I do that while both you and my cousin have this weird ass Qué en es más macho thing going on, there’s all but a ceasefire. You've never attacked one of his men the same way he’s never attacked anyone in the Bloodline. That’s not going to change overnight just because your wife is present at a chorcha.”

Roman isn’t too full of himself to admit when someone has made a valid point, but as this involves Solana, the standards are a bit different. He won’t give Bayley that much. “Why should I even take the chance? You want to do something with Solana, take her somewhere else that’s on Bloodline or neutral territory.”

“My family’s restaurant is on neutral territory.” Bayley is happy to have another point of his she can counter. “And contrary to what the average, ignorant American thinks, Cinco De Mayo is an important part of our culture and our heritage, Solana’s heritage. I think she would really enjoy herself, that it would….that it would help her feel close to her mom.”

Roman is excellent in the way he remains absolutely unreadable even at Bayley’s point that has him seriously reconsidering his prior answer.

He has no doubt that would help her feel connected with her mom, being around reminders and in a space that’s so representative of half of who she is, who her mother was. He can’t see her not enjoying herself, which is something that doesn’t seem to happen a lot in her life thus far.

Just as he continues to mull over the options, Bayley adds on another defense. “I get where you’re coming from with the safety angle, but I’ll be there and Naomi will be there. Between the two of us, no one will touch her.”

Roman easily reads between the lines and identifies her unspoken request. “You don’t want Solo there.”

On one hand, he can understand it. Bayley not wanting his Enforcer there. Solo’s presence could be seen as him potentially scoping versus the real reason of serving as Solana’s personal guard.

Bayley doesn’t seem to be backing down, reminding with all the confidence in the world of her capabilities. “Like I said, Naomi and I got this.”

Roman will give her that. Bayley and Naomi could fight on his team any day. They’re just as brutal as the men, if not more when pushed. He knows they’d be able to keep Solana safe if need be. It’s that realization as well as the concern of depriving her of something that could make her happy that brings him to a revised answer.

“Fine, she can go.” Roman is quick to add on as an ominous warning, borderline threat, “but if anything fucking happens to her while she’s with you—”

“It won’t,” Bayley vows. “She’s our friend, and she’s family to Naomi. We look out for each other.”

Roman believes that. Believes that Bayley has seemingly pledged a loyalty to Solana that matches that of Naomi, and while he’d never fucking tell her this, he’s grateful she has someone like Bayley to talk to.

At his fill of socialization with people he doesn’t like, Roman is quick with the dismissal. “If you don’t have anything else to discuss with me about Solana, you can get the hell out of my office.”

Bayley is actually surprised she made it this long without being kicked out, so it’s under her breath she mutters, “a true gentleman.” She’s halfway to his door when manners get the best of her. “Hey, Roman.”

He’s back at his desk, gaze as irritated as when she first stepped in. “What?”

With a nod of respect and appreciation, she simply says, “thank you.” Whatever his response, or lack thereof, is after that is unknown because Bayley is out the door and on her way to invite Solana to what is sure to be a night of fun.

________

“Man, I tell you every dish Solana makes seems to get better and better.” Jimmy is rubbing his stomach as he places the now cleaned plate on the coffee table. “Where she been at all our lives?”

Once upon a time, Roman had a nice, quiet house that was his and his alone. Now though, it’s shared with a wife who really isn’t an issue, two obnoxious cousins who need to start paying rent at this point, and a dog who’s currently at the sliding door leading to the backyard having a one-sided bark off with a squirrel.

“Why are ya’ll always fucking over here?” Roman’s question is said with all the irritation manifesting in his muscular body. At the same time, he stands up from the sofa to retrieve the puppy he doesn’t feel like yelling at to shut up. 

She might piss herself in fear or something.

“Come on,” he grunts, leaning over and taking up Dulce who is almost instantly quiet. “Making all that damn noise for nothing.”

Roman places Dulce in her bed in the living room and returns to his previous seat on the sofa when she hops up and walks her ass right over to lean up on the sofa to stare at him with her unspoken request.

Jimmy is the first to notice this. “I think lil Nacho Libre likes you, Uce.”

Jey chimes in between bites of whatever Solana’s latest dish is that she’s made for them. “She know English yet or Soso still got her only speaking Spanish?”

“Man, the dog can’t speak.”

“You know what I mean, motherfucker. Damn.”

Roman ignores the two imbeciles currently freeloading in his house and relents to just letting Dulce on the sofa. He’s not sure why she’s downstairs with them instead off on the second level where the girls are getting ready, but she’s already here now, so no sense in transporting her. 

Dulce seems satisfied with her placement right next to him. 

“I still can’t believe we weren’t invited.”

“I can get why they didn’t invite us, but they could have at least given Nicki an invite.”

Jimmy is quick with the obvious answer. “You know Nicki don’t fuck with Naomi like that, or Bayley, and definitely not Soso.”

“Cause she’s fucking psychotic.” Roman has zero issues with his cousin’s wife having little to no interest in getting to know Solana. It’s for the better. As he said, the bitch is psychotic.

“Once again, Big Dog, you ain’t gon keep disrespecting my wife like that.”

Roman is as unfazed by Jey’s threat as Dulce is. 

“I gotta agree with Uce on that one. Nicki ass crazy as hell. One minute she love you, the next minute she pulling a Left Eye and burning your shit.” That emits a chuckle from him. His cousin's sneaker collection being burned in the backyard that one year was pretty funny. 

“Look, that was during a rough patch. That’s all.”

“Damn bruh, ya’ll must got a whole goddamn quilt then, cause your relationship been nothing but rough patches since we was in high school.”

“So what, you and Naomi never have no issues, huh?” Jey lives up to his hotheaded reputation, jumping into defensive mode. “Ya’ll just got the perfect marriage, right?”

“Of course we got issues, man, but never to the point where she turned into a lil arsonist!”

Completely disinterested in hearing dumb and dumber argue, Roman grabs his phone and shoots out a text.

Roman: You almost ready?

Solana’s reply comes in less than five minutes later.

Solana: Just about…..is Dulce by you?

Roman: Yeah. Sleeping….as always.

Solana: Lol….sorry about that, I meant to grab her before we got started.

Roman: It’s fine.

Roman: I need to talk to you before you leave.

He’s not surprised by the longer time it takes for her to reply. He can imagine she’s reading too much into his text.

Solana: Okay....I can come now?

Solana: I just have to put my shoes on….

Roman: I’ll come to you.

Roman knows better than to ask the bumbling idiots to watch Dulce. Their attention span when they get this heated is almost non-existent, so he opts to just take her upstairs with him, figuring he can deposit her in her bed in Solana’s room and that’ll be it for the night. 

One down.

Two more to get rid of.

Roman is standing outside of Solana’s door ready to knock when it’s ripped open, and he’s met with an instantly smiling Naomi. 

She’s smiling at the damn dog, of course.

“There you are, Dulce.” Roman has no issue whatsoever with letting her take the puppy, talking to it in that weird ass baby voice everyone seems to use around Dulce. He doesn’t get it, but it’s not something he desires to try to get anyway. Naomi calls out over her shoulder, “I’m gonna take her out to pee.”

Bayley shouts from inside the room, “I’ll come with you.”

Roman also has zero issues with that as well. He wants to be alone with Solana before she heads out.

Naomi is heading to the steps when Bayley walks past him, throwing out a rushed, “tell her she looks nice.”

That’s a given, but he gives her a nod, easily stepping in and closing the door behind him. He looks around the room, eyes settling on the connected bathroom where the door is suddenly swung open.

“Guys, are you sure I should wear—” Solana stops when she sees that Bayley and Naomi are no longer present, just him. “Oh, sorry, I thought—never mind.”

Roman would call her out on her apologies, both in the text and just now, but his attention is on something entirely different. 

Solana is fucking stunning.

Her dress is orange, thin sleeved and hugs her in a way that makes his jaw clench and dick stiffen. It’s more low cut in the front than he knows she’s probably comfortable with, but if anything, it accentuates just how fucking nice her chest is. There’s a slight split on the side of said dress that shows off her thighs, thick and soft to the touch, he’d imagine. She also has her hair down, something he hasn’t seen in some time, makeup that covers the scar, and lips painted in a teasing red. 

Roman has to catch himself because for a brief second, he’s tempted to completely change his mind. She looks too good to leave the house, especially without him present because there’s not a single doubt in his mind that she’ll turn heads.

She always does. 

Finally, he’s able to get words to leave his mouth that aren’t as filthy as the thoughts he’s trying to keep locked in the back of his mind. “Jesus, you look amazing.”

