#Jab We Matched cast

[invoncible]

ok but hear me out mark and a magical girl reader that’s it that’s the imagine

MARK GRAYSON & magical!reader ✧˚.

— im def hearing you out on this one anon — my inbox is open for any kind of invincible requests :P

for someone who's fighting tactics are just.... 90% brute force, mark was fascinated by you a little a lot

you can make the world around you bend to your will with elegant swooshes of light

you had a hold on the hero scene in general, but you had something different on mark... except he was the last one to realize it

rex always teased that you were some fairy tale legend, but that's literally what you were. something out of a storybook

"you're embarrassing me." rex grimaced as he cast a sideways glance at mark. "haven't i taught you to be a better flirt than this? you're just staring at them."

mark shook his head, heat rising to his face as he snapped out whatever trance you had him in. "uh. yeah, okay."

"'yeah, okay' what?" the redhead jabbed a finger into mark's face accusingly. "go talk to 'em, what's the worst that can happen?"

what's the worst that could happen? a lot of things. at least in mark's eyes.

but once he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out, he realized he'd been worrying for nothing

the whole magic thing was your brand, so he figured he'd match your energy when he tried to sweep you off your feet.

it was halloween, and you went in a variant of your hero costume. it passed more or less for a fantasy getup, like you were a magical royalty or something like that

mark thought he was so clever going as a knight in shining armor

"i was thinking that, uh... you and me, you know? we go pretty good together, outside of the fighting stuff." he strolled beside you. he'd thought of what to say many, many times before this moment, but standing next to you was a whole different story. "not that we don't make a good team, cuz we do. i think we make an awesome team, but, uh... i just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out on our own, without the world threats and stuff."

he cleared his throat, mentally punching himself for that mess of a set up, eyes darting to your face to assess your reaction.

"like a date?" you blinked, a slow smile of realization spreading on your face.

he cleared his throat, fist curling around his play sword. "uh... yeah." he pulled a red rose from his belt and twirled it in his hand nervously as he held it out to you. "for you." this is stupid this is stupid.

but you beamed at him, your bright laughter making him relax from the apprehensions in his head. you accepted his sweet token and took his hand in yours. "thank you."

he grinned and stood a little straighter, puffing out his chest. "heh. you're welcome."

if he saw something in a comic book that resembled your abilities, he'd tell you and try to help you emulate the power if it was worthwhile.

"mark, i'm not a wizard. i don't have a crystal ball or a giant scepter." you put your hands on your hips.

he frowned, flipping his comic book towards to and pointing to the frame where the character was doing a crazy spell that knocked out all of the enemies. "just hear me out! what if—"

after you met his mother, you started hanging out and staying over a lot more. debbie was so delighted to have the equivalent of a disney princess in her home that could make the brooms sweep for themselves, the pots and pans cook on their own, and the laundry to fold without any help.

mark opened the door to the broom shuffling along the floors dutifully, stopping and shaking when it saw him as if waving hello. mark hesitantly waved back, and it went on about its tasks.

"oh, mark!" debbie's smile was welcoming. she held out her mug and the coffee pot floated over and poured her a fresh cup before retreating back to its station.

he sighed and hung his jacket, kissing his mom's head in greeting. "mom, you can't have y/n work all the time when she's over."

debbie glared at her son. "what kind of host do you take me for? you forget i'm in real estate—i'm a master at hospitality. y/n was the one that insisted. and believe me, they’re not working." she chuckled to herself, endeared by your stubborn need to help her out.

mark gave a confused look to his mom before he flew upstairs, and his mom was right. you were sleeping soundly in his bed while clothes were being folded and sorted into baskets beside you.

he huffed a little smile as he climbed under the covers beside you, snuggling into your back.

© invoncible

[kwilquib]

Red String: Tangled

Word Count 4.6k

Liz - I’ve (🐈‍⬛) x Yeji - Itzy (🐈) x MReader 📖

a/n: i was going to post this after the part 4 of promised 9, but it might take a while so i decided to post this one first instead.

The coffee table was already a battlefield of indulgence—half-eaten strawberries bled onto napkins, the rim of a cake sagged from being sliced unevenly, and the growing graveyard of empty bottles clinked whenever someone shifted. Warm, golden light from a lone floor lamp softened the chaos, casting shadows that swayed gently across the walls.

You were sunk deep into the couch, the alcohol dulling your senses into something languid and warm. Liz, draped against your side like a sleepy cat, had long stopped sipping her wine and started murmuring nonsense into your shoulder. Her fingers loosely hooked around your arm, her hair tickling your jaw with her every breath.

On the floor, back resting against the couch, Yeji nursed the last of her only bottle for the night, as she stared at the flickering candlelight.

“Shall we call it a night?” you asked low.

Yeji looked up at you, then sideways at Liz nestled against you. A short scoff escaped her lips, sharp but not exactly hostile.

You shifted carefully, slowly prying your arm free from Liz’s hold. She mumbles a trifling protest in her sleep but doesn't wake as you lay her down gently across the couch, sliding a pillow to rest her head.

“She didn’t last,” she muttered, with just enough bite for her meaning to latch.

You smirked despite yourself. The tension between them was unspoken but undeniable—at least on Yeji’s part. Liz floated through the days with effortless charm, never rising to Yeji’s jabs, while Yeji simmered, her competitive nature flaring in little comments, lingering glances, subtle one-ups.

“She had more than you,” you said, lightly teasing. “You were sneaking her your shots.”

Yeji raised her chin defiantly. “Not my fault she’s that susceptible.”

“She’s gonna be hungover and dramatic tomorrow.”

“She’s always dramatic.”

Chuckling for a moment, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just… quiet. Safe. The night had dulled at the edges, the candle’s aroma roamed the space, soft and warm, the alcohol warming your veins. But Yeji’s gaze lingered now—longer, steadier. You noticed.

“So…” you started, tilting your head toward her. “You really don’t like losing to her, huh?”

Yeji didn’t answer immediately. She stepped closer. Then another step. Before you realized it, she was standing directly in front of you, her expression unreadable, but her eyes holding yours without flinching.

“You’re always trying to one-up her,” you said, gentler this time. “Like you’re in some kind of race.”

“I’m not competing,” she shot back, voice tight.

You didn’t push. Just looked at her.

Her glare wavered, and something behind it faltered.

A sigh, then she dropped down to sit in front of you, settling between your legs, her arms resting casually across your knees. “I just… this was different to what I expected when I signed up for the program.”

“How different?”

“I’m not gonna tell you—” She hesitated, then smirked faintly. “How about you go first?”

“Oh wow,” you said, grinning. “Curling it back to me. Real smooth.”

You leaned back into the couch.

“Where do I start? Shitty life, barely surviving, scraping by. Then I heard about the program—matchmaking, state incentives, guaranteed housing, government support if you start a family. Sounded like a dream. A new life handed to you on a silver platter.”

Yeji listened quietly, eyes on your face.

“I didn’t have the luxury to dream about love or family,” you went on. “But if some algorithm could give me a guaranteed match? Sure. Seemed easier to believe in data than in people.”

“The Red String Algorithm,” Yeji said, her voice quiet but undeniably proud. “It extracts every meaningful signal from your history—psych profiles, communication patterns, even the way you process conflict—and uses it to find a true match. Ninety-nine point six percent success rate.”

You snorted. “Right, sorry—Miss Researcher.”

She shot you a look. “You’re living with one of its core developers. You should at least remember the name.”

There was a pause. Her tone softened.

“I always knew the algorithm could work. I just didn’t expect it would… work on me.”

You glanced at her. “It saved my ass, I’ll admit that. But if I��d known back then we’d be matched as a trio instead of a pair…”

You trailed off.

“Then…?” Yeji prompted, cautious.

“Are you saying you regret it?”

“No.” You answered quickly. “Definitely not. Just… it caught me off guard. That’s all. But one thing’s for sure—I’d never go back to before this.”

A silence settled. Not heavy. Just thoughtful.

“…Well,” you said, nudging her lightly. “Your turn. Remember?”

“Same as you.”

“Wow, I feel cheated.”

“Okay, not exactly the same,” she relented. “But I also joined because it made sense. When I applied, they told me my research would get priority status—more funding, less red tape. I didn’t have time to date. The idea of some system finding me a perfect match felt like… a neat solution. Just another algorithm doing its job.”

She gave a short, dry laugh. “And the benefits weren’t bad either.”

You didn’t interrupt. Just waited.

“I thought I knew exactly what I was signing up for,” she said, voice softer now. “I prepared for everything—sharing space, building habits, managing intimacy like a checklist. But the system knew better.”

Her gaze flicked up to you.

“I didn’t expect… you. Her. Us.”

Your breath caught slightly. There was something flickering in her eyes—uncertainty dressed in composure, like she wasn’t quite sure how much to reveal.

You were about to respond when a soft groan broke the moment.

Liz.

She stirred beside you, shifting slightly, her arm flopping over the couch’s edge.

Both you and Yeji turned to look.

“She’s gonna whine tomorrow,” you said, chuckling under your breath.

Yeji tilted her head. “Assuming she waits till morning.”

a small chuckle.

You smiled, the last threads of laughter still lingering in your chest, and without thinking, you leaned forward—closer to Yeji, who was still sitting on the floor between your knees.

Your arm brushed against her shoulder.

She didn't flinch. If anything, she tilted her head slightly, as if encouraging the contact.

Your laughter faded, leaving behind a sudden, charged silence.

Yeji shifted, angling her body to face you more fully. Her hands came up, resting lightly on your thighs—steadier than her breathing.

Her voice dropped, low and coaxing.

“We still have tonight.”

The weight of her words sank deep into you.

Your breath hitched.

The distance between you was barely anything now, measured only in heartbeats. Her thumbs brushed slow, thoughtless circles against your legs, a touch so featherlight it made you hyper aware of every nerve ending.

“Yeji—” you began, but it came out rough, unsteady.

She smiled—small, almost mischievous—and leaned in.

Close enough that her breath fanned against your mouth.

Close enough that you could count the tiny flecks of gold in her dark eyes.

“You’re drunk,” you whispered.

“Weak excuse,” she murmured, brushing her lips against yours. “You know I’m not.”

Her lips brushed yours, soft, almost there, a ghost of a kiss that left you aching for more.

“We can’t do this.”

“We’re married—on paper,” she replied between kisses. “This is exactly what we’re supposed to do.”

“I mean not now—not here.”

A soft groan broke the moment—Liz, stirring restlessly on the couch.

You both turned to look at her, your hearts tripping over themselves.

But when you looked back, Yeji was already watching you again, emboldened by the interrupted moment.

“Liz is here—”

“You're picking favorites?” with her voice low, almost a warning.

“What? No—”

She kissed you again, firmer this time, her hands sliding a little higher along your thighs, anchoring herself to you.

You should stop this. You knew you should.

But when her tongue teased at your bottom lip, asking—no, daring—you to let her in, your resistance cracked completely.

You kissed her back.

Yeji shifted—settling back down to her knees, now between your legs. Her palms slid smoothly over your thighs, grounding you in the moment as her eyes locked with yours.

The warmth of her hands seemingly seeping through the fabric. Her thumbs brushed a small, absent circle through the fabric. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but words dissolved in your throat when her fingers moved to your waistband. Slow. Testing.

“Yeji…” a futile warning, knowing it's not you who’s in control.

She glanced up, lips parted, eyes locked. “If you want me to stop, say it.”

Your silence was her permission.

A slow, satisfied smile curved her lips as her fingers undid the button, then the zipper—slow, methodical—and peeled your pants away with a patience that only made it worse.

And better.

Your breath caught in your throat as the cool air hit you, the warmth of her hand came after—then the heat of her mouth.

She widened her mouth, opening to welcome you deeper, her head bobbing with growing urgency. Wet sounds filled the room—the slick slide of her lips, the soft, breathy gags as you hit the back of her throat, the faint brush of her hair against your stomach as she leaned in harder, more desperate.

It was overwhelming—too much, too good.

And maybe that was why, somewhere in the fog of pleasure, a sharp thread of worry slipped through.

Your chest tightened. You turned instinctively to your side, the sudden need to check, to make sure—

“Fuck. Yeji!” You shoved her mouth off your cock, not far, not harsh, just enough to break the seal of her lips—just enough to expose her slick grin and the spit-slick strand still connecting her tongue to your tip.

Liz.

She was awake.

Hands covered her face like she was trying to deny what she was seeing—yet her fingers parted just enough for you to catch her eyes, wide and shimmering, veiling its shame. Caught between wanting to watch and wanting to flee, flushed.

“Liz, it’s not—” you stammered, cock still wet, still hard, still twitching under the ghost of Yeji’s mouth.

“For someone touchy, you’re surprisingly shy.” Yeji cuts in before you could reason.

“It’s normal to be shy in situations like this!” Liz croaked, voice cracking mid-protest, eyes locked on you as if she was calling for you to be on her side.

Yeji only laughed softly, the sound dripping with knowing amusement. “Is it also normal to be shy when it’s just you two, too?”

Your mouth opened—but nothing came out. Words tangled in your throat, hot and useless. “How—”

“The walls are thin, you know,” Yeji said, voice lazy, almost indulgent. Then she glanced at Liz—deliberate, slow. “Plus, you’re awfully loud.”

A tiny sound escaped Liz behind her hands—a muffled whimper, not fear, not disgust. Something else. Excitement, tangled with shame, twisting hot and helpless in her gut.

Yeji stretched her arms languidly behind her, a cat waking from a satisfied nap, then leaned in, voice sultry and slow. “Well,” she said, her gaze locking onto Liz’s, “are you just going to stare?”

“Yeji—” you warned, already knowing it was too late.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, all liquid confidence, and purred, “Maybe you should head back to your room, little voyeur.”

The words wrapped around Liz like smoke—seductive, heavy, inescapable. But Liz didn’t move.

“I—I’m not going to leave,” Liz stammered, voice so small it barely reached across the couch. But it did. Every syllable landed like a drop of oil on fire.

Her eyes narrowed, gleamed like a predator’s in low light—sharp, cutting, approving. She sat back on her heels, head tilting slightly as if appraising Liz under new light. Her hand didn’t leave your cock. She held it steady, fingers curled at the base, glistening with spit, the exposed length twitching under her grip.

“Cute,” she finally said, slow and velvety. “Come here, then.”

Liz hesitated only a heartbeat before leaving her hoodie on the couch. Shoulders bare. Tank top clinging to soft curves. No bra. Her nipples pressed like little beads against the fabric, hard from watching. From wanting. From finally deciding.

.Yeji watched her approach without blinking.

You sat frozen between them—cock soaked, heart pounding, thighs trembling from restraint.

Liz knelt beside Yeji, movements quiet, cautious, like she was stepping into a hot bath—both terrified and aching to be swallowed.

“Ever done this?” Yeji asked, without malice, just curiosity sharpened by thrill.

Liz shook her head, biting her lip, cheeks blooming red. “No… not like this.”

“Oh princess.” Yeji’s smirk deepened. “Follow my lead.”

And just like that, Liz lowered herself.

Her hand reached first—tentative, warm fingers brushing your shaft like you might disappear. Her touch was featherlight, reverent, like she was holding something sacred. Yeji guided her, sliding her hand on top of Liz’s, the contrast striking—Yeji’s grip firm, Liz’s trembling.

You groaned.

Yeji started stroking again, this time with Liz’s hand moving under hers, both palms working you together, one bold and commanding, the other shy and curious. Flesh slid slick and smooth under their hands, your hips twitching against the sensation of two women touching you at once.

“Go on,” Yeji said, voice a breath against your thigh now. “Try it.”

Liz leaned in.

Her lips parted just slightly, tongue flicking out like she was testing temperature. She kissed your tip, soft, barely there, then pulled back with wide eyes.

Yeji’s hand never stopped moving.

“Again,” Yeji coaxed. “Open wider. No teeth.”

Liz nodded. Obedient. Blushing.

She leaned in again and wrapped her lips around your head, warm and wet and cautious. She sucked gently, cheeks hollowing slightly, dimple flashing as she bobbed forward—then pulled back, letting your cock pop wetly from her mouth.

You gasped.

Yeji growled, something primal. “Not bad.”

Then she dove in again.

Her mouth engulfed your length beside Liz’s, taking more, taking deeper, her tongue a skilled, relentless force. Liz followed with wide eyes, licking the side of your shaft Yeji wasn’t occupying, kissing the base, moaning softly every time she tasted you.

Their mouths moved in tandem. Yeji’s deep and possessive, Liz’s light and fluttering.

You were being devoured.

“Fuck—shit, girls—ah—” Your voice shattered, your thighs spread wider, hips rolling into their mouths, body caught between Yeji’s dominance and Liz’s eager submission.

Yeji sucked harder. Her eyes snapped up, locking with yours. Commanding.

Liz’s tongue curled around your base, her hand cupping your balls, soft fingers trembling with effort and excitement. Her lips were pink and swollen now, a line of drool running down her chin as she moaned against your skin.

Yeji pulled back and let a long string of spit fall from her tongue to your cock, coating it more. “Good girl,” she muttered to Liz, then slapped her ass gently. “But don’t just play. Take him. Like this.”

She shoved her mouth down again—deeper, fiercer, throat clenching around you as she gagged slightly, then pulled back with a slurp, gasping. “That’s how you suck cock.”

Liz’s eyes sparkled, wet and wide. She swallowed nervously. Then she tried again, this time deeper, more committed.

You could barely hold on.

“God, you’re both—fuck—” you groaned, voice barely there, one hand buried in Yeji’s hair, the other tangled in Liz’s.

They licked you like it was a competition. A dance. Heat and wetness and rhythm. Yeji guiding Liz, licking the underside while Liz took your tip, her lips wrapped around it so gently you thought you might lose it. Then they’d trade—Yeji taking you all the way, Liz licking what she couldn’t reach. Spit soaked your thighs. Their mouths met at your base, licking each other’s tongues, sharing the taste of you.

You were shaking.

Yeji grinned against your cock. “Cum for us,” she whispered.

Liz whimpered. “Please…”

Your breath caught—lungs seized like a misfiring engine, every nerve in your body tightening to a razor’s edge. Their mouths moved in perfect sync now, wet, rhythmic, obscene. Yeji’s tongue flicked just beneath the head as Liz suckled the tip, cheeks drawn in with hunger and awe. You could barely tell whose hand was whose—soft skin wrapped around your shaft, stroking in tandem, squeezing you up toward the inevitable.

“F-Fuck, I’m—” The words barely left your lips before your hips bucked, spine arching off the couch.

Yeji pulled Liz back at the last moment, hand gripping the base tight, lips parting as your cock erupted.

Hot, thick spurts of cum painted Yeji’s tongue, her mouth, her throat. She moaned, her eyes rolling slightly, lashes fluttering, her throat working as she swallowed it down. But not all of it.

She didn’t swallow it all.

She held some—warm, white, thick—pooling on her tongue like a decadent gift.

“Ahhn…” she exhaled, eyes flicking to Liz. Still kneeling. Still flushed. Still trembling from watching you explode.

Yeji grabbed her by the jaw.

Firm but not cruel. Her fingers pressed into Liz’s cheeks, and Liz gasped as Yeji leaned in—mouth open, cum heavy inside—and kissed her.

No time for hesitation.

Their lips met in a sticky, messy, desperate kiss. Yeji pushed it into her. Tongue sliding in, sharing the load. The mix of slick spit and seed spilling from one mouth to the other in thick, slow dribbles.

Liz’s eyes went wide—but she didn’t pull away.

She moaned.

Yeji groaned back, fingers now buried in Liz’s hair as she deepened the kiss, mouths locked, tongues swirling, swapping the taste of you like something sacred and filthy all at once.

You watched, dazed, cock twitching even in its aftershock.

Yeji pulled away finally, a thin strand of cum still stretching between their lips, shining in the low light.

Liz swallowed.

Hard.

She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, then smiled at you—shy, glowing, a little breathless, dimple showing even now.

Yeji licked her lips. “Now that,” she said, voice hoarse with triumph, “is how you share.”

Liz giggled—sweet, almost innocent—but her thighs were pressed tight together, her chest rising fast.

Yeji turned to you again, stroking your thigh lazily. “Bedroom?” she whispered, licking the last drop off her thumb.

Your cock twitched.

You weren’t done. Neither were they.

They stood, both of them still licking their lips—one smug, the other dazed—while you slumped back against the couch, cock twitching from oversensitivity, slick with their spit, your legs weak with afterglow. But for Yeji, for them it had just started.

She grabbed your hand. “Come. Now.”

Yeji stood first. Confident. Graceful. She rose like sin personified, the wet gleam on her lips catching the low light. Then she turned, reached out, and grabbed your wrist. “Bedroom,” she said, no room for argument in her tone. She was already moving, pulling you off the couch with Liz scrambling up after, nervous but burning with adrenaline, her thighs rubbing as she followed you both down the dim hallway.

Your room was barely lit—warm shadows, rumpled sheets, faint perfume in the air—but it didn’t matter.

Yeji pushed the door shut behind you with her foot and turned to Liz.

“Well?” she asked, voice low, like a dare wrapped in silk. “You’ve been watching. Want to feel it now?”

Liz hesitated, biting her lip again. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Yeji smirked. “Clothes off. On the bed.”

Liz obeyed. Her tank top peeled up over her head, revealing soft, pale skin and pert breasts tipped with flushed pink. She shimmied her shorts and panties down together, stepping out with one leg at a time, her movements hesitant but fluid, like a dream she wasn’t sure she was awake for.

She lay back, legs closing instinctively. Yeji clicked her tongue.

“Open,” she said, climbing onto the bed beside her. “Don’t hide now.”

Liz parted her legs, slowly, her pussy glistening already, folds pink and puffy with anticipation. She covered her face for a second with one hand, but peeked through her fingers just like before—watching you.

You were already hard again.

Yeji crooked her finger at you. “Come here,” she said. “She’s ready.”

