#Learn about the Muses: Tag Games

[sadesluvr]

TEETH.

Sergei Kravinoff might be a villian, and you a hero; but at the end of the day you're both animals.

A/N: First fic in a while so my bad if it sucks. You already know this movie was basically ass but we only watched it for ATJ anyway - I'm changing some of Kraven's character so he's similar to the comics/Spider-Man 2 game, so be sure to read the tags bc he’s a lil dark…

Word count: 2.3K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Spiderwoman! Reader / Breeding / Unprotected + rough sex

Kraven feared nothing. 

It simply wasn’t in his blood; not his staunchly machismo upbringing, nor in his DNA, quite literally having that of a lion. Fear made one weak. Fear made you less of a man. Fear was what killed his mother. 

If anything, fear was just another animal; ready to be captured, killed and conquered, ultimately destined to be draped across his chiselled body or mounted on a wall.  

You were simply no different. 

He never really understood why people were afraid of spiders, but he knew that they were a nuisance, having haunted him since he was a boy. Spiders weren’t savages like lions or bears, but they were sneaky; crawling around in the dark and waiting to strike, with a face so obscured that you’d never really know what you were looking at...what they were thinking.  

But now, with your mask off, he could see you clearly. Fear; clouding your eyes and consuming your lungs as you heaved, choking on the intensity of the emotion itself as your pupils darted between the beige, bloodied teeth on his necklace and a crossbow pointed right at your heart. 

“So, you’re the insect causing me all this trouble?” the man mused; legs crossed upon a desk as he eyed you. “I should’ve known.” 

“Should’ve known what? You know nothing about me.”  

“You’re a girl.” 

“Sexist, much.” 

He chuckled. 

“Far from it. My father, however, was quite the traditionalist. He would’ve done much worse by now.” 

There was a heavy silence as you swiped at your bottom lip. Much to your dismay, blood had begun to dry, and you were left with a salty, scratchy throat. Liquid, some of any kind, would’ve been appreciated, but you knew all too well that Kraven wasn’t one for showing mercy. Like all the villains you’d encountered, you’d had a push-pull relationship with the Hunter since the very beginning. He created a plan; you foiled it, sometimes you’d get your ass beat but the ending was almost always the same – with you safe from harm's way, and a bloodthirsty ego chipped away, but momentarily put to rest. 

On this occasion you’d slipped up, your Spidey-senses failing you and placing you right into harm's way, shipped into the back of a van and somehow escorted to a somewhat uncharacteristically lavish mansion.  

You'd always found Kraven to be a man of contradictions; whether he realised it or not. He was the best and worst of both worlds, a hunter with all the grit of someone who’d been fighting their entire life as a poverty-stricken rogue, and yet you’d come to learn that he was a Russian aristocrat, hence his rather extensive knowledge and unrelenting desire for control. Still, nothing took away from the fact that he was a brute, not even his strikingly good looks. 

“Just shoot me and be over it,” You continued, watching as he lowered his feet from atop the desk and strolled over to you.  “You didn’t need to drag me all the way here.” 

He looked even bigger than usual, but perhaps it was because you were perched uncomfortably on a chair, arms bound behind you as you craned your neck to look up at him. Your mind couldn’t - no, didn’t - want to fathom what he was thinking of you from this angle. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I care nothing about your secret. I just wanted to look you in the eye.” He mused, rummaging through his back pockets. Your breath hitched in your throat as he slid a knife from its sheath, finely carved and sharpened and lowered it to his side before pacing around you, stopping as his firm torso pressed up against the tip of your neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for your neck to be split open, only to be released from your bounds.  

Instinctively, you went to shoot some webs, hoping you could at least catapult yourself across the room, but he tightly grasped your wrists, steadying your arms in place.  

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” he sneered. “These are antiques.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Get up,” he announced suddenly, almost dragging you to your feet. Hesitantly, you began to shuffle out of the room, overwhelmed by the seemingly endless walls and corridors, all framed in ivory and the finest mahogany. “Keep walking until I tell you to stop.” 

You continued down the hall, opting for a straight line. It seemed to be the correct way as once you passed into the threshold of a room that had a velvet chaise lounges and a dresser, he dropped his hands from their grip on your own, closing the door behind you. Oddly enough, you never heard the click of a latch. 

Without a word, he walked past you to open the drawer, rummaging through the contents. It utterly baffled you why you didn’t feel the urge to protest, or even fight. The entire ordeal was feeling more like a glorified house tour with a side of intimidation rather than a future crime scene. 

Was it because he was handsome? Wild? Filthy rich? Whatever happened to your values? Perhaps Jameson was right.  

Your thoughts were interrupted by the man placing something in the desk, curling his finger to beckon you towards him.  

“See this? This is what keeps me going,”he said, rolling a vial of florescent liquid in his fingertips.  “You and I are more alike than you think.” 

You scoffed, trying to ignore how close he was to you. He had an earthly musk that invaded your senses, sending tingles down your spine… and to your core. 

“I don’t need a drug to do what I do.” 

“Never mind the drug. It’s our blood that makes us strong.” 

You cocked a brow and he ignored your confused look. 

“You know, I’ve always hated spiders…” he began, rubbing his beard in contemplation.  “Too itchy; unpredictable. You never really know where they’re going to show up. If I ever saw one, I used to pop them like a zit.” 

There was a clear disgust in his words and vacant look in his eye that sunk you into a pit of fear for perhaps the first time since regaining your consciousness. You knew that it was just about you (surely), but perhaps a weird extension of your being; something bigger, far more innate than a girl in a spandex spider suit. 

“But then I realised that for their size, they’re deadly. Powerful, even. Recently I’ve wondered what it would look like if I harnessed it myself.” 

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your dry throat once more. 

“A drop of blood usually does the trick.” 

He tutted. Perhaps you were being too fickle. 

“No, любимец [darling], not that way. I crave something more.” 

Your eyes darted to the lounge. Since when did Spider-Woman lack composure? Kraven’s impenetrable gaze followed your own, and he chuckled knowingly. 

“With your arachnid abilities and my strength, we could create something truly unique. Nature has its ways, you know.” 

“You’re sick,” you replied, your chin held high but your bottom lip wobbled. “I’ll never join you. What you do is immoral.” 

Kraven furrowed his brows. 

“You killed a man, and you talk about morality?” 

“He was a bad man.” 

“He was my brother.” 

The word humanised him a bit. The Chameleon wasn’t your most imposing foe, but he was still a challenge you’d been rather glad to conquer. It was all too often that you’d fallen into the trap of thinking that the world was black and white; good and bad, when occasionally it was grey. Kraven was allowed to grieve his brother, but at the end of the day they were both bad guys. 

Then why did he turn you on so much? 

“You don’t have to resist,” the man grinned, strolling towards you. He stopped, glancing down and reaching a hand up to cup the sides of your face, caressing your cheekbones and sides of your lip with his thumb, threatening to penetrate your mouth. “I’ve never been this close to you before…I can smell you.” 

You were both superhuman, but he had the thirst of a predator. Quite literally. Breath hitched in your throat as he angled his lips to your ear, whispering a few fatal words. 

“Give in, маленький паучок [little spider]. Your body yearns for me.” 

One large hand was wrapped around your neck as he kissed you, his wild beard scratching against your face as his other hand snaked down your suit, down to between your thighs. The latex did nothing to offer you safety, his callouses prodding at your wet slit and beginning to rub in small circles, oh-so internationally slow, making sure he pressed against the hood of your clit. 

He had you as soon as a small moan escaped your lips. It’d been a while since you’d been touched, let a alone by someone who was as well-travelled as The Hunter himself, and every kiss, nibble and squeeze was sending you into a deeper spiral of lust and guilt that you could barely fathom that you’d already made your way to the lounge. 

You pulled away as your calves collided with the frame, lips wet and parted as you glanced up at him – wholly helplessly. His hand remained firm on your face, angling his head as he smirked at your shielded demeanour, a far cry from the flashy superhero you’d been but an hour ago.  

“Kra—“ 

“Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth. “Call me Sergei. I need to hear you say it.” 

The name rolled from your lips as a cry as he bunched the sides of your suit in his hands and tearing it apart, exposing your bare pussy and ass, with strands of fabric shaping your legs like a makeshift garter. He grinned, large hands frantically groping at your thighs and ass, spreading your cheeks apart and exposing your hot core to the cool air. 

“прекрасный.” [Gorgeous] he moaned, swatting at your ass before dipping his fingers inside you, rubbing your folds between his fingers as you coated him in your juices. Grasping your hands around his thick neck, you clung onto what you could as he explored your body, lowering you down onto the smooth velvet. 

It wasn’t long before he straddled you, holding your body down with his pelvis as he removed his jacket, giving you an eyeful of his crafted torso. Unsurprisingly, he had the body of a God, with a prominent v-line and happy trail pointing down to between his legs. Even through his heavy trousers you could make out his bulge, mounded and ready for you. 

You gasped in anticipation, watching as the man withdrew his cock from his briefs; red and girthy, with precum spilling from his tip. Skilfully, he spread your thighs, making sure they were safely by your sides (he’d seen how flexible you were, your ankles touching your ears was nothing) and lifting your lower back slightly off the cushions, pushing into you with a deep sigh. 

At first, his intrusion was a dull ache, but as he began to move his hips against your own you felt utterly fulfilled, moaning and writhing as he wasted no time in daggering your wanting pussy, making sure you felt every inch.  

“Sergei...” you cried, eyes fluttering shut as you flung your head back in pleasure. “Please...” 

“Say it again.” 

Words evaded you. 

The man grinned, flashing his canines as he tightened his grip, compelling him to fuck you harder. The whole ordeal was obscene; New York’s most treasured hero being bent into submission by the villain of the week, a scene so heinous that it was all the more endearing, and with every thrust you knew you wanted him more. Sergei didn’t care whether his combat boots scuffed the fine upholstery, or if his grip on your waist would leave a few bruises – he just wanted to own you. 

He huffed as his heavy balls slammed repeatedly against your crack, beginning to bottom out in you with every hit, so much so that it looked like you were conjoined.

Even through the strain in your legs you could tell you were close, knots in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel as your walls clenched around him, earning a delighted rumble from deep within his chest. 

You knew that he wasn’t one for talk, but you would’ve appreciated the warning that he was about to come. Every guy you’d been with tended to get sloppier, but he grew stronger, the literal animal in him taking over as he began to ramble and curse through gritted teeth in Russian.  

Sergei threw his head back as he held you down, hands pawing your breasts and strands of hair sprawled in a beautiful mess across his face as he came, ropes of hot white cum spilling into your pussy just as you dressed his cock in a silky sheen. Your chests heaved as you desperately tried to come down from your high, glancing down at your messy nether regions as his seed began to seep out of you.  

There was no going back. Nine months began now. 

Would it really be all that bad? 

It all went back to fear, really. In the back of his mind the thought of a spider still troubled Sergei, but at least he’d conquered it. Even if it was temporary. 

FIN. 

[exorcxqsm]

The price of desire.

ᯓWord Count: 4,4k

ᯓ tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, alterations to the main story, toxic relationship, dr/y humping, t/easing, (lowkey) o/rgasm control, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, breath play, sensory play, spanking, mention of breeding!kink (toxic if you squint really hard), creampies, dom!sylus, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie), violence, mentions of blood and injuries.

ᯓnotes: This is my first published work here, it took me some time to write but I believe I’m content with how it came out. At first, the idea was to keep it a part one which is connected to an event of the series. Ending this part, I can think of some ways this can go, but I’d still want your opinion:) If you want to see more of this, please go ahead and ask. Any reblogs and likes will be appreciated. 

You were a dangerous woman, a fact well-known throughout the N109 Zone. As the assistant to one of the most feared men in the underworld, your reputation was built on the edge of a knife. 

But today, the real danger sat directly across from you at the table—your boss's most formidable and deadly rival: Sylus.

His silver-white hair fell messily over his forehead, creating a disheveled yet intentional look that only added to his unsettling charisma. A smirk played on his lips, while his crimson eyes held an unreadable intensity,  as he sat on the table with his henchmen on each side of him. Luke and Kieran.

You had done your research, uncovering every scrap of information about the three men before you. It was a challenge, of course; the leader of the most notorious illegal organization in the N109 Zone wasn’t one to divulge valuable intel easily. Yet you had pieced together enough to know the depths of Sylus's ruthlessness.

You were certain of one thing: Sylus would not hesitate to sacrifice anyone—including his own men—if it suited his purpose. The black-red tendrils of his mist would mercilessly end the person and he wouldn’t blink an eye while his lethal capability, capable of extinguishing a life in an instant, would take over. 

The only individuals he seemed to protect were Luke and Kieran, his unwavering henchmen, whose loyalty was both a strength and a potential weakness in this deadly game.

Everyone claimed that the twins were somewhat adopted by him—a complex relationship in which he protected and provided for them in exchange for their loyalty and services.

If you were being honest with yourself, you found yourself drawn to the twins. They exuded a carefree spirit that brought an element of fun, even in the context of business. You often wished you could shed your own uptight demeanor and embrace life as they did.

Your thoughts were abruptly pulled back to the present when one of Sylus’s men dropped two large armory boxes onto the table that separated your group from his. As the man opened the boxes, a collection of modified and illegal firearms was revealed, each piece looking as lethal as the man who had crafted them.