Roman has noticed an increasingly difficult time in restraining himself around Solana, not in the sense where he’d completely ignore her trauma and try to touch her in a way that would trigger her. Never that. More so in the way he fantasizes about her in that way, dreams of having her in that way, solely because of his growing physical attraction.

Granted, it’s always been there. 

Anyone could see her beauty even in how she would dress down and try to hide her figure, but now that Naomi and Bayley have been encouraging her to be less conservative in her appearance, it’s increased that difficulty exponentially. 

“Thank you.” The makeup on Solana’s cheeks helps to mask her growing blush at Roman’s unabashed compliment. She suddenly looks down, nervously running her hand down the dress. “Is it….is it too much?” 

Not at all. He might not want anyone else looking at her, but Roman could see her dress like this everyday and never grow tired. Still, his approval isn’t needed nor should she ever look for it. “Do you think it is?”

“I always think it’s too much.” It’s an honest answer, one that’s followed up with a caveat he’s surprised but pleased to hear. “But….but, I do like it.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Solana’s smile does something to him. She looks even more beautiful when she’s smiling. “Look….” Roman steps closer to her, trying to ignore her perfume, sweet and soft, a dangerous combination that matches her perfectly. “You need anything tonight, you call or text me, alright?” 

She nods and asks. “What about Solo? Isn’t—isn’t that his job?”

It’s not a conscious in as much it is a unconscious thing when he steps even closer to her, moving his hand to the small of her back. Roman gently tugs her toward him, and to his surprise, she doesn’t tense under his touch. “You’re my wife, Solana. My job is always to protect you. He just guards you when I can’t.”

She looks like she’s trying to memorize this piece of information, storing it for future use as necessary knowledge. “Do—do you want to come with us?” Solana’s hand resting on his chest is as surprising as her question. “I could talk to Bayley.”

Roman has never been a social person. To say he hates most people isn’t necessarily an exaggeration. So, the thought of being around a bunch of people he doesn’t know or like outside of Solana and maybe Bayley—she’s not entirely awful—is not appealing as well. That doesn’t stop him, however, from considering the question at hand.

He’s tempted to ask her if she wants him to come, because Roman can find it in himself to withstand socialization for a couple hours. 

He’ll do it for her. 

But, there’s another part of him, a larger part of him that thinks she needs to do this on her own. That she needs to establish a life and something for herself that doesn’t include him. It’ll be good for her.

“No.” Is his final answer, delivered much gentler than if she was literally anyone else. Roman reaches and plays with a piece of her hair. “Not my scene. Too many people.” Not to mention that his presence would draw too much attention, potentially not good attention. He won’t do that to her. Won’t’ risk ruining her night. “Go. Have a good time.” Again, for good measure, he reminds, “but I mean it. Something is wrong. You call me.”

She nods, and he readies to remind her of his need for words when she answers, “okay.” She then adds on, “I already gave Dulce dinner, so she should mostly sleep, but if you could take her outside every so often….”

“I got it.” He’d much rather sacrifice the couple minutes it takes to bring her outside than risk her shitting or pissing somewhere in his house. Granted, he has to give credit where credit is due. She’s doing great with her potty training. Solana takes great care of her, but that’s not surprising. It’s obvious how much she loves the puppy. “You should be back by midnight, though.”

It’s more a strong suggestion than a demand. Solana is a grown woman. He’s not going to dictate what she does and doesn’t do. She’s had enough of that in her life. He had to give his approval for her to go with Bayley because of safety issues, but this, he wants to leave up to her as long as she understands the later she’s out, the riskier things can get.

After a certain time, only bad or not so great things can happen.

“Of course.” She seems to understand this clearly, but he’d also bet that’s her preference to be back earlier than later. Solana grabs her purse and walks towards the door, having to pass him in the process. Roman catches her, arm around her waist. 

She looks up, curious, and he makes note of how she again doesn’t tense under his touch. That’s happening less and less, it seems. 

He likes that. 

“Text me when you get there.”

She smiles, and Roman suddenly feels a layer of his irritation with his cousins melt away. “I will.” Solana gives him one more glance before walking out the room. 

Roman scratches his beard, a part of him wondering if he made the right decision to let her go alone. Granted, he knows he would have never even initially agreed if he didn’t trust Bayley and Naomi’s abilities. 

They’d defend Solana as ruthlessly and violently as any of his best men.

That helps to chip away some of his second guessing along with the fact that this is something she clearly wants, and he wants to give her that. Give her anything he can that makes her happy. 

She deserves that much.  

Granted, that temporary peace is short-lived with the shout from one of his cousins who are apparently still present. 

“Ayo, Big Dog, did you change the WiFi password again!”

________

Roman needs a new house.

Maybe have Solana let him know what she likes as far as interior designing goes and have something built with an impenetrable wall around it.

That seems to be the only thing that will keep his annoying ass twin cousins from being at his place so much.

Roman just knew that when the ladies left, they’d leave too. But no, that’s too good to be true, because they’ve been gone almost an hour, and their asses are still here.

Even Dulce is sleeping peacefully like the unemployed bum that she is in her bed kept in the living room. 

And as always with them, they’ve been talking damn near the whole hour. One would think Roman straight up ignoring them as he works on his laptop would be a clear sign they need to go the hell home, but that would be too much like right.

He either needs an Excedrin or for his cousins to leave, the latter being preferred most. It’s especially needed when they seem to be watching whatever dumb ass Tok or Reel video over and over again. 

“Wait. I know that song,” Jey announces, face scrunched up as he tries to recall the name. All Roman knows is that it’s in Spanish and repetitive as hell on top of being played on repeat. Annoying as hell too. “That lil freak from Miami I used to mess with used to have this shit playing at her crib all the time.”

Jimmy sucks his teeth, asking. “What happened to her?”

“Man, she moved.” Jey shrugs. “She went to go be a freak in Cali.” 

Finally, Roman snaps. “Would ya’ll use some damn headphones or something?”

Jimmy is the first to speak. “You might want to watch this, Uce.”

“I don’t care.”

Jey slaps Jimmy on the arm, knowing how to get his cousin’s attention. “Yeah, why would he want to see a video of Solana?”

At that, Roman lifts his gaze.

Jimmy smirks knowingly. “Naomi sent some videos. Check your phone.”

That would explain it. Why Roman was out of the loop. It wasn’t from Solana. 

He’d selected a specific text and ringtone notification for her, so he wouldn’t be unnecessarily checking his phone. Hence why he hasn’t checked it since she text that they’d made it to the restaurant.

Opening up the thread that has himself, Naomi, and the twins, he sees the set of messages and videos.

Naomi: Having a blast! Solana especially. I kinda feel like the odd one out cause clearly I don’t know none of these dances 😩 I kinda got the Bachata one, but Merengue and Punta are killing me.

Naomi: Bay and Solana keep trying to teach me, but it’s not going well lmao

Roman watches them all. Every video shows Solana smiling and laughing as she dances with Bayley and Naomi. One of the videos shows her and Bayley trying to instruct Naomi who seems to be failing miserably at learning what he’d guess are traditional Hispanic dances. There’s even a clip of her trying to help a little girl learn whatever dance they’re doing, and she looks just as patient as he’s seen her with the kids she reads to at the library.

She looks fucking gorgeous and happy.

He likes that for her. After everything she’s been through, she deserves all of the happiness.

But, it’s in watching the last video with the song that he kept hearing on loop from his cousin’s phone that he understands why they have it on repeat.

It’s a different kind of dance Bayley and Solana do together along with other women he doesn’t know or give two fucks about. What he gives a fuck about and focuses in entirely on is the way Solana’s hips and ass move, rhythmically, teasingly, drawing out an uncomfortable tightening in his pants.

Fuck. 

Roman does his best to push his erotic thoughts away, still trying to figure out how to balance his sexual desire for Solana with the knowledge of her sexual trauma. It almost feels wrong, to feel and want her in that way when he knows how traumatizing that subject is for her. It doesn’t stop the desire though.

“Damn, I knew it had to move, just not like that.” 

“Like water.”

It’s probably a combination of his pent up usual, general and sexual frustration, but the dangerously slow way Roman lifts his head and equally slow way he sets his murderous gaze on his cousins is all they need to see to know they’ve gone too far.

And they know it.

Jimmy is instantly on damage control. “I meant—Bayley—you know, cause she—she’s also thick.”

Jey coughs awkwardly, hitting Jimmy on the arm. “I think, uh, we should—we should head out.” And Roman is just as slowly rising from the sofa when the twins literally almost trip over their feet and make a mad dash for the door. 

It takes a couple minutes for him to calm down, and he too suddenly finds himself watching said video, casually commenting to Dulce, “about time they fucking left.”