You crawled up between Liz’s spread legs, your cock bobbing, already aching again from the scene you’d just watched unfold. Yeji knelt beside her, hand sliding up Liz’s inner thigh, spreading her gently, two fingers brushing over her slick entrance.

“She’s soaked,” she said, glancing at you with heat. “Give it to her slow.”

You nodded, guiding yourself to Liz’s entrance, the heat of her making you groan before you even pushed in. The first inch was heaven. Wet, tight, squeezing you like she’d been made for it.

Liz gasped, her back arching, hand flying to your arm. “Oh my god…”

You went deeper, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around you. She was snug, fluttering around your cock like her body was shocked by how full she felt. Her eyes fluttered, mouth parting in a moan she tried to swallow.

Yeji leaned in, kissed her neck. “Breathe. Let him in.”

You bottomed out with a grunt, hips pressing flush against her, Liz’s breath catching in her throat as her nails dug into your shoulder. You held still, letting her adjust, your cock twitching inside her walls.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” you whispered.

Liz whimpered.

Yeji’s hand slid over her breast, pinching a nipple, making her buck slightly beneath you.

“Move,” Yeji ordered you. “Let her feel it.”

You started to thrust—slow, deliberate strokes, dragging along her slick walls. Liz moaned louder now, hips rising to meet yours, the tension melting from her limbs as pleasure took its place.

Yeji watched you both, her hand dipping between Liz’s thighs, fingers finding the little pearl at the top of her slit. She rubbed it in slow circles, matching your thrusts.

Liz cried out—short, breathless sounds that only made you pound harder.

“You like that?” Yeji purred into Liz’s ear. “You like being fucked while I touch you?”

Liz nodded frantically, eyes glassy, mouth falling open in a silent moan as her legs locked tighter around your waist.

Yeji leaned in, kissed her—slow and deep—her fingers still working between Liz’s thighs, circling faster now. Then she pulled back, lips slick, eyes glowing, and turned her gaze on you.

There was a glint in them—mischievous, luring. She leaned closer to you, a breath’s warmth brushing your lips just before she claimed them in a kiss.

It was deep. Hungry. Her mouth molded to yours, tongue sliding against yours with deliberate control, a slow burn of desire made real. Her fingers curled into your shoulder to steady herself as her body pressed against yours.

Your hand, once gripping her thigh, faltered—drifting upward instead to cup her jaw. You kissed her harder, pulling her in, drowning yourself in the heat of her mouth.

Everything else blurred—until Liz moved beneath you.

A soft whimper broke through, her hips rolling upward again, slick heat clenching around you, desperate for motion. She hadn’t stopped.

Your eyes cracked open as Yeji pulled back just enough to see.

She followed your glance. Saw Liz writhing below, breathless, impatient.

A smirk bloomed across her face. “Faster,” Yeji murmured, voice like silk catching flame. “She can take it.”

You obeyed. Your hips slapped against her thighs, your cock plunging deeper with every thrust. Liz was gasping, writhing, caught between your rhythm and Yeji’s touch. Her body trembled under the intensity, and her eyes locked with yours—wide, pleading, filled with wild pleasure.

“Y-Yes, fuck—ahh, please—” Liz sobbed, her back arching, body clenching around you so tight it stole your breath.

“She’s close,” Yeji said, licking her fingers before sliding them back down. “Don’t pull out.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you growled.

You drove into her harder, faster, relentless now. Her wet heat clung to you with every stroke, and the sound of skin slapping, Liz’s cries, and Yeji’s breathy moans filled the room like music.

Liz shook, her thighs trembling, hands clawing at the sheets. Her pussy squeezed around your cock like a vice, milking you as her orgasm crested.

“Cumming—oh god—fucking—!” she screamed, her whole body snapping taut beneath you as she came, walls fluttering and pulsing.

Yeji didn’t stop touching her. She kept rubbing, helping her ride the wave while watching your face.

You weren’t going to last.

Not with Liz gripping you like this, still spasming, not with Yeji’s eyes on you like she owned you.

You buried yourself as deep as you could, every muscle tensing, balls drawing up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—!”

And then you were spilling inside her.

Thick, hot pulses of cum shot into her womb, and she gasped as she felt it, body still twitching around you, milking every last drop. Your hips jerked with each burst, and Yeji moaned softly, her hand slipping down to press lightly against Liz’s belly as if she could feel your cum filling her from the outside.

“Good boy,” she whispered, eyes dark and satisfied. “Fucking bred her good, didn’t you?”

You collapsed forward, panting, still buried in Liz’s quivering body, her pussy sucking on your softening cock like it didn’t want to let go.

And Yeji?

She wasn’t done.

Yeji shifted atop you, still catching her breath, your cum dripping from her slowly with every subtle movement of her hips. Her fingers pressed into your chest as she sat upright again, grinding once more just to feel it—feel you still inside her, thick and twitching, softening slightly but not quite done.

She clenched.

Hard.

Your body jolted under her.

“Still got more in you,” she whispered, her voice low, husky, coaxing. “I want mine.”

She leaned forward, bracing herself on your chest, rolling her hips with practiced control. Slow, deliberate circles that pulled sounds from you like wringing a soaked cloth. Your hands gripped her thighs, slick with sweat, watching her move like liquid heat above you—hair plastered to her face, eyes locked on yours with fire and intent.

Liz stirred beside you, still flushed, her fingers resting at her slick entrance, too tender to touch but too affected to stop watching. Her gaze flicked between your face and the way Yeji rode you, her lips parted in silent awe.

Yeji slammed down again. And again.

You choked on a breath, overstimulated but captivated, your cock responding to her no matter how raw you felt. She twisted her hips on each downward thrust, her pussy still impossibly tight, her insides sucking you deeper, using your last reserves.

She moaned—deep and feral, each sound dragging from her throat like a battle cry and a prayer at once.

“I want it,” she said again, breathless. “All of it.”

You couldn’t stop if you tried.

Your nails dug into her ass as you started thrusting up into her, meeting her pace, driving harder, faster, the slap of skin echoing through the room. Yeji's back arched, hands splayed against your chest as her body began to quake. She was close—so close you could feel it in the way her walls fluttered, clamped.

“Right there,” she hissed. “Fucking—yes—don’t stop—”

You slammed into her.

Once. Twice. Deep.

And you broke.

Hot cum burst inside her again, thicker this time, pressure building in a final desperate wave. Yeji screamed—actual screamed—her orgasm snapping through her like a whip, her body locking up as her pussy milked your cock for everything. Her head tossed back, spine a perfect bow, mouth open wide as she came hard, spilling over you.

You pulsed inside her, filling her again, until she collapsed forward, full, dripping, her breath hot against your throat.

“Fuck…” she whispered, barely audible.

Your arms wrapped around her without thinking. Liz curled tighter into your side, her fingers lacing with yours. Yeji lay across your chest, one hand resting on Liz’s hip, all three of you tangled, sweating, sticky and still twitching from the echoes.

The room smelled of sex—thick, raw, heady.

None of you moved.

Yeji shifted once, just enough to sigh, cum seeping from her slowly, spreading warmth between your thighs.

Liz murmured something soft, a barely-there breath of contentment, her head tucked into the crook of your neck.

You could feel the last of your strength ebbing away, your muscles too relaxed to hold anything but this—this perfect, fucked-out stillness. A puddle of limbs, moans fading, breath evening out.

The dark wrapped around you all.

And then sleep took you.

A/n: Part of Woolly's prompt event!

[ghostfacd]

LIVE LAUGH, SCREAM! | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. where one comment could lead into an internet feud between tom blyth and yn avocot, resulting in them falling inlove ?!

author’s note. [ THIS TAKES PLACE BEFORE YN AND TOM STARTED DATING ] thank you to the nonnie that said yn gives off scream vibes bc they’re the reason i even made this post in the first place! 🤭

installment of this au | read for context

ynuser scream bts (you’re welcome!)

view all comments

jennaortega did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

➥ jackchampion no but it might’ve when she stabbed u in the movie

➥ ynuser JACK 😭😭

user1 jenna flirting, jack teasing, I LOVE THIS CAST YOUR HONOR

user2 okay but literally your performance was just chefs kiss 😭 PLEASE tell me you’re starting in other movies as well bae

➥ ynuser oh thank you!! im so honored you enjoyed it ❤️ I will get back to you on your question!! 👀

➥ user3 OMGG YN IN ANOTHER FILM WOULD BE KILLER

➥ user4 well actually 🤓☝️ she was one of the ghostface in the film which means she actually was a killer

user5 @/user4 bye

tomblyth amazing film

➥ ynuser thanks

➥ user6 THANKS?? THANKS?! girl that’s tom blyth

➥ ynuser @/user6 who?

user7 no way this girl just asked who tom blyth is

➥ user8 well can u blame her tho?? he’s in like what, billy the kid or whatever? it’s not that known..

➥ user9 nah girl stars in one film and thinks she’s all that 😭

rachelzegler YOU DID SO GOOD GIRL 💕

➥ ynuser rachel my love 😭😭❤️

tomblyth who am I? well now you know

view all comments

user10 oh he’s so fine

user11 LMFAOO is this a jab at yn not knowing who you are

user12 show that girl 🤭🤭 she thinks she’s all that after getting one acting gig

➥ user13 y’all are so obsessed with her hello..

ynuser sure. now i know

➥ user14 oh im having so much fun watching all this go down

ynuser more bts because i love scream 6 and so should you!

view all comments

tomblyth yeah the movie’s cool and all but how abt i treat you out for dinner?

➥ user15 HELLO???

user16 enemies to lovers era ?

user17 pls lord get these two together

jackchampion say yes to the dinner invite and bring me back steak

➥ ynuser 🤨🤨

➥ jackchampion and a vanilla soda too please

user18 i love jack n yn’s friendship

ynuser and tomblyth both posted a story!

ynuser eating sushi and then putting on some comfy pjs is a great way to spend a day

view all comments

user19 the way tom also posted sushi pics very similar to what she’s eating…

➥ user20 WHY IS NOBODY MENTIONING THE MATCHING HOTDOG STORY POSTS AS WELL 😭😭😭

user21 pjs TOGETHER?! im afraid we’ve lost her

user22 everybody knows.. everybody knows

jackchampion splendid way to spend the day

➥ user23 what if it’s jack?? tom and yn don’t even fw each other LOL

➥ user24 true. he did ask her for dinner tho

➥ user25 who wouldn’t? she’s yn.

Eclaté_Mode On this new episode of BTS With Your Favorites, Tom Blyth dishes on his skincare routine, how he keeps himself productive during breaks, and his internet rivalry with actress, Y/N Avocot. Full video linked in bio

view all comments

user26 THE WAY HE COMPLIMENTS YN this is definitely enemies to lovers

user27 “me and yn have exciting need to share soon” excuse me

user28 so they inlove or what

user29 yn fell inlove with a brit man it’s over for US

user30 WAIT WHAT DOES HE MEANNNN

tomblyth well surprise. enemies to lovers much?

view all comments

ynuser nice pic send me it

user31 WAITT RACHEL HIM AND YN IN A FILM?? did not expect this..

user32 hold awn..

user33 is this confirmation they’re dating

➥ ynuser we aren’t dating.

➥ rachelzegler yet.

➥ user34 RACHEL???

rachelzegler you’re welcome for this crossover, i encouraged both of them to audition for the role

➥ user35 WE LOVE RACHEL ZEGLER

jennaortega take care of my gf 😽

[simp-ly-writes]

Breaking Character

─────── · · A Smosh Fanfic

Pairing: Gentleman!Boyfriend!Spencer Agnew x gn!Partner!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You try your hardest to beat Gentleman Spencer at his own game of saying increasingly outlandish comments while trying to get him to break character!

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, part social-media au, established relationship, fluff, suggestive themes, attempt at humour.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,736

─ · · A/N: Asks are closed for a little while but that you to this amazing ask was from an anon! 🫶

─────── · ·

"Hello all you lovely watchers behind the screen, now I would usually save such corse words for the bedroom but you all appear lucky at the games table tonight," you cast a smile and wink towards the camera. Adjusting your wig before taking a drag out of your long fake cigarette. Your goal today was to get your boyfriend, Spencer, to break Character today in a video.

"As you can see, I am joined by a handful of my friends, especially this special friend beside me, remind me of your name again, dear?" you ask with a slight tilt to your head as you eye Spencer form his top hat down to his suspenders.

Spencer tries to hold your look before breaking under your stare, instead turning his back to you and turning fully towards the camera. "Good-day to you all, I am a gentleman here to play quite the crass game. Monopoly: Cheaters Addition, now I believe my wife would have something to say about this, but I wouldn't remember the names of any of them!"

"Ah'll tell ya what, mister, you're staring to sound like my fifth husband, couldn't remember my name while spending quality time with me inside the room nor outside. Now that I think about it, I can't seem to remember his name... maybe I should start to remember yours, m'sure a man like you would like that~" you tease yet keep to your chair observing as Spencer rolls his shoulders and turns to face you head on in character. By the wild look in his eyes, you can tell you are getting to him and by the end of this, you would be sure to hold him in the palm of your hand (in character of course!).

Disregarding your later statement, Gentleman Spencer clears his throat before replying, "And what type of man is your fifth husband, dashing and a rich-lad I would presume for something as gorgeous as you?"

You giggle to his words, hand reaching over the table to pick your piece, "Well, how am I s'possed to know? I'm only on my fourth but I'm sure he'll be out of the picture soon. I like to think I ran him dry in more ways than one-" Spencer begins coughing again before leaning down to erupt in laughter as does the rest of the cast and crew.

"Well, If yee two are done fucking around, It is time to introduce I- Thee masterful wizard thee-self, me" Shayne introduces his character, pointed a crocked finger and eye between the two of you. You shrug, taking a drag of your cigarette.

"Do tell me dear when it is my turn next, you see games of strategy are not for people like me- right?" you coyly state to Spencer who nods his head, still not ready to go back in character as you can see him taking in deep breathes to keep himself form falling into another pit of laughter and all you can do is smile, wiggling your eyebrows for all of that to go to hell.

"And it appears that the most intelligent always wait to go last. Names Tinky-Winky and I'm here to win. Should be easy with the table we have here tough-" Amanda tries to get the game moving before you put in one last jab.

"I wouldn't be to sure about that, what did you say, Rinky-Pinky?-?

"Tinky-Winky," Amanda clarifies with an eye-roll that you match with more exaggeration "Yes, tink-wink, whatever you're called just know that I will enjoy watching you all lose."

"Whatever you say, mobster," Amanda quips before quickly going over the rules as you place your head in your hands, blowing the hair out of your face.

─────── · ·

As the game progressed into the early stages, whatever civilized conversation you all tried to ensure at the start of the game was out the window, now full-blow yelling and screaming at one another as even the staff backed away, watching as the chaos exploded through the room and you all reverted fully into character.

"HEY! You just cheated!" Tinky-Winky Amanda screamed out to you, pointing their purple-gloved mitt in your face.

"Cheated?" You faked innocence, batting your eyelashes while speaking in a high pitched tone, "I would never cheat, thats something I save for me and my husbands!" you retort, now also standing up from your seat, hands gripping the table as you lena forwards to exaggerate your point before Spencer is pulling you back down to the table.

"Now I just don't like anyone putting their hands on my without me sayin' nothin' but I do like the feel of your hands, keep me grounded would ya? I'm forgetting my manners here with this lad," you mumble to the Gentleman beside you as he blushed bright red before starting to pull his hand away, coughing and choking on a reply only for you to hold in hand in position on your arm with a wink before returning your stolen money back to the bank and starting the new round.

"Penguin man! You seem a strange and pathetic fellow..." you off-handedly comment towards Spencer as Amanda takes her turn.

"Well yes, it comes from-" Spencer begins to speak before you continue your sentence.

"...I like that in a man," your voice drops to a sultry tone, head leaning against his arm enjoying the way Spencer sputters into nervous laughter and grips your hand.

─────── · ·

You noticed just how close Spencer had come multiple times during the filming but he had yet to call for a break, you were so sure of it at the start but had yet to get back to that point besides a few blushes and loaded looks your way but you stayed determined nevertheless.

Taking a long drag from your cigarette, you imagined it casting a hard cloud around and past Spencer head as you watched him take his turn, awaiting yours next. "Remember to win," you quiped with a sarcastic tone.

"I'll keep that in mind, dear. Now do be one and let this man concentrate," he replied with a playful glare in your direction before getting a snake-eyes that would nearly bankrupt the gentleman when landing on the dumpster wizards Shayne's hotel. "Fuck!" Spencer swore, tossing his top hat behind himself in outrage.

"I think the man needs to concentrate even more, I could help you~" you tease, picking up the top hat and placing it gently back on his head. Spencer only shakes his head once the hat is firmly back on. "I'm sure my mistresses are better-suited for such works, whatever would your husband think?"

"So outrageous of you to think my husband would do the thinking..." you mumble before picking up the dice in your hand and extending your palm with them towards Spencer. "Blow on these here die would ya, doll?" you ask as Shayne yells over the table, currently in a headlock from Tinky-Winky. "I thought it was custom to get the working women to blow your dice!?"

"Well he might be no dame but you're a dime in my eyes doll," you throw back without missing a beat.

"Ah-well. I may have a dime in my money bin! They make for a leisurely swim-" the Gentlemen comes into conversation as you are quick again to come to a response, "Would ya take me for a dip sometime then? I would love to see what else ya bring to the table?"

Spencer blinks, not wanting to look you into the eyes just yet and talks towards Amanda, "You know, I really can't say for certain, but do you think it's possible they're in it for the money and not my shining personality or physical connection?

And you do not allow time for Amanda to get a word in, knowing that now more than ever will get Spencer to crack his character, "It's not the money that I have my eyes on, sugar. I heard a little something about aerodynamics and clothes that I'm looking to test, and that test seems definitely responsive..." you end with a smirk watching as Spencer stands and turns around to face the wall.

"OKAY! OKAY!" Spencer admits to defeat as you stand up and cheer, running to hug him from behind as you both sway back and forth. "I made you loose character~" you sing-song.

"Yeah, yeah you did. Good job, lovely," Spencer groans before you both are told to re-take your seats and finish the game properly. To everyone surprise the Dumpster Wizard Shayne somehow ended up winning by pulling a Angela and stealing all the money as you were celebrating your boyfriends defeat in good fun.

"There is no way you could have won, I demand a recount!" you announce, throwing all your bills to the table. "And here I thought you weren't in it for the money," Spencer teases back. "Shut up, its only an added bonus," you snakily reply only to ultimately accept your defeat.

"Well, thank you all for sitting through this shit-show. We hope you join us again-" you begin to outro. "But not again for this exactly," Spencer cuts you off and clarify as the video fades to black by the sound of all your combined laughter flooding the studio once again.

─────── · ·

🔔 Smosh Games just posted! watch now?

─────── · ·

Gentleman's Rules: Cheaters Monopoly!

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] 👍 32k | 👎 7.78M subscribers 109k views 5 days ago only the politest of games... click to read more

998 Comments

username01 Spencer really out here acting all hot and flustered- simply adorable!

username43 The group of characters I never knew I needed, all we were missing was Chosen!Trevor and Angela to really round out the chaos of this episode!

username88 So in love with this Monopoly: Cheaters Edition- I never want it to end!!

username21 so... gentlemen's Just Dance when?

↳ username46 OMG YESSS, THIS HAS TO BE MADE A THING!!

username03 i love how determined (name) was to get Spencer to break character and how good he took it!

username94 really love how (name) was the one to make all of Spencers outrageous comments appear like the normal ones in comparison to theirs.

username77 Wait so i'm confused, im a new smosh fan and are these actors acting like they're dating or are they already together????

─────── · ·

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt @thevintagefangirl @uniquely-haunting @maricarorp @sarahskywalker-amidala

[akijooo]

Give Me Everything (Tonight)

SUMMARY

It only took one night in the Bahamas.

Jinu — who always insisted his rivalry with Rumi was strictly professional — finally let his walls down with the help of three glasses of black whisky and the sound of waves crashing behind them. Turns out, he had a lot more to say when there were no cameras, no stage, and no one else listening.

Mystery, ever the quiet type, always kept Zoey at arm’s length despite her obvious interest. Well, not until he finally matched Zoey’s bold energy with something unexpected — a look, a touch, a moment — that left her second-guessing who was really in control now.

Mira thought she had a type… until two very different boys showed up with matching confidence and entirely opposite appeal. One has the kind of body that made her scratch her preferences just right , the other had a kind of face that would make her doubt her preferences— and suddenly, the idea of choosing one seems like a bad idea when you can choose both of it.

And Baby Saja? He disappeared after midnight and reappeared at sunrise, barefoot, half-naked, and grinning, refusing to explain anything.

All of that unfolded in just one night on the beach. The Bahamas had never been messier.

Overview

“Cheers!”

The clink of wine glasses rang out under the golden Bahamian sunset, the sea breeze warm against their sunkissed skin.

Hunterix had claimed one side of the private beach, the soft crash of waves just behind them, a low bonfire crackling in front. The smell of salt, grilled shrimp, and roasted marshmallows filled the air. It was their first real break in months — no rehearsals, no stage lights, no screaming fans — just sand, sea, and the taste of freedom.

“What a great tour,” Rumi sighed, sinking back into the oversized bean bag chair and swirling her wine. “Ending the world tour on a good note — no disasters, no wardrobe malfunctions, no last-minute vocal rests. I’m almost emotional.”

“I knowww!” Mira said, dramatically flopping beside Zoey on the striped lounger. Her curls were still wet from the ocean, her oversized sunglasses sliding down her nose. “Thirty stadiums. Sold out. Hunterix didn’t just perform — we ate.”

“We didn’t just eat,” Zoey added, smug and glowing under the fairy lights. “We devoured.”

“Spoken like a true leader,” Rumi grinned, holding up her glass again.