Dante, your boss, rose from his chair beside you to inspect the guns. After all, that was the purpose of this meeting—a trade, a business transaction between two men who despised each other's very existence, yet could not deny that, in times of crisis, their respective resources could prove invaluable to one another.

Dante provided the protocores, and Sylus expertly modified them. When Dante requested his part of the deal, the modified protocores were returned to him in the form of firearms capable of ending a life in less than the blink of an eye.

“Resourceful as always, Mr. Sylus,” your boss mused, but Sylus’s gaze was locked onto yours, seemingly ignoring Dante entirely.

“Oh, Dante,” he said, the man’s name dripping with disdain, “my little black heart is shattered into pieces. One would think you’d have learned by now not to question my methods or my work.”

You rolled your eyes at the silver-haired menace, your heels clicking against the carpet in a rhythm of impatience. You were growing weary of this standoff. Dante needed to state the agreed price and move on already.

“Set the price.”

Sylus’s smirk widened at Dante’s request, his eyes now fully focused on him. He seemed to stall deliberately, taking slow, measured steps around the room. His imposing aura filled the space, the coat draped over his broad shoulders swaying slightly with each movement. Finally, he came to a halt by the table, gripping its edge with both hands and leaning forward.

“Such a pretty kitten you have with you, hm?” he taunted.

Your gaze turned icy as Dante’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Are you referring to Miss Y/N?”

Sylus tilted his head to the side, his crimson eyes locking onto you once more, studying you with an intensity that made you uneasy. “You’re a foolish man, Dante.”

“What the hell did you just say?” 

You exhaled through your nose, frustrated by your boss’s inability to keep his pride in check when it came to Sylus. This man ran an entire organization yet seemed unable to handle a little provocation.

“I said…” Sylus drawled, relishing the moment, “you’re a foolish man. Only someone with the brain capacity of a goldfish would keep a pretty kitten like her uncollared.”

You shot up from your seat faster than lightning, leaning dangerously close to Sylus, your hand itching to grab one of the weapons from the boxes in front of you.

“You should watch your mouth when speaking to a lady, Mr. Sylus,” you seethed, your voice low but fierce. “Only a man with the brain capacity of a goldfish would disrespect a woman for no apparent reason.”

Sylus chuckled at your retort, a wide grin spreading across his sharp features, revealing his teeth.

“Feisty,” he mouthed, a smirk playing on his lips, meant only for you to see.

Just then, Dante stepped up behind you, and you almost forgot he was there until his hand landed firmly on your behind, giving it a squeeze. Your hand was so close to the gun that it took all your willpower not to reach for it.

Sylus's expression shifted, the amusement fading as his brows furrowed, re-centering on his forehead.

“Set. Your. Price,” Dante reiterated, his body uncomfortably close to yours.

You had served as his assistant for far too many years, becoming accustomed to his unpredictable behavior. Yet, deep down, he knew you wouldn’t dare act against him with all his guards surrounding him.

You were a capable assassin, more than capable of matching his malevolence, but you were just one woman up against his entire army. He was well aware of your skills, which is precisely why he always kept a close contingent of guards present during your meetings in his office. You were his most valuable asset, yet he was frightened of what you could do if pushed too far.

Despite this knowledge, he often seemed to forget the extent of your capabilities, choosing instead to provoke Sylus.

“Her.”

“No.” Your response was immediate, your tone firm. He couldn’t be serious.

Dante’s chest shook with laughter beside you, his golden teeth glinting in the light.

“She’s off the table, I’m afraid,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Very well, then.” Sylus retracted from the table and rose to his full height, a shadow looming over both you and your boss. “So is the deal. Have a good one, Mr. Dante.”

Your shoulders relaxed for only a brief moment, but before you could even blink, you found yourself lifted off your feet and thrown over the table like a ragdoll.

Fucking bastard.

Of course, the deal was too important for him to let it slip away. Sylus knew exactly what he was doing when he pulled this stunt.

“Don’t even think about it,” you spat, your voice harsh and defiant. “I am your right hand; your business will crumble without me!”

Sylus seemed to revel in the chaos, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. As his black-red mist began to swirl around the room, it coalesced around your body, lifting you off the table and bringing you effortlessly to his side.

Your struggles were utterly futile. No power could match his evol.

“Bastard!” you yelled, directing your fury at your boss.

Dante let out a deep sigh, visibly irritated but choosing to remain silent. His organization was already on the brink of collapse, a fact known only to you—and apparently Sylus too. That was the reason he had recently struck a deal with Onychinus; only their resources could possibly uplift him now—if anyone could, that is.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Dante.”

The plush sofa of his dimly lit living room felt uncomfortably rough against your bare thighs as you took in your surroundings. Your revealing dress had ridden up significantly due to the twins’ rough handling as they placed you there, while their boss prowled around the sofa like a predator circling its prey.

The record player in the corner emitted a classical melody that only heightened the unnerving atmosphere, each note echoing with an eerie elegance.

“So uptight,” Sylus whispered in your ear, causing you to jump as his breath brushed against your skin. You hadn’t even noticed when he had gotten so close. “My, my… and so jumpy, aren’t we, kitten? Just try not to scratch my ceiling.”

You turned to glare at him, and if looks could kill, he would have been slain by the fire in your eyes. Nevertheless, you managed to keep your voice steady. “Why am I here?”

He didn’t bother to meet your gaze as he sank into his enormous cushioned chair across from you. A black-and-red mist began to swirl around your body once more, and before you could react, it lifted you off the couch and positioned you right on his lap, straddling him.

“What the hell?”

His hand shot up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Shh, just keep your claws sheathed for a moment.”

You could feel your patience wearing thin. “Why. am I. here?”

Sylus's jaw tightened slightly, and if you weren’t intently observing his every expression, you might have missed it. “Because, kitten, Dante and I had a transaction.”

“Isn’t your typical price protocores when dealing with my boss?”

“Typically…” Sylus’s gaze was fixed on your face as an eerie silence enveloped the room.

Before you could process his words, his hand snaked around your throat, pulling you closer. His eyes locked onto your lips, a predatory glint flickering within them.

“What are you doing…” you whispered, your body tensing in instinctive response.

“Show me, kitten.”

“What?”

Sylus chuckled softly, a mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. “I know you’re a smart kitten; don’t play dumb with me. It won’t help you.”

Of course, you understood what he was implying, but how did he know?

“I have no idea what you want,” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

His hand tightened around your throat, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. Then you noticed it—the red glow of his eye—and you realized what he was doing. “Show me.”

Ironically, he was now in control of your actions, even though he sought the opposite.

You slowly removed your glove, compelled by the white-haired man in front of you. Your bare hand pressed firmly against his chest, and in an instant, his heartbeat ceased.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

You stared at his face, dumbfounded, as the glow in his eye faded and his complexion turned an ashen pale. Before you could comprehend what was happening, a low chuckle echoed through the dimly lit room.

Sylus’s chuckle. He was alive. Wait, what the hell?

His laughter grew more vibrant with each passing second as he took in your horrified expression. You shot your hand out again, daring to touch him, but he caught your wrist, tossing it aside with ease.

“Ravishing…” he breathed, his eyes darkening to a richer shade.

You watched him for a moment, trying to make sense of everything that had unfolded in the past few hours, until suddenly, everything clicked into place.

You gasped.

“You fucking bastard!” you shouted, fury igniting in your voice. “Is this why you didn’t take the protocores? Is this why you asked for me?”

Sylus’s arrogant smirk returned, dominating his features. “He wasn’t aware of the precious possession he had in his own house, sweetie. But I am.”

“You are… sick.” The expression on his face darkened, and something twisted in your gut, though you wished it was anything but excitement at his subtle praise. “You will not control me. I belong to no one.”

“Oh, kitten, I’m not trying to control you. This is just… a deal.” His eyebrows shot up, his face tilting slightly to the side as if he found your defiance amusing. “Isn’t business what you excel at? Or do you want me to believe it was Dante who called the shots?”

Your own expression faltered, but your body began to relax atop his, a fact he noted with a small, apprehensive smile that curled at his lips. “Are you trying to extract intel from me?”

He rolled his eyes at your tactics, a playful smirk on his face. “You are so gullible, kitten.”

He leaned in impossibly close, your breath catching in your throat and a shiver coursing through you as your body responded to his proximity. This was all so wrong.

“He didn’t value you nearly enough, sweetie,” Sylus whispered against your pulse, his warm breath sending a jolt through you. “But I can.” His teeth grazed your throat, and as your mouth opened, no sound dared to escape your lips.

“I…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I have no idea what—”

In one swift movement, you found yourself perched on the edge of the chair, Sylus looming over you like a consuming inferno. Your chests were nearly touching, and his eyes held a dangerous allure as he stared directly into your own. “I believe you do.”

His hand drifted from beside your head, descending to your collarbone as his fingertips caressed the delicate skin with a featherlight touch. “You can end someone with just a touch…” he whispered against your neck, and you had to fight against the electric shivers coursing through your body. “I am the only person you can’t kill, even if you tried, kitten.”

Your mind was slowly turning to mush as his hand roamed over the sensitive swell of your breasts, his lips planting tender kisses against your throat. “Don’t you see where I’m going with this? We’re meant for each other. Kindred spirits.”

“You’re insane,” you wanted to accuse him, but your voice came out breathless, betraying your mounting desire. A soft grunt escaped his lips, a sound that only fueled the tension between you.

“If I’m insane, what does that say about you, sweetie?” He began kissing his way down from your neck to your collarbone, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I can smell your arousal from up here.”

You gasped at his bold accusation, your body jerking in response, but it only heightened the sensation as your clothed core pressed against his torso. You tensed, and his lips curled into a dangerous smirk. “So insatiable…”

“This is so wrong…”

“I’ve never been a righteous man.”

You leaned back instinctively, your hands reaching out as if to find comfort around his neck, but he halted your movement just before contact.

In your hazy state, you noticed him licking his lips, his gaze searching the floor for something—your glove.

“As much as I can’t think of another way to go, I’d prefer to be fully conscious when your pretty cunt is all over my mouth.”

“You’re… outrageous,” your voice faltered, betraying the rush of emotions coursing through you. Your body reacted in ways that contradicted your words.

“Do you prefer gentle, kitten?” Sylus asked, his fingers teasingly tugging at the neckline of your dress, unveiling your flushed skin. His tongue flicked over your right nipple, while his other hand caressed the neglected one. “Would you rather I whisper sweet nothings and cherish you gently?”

His tone dripped with playful mockery, and you arched your back, responding instinctively to his touch and taunting words.

“Would you like me to take it slow? To tell you how beautiful you are?” he teased, his laughter rumbling softly in the air.

Your resolve crumbled as he nipped at your sensitive bud, his hand expertly working the other. “No!” you moaned, your gloved fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, caught in the intoxicating desire in the air.

He growled against your chest, his body pressing forcefully against your legs as they parted to accommodate him. He felt a thrill of compliance wash over you, nearly tempting him to follow through on his suggestion to take it easy.

“More,” you demanded, your fingers tugging insistently at his head, guiding him downward to where your dress had pooled around your waist, leaving your red lace panties tantalizingly exposed.

Sylus grinned at your eagerness, his gaze lingering on your clothed cunt. “God, kitten…” he grunted, pressing his nose against the damp spot on your panties, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks as a thrill of shame coursed through you. “Did you wear my favorite color on purpose?”

His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Or did you wear it for him?”

You could only whimper in response, arching your body desperately to bring his face where you craved it most. Instead, a sharp sting greeted your cunt, your eyes widening as a gasp of surprise escaped your lips.

He slapped your pussy again, his expression darkening into a scowl. “Answer me, kitten. Did you get all dolled up for him?”

You clenched around nothing, the possessiveness in his tone igniting a deeper need within you. “No,” you whimpered softly. “It wasn’t for him.”

In an instant, he tore your panties away, his mouth descending on your cunt, his tongue skillfully lapping at your folds. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

Your fingers clawed at his shoulder, sounds of pleasure escaping you uncontrollably as he toyed with your sensitive clit. “Such a sweet pussy,” he grunted against your core, sending shivers through your body. You slid down the chair, his face pressed firmly against you, your lower body lifted almost into the air. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, hoisting your legs over his shoulders as he devoured you.

“Say my name, kitten.”

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, already giving him too much. “N-no.”

His teeth grazed your clit, sending waves of pleasure and frustration coursing through you as he slid one finger against your entrance, teasingly. “No?”

“No.” Your voice trembled, betraying the mix of emotions swelling within you as you neared your release with each stroke of his tongue, yet your stubbornness held firm.

“Very well, then.” In an instant, his mouth was gone, leaving you feeling cold and exposed as he stood to his full height.

“What…?”

Sylus leaned over you again, delivering a sharp slap to the side of your breasts that made you squirm and gasp. “This is my zone. My side of the board. Here, you either play by my rules and win, or you go against me and lose.” His voice was low and commanding as his hand reached down again, sliding two fingers inside you, curling them to find your sweet spot. “What will it be, kitten?”

By this point, your entire body felt like it belonged to someone else. “Please…” Your voice was laced with desperation, the plea spilling from your lips, unrecognizable even to you.

“Please what? Just say it, sweetie,” he urged, a teasing glint in his eyes.

His fingers quickened their pace, and your legs trembled under the mounting pleasure, each mewl that escaped your lips a symphony to his ears. “So—Oh my god… S-so close.”