Dulce barks in agreement. 

________

Solana laughs along with Bayley and Naomi as they plop down in their seats after an almost four minute song of full out merengue. All are reaching for their respective drinks as Bayley playfully nudges Solana. 

“Aren’t you glad you came?”

Just then, Juanita Escobar walks over, Bayley’s mother who carries the same dimple and friendly disposition. She places her hand on Solana’s back, reminding in Spanish, “you must come back and see us again!”

Solana smiles, agreeing, “I will.” She then looks over at Bayley. “If that’s okay?”

Bayley waves her off. “Are you kidding? With how soft and girly you are, you can come be my replacement any time” 

Juanita glares at her youngest, muttering to Solana, “maybe you can rub off on my Bay, hmm? Never wanted to do girl stuff. Always wanted to fight with the boys.”

Bayley chugs back some of her drink. “Hell yeah.”

Solana thinks she’d prefer the fighting too. Maybe then she could have defended herself better. Defended her mom even.

Juanita shakes her head, looking at Solana. “Yes, come again, child. You look so much like someone, but I can’t put my hand on it. I’m sure my husband would know. He knows everyone.”

That doesn't necessarily make Solana want to come back, meeting someone, a man specifically. However, if he’s anything like Bayley or Juanita, maybe…maybe it won’t be so bad.

And maybe…maybe she could ask Roman to come with her. That’d make her feel moderately to significantly better. Safer, even.

Juanita is soon pulled away from the table by a customer at the same moment Solana’s phone rings.

Roman: You good?

Solana: Yes. 

She bites down on her lip, contemplating if she should hit send on her message. It feels like a risky thing to say, but it’s also how she feels.

And he’s always telling her to be honest with him.

So she is. 

Solana: Kinda wish you would have came.

Her fingers nervously tap against the table as she wait for his reply that ends up coming almost immediately. 

Roman: That’s your world. Not mine.

Roman: Do you not feel safe?

Solana: No, not that. I guess…...Nvm.

Roman: Tell me.

Again, more hesitation, and she’s not entirely sure where this desire to be honest and almost vulnerable with him comes from, but she does her best not to push it away, almost welcoming the slight discomfort that comes with sending such a risky text.

Solana: Idk, I feel better when you’re around. 

He doesn’t reply after that.

Bayley and Naomi share a knowing expression, having watched Solana quietly for the past few minutes. Naomi ends up being the one to lead the conversation. “So how are things going with Roman?”

The question takes her off guard, Solana trying her best to think just how to handle said question.

Roman no longer confuses her. Not nearly as much as her feelings about him confuse her. 

She wasn’t lying. She does feel better when she’s around him. And it’s not even that she feels unsafe currently. It’s just that he makes her feel safe in general. That’s such a foreign concept. One she hasn’t experienced in such a long time. 

If ever.

Because the truth of the matter is that while Solana felt an indescribable amount of happiness with her mother, there was never really safety. Not with her father’s wrath always waiting around the corner.

So while this is new and unfamiliar, it’s also nice, and she finds herself enjoying his presence. She likes being around him beyond the safety aspect. The way he talks to and with her, like he genuinely enjoys their conversations. When he meets her for work and asks how her day was or finds her in the house to see how her day was, it makes her feel like he actually cares about what she has to say.

Like he actually cares about her.

It’s such a stark contrast of how she sees him interact with others. Always on edge, it seems. 

He’s never made her feel that way though. Maybe at the beginning, but that’s starting to feel less like anything he’s done and more like her own trauma.

Trauma….

That’s also been an interesting experience. For the past few weeks, she’s worked out of The Courage to Heal, reading every page as instructed. And it’s been….an emotional time, to say the least. Definitely tears. A lot of them. Mostly shed in the middle of the night when she can’t sleep or on the bathroom floor as she sits against the tub, reading and writing, Dulce right beside her, offering that unspoken emotional support.

It’s been therapeutic and challenging and awful having to confront her demons but also freeing in a strange sort of way. Especially the poems. The words of other victims who express so eloquently and hauntingly beautifully what she still cannot. 

One of the things she’s really latched onto and tries to remind herself of is that there are different kinds of touch. Because of the assault, her brain has naturally associated any kind of touch as dangerous, which isn’t always true. Especially in the past few months. 

So, there’s been a conscious and active effort to remind herself when Naomi and Bayley hug her or playfully bump her, that it’s safe. That she’s safe.

Especially….especially with Roman.

Especially with how touch between them has seemed to also increase over the past couple weeks. Or maybe less increase in levels and more in frequency. She’ll find his hand on the small of her back, or him taking her hand in his, and sometimes, if they’re close enough, Solana also finds herself reaching for him, for his hand, her hand on his chest.

It’s all so innocent in presentation but something much deeper for her. A level of comfort she’s developed with him that she never had in any prior relationship. 

She likes it.

She likes him.

“Solana.” 

Jumping at being pulled from her inner dialogue, Solana remembers the initial question being posed. 

She clears her throat, finally answering, “umm….good. It’s—it’s good.”

“He’s not being an ass to you, is he?” She asks, almost protectively. “I mean outside of the natural ass that he always is.”

Immediately, Solana is shaking her head, almost feeling a duty to defend him. “No. No. He–he would never. He’s….always nice to me.”

Bayley nearly spits out her drink. “Nice?” She coughs a bit, also shaking her head. “Are we still talking about Roman here? Roman Reigns? That man has never been nice a day in his life.”

Naomi shrugs. “I mean, she has a point. I don’t think I’ve seen him be cruel to her.”

Cruel….Solana also could never find it in her to use that word to describe Roman’s disposition towards her. Maybe others, but never her.

Bayley sits on Naomi’s point, suddenly sharing to the table, “you know what, now that you mention it, when I went to go ask him if I could invite you tonight, he was ready to bite my head off for bothering him. But, the minute I said it had something to do with you, he was all ears. Like an instant switch.”

Solana is also all ears, slightly intrigued. “Really?” Doubt and insecurity creeps in as she weakly suggests, “he was probably like that with Samantha too.”

At that, Bayley and Naomi laugh aloud, Naomi nearly in tears.

“Now that is funny. Solana, Roman don’t give a fuck about that girl. Not outside of sex.”

Solana must look unconvinced, so Bayley points out, “think about it. She’s been around for years, and it’s not her he took down the aisle, so…..” She then adds, “arranged marriage or not.”

The girls bringing up their points takes Solana back to her run-in with Samantha in the bathroom and Nia’s jaw-dropping information. 

An idea appears, and Solana is instantly torn on whether to pursue or pop it. Something tells her it’s a bad idea, that she should take his information to the grave, but there’s also that side that feels like she can trust Bayley and Naomi to keep it between the three of them.

Sitting forward, Solana decides to take a risk. “Can I—can I tell you guys something?” Nervously, she stipulates, “but it has to stay between us.”

They look expectedly worried. “Solana, if it has something to do with your safety—”

“No, no that.” Solana almost feels confident enough to say that she’d go to Roman if that was the case. She trusts that she could talk to him if it was something like that.

“Of course, then.”

“Solana, you can tell us anything.”

And for some reason, she knows this to be true. It’s why she battles against her trepidation to open up. “It’s—ummm. I….I found out that when….when Roman was…..having sex with Samantha, he….” There’s a pause caused by the discomfort of such a discussion, but Solana manages to push through. “He said my name.”

Both Bayley and Naomi wear shocked expressions, the former of the two whispering harshly, “holy shit, what?”

Bayley then asks, “wait, how do you know?”

“Nia told me.” Solana has zero desire to wholly revisit that night in the bathroom with Samantha, so she only provides the important part. “She said that Samantha told her friend, I guess. T something?”

“Tiffy.” Bayley rolls her eyes. “Makes sense. That girl can’t hold water.”

“I don’t get it then. He obviously was imagining it was you and not Samantha, so why go fuck her and not you?”

Naomi’s question makes all the sense, but Solana doesn’t really know how to tackle it. This conversation is already difficult enough for her. 

But her face must give it away, Bayley seemingly putting two and two together.

“You two haven’t slept together…..have you?” Solana simply shakes her head, unable to verbally confirm and slightly mortified that it’s reached this level of detail. 

Solana is certain they must have a million thoughts floating around their head, starting with the how and why. That part…..that part she doesn’t know if she is ready to discuss.

An ironic thing considering she’s just started the chapter in her workbook on sharing her story with trusted people. 

The irony.

But instead of invasive questions that heighten her anxiety, Naomi places a comforting hand on her arm. 