They laughed, tipsy off the wine and the relief of being done — finally done. The afternoon sun hung low but still bright, casting warm, golden light that stretched lazily across the shore. Music from a portable speaker buzzed somewhere near the beach bar.

Then Zoey frowned, pulling out her phone from the beach blanket. She zoomed in on a blurry Instagram story. “Huh. Tell me this isn’t what I think it is…”

“What?” Mira leaned in, squinting. “Is that—?”

“It is,” Zoey said, tone darkening. “The Saja boys are in the Bahamas.”

Rumi quickly turned his head towards Zoey, furrowing her eyebrows almost immediately. “You’re bluffing.”

She flashed her screen in front of Rumi, which collected an exasperated groan from her.

“Why do they always follow our schedule?” Rumi complained, tossing her half-eaten marshmallow into the fire. “It’s like they have ears in hell or something.”

“They just want to steal our moment again – just like how they want to steal our fans!,” Mira muttered. “Didn’t they drop their comeback teaser, like, right after ours?”

“Two hours after,” Zoey said, jabbing her skewer into the sand. “They’ve made a career out of riding our coattails. No originality. Just… jawlines, abs, and pretty face!”

“Jawlines, I can agree for sure,” Rumi said with a sigh, sipping her wine. “But talent? Debatable.”

“Fuck Saja boys,” Mira said casually, grabbing another marshmallow.

“Yeah. Fuck Saja boys,” Zoey repeated with a smirk, raising her glass again.

“Fuck Saja boys!” Rumi huffed, stabbing at the fire with more aggression than necessary.

“Well, that’s one way to start a conversation,” said a voice — low, amused, and unmistakably familiar.

The girls froze. They knew exactly who it was without having to turn their heads. It’s as if their worst collective nightmare had just spoken.

Slowly, very slowly, they turned.

And there they were.

The Saja boys.

(Cue music: Uhh Ahh) Jinu. Abby. Romance. Mystery. Baby. In that exact order.

Wearing linen shirts, swim shorts, sunglasses perched on damp hair, and that unmistakable aura of boys who knew they looked good. They strolled down from the beach villa like they owned the coast.

Jinu stood with his hands tucked in his pockets, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Mind if we sit with you guys?”

“Hell no!” Rumi shot to her feet like she’d been electrocuted. “Bahamas is big, why are you here?!”

“I should be the one asking you that. Why are you here?” But Jinu is already sliding into the seat beside Rumi before she could say no.

“Wow, thank you, Hunterix girls are so generous.” Abby said smoothly, sitting next on Mira’s left side while he helps himself with a can of soda in the girl’s cooler.

Romance gave Mira a wink, sitting on her right side. “We keep meeting like this. I’m starting to think that you like me.”

Mira groaned and pulled the hood of her beach robe over her face.

Meanwhile, Baby dropped into the beanbag like the whole idea was forced on him — honestly, he just wanted to sleep in. He took a soda from the cooler and drank it in one go.

“Hey, those drinks are—“ Zoey’s mouth opened to protest, but Mystery sat beside her and leaned just close enough to send her mind spiraling. “Hey.”

She stiffened as she felt their knees touch. “Oh my god. This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, I’m afraid that it’s happening,” Jinu said, toasting a marshmallow with a grin. “Sir, can I have two more servings of scallops here?” he called toward the villa like they had room service.

That’s when realization hit Rumi. The photos. The tags. The overlapping posts.

“Oh my god.” She looked between them, then back at the beach house behind them. “You’re not just in the Bahamas.”

“We’re staying here,” Jinu confirmed with a slow grin. “Same villa. Surprise!”

“Who the hell booked this place?” Mira hissed, looking ready to throw someone’s phone into the ocean.

“I thought this villa was exclusive?” Rumi snapped, furiously typing out a message. “If Bobby planned this, I’m burning my contract.”

“You’re texting Bobby? Great! Tell him I said hi,” Jinu added cheerfully, peeking over her shoulder. Rumi nearly elbowed him in the ribs.

“Why not see this as a bonding opportunity?” Abby said, already making himself at home. “Hunterix and Saja — embracing our mutual indifference.”

“Or,” Romance offered with a shrug, “a perfectly-timed PR stunt. Two top global groups. One villa. Has a nice ring to it, no?”

“This is going to go downhill faster than our encore set in Tokyo.” Rumi groaned, burying her face into her palm. From beside her came a quiet chuckle. She shifted her fingers just enough to shoot a side-eye at the man next to her — only to be met with Jinu’s smug, infuriating grin.

So much for a calm, well-deserved first day of vacation.

And just like that, what was meant to be a peaceful, well-earned first day of vacation turned into something else entirely — tense, crowded, and dangerously close to a headline.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67094761

[crackedpumpkin]

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟗 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“I don’t get it.” You cross your arms, glaring at Jay, who looks like he’s seconds away from tearing his hair out.

“What’s so hard about down-up-left, smash-up, then down again two times ?” He jabs a finger in your direction, his tone accusing. His game controller lies abandoned on the carpet, thrown there in his dramatic rage-quit.

“Firstly, how dare you assume I know anything about this game,” you retort, raising a brow. Your own controller dangles limply from your hand as you return his glare with equal intensity. “Secondly, you’re the one who was lacking a teammate. In case you didn’t notice, I was busy trying to kill those aliens you let through.”

Jay groans, dramatically slumping back on the couch like the very fabric of existence has betrayed him.

To be fair, he’d given you little choice but to join him. He’d texted you the second your classes ended, announcing that it was his turn for guard duty. After a week of being chaperoned by Nya and Kai (who at least managed to stay professional about it) you were left with Jay. Fun.

Nya had dropped you off with a laptop full of incomplete Word files and a heap of boredom. It didn’t last long. Jay had instantly yelled for you to join him in the game room, and, well, here you were.

“Hello.” Zane’s voice cuts through the argument as he enters the room wearing a pink apron, carrying a plate of cookies. You seize the distraction, leaving Jay to sulk on the couch as you swipe one from the plate.

“I assume you’re having fun?” Zane asks, though you suspect he already knows the answer.

You smirk, nodding. “He can never know how I kicked your butt last time we played this game,” you whisper, giving Zane a conspiratorial glance.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Zane replies, though there’s a subtle hint of mischief in his tone.

You pat his shoulder, taking another bite of the cookie. “Good man.”

It’s then you notice something off. It’s not the blinking arcade lights in the corner or the disorganized pile of vinyl records waiting for salvation. Neither is it the foosball table that’s been turned on its side or the random origami paper on the ground.

“Where’s everyone else?”

Zane tilts his head, as though mentally ticking off a list. “Sensei Wu gave the students the day off. Nya and Kai are still on patrol. Lloyd is in the strategy room with Pixel, and Cole stepped out to grab some pizza for dinner.” He pauses, glancing at you. “Will you be staying?”

You sigh wistfully, longing for a slice of Hawaiian pizza. “I wish. But I’ve got dinner at home I can’t skip. I’ve already been out with you guys too often this week.”

“For your safety,” Zane reminds gently. “This thief, whoever they are, is still at large and remains a significant threat. However, Lloyd mentioned an update earlier. Perhaps you’d like to join me to hear it?”

Your gaze flicks to Jay, now fully engrossed in setting up a solo game, and then to your laptop perched on the table. “Yeah, alright. Lead the way.”

Zane guides you through a set of doors and into a lift, which hums softly as it descends into the depths of the base. The doors slide open with a hiss, revealing the familiar sight of the strategy room, bathed in the soft glow of monitors.

Pixel is the first to notice you, offering a welcoming smile. Lloyd glances over his shoulder, his brows lifting in surprise. “Hey,” he greets, a slight grin tugging at his lips. “Didn’t expect you down here. How’ve you been?”

“Could always be better,” you reply with a shrug, matching his casual tone. His grin widens, and you can tell he’s already picking up on your vibe.

“Heard there’s an update,” you say, gesturing to the room. “Anything I can do to help?”

Lloyd hesitates for a moment before nodding to Pixel. She presses a button, and in an instant, holographic screens materialise, casting a pale glow over the room.

You try to read the text, but it’s dense. Paragraphs of information fly past faster than your brain can process. Instead, your attention is caught by a sketch of a masked figure, their features obscured, and a blurry CCTV photo beside it.

“That’s the thief,” Lloyd explains, stepping beside you. His tone grows serious as he gestures to the photo. “Unfortunately, this is the clearest image we’ve got. All the cameras surrounding the jewelry store went offline during the heist. Pixel’s still analysing the footage for anomalies, but so far, nothing adds up.”

“Convenient,” you mutter, squinting at the screens. “So they knew how to cover their tracks.”

“Exactly,” Lloyd replies, his expression grim. “Whoever this is, they’re good. Too good.”

“And the Scrolls?” you ask, noticing another screen displaying text about their ancient origins.

“They’re connected,” he says, voice tight. “The thief’s after them for a reason, but we’re still piecing together why. If they get their hands on all of them…”

The weight of his unfinished sentence hangs heavy in the air.

“Well,” you say, crossing your arms and forcing a smirk, “guess it’s a good thing you’ve got a team of ninja and a… very stressed university student on the case.”

Lloyd chuckles lightly, the tension easing just a fraction. “Yeah. Guess it is.”

Pixel steps forward, her mechanical fingers tapping on a keyboard. “We’ve highlighted the thief’s potential next targets. With your permission, Lloyd, I can brief her on the details.”

He nods, and you step closer to the screens, your smirk fading as you take in the gravity of what’s unfolding.

“I believe Cole mentioned this at dinner the other night,” Pixel begins, swiping her hand across one of the holographic screens. The image shifts, revealing three distinct scrolls. Each is wrapped with a different colored string. One red, one blue, one gold, and sealed within ornate tubes etched with intricate patterns.

Pretty.

“These are the only three Scrolls whose locations are known,” Pixel continues. She points to the red scroll first, its intricate casing glowing faintly on the screen. “The Scroll of Fate. This was stolen here in Ninjago the night of the charity auction.” She taps the image, and it zooms in to show an empty display case surrounded by police tape.

Your hand curls into a fist at your side, recalling the way the ground had collapsed in on you with that stupid gauntlet the thief had worn when they punched the floor. 

Her finger moves to the blue scroll. “This is the Scroll of Dreams, located in Cloud Kingdom.” The image shifts to a floating realm wreathed in mist. It looks almost ethereal, your eyes widening in awe. 

Finally, she gestures to the gold scroll. “And this is the Scroll of Destiny, housed in the Temple of Light.” The screen transitions to a simple temple atop a grassy mountain, its white stone walls and red accents glowing under the bright sunlight. 

“Wait.” You hold up a hand, frowning as a memory tugs at the edge of your mind. “Didn’t Cole say there were four?”

Lloyd and Pixel exchange quick, knowing glances. You narrow your eyes, suspicion bubbling up.

“The fourth is… different,” Zane chimes in, stepping forward. His tone is calm, but his words carry a heavy undertone of solemnness. “Its location is a mystery, known only to its guardian, who guards it fiercely. Even its name has been lost to time.”

“Great,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “So it’s like some mythical hide-and-seek. What happens when the thief gets their hands on these three?”

“The first three Scrolls can be combined to form a map,” Zane explains. “A map that reveals the location of the fourth Scroll.”

You frown. Even the very notion sounds complicated. What’d they use? Glow-in-the-dark ink?

“Exactly,” Lloyd says, his jaw tightening. “That’s why we need to figure out the thief’s next move before they can get their hands on the others.”

Pixel nods. “And we must also understand why they are targeting you. Their intentions remain unclear.”

Looking at the ground with a defeated sigh, you kick at an imaginary pebble. Great. Juuuust great.

“Yes,” Lloyd says, his tone sharpening as he turns to face you fully. “Are you sure there’s no one you might suspect? Someone from your past, or even recently, who might have a connection to this?”

“What?!” You gape at him, incredulous. “Dude, I just moved here. I barely know anyone, and my enemies list is at a solid zero. I think. I’m pretty sure.” You pause at his sceptical look. “I’m sure.”

Lloyd exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as his shoulders tense. “I had to ask.” 

“Maybe try asking the thief next time they pop up,” you quip, leaning back against the table. “Pretty sure they’d have more answers than me.”

Lloyd shakes his head, muttering something under his breath. Pixel offers a small smile, attempting to ease the tension.

“Regardless,” she says, her tone soothing, “your safety remains our priority. We will continue to monitor the Scrolls and the thief’s movements.”

“Good to know,” you reply, though the idea of being a walking target gnaws at the edges of your thoughts. Vulnerability isn’t an option, so you shove the unease aside and straighten your back.

Lloyd steps forward, his gaze softening. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

You nod, forcing a small smile. Pixel parts her lips, about to say something before another voice pipes up. 

“I got the goods!”

All heads swivel toward the lift. Cole strides in, pizza boxes stacked high in his arms, his grin as wide as ever. He stops short, eyebrows quirking as he takes in the scattered documents and glowing screens. His eyes land on you, and his grin shifts into a wry smile.

“You gonna stay for dinner or what?”

— — — — — 

You did not, in fact, stay for dinner. But right now, you wish you were back at the monastery. Anywhere but here, sitting next to Emily of all people. 

She cheers when the fireworks go off a short distance away, your dad gesturing back as he lights up another one. What was supposed to be a calm, peaceful dinner quickly turned into a kidnapping when he sprung the surprise of a beach hangout instead.

Emily had been caught off guard too, warily glancing in your direction before nodding when he grinned widely. Now, here she was, sitting awkwardly beside you, the two of you making an unspoken agreement to ignore each other as much as possible atop an old Barney the Dinosaur mat he’d somehow found.

“Here.” Her voice snaps you out of your brooding. She holds out a sparkler, its long, unlit stick wavering slightly in her hand. You glare at it, suspicion and annoyance bubbling up. Of course, she’d try to break the awkward silence with a gesture like this.

You don’t move at first, staring at the sparkler like it’s a snake ready to bite. However, your love for the stupid small stick wins out. Huffing out a breath, you snatch it from her hand, your fingers brushing briefly against hers.

Dang it.

“Thanks,” you mutter, though the gratitude is purely for the sparkler, not the person handing it to you.

She nods, looking away. 

A candle flickers a few feet away, stuck in the sand. Your dad had set it up earlier, claiming it was for the sake of convenience before running off to light up the more whimsical fireworks near the coastline.

You shuffle over, careful not to let the grains stick to your jeans, and lean forward to light the sparkler. The tiny flame catches with a hiss, and it comes to life in a shower of glowing embers.

For a moment, you just watch it, letting it dangle limply from your fingers as it sputters and sparks. The light reflects in your eyes, the embers reminding you of a certain someone. But the joy is fleeting. It fizzles out far too soon, leaving only the acrid smell of smoke and a charred stick.

You toss it aside, brushing your hands off. A firework whistles into the sky, bursting into brilliant red and gold. Emily claps beside you, her enthusiasm grating on your nerves.

You glance down at the sand, grimacing at the thought of it clinging to your clothes. With a resigned sigh, you shift closer to her. Anything to avoid the gritty annoyance.

She glances your way, perhaps sensing the movement. Her mouth opens like she’s about to say something, but she seems to think better of it, turning her attention back to the fireworks.

Another one explodes in the sky, showering the night with brilliant light. You tilt your head up, watching it fade. For a second, you close your eyes. It makes it easier to pretend that Emily isn’t there, that it’s your mother instead. 

Then, she hesitates. You can feel her glance, the kind of awkward sideways look that signals incoming small talk. Silently, you pray for the moment to pass before it even begins.

But of course, your prayers aren’t answered. They never are.

“So…” she begins, her voice tentative. “How’s Master Wu’s classes going?”

You tense, not expecting her to bring that up. Your gaze flicks toward her briefly before returning to the waves you can barely make out in the dim candlelight that slowly sweeps onto the shore. “They’re… fine.”

She nods, clearly trying to gauge whether that response is an opening or a dead end. She chooses the former, her tone turning almost casual. “He’s… quite something, isn’t he? You know, I actually met him once. A while back.”

That catches your attention, but only slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She smiles, a little fondly. “At one of my book signings, of all places. He showed up right at the end of the event, stood patiently in line with this serene expression. At first, I thought he was in the wrong place, but nope. He handed me a copy of Heartstrings of Eternity —”

You can’t stop yourself from blinking at her. “Wait. Master Wu… a romance novel?”

She laughs, light and easy. “That was my reaction too. But he was very polite about it, said he appreciated the deeper themes and my perspective on fate.”

You stare at her, trying to picture Master Wu solemnly flipping through pages of a swoony love story. The mental image doesn’t compute, and yet, there’s a weird sort of charm to it. “Huh,” you say finally. “Never pegged him for a romance novel fan.”

Emily grins. “I didn’t either. But he has this way of making you feel like everything he does is somehow deeply intentional, you know?”

You don’t respond immediately, unsure how to navigate the conversation. Reluctantly, you offer, “Yeah. He’s… definitely got that vibe.”

To your horror, Emily continues. “He even gave me this little nugget of wisdom before he left. Something like, ‘The threads of destiny weave through all hearts, even in fiction.’ I’m pretty sure it was his way of telling me he liked my book.”

You hum absentmindedly, shifting slightly as the sand threatens to creep onto your clothes. A firework bursts overhead, painting the sky in gold and blue.

Emily watches the display for a moment before speaking again, her tone softer. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re taking his classes. He doesn’t exactly hand out invitations to just anyone, you know?”

Her words hang in the air, uncomfortably sincere.It would be easy to brush her off, easy to pretend the entire conversation didn’t happen and just not respond. But you’re reminded of the first time you met the rest of the ninja, how quickly you warmed up to their presence despite your whole soulmate situation.

Eventually, you nod. “I appreciate it. The classes are…” you hesitate momentarily, eyes flicking to her before casting them back to the mat beneath you, fingers tracing the outline of Barney the Dinosaur's mocking smile. “They’re good.”

You can hear her sharp inhale and already regret your words. Luckily, you’re saved from more conversation when your dad finally returns to the mat. He’s breathless, his forehead shining with sweat, but his smile remains as he collapses into the small space between Emily and you.

“Seems like my girls are getting along well!”

Emily parts her lips, glancing at you with uncertainty. You shrug your shoulders, offering probably one of the best responses you have given so far.

Your dad doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he doesn’t care about the awkward tension lingering in the air. With an exaggerated flourish, he pulls a plastic bag out from behind him, the Chen’s Noodle Palace logo emblazoned in bright red on the side.

“Dinner is served!” he announces, holding the bag up like it’s a trophy.

You blink. “Chen’s? Here?”

“Turns out they do takeaway for beach picnics now,” he says, pulling out steaming containers of noodles. “I had to wait forever, but trust me, it’s worth it. Best noodles in Ninjago City!”

You and Emily exchange glances, both skeptical. Your dad opens the first container, releasing a savory, mouthwatering aroma that has you leaning in despite yourself.

Emily perks up, her earlier hesitation forgotten. “That actually smells amazing.”

“I know, right?” Your dad grins, passing you one of the containers and some chopsticks. “Dig in!”

You take a cautious bite, the flavors immediately bursting on your tongue. Sweet, salty, umami…it is surprisingly good. You don’t realize you’ve taken a second bite until you catch him watching you with an annoyingly triumphant smirk.

“Told you,” he says smugly.

Emily is already halfway through her portion, nodding in agreement. “Okay, I have to admit, this is probably the best takeaway I’ve had in months. Guess they really improved ever since the original owner stepped down.”

Your dad beams, clearly basking in the success of his food choice. Just as you’re about to go for another bite, Emily taps her chopsticks against her container lightly, drawing your attention.

“Hey,” she says, holding up a golden-brown piece of tempura prawn. “Wanna try?”

You hesitate, the automatic response on the tip of your tongue. No, thanks. I’m good. But the way she holds it makes you pause.

“Uh…” you trail off, glancing at her offering. Before you can decide, she gently sets the prawn on the edge of your container.

“There,” she says with a small smile. “No pressure.”

You glance at the prawn, then back at her, reluctantly nudging it into the noodles with your chopsticks. “Thanks.”

Your dad watches the exchange, his expression softening. He doesn’t say anything, but the glint of pride in his eyes is impossible to miss. You shift uncomfortably, focusing on the noodles instead.

“Wow,” Emily says after a moment, gesturing at the food with her chopsticks. “I don’t know what’s better, the fireworks or these.”

“Definitely the noodles,” you mumble through another mouthful.

She chuckles softly, and for once in a long while, the air between you feels a little less tense.

— — — — — 

- [ Musketeer ] has changed [ Cake Enthusiast ] to [ Rocky’s Dad ] -

- [ Rocky’s Dad ] has changed [ Musketeer ] to [ anarchy ] -

Rocky’s Dad [ 11:02 PM ]: i always knew id be used for my dragon

anarchy [ 11:11 PM ]: lol what

anarchy [ 11:11 PM ]: lololol what is this name

anarchy [ 11:11 PM ]: do i even wanna know

Rocky’s Dad [ 11:20 PM ]: sry was in the shower

Rocky’s Dad [ 11:20 PM ]: at least make my name shorter

- [ anarchy ] has changed [ Rocky’s Dad ] to [ kole ] -

kole [ 11:24 PM ]: .

anarchy [ 11:24 PM ]: ?

kole [ 11:24 PM ]: anyw i got the short straw for next week

- Incoming Call from [ kole ]-

“Send me your schedule.”

“For free?” You put him on speaker, resuming your essay on the study of Borg Industries. “Don’t tell me you’re enrolling like Nya did. How does she even find the time?”

“You’d be surprised at her multitasking skills,” Cole replies, his voice tinged with amusement. In the background, you catch faint sounds of Jay and Kai bickering. The noise fades, and you suspect he’s left the room. “Anyway, since I’m your bodyguard next week, I figured we’d need a solid cover story.”

You hum, absently tapping the spacebar. “What kind of cover story?”

The line falls quiet. You glance at your phone, narrowing your eyes as if the device itself could pull an answer out of him. “What kind of cover story, Cole?”