The moment he sensed your walls beginning to clench around his fingers, a satisfied smile crept across his face, and you returned it through a haze of bliss—until you felt him start to withdraw.

Your hand shot out, wrapping around his wrist with a desperate grip, pulling him back toward you. “Sylus!” you cried, your stomach twisting in knots as sweet release threatened to crash over you.

“Sylus, yes, oh my god, yes…” You were barely coherent, the words tumbling from your mouth, but Sylus grunted, his pants taut against his rock-hard cock.

“That’s it… That’s it, sweetie, I know. Drench my fingers; they’re all yours.” He moved with an urgency that took your breath away, thrusting deeply inside you, sending shivers through your entire body as you rode the wave of your climax.

You panted, your chest rising and falling heavily. As the haze began to lift, your mouth fell open in awe, watching Sylus suckle on his fingers, his eyes glowing with satisfaction as he savored your essence.

A fresh wave of slickness coated your folds, and Sylus cursed under his breath as he stood, taking you with him. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your bare, wet cunt smearing against the fabric of his pants, leaving a tantalizing mess.

The coarse material of his attire heightened your senses, making your body arch in his arms as you ground your hips down, chasing that blissful friction.

“So eager…” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin before he nipped at your earlobe. “And so fucking wet.” He strode toward his desk just a few feet away, easing you onto your feet. “I’m going to devour you.”

In one swift motion, your belly pressed against the polished surface of his mahogany desk, your body bent over, your ass perfectly positioned for him. He didn’t allow you a moment to breathe before two sharp slaps landed on your cheeks, your body jolting forward in response.

Your moans filled the air, driving him wild, and the way your back arched instinctively shattered any semblance of his control.

You heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper, and a thrill raced through you as his cock was freed from its confines, teasingly brushing against your entrance.

Turning your head over your shoulder, your eyes fell on him, and a rush of desire coursed through you. He was enormous, his veins prominent and pulsing, the tip glistening with precum that trickled down, landing directly on your cunt.

“Sylus…” You brought his attention back to you, and the look on your face made his brows knot slightly in concern.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” he asked, his voice thick with lust yet surprisingly calm. “Do you want me to stop?”

You placed your hand lightly against his abdomen, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, and shook your head. “No, it’s just…” Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, almost mirroring the color of his eyes. “It’s not going to fit.”

Sylus paused, momentarily dumbfounded, before releasing the breath he had been holding along with a low chuckle. “We’re going to make it fit, kitten.”

Skepticism flickered in your eyes, and he noticed.

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” You answered honestly. He had been your rival until now, and you couldn’t fully grasp how your dynamic had shifted to this moment, you bent over his desk, spread  and exposed.

He grinned, shaking his head in amusement. “You shouldn’t.”

In one powerful thrust, he was inside you, and your eyes rolled back in your head as pleasure surged through your body, overwhelming your senses.

“Fuck!” you cried out, but there was no pain—he seemed to know exactly how to plunge into you.

“Shit… You’re so tight,” Sylus growled, his hips slapping against yours as he took you roughly, driving deep against the surface of his desk. “It would’ve hurt more if I’d taken it slow, sweetie.”

It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to speak, but even if he could, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your mind was consumed with the exquisite fullness of his cock filling you completely.

Your eyes crossed as he continued to thrust in and out, your lips parted in a silent gasp, drool escaping the corner of your mouth and trickling down to the polished surface of his desk.

“Cock-hungry little whore,” he grunted, folding his body over yours to penetrate you even deeper. “And you claim you hate me.”

“I d-do,” you managed to moan, your legs trembling from the intensity of the sensations.

“You hate me, yet your sweet cunt is squeezing my cock like it’s her lover.”

Your mewls and whimpers grew louder with each thrust, your head spinning from the overwhelming pleasure. “Sylus…” you moaned his name, urging him onward toward his own release.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I-I’m… s’close. So so close.” Tears were welling up in your eyes, and Sylus moaned deeply behind you as he felt your cunt squeezing him, clenching around him like he belonged there. Because he did. 

His hand shot up, wrapping around your throat as he kept pounding you from behind, his whole desk shaking from the force of his thrusts. You were sure a bruise would form on your abdomen where it made contact with the wood. 

Your eyes rolled as he applied more pressure, making it difficult for you to breathe. “Such a pretty kitten…” He moaned in your ear. “And now she’s collared. As she should be.”

Your orgasm broke through you with a new force, the tears escaping your eyes and your cries lulling Sylus to fall on his own release right after you.

“Fuck.” He moaned, his teeth clamping down on your shoulder. Rope after rope of cum filled your cunt, his thighs shaking slightly from behind you as he emptied himself inside you. 

You were so overstimulated and sensitive by your encounter when Sylus caught his dripping cum from your thighs and pushed it right back in.

Your legs threatened to give out, your mind clouding the moment he began to fill you with his seed once more. “Such a pretty cunt, used and bred by me,” Sylus murmured, his voice low and possessive. “What will your boss say when my kids are running around his base, huh?”

You weren’t even aware of how or when it happened, but suddenly you were moaning his name, sweet and desperate, as you drenched him once again. This time, the force of your release was blinding, your vision fading to a brilliant white.

Confused, you turned to see Sylus, his abdomen glistening with your essence, his fingers slick and dripping as he stared at you with a manic edge in his eyes.

“Oh my God…” Heat rushed to your cheeks as the realization of what you had just done washed over you. “I’m sorry… Sylus, I’m—”

Before you could finish, his hand pressed firmly against your lower back, forcing you back into position as you tried to shrink away from his gaze. “Kitten…” His voice was taut, barely contained. “We’re not leaving this room until you do this again.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

pairing: Gwayne x fiancé reader

summary: Gwayne may have lost the tourney, but he gained a better prize.

tags: female reader, reader is from the Reach, heterosexual relationship, hand job, mentions of injury, subtle Gwayne daddy issues (not sexy, just Gwayne being Gwayne), Gwayne being a simp for his lady

-----------------------------♟️----------------------------------

When Gwayne told his father one day, at about the age of six, that he was going to take up the sword and learn to be a knight, all his father said was, “are you sure?”

His opinion on the announcement did not seem to sway one way or another, much like his opinion on the actual son. Their lady mother had given him an heir, a spare, a daughter, and Gwayne. His brothers would be learned men like their father, so Gwayne thought he could be useful by being a marshal man for his family. He was actually quite good at it too. All of his instructors said so. His training partners. The men of their House bannermen.

But no one would know that now as Gwayne was quickly unseated in the first round of the tournament. A lucky shot. Luckier still as it could have been fatal, but instead just a wound to his left side and pride. To fall in front of his father and beloved sister wounded him still.

Gwayne had taken what was left of his pride and limped off the tourney grounds. Making it to an awaiting sick bay as injuries in tournaments were more common than not. He had to be stripped out of his armor like a pleb. Been tended to like an invalid while he grit his teeth and let the maester wrap his broken ribs. Just the one, actually. But it was enough to knock him out of the tournament for the rest of the week.

He sighed and rested his head against the headboard. All he wanted was to show his family that his efforts had not been in vain. To show them what he was working so hard for while they were in the Capital. Now he would have to wait for the next tournament. If his father even bothered to show up.

“Gwayne?” The knight looked up from his self-pity musing at the door and found his fiancé there. In his pain and grief over his disappointing show, he had completely forgotten she had been in the crowd too. Wonderful. Another beloved to witness his failure. “Are you alright? That fall…it looked rather nasty…”

“It wasn’t ideal.” He winced as he tried to move his arm to pull his shirt on. Finding it immodest to be in just bandages in front of a lady. She came to his side instantly, helping him pull his arm through with as little discomfort as possible. “Sorry you came all this way to witness such a poor showing. Or waste your favor.”

“It is not a waste Gwayne. Do not say such things.”

Gwayne reached in his pocket and pulled her ribbon from his trousers. She had given it to him the night before, in private, wishing him good fortune & safety in the events to come. He had had it in his breastplate when the games started, and squirrel it away into his pocket after he was injured so it wouldn’t be thrown away. “You should give it to a better knight then I. I’m done for.”

“You fell off a horse Gwayne, not the edge of the world.” She told him. “And, there is no better knight than you for me.” She pushed her offered ribbon back at him with a stern look. “If you keep speaking this way, I shall have to give back your favor and return to the Reach.”

His eyes lit up in alarm. Knowing that she meant his ring, and he could not have that. “Alright. I’m sorry.” To lose the tournament was one thing, but to lose her. Gwayne couldn’t stand it.

She smiled at him. Seeming pleased that he had gotten the hint on not being so hard on himself, and looked around quickly before she leaned in for a kiss. “I know you’re disappointed. But you’re alive and relatively unscathed.”

“And handsome.” He quipped back as he was starting to feel in good spirits. “Do not forget that.”

“Oh, how could I.” His beguiling fiancé leaned in to kiss him again. Longer this time. “Thank the Gods for fine helmets.”

It took Gwayne’s brain a bit to catch on that her hands were moving around his waist band. Perhaps it was the loss of air from their kissing. Or that his bell got run pretty hard in the fall and he was still recovering. Or perhaps still it was simply just her. But he caught on just about the time the cool air brushed against his nether regions, and he sprung up. “What are you doing?” He asked. His back teeth setting against the pain of his sudden movement as he fretfully looked over towards the door.

“Helping you relax.” She replied with some cheek. “I heard the maesters say you needed to do that and rest if you were to heal.”

“And you think undressing me in a room where just anyone could walk in is going to help me relax??”

“Well, no. Perhaps not that part.” Gwayne wheezed in a breath, as much as his battered ribs would allow, when she reached in and took hold of him. “But this part might.”

Gwayne knew not the touch of another, save his own hand. Though he took no vow like the King’s Guard when he became a knight, he had made a personal vow that he would be stalwart in his honor & practice. Dutiful to his House as to not sully it by laying Flowers at their doors. He does not ask how his future wife knew of such things. In all honesty, he did not want to know. All he could think about in that moment, after the shock and panic of getting caught, was how good her soft hand felt around his cock.

His member hardened quickly under her touch. Gwayne was still a young, virile man, with adrenaline still lingering in his veins, a strong breeze could get him up. He moaned quietly as his lady’s hand stroked him. Long steady pulls of her hand up & down. Watching as he was transfixed by this surreal experience that was happening to him.

“Does it feel good my love?” Gwayne nodded. His lord’s education failing him as he could not articulate in this moment how good it felt. “Good. I want to know how you like it, so I can prepare for our wedding night.” He moaned, or perhaps whimpered, at the thought. Just another 3 months. Just another 3 months and she would be his wife, and he would have her all to himself. Her body, her mind, her heart; though she had been clear that he already had the latter two. His hips bucked up at the thought of her beneath him and Gwayne let out a sharp cry that was crossed between one of pleasure & pain as his ribs were jostled again. Then he heard a flurry of scurried motion behind the door.

Panick set in, the fear of getting caught welling up inside him. Not just for himself but her as well. How would they explain such lewd behavior if they were caught? Her reputation would be besmirched. His father might call off the engagement in the face of such scandal!

Luckily his wife to be was not only beautiful but clever. Like all fine roses of the Reach. She quickly pulled a blanket over his midsection and placed their hands together over the spot where the obvious tenting would be. “Forgive me, my lady. I thought I heard his lordship call for help.”

“Such a steward of care you are, Maester Callen.” Her voice was sweet, complimentary, and hypnotic to Gwayne. “Just a twinge of the ribs from a sudden movement. The injury is new. Our silly Ser must have forgotten he had it for a moment.” Gwayne swallowed as her little finger brushed against the outline of him through the blankets. His jaw having to set as to not moan in a very indiscrete way in from of the maester.

“Are you sure he is alright?” Maester Callen asked. A curious look all men of learning seemed to get when they asked questions. “Your lordship looks feverish. There could be an underlying infection from the trauma—“I’m fine.” Gwayne barked quickly. His noble resolve hanging on by a thread thinner than this blanket. “I just need rest, as you said. Please,” ‘oh Gods, please, please, please!’ he thought as his lady continued to stroke him with just the finest touch to the point of madness this whole time, “leave us so I might finish my conversation with my lady and be about that.”

The maester seemed still curious, but asked no further questions. He bowed his head, then closed the door behind him as he left. “Good Gods….!” Gwayne hissed through his teeth as he writhed freely now that they were alone again.

“That was a close one.”

“You insufferable minx!” He hissed at her. That cheeky grin on her face was infuriating but also the vision from his dreams. “You nearly got us caught!”

“I’m not the one who inadvertently called him in here, now did I my love?” Gwayne had a few more sharp words for her but they all vanished as her hand pulled back the blanket again and stroked him fully.

His head tilted back with a moan. The fear of almost being caught, damning though it would be, had only heightened the sensation. He warned her that he was close, not sure if she knew what that meant, and let her swallow his final moans in a kiss as he came all over her hand and his linen dressings. She let him go, a soft kiss on his lips like a seal before she pulled away, and he slumped back against the bed like a witless fool.

“There. Now you can relax & rest completely, my love.” Gwayne nodded. Not sure what she was talking about right now, but rest sounded nice right now. “I shall come to see you tomorrow once they move you back to your quarters. We’ll have the whole afternoon to ourselves, since everyone will at the tournament.” Oh right. The tournament. He was supposed to apart of that. Showing his family & father how much he had trained for them. It suddenly didn’t seem all that important anymore. “Get better, my love.”