“Look, I’ve known Roman my whole life, and the guy has been a dick the entire time. He would never hurt a woman, I know that, but he’s also never given a fuck about any of them either. So for him to be the way he is with you when you two haven’t even had sex……there’s something there, Solana.”

“I agree,” Bayley cosigns, saying what Solana has struggled to admit even to herself. “I think he really does like you. In his own Roman sort of way.”

Solana can’t deny the fact that it’s getting increasingly difficult to push away that possibility, even if she still can’t understand the why.

Just what has she done to deserve him liking her? 

Maybe it’s not like. Maybe he just tolerates her better than he does others for some reason. Whatever it is, she can’t negate the fact that it must mean something if Naomi, who’s known him her whole life, believes that something is there.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Solana just needs to get away. Just for a couple minutes. This conversation took a turn she wasn’t expecting, and she needs to settle her emotions. 

Bayley seems cautious. “Want me to come with you?”

“No.” The rejection is paired with a kind smile. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

And before she can get any pushback, Solana makes her way through the dancing crowd and to the back restroom that she’s grateful to see is vacant. Closing and locking the bathroom door, she goes straight for the mirror.

Despite the unexpected amount of dancing and slight sweat, she still looks relatively the same. 

The same….

Same.

Even with the makeup and tight little dress, she’s still the same person. She’ll go home tonight, take off the makeup and remove the dress to find the same damaged, scarred girl who can never have something like what Jimmy and Naomi have.

Even if Roman does like her, it won’t last. 

She can’t please him. 

She could never make Roman happy, could never truly satisfy him, satisfy his needs.

She’s too broken for that.

It brings tears to her eyes.

Unable to withstand the sight of herself, Solana grabs a couple napkins to blow away her tears, tosses them out and heads out the bathroom. Instead of heading back to the table, Solana makes a beeline for the bar. 

She’s only had white wine, but white wine isn’t enough. She recognizes where her emotions are taking her, and it’s nowhere good. 

Solana refuses to ruin this night for Bayley and Naomi.

The bartender is a young girl, pretty, early to mid twenties. She asks in a friendly, deeply accented voice, “what can I get you?” 

Solana is naive to this, to the great array of alcoholic options that litter the counter before her, so she answers the best way she can. Thinking back to the few events she’d be forced to attend with her father and brother, the drinks she always heard people order before getting drunk.

“Vodka and Gin, p—please.”

________

Meanwhile, Bayley and Naomi sit at the table still partially stuck on this unexpected news. But also not entirely surprising. With how sittish Solana can be at times, they have a good, albeit depressing guess as to why sex hasn’t happened between them.

It does bring up a valid question though.

“Wasn’t the whole marriage for the purposes of giving Roman an heir? How is that—”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Naomi murmurs. “But, I think we both know it’s obvious Solana has some trauma. Touch is clearly hard for her.”

“I know.” Bayley frowns. “I guess I’m just surprised Roman of all people has been so….patient with her.”

“You and me too.” Naomi blows out a breath before again reiterating what she said to Solana. “He must really like her.”

“It’s just hard to tell with him. He’s so damn stoic, but….I think you’re right. I think she likes him too. She’s just…..scared.” Fear is also something Solana deeply struggles with, though Bayley and Naomi both can recognize the progress she’s making towards overcoming those fears.

With a gasp, Naomi grabs her phone, directing Bayley. “Get your phone.” 

Bay is confused but follows suit just as Naomi says, “I know who may know.” 

Less than a minute later, Bayley’s phone dings with a text notification from a new group she’s in that includes herself, Naomi, Jimmy, and Jey.

Naomi: Sooooo, Bay and I were just talking, and between the four of us, how do you think Roman feels about Solana?

Bayley: And please be honest.

Bayley quickly ensures. “We’re not going to tell them what Solana said, right?”

“Hell no. We could never betray her trust like that.” Bayley is relieved but also not surprised. 

Naomi values loyalty just as much as she does. 

Jey: Man, I think he really like ole’ girl. Bruh got her a dog, seems to drop whatever he doing when she needs something, and I don’t think I ever heard him say nothing bad about her.

Jimmy: He was definitely annoyed at first when Soso had her lil breakdown at the Warehouse, but that didn’t last long at all. 

Bayley: Plus Roman is always annoyed with something or someone.

Naomi: Except her 👀

Jey: Why ya’ll ask?

Naomi: We think Solana really likes him too but is scared to push on it because of her past and just don’t want to encourage her to give it a chance if he’s just gonna hurt her. Ya’ll know how Roman is.

Bayley: A certified ASSHOLE. And a hoe. 

Bayley: But, it seems like that’s not the case with her.

Jimmy: I would say he definitely likes her too. 

Jey: I mean they are married so….

Naomi: It was arranged. That doesn’t count. 

Bayley: Do we know if he’s still fucking around? Primarily with Samantha since she’s been his go-to the past couple years?

Jimmy: I don’t think so. Matter of fact, I guess she said some smart shit to Soso in the bathroom on NoC and Big Dog wasn’t having it.

Jey: He’s apparently planning to pay her a lil visit….with Nia.

Naomi: Oh my god, is he finally gonna let Nia kill her?

Jimmy: Naw, just fuck her up real good, I think.

Naomi: Damn.

Bayley: That’s wild for him to cut her off like that after all this time. Def sounds like he likes Solana to me too…..

Jey: Ya’ll really think he about to admit that shit though?

Naomi: No more than she is. He’s stubborn, and she’s so insecure.

Jimmy: Ya’ll thinking what I’m thinking? 👀

*Jimmy changed the group chat name to Operation RoSo*

Naomi: Bae, what is this damn title?

Jimmy: It’s our latest covert operation. We gotta get Roman and Soso to admit they like each other!

Jey: And just how the hell is we supposed to do that? Like Bay said, Uce is an ass sometimes.

Bayley: All the time unless you’re Solana….

Naomi: I mean, not to be vain, but if you look like Roman, you can kinda get away with being an ass. To some extent.

Bayley: You’re not wrong. He is gorgeous. 😮‍💨

Jimmy: He alright, I guess. His ears kinda big.

Naomi: Bae, I love you, but let’s not lie. Your cousin is an asshole, yes, but he’s also fine as hell.

Bayley: That’s not the only thing said to be big…..

Naomi: Girl….

Bayley: They can’t all be lying.

Jey: ANYWAYS!

Jey: What if they’re coming together at they own pace and we should just leave shit alone? 

Jimmy: 😐

Jimmy: That’s about the dumbest fucking thing I done heard all day. What next you gon say, huh? That they just magically gon fall in love on their own too? No! They clearly need our help!

Naomi: Maybe less help and more a shove in the right direction?

Bayley: A gentle push!

Naomi: Yes!

Jey: All I know is if shit backfires, I’m not taking the heat for none of ya’ll asses. Ya’ll gon have to deal with Big Dog.

Jimmy: Then we’ll just put Solana in front of us. He can’t hurt us then!

Jimmy: See…..I’m smart with this shit. That’s why Imma be the brains of this operation.

________

“What do you mean she’s drunk?”

Roman’s night suddenly went from uneventful and quiet, his preference, to unexpected and infuriating, all with a walk from upstairs to downstairs where he finds Solana awkwardly standing in the living room. Bayley and Naomi wait at the bottom of the steps with nervous expressions.

Good.

They should be scared shitless, because one glance at Solana, the gloss over her eyes, and he can tell she’s all but wasted. 

“You were supposed to be watching her.” Roman is fucking irritated. He knew it was a bad idea to leave these two in charge of Solana.

Bayley, however, seems unbothered by his anger. “She’s not a child, Roman. Were we supposed to stop her from drinking too? We had no idea she asked for something stronger.”

It’s an excuse, and Roman doesn’t do excuses. “What happened?”

Naomi answers this time around. “We don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” One. They’re lying, and Roman hates liars. Two. They’re lying, and Roman has literally killed people for less. Three. They’re lying, and he wants to know why. “You’ve both got less than a minute to give me the truth—”

“Look, we talked about some things, and we promised to keep it between the three of us, so I’m not telling you what exactly it was, but I can tell you she’s not in danger.” Bayley is smart. She must know that he’d literally torture the information out of her if it had anything to do with Solana’s safety. 

“It was just…some stuff about her past. I think it may have been too much, and she decided to get drunk to not think about it.” Naomi’s suggestion makes sense and pans out, but Roman can’t stop thinking about just what she shared with them. 

Was it the rape? But why? He remembers her terror in the locker room that day, the fear and pain in her eyes and voice as she pleaded with him to not make her talk about it. It doesn’t make sense why she would suddenly share it.

Even with how close she seems to them.