After a beat, he says, “I think it’d be easier if we pretended to be a couple.”

Your hands hover above the keyboard. With deliberate care, you set your glasses aside and pinch the bridge of your nose. “...Why?”

“For starters, I’m not about to enroll in a business course I know nothing about. And second, people don’t ask as many questions when it’s soulmate-related. Makes it less complicated.”

You groan.

“Wow,” he says, his voice mockingly wounded. “At least warn me if you’re a hater.”

You highly doubt he’s offended. Secretly, you suspect he’s just as much of a drama queen as the others, maybe worse.

Pausing, you weigh your options. Unfortunately, it does make sense. No one would believe two "friends" willingly spending that much time together unless they were besties or soulmates.

Luckily for you, he falls into the latter.

“Fine,” you relent, “but we’re setting some ground rules.”

“Oh, agreed,” he replies, adding a theatrical shudder. “Rule one: we can never fall for each other.”

That draws a laugh out of you.

“Rule two,” you continue, “hand holding is allowed, but no PDA. I refuse to be that kind of couple.”

“Absolutely. We’ll save the PDA for the privacy of the monastery.”

You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips as you close your laptop and pick up a pen to fiddle with. “Rule three: you pay for our ‘dates’.”

“Dates? As in plural?” he teases. “Didn’t realize you liked me that much.”

You snort. “Very funny, Brookstone. But you know I have to study to pass. You only had to take a few Zoom classes.”

“Hey, online university is hard when you’re saving civilians half the time.” He clears his throat, his tone softening. “Will you be okay, though? Studying outside, I mean.”

Your chest tightens at the shift in mood. You nod reflexively before realizing he can’t see you. “I’ll be fine. Corner seats in cafes are better anyway. Out of sight, out of mind, right?”

The joke lands flat, and Cole forces out a weak chuckle. “How about we swing by Papa’s? He’s been asking about you.”

“I still don’t get how you managed to charm him into giving you free stuff every time he sees you.”

“What can I say?” His smugness practically oozes through the speaker. “I’m just that amazing. Good-looking too, if I dare say so. And also smart. Can’t forget smart.”

You hum in mock agreement, though part of you begrudgingly acknowledges it. He is rather handsome. Objectively speaking, of course.

“Welp,” he cuts himself off with a yawn. “I’ll see you next week.”

“And hereI thought ninjas never run out of stamina.” You state, picking up the phone. “Goodnight, Cole.”

“Night.”

You hang up.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 

Taglist: @candyquokka @mossy-mika @em-100-blog @cursedreader @alicesmile1 @alexa24 @raegreenie4 @burdeningbitch @viennasthings @cadencannot @ml3czqo @nanasemo @certified-cole-simp @beescomet @theblindhag @mitbin24 @sweetlittlebumblebree @brooklyniswriting @cantbecreative @something-else3 @iinlovewithfictionalppl @itz-moonlight @jebesovovise @ryeheep @letthelightin2112 @classically-bored @clearlawyereaglewobbler @anajellyc @the-midnight-duck @fru1ty-bage3ls

[haysaca]

Argus and her recurrent toxic yuris

Finished 2.1, was a fun ride, I think I have a few thoughts in mind but rn the most prevalent one is: Damn, I did NOT expect argus and tuesday to be more toxic than valenweis. So have a compilation of my reactions I guess.

Sheesh girlie is actually just taunting her to the extreme and I didn't even include her whole jab at her candy reliance. This is legit the perfect pair for the hatesex trope.

Like for a moment, I even thought tuesday was implying she banged and stole kayla here lmao

(its canon, poor argus got ntr'd, source is me I swear I'm not just delusional)

She just insulted her outta nowhere lmao. Though a delusional mind (not me) can interpret this as tuesday wanting to break argus down to tears.

Girl was actually rendered speechless 😭😭 Sorry tuesday she does not match your freak at all!!

She cannot be tamed at all and she's so real for that ngl. I'm so glad they went all out on her lack of fear/fear is her kink because I just absolutely adore unapologetic villains and she's definitely one, or rather a pretty good psychopath since she doesn't really care much for people, only their fears (I think, I haven't seen her story yet). Anyways argus made the right decision to dip, she CANNOT handle her freak.

That's about it for this toxic pair but I wanna talk about kayla too since I feel like she ain't a much better option for argus considering yknow, her identity and affiliations 😭

I know this is just an illusion by the motel but it'd be so fucked up if their relationship was actually this toxic, like the motel digs up stuff from their memories so this insecurity or perception of kayla had to come somewhere from deep inside argus' mind.

What's worse is, she could be right, considering kayla is a top tier of manus fucking vindictae 😭. Poor girl has insecurities of being wielded like a mindless tool, tries to assure herself that the woman shes pining and looking for is not that, only for said woman to be avoiding her because shes already served her purpose for her (I think, we'll see in argus' story I guess).

Though it could be a more mutual angsty case if we interpret kayla's smile as a sign she considers argus as more than that, maybe a pet instead :P (have high doubts she actually reciprocates her feelings the same way).

Poor argus cannot escape scummy women, hope she'll find happiness in vertin's suitcase because let's be fr she's joining us.

Also I absolutely love this particular quote because it's not just a jab at argus' trust issues but also an indirect one at her insecurity in her own image, her fear of hesitating, failing and being seen as incompetent (I think she has them? otherwise i don't really know what the townspeople in her hallucination are meant to signify).

Ok one last thought: I think argus' best shot for a happy yuri out of the entire 2.1 cast is legit with Ms. Karen Kimberly over here.

Because as hostile as their interactions are, their dynamic was pretty funny and nice compared to tuesday's harassment.

They radiate big bully x dumb bimbo energy, a pretty classic and tame rivalry dynamic. Kimberly's also the one with the least malicious/mean intentions towards argus, she doesn't want to harm or even use her, she just wants to eat!

So long as they take the time to talk it out and not point lethal weapons at each other, I'm sure they could get along in some way (looking at you argus, put that gun down and listen to your heart more, you big softie).

Alright that's about it for my ramble on argus and her misfortune with women, shoutout to @jeremy_exe on twitter for cooking up the only anjoargus art I've seen so far.

[sunlightmurdock]

Bonfire | MFIY (Frat Boy) Bradley

Spookweek masterlist | My Future in You masterlist

*This is set within the universe of my fic My Future in You, but can be read as a standalone (and should be tbh as it doesn’t fit the canon of that fic).

Synopsis: Keeping your pregnancy and your hookups a secret proves to be a little difficult when a tipsy Bradley finds you at his frat house’s annual autumn bonfire.

Warnings: fratboy!bradley, accidental pregnancy, pregnant!reader, seresin!reader, alcohol/bradley being drunk and affectionate, no use of y/n, flirting. WC: 0.8k

“Hey, you made it!” Red cup in hand, equally red cheeks to match, he starts toward you with mud and leaves under his Nikes and a beaming smile on his face. He smiles like that when he’s inebriated.

That’s what you’re allowed to call it — since he ‘doesn’t get drunk’.

Just as quickly as he lifts his arms, they’re thrown around you, heavy in his fleece lined denim jacket. His cold cheek bristles yours as he pushes his one hand under your unzipped coat, his fingers skirting your waist, his lips grazing your neck.

Peering around the verge of his thick, denim-padded shoulder, you catch a glimpse of your big brother deep in conversation with a few of his buddies, talking wildly with his hands, the glow of the bonfire casting amber shadows across his face.

As he pulls back, Bradley’s free hand skims across the developing roundness of your stomach. Under the thick covers of your thermal layer and college branded hoodie, he can’t really feel anything, but his fingers linger there anyway. Sprawled across your belly, protective and affectionate in one touch.

“I missed you.” He murmurs, flickering shadows casting flecks of gold across the brown in his eyes. His lips twitch, boyish and sweet as he almost smiles, flexing his fingers where they sit. “Both of you.”

As much as the smile does its best to take over your face, you wrinkle your mouth and try to twist away from him. “Don’t be stupid.”

His lips part in mock offence, dark eyes glinting with mischief as he lets you go.

“What? — I can’t be excited to see the mother of my child?”

“Weird time to start, is all.” You hit back, physically too, jabbing at his arm as you try to pass him by.

He almost sighs, hearing your boots crunch against the leaves below you and knowing that you’re about to ditch him for another night of hiding behind your friends. He wants to talk. He wants to hold you.

“Wait! — Do you… want a drink?”

You spin to face him as he does the same, glancing down at your stomach. Even he isn’t that dumb.

“No, like cocoa or something? I think we have some.”

It’s becoming a more frequent thing for your open palm to find its way to your stomach, sitting there protectively. You raise your brows at him as your fingers rests against your growing bump. “You’re going to make me a hot chocolate?”

He breaks into a smile, almost giddy as he lifts his cup and shrugs his shoulders, gulping back a quick sip. “If you want one.”

You almost tell him no; you almost do the sensible thing and turn around to find your friends, and start to enjoy this evening while ignoring him like you’re supposed to.

But, it’s a rare occasion for him to offer to make himself useful. Pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek, you think on his offer while he swishes around the drops of beer left in his cup.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

The kitchen in this place is almost always a mess, and today is no exception. An island littered with drinks and mixers, counters filled with used red solo cups. You follow him cautiously, tugging your jacket closer to your body.

He searches through the cabinets, clumsily letting doors slam as he goes until he finds what he’s looking for. “Ah, here — do you want marshmallows?”

“I want the whole works.” As he peers back to find you leaning against the wall with your arms folded and a shit-eating grin on your face, a strange feeling plucks at his heartstrings, something like butterflies in his stomach.

He smiles back, almost sheepish now, as he thinks to the long future ahead. “Noted.”

There’s something different about tonight. You don’t know what it is, and really, neither does he. He doesn’t know why tonight specifically is the night that he feels so differently, but he does know that the smile on your face as he passes you a steaming mug makes his chest feel tight.

Your lips stretch into a smile, all surprise and amusement, staring down at the mix of marshmallows and whipped cream — and M&M’s, because he didn’t have chocolate powder to dust, but had insisted on adding.

“This looks…” You shake your head softly, at a loss for words as you glance up at him. He smiles, cheeks pink. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Neither one of you is in any hurry to step back out into the cold, but you can’t hide in the kitchen all night. He follows behind you as you step out into the backyard, one hand on the small of your back as you go.

You’re not expecting for him to reach for your free hand, but he does. He guides you over to two camping chairs and all but demands that you sit with him. For the first time in a couple of months, he really talks to you.

He listens to you.

Amber flames casting flickering shadows over your face, your hands warm from the mug between them, your eyes solely on him.

He’s glad that he begged your friends to convince you to come.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hi! I saw your post for Nightcrawler prompts, and I thought maybe some simple fluff; what might it be like to binge an adventure series (like Pirates of the Caribbean) with our beloved teleporter? Thanks bunches, and take care!

Swashbuckling with Nightcrawler

The living room lights were dimmed, casting long shadows across the furniture as the closing credits of the final movie in the series rolled. A triumphant score filled the air, the kind of music that made you want to stand up, grab a sword, and declare yourself the ruler of the seas. You glanced over at Kurt—better known as Nightcrawler—his golden eyes wide with excitement, his tail twitching in sync with the music.

"Ach, what an adventure!" Kurt exclaimed, his German accent thick with enthusiasm. "The way they captured the sea, the sword fights, the danger—so exhilarating!"

You smiled, sharing his enthusiasm. "The best part was the sword fights, though," you replied. "They looked like they were having so much fun."

Kurt's eyes gleamed mischievously. "Why don't we try it for ourselves?" he suggested, his grin widening as he teleported in a puff of smoke, reappearing beside the coat rack by the door. He grabbed two umbrellas, holding one out to you with a flourish.

"Ready to duel, mein freund?" he challenged, a playful glint in his eye.

You took the umbrella, feeling the weight of it in your hand. It wasn't a real sword, but with Kurt's imagination—and his powers—it would certainly feel like one. You twirled the makeshift weapon, trying to mimic the fluid, confident movements of the pirates from the movies.

Kurt chuckled, teleporting again to the other side of the room, now perched on the back of the couch. "En garde!" he called, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished, only to reappear directly in front of you, his umbrella clashing with yours.

The sound of metal-on-metal rang out in your mind, even though you both knew it was just the swish of fabric against fabric. You parried his strike, spinning around to counter with a playful jab of your own. Kurt teleported again, this time behind you, and tapped your shoulder with the tip of his umbrella.

"Too slow!" he teased, laughing as he flipped gracefully over the coffee table.

"That's cheating, you know!" you said, laughing breathlessly as you tried to keep up with him. You could never tell where he'd reappear next; it was like fighting a phantom. The entire living room had transformed into a pirate ship—at least in your minds. The couch was the deck, the coffee table a treasure chest, and the curtains billowed like sails in the imagined sea breeze.

Kurt leaped onto the arm of the couch, balancing perfectly as he parried another one of your strikes. His teleportation made him nearly impossible to catch, but that didn't stop you from trying. The two of you were grinning like children, caught up in the sheer joy of play.

You managed to land a hit, tapping him on the side with your umbrella. "Gotcha!" you exclaimed, feeling a surge of triumph.

Kurt staggered dramatically, clutching his side as though mortally wounded. "Oh, you’ve bested me!" he cried, falling back onto the couch in an exaggerated faint. "But I shall have my revenge!"

Before you could react, he teleported again, this time appearing upside-down, hanging from the chandelier. He grinned down at you, his tail wrapped around the chain, swinging slightly as though he were dangling from a ship’s rigging.

"Are you ready for the final duel?" he asked, eyes glowing with excitement.

"Bring it on," you replied, raising your umbrella in challenge.

Kurt dropped from the chandelier, landing nimbly in front of you. The room seemed to shrink as your duel became faster, more intense, your laughter mixing with the imagined clashing of swords. He moved with a speed and agility that was almost impossible to follow, yet you found yourself matching him blow for blow, the rhythm of the fight becoming almost like a dance.

Finally, with one last, dramatic swing, you both clashed in the middle of the room, the momentum causing you to spin around and fall back onto the couch, breathless and laughing. Kurt collapsed beside you, his tail flicking lazily as he caught his breath.

"That was—amazing," you said between gasps, your heart pounding with exhilaration.

Kurt grinned, his fangs flashing in the dim light. "Ja, it was," he agreed, his voice filled with contentment. "I haven’t had that much fun in a long time."

You lay there for a moment, the remnants of your imaginary battle still playing out in your mind. The excitement slowly ebbed, leaving behind a warm, satisfied glow.

"Next time, we’ll have to make it a real adventure," Kurt said thoughtfully, his gaze distant as if imagining what that might be like. "With real swords, and maybe even a ship."

"Deal," you said, chuckling at the thought. "But you have to promise not to teleport all the time."

Kurt laughed, a soft, joyful sound that made you smile. "No promises," he replied, his tail wrapping around your arm in a gentle, friendly gesture. "After all, what’s a pirate without a few tricks up his sleeve?"

As you both settled into the comfortable silence, the night stretching out ahead of you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for moments like this. Adventures with Kurt were always full of surprises—whether they were real or imagined.

[maldaptivedreamer]

Green Looks Toxic On You

Part 3

At the quarry, you find a familiar friend, Lexa. When you both get closer, Bjorn interrupts.

content: Not proofread, not entirely accurate to alien universe, maybe ooc characters, drugs/alcohol, enemies to lovers trope, Reader is flirty with a woman

wc: ~2.4k

a/n: Idk bout anyone else but titles and finding "aestheticy" pictures are a fucking struggle. Thanks for reading!

MINORS DNI NSFW 18+

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Golden strings of mismatched lights drape from the rough, jagged walls of the abandoned quarry, casting a warm glow over the makeshift dance floor below. Bodies sway and move in sync with the music. The air is thick and humid, carrying the pungent scent of sweat and alcohol mixed with the earthy aroma of dirt and rocks. The occasional whiff of cigarette smoke adds a tinge of sharp acridity to the already overwhelming aroma.

Your gaze lingers on her again - Lexa's dark locks cascade over her shoulders in wild waves, they grow even more wild as she throws her head back in a throaty laugh. Thick black eyeliner frames her pretty blue eyes.

Pursing your lips with a brief frown, you glance at Bjorn across from you. Seems like you have an unfortunate weakness for blue eyes.

Sinking into the musty couch, your attention returns to Lexa as she laughs with her friends. Taking a small sip of your beer, you lean in closer to Kay's ear. "Hey, I'm gonna go talk to Lex."

She turns to face you, raising an eyebrow in response. Her tone is dry. “Yeah, you two usually do a lot of talking when you’re together.”

Chuckling, you lightly push your shoulder to hers in a nudge. “We talk plenty… But you’re right. I don’t wanna go over there to just talk.”

Navarro must have overheard because she interjects, her brown eyes glinting. Grinning, she teases. "You're not fooling anyone. We all know what talking means when it comes to you and Lexa."

You roll your eyes but can't help the smirk that tugs at your lips. "Jealous, Nav?"

She scoffs, "Please. I've got better things to do than watch you two voyeurs fumble around like horny teenagers."

Ignoring her jab, you stand up, dusting off your pants. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some talking to do."

In your peripheral, you can see his heated gaze and clenched jaw. But you ignore it.

Making your way across the quarry, you weave between dancing bodies. The bass thrums through your chest, matching the racing of your heartbeat as you approach Lexa. She sees you, her eyes locking onto yours and a slow smile spreads across her face.

"Hey there, stranger," she purrs as you sit beside her. "I was wondering when you'd come find me."

You shrug with a grin. “Thought I’d give it some time. You know, let the tension build a little.”

Grinning, she takes a drag of the joint between her fingers and you watch as it meets her lips. Smoky tendrils curl around her as she exhales and you’re reminded of the times you’d felt her lips on your own.

Nudging her, you silently gesture for the joint. A sly smirk forms on her lips. Your eyes darken with desire as she brings it back to her own mouth, inhaling deeply. Holding her breath, she leans in close and ghosts her lips over yours, teasing them with the lingering taste of smoke and her. Your heart races as she nudges you with her nose and grasps your chin, silently commanding you to part your lips.

You obey without hesitation and she exhales the smoke into your mouth, sending tingles down your spine. With dilated pupils and a burning hunger, you both come together in a slow passionate kiss.

With your hands intertwined, you gravitate closer to one other. The music and noise of the quarry fades away as you focus on each other.

Her lips brush against your ear as she whispers, "You're so hot..."

The sound of your laughter echoes as you push her away, her leather-clad shoulder slipping easily from your grip. "Oh shut up," you scoff, unable to contain the smirk that tugs at your lips. "You're one to talk."

A mischievous grin spreads across her face as she gestures over your shoulder. "Pretty boy over there certainly agrees with me," she says, a playful glint in her eyes.

Curious and amused, you follow her gesture, turning your head.

Though he’s far, still sitting with the others, Bjorn’s scowl is unmistakable. His body is rigid and he’s seething; the animosity, no doubt, directed towards you.

He moved. Must’ve taken your seat when you left.

Exhaling loudly through your nose, you roll your eyes and turn back to face her. Despite the tension that thickened the air between you and Bjorn, you choose to ignore it. You’ve been ignoring him for the past week, not caring to address his stares or his harsh muttering.

Your voice is terse and tight with anger, “Well, pretty boy can go fuck himself.”

Lexa grins as she takes another drag from the joint, her blue eyes bordered by red. Her playful tone cuts through the tension, “What’d he do now? Don’t get me wrong babe, I know he’s been a fucking asshole to you, but you’ve never avoided him like this. Well… not since you broke up.”

You scoff and briefly glance at him again. “We were never together.”

Lexa smirks and offers you the joint, “Mhm.”

Taking a drag, you sigh deeply. Smoke drifts from your lips as you talk, “All we did was flirt, we were friends. Now… we’re not? I don’t know. I dunno what the hell made him hate me so much, but...” Your voice trails off as you shake your head in frustration and take another hit from the joint.

Shrugging your shoulders, you try to shake off any thoughts about him. Thoughts that you refuse to address. Thoughts that have been weighing on your mind for a while.

"Enough about him.” Your voice is firm and slightly uncomfortable.

Taking a deep inhale from the joint, you immediately start coughing and sputtering. Lex chuckles as she takes it from you and takes her own hit. Through your coughs, you manage to say, "Alright, finish it so we can go dance."

Standing up, you pull her by the hand and glance back to see plumes of smoke escaping from her slightly parted lips. Navigating through swaying people, you guide her into the crowd.

The envious eyes that follow you go unnoticed.

You grasp her collar tightly and pull her towards you, savoring the rough texture of her worn leather jacket against your fingertips. Sliding a hand under her shirt, you rest your palm on the small of her back and nuzzle your nose into her warm skin.

Lexa's breath catches in her throat as she holds onto your hips, bringing one knee between your legs to draw you closer.

As she leans down for a quick kiss, you pay no attention to the stares from those around you, lost in the moment with Lexa. A soft moan escapes your lips as she trails kisses along your neck. You lightly run your nails over her scalp before being abruptly pulled away.

“What the fuck?!”, your angry voice causes a few glances, but they’re too drunk or high to care. You can't see his face, but the familiar dice tattoo on the back of his hand is a dead giveaway.

Fighting against the pull of him, Bjorn’s angry face comes into view. "Can we talk?" he demands.

Frowning, you look at Lexa with her swollen pink lips and let out a frustrated whine. “Now?”

His frown intensifies as he grits out, “Yes, now.”

Rolling your neck, you groan and shove his hand off. You feel Bjorn tense behind you as you move to her and lean into her ear, “I’m sorry, but I’m gonna go talk to him.”

Giving him a smirk, she gives your lips a light peck and loudly responds, “Sure, I'll be here when you're done.” Leaning in, she whispers in your ear with a grin, still staring over your shoulder. “Not together my ass. Make him beg babe.”

You give her a skeptical look before reluctantly laughing and some of your anger subsides. Stepping away from her, you catch the hateful look on Bjorn's face intensifying before he turns away.