She kissed him one last time and then saw herself out. The picture of civility and the dutiful fiancé come to shower well wishes on her mate to be. No one knew, or would know, what had happened between them. Gwayne felt his spent cock twitch a little as he watched her walk away. Just 3 more months. Just 3 more months felt like an eternity all of a sudden.

[aventurineswife]

ASKING THE HSR MEN IF THEY WOULD LIVE US EVEN IF WE'RE A WORM (can be anyone you prefer!)

“Would you still love me I was a worm?”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Fluff, Humor, Lighthearted, Teasing, Playful Banter, Romantic Undertones, Affectionate, Wholesome.

You looked up at Aventurine, his ever-present smile gleaming in the soft light as he leaned casually against the wall, watching you with those unnervingly captivating eyes. A playful grin tugged at your lips as you asked, your voice teasing, "Aventurine, would you still love me if I were a worm?"

Aventurine's smirk widened, the gleam in his eyes showing amusement and intrigue. He tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating the idea, his fingers lightly tapping against the surface in front of him. "A worm, huh?" he mused, his voice smooth like velvet. "I'd imagine you'd be quite a resourceful little creature, slipping through cracks and corners, thriving in the shadows. It's not about what you are—it's about the game you're playing."

His eyes softened for a brief second, though the mischievous glint never left. "So, yes," he replied with an almost teasing tone, "I suppose I would still love you—worm or not. You'd still be the most interesting gamble I'd ever take."

You laughed, but beneath his playful words, you could sense the hidden truth—he had learned long ago to see potential in the most unexpected places, and even as a worm, you'd never escape his sharp gaze.

You watched Sunday with an amused smile as you posed the question, your voice light but full of curiosity, "Sunday, would you still love me if I were a worm?"

Sunday blinked, his eyes narrowing slightly as if you had just asked him to solve a great cosmic mystery. The gentle flutter of his feathered wings behind his ears was the only movement that gave away his surprise. He tilted his head, his halo glinting as it swirled with the light. "A worm?" he repeated softly, his voice thoughtful.

He closed his eyes briefly, his golden pupils shimmering with reflection. "If you were a worm," he began, his voice carrying a gentle weight, "you would still hold value, even in such a humble form. Perhaps, I would admire your resilience... your ability to find peace in simplicity."

There was a pause, the soft flutter of his wings seeming to hum with quiet contemplation. "In the end, it is not the form we take that matters, but the hearts we carry within us. Yes," he added, a serene smile tugging at his lips, "I would still love you."

His answer wasn't just a promise—it was an affirmation of everything he believed in. No matter what you became, you would always be deserving of love, and he would be there, quietly supportive as ever.

Jing Yuan, ever the composed figure, was lounging lazily in his chair, his eyes half-lidded as he sipped from a cup of tea. You tilted your head, the mischievous glint in your eyes clearly catching his attention. "Jing Yuan," you asked with a playful smile, "would you still love me if I were a worm?"

Jing Yuan didn't immediately respond. Instead, he lowered the cup from his lips and regarded you with an almost amused gaze, his sharp golden eyes scanning your face for any sign of trickery. "A worm, you say?" His voice was slow and deliberate, as though carefully weighing his answer. "Well, that would be quite the sight."

He leaned back, his long hair swishing slightly as he did, clearly more relaxed than most would be in the face of such a strange question. "I suppose," he began, "that it would depend on the circumstances. A worm may not offer much in the way of conversation or... companionship." His gaze softened, the teasing smile on his lips betraying his usual calm.

"But, knowing you," he added, a small, knowing smile creeping into his expression, "even as a worm, you'd find a way to make life interesting." He paused, then added, a hint of warmth in his voice, "So yes, I think I could still love you—worm or not. After all, you're hardly ever just what you seem."

He returned to his tea, as though the conversation had never interrupted his thoughts, yet the small, tender smile on his lips suggested something far deeper than simple amusement.

[sun-and-flames]

A Rising Dawn - Chapter 1

Mydei x (female) Reader

Fic Rating: Mature (will change for a later chapter)

Chapter Length: 4.5k

Fic Status: Ongoing

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Learning to Trust, Sweet, Wholesome, basically no angst, no use of y/n, smut in a later chapter, set before the events of 3.0

Author's Notes: This entire fic was supposed to be a long one-shot with a lot of scenes that made it seem like a montage. It turned out much longer than anticipated, though, so I'm splitting it up. We're gonna end up with probably around 30k words altogether. Anyway, this fic is really dear to me, so I hope you'll like it <3

AO3 Link

Summary: In the Holy City, daily life remained the same for the citizens despite the threat of the Black Tide lurking beyond the city's borders.

But sometimes, a brief encounter can bring about a new dawn for its residents. Chrysos Heirs and regular citizens alike.

Even more so when the Golden Thread has tied your fates together a long time ago.

The breeze remained subtle on this early Entry Hour in the streets of Okhema, the air crisp and clean while carrying a hint of something vaguely floral as Kephale’s light flooded the streets.

Nothing truly changed. People went about their daily lives, working and striving for tomorrow, not knowing how many days there were still to come.

While Mydei appreciated the constant, the sense of peace and normality the people - his people among them - found within these streets, the lack of change, of feeling rooted in place unable to move forwards, always left a bitter taste in his mouth that not even the blessings of Phagousa could wash off.

Few duties waited for him that day. Attending Lady Tribios’s class, following up with a Kremnoan young man who had asked for his assistance some days ago, and patrol duty during Parting Hour.

He hoped during patrol he could get rid of the itch in his veins. Though, at these times, maddened Titankin were not a rarity to find in the outskirts of Okhema.

Until then, ample time to ponder and look after his detachment.

Marmoreal Market buzzed with life. The scent of fresh fruits mixed with the aroma of freshly baked bread as the stalls and shops came to life and greeted the people as they began their daily lives in the city.

Even at this hour, Marmoreal Diner was crowded, people waiting in line for a seat or a special breakfast to take home with them. He spotted some Kremnoans among them and he couldn’t fault them. Kyros’s offered the best bread and olive oil in all of Okhema if one did not have the muse to make it from scratch themselves.

While Mydei didn’t favor the crowds around here, the lively atmosphere stirred something within him. He saw the smiles on people’s faces, the excitement of children frolicking about, the relief of the employee’s as they continued - that they could continue- business yet another day.

Laughter and joy.

Fun.

Rare as it was to come across during these dire times, a part of himself - hidden behind walls of duties and responsibilities and questions no one else but him should deal with and which kept him away day in and day out - longed to engage in it all the same.

He knew his place.

In this town.

For the Kremnoan people.

In the Flame-Chase Journey.

People passed him by as he crossed the street, some greeted him, some acknowledged him, others avoided him. All the same, another constant in the Holy City. It mattered not but he greeted them back with a nod, spared words only for the little children that brushed past him as they indulged in their games.

The Fruit and Veg Store invited everyone with fresh and colorful fruits displayed on plates and in bowls that made them look like a painting come alive rather than real food. One didn’t have to know their way around vegetables and fruits to recognize the quality and care Demetria, the store owner, put into her work.

The elderly lady chatted with a customer, handling the balance coins on the scale with a cheerful smile on her face.

Though the deep red and luscious pomegranates, resting in bronze-colored bowls on a long table behind Demetria caught his gaze more so than the rest of the produce or the people surrounding the store.

Until a hand appeared on one of the fruits disrupted his staring.

As he followed the hand, delicate and too small to grab the fruit with one hand, up a slender arm, he saw you.

Your face remained calm. The focus on your work simmered in your gaze, but it did not show in the curve of your brows or the line of your mouth. You placed two of the pomegranates in a little basket, where they joined an array of apples, before you put the basket on the small table next to Demetria.

You retreated into the back of the store immediately, working on arranging the fruits and vegetables with a care to avoid damaging them that looked as meticulous as devoted to your task as Mydei was used to see from Demetria. Surrounded by the shelves and tables, the crowd in Marmoreal Market didn’t reach you as you kept working, wiping your hands on your apron when the warm air around you showed itself on your skin.

Why his gaze lingered, he could not tell.

Maybe because he frequented the store so often and he’s never seen you before? A relative of the store owner? Simply a new employee? Maybe because such little changes occurred so rarely in the daily lives of Okheman’s these days that it caught a person’s eye naturally so?

Maybe because a spark in the back of his mind whispered that you seemed familiar to him, though the thought sounded odd, so Mydei dismissed it and continued on his way.

His gaze didn’t find yours nor did it linger on you again when he bought his own pomegranates and indulged the store owner in the smalltalk she so enjoyed engaging in.

———————

Mydei spotted you at the store almost regularly after that first vague encounter. You tended to the fruits and vegetables in the back of the store, focused and not paying much attention to the crowds and buzz around you. Colorful patches stained the white apron you wore over your dress. Mydei couldn’t help but think they made you look more like an artist spending your time painting and drawing but not arranging and selling fruits.

The only time you came out from the back was when you placed a customer’s order on the table by the owner’s side, only to retreat again.

A peculiar nature given you found yourself in the busiest place of all of Okhema.

When Mydei approached the store days later again, Demetria thanked him for his patronage as she usually did but spared him the smalltalk. Too many customers, too much money to make. Despite her kindness and dedication she was a business lady through and through.

He didn’t mind. The sooner his order got processed the earlier he could leave the store and avoid the gazes he drew whenever he made his way here. He crossed his arms in front of his chest while he waited.

Neither a word left your lips nor did any hesitation appear in your steps, even though he caught a flash of something - recognition? Remembrance? - cross your eyes as you threw a glimpse up at him when you approached the store’s front with a bag in your hands.

You placed the bag on the small table next to Demetria. Mydei leaned down to pick it up before you managed to pull back again. Your fingers still lingered on the bag when he grabbed it and the flash of panic on your face made him frown.

No physical contact, no skin on skin, not the metal of his gauntlets on your skin, not even fabrics brushing and yet your hands recoiled as if you got burned by the flames of Kremnos’s Soul-Forging Zone.

That terror-stricken expression faded an instant later and you tried to hide the trembling of your hands by clasping them together in front of you.

Mydei watched you with a frown on his face, gaze hard and his mouth a straight line, as you bowed slightly - an instinct to remain respectful to your customer? - and retreated back into the store as if you found safety there. Safety from him.

People being intimidated - scared - by him was not an all too rare occurrence. He was aware to be not the most approachable man, people never shook his hand in greeting, many cowered at the mere sight of him - the Kremnoan beast, a brute. Not something he cared about much, but it has been a long time since anyone has been this blatant in their display of it in front of him.

He didn’t comment on it. The paper of the bag crackled in his his grasp as he left the store and crowded area of the Holy City.

And yet, as he crossed Marmoreal Market in the Parting Hour on his way home many hours later and his eyes fell upon the closed store, he couldn’t help but wonder what your issue has been.

Prejudices still prevailed to this day and their eradication has been everything he has striven for since he and the Kremnoan detachment joined Okhema.

He tended to overthink these things a lot, he knew that.

But if anything, his time here has proven him that his concern and wariness was justified. His first months and years in this city have been plagued by preventing assassinations - on children - of his people, by witnessing discriminations in his people’s everyday lives and filing complaints and seeking audiences with the Council. While the situation has improved, notably when Lady Aglaea handled matters herself, these bad clouds lingered in the corners of the streets still.

Was that what it was for you? A prejudice? Or had it nothing to do with his heritage and origin at all?

He made a small sound in the back of his throat and averted his gaze.

Yes, he tended to overthink these things a lot.

———————

His duties and missions as a Chrysos Heir kept him away from the city for a few days but when he returned, nothing has changed.

A pleasant outcome, one would say. Given the impending catastrophe, to see the people buzzing and thriving despite the situation in the dark outside of Okhema was… relieving.

Yet, it also showed a lack of progress on this tedious and long-lasting journey. Castrum Kremnos still remained lost in the fog, Nikador’s Titankin have been driven further towards Okhema in their madness. The safety he sought for his people in this city was as fragile as glass…

Mydei’s hand clenched into a fist, though he released the tension the moment he stepped into the streets. It wasn’t his place to reveal his frustrations to the people when they deemed them the only glimmer of hope this world had left.

Marmoreal Market came into view and the scent of Golden Honeycakes and freshly cut fruits reached his nose before he even rounded the corner.

A part of him tingled, arose that desire to indulge in the joys the pancakes could provide temporarily, though he had no time for it. He needed to report his mission’s results to Aglaea and then a hot bath would do wonders for his muscles after spending so much time in the Evernight of Amphoreus.

A pomegranate in-between duties had to make due for now. It’s been a few days since he’s had one and waiting until tomorrow was not worth it just so he could prepare juice from it.

And pre-made juice didn’t scratch that craving in his soul for it.

He saw you at the store, but instead of your usual spot in the back you stood by the side of the store, a small group of kids surrounding you. All talking over each other with big eyes and smiles as if they all had to tell you they’ve seen or experienced the most amazing thing today while you were at work.

You were talking to them. He couldn’t make out any words in the chatter and laughter but your face remained calm, a gentle smile as you engaged with them. Whatever was happening this wasn’t the first time you dealt with these children.

Not a scene he expected to witness.

Yours, perhaps?

Though he didn’t deem you old enough to have children of that age yet. He paused that thought. Lady Tribios came to mind and he almost grimaced at himself.