“Just leave.”

Roman will deal with them later. Right now, his priority is getting Solana settled.

They seem to know better than to push his patience, asking that he at least keep them updated on how she’s doing in the morning.

He neither agrees or disagrees. It’ll heavily depend on how fucked up Solana is. 

Once they’re gone, Roman walks into the living room to find her laid on the sofa, eyes glazed over from her drunkenness but that same beautiful smile on her just as beautiful face.

“Solana.” She’s so gone that it makes him wonder even more again just how upset she must have been. “I need to get you to bed.”

He needs sleep too, feeling the length and weight of the day starting to take a toll.

She’s protesting almost right away. “I’m not t–tired.”

“Maybe not, but you will be tomorrow.” Roman knows she’s in for one hell of a hangover.

“I don’t—I don’t want to sleep.” She’s almost pouting, brows caved together as she stumbles through more words. Solana suddenly stands up, and he naturally moves closer to her, noticing the almost sway she does onto the floor. “I just—have bad dreams and—and you’re just—just gonna leave once I sleep anyw—way.”

“What do you mean by that?” He asks. Getting answers from a drunk person usually isn’t the best or smartest thing in the world, but something tells Roman that Solana is the type of drunk person who ends up spilling secrets. And he’s certain there’s a lot she’s probably still keeping in.

She then issues an unexpected accusation. “You—you’re—you’re gonna go be with Samantha—that’s who you want.”

Roman finds her question slightly ironic considering he’s been letting Samantha think she got away with whatever disrespectful shit she said to Solana on the Night of Champions. He’s letting her think she’s safe and waiting for the right moment to set her ass straight, Nia tagging along to deliver the physical message he can’t.

“Af–after all.” Solana continues, surprising him with her openness that’s most definitely fueled by her inebriation. “Why—why would you want me?” She points to herself, voice taking on a softer, vulnerable tone. “Why—why would anyone want me?”

He’s silent for a good minute, sitting on such a heavy question. “Is that really what you think?” It’s asked in a low voice, and he’s not entirely sure if it’s more him thinking aloud or if he genuinely wants to know if that is how she really views herself. 

She shakes her head, nodding in a way that further signifies how drunk she is. “It’s like you said, I’m mentally u–unstable.”

For a second, Roman’s confused, but he quickly thinks back to their wedding night, to his hurtful words to her. Words he’d give anything to take back now. 

With an almost frown, he acknowledges his fault. “I was wrong to say that to you, Solana. You are not that.” Truthfully, with all she’s been through, even if she was, he couldn’t fault her.

With a family like hers, she never had a fucking chance.

Solana seems almost confused by his apology, taking him back with the next thing that leaves her mouth. “Is it—is it true you—you said my name when you were with S—samantha?”

He definitely wasn’t expecting that, has no idea how she even knows that. Is that what Samantha told her in the bathroom? Why would she? It does nothing to make her look good. Regardless, drunk or not, Roman sticks with his word that he won’t lie to her.

“Yes.”

Even drunk, he can tell how shocked she is by his admission. Shaking her head, she says either to herself or him—he can’t really tell. “I—I don’t get it.” Before he can say anything else, she starts on this train of self-hatred. “She’s pretty and—and—skinny and—she’s not—broken like me.”

That does something to him, Roman moving closer to bring one hand to the small of her back and the other to her face. “You’re not broken, Solana.”

“Yes–yes, I am. You don’t—you don’t know what—what happened to me.” Her bottom lip trembles as she shakes her head, hands on his chest. “I can’t—I can’t do what—what she does—can’t—give you t–that.”

He shifts his hand to the back of her head, forcing her blurry gaze to stay on him. “Baby….” It tears him the fuck up hearing her acknowledge the lingering trauma he’s certain she’ll always carry to some extent, but even more to hear how lowly she really thinks of herself. “I don’t—”

“I can’t—I can’t because—” Her voice cracks, her eyes focused everywhere but him as she almost comes to this heartbreaking realization that her drunkenness briefly helped her escape these thoughts that have now returned. “—b–because they r–raped me, and now I don’t—I don’t know how—how to be with anyone.” She gasps and sniffles, shaking her head. “I should—should have f–fought h-harder—”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that, you hear me?” Roman’s voice somehow contains all the conviction yet gentleness he can muster. Hearing her even think that makes him feel something he can’t fully describe. It’s heavy as fuck though. “You were a child, Solana. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You were a kid.” He has to say it again, because that’s the hardest part in all of this, knowing how young she was. “You should have been protected, and you weren’t, and I’m going to make sure every son of a bitch involved in what happened to you pays for that shit. I promise you that. The same way that I promise with my life, I’ll never let anyone ever hurt you again.”

She’s clearly taken back by his words, by his vow. “I don’t—I don’t—understand w–why? Why—why would you do that?”

Roman isn’t sure he has an answer for that specifically, but he does have something else he can provide her, a small part of him knowing, hoping maybe, there’s very little from tonight she remembers come tomorrow morning. 

“Because someone needs to protect you.” Roman swallows, adding before he even realizes what he’s saying. “Because I don’t want Samantha.” He brushes his thumb over her cheek, intentionally wiping her tears. “I want you.”

And suddenly, it’s so much easier to say it aloud, to voice to her what he still doesn’t entirely understand, why he feels drawn to her in ways he doesn’t understand. There’s a connection almost, a connection of mutual loss that’s formed some sort of bridge Roman is unsure just when he started crossing 

She looks more stunned at his admission than anything else he’s ever said to her. Still, she seems to try to discredit him. “But—but she—”

“She’s not you.” His voice unintentionally softens. “No one’s like you.”

Selfishly, he hopes she doesn’t remember much or any of this conversation, less painful for her, more time for him to figure out what it is about this woman that he feels so deeply drawn to.

Again, she tries to downplay her worth. “I can’t—I can’t—give you what you need.”

And somehow he knows exactly what she means. What she’s referring to.

“I don’t need that from you.” Truth be told, he doesn’t want to need anything from her. Needing anything in general has never been his thing. He just knows that, for some reason, he wants her around.

He likes having her around him. 

She’s blinking again and places her hand against her head, sharing, “my h–head hurts.” It’s not an intentional deflection, he’s certain, but it’s appreciated.

This is a much deeper conversation than he anticipated having tonight.

“You need to get to bed. The sooner you can start sleeping this off, the better.” He eyes her skeptically, asking, “can you walk?”

He should have already known the answer, because the minute she tries to pull away from him to walk, she sways almost immediately, Roman going right back to holding her. “Come here.” He expects her to tense up as he moves to lift her up bridal style, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look confused, clearly overwhelmed with all of her emotions. 

Roman doesn’t say anything as he carries her up the stairs and doesn’t think twice about taking her to his room instead of hers. 

He needs to monitor her tonight, and that’s easier done with her in his room.

She looks around still confused but doesn’t say anything as Roman lowers her down on the edge of his bed. Naturally, he’s on one knee before her.

“I’m gonna take these off.” He refers to her heels which could largely be a contributing factor for her to inability to walk. She nods, and he quickly unstraps and tosses the heels to the side. “Do you want to change?”

She nods and then adds, “I don’t have—my clothes….”

Roman is at his dresser, pulling out a shirt that he reaches to her. “You can wear this for tonight.”

She accepts it from him, turning to walk to the bathroom, Roman relieved to see the removal of her heels helps her to at least make it without falling.

While she’s changing, he heads back downstairs to get Dulce.

He knows she’s used to sleeping with Solana and will probably throw a fit or spend the night crying if that doesn’t happen, so a small sacrifice is made as he also brings up Dulce’s bed from the living room and places it on the side of his bed.

One night of her sleeping in his room won’t kill him.

It’s then that Solana walks out the bathroom, changed out of her dress and her face free from the makeup. 

“I washed my face….hope that was o–okay.”

“It’s fine, Solana.” Roman is half expecting to have to instruct her to lay down, but she again stays with the theme of surprises tonight and walks over to the bed, pulling back the covers and climbing in. 

He’s again ready to explain that he’ll be in the guest room across the hall but will be available if she needs anything. He’ll still be checking in on her occasionally, regardless.

But, before he can explain as such, she asks in the softest, most vulnerable voice, “will you lay with me?”

It’s an extremely unexpected question with an easy answer.

Roman’s answer is to move into the bed with her, half expecting her to freak out in one way or another. This close proximity is so unlike her, a complete contrast to what she’s usually comfortable with.

However, what he doesn’t expect is the way Solana moves her body close against his, pressing herself into his side, arm over his stomach and head on his chest.

