#ah I have been meaning to ask you some very specific questions too

[daemour]

I Can See You

Pairing: single dad! Seonghwa x babysitter! f! yn

Word Count: 10,137

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, a creepy old man in one scene, age gap (10 years but both are adults (and not just barely)), smut warnings under cut

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, single parent au, M for mature audiences

Summary: When you took a job babysitting a young toddler, you didn't expect to be so drawn to the family. And more specifically, her frustratingly hot and single dad.

Smut Warnings: masturbation, sexual fantasies, riding, slight (if you squint) corruption kink, sliGHT breeding kink, unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), breast play, overstimulation, undiscussed kinks (yn is fine with it. but discuss your fucking kinks guys *gun emoji*), slight cumplay

thank u to @pyeonghongrie and @mingsolo for beta'ing and for the title hehe <3 this is also a collab with @potatomountain who is also writing a dilf hwa (Bittersweet Neighbours), we're just on two sides of the spectrum lol...and this is so damn long

-

“Hello, I’m here for a babysitter interview with a Mr Park?”

“That would be me. Miss (Y/N)?”

When you answered the ad in the newspaper about babysitting, you were so ready to see an older man, around his fifties. But this man looked so young, around his late twenties although you’re sure he’s probably forty. And you’re not one to judge—nearing your mid-twenties one wouldn’t be expecting you to still babysit as a full-time job. But it pays the bills and helps you get some hands-on experience in your degree, child development.

“Ah, yes. That’s me,” your words spill out as you realise he is awaiting an answer. Mentally, you berate yourself for the immediate blunder while Mr Park’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

“Come on in and make yourself comfy on the couch. I’ll be right there. Would you like anything to drink?” Mr Park’s voice is smooth like butter and you have a hard time making sure you don’t get lost in it.

Again, you nod, actual wordy responses jumbled in your brain, walking to the couch and sitting down almost mechanically. If you were mentally present, you would have noticed the smile the older man sends your way.

He doesn’t take too long, returning with two glasses of water. “You didn’t say what you wanted to drink so I just got you water. Is that okay?”

Thankfully, you finally can respond coherently and smile, albeit a little shakily. “Yes, thank you so much.”

You take the glass with both hands, thanking him again quietly and taking a small sip before just holding it as you wait for him to be seated. You’ve felt awkward before, but this is a new extreme. Normally you pride yourself on keeping your cool in front of someone you think is hot, but Mr Park…he’s something else. You try your best to keep your eyes trained on the coffee table, only letting yourself glance at him occasionally so he doesn’t realise just how in awe you are.

“Jihee will be home from school soon, so you’ll see her soon. For now it’ll just be old me and my questions,” Mr Park starts his interview as soon as he sits on the couch across from you. “Now, I saw in your application that your major was in child development? Can I ask why that interested you?”

You blink at him for a moment, not expecting that question. Sure, bringing it up was expected, but the way he sounds like he’s interviewing you for a position in a company amuses you. “Uh…I just grew up with a lot of siblings and their kids. I’m the youngest of six, and the oldest is sixteen years older than me so I have a lot of nieces and nephews as well. Children have always been a part of my life, and my first job was babysitting so it’s something I’m very used to. Child development was just a way for me to learn even more and in a less… hands-on way. Poopy diapers are not my favourite.” You pause. “Not that I can’t change them! Or that Jihee uses them. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

You’re so sure your face is bright red right now as you stumble over your words, and you’re ready to be kicked out, but all Mr Park does instead is laugh at your embarrassment. It’s a little mean but it’s better than your worst conclusion so you’ll take it. “It’s okay,” Mr Park smiles at you. “It’s okay to ramble, it was actually quite amusing. Now, I’d just like to warn you, Jihee has trouble with working on schoolwork. While that usually isn’t an issue, she may be asking you to help her with her homework and reading and I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Would that cause any trouble?”