Looking young didn’t mean a lot in Amphoreus while demigoods existed.

Mydei approached Demetria but his gaze didn’t leave those kids surrounding you. He watched how you took off your apron and placed it in a box in the back of the store, all the while not ceasing to talk to the children who not once lost an ounce of their energy and cheerfulness.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Demetria,” you said and it was the first time he heard your voice. Clear and tinged with the contagious laughter of the boys and girls eagerly waiting for you. Pleasant.

“Take care, dear,” the old lady said and she watched how you left with the kids until you vanished around the street corner. Mydei followed your form as well. Once the chatter of the children faded, Marmoreal Market seemed strangely empty.

Demetria sighed, a content smile on her lips. Mydei didn’t say a word. He knew the store owner was about to share her thoughts with him as she often did with customers anyway.

“Endearing, is it not?” she asked. “These kids pick her up from work a lot.”

“These? So not hers?” he asked before he could stop himself. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Oh no, no.” Demetria laughed as if Mydei had told her a joke.

“Then, who are they?” he asked. If only to satiate the owner’s need for conversation - not to quell some curiosity of his own. Undoubtedly not.

“Orphans, mostly. They almost all lost their parents to the war in one way or another.” Demetria’s smile grew smaller, weighed down with the mourning and grief of remembering the tragedies she’s no doubt experienced over the years herself. “She gives them a chance to come together and have some fun once she’s done with her wok.”

Demetria looked up at him and he met the elderly woman’s gaze. “Children should never be the ones to suffer the consequences of the adults’ actions.”

“Indeed.”

Children should not suffer. They shouldn’t have to pay the price for the failures and mistakes of their parents and adults who failed to protect them and willfully put them through pain and misery for their own selfish gains.

His jaw clenched and he found it difficult to relax. He hoped the elderly woman remained ignorant to the sudden tension in his body.

He could still recall.

The cold and might of the water, of his father and his guards blurring and then fading from view as the depths grabbed a hold of him from the neverending abyss, engulfing him, suffocating him until he drew a new breath - painful, agonizing - and started the cycle anew.

Young as he had been - an infant - yet that image stayed vivid in his mind until this day.

He closed his eyes for a moment to shake off the memory. It didn’t leave. It remained in the back of his mind like waves crashing against a cliff. He forced himself to look ahead, down the street where you had left with the kids.

Admirable. Regardless of that first and odd impression of you, what you were doing deserved his respect.

After tending to his remaining duties for the day and while on his way to finally have that hot bath, he crossed Kephale Plaza. At this hour of day it grew quieter with less people gathering here, though a group of children would always drown out any other noise.

You sat on the small wall in front of the trees and flowers, girls and boys in front of you. There were more now than before. They didn’t hang on every word you said, more did they appear to be busy with each other, chatting and playing, while running up to you to let you know something or to drag you into their games.

Your smile never wavered.

Nor did that expression on your face.

Serene. Content. Happy.

No matter the reasons for why you were doing this, dedicating your time and efforts to children you perhaps did not even know, you enjoyed it. The appreciation for such an act of kindness - altruism - towards children flourished among the flames and burning blood surging through his veins, showing only in the vague upwards twitch of his lips.

Mydei didn’t linger as he passed the plaza.

———————

Seeing you at the store has become a regular occurrence, Demetria employed you after all.

What he didn’t come to expect was to see two Kremnoan children at the store. He’s seen them before. No orphans, both their parents were alive and warriors of Kremnos - no, Okhema - and people he valued. He’s played with these two kids before. The boy liked to train, asked for Mydei’s approval all the time, the girl took more after the Okheman’s, she danced and sang, playing around the theater all the time but wasn’t opposed to fighting either.

He didn’t expect to see them - two Kremnoan kids - here. Not after his first impression of you, writing off your reaction to prejudice - intimidation - as there were no Kremnoan kids in the group the other day either.

He stayed back, opted to observe rather than engage and allowed his curiosity to rule his actions.

The children lingered by the side of the store, fidgeting - eager and excited - as they stretched their necks to see into the store to watch what you were doing.

He tilted his head. You balanced a pomegranate in one hand, a knife in the other. This wasn’t your first time cutting one. The cuts were deliberate, the pressure rooted in experience - as expected from someone who made fruits their income. The deep red seeds anything but glowed in your hand, even from a distance he could make them out, a reminder why he only ever purchased them at this store.

You threw parts of the peel away and took the open fruit to the boy and the girl who waited for you as if expecting birthday gifts. As they popped the seeds into their mouths they talked to you. All their words - and your replies - got lost in the sea of voices flooding the market but the children’s smiles sounded as loud as the songs of victory after the Kremnoan army returned home from battle.

He smiled at the scene.

Witnessing their happiness came akin to a small victory indeed. A little - but precious nonetheless - moment to show him that the decision he’s made a long time ago has been the right one after all.

You ruffled the boy’s hair - to which he pouted and stemmed his hands in his hips - and after a few more exchanged words, the kids turned around and left, waving and laughing. You waved after them before retreating back into the store, a subtle smile on your lips, though a hint of something - amusement? Surprise? Approval? - sprouted in his chest when you popped a few of the remaining pomegranate seeds into your own mouth before you discarded the remains in the trash.

———————

There were days when the Fruit and Veg store found itself flooded by customers. More so than usual. Mydei came to know this always happened when the seasons changed or after the weekly delivery arrived.

Such as today.

Demetria never lost her smile as she dealt with customer after customer. Neither did you, even though you barely ever came out from the back of the store, opting to prepare the baskets and bags of orders and place them on the ground and table next to the owner for further handling.

It was then that he noticed how you avoided any contact to anyone. Not just avoided. You made an effort to not even allow your dress to brush along the clothes of a customer, not even Demetria herself. He frowned and yet, it rendered his first impression of you utterly void.

He didn’t dwell on the thought, it was stupid to begin with - too much overthinking, maybe a premature judgment of his own - but he couldn’t help but to feel… at ease anyway.

It, however, didn’t explain why you were going out of your way to avoid physical contact.

Mydei was reluctant to it himself, but - the battlefield aside - in the crowds of a city one could not avoid running into people, brushing up against them.

Your behavior at least looked unusual enough to make him pause, to make him think.

And he had no idea why he even pondered the reasons at all.

Mydei approached the store, got in line as any other citizen. He easily towered over the others, and the quiet mumbling of people around him reached his ears. He paid them no mind as he waited.

After another customer left, Demetria turned around to you and called out your name - the sound of it repeated in his head as if it was somehow important information - and you looked up from where you were gathering apples from the bowls as if surprised anyone required your attention. Amusing. Especially when you were working.

“Dear, please help out here for a bit,” Demetria said, a chuckle accompanying her words. “We have a lot of customers today.”

You didn’t hesitate to follow her request, though you fidgeted a whole lot more as you stood next to her and took orders as the owner herself did. Your smile polite, the curve of your brows soft, your shoulders lowered.

Only the subtle trembling of your hands revealed your anxiety at the risk of facing physical contact - voluntarily or not - by working in the front of the store.

He furrowed his brows. Unnatural behavior. Never without reason and he still wondered why he even thought about it. Yet again.

Demetria was deeply engaged in a customer who seemed to purchase the entire store’s stock of figs, so when it was his turn, you had to tend to him.

You stood in front of him with a smile on your face, a hint of patience surrounding you that wasn’t anywhere noticeable in the busy store around you. Nor in the unease in your hands and feet.

“Sir, what can I do for you?” you asked him, your head tilted slightly.

You had… pretty eyes, he acknowledged as you met his gaze. They reminded him of a field of flowers in the earliest rays of Kephale’s light. Gentle. Kind.

An expression that led him to assume that caring for children came easy to you. Made it easy for them to approach you. A sincerity that wasn’t shielded or covered by masks or facades.

Respectable. Admirable even.

It made him believe you either forgot your first reaction to him or didn’t pay it any mind, choosing to move on or try again instead. Something within him stirred at the sentiment. Even so, he didn’t mind.

“Pomegranates, please,” he said, “four of them.”

You nodded and retreated to the back, bagged four of the fruits before coming back to him. When you handed him the bag you held it at the top, preventing any chance of possibly brushing his hands or even clothes when he took it from you.

Attentive. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure if he approved of your actions or his own.

“That’s 400 balance coins,” you said and he handed you the money by letting it fall into your open palm, as you’ve done with the customers before from what he’s witnessed. You certainly knew your way around your… issue.

“Lord Mydei!”

The calls - two voices in unison - made him pause before he had managed to turn away from the store. When he looked behind him, he spotted the same two Kremnoan kids running towards him he’s seen the other day at your store.

They were smiling and his shoulders felt lighter immediately at the realization.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Are you buying pomegranates, Lord Mydei?”

They beamed at him as if they just made the discovery of a lifetime when even children knew the significance of pomegranates for Kremnoans. A child’s mind worked in fascinating ways - although he pondered how much of his own consumption of it was because of his enjoyment of it rather than tradition.

He allowed himself to smile. “But of course.”

“Woah!” the kids exclaimed before he could elaborate. He chuckled. A sound that resonated in his chest but never made it past his lips.

“Now, what are you two doing here by yourself?”

“We wanted to ask her for games,” the girl said and pointed at you behind him. He did turn his head, saw the amused smile on your face as you waved at the kids while taking another customer’s payment out of his peripheral vision.

Your popularity among these kids was… astounding.

“But when you’re here, Crown Prince, can you train with us?” the boy asked. His big round eyes contained a fire that was hard to come by even among adults. Sheer determination. And even more so, courage.

“What do your parents say about this?”

“They are alright with it!”

His lips twitched upwards. These kids didn’t know he would be here so that was a lie. He tilted his head at them.

“Really?”

They both froze until a moment later the girl began to sway from side to side, her cheeks as red as a pomegranate. The boy’s cheeks rivaled the fruit’s as well but he held Mydei’s gaze nonetheless.

Impressive.

Deep inside, Mydei wished more people would dare to meet him face to face like this. This little boy had more of Nikador’s virtues than most adults ever would. That alone was praiseworthy and his resolve to send the two kids home faltered.

“Alright, not really,” the girl said, pouting.

“But they know we were going to meet her!” the boy added, pointing at you again. The girl looked up and tapped the boy’s shoulder.

“Oh, oh, she can come with us,” she said. The boy’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, she can watch us get stronger!” he agreed.

“I can do what?” your voice sounded behind Mydei and he looked to the side as you stepped next to him. The crowd of the store had dissipated a bit by now.

“We wanna train with Lord Mydei and you can be there too and watch us,” the girl explained.

Mydei saw on your face that the idea caught you off guard, though he wondered if it was the training part or accompanying him that rendered you speechless for a moment.

For a short moment only however because the smile returned to your face, your expression softening. “I still have a lot of work to do here, I can’t leave just yet.”

“Then after work.”

“We’ll see later, alright?”

To the kids it was more than enough of an answer and they turned to him again, their eyes wide.

“Please, Lord Mydei? We’ll be good and go home afterwards right away. Promise!”

He relented. He had the time to spare and indulging these kids for a bit would both provide a distraction for him and make the children’s day so much better. In the end, he never could fully decline a kid’s request.

Not when nothing harmful was involved in any capacity.

And training them came more akin to playing House but with wooden swords rather than actual sparring.

Whether or not you would tag along, he couldn’t tell as you had to tend to your work again, and your reply had been ambiguous at best. The kids wanted you there. And him? He didn’t know.

He supposed it wouldn’t make much of a difference either.

[applecherrytea]

“Under the Rain, Stuck in my room”

Request from @diced-sugar: Hello! I just came across your blog from scrolling through the twst tag, so sorry I don’t know much about your preferences for writing certain characters 😞 but, if you want a request, could we maybe get something to do with your fav twst character and the prefect being forced to stay together at ramshackle due to a rainy day? Could be cute!! Have a nice day!!

A/N: AAAAAAA I’m so happy! Finally! An excuse to write about my husband and children! Most of these will be romantic, but if you want a platonic version all you need to be is send in an ask! I’ll be happy to write one! Thanks again for sending me your request! I hope you’ll like this!

Character(s) Involved: Trey Clover, Leona Kingscholar, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

CW/TW: G/N!Reader for the most of it. Some strong language during Idia’s part

The downpour came on so suddenly, one moment the sky was sunny and bright, the next it started raining so bad that all classes were suspended! Luckily you and [Character] are together! It’s too bad he wouldn’t be able to go back to his dorm though…

The rain really came on as a surprise. You had asked him to come over, so he could help you out with baking and learning how to cook with the ingredients you were able to haggle at Mr. Sam’s shop. You still can’t believe that that place was more than a magic store. “Wow…it’s really raining out there..” You say as you lean yourself on the window sill, Trey behind you, cooking up what was left of the ingredients you bought. “I already called Riddle, he said I should stay here till the storm blows over.” he said as he plated the food, “You don’t mind, do you perfect?” you signal no with your head, moving away from the window to help Trey out with cleaning up so you both could eat.