In a switching of roles, Roman is the one to initially tense. This is more physical contact than they’ve ever had, and there’s not a doubt in his mind that if not for the alcohol in her system, she’d have a fucking meltdown touching him this much.

But in her drunken, highly intoxicated state, that’s not an issue. She wants to be close to him, wants to be pressed up against him. 

She’s looking for comfort.

And truthfully, he wants it too. Roman likes the feel of her next to him, actually uses his other arm to tug her closer, noticing how she adjusts her head on his chest.

Her hand is planted against his chest, and he starts to tell her to rest, to encourage her to sleep this off. But, she once again beats him to it, asking yet another question. 

“Why—why are you doing this?”

To be fair, Roman only answers her truthfully because he’s betting on her being so close to the edge of sleep that the chances of her remembering this rare shred of vulnerability are slim to none.

“Because—because I know what it’s like to not have anyone.” There’s a sense of hesitation and discomfort as he verbalizes what he’s never once openly discussed with anyone. “Because I didn’t just lose my mom when I was ten. I lost my entire family. My parents. My aunt. My uncle. And all of my siblings. I—I was the only one who made it out alive that night, and I spent years not knowing why, why I was left alone.”

Roman doesn’t want sympathy, doesn’t want people feeling fucking sorry for him. He never has. But the way Solana lifts her head to look at him is a look of something else, something that likens understanding and compassion.

The latter of which is almost an unfamiliar concept. 

“I didn’t—I’m sorry.” She lays her head back against his chest, moving even closer. She then murmurs into him, almost reassuringly, “you don’t—you don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Roman doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn’t.

He says nothing.

________

Waking up in Roman’s bed wearing only his shirt is the last thing Solana expects along with the fact that the minute her eyes open, she’s hit with instant throbbing of her head.

She winces, confused about so many things as she forces herself to sit up, mind immediately wandering to a single question.

Where is Roman?

Her question is easily answered when she spots the notebook on his nightstand. She reaches for it, squinted eyes reading over his words.

Solana,

I’m sorry I had to leave. I have a meeting with the Elders I, unfortunately, can’t miss. I’ll be back right after.

If not for that, I would have stayed with you.

You most likely won’t remember last night, but you got drunk. Very. You’re gonna wake up with a nasty hangover. Take the Aspirin. It’ll help. 

I gave Dulce her breakfast and took her outside. She should be fine. 

I also let your job know you’re not coming in today.

Rest.

Roman

There’s so much to process in such a straightforward letter. What did he mean by stay with her? Did—did they sleep in the same bed? 

For some reason, that’s not as anxiety inducing as she imagined it would be. She doesn’t know the why or how, but it doesn't bring that heavy weight on her chest.

The drunk part triggers brief memories of the night prior. Bayley and Naomi. The celebration. Dancing. Fun. Happiness.

A switch.

At some point in the night, her mood shifted into something else. Solana remembers asking for a drink, but she doesn’t remember much after that. Glimpses. An almost sympathetic look from Roman. His arms around her. Him holding her.

It makes for a confusing story she doesn’t really have the wherewithal to deal with. She instead reaches over and swallows the Aspirin. 

And she goes right back to sleep.

________

Roman finds himself completely bypassing his office, clearing his schedule, and moving his phone’s status to Do Not Disturb.

He’s not in the mood to deal with any of that shit today. At least not for a couple more hours. He needs to make sure Solana is situated first. 

Thinking about her resurfaces his earlier level of anger at how the meeting with the Elders ended.

“What of the girl?”

This was the part of the hour meeting that caught his attention the most. Everything else was trivial and, in his opinion, a waste of time. But, it’s when Elder Aleki brings up Solana that Roman’s focus is recentered.

“What about her?”

He’s not stupid. Far from it. Roman knows exactly where this is headed. It was partially expected. What he didn’t expect was the anger that’s already brewing at just how Solana was referred to as ‘the girl.’

Aleki is bold with his questioning, jumping straight to the point. “Is she still not pregnant yet? It’s been almost four months.”

Roman’s jaw clenches, and he finds himself squeezing the armrest of his chair as he does his best to keep his voice somewhat subdued. “I’m aware of how long it’s been.”

Another elder, Sione, decides to join in on this conversation that Roman is about to shut down in less than a minute. “Perhaps she should have another medical evaluation. By one of our doctors—”

“The hell she will.”

Rikishi shoots Roman a warning look, quietly, muttering an equally pleading, “language, Uce.”

Roman straight up ignores him. Rikishi still adheres to those outdated traditions that just because someone has more years on this earth than you that they automatically deserve respect. Fuck that. Roman gives respect when it’s earned, and Aleki and Sione have been on his shit list for years.

He’ll never forgive them for their behavior after the death of his family, their questioning of Roman’s birthright to the throne.

Aleki releases a heavy sigh, and Roman has to restrain himself from not bashing the old man’s head into the table. “All we’re saying is if she is incapable of producing a child to continue the Bloodline, then we have no use for her and should seek to find you a better—”

That’s when Roman has enough. To suggest Solana be examined again. which would no doubt be triggering as fuck for her, is one thing. But, it’s an entirely different thing for them to have the unmitigated gall to suggest he get rid of her.

Over his dead fucking body.

Roman shoots up from the chair. “My wife isn’t going anywhere nor is anyone at this fucking table going to make her do shit.”

Rikishi shoots more than just his subtle warning this time around. “Roman, please—”

Roman’s not trying to hear that shit from him, though. He’s not trying to hear shit from anyone. 

“Our marriage is nobody’s fucking business but our own. That includes when she gets pregnant. We’ll share it when we want to.”

Truthfully speaking, this isn’t something Roman has thought much about, an intentional thing. The fact that the marriage was originally and solely arranged so that she could give him an heir is irrelevant to him right now, regardless of what they think.

That’s not a priority. 

“You may be the Elders, but I sit at the head of the table.” The Bloodline has always been successful and profitable, but it’s no doubt exceeded any and all records and expectations since Roman became the head. That’s an indisputable fact. “Don’t fucking forget who made this table what it is today.”

The ending of the meeting is still playing in the back of his head like a bad song on repeat. If not for his semi level of respect and acknowledgement of their standing as Elders, he would have put a bullet in their heads the minute that disrespectful shit started leaving their mouths.

In no fucking universe is anyone taking Solana from him. He doesn’t give a flying fuck whatever the original reason was for their marriage. She’s his now, and nothing is changing that. 

Roman makes active efforts to calm himself before walking back into the house. After last night, the last thing she needs is to be unintentionally triggered. 

He finds her on the sofa, writing in her journal, Dulce right beside her sleeping peacefully without a care in the fucking world. Roman halfway expected her to be out back on the patio, a seemingly favorite spot of hers.

But the sunlight would no doubt exacerbate the remnants of her hangover he’s certain she’s still battling, so it makes sense she’s indoors. It’s when she looks up, noticing his presence that Roman also realizes she’s still only wearing his shirt. 

For some strange reason, he likes that. Likes seeing her in his clothes.

“Hey…”

“Hey.” Roman sits on the sofa opposite from her. He takes her in, watching her set her journal to the side and as he notices her hair is pulled up. “How you feeling?”

She shrugs, making a face that suggests some level of discomfort. “My head still kinda hurts, but I guess—that’s to be expected.” He starts to ask her if she’s drunk enough water, recognizing the importance of staying hydrated a night after heavy drinking, but she’s suddenly pleading with him almost. “Please don’t be upset with Bayley and Naomi. It’s not their fault.”

To be fair, he hadn’t thought about them until now. “They were supposed to watch you.”

“They did. I—I got back fine.” She seems almost worried for them, for their safety. He would never actually kill either woman. He’ll just probably never trust them to take Solana out again in life. But no murder would actually happen. Still, it’s the part where Solana says she got back fine that irks him. He does his best to mask that irritation though. 

“You weren’t fine last night, Solana.” She was far from it, more emotional than he’s seen her in some time, if ever. 

Her shoulders drop, almost in shame. “I don’t—I don’t remember much of it.”

He’s thankful for that. For the both of them. “You were upset.” It’s not a lie nor is it specific. It’s just the truth. 

She then asks with almost hesitant curiosity. “W–what did I say?”

Roman shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He doesn’t like being dismissive towards her, doesn’t like being dishonest, something he swore he wouldn’t do. But, she was an emotional wreck last night, and the last thing he wants is for her to go through all of those emotions yet again.

He doesn’t like seeing her upset.

But then she looks at him, studying him almost, a sad, almost tearful chuckle leaving her mouth. He watches as she brings her legs up to her chest and rests her chin against her knees. She asks, volume barely over a whisper, “I told you last night, didn’t I?” Roman realizes it’s less a question and more a heavy realization. “That—that I was raped. Didn’t I?”