The pulsing music fades, becoming a distant hum, as you follow Bjorn away from the crowd. He leads you to a secluded area near the quarry's edge. The cool night air hits your flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heat of bodies pressed together moments ago.

He stops abruptly and turns to face you, his blue eyes darkened with anger. For a moment, neither of you speak, the tension between you thick. The moonlight casts long shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his face and the furrow of his brow.

"What do you want, Bjorn?" you finally ask, crossing your arms defensively. The irritation in your voice is palpable.

He runs a hand over his face, a gesture you've seen countless times before when he's frustrated. "Wha' are you doin’?" he asks, his voice low and tight.

You raise an eyebrow and pause, your mind moving slowly as it processes his question. "Dancing? Having fun? Not that it's any of your business."

Bjorn scoffs and nods mockingly, scratching under his chin. “Right, alrigh'…” Releasing a large breath, he faces you. "Listen, 'm sorry I was an asshole," he declares. "‘M sorry I said that you were selfish and 'm sorry I hurt you."

Examining his face, you can see the genuine regret etched into his features. Pursing your lips thoughtfully, you speak skeptically, "You called me a shit friend too," you remind him. "You've consistently been an asshole. Why apologize now?" The sound of your own voice surprises you with its coolness, betraying none of the emotions swirling inside of you.

“‘M apologizin’ cause you’d been avoiding everyone this past week cause of wha’ I did. An’ cause I realized tha’ I hurt you.”

You nod and shrug, “I didn’t avoid them, I avoided you. I still hung out with them, just not while you were there. I spent time with them because I’m not a shit friend.”

Covering his mouth with his hand, Bjorn scoffs under his breath.

Narrowing your eyes, your voice is sharp with sarcasm, “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? You were in the middle of apologizing right? Orrrrr, am I being fucked with?”

Bjorn pauses and angrily smacks his lips together, “’M sorry I was an asshole and tha' I called you selfish.”

You wait for more, silently raising your brows and wave your hand in a motion for him to continue. Bjorn simply stares at you with a glare.

Scoffing, you throw your head back and look at the sky for a brief moment. Looking for patience or strength, you’re not sure.

Facing him, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth and put your hands on your hips. Nodding with a pursed frown, your voice is curt, “Alright , got it. Apology not accepted and don’t interrupt me for your bullshit again.”

Pushing past him, you move to leave but he catches your arm.

"Wait," Bjorn says, his grip firm but not painful. "‘M not done."

You turn back to face him, frustration evident in your features. "What else could you possibly have to say?"

He takes a deep breath, his blue eyes searching yours. "I do no’ like you hangin’ round with her."

The admission hangs in the air between you, heavy with implications. You blink, caught off guard.

"You what?" you say, disbelief coloring your tone. "Are you trying to tell me to stay away from Lexa?"

Bjorn's jaw clenches, and you can see the internal struggle playing out on his face. "She’s… she’s not good… for you," he finally says, his voice low. In shock, you don’t respond.

Your cackles of disbelief finally break the silence between you, but it adds to the tension. You gasp out, a shocked smile on your face, “I cannot fucking believe that you stopped me for this shit. Are you fucking kidding me?”

Letting loose a giggle, you wipe a tear. Bjorn is practically grinding his teeth together as his pale face flushes, in both embarrassment and anger.

You speak through a smile, “That’s gotta be the funniest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said babe. I mean, c’mon now… The fucking audacity and disillusioned confidence you have to have to say that…”

Humming, your voice is condescending, “Bjorn, I want you look me in the eyes when I say this sweetheart…” Tilting your head, his blue eyes are locked with yours, “You… do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do. Nobody but me can do that.”

Releasing a breath of astonished laughter, you continue, “Excuse me, is allowed to do that.”

Giving him a glare, you turn to walk home. You manage to make it a few feet from the quarry entrance before you hear rushed, angry footsteps behind you. “Where’re you goin’?”

Sighing through your nose. Your voice is terse. “Home. You ruined the fun I was having, so I’m leaving. Happy?”

You spin on your heel to leave, but Bjorn's rough grasp catches your arm once again. Jerking your arm out of his grasp, you whip around to face him with fire in your eyes as you hiss out, “Stop fucking doing that!”

He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, but still follows closely behind you.

He scoffs, taking note of your tense posture and clenched fists. “Do you really not have anything to say? No apologies for the shit you’ve said to me?”

Not pausing, you quicken your strides. “The only thing I’m sorry for is not fucking ignoring you to get fucked by Lex.”

Bjorn's voice is choked with emotion and it makes you falter in your steps, but you refuse to stop. “What about the shit you’ve done? Or not done?”

You remain silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Bjorn's shuffling feet come to a halt behind you. “Was any of it ever real? Did you ever care? Or were you always a fake backstabbing bitch.” His words hang in the air, heavy with accusation and pain.

Whipping around, you rush to him, voice incredulous. “What the fuck does-”

A loud alarm interrupts you. Chests heaving in anger, you both observe the flashing siren pole. An automated voice plays over the blaring siren. Severe rain approaching. Seek shelter immediately.

Groaning, you pull at your hair in frustration.

The ominous clouds loom on the horizon, casting a foreboding shadow over the already dark and dreary sky. As you take in your surroundings, you realize how far you've walked in your frustrated state.

You let out a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you recognize familiar landmarks. Unconsciously, you reach for his hand. It's warm and engulfs your own.

Determination sets in as you tightly clasp his hand. He follows behind you wordlessly. "I know a shelter not too far from here," you announce, your voice steady despite the storm that rages within both your heart and the sky above.

[inkmonster21]

Hearts Across the Divide

16.) Trapped

Noa x Fem!Human!Reader

Series Masterlist

~oOo~

Noa pulls and prying at the metal bars. His hand is blistering, and his arms are weak, but he doesn’t stop. His groans of exhaustion and desperation ring through the camp.

Loui speaks up, his voice filled with a despairing tone. "We're not getting out of here," he declares, the reality of their predicament settling in. The finality of his words hangs heavily in the air, casting a shadow over the small group. The realization that they're trapped – no hope, no escape – hits hard, a sense of helplessness washing over everyone in the cage.

Noa's voice cuts through the despair, a spark of determination flaring within him. "Yes, we are," he counters firmly. There's an ironclad resolve in his tone, a refusal to accept defeat. Despite the dire circumstances, Noa clings to an unwavering belief that they will find a way out.

Loui responds with a cynical chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "No wonder she gave everything away for you," he remarks sarcastically. There's a hint of bitterness in his voice, a thinly veiled jab at Noa's devotion. The implication hangs heavy in the air, stirring up tensions within the group.

Noa turns towards Loui, his expression hardening into a scowl. The sarcasm does not escape him, and it only serves to stoke the flame of his anger. Noa's eyes narrow, the tension between the two chimps growing more pronounced with each passing moment.

Loui's voice fills with sarcastic bitterness as he continues to taunt. "Always dreaming… always with her nose in a book… here you are… playing the hero… trying to save her. A perfect match… aren’t you?" Loui's words are laced with resentment, the barb cutting deep into Noa's heart. The group is on edge, the tension palpable.

Noa's face contorts with anger, the hurt from Loui's words stinging deep. He struggles to keep his voice steady as he responds, "You don't know… what you are talking about!"

Loui shoots back, his voice laced with anger and blame. "This is all her fault! Both of you... should have known better!" The accusation in his tone is clear, his frustration overflowing.

Noa's anger flares, his patience reaching its limit. "Don't DARE blame her!" he snaps, his voice rising in volume.

Noa's eyes flare, his temper flaring further as Loui challenges him. "Or what, Noa?" The words hang heavy in the air, a gauntlet thrown down. Noa's muscles tense, his fists clenching as he glares back at Loui. The silence in the cage is thick with anticipation, as the two simians stand off, their conflict reaching a breaking point.

Noa can no longer contain his anger and lunges towards Loui. With a powerful charge, he rams into Loui, knocking him off balance and sending both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The other chimps in the cage watching in shocked silence, the brawl happening so suddenly.

The two chimpanzees struggle on the ground, their bodies writhing as they try to gain the upper hand in their heated fight. Noa's anger has boiled over, fueling his struggle against Loui.

A sudden shock of cold water hits Noa and Loui, drenching them and breaking up their struggle. Noa gasps as the cold water washes over him, the fight between him and Loui suddenly coming to a halt. Both chimps splutter, taken off guard by the unexpected and sudden shower.

A human stands outside the cage, holding an empty bucket. His tone is firm and authoritative as he barks out, "Quit the damn fighting." The unexpected intervention and cold water seem to have quelled the tension, at least for the moment.

Sunrise breaks in the camp, its warm rays illuminating the area with a soft, golden light. You exit your tent, your fatigue is evident in your movements, but a sense of curiosity gnawing at you.

Your mind is troubled, still reeling from the events of the night before. The memory of the kiss from the ape lingers in your thoughts. You can't shake the feeling of its unexpected intensity, leaving you conflicted and dazed.

As you move through the camp, going through your usual tasks, your eyes fall upon the six apes in the cage. A pang of sympathy and concern washes over you as you observe the captured chimpanzees. The sight of their confinement is a stark reminder of the situation you find yourself in.

You meet the gaze of the ape, his eyes holding yours. A jolt of recognition and realization floods through you, the memory of his unexpected kiss still fresh in your mind. His eyes hold a warm intensity, sending a shiver down your spine. The tingle of excitement mixes with the lingering doubt within you.

The ape's gaze locks with yours, the connection between you undeniable. The memory of the kiss resurfaces, sending a shiver down your spine. Yet doubt lingers, adding a sense of unease to your swirling emotions. You try to shake it off, resuming your tasks in the camp, but the chimp's intense look follows you, leaving you increasingly conflicted.

Jack approaches you, drawing your attention away from the chimp in the cage. His presence momentarily distracts you from the ape's intense gaze.

Jack addresses you, his voice cutting through your thoughts. "Hey, you want to head out soon?" His question snaps you out of your current stupor. You gather your thoughts and answer, “Yeah, sure.”

You remember your previous agreement to patrol the camp with Jack today. Proximus suggested that exploring familiar places might help jog your memory and possibly cure your amnesia. This seems logical given that places can hold strong connections to specific memories.

You stay behind Jack as you walk beside him, your footsteps crunching on the ground below. Your mind drifts to the chimp in the cage, the feeling of his gaze on you intense and impossible to shake. Despite your efforts to focus on the task at hand, something about the chimp's unwavering stare keeps drawing your attention.

Noa watches silently as you follow Jack, a mix of emotions within him. His gaze follows your every step, his eyes locked on you until you disappear from view. The sight of you leaving with Jack, the human male, fills him with a conflicted mixture of worry and regret.

Noa experiences a tangle of emotions as he watches you walk away with Jack. Frustration, insecurity, and regret intermingle within him. He is unable to shake the feeling of powerlessness and a deep ache of longing. Noa wishes he could join you, protect you, and be by your side. But instead, he remains trapped, his gaze filled with a mixture of anger, helplessness, and heartache.

Proximus approaches the cage where the six apes are held captive. His presence casts a shadow over the group, their eyes following his movements with a mix of hostility and resignation.

Soona and Keli remain under Anaya's protective embrace, while Teko and Loui stand in front of the group with defiance. Noa, a fierce determination in his gaze, steps closer to the bars, his intense eyes fixed on Proximus.

Proximus motions to a male, the same one who had drenched them in water before, indicating to the seed-filled bucket. Rudy opens the cage gate just long enough to spill the seeds inside. Proximus smirks, his voice mocking as he addresses Noa, "I am... a generous king." The mocking tone grates on Noa's nerves, his eyes flash at the insult.

Noa meets Proximus's gaze with a steely glare, his voice filled with a dangerous edge. "You will be... a dead king." The words hang in the air, a promise and a warning, as Noa's eyes burn with determination and defiance.

Proximus responds to Noa's threat with a booming laugh, the sound echoing through the camp. The laughter only seems to stoke Noa's anger further, his rage and frustration feeding off the mocking response.

Noa's reaction is swift and impulsive, seizing Proximus by the head and forcefully ramming him into the bars of the cage. The impact is forceful and loud, eliciting a gasp from some nearby humans and apes alike. Noa's adrenaline and fury drive his actions, his emotions getting the best of him in this heated moment.

The unexpected attack leaves Proximus reeling, blood trickling from a cut above his brow. He staggers back, taken off guard by Noa's sudden display of violence. The humans nearby scramble, their shock giving way to a mixture of disbelief and alarm.

Despite the pain and surprise from Noa's attack, Proximus musters a menacing chuckle. His voice holds a chilling certainty as he asserts, "You... will learn, Noa." The threat behind his words is ominous, a promise of further consequences for Noa's defiance.

Proximus gives a cold order, his voice low and dangerous. "Trank him." The command hangs in the air, leaving no room for doubt or disobedience.

Rudy lifts his tranquilizer gun, his aim steady as he fires the dart straight through the bars of the cage. The tranquilizer dart pierces Noa's arm, delivering the sedative into his system in an instant.

The effects of the tranquilizer dart take immediate hold, causing Noa to sway on his feet. He stumbles backward, his body growing heavy and sluggish as the tranquilizer begins to take effect. He attempts to stay upright, but the drug is too powerful, and he succumbs to the sedative.

Proximus turns his gaze on the other apes in the cage, his smirk widening as he addresses them. "See what happens?" The message is clear: disobedience and rebellion will not be tolerated. The tone is both a warning and a show of dominance, as Proximus revels in the moment of triumph over Noa's defiance.

The other apes remain silent, their eyes fixed on Proximus with a mix of fear and resentment. They are too intimidated to challenge him, well aware of the consequences that would likely follow.

Proximus turns to his left, motioning for two apes from his loyal following to step forward. His voice is commanding as he issues the order. "Take this one... lock him up alone." The apes obey without question, moving swiftly to Noa's fallen form and lifting him off the ground.

You continue your patrol through the woods alongside Jack, your footsteps crunching on the forest floor. The surroundings feel foreign and unfamiliar, the woods failing to spark any sense of recognition for you. You navigate the dense foliage in silence, the quiet broken only by the occasional tweet of a nearby bird or the rustle of leaves underfoot.

Your mind drifts to the moment of the unexpected kiss, the memory replaying in your mind. It is the only thing that seems familiar, a fleeting yet powerful sensation that beckons to the locked recesses of your memory. You struggle to make sense of this strange feeling, wondering why this one encounter feels so significant when everything else seems like a blurry haze.

Jack breaks the silence, his voice cutting through your thoughts. "Are you feeling better today?" His question catches you off guard, causing you to snap back to reality. You ponder his question for a moment, considering how to respond.

Your response is honest. "I..." you begin, but the words trail off as you consider your situation. "Not really," you finally admit, your tone reflecting the truth of your circumstance. Nothing had improved, and if anything, things seemed to have grown more complicated and distressing.

Jack nods understandingly, his expression sympathetic. He knows your memory loss is a difficult obstacle to contend with. "I’m sorry to hear that," he replies, his voice gentle yet filled with concern.

Jack tenderly picks a flower from the ground, the petals soft and delicate. He hands it to you with a gentle smile, the gesture small yet significant. "Here," he says, his voice softer than usual. You accept the flower, your fingers gently wrapping around the stem. The touch of the petals is light and delicate, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the world around you. "Thank you," you say quietly, touched by the simple yet thoughtful gesture.

The next stop on your patrol route leads you to a beautiful lake. The water is still, the surface reflecting the surrounding trees like a mirror. The sight is serene, a small oasis of tranquility in the otherwise chaotic world.

You gaze at the water of the lake, a pang of desire within you. It has been a long since you had a proper bath, and the idea of washing away the accumulated dirt and sweat is quite appealing.

Jack's voice interrupts your thoughts, a small smile on his face. "You want to go in?" He gestures towards the lake as if reading your mind. The suggestion is tempting, a chance to cool off and freshen up. You respond with a nod and a smile. The idea of bathing in the cool waters of the lake is too enticing to resist. Jack notices your eagerness and chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction.

Jack swiftly peels off his shirt, followed by his pants, revealing his bare upper torso. Your eyes widen in surprise at the unexpected sight, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Quickly, you turn away, your heart beating faster in your chest. It takes a moment for you to regain your composure.

Jack's chuckle breaks the tense moment, his voice light and playful. "Come on, now. It's nothing you haven't seen before," he teases, a sly grin on his face. Your cheeks feel hot with embarrassment, but his carefree attitude helps dispel some of the awkwardness.

Your mind ponders his statement, trying to discern the truth in his words. Have you seen a man bare-chested before? The memory dances just out of reach, a frustratingly elusive fragment of your past. The image is distasteful.

You tentatively dip your toes into the water of the lake, the warmth enveloping your skin. The sensation is soothing, a welcome contrast to the hot and humid days of late summer. The sun is still bright in the sky, but the end of the season is evident, a subtle coolness in the air signaling the approach of autumn.

You take a step further into the water, the cool liquid licking at your ankles and then your legs. The sensation is refreshing, a small sigh escaping your lips as the water soaks into your dress, causing the fabric to cling to your body.

You fully submerge your upper body in the water, letting the liquid envelop you. You take this opportunity to wash your hair and scrub your skin, relishing the chance to feel clean once again. The water gently laps at your skin, cleaning away the dirt and grime of the past several days.

Jack stands nearby, a small smile playing on his lips as he watches you bathe in the lake. His gaze is warm and amused, his eyes drinking in the sight of you in the water. The situation feels oddly intimate, the proximity of his gaze sending a flutter of emotions through you.

Jack moves through the water, approaching you with leisurely strokes. His body cuts through the water with ease, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing with each movement. As he nears you, the water laps at your sides, the movement causing small ripples to spread out in all directions.

Jack stops a few feet away from you, his smile widening as he takes in the sight of you in the water. The distance between you feels charged with a sense of intimacy and vulnerability. His eyes roam over your water-soaked dress, the fabric clinging to your frame, emphasizing your curves.

“You look…” Jack trails off, his voice low and rough. His eyes continue to roam over you, taking in the sight of your wet hair and clinging dress. The expression on his face is a mix of admiration and desire, his usual casual demeanor replaced by something more intense. “Beautiful,” he finally finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. The word hangs in the air, a simple yet powerful declaration. The way he looks at you, the longing in his eyes, betrays his true feelings.

You feel a mix of emotions stir within you at his words. A flutter of pleasure at the compliment tinged with a hint of embarrassment and uncertainty. The situation seems to have shifted from a moment of playful banter to something more serious, more real. The weight of Jack's gaze and the vulnerability of your situation in the water create a strange and intoxicating mix.

A sense of wrongness settles over you as you grapple with the emotions swirling within. The pleasure at Jack's compliment is tainted by a sense of guilt and discomfort. Your heart burns with uncertainty and something else, a feeling that this moment, as intimate and charged as it is, doesn't feel entirely right. Your head shakes involuntarily as if trying to deny or reject the conflicting feelings inside.

Jack reaches out, his hand moving through the water to gently take hold of yours. The touch is gentle yet firm, a silent plea for connection. His fingers wrap around yours, his palm feeling warm and rough against your skin. Jack's grip tightens slightly as he pulls you closer, closing the distance between your bodies. The water laps around you both, the ripples created by your combined movement a subtle reminder of the situation you find yourselves in. His gaze remains fixed on you, searching for any sign of reciprocation or rejection.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand moves down instinctively, tracing a path along the smooth expanse of Jack's bare chest. The sensation of his warm, wet skin under your fingertips sends a jolt through you, mixing with the strange mixture of emotions already coursing through your mind. You can feel the hard plane of his muscles, the strength, and power just beneath the surface.

Jack's skin responds to your touch, his body tensing slightly in response. His breath hitches, the sound barely perceptible above the gentle lapping of the water around you. He remains still, allowing you to explore the planes and contours of his chest, almost as if he's holding his breath.

Jack leans down, closing the distance between you, his head moving towards yours with deliberate slowness. The anticipation hangs in the air, suspended like the ripples on the water's surface. His eyes hold yours for a moment longer, a mixture of hesitation and longing, before he finally cups your chin and captures your lips in a tender, tentative kiss.

The kiss is soft and gentle, a cautious exploration of the connection between you. Jack's lips move against yours carefully, his fingers caressing your skin as if you were a precious and fragile thing. The sensation is both familiar and unfamiliar, stirring feelings and memories that are just beyond your reach.

You grapple with the unfamiliar feeling and fragments of memories that float just out of reach. The touch of Jack's lips, the gentle caress of his fingers, trigger something within you, a sense of familiarity and a hint of familiarity. But as hard as you search your mind, the source of these feelings remains elusive, just beyond the grasp of your conscious thought.

You slowly pull away from the kiss, your words breaking the moment of intimacy and connection. "We should get back soon," you say quietly, a note of finality in your voice. Jack's expression falters for a moment at your words, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he turns his face into a neutral mask.

Jack nods in agreement, silently acknowledging your suggestion to return. You wring out the water from your soaked dress, the fabric clinging even more tightly to your body as a result. Jack quickly dresses himself, his movements swift and efficient, covering up the expanse of his bare torso once more.

You and Jack continue the rest of the patrol in a heavy silence. The once-comfortable atmosphere is now tainted by an awkward tension that hangs in the air like a thick fog. The distance between you feels both immense and stifling at the same time, the unspoken words and emotions weighing heavily on both of your minds.

The cold air seems to cut through the fabric of your damp dress, and you let out a small shiver, your body reacting to the temperature change. Jack notices the motion, his gaze flickering over your shivering frame with a frown.

Jack notices your shiver and immediately wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him in a gesture of warmth and comfort. "We've got some extra pants and shirts from a whole bag of women's clothes," he says, referring to the cache of clothes his camp had found. The thought of a change of dry clothes is comforting, especially as you feel the chill seep into your bones.