Leona was already getting comfortable on your couch as you watched the rain from the guest room window. “This sucks!” Leona peeks open one eye, “I was really looking forward to those specialty lunches they were gonna serve at the cafeteria!” you stomped your way over to the couch, plopping yourself on the empty space Leona gracefully left for you. “You know,” the lion beastman mused, “if you want, I can just order it for you?” he says as he pulls you down to his chest. You look at him quizzically “You really?” he hummed in response, “I told you already, you can use my money on whatever you need. And if what you need is a specialty lunch then,” he offered his phone to you “knock yourself out” You gleaned as you stood up with his phone in your hand, ordering lunch for you three. “Thanks a lot, love!” you pecked his cheek as you stood up from the couch, picking up Grim in the process.

“THIS SUCKS ASS!!!” both you and Idia screamed as you watched the rain pour down. He slumps down to the ground, back facing the wall. “This is so not cool…it’s like watching your new game unload all its data for hours!” you sighed as you joined the complaining housewarden on the floor. “Tell me about it..” you both sat in silence for a while, fidgeting with nearby things as you awkwardly awaited for the rain to stop. “So…” Idia sat idly as he took out his phone, “wanna play while we wait this out?” you smirked as a response, “Is that even a question?” You and Idia spent the next hours playing around multiple games, so long that the weather had passed and Ortho had to come out and take Idia back to Ignihyde.

You knew that the rain was coming, props to the forecaster for reporting about it. You sat in your living room with Grim for a while, waiting for a special someone to come over for your usual nightly walks. “I wonder how long he’s gonna take? The rain looks so serious…” As you said those words, a knock came from the main door. You hurriedly get up from the couch you were lazing on, wearing your rain clothes as well as an umbrella as you open the doors. “Hornton! There you are, was wondering when you’d come over.” you opened the door widely for Malleus. He smiled as he entered your dorm. “Thank you, child of man. If you are ready, then shall we go and take a look at the gargoyles?” You nod happily as you head out with Malleus for a rainy adventure.

[milessunflowers]

pls pls pls wag!isack or wag!arthur

fuck it we ball why not both

wag!isack hadjar x f1 driver!male!reader

wag!arthur leclerc x f1 driver!male!reader

synopsis: headcannons on how i think arthur and isack would be as wags

author's note: WAG!ISACK AND ARTHUR!!! WAG!ISACK AND ARTHUR!!! GUYS IDL IF YOU CAN TELL BUT I WAS SO EXCITED FOR THIS BECAUSE THEY ARE JUST AALBFWKKSLSD

ISACK HADJAR!

he doesn't go to many races since he is more focused on his writing degree

but he is always live streaming the races from his devices

and totally not live tweeting it

he gets heated if you get a penalty or crashed into

will literally call his friends and just blow off steam in french

and his friends are just like "uh, yeah, totally dude"

he always texts you right after the race and makes sure you're okay if you crashed

and if you win/score points, he's throwing parties to celebrate over facetime

not a man of very encouraging words, but he is very sweet with the words he does gives

he is more of a man of action i feel

definitely tells you he is proud of you but shows it a lot more

wither way, you adore it

plus a lot of his writings involve you

youre his muse

you literally skip a race to go to his graduation

you surprised him there with a set of new pens, notebooks, and even a new laptop

hes just so happy to see you that he practically drops his degree/diploma to hug you

when isack does start going to more races, the fans are absolutely delighted

they ask for his autograph since you only talk about how amazing he is and how he's going to be a bestselling author one day

and he's super friendly to the fans, especially since he stops you so they can get your autograph too

the fans love him more than you now

which to you is the best thing ever

because like who wouldn't love your amazing boyfriend?

ARTHUR LECLERC!

he goes to every single one of your races

always in the garage/hospitality

everyone knows him and sre extremely friendly with him

they adore him honestly

and he's like such a good energy to keep in the garage since he's just so happy

plus he's learning to become either an engineer or a teacher

i couldn't choose because honestly both work for him

plus he would just be the cutest, most sweet teacher out there, am i right?

anyways

so he is also getting hands on experience in the garage (between either helping with the car or babysitting the grid's kids)

and he always has a blast, especially since you are an amazing racer

but if you happen to dnf or have a really bad crash, his entire body just tenses and his face is just stuck in a fearful expression

when you are cleared by medical, he is clinging to you and not saying anything

hes just holding on tight to you for the longest time before he tells you to stop giving him heartattacks at age 24

that makes you smile and forget about the rest of the race

he is also really sweet with the fans and makes sure you spend some time with them (even if you already do) because they support you

and he trades bracelets with them, i feel, because he is just obsessed with them

he has a whole collection in a jar in the entry way to your flat

you even add some in there for him

once more, your fans start to like arthur more than you

so you turn it into a competition (that you ultimately lose)

its all fun and games and makes you both happy

TAGS! (if you want to be added lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile, @alex-wotton, @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[neeeooon]

(un)official hype squad ;

10 | red bean bun

"it sucks that rin couldn't make it," mei mused as she picked at her sushi.

isagi turned to face her, his drink gurgling as he sucked on the straw. "does it, though?" chuckling to herself, ayumi nudged the boy but didn't say anything as she continued eating her dinner.

it was strange, sitting around with a bunch of teenagers you'd never met, but not as uncomfortable as you anticipated. you sat between bachira and nagi, the latter quiet as he "secretly" played mobile games under the table.

"what's that, y/n?" bachira asked, grabbing your attention as he pointed at the little sack on the seat beside you. you hummed and picked it up, placing it on the table for him to see. "for rin." you didn't say more, but bachira caught the awkward shift in your posture and didn't push. "cool!" he grinned, and you returned the look with a small smile.

your group decided to call it when the sky darkened, remembering their "before dark" deadline. after learning about the blue lock team, you realized you probably should have given rin's treat to nagi, since he would be training more closely with the #1 player, but you felt that chigiri was the most mature in the little group of five and tapped him on the shoulder before he could leave.

"chigiri? can you please make sure rin gets this? don't tell him it's from me, though."

chigiri's expression remained composed as he took the bag, but his eyes glimmered as if begging to ask you about it. "no problem. have a good night, y/n!"

"good luck with your practice!" chiyo shouted as she waved goodbye to the boys, who were piling into anri's car. bachira's arm waved wildly back at her, his face beaming. "bye, chiyo! bye yumi and mei and y/n!"

masterlist // previous (ch 9) // next (ch 11)

notes -> first writing part! idk how many i'll have, but there probably won't be many :)

tags -> @enepsigosthelast @svnarxnn @shutuppeter @meekydeeks @tired-child00 @arwawawa2 @5-laska @evilenchantresss @ieathairs @zaephix @x3nafix @nensi @chaoslibra @yukari1k @90s-belladonna @imasimpsowhat06 @tachiibabe @kisses2kanao @kyutiipie @chuurinnie @lukapurin @arcanaloser @kuroshiinya @folksmione @kermitbbg69 @luvynii @irethepotato @poisonedst4r @heididaily104 @ichcocat @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @kurosagislvr @prettyblueskiess @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @lilsebnem @bubybubsters @cookielovesbook-akie @idexmids @sugacor3 @ohagiyo @loverryxx @mivqko @unr4v3l @ravenbc

© neeeooon, 2025

[gghostwriter]

Hiya! :D

Since askbox is open, may I please order some slight hurt-comfort based off of "From Eden" by Hozier? Harnessing the pure longing this song emanates to me fr.

Something like non-BAU!reader getting hurt by an unsub during a case (non-lethal but it does require a stitch or two) and spencer gets abnormally worried about this one person among the group of victims (maybe serial bank robberies) and when the team notices it and ask him about it he reveals to them that they're actually his roommate?

something romantic-leaning; I just like the idea of him standing outside the hospital room door [OMG LIKE THE SONG] because the doctors told him to wait before he could go inside sitting there like 🥺 "My roommate :(" and getting embarassed when the team calls reader his partner; "You're so worried it's almost like you're dating." sort of feel

Sorry if this is long btw! I tend to go all out on ideas! Pronouns are up to you though, feel free to change anything to your liking as well! :]

Thanks for reading! :D

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Trope: Roommates; Comfort, Fluff, Angst w.c: 1.2k A/N: There's so much interpretation for 'From Eden by Hozier' and I had a challenging time trying to capture which meaning I wanted to encapsulate. This is also by far the longest request I've written and honestly this took a life of its own but I still hope you like it! Main masterlist

Eden. // Spencer Reid

The monotone droll in the bank was white noise in your life that you learned to slowly hate. Day in, day out it was the same thing—customers withdrawing, depositing, and claiming loans. You liked numbers, that was how you ended up as a manager, but the cookie cutter business smile you had to keep on your face was a con you wish to part from. 

You sighed. Your roommate turned secret crush, Dr. Spencer Reid, had warned you about the serial robberies that had happened within the state of Virginia and Washington. He advised you to be vigilant and if possible, to keep your phone within your reach and you easily agreed having heard some of the macabre cases he’d been involved in.

You just didn’t think it would happen today.

“Get down on the ground!” A man’s voice echoed throughout the lobby, followed by a series of gunshots.

Spencer’s voice played in your head as if he was a lighthouse guiding you out from the panic. Hide. Don’t panic. Press the hidden alarm and dial my number.

You thanked your past self for programming his contact on speed dial. Volume down and no words uttered, you hid the phone inside your blouse hoping to not get caught.

“You there!” One of the masked men caught sight of you. “Outside. Now!”

You nodded, averting your eyes to show submission. Another tactic from Spencer.

Wishing the call picked up the trio of robbers voices, you stayed facing down on the lobby surround by the rest of the hostages.

Spencer, please. Please, get my message.

Just a few miles away, tension was high in the BAU conference room. The round table littered with folders and cooling coffee mugs. The team was running on a mixture of caffeine and sheer will to solve the serial bank robber case, tagged as priority by Strauss, that had been terrorizing states for a span of months. 

Spencer raked his already unruly hair. So far, the profile was incomplete. They knew there were three in the team but with varying heights and builds in various crime scenes, even that was shaky. What they were sure of was the sick game of Russian roulette they would play with their hostages, always with one bullet in a revolver and who ever is unlucky, dies with a hole between their brows and the remaining hostages are pistol whipped to unconsciousness. 

He knew he should stay objective. He knew that but how could he, when who he considers as his secret flower was at risk every second the unsubs were at large? It was his mission to keep you safe and the chances of you being caught in the line of fire heightened each second.

Vibration from his pocket brought him out of his musings. 

It was you. Right there and then, Spencer knew it was anything but good. You never called during work hours and with the last conversation between you having been about safety, it had settled in his stomach that the worst reality had come to fruition.

He picked up without saying a word, straining his ears to hear any distinguishable background noise. That was when he heard it—the authoritative, cocky voice yelling at you to come outside. His heart dropped. 

No. No. No. Anything but this.

“Sir, we just got a call,” Penelope rushed into the conference room. “There’s a live hostage taking at—”

“—Commerce Bank. 125 Independence Boulevard,” Reid interjected.

The profilers shared a look.

“That’s right,” Penelope muttered.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at him as he hurriedly stood up and collected his belongings. “Wait Reid—” causing him to stop in his tracks and turn to face back at the team. “—How’d you know?”

“Because Y/N works there,” he promptly exits the room, hightailing it to the elevator.

Emily looked at JJ. “Who’s that?”

She shrugged, lost too on who you were.

———

The team had split into two vehicles. Hotch, Rossi, and Reid in one while Morgan Emily, and JJ in the other.

Rossi glanced at Hotch, communicating the tension Reid was releasing from the passenger seat. In turn, Hotch sneaks a peek via the rear view mirror and profiles Reid’s ticks—hands clasped tight together, right leg shaking up and down, eyes shifting from left to right, and deep breaths through the nose and mouth. 

“Reid,” he called out.

Blown wide doe eyes meet his. “Hm?”

“We need you to stay focused. If you can’t do that, I’ll pull you out of this case.”

“I—I can do it!” His voice cracking.

“Are you sure, kid?” Rossi clarified.

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s just she’s my—” roommate but that singular title wasn’t fitting to describe who you were to him. No classification was good enough, really. “—I can focus,” he declared. 

There was a series of looks exchanged between the two senior agents. They didn’t need to be seasoned profilers to understand that their youngest is one slip away from panic.

Hotch sighed. “Alright, Reid, but you follow my orders. Got it?”

“Yes.” 

———

Einstein’s theory of special relativity was what came to mind as he paced outside your hospital room. The physicist implied that time moves relative to the observer. An object moving very fast experiences time more slowly than in rest and that was exactly what he felt as he paces back and forth outside your room, desperately waiting for any update—the good or the bad. Everyone seemed to be moving at a leisure pace while he, Dr. Spencer Reid, hangs on the precipice of elation and despair. 

The team had sent him away, to you specifically, when it was obvious that his otherwise objective mind was of no help in finishing up the case. Was it dreadful of him that he felt relief course through his veins when it wasn’t you that got the short end of the stick during the unsubs’ Russian Roulette? Yes, possibly but he was only human. A being filled with conundrums and good vs evil. 

The impact of today was eye opening. He could no longer deny to himself that you were more than just a roommate or an acquaintance or a friend. Oh, how hard he tried so hard to push away any thought that seemed any less innocent or chivalrous, but the idea of seeing those beautiful eyes broken and in pain made him want to face the truth. The truth being how deliriously in love Spencer Reid was with you. 

His phone rang, disturbing his mind-altering revelation thoughts.

“Hey kid,” It was Morgan. “How is she?”

Reid licked his lips, eyes trained on the still closed door. “I—I haven’t seen her. The doctors are still inside and I’m still here—outside.” 