It’s a bit of a lose–lose situation. Either he tells her no and risks her feeling bad for sharing something she didn’t have to or he confirms what she already knows and still feels not great.

They’re both shitty options, but he ultimately goes the route of honesty. “Yes.”

“It’s weird. I—” She looks away, eyes shutting for a minute before she unexpectedly explains, “I’ve been—I’ve been working out of this book for people who were…assaulted like me, and I’m–at the part where its recommended I tell at least one person because—because it’s not healthy to keep it to myself.” 

Roman knows exactly what book she’s talking about. It was the key that led to him figuring out just what happened to her. That still fucks with him. Still makes him fill with silent rage at her piece of shit family letting that happen to her. 

“You’re now the first person I’ve ever told.” Roman hates that even more.. Hates that someone like him is who she ended up breaking her silence with. He wishes it was either Bayley or Naomi. They’re much better at this sort of thing. The feelings thing. “I don’t—I don’t like talking about it.”

“You don’t have to.” He isn’t sure he’d be able to control his anger hearing details, hearing anything about it to be honest, not coming from her. His rage would be intractable. 

She nods, almost appreciatively. “That's why sex is—it’s hard for me.” He fully understands that, and a small part of him hates how he tried to initiate that with her on their wedding night. He figured her nerves were because of her naturally anxious personality. Never once did it cross his mind that it was because of something much darker. “And it’s not—it’s not like I don’t think about it sometimes, about being close to someone like that, I do.” This piece does surprise him, but he works hard not to think too much about it right now. He wants to be in this moment with her. “ I—I have. But, every time I try, I just—I get flashbacks, and I can’t.” She ends on an almost whisper, Roman’s stomach tightening as she quickly wipes at a tear. 

He doesn’t like seeing her cry. 

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Solana.” Not him or anyone else, for that matter. 

She doesn’t say anything for a good minute before asking, “what happens now?”

That’s a great fucking question, and he almost has the same towards a lot of things. He’s curious though what she’s specifically referring to. “What do you mean?”

Solana seems almost frightened as she asks, “are you—are you gonna send me back to my father?” 

Yeah, he could have never in a million years guessed that. “Why would you ever think I would do that?”

And he suddenly hates asking, hates seeing the way the emotion builds back up. “I’m not—not a virgin, and—” Her eyes close, her grip around her legs tightening. “You….you only married me because—”

“I don’t care about that.” This is his second time today having to face some level of this discussion, but this round is significantly gentler. Roman does his best to illustrate the conviction in his voice while also being mindful of her emotions. “What do you want, Solana?”

He has no idea what she’s going to say, but he does know for a fact he would never send her back to that hellhole. It would be like sending her to her own death. 

She seems to really think about his question, think about something he’s certain she’s never had a lot of. 

Options. 

Finally, after what feels like hours, she answers. “I want to stay here.” Roman’s unsure why he feels a small sense of relief at her answer, like anything other than that would have made him uncomfortable or upset. Solana wets her lips, continuing, “I like—I like living here.” And in an even smaller voice, she adds, “I like being with you.”

He doesn’t say anything, and neither does she. Roman is certain it’s because they’re both trying to process and register what this may mean, what this new piece of information means for them moving forward. 

Roman sits forward and motions with his index and middle finger. “Come here.”

He sees it instantly. The initial hesitation, the brief flash of fear, but it’s gone before he can offer reassurance. Solana lowers her legs and walks over to him, Dulce remaining sleeping and unmoving. Not once does Roman remove his gaze from her as he takes her hand, giving a gentle tug to guide her down on the sofa next to him. He slides his arm behind her, holding her body against him, his tattooed forearm across her stomach.

Roman watches the way her eyes close, recognizes that she’s trying to manage her emotions. He sees the little nod she gives herself, as if assuring herself that she’s safe. And he swears he sees her mouth as such.

Mouth the word ‘safe.’

Solana moves her hands to his forearm, as if holding onto him for some sense of comfort. 

He does his best to reassure her. “Relax…”And it seems to do something to help her, offering such a simple yet strong form of solace. “I’d never send you back there. Ever.” And that’s a fucking promise. “You’ll stay here. With me.”

“I’m—” Her voice is less emotional than before. It’s still there, but he can tell it's waning with each second that passes, her comfort level growing. “I’m supposed to give you an heir. What if—what if people start—”

“I’ll take care of it.” And he will. He already started with the Elders earlier today, but she doesn’t need to know that. 

She angles her head up to look at him. “But—” 

Roman brings his hand to her face, gently palming her cheek. “I’ll take care of it.” He moves his thumb over the apple of her cheek and part of her scar. “Alright?”

Solana nods with her acknowledgement but says nothing else as she lays back against him. He notices the absence of tension and discomfort. She’s fully relaxed against him, and Roman acts more out of instinct than anything as he presses lips against her temple for a brief kiss, still mindful of her comfort level. “I’ve got you…”

Everything happening in the past few minutes has been both unexpected and confusing, but there’s nothing confusing about the way Solana suddenly turns her body into him, laying her head on his chest. He watches her eyes close, signifying another layer of fear being peeled back. 

He sits there for who knows how long with her, holding her, noticing the slight rise and fall of her body against his, a sign that she’s fallen asleep. He lets her sleep, lets her rest, lets her stay close to him, under him, with him.

Roman thinks back on his question to her about what she wanted. He’s not sure what he would have said if she said she wanted to leave, because the truth of the matter is that Roman’s starting to think that he couldn’t let her go.

That he can’t.

Even if she wanted to leave. 

[bones4thecats]

Could I please request of blot boys reaction to their sibling(the reader) was taken by stxy instead of them? The resion could be that the reader has magic samiler to blot?

You can ignore this if its a bother, have a nice day!

When Their Sibling Gets Taken By STYX

Type of Writing: Request Character: Azul Ashengrotto, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, and Leona Kingscholar Name: When Their Sibling Gets Taken By STYX Requester: @firewolf6783

A/N: By far one of my favorite pieces. This was so much fun to write, so I hope you enjoyed this! Peace :p

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🐙 Azul is a fairly protective sibling in general, so when Jade and Floyd came up to him and said that they couldn't find his sibling around Night Raven College, he immediately went to the prefect to find out where you were

🐙 Hearing that you were taken from the grounds by a supposed student, Azul appointed the tweels to go with Rook, Yuu, and Grim in order to find you and get you back to Octavinelle

🐙 When he received the news that you were going to be returned soon, he was relieved, especially after seeing a photo of you and the tweels safe and sound

🐙 Your brother had bee-lined to the entrance of the college, he had stood there and shuffled on his feet, his mind full of what ifs

🐙 Like he literally rants to himself in his mind;

What if they were injured but I couldn't see it?! What happened to them?! Why were they even kidnapped?! What if I got there before?! Why would someone ever try harming them?!

🐙 This guy is literally making up scenario after scenario while waiting for you and the tweels to reappear

🐙 Once he heard the sound of you yelling and Floyd laughing, he jumped back out of his head and looked up from his phone. And he was happy to see Floyd giving you a piggyback ride as you held tightly onto him while he ran

" Azul! Lookie, we found Baby Octopus! "

🐙 Your eyebrows furrowing in agitation at the nickname made Azul chuckle as he walked up to you guys, motioning for Floyd to put you down

🐙 He was super happy that you were back, and while you did have some side-effects from being stuck in S.T.YX., he just smiled and brushed his fingers over the small scales on your arms

" I've seen you look far worse, little sibling. " " Yeah! Like when you accidentally sprayed ink all over yourself when we scared you all those years ago! " " Shut the hell up, Floyd! "

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🐍 Was he peeved when he received news that you were missing? Absolutely.

🐍 At first, Jamil believed that someone was there to kidnap Kalim but ended up accidentally getting the identities mixed and kidnapped you instead

🐍 Once he heard about it, he had ordered everyone he knew to search for you, and hearing that other members of the College had gone missing as well, only made him worry even more

🐍 Was something else going on? If someone was just after Kalim, why would there be other students missing?