You respond with a grateful nod, expressing your agreement. The thought of changing into dry, warm clothes is appealing, a welcome relief from the damp and cold of your current attire.

Jack guides you towards the camp, his arm still around your shoulders in a protective manner, shielding you from the worst of the chill.

As you pass through the camp, your attention is caught by a small cage tucked away in the corner. Within, you see an ape, his face contorted in a scowl, staring fixedly at the ground. The sight is disconcerting and pitiful, the animal's discontentment evident in his demeanor.

As you follow Jack into a nearby tent, you are unaware of the intense emotions that the caged ape is experiencing. Noa looks up as you pass by, his eyes tracking your every movement. The anger and jealousy that churn within his chest are palpable, a stark contrast to the calm and collected demeanor he typically strives to maintain.

As you exit the tent, fresh and clean in your new clothes, Noa's eyes remain fixated on you. His body tenses as he takes in the sight of you, clothed in new human garments. The thought of another male witnessing your unclothed form fuels the anger and jealousy that already burn within him. Noa's mind begins to race with thoughts of violence and retribution, his primal instincts taking over.

You smile warmly at Jack, gratitude clear in your expression. "I'll see you at dinner,” you say, bidding him farewell for the moment. Jack returns your smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he nods and turns away, heading back toward his tent.

As Jack moves to enter his tent, he is stopped by Noa's voice from the nearby cage. Noa's guttural voice cuts through the air, a possessive and primal claim. "She is... mine," he growls, the words spoken with a mixture of anger and certainty.

Jack pauses, turning to face the ape. His expression remains neutral, betraying no hint of surprise or intimidation. "That so?" he replies coolly, his calm facade belied by the slight tensing of his muscles.

Noa's voice drops to a dangerous growl, his eyes narrowing in a fierce glare. "Yes... and if you take what is mine... I will rip your throat out," he threatens, the warning clear in his tone. Jack holds his ground, refusing to show any fear or weakness in the face of Noa's aggression.

Jack remains undeterred, his expression cool and composed. His response is almost casually mocking. "Pretty big threat for some monkey who's in a cage," he retorts, raising an eyebrow at the caged ape.

Noa’s furious roar fills the air, the sound a guttural, primal display of anger and frustration. He pounds against the sides of the cage, the metal bars creaking under the force of his blows. Jack watches Noa's display with a mix of fascination and caution. He remains standing just a few feet away from the cage, his neutral expression giving no hint of his thoughts. Noa's rage and ferocity are almost palpable, the raw power and emotion almost feral in nature.

Despite the intimidating and potentially dangerous situation, Jack remains unflinching, standing his ground with a cool demeanor. "Quite the temper you've got there," he remarks dryly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. As Jack starts to walk away, his words hang in the air, a taunting taunt. "Might send Rudy over here with another bucket," he says with a smirk. Jack's laughter only seems to enrage Noa further, the ape thrashing against the bars of the cage with renewed ferocity.

Noa’s roar echoes loudly through the camp, the fierce cry of a territorial ape who feels his claim challenged. "MINE!" he growls, the words a primal declaration of ownership and possession.

Jack remains unruffled, continuing to calmly walk away from the cage. The ape's possessive claims and threats have little effect on him, his cool demeanor a stark contrast to Noa's feral rage.

Loui, Teko, Anaya, Soona, and Keli sit quietly in their respective cage, their attention focused on Noa's furious display. They watch the ape with a mixture of fascination, concern, and perhaps a hint of sympathy.

The apes in the cage are disheartened and desperate, their spirits broken by their powerlessness. They sit quietly, contemplating their predicament. Without weapons or any means to fight back, they feel utterly defenseless against their human captors.

As the ape carrying the food enters the cage, the animals within look up eagerly. However, their hope is quickly dashed as the ape quickly sets the food down and hastily moves to leave. The other apes in the camp offer no assistance or sympathy, their fear and helplessness keeping them from interfering.

You approach the large bonfire crackling in the center of the camp, the flames casting a warm glow over the area. You see a group of ape women preparing the evening meal, their hands moving skillfully over the food as they chop and season. They greet you with smiles and nods, happy to have the extra help.

As you work beside the ape women, preparing the meal, your thoughts keep returning to the lone ape in the cage. The image of him, so isolated and desperate, resonates with you on some level, stirring feelings of sympathy and guilt. Despite the camaraderie of the apes around you, you can’t help but feel a twinge of longing and curiosity about the solitary ape.

You share a meal with the humans and apes in the camp, and the atmosphere comfortable and friendly. Despite the kindness and inclusiveness of the community, you can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. Something or someone is missing, a vital piece to the puzzle that leaves you with an odd sense of emptiness.

A woman in the camp suddenly interrupts the conversation, excitedly announcing that she found something. “Look what I found!” She produces an old, dusty record, placing it on the player as it begins to spin. The soft scratch of the needle against the vinyl is followed by music beginning to fill the air, old, forgotten melodies coming back to life.

The music, though old and slightly worn by time, brings a feeling of nostalgia to the camp. Some of the apes sit quietly, their eyes closed as they listen, while others begin to sway or move to the rhythm. It is a moment of shared joy and reminiscing, a brief respite from the darker realities of the camp.

A large hand of Proximus appears in your line of sight, extended toward you in invitation. His eyes, dark and intense, are fixed on you, a glimmer of mischief in their depths. His voice, deep and commanding, utters a simple request. "Dance... with me."

The sudden request surprises you, the command-like quality of his voice causing your heart to flutter in your chest. You glance around, noticing the curious gazes of the others before your eyes settle back on Proximus. The combination of his imposing presence and the silent challenge in his gaze makes it difficult to decline.

Your hand meets his, the feeling of his large, rough palm against your own. Proximus smirks, his gaze darting towards the darkened corner of the camp, where the cage housing the solitary ape is located. The motion is subtle, a sly glance meant only for his prisoner.

Proximus pulls you through various moves and spins, his strong arms guiding you expertly as you both move to the beat of the music. As you dance, a feeling of familiarity washes over you. The song, while old and dusty, triggers something within you, a sense of recognition that you can't quite place.

As the song comes to an end, you find yourself panting and slightly breathless, still caught up in the dance and the wave of emotions and memories that it stirred within you. You stand, momentarily disoriented, the echoes of the music still ringing in your ears while your mind tries to make sense of the conflicting and confusing images racing through your head.

Your eyes drift towards the large cage, your heart heavy with a sense of guilt and responsibility. You wonder if the apes imprisoned there have been fed, if they are well and safe. The thought of them, cramped and helpless, weighs on your consciousness, a nagging reminder of the harsh realities of the situation.

You gather up some berries, nuts, and scraps of meat from the supper leftovers, carefully wrapping them up and stuffing them in the pocket of your pants. You're determined to do what you can to make sure the apes in the cage are fed and cared for, even in this small way.

With the camp settling down for the night, you quietly slip out of your tent and head towards the large cage where the apes are being held. As you approach, Keli is the first to notice your presence, her dark eyes peering out at you through the bars.

"Hi," you reply, your voice soft and tinged with sadness. You approach the bars of the cage, your eyes meeting Keli's gaze with a mixture of pity and concern. "Have they fed you?" you repeat, unable to bear the thought of them going hungry and cold.

Keli nods in response to your question, her eyes reflecting a hint of resignation. "We were given a small offering of seeds," she tells you, her voice quiet but clear. "We are fine," she adds, though the words seem more like a dutiful response than a genuine assurance.

Keli turns to glance behind her, her eyes falling on the other apes inside the cage. Her expression softens slightly as she looks at them, a mixture of protectiveness and worry on her face.

Keli turns back to you, her dark eyes searching your face. Your question hangs in the air, the weight of it heavy. She seems to contemplate her answer for a moment, her gaze lowering as she focuses on the floor of the cage. Finally, she looks up, her expression serious.

"Do you remember any of us?" she repeats your question, her words a mix of vulnerability and curiosity.

Your furrowed brow betrays your confusion and frustration. Keli's question has brought back the now-familiar sense of amnesia. Shaking your head, you express your inability to recall anything, the frustration and helplessness evident in your expression.

Keli sighs as she looks at you, her eyes now distant with memory. Her voice is soft as she tells you, "We grew up together, far from here." The words carry a weight of nostalgia and longing, a hint of the bond that had previously tied you together.

Your words trail off as a wave of confusion washes over you. The contradiction between what Keli is saying and your reality feels overwhelming. "I live here… At least I thought I did..." you murmur, the uncertainty clear in your voice as you grapple with the conflicting pieces of information.

Loui lets out an exasperated sigh from the back of the cage. "It's no use, Keli," he says, his words tinged with resignation. There is a hint of irritation in his tone as if he's had this conversation before and knows the futile nature of it. The words hit you like a dagger, the bitter truth of them seeping into your chest. You feel a pang of hurt and humiliation, the directness of Loui's glare only emphasizing the message he's trying to deliver. "She's gone," Loui repeats, the finality of his statement hanging in the air.

The bluntness of Loui's statement hits you hard, stirring up a mix of emotions within you. You huff in frustration, your irritation at the situation becoming more evident. Without another word, you turn on your heel and start to walk away, leaving the cage and its inhabitants behind.

As you approach your tent, the tears begin to fall, the emotions you've been holding in finally breaking through. The weight of your confusion and frustration is like a physical force upon you, causing the tears to roll down your cheeks in a silent, steady stream.

Noa, trapped in his cage, watches you as you walk back to your tent, his keen eyes picking up the sight of the tears on your cheeks. He feels a pang of sympathy in his chest, his heart clenching at the sight of your distress. He wants to call out to you, to comfort you, but the bars of his cage keep him from doing so.

Noa's voice breaks the silence, his question soft and quiet but still reaching your ears. "Are you hurt?" he asks, a hint of concern in his deep rumble of a voice. You are surprised that you heard him, so you turn in his direction, your tear-streaked face catching his gaze.

As you face Noa's cage, you take in the sight of him, his large frame constricted within the small space. The sight of his cramped surroundings only adds to your sense of sorrow, the unfairness of his predicament is clear to see.

You approach the large cage, the sight of Noa captured within it causing a pang of sadness to rise in your chest. You kneel, bringing yourself closer to him, your eyes meeting his through the bars.

You study Noa intently, taking in every detail of his appearance. His powerful frame is contrasted by a certain gentleness in his dark eyes. As you study him, you realize that looking at him and listening to his voice, brings a strange sort of comfort to your mind, a brief respite from the whirlwind of confusion that usually clouds your thoughts.

“You… you’re the one that… kissed me,” you state to Noa. Noa's eyes widen slightly at your words, the memory of the kiss coming back to him instantly. He looks at you, the surprise mixing with a hint of guilt.

"Yes...." He replies, his voice quiet but honest. “Why?”

Noa looks back at you, catching the edge of your gaze. He understands the question behind your simple "why," and the demand for an explanation. "Why did I kiss you?" He finally questions, his eyes never leaving yours.

Noa takes a moment to collect himself, his eyes dropping to the floor of the cage before they rise to meet yours once more.

"I kissed you... because I could not help myself." He admits, his voice low and sincere, the honesty in his words clear and unguarded.

Noa's admission hangs in the air between you for a moment, the raw honesty of it causing a small shiver to run through you. He holds your gaze, his dark eyes locking with yours as he continues, his words soft but direct.

"I kissed you... because I wanted to. Because I couldn't deny the... pull I felt towards you."

Noa begs you silently.

Remember me. Remember me. Remember me, please.

As you look into Noa's eyes, you feel it. A strange, magnetic pull that seems to draw you closer to him, a deep, primal desire to reach out and touch his skin, to feel the heat of his body under your fingertips. Your breath hitches in your chest, the feeling powerful and overwhelming.

You reach into your pocket, pulling out the small bundle of food you had set aside for them, the offering of scraps and berries that the others had neglected. You hold it up to show Noa, the realization that they had not fed them filling you with a pang of anger and sympathy.

"They didn't feed you," you say, the words more of a statement than a question as you hold out the food.

Noa's eyes widen at the sight of the food you hold in your hands, a mixture of surprise and relief on his face as he realizes what you've brought. He moves closer to the bars of the cage, his large hand reaching out through one of the gaps to take the offering from you. His fingers brush against yours, the brief contact sending a jolt of electricity through your skin.

As Noa's hand touches yours, a shiver runs down your spine. The feel of his skin, his warmth, is intoxicating, awakening something within you that you can't quite identify. You watch as he takes the food, his grip gentle yet firm. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice gruff but filled with sincere gratitude.

Noa looks down at the food in his hand for a moment, a small sense of relief washing over him. He then raises his gaze to meet yours again, a hint of a smile on his lips. He looks at you for a moment, the connection between you feeling both intense and tender.

You are jolted out of the moment as a shuffling sound comes from nearby, causing you to straighten up abruptly and scan the darkness warily. You are reminded of the dangers that lurk all around, the constant threat of being discovered looming over you both.

You reluctantly tear yourself away from Noa, the connection between you feeling strangely unfinished yet tinged with danger. You step back, putting some distance between the two of you, and head towards your tent. You slip into the canvas walls, the shelter offering some relief as you settle down, your mind still filled with thoughts of him and the strange feelings he stirs within you.

You sink onto your cot, a dazed grin spreading across your face as you remember the feeling of Noa's touch on your hand. The brief contact has left a lingering heat in your palm, a strange and foreign sensation that you can't seem to shake. You continue to sit there, reliving the moment in your mind, your thoughts consumed by him.

The memories of his eyes, his face, and his touch, replay in your mind as you drift into sleep. His green gaze is the last thing that flickers through your thoughts before you finally surrender to your dreams, your subconscious mind dancing with the image of the ape and the strange pull you feel towards him.

In your dreams, the melody of the song from earlier floats through the air, the sweet and soothing notes taking on a dreamlike quality. You find yourself in a blurry and shifting landscape, the memories and emotions of the day playing out like fragments blending.

In the dreamlike state, the sound of rushing water fills your hearing, the sound both soothing and familiar. The noise seems to echo around you, the gentle sound of the river blending with the melody of the song that still plays in the background of your mind.

You feel a warm, rough hand cup your cheek, the touch shockingly gentle. It contrasts with the hardened feel of the skin, the callouses on the fingers adding a layer of texture to your delicate skin. The touch is familiar and yet slightly foreign, the sensation both soothing and exciting.

As the fingers of the hand caress your cheek, you feel the light, ghost-like touch of lips moving over your own. It is a whisper of a kiss, a soft brush of skin against skin that sends an instant spark of sensation through your body. The touch, while subtle, is electrifying, leaving you feeling strangely vulnerable yet yearning for more at the same time.

In the dream, you find yourself reaching out towards the source of the touch, the primal desire to bridge the gap between you and the one caressing your cheek too strong to resist. Your hand moves without conscious thought, as if by instinct, as you reach towards the presence that kisses you.

Your hands brush against the course fur, your fingers tracing up the broad shoulders to the wide back, your mind begins to clear and the image comes into focus. "Noa." You murmur, the name slipping from your lips in a whisper. His face comes into view, the familiar features of his face making your heart flutter in your chest.

You bolt upright in your cot, your mind racing with questions. How did you know his name? Was it just a strange coincidence that it had come to you in your dream? Or was there something deeper at play, something that you couldn't quite understand? Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you try to make sense of the dream and the feelings it has stirred within you.

[underdark-dreams]

I just binged all your Rolan x Tav fics on here (about to go to A03 and give kudos ❤️) and just wanted to say 😩😩 Perfect! AND! I saw you wanted suggestions! i would love to see the first interact/first meeting of Rolan and Tav from his POV if you felt inclined! No pressure! Thank you, keep up the good work! ❤️

I've grown so fond of this vague fem Tav I keep pairing with Rolan...so I hope these pronouns are ok for this request! Tav gets her name finally. (Cal and Lia also barged their way into this one in a big way)

Blades and Spells

A sanctimonious soldier isn't Rolan's idea of a good person to know, but is seems Tav is doing her damnedest to prove him wrong. The day of their first meeting at the Grove.

Tags: Fem Tav, Fluff, First Meetings, Sibling Bonding

Word Count: 4,322 [Read on AO3]

"We don't even know these people—"

"They're the closest thing we've got to kin, and you know it!"

The bright and promising midday had been punctured by a bloody ambush at the gate. Kanon was dead—a goblin booyagh's arrow and a nasty fall behind the front wall. No doubt his body was still cooling just a short walk from where the three siblings stood inside the shaded mouth of the Grove.

Their caravan's brief respite was shaken by the attack. Zevlor had retreated to strategize; the other Tieflings were on edge, a few downright panicked, the fresh tension around them only fueling the siblings’ words. 

It had been weeks since he and Lia had a proper fight—Rolan felt all the pent-up anger rolling out now.

Lia stood with fists braced on her hips. "And what about the goblins? I know you're handy with a spell, Rolan, but I seriously don't fancy our chances alone on the Risen Road."

"Did you not see what just happened?" Rolan said, casting an arm behind his sister toward the gate. "That treasure-hunting idiot just led them right down on our heads. There’s bound to be more, and I don’t want us sticking around to find out how many."

"That’s all the more reason to stay!” Lia’s voice rose to match his. “These people aren't fighters, Rolan. We’d be cowards to leave. We can protect them—we should—"

“Or keep making a scene,” Cal said from the sidelines, to no one in particular. The other Tieflings had grown used to their bickering many miles ago.

Lia was undeterred. "Is this about your precious Lorroakan? Because I promise you, Rolan, he'll still be there when we finally get to Baldur's Gate."

Rolan's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh of course not, why would I want to achieve my lifelong dream, see my family finally be safe and provided for along the way—"

"Don't put this on me and Cal," his sister warned. "It's all the same excuse, you'd have left these people yesterday—"

"Because they're not my kin!" Rolan practically shouted, not caring how far his voice carried. "No matter how many times you say it! I'm not going to risk all three of our lives, our futures, on people who can't seem to keep themselves alive. How do you think I'd feel if I let anything happen to you? Either of you?"

"We know, Rolan," Cal interjected, trying to bring a little understanding.

"If you care about me and my future—" Lia jabbed a sharp nail at Rolan's chest—"you won't ask me to turn my back on these people when they need our help."

As Rolan opened his mouth to respond, he caught motion in his periphery. He turned to see an unfamiliar face standing at the edge of their conversation. The stranger rested a hand on her sword pommel, looking on quietly curious at the scene.

"Yes?" Rolan snapped at her. Sticking your nose into a private conversation hardly deserved politeness.

“Wait," Cal piped up beside him. “I saw you at the gate after the goblins."

Lia was quick to follow, disagreement all but forgotten. “You fought out there just now?” She sounded practically jealous. “Sweet hells, that must have been a rush. We owe you.”

"Good timing, that’s all," the stranger replied, shifting her weight a little. From real or false modesty Rolan couldn't tell.

He finally recognized her then—the one he saw speaking with Zevlor for quite a while immediately after the attack. Judging by the flecks of wet blood on her equipment, and on that of her companions behind her, these were the surprise reinforcements he'd already heard other refugees chatting about in energetic tones.

They weren't so impressive in person. Scrappy, in Rolan's private judgment. His eyes passed over the pouting cleric, the murderous-looking Githyanki with a massive sword on her back, the elf who was glancing around himself as though trying to decide which element of his current surroundings he disliked most. 

The other wizard looked sane enough, Rolan allowed. He could practically feel the ripples in the Weave all around the man's shoulders. Perhaps Rolan would have a chance at an intelligent conversation in this place after all.

As for the one in front—she smiled pleasantly at Rolan despite having just walked from a goblin ambush. That, to his mind, marked her as the most eccentric of all.

"Tav," she said, extending her sword hand. Rolan glanced down at the dark stains on her fingers.

Wasn't this hovel filthy enough? His clothes already smelled of smoke and grease from days in close quarters; he drew the line at smearing them with goblin blood.

Tav tracked his eyes, letting out an awkward laugh as she moved to wipe her palm on her pants. From beside him, Lia firmly intercepted the handshake.

"Lia. Forgive my brother, you know how wizards are about their robes." His sister's tone was light, but she shot him a look from the corner of her eye. 

As if Rolan cared what some passing stranger thought of him. If he’d had his way, they wouldn't be here to have this conversation at all. But Cal introduced himself as well, looking a bit starstruck.

“Well met,” Tav told them, Rolan included. “Sorry, I know I’m interrupting.”

Perhaps sensing Rolan was about to agree, Lia jumped in. “Please. It’s a pleasure to meet people willing to risk their necks for a bunch of strangers, especially Tieflings. You all heading to Baldur’s Gate?”

“Aye. Same as you, I imagine—”

The inanity was enough to drive Rolan mad; it was like their first days on the road from Elturel all over again. He crossed his arms and zoned out as she and his sister made their meaningless smalltalk. He'd rather get his tail stepped on than do this painful getting-to-know with one more person they’d never see again. 

Then he heard Lorroakan's name, and his ears perked up.

“He’s taken Rolan as an apprentice,” Cal was telling Tav proudly.

"Have you met Archmage Lorroakan?" Rolan asked her, suddenly interested in the conversation again. Tav looked at him with hesitation.

"Not personally. Gale said—" She glanced down the slope deeper into the Grove, and Rolan realized that the companions behind her had all trickled away in the short moment he hadn’t been paying attention. Seeking rest and recuperation, no doubt. "Gale was saying he's heard of him."

The human wizard, Rolan gathered. Hearing a stranger speak the archwizard’s name somehow rekindled the fire in Rolan’s chest, one he hadn’t realized had grown so low on fuel. He clenched his fist beside his robes and felt the crinkle of Lorroakan’s letter there in his pocket.

Tav was regarding him with a quizzical expression. "I mean, if an archmage that famous has an apprenticeship waiting for you…I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to move on sooner than later."

"Naturally," Rolan said, a bit stiff. It annoyed him that this newcomer could see more sense than his own siblings.