“I know this isn’t the time but should we know who she is?” A pause. “Girlfriend?”

“No. No, she’s my roommate,” his sigh coated in despair, murky and sad enough for Morgan to notice.

“You sounded so worried. It’s almost like you’re in love with her or something.”

“I am—” your door opened. “I have to go, Morgan,” he hung up before another word could be uttered.

“Are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” The female doctor asked.

He nodded.

She smiled. “She’ll see you now.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[yoiisa]

LESSON LEARNED ⋆˙⟡ OLIVER AIKU

"I just wanna make sure, You understand perfectly, you're the kind of man who makes me sad, While she waits up, You chase down the newest thing and take for granted what you have." - "Girl at Home" by Taylor Swift Tags: womanizer! Oliver x maneater! Reader, reader puts Oliver in his place (It only turns him on more),suggestive since Oliver is shameless when it comes to women. TW for attempted cheating on Oliver's part!!

a/n: This is part of a little series I doing where I’m writing BLLK fics for each of my fav songs on all the T Swift albums.

I am one of five stans of "Girl at Home" in the world. Same thing with Bachira's fic for "Untouchable". It's rough out here... (¬_¬) anyways, enjoy as always!

At first you'd thought this was a joke, or some trick your brain was playing on you. After all, they're showing highlights from the latest soccer match on the TV of the bar right now. What're the odds that the captain from that team, Oliver Aiku, happened to slide into the barstool right next to you?

All you can manage is a few bleary blinks at him as his mouth curves into a smirk that is meant to be charming. Still, something about it sends shivers up your spine, and you can't decide if it's in a good way or not. His hair is slightly mussed and his two-toned eyes twinkle in invitation, but a small voice in the back of your head is sending warnings radiating through your nervous system.

It would be the perfect time to just get up and bolt, but you'd come here to get some air from your stifling apartment . . . and to pick up some guy to bring back to your apartment. Maybe this was the universe smacking you in the face with a chance. Who knows, he's an athlete. He might be a good lay.

You lean forward a bit, and tilt your head as you asses him. Some of your hair falls into your face as your eyes flit up and down his body.

"Can I help?" you ask softly, keeping the apprehension out of your voice. You'd done this dance before, and walked the fine line between welcoming and prison guard.

"Mmm," he hums, leaning into your space a bit, "I was hoping you could give me a lil' bit of company tonight?"

"What kinda company?" you take a sip of your drink.

"Whatever kind you like," he replies without missing a beat.

"I didn't know you'd be so open minded to a rejection," you laugh.

"You sound so sure of yourself," he notes, seemingly not affected by your demeanor in the slightest. Oh, he's one of these guys. They think no means yes and get lost means take me I'm yours.

Oliver just rolls his shoulder, as if stretching for a game and hails a bartender. "Old fashioned," it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes, "and for the lady? You're really nursing that drink you got there."

You smirk and bat your lashes at him. "All the more reason to not order me one." You turn to the bartender and give him a soft smile. "I'm good thank you."

The bartender makes quick work of Oliver's drink, before he dips away to help other patrons. You run your finger along the rim of your glass as Oliver takes a sip of his drink.

"So you come here often?" He asks. He mocks being affronted when you snort at the cliche pick up line and says, "C'mon throw me a bone here. You're dryer than . . . than . . ."

"Big brain you got up in your head there," you muse, drowning the rest of your drink.

"Wow, figured me out that easy huh?"

"You're an open book, darling," your voice drips with derision.

"Pet names already?" Oliver leans even closer. From this vantage point, you can see the blend of hues in his eyes. You've never seen a human with heterochromia before. His eyes look like marbles. He smells like the whiskey from his drink, and pine. His shirt flexes along his shoulders and his back. An Apple watch glints on his wrist as he moves his hand closer to you along the bar counter top. "Take me home first, at least."

"To do what? I don't know if that's the kinda company I'm looking for tonight," you say innocently, but even as you do, your hand gravitates towards his as well. Your fingers come incredibly close to touching.

"But you're not looking for the other kind, that's for sure," you can feel his breath now, hot against his face. Your lips instinctively part ever so slight in anticipation of the kiss that's sure to come. His face is so close to yours now. "No one shows up in a dress like that, all dark and red and snug, and in heels like that just to chat."

"At least I put some effort into my appearance," your voice lilts flirtatiously. "You look like a hobo someone spruced up to go onto a reality dating show."

"If you don't like what I'm wearing, maybe you should take it off," he counters without missing a beat.

"In public?" you cover your mouth in mock shock. "Have some decorum, please."

The hand without the watch grips your hips and you gasp as he pushes himself flush against your body, crowding you against the bar counter. "Take me home with you."

The kiss should've been inevitable. His mouth was practically already touching yours, but even the smallest of milliseconds can make large differences.

His apple watch lights up and all you need to see is the contact name. Some other girl, with a white heart next to it. You eye it for a moment, before cupping a hand over his mouth and pushing him off.

"No."

"What?"

"No. You have a girl waiting for you already. Go to her and don't waste my time."

Oliver takes a step back, before his eyes move down to his watch. Seeing his girlfriend's name, he sighs. "Caught me did you?"

"And I'm glad," you huff and grab your bag. You take out a 20 and a five and leave it on the counter, hoping it's enough to cover your tab. You didn't drink that much, but still. You whirl around to Oliver, the tension now a completely different kind. "You must think I'm stupid or something. But I'm not. I know how boys like you work and I want no part in it."

You fist the collar of his shirt and pull him closer to you. You stare deep into his eyes. "Don't drive home, you drank. Message her first that you're going home now, and call a cab or walk."

"You don't even know her," he mutters.

"There're codes that exist in the world. This is one of them. Besides, I don't need to know her," you release him and walk out of the bar. "I was once her, and to know there are still men like you out there makes me sad."

You walk out into the ebbing nightlife and as Oliver watches you disappear from his sight and life forever, he can't help but groan as he feels his pants tighten. What a shame there's no one around to relieve it. Guess he'll have to go home after all.

a/n: Guys. Please. Don't cheat on your s/o. that's all. goodbye ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

[zarvasace]

Pathfinder Chain 2.0

Masterpost

In which the LU boys are interpreted as having lived their lives and adventures in Golarion, as seen in Pathfinder 2e. Post/Mid-Godsrain. Will include art (mostly for character designs) and fic (specifically Febuwhump 2025.)

For some context in case you are unaware: Pathfinder is similar to Dungeons & Dragons, in which characters have numbers and you roll dice. It is generally played with a group of people each with their own character, but here I'm giving them all the numbers and using them as a basis for fic. It is a high-magic setting built on a foundation of Tolkien-inspired fantasy.

First appearance: Jan 8, 2025

Tag: #pathfinder chain (old designs use this tag, as well)

Previous Pathfinder Chain post, with old art.

Main fic series on AO3

Other works

Warriors frolicking art

Sky being adorable art

My previous Pathfinder Chain was made attempting to model the existing characters in the game as closely as possible, so we saw a lot of rangers and fighters and really only the one spellcaster (two, if we're counting Shadow.) These new character sheets have a different philosophy in mind, one that attempts to put the characters in the existing Pathfinder world and mesh their stories and gods with the lore. By that logic, there are more spellcasters, and I'm attempting to indulge the high-magic kitchen-sink god-bothered fantasy feel with these designs and stories. I'm very happy with them so far!! I'm planning to talk about the designs here, mostly, and reveal story details in fics.

In the update from 1.0 to 2.0, some of my decisions about ancestry and class changed, but plenty stayed the same. I've actually created character sheets this time, however, so I'm very excited to talk at length about those. :) For anyone interested in learning more about my choices, asks are open, and so is 2e.aonprd.com, the free, licensed online database of Pathfinder rules. I’m using Free Archetype and they’re all level 5.

Without further ado, may I happily present my second-version Pathfinder Chain, to be updated as I complete details and show you all the art that I'm working on!—

Four - halfling aiuvarin, artisan, thief rogue, ancestors oracle

Hyrule - sprite ganzi, nomad, phoenix bloodline sorceror, living vessel

Legend - elf beastkin, free spirit, thaumaturge (wand/weapon), sleepwalker

Sky - songbird strix, chosen one, exemplar, fighter

Time - human changeling, feybound, warrior muse bard, chronoskimmer

Twilight - awakened wolf, farmhand, untamed order druid, curse maelstrom

Warriors - keen-venom vishkanya, guard, commander, medic

Wild - human duskwalker, amnesiac, dragon instinct barbarian, wandering chef

Wind - azarketi sylph, sailor, rascal swashbuckler, air kineticist

All intro posts complete as of 1/15/25

[the-barefoot-hatter]

Hi, i just learned about the niblings Pyramid Steve AU and i love it but now i have so many questions. that i am going to dump here now lol. Is Bill jealous that Pyramid Steve can access both the mindscape and the physical world? I like to imagine that he was born like Athena from Greek Mythology since he was created in a dream. Or maybe does it not work that way, it's like Looney Tunes rules where anything can happen just as long as it's funny lol? Is Pyramid Steve existing in the physical world more of a motivator for Bill to demand that Ford finish the portal asap? If Ford learns about the original purpose of the portal, will he think that Bill made Pyramid Steve as a manipulation tactic? Would he be emotionally devastated, thinking poor Pyramid Steve was given life because he was merely a pawn in his sick father's mind games, and try to protect Pyramid Steve from Bill, not accepting Bill's insistence that he is just as confused as Ford? Or would he think that Pyramid Steve is "in on it" with Bill? If something goes down like what happens in canon, who is taking Pyramid Steve in the divorce? 😂

eeeee, a fan! I'm glad you like it! my au tag is the: non euclidean geometry au search it up on my tumblr for a bunch more silly little comics <3 the nibling comic is where I started actually really thinking and adding continuity, so some of this is wobbly/subject to change:

Is Bill jealous that Pyramid Steve can access both the mindscape and the physical world?

A little bit! Also very proud, because LOOK how ADVANCED his baby is!!! Obviously the BEST BABY! (Oh, your's can sit up on it's own? what cute little accomplishment there, you must be so proud)

I like to imagine that he was born like Athena from Greek Mythology since he was created in a dream. Or maybe does it not work that way, it's like Looney Tunes rules where anything can happen just as long as it's funny lol?

A bit of both! They aren't exactly sure how Pyramid Steve was made, since he popped up right after karaoke night and memories are... hazy lol

Is Pyramid Steve existing in the physical world more of a motivator for Bill to demand that Ford finish the portal asap?

Yes, absolutely! You can't separate family!

(also having a baby around is making Bill much more tired/slip up about what's really going on/change his plans for the benefit of his family, so the result of opening portal is bit less end-of-the-worldy. probably)

If Ford learns about the original purpose of the portal, will he think that Bill made Pyramid Steve as a manipulation tactic? Would he be emotionally devastated, thinking poor Pyramid Steve was given life because he was merely a pawn in his sick father's mind games, and try to protect Pyramid Steve from Bill, not accepting Bill's insistence that he is just as confused as Ford? Or would he think that Pyramid Steve is "in on it" with Bill?

lol, well you see, this Ford is slowly coming to realize that his Bill is not actually a Muse of Knowledge but is in fact just some guy. A smart but so, SO stupid guy with a lot of issues. It's more like the horror of finding out the guy you are seriously dating has been faking his entire resume, but has been real with you, emotionally. Just not about his job or his background or his initial intentions and oh god, he's dating a stan-type conman. And the conman fell for his mark.... Is his life some sick hallmark movie?? (They love each other and will work it out)

but IF this AU went the darker paranoia/betrayal route like in canon, Ford wouldn't think Pyramid Steve's in on it (because Ford is paranoid but he can recognize that PS is just an innocent baby). Ford would be utterly gutted at being 'baby-trapped' and pretty resistant to listening to Bill about the situation at all, because Ford is a pretty unforgiving guy prone to dramatic grudges, especially once he learns you lied to him.

If something goes down like what happens in canon, who is taking Pyramid Steve in the divorce? 😂

;-; oh, that be a tough one!

Bill is much more powerful, but Ford is scrappy and determined!

IF this AU went the paranoia/betrayal route like in canon, and Bill has Pyramid Steve, Ford will stop at nothing to get him back/kill Bill. If Ford has Pyramid Steve, Bill would be a thousand times more desperate to escape the Nightmare Realm and get them BOTH back/on Bill's side.

(ps, i welcome anyone else playing with these setups, just link me so i can enjoy them too <3)

[lullabyes22-blog]

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Ch: 31 - Cost & Reward

Snippet:

"Pet."

Vi blinks. The server's set a bottle of claret at the table. The blacklights strike a bright vein through the red. Vi imagines the taste: bold as blood.

"Pet," Silco says. "Pour."

Vi's reflexes tug the rest of her into motion. She complies. Wine sluices like blood into the crystal.

It's her duty to taste each bottle for poison. The first time, she'd refused flat-out. She wasn't Silco's sponge. Silco's half-smile had only hardened her resolve. She'd held his stare, and spat a thick wad of phlegm right into the wineglass.

She'd expected him to explode with temper. He did nothing. Just sat back, hands steepled in his lap. A moment later, Sevika had seized Vi by the hair, yanked her head back, and poured the contents of the glass down her throat.

Vi had been forced to swallow, or choke.

Later that week, she'd learnt that Jinx would not be dropping by to visit Hotel Muse. Her sister was busy with a project. Top secret. And no, Vi couldn't visit.