“It wouldn’t bother me, and I’ll try my best. I took children’s education in college as well so it’d be a good time for me to exercise that,” you laugh quietly. Your first dream was to be a governess, no matter how few jobs there are for that type of work.

Mr Park nods thoughtfully. “Glad to give you some experience in that,” he hums after careful consideration, a smile on his face. “Her struggles lie in understanding the problems and in English. If she faces any difficulty then I can always help out.”

Before either of you continues speaking, his watch beeps and he glances down. Without another word, he stands and goes to open the front door. “Uh–” Your confusion escapes you before you can stop it.

“Oh, Jihee’s almost home and I always leave the door open for her,” he explains, eyes still trained on his watch. “You’ll get to meet her, and then we can discuss more details. And just to reiterate the ad, this is going to be a job that requires a lot of hours. I, of course, will be paying you for any sort of overtime if I need to stay at the office later. Does your schedule still allow for that?”

You hold back your smile. Your schedule mostly consists of scrolling the internet for job opportunities and eating lunch with your friends. “Yes, I can do that,” you affirm. “I’ll need holidays off, but I assume that’s a given as you’ll also be with Jihee?”

A smile pulls at the corner of Mr Park’s mouth. “Very astute,” he chuckles. “Now, here she comes.”

The door swings open without another word from either of you and a little girl dressed in pink and ribbons barrels into Mr Park’s knees. He lets out a quiet grunt, stabilising himself against the door as his hand strokes at her hair. “Hello, Jihee,” he hums fondly. "How was school today?"

The young girl beams up at her father. "So fun!" she grins, her words slightly slurred in her excitement. "Today, Mrs Lee had us do shapes and my favourite colour is blue now! I have so many blue crayons."

Mr Park's eyebrow raises at the mention of crayons. "Do you have them with you?" he asks, and Jihee nods vigorously. "Can I see them?"

Another nod comes from the child and she immediately plops on the floor, pulling out her pencil case and opening it to reveal at least ten crayons, all of varying sizes. What stands out to you the most is that half of them are green. "See! All blue. But this one's my favourite." She grabs at a particularly long and skinny one, a shade of emerald green.

"Ah. Lovey, remember, your colours are a little different, right?" Mr Park talks in a gentle voice, very different from the very adult voice he used with you. "That's a green crayon."

Jihee's face drops. "Oh." Her bottom lip juts out in a pout.

Mr Park holds out his hand and Jihee drops the crayon into his palm. "You can't take the crayons from school anyway, dear. Why don't we leave these in your bag and you can give them back and apologise to Mrs Lee tomorrow?"

Jihee's pout grows bigger but she nods. "Okay, daddy," she agrees and Mr Park nods proudly.

"Now, do you want to meet your new friend?" You flinch as Mr Park mentions you, sitting up straighter in your chair before ultimately deciding to stand instead.

"Hi, Jihee," you do your best to speak with the same quiet tone Mr Park used. "I'm (Y/N)! It's nice to meet you."

You offer your hand for her to shake and Jihee looks at you, her thinking face almost a spitting image of her father's before she walks over and takes your hand with gusto. "Hi, Mrs (Y/N).”

"Ah, I'm not a Mrs," you correct her. "You can call me (Y/N)."

"Miss (Y/N)," Mr Park quietly interrupts and you nod, not wanting to override his parenting although being called 'miss' will catch you off-guard for the time being. "Why don't you tell her one thing about yourself and then Miss (Y/N) has to go, okay?"

Jihee's mouth twists in sadness, her hand still gripping yours. "Okay," she sighs again. "I get to talk to her more later though, right?"

Mr Park nods. "Of course. Miss (Y/N) will be spending a lot of time with you, so I'm glad you like her."

Jihee nods solemnly. "I like pretty people and you're super pretty," she tells you earnestly and your heart swells at the compliment.

“Thank you, Jihee,” you thank her genuinely, although you’re amused at the fact that she considers her appreciation for physical looks a good introduction to herself. “It was nice to meet you.”