Then she continued. "But Lia's right. You three seem like you can handle yourselves, and I'm not sure the same could be said for everyone here. We'll need every fighting soul to defend against that goblin nest. Especially you—" Tav directed the comment to Rolan. "Having another Weave caster could make all the difference."

Well, so much for sense. Speaking of we and us as if they all had the same goals. A transparent tactic. Rolan wasn't sure what altruistic world Tav had waltzed out of, but he'd heard enough rousing speeches on kinship and unity from people like Zevlor to last him a lifetime. He wasn't about to listen to one from a stranger.

She was correct, however, to acknowledge the value of his skills. No one on the road here had displayed anything close to what Rolan knew he was capable of.

He glanced one more time between his siblings. The set of Lia's jaw told him her mind was well made up. Cal just looked hopeful for a resolution.

Rolan swore. "Fine. We've only taken our damn time getting here, what’s a few more days lost? If we’re lucky, we’ll reach the city with a good story, at least."

"Thank you, Rolan." Lia was meek now that she'd gotten her way.

“You must be quite skilled,” added Tav, sizing him up a bit. "To catch the eye of the Archwizard of Baldur's Gate."

Rolan didn’t miss a beat. "I am.” Cal rolled his eyes over Tav’s shoulder, but Rolan ignored him. “I’ve been manipulating the Weave since I was a child.”

“It’s true,” Lia confirmed. Still feeling guilty about winning the fight, perhaps.

“Really?” Tav broke into a grin, clearly impressed. Rolan drank in the admiration. "Good thing you're staying, then."

Behind his pride, Rolan couldn't help but feel a bit manipulated. Perhaps Tav wasn't the unsophisticated sellsword that she’d appeared at first.

"Well, I should go find the crew before they make too much trouble.” Tav was turning to leave before she paused, sheepish. “Say—don’t suppose druids keep a blacksmith around? One of those worgs’ teeth put a big scratch in my baby here.” As she spoke she looked down at the sword belted to her hip, almost like an indulgent parent.

“Dammon can fix you up,” Lia told her at once. “He’s one of us, a Tiefling. And he’s damn good. Take a left down the hill and you can’t miss him. Follow the loud noises,” she added, with a grin to match.

“Cheers,” Tav told her. “See you all later?”

The three of them watched her figure disappear deeper into the Grove. 

"She stabbed a warg right up close,” Lia murmured, sounding morbidly inspired. “That’s incredible.”

Rolan scoffed at her. “Better to kill it from a distance and not damage your most valuable piece of equipment in the process.”

“Hey.” Cal glanced over to his older brother. “Did you even tell her your name?”

Rolan wasn’t concerned. “I’ll tell her later, if she’s still around.” She and her companions would remember his name soon enough—them and all of Baldur's Gate.

—

In these cramped quarters, it didn’t take long before they encountered Tav again. Her hands swung a bit awkwardly at her sides, as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Her scabbard clanked empty against her greaves; presumably, Dammon was hard at work repairing her blade. 

Cal and Lia practically swooped down beside her as she approached. Rolan tried to hide his scowl at their eagerness.

"Have you been around the place yet? Cal and I can show you around, if you’ve got time.”

“I’d like that,” she told them both with a genuine smile. “Perhaps later, if you’re willing? Zevlor told me about your…druid problem. I promised him I’d have a talk with Kagha.”

Who had elected her emissary? Rolan glowered. "I assure you, the druids will tell you it's a foulblood problem."

It wiped the smile from her face, and Rolan found it difficult to feel bad. She wanted to dig through other people's problems? She could get used to uncovering ugly things.

"Yes…well. I'd prefer to keep an open mind," she told him evenly. With another small comment to his brother and sister, she continued on toward the deep clearing where the druids were gathering in preparation for their rite. A place strictly off-limits for Tieflings.

Lia rounded on him. "I swear, you embarrass me worse than Cal sometimes."

Cal frowned. "Hey—"

"Because you care too much about what people think," Rolan answered his sister. "Believe me, she and her people don't care about us. Didn't you hear her little speech before? She only wants more bodies for the fight."

Internally, Rolan was still bristling at the idea that Tav had complimented and cajoled him into staying at the Grove. He didn’t truly believe that was the reason for his decision, but the fact that she’d gotten to him at all unsettled him.

“Come on.” Lia knocked her arm against his playfully, an effort at reconciliation. “I’m just saying, Rolan. It costs nothing to be a bit nicer to people around here.”

Rolan heaved a sigh. Even he was growing weary from all the bickering they’d done today, though he’d never admit that to his sister. “All right. I’ll try, if it makes you happy. But believe me—people like her look after themselves. And I intend to look after us.”

—

Tav hadn’t been in the heart of the Grove for more than ten minutes before she reappeared, practically stomping up the path from the Kagha’s inner sanctum. Apparently the emissary work wasn’t going so well. Without her sword, her hands were clenched at her sides in empty fists. Her expression was thunderous.

“Have you seen Zevlor?” She asked the three of them as she approached, bypassing the smalltalk Rolan was beginning to expect from her. He directed her back toward the carved door in the corner of the cave. 

“Everything all right?” Rolan asked, curious in spite of himself.

Tav exhaled sharp through her nose. “Kagha was having a grand time interrogating a hostage. That little girl, Arabella.”

“What?” Cal’s voice rang with alarm.

“I guess she tried to steal the druids’ carving of Silvanus,” Tav told him. “The one they need for their ceremony. Her mother was nearly out of her mind…the child’s all right,” she added in haste. “Back safe with her parents now, but shaken up.”

Lia quivered with outrage at Rolan’s side. “Thank the hells you intervened.”

“Of course,” Tav replied at once, as if the situation called for nothing less. “I understand it’s the idol of their deity, but by all the gods…Kagha was ready to call her asp down on a terrified child.”

“That fucking viper." 

Cal wasn’t referring to the snake; his siblings both glanced at him in surprise. He was a gentle soul, but if Cal cared about anything, it was protecting the young ones.

Tav seemed of the same mind. “There’s something about her,” she agreed with a dark look. Abruptly, she wheeled on Rolan. “What do you think?”

She sought his opinion as a wizard, he realized. All three of them were watching him, in fact, hanging on for his answer.

“Ritual magic is quite different from the Weave,” Rolan replied carefully. “Especially druidic magic. I don’t have the same feel for it. But Kagha…” 

He cast his mind back to the first day their bedraggled caravan arrived in the Grove. The lot of them exhausted and bloodied after fighting off goblins and gnolls just up the road. Halsin, the massive elf who was then First Druid, squaring his shoulders above the smaller woman who somehow seemed to tower to his same height.

“She’s powerful,” Rolan decided. “Quite. Where it comes from, I couldn’t say.”

Tav was staring at him with an intensity Rolan hadn’t seen on her face yet. She looked far more intimidating than she had to him before. 

But then she let out a thoughtful hum, and her features were back to their usual lightness. “I guess that’s one more reason to find this Halsin sooner rather than later.”

They all watched her take her leave toward Zevlor’s makeshift war room, the stone door sliding shut again behind her.

—

As the sun dipped below the horizon and a stiff evening breeze picked up at the cave’s entrance, Rolan and his siblings settled toward the insulated back wall of the Grove where Okta was tending hearth. Whatever the old woman had simmering in her massive cauldron smelled a bit like damp wool, but the warmth of the coals underneath was toasty and wonderful against the skin on Rolan’s face and hands.

Cal and Lia were in wistful discussion on either side of him—something about which landmarks of the city they wanted to visit first. Rolan let the feel of the conversation wash over him without hearing the words. His eyes were on the glowing coals, but his mind was also on Baldur's Gate—that and its great archwizard. 

You are fortunate, young Rolan. The flourish with which Lorroakan had written his name floated through his mind's eye. Even the parchment itself was heavy and fine, almost promising of better things. Rolan’s fingers brushed the hip pocket of his robes again as if to assure himself. He still carried the letter with him everywhere, though he’d long since memorized its contents.

From behind him Rolan heard the sounds of a friendly disagreement and turned to look. Tav again. He shouldn’t be surprised; the woman seemed to be everywhere today. 

Across the path, she was engaged in a polite argument with Dammon at his tent. The smith held a hand up as if refusing something. Rolan caught sight of the polished sword pommel back in her scabbard once more, and surmised that Dammon must be turning down payment for the repair job after her help at the gate today. That seemed like his chivalrous style. 

Indeed, Rolan watched her tuck her leather coin purse away and offer a hand instead. Dammon accepted and shook it with a warm smile.

As he continued watching, the two struck up a friendly conversation. Rolan supposed a soldier would find much more to talk about with a smith than with an apprentice wizard. Her hand was draped at rest over her sword hilt again; that seemed to be an idle habit of hers. 

He remembered the city guard back in Elturel displaying the same gesture while posted at watch, and wondered whether she might be in a similar line of work. Back in…wherever it was she hailed from.

Insipid questions that Rolan nevertheless filed away in his mind to ask her at some point. If nothing else, it would make Lia happy to see him making an effort. Being nice.

Rolan glanced again at the dark stains on her fingers. She hadn't taken time to wash and rest yet since the fight. It was all over her, goblin blood and human, small flecks of it visible on her clothing and chestplate and even on the side of her face. Didn't she find it unpleasant? It would drive him mad. But it didn't seem to concern her, and Dammon certainly didn't look bothered.

The smith said something that made her laugh then, and a dimple appeared in Tav's blood-spattered cheek.

Dammon had an easy way about him that always seemed to earn him fast friends. Right now, Rolan found he was a bit envious of the trait. He didn't intend to come off as such a prickly ass, as Lia so affectionately liked to call him—though time and again he seemed to manage it. 

The constant setbacks between them and Baldur's Gate had just soured Rolan's mood in recent weeks, he told himself. His apprenticeship was all his mind could dwell on at rest, and each delay was harder to bear than the last.

But none of that was really Tav's fault. Inwardly, he could admit that Lia would have talked him into staying on her own anyway. Rolan found himself hoping that he'd made a non-terrible impression on the newcomer.

An elbow in his ribs broke his line of thought. "What?" Rolan looked around, rubbing the spot with a hand.

"I said, you're staring," Cal repeated. He and Lia were both looking at him—Rolan didn't like the expression on either face.

"Shut up," he said, though neither of them had spoken. "She's got blood all over her, who wouldn't?"

"I'm just saying." Cal put up both palms, his eyebrows raised. "From your face, you didn't seem that put off."

"Maybe she’d like to see your Thunderwave, Rolan," his sister suggested.

"You're both idiots." Rolan turned around with arms crossed, watching Okta pluck a dead chicken as though it might be interesting. The idiots on either side were not so easily deterred.

"There’s something about a woman in armor, isn't there, Cal?"

"I've always thought so." Cal leaned a forearm on Rolan's shoulder, sounding quite sincere. "Hey, you could offer to magic the bloodstains off her stuff for her. Use that presto—presti—"

"Prestidigitation," Rolan supplied, eyes still on Okta's cooking. A shockingly good idea from Cal. But it would be strange to offer that to a person he'd just met; Rolan dismissed the thought.

"She should've just taken the time to clean it herself before it all dried," Rolan said aloud. "The way her companions did, no doubt. Instead of running back and forth back here all day."

"Yeah," Lia drawled. "Saving little girls from pit vipers. What a waste of time."

“Well, only one way to find out if she’s interested.” Cal turned around and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Hey, Tav—”

Rolan would have smacked the back of his brother’s head had the woman not already turned toward the sound of her name. She approached their spot near the hearth looking politely curious.

“Lia was just wondering,” Cal started in—leaving Rolan’s name out of it, a smart choice for his skull— “won’t it take a long time to get all the stains out of your armor?” 

“Oh.” Tav sounded taken aback, but glanced down at herself as if just now noticing the state of her equipment. “Oh yeah, this’ll cost me a good half hour at least. And probably both my elbows,” she added with chagrin. “Damn. Got distracted by everything, I guess.”

“Because Rolan can magic it off in a second,” Lia said in a rush.

"Really?" Far from averse, she was looking at Rolan with sudden enthusiasm. "I didn’t know magic could—I mean, of course it can. I guess. Why, are you offering…?” She glanced between him and his siblings then, as if finally picking up on the strange energy between them.

Rolan felt all three pairs of eyes come to rest on him. He could hardly back out now. “If you’re interested,” he told her.

“Hells yes,” Tav laughed. “Are you kidding?”

Lia clapped her hands together softly. “Excellent. Well, since Tav’s interested—” She placed a strange emphasis on the word, one Rolan hoped only he noticed— “Cal and I should get going to set up camp. See you both later?”

“Right,” Cal agreed at once. With that, the pair of them slipped off in a few flicks of the tail. 

What a couple of damned children. Rolan let out a heavy sigh; they seemed determined to try every last slip of patience he had.

Tav followed him to a spot closer to the back corner of the Grove, a bit removed from the sounds and smells. A stream of cool air seeped in from somewhere outside the walls, and Rolan breathed in gratefully. He had found it hard to concentrate in the stale surroundings of this place.

“Right.” She stood opposite him, looking a bit unsure. “How does this work, exactly?”

“Just keep still,” Rolan advised her. This would be easier if she took off the pieces of her half-plate first, but asking her to do that seemed unthinkably familiar.

She did as he directed. “Sure you’re not going to transform me into a pigeon or something? Give me wings?”

“This is the simplest spell there is, I’m not an idiot.” Rolan’s tone was irritable, but it only made her laugh. He realized that she was teasing him.

Regardless, Rolan steadied his stance and reached out to the Weave. Whether or not it was technically correct, it was the way he’d taught himself. 

Breathe in—quiet each thought—feel the air above and the ground below—

Like a warm embrace from the oldest friend, the Weave flowed as a golden light into his cupped hand. Rolan formed the clear intention in his mind and guided the magic toward her. 

“It tickles,” Tav said in surprise, but he could tell she was doing her best to keep still. Her eyes were squeezed shut for some reason.

Rolan blinked at her, not sure how long she had expected this to take. “You can—it’s done.”

“Really?” Tav looked across her chest and shoulders and the greaves on her legs, admiring their new shine. “Wow…neat trick, that. So you’re saying Gale’s been watching us polish our armor and weapons every night when he could just use the Weave for two seconds?”

“The manipulation does take energy,” Rolan told her, not wanting to discredit a fellow wizard while he wasn’t here to defend himself.

Her expression changed a bit. Then she reached a hand to his shoulder. “Thanks for this, Rolan. It might be simple to you, but—” She dropped her arm and cast around with a tired laugh. “Life has honestly been…kind of terrible lately. Thank you for making it better.”

Rolan felt he could stand to hear more of that story, but he doubted she'd want to tell it. “You’re welcome,” he told her instead.

It was a bit awkward traveling back through the winding Grove together toward the entrance, but it could hardly be avoided. Their camps were both in the same direction.

The night patrol were watching vigilantly from the wall; the massive carved gate raised before them as if in anticipation. Rolan stepped out into the dark, cool evening with another grateful breath.

Beside him, Tav sighed wearily. "Well, 'night. Off to enjoy my extra sleep," she said with another smile to him before she turned away.

No such easy goodnight for him, Rolan knew. He imagined Cal and Lia perching awake on their bedrolls, eager to hear what chaos or embarrassment or both their meddling had caused for him this time. 

More concerning to him right now was the way his shoulder seemed to radiate where she'd placed a grateful hand before. Rolan rolled his arm a little, trying to shake the tingling warmth near his collar bone. It didn't quite work.

But perhaps he'd think about that tomorrow.

[mdhwrites]

You said the arcs of certain characters in TOH have an 'Us vs. Them mentality.' I take it that's because, as you say, the narrative pins the bad qualities of certain characters on separate parties (e.g. "Amity's flaws are only because of her mom"), but would you care to elaborate further on said mentality and how it sticks out to you in TOH?

So shockingly, not really. It plays into it but I am actually inherently talking about the same sort of mentality that Belos perpetuates but back onto Luz. After all, if you look at the main cast by even mid season 2 we have a problem forming. Eda: Has lost her criminal edge, has no personal interests, is defined by being nice in a way befitting Luz's worldview. Momma Eda.

Amity: No longer is studious and hard working but instead focuses more on her girlfriend and her nerdy interests. Is also now just nice. Was only shown genuine care by Luz, instead of just trying to fulfill her nerdy desires, once she finds out Amity is into Azura.

Lilith: Has turned into a nerd and given up on any ambitions that had led to her previous actions, becoming a nice cool aunt. Only now has Luz tried to form any relationship with her (admittedly, she didn't get many chances before now).

Hunter: Has only been being given kindness because he has shown a capacity for kindness that Luz only really started showing him, beyond not wanting him to die, once he showed he had a nerdy interest in wild magic.

Gus: Was a nerd from go and always nice, even if he could be slightly selfish.

Willow: By mid S2, is essentially out of the show for the past half season, has never had a strong personality and is just nice. Yes, she'll start her jock stuff soon... And never have a real conversation with Luz again, at least not until S3 maybe? So a full season where Luz and Willow, after Willow might have stopped being nerdy/an outcast, where Luz doesn't have an interest in her anymore.

And uh, just as a reminder to S3, Hunter gains a scifi interest post redemption and Luz explicitly listens to NOTHING her mother says to her during her big speech in For the Future until she reveals herself to be a secret nerd. At that point, suddenly Luz dials in.

For TOH, a show supposedly about the individual and self expression, characters either lose their personality and/or gain the personality that matches LUZ. There is less character variety in interests and personalities than even 90s cartoons much of the time by the end of TOH because these characters all lose so much of themselves fitting in with the good guys, especially the redeemed ones.

This is where your argument for this does come into play. I'll frame it as the fandom likes to with Amity: "She didn't have Luz in her life yet."

Amity is only a bitch while she is hanging out with the wrong crowd. Socialites, those with ambition and jocks. The Luz enters her life and despite the fact that the ONE time Luz ever calls Amity out for being a bitch being when Amity is being a bully to King and clearly trying to get a rise out of Luz, making that moment meaningless, that simple fact starts warping Amity. Starts making her turn back to her good, nerdy side. And because this is such an inherently good thing, there is no difficulty in doing this. She needs no motivation, no calling out, nothing. She just needs to desire to be like Luz/liked by Luz. She can discard her entire friend group and do things that should get her disowned with how evil Odalia is and face zero consequences because... I guess that's the power of becoming a nerd.

You are beyond reproach. You can only do good. Same goes for Hunter. Despite YEARS of potential propaganda and the like, Luz just getting into his life and admittedly jabbing at Belos/him a little, is all it takes for him to embrace the inherent goodness, displayed by his nerdiness about wild magic, and start becoming a better person. For this, he loses his home but that is only seen as a positive because indeed, he got away from those hostile influences that made him a bad person. He could now be a good person because he no longer had those influences and could embrace Luz's way of life.

With the show's themes, why is this the case? Shouldn't their base personalities be allowed to exist? Shouldn't a wide range of ideologies and the like be allowed since that is a part of self expression? Instead, when people don't like Luz, they are disapproved by Luz and either need to get the fuck out or conform.

And this is all without getting into how she becomes Jesus in the last episode...

None of this is intentional but if someone told me that the show felt hostile to them because they didn't consider themselves a nerd or because they tried to get somewhere in life, I wouldn't blame them. The show has a weirdly narrow belief in who is a good person. Who is allowed to exist in the main cast, a problem that cascades issues into a lot of its themes. I mean, this is the first show I've ever had to ask if character arcs are actually hurting the themes of the show because of this, a blog I sadly couldn't refind.

There is admittedly an element of this where I might not have thought about it without the fandom. Most people I know who are multi-fandom still agree that TOH is aggressive against others, even for a fandom. That it lashes out and blames others for its problems. Almost like a *gestures at the thesis*

And that doesn't help make any of this be less uncomfortable unfortunately. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[pankowcrumbs]

That Zombie just Blinked! X Rudy Pankow (requested)

MasterList

Outerbanks and Cast Masterlist

The crisp October evening air carried a chill that matched the buzzing excitement among the Outer Banks cast as we stood outside the towering, gothic structure of Ravenswood Haunted Manor. The mansion’s dark silhouette loomed ominously under the silver glow of the moon, its turrets and gnarled gargoyles casting eerie shadows across the grounds. Fog machines hissed, and distant howls played from hidden speakers, creating an ambiance fit for a horror movie.

“I’m telling you, nothing in there is going to scare me,” Rudy declared, his chest puffed out in mock bravado. He spun in a circle, addressing the group with exaggerated confidence. “I’ve seen every horror movie ever made. Haunted houses are, like, my thing.”

“Oh, really?” I asked, crossing my arms and raising a brow, a playful smirk tugging at my lips. I stood next to him, bundled in a cozy jacket, my eyes sparkling with amusement. “Because last week you wouldn’t even watch The Conjuring without turning on the lights.”

The group erupted into laughter as Rudy dramatically clutched his chest, feigning hurt. "Y/N?” he gasped. “And here I thought we were friends.”

“I’m just saying,” I teased. “Talk a big game all you want, but we’ll see who’s running for the exit first.”

Chase, leaning casually against a stone pillar, grinned. “I’ve got twenty bucks on Rudy screaming before we’re even halfway through.”

“Make it fifty,” Madison chimed in, shaking hands with Chase.

“You guys have no faith in me,” Rudy groaned, throwing his hands up. “Fine. Watch and learn, cowards.”

Jonathan nudged Drew. “This is gonna be good.”

Carlacia snapped a quick photo of the group standing in front of the mansion, tagging everyone on Instagram with the caption, “Ready to face our fears… or just laugh at Rudy.” The cast’s camaraderie was evident in their playful jabs and shared excitement, making the haunted experience even more thrilling.

The guide, dressed in a tattered cloak and ghostly makeup, motioned for the group to enter the mansion. “Welcome to Ravenswood,” he said, his voice a haunting growl. “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.”

Rudy took a step forward, leading the way with exaggerated confidence. “Let’s do this,” he said, though I caught the faintest hint of nerves in his eyes. I stifled a laugh, filing in behind him as the heavy wooden doors creaked shut with an ominous finality.