Not until she proved herself willing to play the game.

So, she plays. Sullenly—but she plays. Silco likes his spirits the way he likes his cigars: top-notch. By now, Vi has tasted everything from gin-soaked cocktails in highballs to smoky bourbon sipped from cut-crystal tumblers. Each time, she waits for her tongue to turn toad-green and her body to convulse into death-throes.

So far, the only aftereffect is the urge to piss.

Taking the tiniest sip, Vi swishes it around her mouth. Her palate is attuned to the subtleties: the acidic burn of arsenic, the alkaloid bitterness of mercury; the murky tang of belladonna.

This wine is virgin. And, Vi admits, first-rate. Rich, full-bodied, and smooth on the tongue.

Like Nao.

Vi's cheeks burn. She hopes the blacklights hide it.

"All good," she says, and slides the glass to Silco.

"Ta." He lifts the glass to the light. The rays refracts through the wine, striking broken shards across a broken face. "Pour one for yourself."

"Rather not."

"No?" A ghost of a smile. "Not in the mood to toast your handiwork?"

"Or get toasted."

"Diligent as always." He tips the wineglass in salute, then sips. "But, Violet. Did I not warn you about the wolves?"

It's the Eye's voice: iron threat veiled in velvet consonants. But there's something nearly familial to it. It resembles the way Vander used to speak to her when she'd crossed a line, and there'd be no fighting her way out of it.

Only the consequences, and the hard lesson learned.

Vi feigns calm. "Better a wolf, than a donkey's ass."

For a moment, she swears Silco's lip twitches. The impulse, stymied, does not break the surface.

The Eye is back, and he's all business.

"There's dying a hero," he says, "and there's living a liar."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You tell me, Pet. Do little girls with big mouths always get the storybook ending? Or does the Wolf bite their hands off, when he learn they've stolen from his table?" A heartbeat's silence, savorless. "Especially his favorite vintage."

"I don't know what you—"

He leans in. The timbre of his voice dips intimately low. The patrician polish is gone. Only a raw-edged gravel remains.

"Do not," he warns, "take me for a fool."

A bead of sweat trickles down Vi's spine. The room's shadows grow teeth. At their heart, Silco's shark-eye burns. She feels it scoring through her clothes, straight to the skin.

Everywhere Nao's fingerprints linger.

AO3 - Forward, But Never Forget/XOXO

FFnet - Forward, But Never Forget (XOXO)

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[aventurineswife]

Hellooo!! Could you possibly do Pirate!Reader x Mermaid/siren!Aventurine?

Here’s an idea: They’ve known each other long enough to the point Reader genuinely starts questioning if Aventurine is constantly stalking their ship or not, since he seems to pop up nearby whenever their ship stops somewhere.

The Tide Pulls Us Closer

Summary: Every time you dock your ship, Aventurine is already there—waiting, watching, smirking like he knows something you don’t. It’s happened too often to be coincidence. When you finally confront the siren about his apparent stalking, he only offers cryptic smiles and half-truths. But you know Aventurine well enough to recognize when he’s playing a game… and this time, you’re making sure the stakes are even.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Pirate!Reader, Siren!Aventurine, Slow Burn/Mutual Pining, Flirty Banter, Power Play & Mind Games, Cat-and-Mouse Dynamics, Underlying Tension.

Warnings: Mild language, Subtle manipulation & mind games, Mentions of piracy & smuggling, Light tension & suggestive implications, Aventurine being a charming yet dangerous menace.

A/N: tried a new style? Let me know if you guys like it, I'm not so sure about myself 🧍‍♀️

The sea had its own laws, its own rhythms. You had learned to read them like a gambler reads his cards, knowing when to fold and when to play. But no amount of seamanship could explain why every time you made port, he was there.

Aventurine.

The first time you saw him, you thought he was just another wandering soul of the sea—a siren with a voice like velvet and a smile like a dagger wrapped in silk. The second time, you thought it was coincidence. By the fifth, you were convinced he was stalking your ship.

And now, here he was again, lounging on the warm rocks of this nameless cove, half-submerged in the shallows, watching your crew unload cargo as if he had all the time in the world. The water lapped at his skin, iridescent scales catching the afternoon light. His eyes gleamed, pupils slitted like a predator’s, and that infuriating smirk never wavered.

You crossed your arms, standing at the edge of the dock. “Starting to think you’re following me, fish boy.”

Aventurine chuckled, low and smooth, the sound carried by the wind. “Oh? And here I thought it was you who kept stumbling into my waters.”

“You’re in every damn port I visit,” you shot back. “Unless I’m mistaken, you don’t exactly have legs to walk around, so either you’ve got a terrible sense of direction, or you are following me.”

He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “Mm. Or perhaps the sea itself wants us to meet. A little wager between fate and the tides.” He lifted a dripping hand, gesturing lazily. “Besides, can you blame me? Your ship leaves the most delightful chaos in its wake. Plundering, smuggling, outwitting the Navy… I do love a good gamble.”

“You are stalking me,” you muttered, running a hand down your face.

He only grinned wider.

With a sigh, you stepped closer, lowering your voice. “Alright, Siren. What do you want?”

“Want?” He dragged a webbed finger through the water, tracing idle patterns. “Now, that’s an interesting question.” His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. “Would you believe me if I said I simply enjoy your company?”

“No.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, Captain, you wound me.”

“Try harder,” you said flatly. “You don’t just ‘enjoy company.’ You like winning. What’s the game here?”

Aventurine’s gaze flickered, the easy amusement in his expression giving way to something more calculated, more dangerous. For all his theatrics, there was always something unreadable beneath the surface.

“Perhaps I’m simply keeping an eye on my investment,” he mused.

You raised a brow. “Investment?”

“You.”

The word settled between you like an unspoken challenge.

For a long moment, the only sound was the distant cry of seagulls and the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore.

Then you laughed, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Aventurine merely shrugged. “I do try.”

Despite yourself, you smirked. “Fine. You want a game? Let’s make it interesting.” You crouched at the edge of the dock, fingers trailing over the water’s surface. “If I can outmaneuver you, get my ship out of here before you find me again, you stop lurking.”

His slitted pupils narrowed, intrigued. “And if I win?”

“You tell me why you’re really so interested in me.”

For the first time, Aventurine’s smirk faded just a fraction. Something in his expression shifted—too quick to catch, but unmistakable.

Then, just as fast, the mask slipped back into place. He grinned, sharp and bright.

“Oh, Captain,” he purred, “you do love to gamble.”

You leaned forward, mirroring his smirk. “And you do love to lose.”

The game was on.

[deezee112]

The worst ending 23 : A Game of Disappearance

The worst ending 22 | The worst ending 24

Yandere!Che'nya x GN!Reader

A/N : I swear I studied history for 9 hours in one day. It's quite torture if you study with your dad ( my dad is very good at history and he's very strict about it.. )

Warning : This story contains yandere themes , psychological distress , abandonment , and emotional breakdowns. It explores obsession , dependency , and an unexpected tragedy.

Tags :

@iris-arcadia @yuu-twisted

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

The child in front of you was eerily silent. His wide, cat like eyes glowed in the dim light, watching you with quiet curiosity. His lips were slightly curled, almost as if he were smirking, but he never made a sound.

You crouched to his level, tilting your head. " You're quiet.. " you mused. " But I can tell you're thinking about something. "

He didn't react.

With a sigh, you rested your chin on your hand. " I can't just keep calling you 'hey, boy.' You need a name. "

Still, no response.

You studied him carefully. His hair was messy, his ears twitched slightly as if catching every sound in the room, and his tail flicked behind him lazily. He had an air of playfulness, but something about him felt untamed, like he could disappear at any moment if he wanted to.

A name slipped from your lips before you could think too hard about it.

" Che'nya. "

His head tilted, and for the first time, his smirk widened into something more genuine. He still didn't speak, but there was a new glimmer in his eyes.

" Do you like it? " you asked.

Che'nya blinked once, then slowly nodded.

And from that moment on, he was yours.

Che'nya was a handful.

From the moment he learned how to talk, he never stopped. He chattered endlessly about everything and nothing, his words laced with teasing and riddles that didn’t always make sense. If he wasn’t talking, he was vanishing literally.

" Che'nya, stop disappearing in the middle of a conversation. " you scolded one day, arms crossed.

His grin appeared first, then the rest of him faded back into existence. " Aww, but it's fun watching you try to find me. "

" It's not fun. " you huffed. " What if you get lost? "

Che’nya pouted dramatically, draping himself over your back like a lazy cat. " Then you’ll come looking for me, right? "

You sighed, but you didn’t push him off. He always clung to you when he wanted attention, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, hanging onto your arm, or lying with his head in your lap, watching you with half lidded eyes.

It was cute at first endearing, even.

But over time, it became suffocating.

Che'nya didn’t like sharing.

At first, it was subtle. He would interrupt your conversations, pulling your attention away from others with a well timed joke or a sudden disappearance act. Then, he started getting more clingy, looping his arm around yours whenever you went out, pressing close as if staking his claim.

" You're always talking to other people. " he grumbled one evening, draping himself over your couch. " It's boring without you around. "

" You need to interact with others too, you know. " you said, ruffling his hair.

His ears flattened slightly. " I do interact. But no one's as fun as you. "

" You'll find someone else eventually. "

Che’nya’s tail flicked. His golden eyes sharpened.

" I don’t want someone else. "

You blinked, caught off guard by the quiet intensity in his voice.

Before you could respond, he flashed you a grin lazy, teasing, but something about it felt forced. " Ah, but I suppose you're right. Maybe I'll go make some new friends after all. "

You didn't notice how his tone lacked its usual playfulness.

It was bound to happen eventually.

Che'nya was good at pretending everything was a game, but there was an edge to him that couldn’t be ignored.

That night, the tension finally snapped.

" I don’t get it! " Che’nya’s voice was sharp, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen. " Why do you keep pushing me away! "

" Because you’re too attached! " you shot back. " You’re always there, Che'nya! Every time I turn around, you’re watching, waiting like I’m supposed to just be here for you all the time! "

His tail bristled. His fists clenched at his sides. " Is that so wrong? "

" You need to learn how to be alone! "

For a second, he just stared at you, wide-eyed and tense. Then, his expression twisted into something unreadable.

" Fine.. " he whispered.

Then, louder

" Maybe I don’t need you at all! "

His voice trembled, but the words still hit like a knife to the chest.

" I want you to disappear! "

And before you could say anything else, he turned and ran.

Che’nya didn’t come back that night.

You weren’t worried at first. He had done this before vanishing when he got upset, only to reappear hours later like nothing had happened.

But this time, he didn’t return the next day.

Or the day after that.

The house felt emptier without him. The silence was deafening.

By the time Che'nya finally came home, days had passed. His ears were flattened against his head, his tail limp behind him, his usual energy completely drained.

He expected you to be there, waiting, maybe ready to scold him.

But the house was too quiet.

Too still.

" y/n...? " he called hesitantly, stepping inside.

No answer.

His ears twitched. He wandered from room to room, checking the kitchen, the bedroom, even the attic anywhere you might be hiding.

But you weren’t there.

The house smelled like you, like the life you had built together, but there were no signs of you recently being there. Your shoes were still by the door. Your coat still hung on the rack. It was as if you had simply…vanished.

His hands trembled. His throat tightened.

" You’re messing with me, right...? " he said, voice shaky. " This is a joke. You love games, too, don’t you? So come out already. "

Silence.

Che'nya’s breath came in short, ragged gasps.

" You always come back.. " he muttered. " You always come looking for me. So why— "

A choked sound escaped him. His fingers curled into fists.

" No. " he whispered. " You’re here. You have to be here! "

But no matter how many times he searched, no matter how desperately he called your name, the house remained silent.

You were gone.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months.

Che'nya never left. He stayed in the empty house, curled up in the places where you used to sit, burying his face in pillows that still smelled like you. He retraced every conversation, every laugh, every time he had taken you for granted.

He should have never left.

He should have never said those words.

" I want you to disappear. "

His own voice haunted him.

And now, he was the only one left trapped in the echo of his own mistake.

[dbdakindy]

What are the kids' favorite activities while at school? 👀♥️

We loved these questions and since they sort of go together, here we go!!

The kids all play together just about how you’d expect—sometimes interpersonal relationships are more challenging (looking at you, Charles and Thomas and Edwin and Crystal) but overall everyone tries their best (and Miss Nurse helps them get along, too, if they can’t.)

Niko loves artistic activities. Crystal is her muse and she loves designing costumes for herself and Crystal to wear around the classroom.

Crystal loves hand gesture songs like the “Rock, Scissors, Paper!” Song.

Charles is a kinaesthetic learner and loves movement-related activities. He loves “ritomikku” (movement play) because he can stretch and get out his energy while learning new things!

Edwin loves riddles and he’s become obsessed with cat’s cradle. Miss Nurse is helping him learn on rainy days when they’re stuck indoors. Thomas wishes he could play this (he loves the idea of baby Meatball rocking in a cradle!) but he’s not patient enough quite yet.

Instead, Thomas loves hide and seek, tag, and red light green light. He loves winning!! But he doesn’t (usually) have a tantrum if he loses.

Monty loves games where he can pretend to be a crow. Also, he loves when Miss Nurse hides treasures in the sandbox for him! Shiny! (Pay no attention to the treasures buried by Meatball.)