🐍 Much like Azul, Jamil begins to panic on what happened to you, making many different accusations and scenarios up in his mind on what had happened to you and where in Twisted Wonderland you would be

🐍 It was when he was just about to go overboard and possibly overblot again that he got a call from Kalim, stating that you were found and only had a few changes, but they weren't bad

🐍 That made his worries all vanish, and it also made the rest of Scarabia whip their foreheads of sweat, they were scared their vice-housewarden was about to go and hypnotize them again

🐍 Jamil immediately after hanging up with Kalim began to sprint down the corridor and through Scarabia's mirror, bolting straight for the mirror chamber, and when he saw you weren't there, he ran right to the entrance of the school

🐍 Which was where he saw you and Kalim hugging, you just trying to comfort him from crying so much

" Hey brother! " " Sweet Sevens, thank the world that you're safe. Kalim said you had no injuries that were major, right? You better not be hiding any of them from me, or I swear to- " " I'm really fine, Jamil. Just I little tired is all. "

🐍 That was when he noticed that Kalim was messing with something behind you, and when he looked back and saw that you had a small snake tail with a rattle, his eyes widened and he looked so confused

" Long story... " " Then you better start telling me now. "

🐍 Yeah, once you told him about everything that happened with S.T.Y.X. it's needless to say that he became a mama-bear whenever Idia came around

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👑 Oh was he beyond upset

👑 Vil was looking everywhere in Pomefiore for you, so when he couldn't seem to locate you, even using your tracking system you both installed on your phones for safety, he got really mad

👑 He tried to asked Rook to go around and look for you, and that was when he noticed that his phone was pinging all the way over to where the Isle of Woe was supposedly located, and he started to get beyond worried

👑 Vil decided to try calling Yuu, who he knew you were close too. But, when they didn't call him back or give him a message, everyone noticed how it was affecting him

👑 It was so bad that the teachers gave him time off class because of how worried he was

👑 He wasn't even coming out of his room for anything, not even gifting a reaction when someone mentioned Neige being there (obviously lying, but still)

👑 By the time he received Rook's message of finding you and the others that were kidnapped, Vil was dead asleep, his room in quite a lot of disarray

👑 When he heard the sound of his door being knocked on, Vil woke up death-fully silent, he wrapped himself in a robe and hide his face behind the hood of the fluffy clothing

" (R/N), I don't care if- " " Hey Lover-Boy... WOAH. I can tell you missed me! " " Y/N?... " " Where in the name of the Great Seven were you?! You had been losing my mind! Do you know how worried I was?! " " ... ah damn... "

👑 Now you have to deal with your brother's scoldings. But, when he eventually saw the small burns from some technologies from S.T.Y.X. on you, he just smirked and complimented you

👑 And that got Epel googling on how much grief can affect someone's personality while Rook just laughs and talks about how sweet of a brother the housewarden is

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🦁 As the last-born of your royal family everyone saw potential in you from the very beginning of your life

🦁 You were put on a very high pedestal, but, you were still held in a lower degree than your oldest brother Falena Kingscholar, so you and your second-oldest brother, Leona Kingscholar, and you bonded like nobody's business

🦁 It was because of your closeness that Leona was getting worried

🦁 The last time he had seen you was when you went with your friend Jack to class, so when Leona went and asked the wolf-beastman about your whereabouts and he only said he thought you went back to your dorm, he got upset

🦁 Your brother immediately grabbed his phone and messaged Ruggie, ordering him to put everything aside and issue a warning around the school; one that you were missing

🦁 That was how he found out about other students going missing, and when he learned that the magicless prefect and their cat was gone, he got angry

🦁 Was this some kind of devilish plan of theirs?!

🦁 During your time missing, he tried keeping it only known to the school, he doesn't need his and yours brother and his family to get the royal guard engaged in this, he could handle it himself

🦁 When you finally called him, Leona was curled up in his bed, contemplating ideas on where you could be

🦁 Hearing the familiar sound of your ringtone, Leona lunged for his device, holding it up to his ear to hear the sound of your voice

" Ah, Roi des Lions! Do not worry, I have old Princesse des Bêtes here with me, they're safe and sound. " " Where the hell are they you prick?! " " We're on our way back to the school, we should be back at around six heures et demie. See you then! " " Why you- DAMN IT! "

🦁 Leona stood outside the school awaiting your arrival. And while he was there with Ruggie, he gritted his teeth, allowing a bare minimum of his fangs to show

🦁 When he finally caught sight of you and saw that you had a small amount of fur along your body, he just sighed, holding you close before picking you up and dragging you to Savanaclaw

" Y'know, for someone who's supposed to be the blessed child, you really find ways to get into trouble. " " I guess that's why I'm your sibling, huh? " " Fuck you. " " Love you too, brother! "

[cyclesprefectpress]

[image description: photos of The Disco Elysium Tarot, printed letterpress in an edition of one from handset lead type and linoleum blocks. It is a complete 78-card tarot deck printed primarily with white text and illustrations on medium grey cardstock, in a custom dark grey hardcase box with a hand-marbled orange and yellow endsheet. The backs of the deck are decorated with an illustration of a sprig of may bells, and a quote from Smallest Church in Saint-Saëns: "None of this matters at all." The interpretive meaning of each card is expressed on its face with a small excerpt of the game's text. The Minor Arcana are divided into four suits of Harry's Attributes—Motorics, Psyche, Physique, Intellect—and each card in that suit is a quote from a skill under that Attribute. The Major Arcana are assigned quotes from other sources like NPC dialogue or Thought Cabinet problems & solutions. Pips for the Minors are counted with diamonds like the game's skill points; each actor or title is printed with their in-game color, but made shiny & metallic with bronzing powder.

each piece of text was set in handset lead type, assembled from individual pieces for each letter and space, and printed relief on a chandler & price clamshell press. end description.]

🎊🎊 Desert Bus for Hope starts for 2023 on nov. 11th and i have made an item this year for the craftalong that will be up for giveaway between 6am-12pm on Monday the 13th! 🎊🎊 It is a full tarot deck based on Disco Elysium and it has several pieces of my heart & soul in it but NOT my blood because i put a bandaid right on that :) donations for this and any other auctions & giveaways for Desert Bus go to Child's Play Charity.

notes: i did not make a whole new interpretive model for this deck, apologies, that was outside of my scope. it's generally compatible with a Rider-Waite model, with Motorics for Wands, Psyche for Cups, Physique for Swords, and Intellect for Disks. (full distribution of text listed by card, linked below. any spelling or transcription errors you find there, i promise i fixed them in print—that's copied from my digital mockup which was copied hastily from screenshots.)

i also do not track hours on these kinds of projects because that way lies madness, but i will say: i knew how much time it would take to print it. it was a lot but i was not worried about it, i know how to print. i was very worried about how much time it would take to absorb the sheer amount of text, and distribute it across the cards, and really get an array i believe in. i was right to worry, and i have absolutely had a few anxious nightmares about discovering the Perfect excerpt that should've gone in and i missed it, and the suit of Intellect made me want to lay on the floor a few times, but still! i believe there's many versions of a deck you could make from this game and this one is a good one.

i think the Minors fit really well with the double-edged sword of Harry's skills, their advice, their priorities. the circular way the Fool-World assignment works out makes me smile every time. The colors on The Star came out so nice. i think Justice fulfills some of my favorite things about Kim's character & purpose in the story. i worried sometimes that editing to such short clips would lose too much of the politics of the game, but of course you can't really take them out and they're especially present in the Majors—the Devil and the Hierophant, The Star and The Sun. i've wanted to design a tarot deck for years and i love this game deeply and i let this idea percolate for a few months and it never stopped making me laugh so here it is, & given a beautiful purpose :)

i also literally could not have done this without xyrilin's Disco Reader and the FAYDE On-Air Playback Experiment to navigate the dialogue and skill checks. Really couldn’t have tied the whole concept & colophon in its final bow without the Disco Reader :)) thank thank thank, they're so fun to investigate that it was honestly very difficult to focus on my task instead of veering off and exploring every branch in an extremely disorganized way.

actual printing went well honestly, very few problems! i think that means i'm getting pretty good at planning one of these monstrosities, although perhaps it also means i'm not challenging myself enough. hmm. no that's silly there's 78 ding dang cards in this thing. anyway the drop & replace formes worked well, no registration issues. mum convinced me to overprint another half a deck's worth of cards when I was printing backs & borders and of course she was right :/ there were a handful of cards that actually had better line breaks and fewer lines total in true type than in the digital mockup, so i needed all the spares I had to put those new short quotes into the appropriate border breakage. next time i will not question her.

handset in Garamond, Eden Bold, and secret Neuland.

WIP : full text card assignments

bonus photo of the kind of trash notes i always take to plan things like how many borders were printed with space for short excerpts vs long excerpts, and how many of those are majors vs. minors, because they have a slightly different frame at the bottom edge, etc.

[image description: they are truly garbage notes, i tell you. half of it is written at angles to the other half, many numbers in the math problems are not labeled, mistakes are scribbled over. it gets me there but it doesn't look pretty. end description.]