The first room was dimly lit, with flickering candles casting shadows on the cracked walls. A chilling piano melody played in the background, and cobwebs draped over the antique furniture. The air smelled of damp wood and fake blood.

“Okay, this isn’t so bad,” Rudy said, his voice slightly higher-pitched than usual. He pointed at a mannequin dressed as a ghost. “See? Totally fake.”

The mannequin suddenly lunged forward with a shriek, causing Rudy to yelp and jump back, bumping into me.

“Oh my god, it moved!” he shouted, clutching my arm.

I burst out laughing. “Rudy, it’s literally on wheels.”

“Still counts,” he muttered, cheeks flushing as the group dissolved into laughter.

As we moved through the mansion, the scares grew more elaborate. Mechanical bats swooped down from the ceiling, and actors in grotesque costumes leaped out from hidden corners. The group’s reactions ranged from startled jumps to outright screams, but Rudy’s exaggerated responses quickly became the highlight of the night.

In one hallway, lit only by a single swinging light bulb, a zombie animatronic suddenly turned its head and blinked. Rudy froze, his grip on my hand tightening like a vice.

“THAT ZOMBIE JUST BLINKED!” he yelled, his voice cracking.

“It’s supposed to blink,” I said, biting back laughter. “It’s an animatronic, Rudy.”

“I don’t care what it is! It’s alive!” he insisted, practically hiding behind me as the group cackled.

“Rudy, you’re killing me,” Chase said between fits of laughter, clutching his stomach. “Big, brave haunted house guy, huh?”

“Shut up, Stokes,” Rudy shot back, though he didn’t let go of my hand.

As the group progressed, I found myself shielding Rudy more and more. Whether it was a skeletal hand reaching out from the wall or a creepy clown popping out of a closet, Rudy’s reaction was always the same: a startled yell followed by him using me as a human shield.

“You’re really milking this, aren’t you?” I teased as we entered a room filled with fog and eerie green lighting.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rudy said, though the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him.

When we reached the grand finale—a winding maze filled with strobe lights and actors dressed as ghouls—Rudy clung to my arm like his life depended on it.

“If I don’t make it out of here, tell my mum I love her,” he whispered dramatically.

“You’re ridiculous,” I replied, though I couldn’t help but smile. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him through the maze. “Come on, scaredy-cat. I’ll protect you from the big, bad skeletons.”

Rudy looked down at me, his eyes softening despite the chaos around us. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re my hero.”

By the time we exited the mansion, Rudy’s bravado had been completely replaced by sheepish laughter. The group was in stitches, recounting his most dramatic moments.

“That zombie just blinked!” Chase mimicked, doubling over with laughter.

“Okay, okay, we get it,” Rudy said, holding up his hands. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Madelyn said, patting him on the back.

I stayed close to Rudy as the group headed to the parking lot. “You know, for someone who was terrified the whole time, you did pretty well,” I said with a grin.

“Yeah?” Rudy asked, his cheeks tinged pink. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” I replied. “And hey, if you ever need a bodyguard for your next haunted adventure, you know where to find me.”

Rudy chuckled, slipping his arm around my shoulders. “Deal. But next time, I’m picking the activity. Maybe something less terrifying. Like skydiving.”

I laughed, leaning into him as we walked. “Sounds perfect.”

[click4rainy]

Could you do Reiko (MK1) and the reader (who is also in the Outworld army) having a knife throwing contest? (You can choose if it’s platonic or romantic and who wins)

Right on target.

👽: I chose a super light flirty theme :) I’m not really good with reiko so bare with me here 💀🫶🏼 (not proof read)

⚠️: SFW//None really// bit of flirting? I think…banter???

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

★ In the secluded training grounds nestled within the heart of Outworld, you and Reiko engage in a private knife throwing contest, the rhythmic thud of blades hitting their targets echoing in the crisp air. Surrounded by the rugged landscape, the tension between you two crackles like lightning, fueled by the competitive spirit that drives each throw.

★ Reiko, usually composed, finds himself strangely drawn to your presence. His stoic facade begins to falter under the weight of your charm, his eyes lingering on the graceful arc of your movements and the sparkle in your gaze. Despite his attempts to maintain focus, his thoughts stray to the alluring figure before him, his heart racing with a mix of companionship and something more profound.

★ As the contest progresses, playful banter and teasing jabs punctuate the air between you, each exchange laced with an underlying flirtation that neither of you can ignore.

★"You call that a throw? I've seen toddlers with better aim," you jest, a smirk playing on your lips as you effortlessly land another bullseye.

★ Reiko chuckles, a rare warmth flickering in his eyes. "Careful, Y/N. Don't let your confidence get the best of you," he retorts, his tone teasing yet tinged with genuine admiration.

★ You share a knowing look, the air thick with unspoken tension as you trade playful barbs and competitive banter. Despite the intensity of the contest, there's an undeniable connection between you, a magnetic pull that draws you closer with each throw.

★"Impressive," Reiko concedes, his voice low and husky as he watches you sink another blade into the target. "But we’re just getting started."

★ You grin, a flicker of challenge in your eyes. "Bring it on, Reiko. I'm not backing down anytime soon."

★ As the contest continues, the sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the training grounds. With each throw, the bond between you deepens, forged through the shared thrill of competition and the electric spark that ignites between you.

★ Reiko's gaze softens, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're quite skilled, Y/N. It's refreshing to find someone who can match my prowess."

★ You feel a rush of warmth at his words, a sense of camaraderie mingled with a growing attraction. "Likewise, Reiko. It's not often I meet someone who can keep up."

★ As the contest draws to a close and the winner is declared, a charged silence envelops the training grounds. With a knowing look exchanged between you, the air crackles with anticipation, the promise of future encounters laden with flirtatious exchanges and stolen glances.

★"Looks like I win this time," you remark, a playful glint in your eyes—seeing as your knives were more on target.

★ Reiko's gaze twinkles with amusement. "Perhaps," he concedes, his voice tinged with a hint of challenge. “We should do this more often—to better my aim of course…”

★ “Oh right—to better your aim.” you echo back, a small grin curling onto your lips teasingly. “But of course…”

★ As you both agree to practice more together, the bond between you deepens, forged through the shared thrill of competition and the undeniable chemistry that simmers beneath the surface.

[profoundfics]

Tertiary Opinions II/II

Paths of Light - II: Vaults of the Beloved

Rating: Mature - Canon Typical Violence and Sex

Pairing: Rook Ingellvar x Emmrich Volkarin (Neve Gallus x Lucanis Dellamort | Lace Harding x Taash)

(A03 Chapter Index) | (Tumblr Chapter Index)

-- --

It was just the two of them. Manfred ambled far behind after receiving strict instructions to remain out of harm's way. And none of the others had expressed any particular keenness to venture into the dead-filled depths of the Necropolis again. Emmrich had been forced to take the lead to the Vault. Rook trailed behind him, thumbing her way through a thin tome as she walked, muttering to herself about a certain incantation being in the book.

Somewhere.

‘They really should put indexes in the back of these things,’ she groused, pausing under a wall brazier of veilfire and began flicking through the pages with increased speed.

Emmrich had only caught a glimpse of the book when she first pulled it from the small shoulder bag she brought. But in the greenish light he could see it was ancient; the fabric cover was worn at the corners, the spine abused with thin cracks webbing up the length of the book and any indication as to the title of the book appeared lost to time.

‘Ah-ha,’ she exclaimed, opening the book fully.

Emmrich walked back to Rook. She was looking at a page with a twelve line evocation centrally positioned on the page. Notes in Rook’s elegant scrawl covered what had once been the blank margins around the printed words. He blanched at the sight, only realising that he’d made a sound when Rook looked at him.

‘I take it you disapprove?’ She asked, closing the book slightly to meet his gaze.

‘If it is your own property, it's yours to do as you wish,’ he replied mildly, but she was shaking her head. ‘This is an ancient practice,’ remarking on the spell.

‘I know,’ Rook agreed, reopening the book again. ‘But I noticed the candles when we fought our way through the vault the second time around, and I figured…’ She jabbed at the page. ‘The alterations should allow the spell to awaken the wards quicker than the original casting.’

‘Isn’t there mimetic value in following the original invocations?’ Emmrich enquired.

‘If that were the case, we’d still be casting in Elvish,’ she remarked, folding over the page then closing the book around her finger. He frowned at her and a frustrated growl rumbled from her throat. ‘Academics.’ She made it sound like an insult. ‘When you have something like the door upstairs and you don’t know what’s behind it, then yes, perfect mimesis is the ideal solution. But the vast majority of the time? No. Altering the spells, be it through the wording or even the casting gestures can strengthen wards considerably, improving their durability and even allowing for extra protections to be added. Also time saving if whatever is trying to kill you is bearing down on you.’

She smiled at him. A bright, dazzling expression while tucking the book into a large pouch that asked him to trust her. He did. She’d more than proven her necromantic abilities and instincts during their last excursions in the Necropolis. She moved around him, the usual brush of her perfume wrapping around him, encouraging him to follow. She paused at the end of the corridor and peered around the corner to observe the walking dead.

‘There are a lot of them,’ she remarked solemnly, turning back to him and pushing a lock of hair from her eyes. ‘What’s causing it though?’

‘Solas’ ritual has had a far reaching impact on the Fade,’ Emmrich replied, matching her solemnity. ‘Spirits are still aflurry with activity following the gods' escape. Our inability to tend to the dead here make them perfect hosts for hostile entities to reach this world.’

Clearing their way through was an easy feat, a harmonised pattern of attack developing between them. Emmrich found himself being able to read her movement as she danced her way through battle stances and shield throws to cut a path through the vault. Around it all she also kept track of his attacks, timing her most devastating moves with his recovery rates as though she could visualise the mana within him. While she focused on her martial skills, he did begin to see hints of her more powerful abilities. A club to her abdomen was answered with a draining spell tugged at the lifeforce of the attacker. The spell reduced the cadaver to ash, healing Rook’s injury before it began to cause her any pain.

At the far set of candles, Rook unshouldered her pack and carefully lowered it to with a soft clink. She withdrew a thurible and what appeared to be a premixed cleanser, a bottle of clarified water and small lumps of charcoal.

‘At the end of each stanza,’ she said once she got the charcoal burning with conjured veilfire, ‘if you’d be so kind as to repeat that line and light both sets of candles at the same time, I’d be grateful.’

Soon, the thurible’s smoke changed colour to a pinkish hue, the smell of frankincense, calendula and cedar wrapped around them and Rook got to her feet, shouldering the pack and they made their way back up along the chamber. They walked at a solemn pace. Emmrich kept his actions precise, cautious that any change in the spell could have an unintended impact on the room, but stanza by stanza the etheric murk lifted.

‘Admit it,’ Rook said once they reached the entrance again. ‘You thought it was going to cause some sort of cataclysmic explosion and let a massive pride spirit through?’

‘Nothing quite so dramatic,’ Emmrich replied as he turned to admire their handiwork. ‘I was concerned it wouldn’t work as well as you hoped.’

She held the thurible up, still emitting the cleansing smoke. ‘What do you think this was for? It wasn’t like I could test the incantation before we arrived, mainly on the count of not being able to find it. This was the back up.’

‘Then you made the adaptions -’

‘Years ago,’ she finished for him, opening the thurible and dampening the charcoal with magic. ‘Found something similar in a crypt during the Rift Crisis, I’d like to say in the lower levels but it’s probably moved somewhere else. The original was actually pretty ineffective so I adapted it, and used the new spell.’ She got to her feet and admired her handiwork. ‘Should take a day or so to settle the chamber then we can go through to the next room. Any idea what’s back there?’

‘I have some idea,’ Emmrich replied.

They returned in companionable silence to the belfry chamber, but on their approach, a raised voice alerted them to commotion. Beside him, Rook went pale as she slowed to a halt. Even the colour appeared to drain from her eyes leaving a swirl of grey mist around her pupil.

‘Rook?’

‘The Commander.’

He didn’t need to hear anymore. Reaching over he grabbed her hand, the pressure of his fingers prompting her to look him in the eyes. Fear swam in her expression, her hand developing a small quake and for a moment he was dumbfounded as to what he could say to her. But then she curled her fingers around his, blowing out a steadying breath.

‘I’m going to have to face him at some point,’ she said.

‘And I’m right with you,’ Emmrich assured her. ‘With any luck, if needed, my word will carry weight, given I outrank the Commander in the hierarchy of the order.’

‘What?’

‘Academic schools outrank military corps,’ Emmrich explained gently. ‘I was prompted to refamiliarise myself with our charter after you told me why you left, should you require an intercession during any of our visits.’

Rook frowned. ‘I’m not going to hide behind you.’

‘I don’t expect you to, I’m more than sure you don’t need me to step in on your behalf, but if you do, say the word,’ Emmrich told her. ‘Shall we?’

She took a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath then blowing it out slowly and letting go of his hand. He let her get a few steps ahead of her before he followed, his hands behind his back.

Her entrance into the belfry caused silence to fall.

Commander Lucien van Markham would have been an imposing, stocky figure were he not two inches shorter than Emmrich. He did, however, tower over Myrna, and to her credit, she was having none of the posturing occurring before her. Hands on her hips, she met the commander's cold, icy glare with swirling dislike. Rook moved closer to the fray, her steps getting surer as she reached the centre of the room.

While Emmrich could not see her expression, he could tell by the hardline he could just make out from the jut in her jaw, that she had schooled her face into an expression that would brook no argument. The same one she had used in the Minrathous with Neve the day before.

Van Markham had not come alone. In a four-by-four formation behind him, sixteen senior Reapers stood in their famous Pillar of the Departed armour like imposing sarcophagi waiting to strike. The Commander wore his ceremonial robes as if he had rushed here from another engagement. When she stood ten feet away from the gathering, Rook drew up to her full height, slammed one foot down with a metallic clang and saluted with her right fist over her heart.

‘Arrest her,’ Van Markham ordered, pointing in the direction of Rook.

‘You will do no such thing,’ Myrna shot back immediately. ‘The matter is long since out of your hands, Commander.’

The retinue had not moved. As Keeper of the Seals, Myrna far outranked any member of the Reapers. She outranked Emmrich. Van Markham turned his head to look at Rook with utter disgust around his thin mouth. He’d been an attractive man in his youth, with pale blue eyes and dark blonde hair, but all that had gone to seed now. Deep furrows marked his forehead and his hairline had retreated so far back he had grown the hair at the back of his head long enough to comb it forward.

‘Out of my hands?’ Markham bellowed, turning back to Myrna. ‘This woman,’ he spat the word, showering Myrna with a thin film of spittle, ‘disobeyed multiple direct orders and destroyed three generations of Van Markham reliquary. It is a matter for the Reapers.’

‘Casual Destruction of the Dead,’ said Myrna, delicately patting her face down with a handkerchief she had withdrawn from her sleeve, ‘is a matter for the High Council to consider. Not the court marital chambers. You overstretched. Were you keen to discipline Watcher Ingellvar’s refusal to stand down, you would have charged her with insubordination or dereliction of duty at the time. As you did no such thing, one might go as far as to say your actions carried a certain air of personal retribution.’

Markham’s eyes bulged at the accusation to such a degree that Emmrich was certain he was about to suffer a fit of apoplexy. The flickering vessel twitching above his eye certainly suggested it was possible. He looked poised to shout again, but he seemed to realise his audience had grown and he was significantly outnumbered by figures of higher authority. Particularly now that VORGOTH had arrived.

‘THE GRAND COUNCIL HAS ABSOLVED WATCHER INGELLVAR OF ANY CHARGE REGARDING HER CONDUCT,’ they announced, its voice more something felt within than heard.

‘Of course they have,’ Van Markham declared with seething sarcasm. ‘Just as they absolved her the last time she insulted my family’s honour.’

‘Insulted your honour?’ Rook cut through the conversation. Higher than usual pitch Emmrich was used to, her voice rang against the towering walls, bouncing off the still bell above them. ‘Your nephew is the one who insulted your honour through his conduct. Or do you believe that women are to become nothing more than leibeigene upon taking nuptial vows?’

It was as if the bell above Emmrich had tolled at the small fact. Rook had pulled herself to her full height, not as tall as Van Markham, but enough that she could look him straight in the eye. There was a twitch to her gauntlet covered fingers, flexing them as if she wanted to punch him. Emmrich had a burning desire to wrap the man in spirit cords to make the job easier for her.

Again, Van Markham sputtered but finally sensing he was on the wrong side of the argument, or at least outnumbered enough that it wasn’t worth his while to continue trying to make the argument, he turned. A flick of his wrist ordered his retinue to part so he could leave with some dignity intact. The march was loud, stone and metal clanging together as the sixteen soldiers followed their commander under the scrutiny of the assorted witnesses. Skeletal assistants closed the doors behind them leaving Emmrich free to return his attention back to Rook. VORGOTH had his gloved hand on Rook’s shoulder, its hooded head inclined down towards her, in a gesture that could be considered sympathetic, perhaps even fatherly in nature.

‘The man remains an insufferable fool,’ Myrna announced. ‘Ah, Professor, a pleasure to see you, though I had little doubt you were too far away.’

‘Indeed, we were seeing to the cleansing of the Vault of the Beloved,’ he informed his colleague walking to join the group. ‘Rook has masterful skill within her wardweaving abilities. It must be quite a blow to the Reapers to not be able to call on her aid.’

‘AND YOUR TRAVELS? ARE THEY BEARING FRUIT?’ VORGOTH asked.

‘Quiet so,’ replied Emmrich. ‘It will make for quite the presentation should we fulfil our mission.’

‘That should make for a pleasant diversion,’ Myrna said, then turned to VORGOTH. ‘We will need to arrange for further sanctification of the vault before they can return to their full use. Professor, if your work here is not done, there is a matter of concern we would discuss with you, regarding the Basalt Hypogeum.‘

--//-*-\\--

His office, his academic bastion, was surprisingly empty. Emmrich knew he had removed a large amount of his collection to the Lighthouse but as he’d done so in a manner that resulted in him returning when he had needed something extra he hadn’t fully noticed just how much he’d decamped. The room reminded him of his first days as a Professor fifteen years earlier when he had been presented with this empty room for his use. Associate Lecturers shared offices and it had been a nightmare as his companion had no concept of tidiness. He sat in the chair, having given up hope of finding the journal he’d been looking for, knowing it would likely be back at the Lighthouse.

The loss of the Basate Hypogeum was more than concerning, having coincided with the recent Venatori incursions. He had known their intentions had been to siphon energy from the Necropolis but the removal of a whole room. That seemed inconceivable. Myrna had shown him, and Rook, the gaping hole left behind, a bottomless chasm with swirling mists. Reshuffles were normal, but the Necropolis always put itself back together in a way that left no gaps. A strange nothingness hung in the air with a howl to the winds that sounded like mourning.

New seals were in the process of being enchanted so it could not happen again but it would still be some time until they were back in place. There was a tap at the door, followed by Rook entering as if they were back at the Lighthouse. VORGOTH had extended an invitation of luncheon to her after the tour. She no longer wore her armour, which Manfred had brought here an hour earlier, adorned in yet another floor length velvet coat, this time of midnight blue with fleck of silver threading at the hems and through the buttons.

‘Find what you were looking for?’ She asked, glancing around the office with interest before frowning. ‘Have you moved it all to the Lighthouse?’

‘In my bid to have as much knowledge at my fingertips,’ he said, rather sheepishly, ‘yes.’

Rook chuckled. ‘I should really ask Myrna for some of my belongings for the Lighthouse. Leaving didn’t really allow me much in the way of creature comforts.’ She picked up a dusty canopic jar. ‘Anyone famous?’

‘Found at the Charnal Bridge before the Nightmare Fog descended,’ he replied.

‘It’s still there?’ She asked, putting the jar down carefully. ‘We should really get someone to banish that thing.’

‘Multiple attempts have been made,’ he replied, tracking Rook as she moved around the room, assailed by a strange sense that she simply belonged here just as much as she did in his study within the Lighthouse.

Rook ignored the chairs and perched on his desk, mere meters from where he sat. She rapped her nails across the surface of the desk. ‘I feel as if I owe you further thanks even if in this case, it was hypothetical. You'd have had my back with Van Markham, had he not already been crossing his swords with Myrna.’

‘He’s a fool,’ Emmrich replied. ‘Always been more concerned with his own standing. A poor attribute for a member of the Watch, but a common one amongst the lesser nobility.’

‘He’s so far down their line of ascension, I don’t think we can even call him lesser nobility,’ said Rook quietly. ‘But I fear Myrna is right, his umbrage with me is a personal matter over his jilted nephew. It is not an argument that can be won by hitting him over the head with the founding charter, or any of the subsequent amendments.’ She huffed out a soft laugh that brimmed with sadness. ‘I might never be able to return if I have to watch my back for him.’

‘It would appear crossing you means crossing VORGOTH,’ he observed lightly. ‘There are very few who would openly do that. VORGOTH’s fury is not to be taken lightly.’

‘And yet, the annals show there is always one,’ she said. ‘Someone who thinks their transgressions will go unnoticed by their near omniscient observations.’ She sighed. ‘What’s next in terms of reaching the Greater Spirits?’

The change of subject caught him off guard for a moment. The reminder of VORGOTH’s reach churning with thoughts of desire he had for the woman before him. He had witnessed VORGOTH’s terrify powers when dispensing justice and yet, it did not dampen his desire for her. That he’d be willing to cross VORGOTH‘s wrath to have her was testimony within itself.

‘I believe the Memorial Gardens lie beyond the Vault of the Beloved,’ Emmrich finally replied, regaining his senses. ‘We’ll need to perform the Sacred Rites of Remembrance to reaffirm our pledge to the dead so we may consult the Greater Spirits. I’d be honoured if you’d join me.’

-- --

Translation -

leibeigene - serf, chattel or thrall