With another decisive nod, Jihee turns and marches right off down the hall, presumably to her room. Mr Park turns to you, finally shutting his front door with a sigh. “That was Jihee. Ball of energy extraordinaire. She comes home from school at one-thirty, and will put her own things away before coming to eat a snack. She has one worksheet to do a day but with your help she’ll get it fairy quickly. I’ll email you a list of house rules.”

You nod. “That sounds perfect. What would the schedule look like? What time would I be here, and when would I expect you to come home?”

Mr Park hums, running a hand through his perfect hair. “For her school days, I’d like to have you in here maybe ten minutes before she comes. I’ll always leave her snack in the fridge and you can just pop it in the microwave and make yourself comfortable before she comes barrelling in. Then I’ll be home at five-thirty sharp whenever possible. Every other Saturday I’m in the office for eight hours and you’ll be watching Jihee for those days. If you can’t do a Saturday, just let me know so I can get someone to watch her, but generally I’d like you here from eight to five.”

You nod. All your friends have atypical work schedules so your Saturdays are empty in general, and since the weekdays are shorter hours you don’t mind. “When it comes to after-school playdates, should I expect you to be home or would you like me to take care of them?”

Mr Park’s lips tighten almost imperceptibly. “That won’t be an issue. Jihee doesn’t do playdates.” Your curiosity spikes at his short answer but his tone leaves no room for discussion so you don’t press it. “I’ll give you a key now. Tomorrow is my off-Saturday but if you can come in just to adjust yourself that would be great. I have some work to get done anyway so I’ll be mostly out of your hair although you can still ask me questions.”

You nod again. “Yeah, that works,” you confirm after a quick check to your phone calendar. When you look up, Mr Park is already holding out a key and you take it after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Mr Park nods, moving to open the door when Jihee calls out with a whining tone to her voice. “Daddy, I need help!”

Mr Park sighs but it’s full of affection for his daughter. “I would walk you to your car but she calls for me,” his head dips into an apologetic bow but you shake your head.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile at him. “There’s no need for that at all.” That is one of the main reasons, but another part of you doesn’t want him to know you have no car and you take the bus to his neighbourhood and then walk the rest of the way.

A twenty-four-year-old with no car? It’s a little embarrassing, especially in the area you both live in where it’s almost required to have a car to do anything. Generally, your babysitting jobs were close enough to your home, but the salary of this job enticed you to give up walking.

As you exit, you can hear Jihee starting off her complaints about her jacket and you smile to yourself subconsciously.

-

You’ve been working with the Parks for almost a month now and generally, it’s a good time. You only really see Mr Park when he comes home, but by then you have one foot out the door. There are days when he looks so beaten down that you want to offer him some encouragement, but you don’t want to step out of your boundaries. So, you just keep your head down and leave.

Jihee is sweet and easy-going, not hard for you to get along with. She always has some sort of fun idea for you to play along with and her schoolwork hasn’t been too terrible although you dread when she starts getting into more difficult maths.

But today, as soon as Jihee walks into the door, you suspect something is wrong. She doesn’t greet you as excitedly as she used to, just stalking straight into her bedroom and coming right now, settling herself down on the couch with a pout on her face.

“Jihee, don’t you want to eat?” you try to coax her to the dinner table, but she just shakes her head, immobile. You frown. It’s strange for the usually talkative child to be this closed off. “Did something happen at school?”

Jihee glares at the coffee table, shaking her head. “No,” she mutters but her cold-stone facade drops immediately as she suddenly bursts into tears. Your heart drops for the child crying on your couch and you immediately run to her and pull her into your arms. “Why don’t they like me?” she wails into your shirt and your heart drops.

You had suspected it when Mr Park shut down the playdate idea very quickly, but this just solidifies your thoughts. How could the kids at school not like such a sweet kid? As you’ve been working for the Parks for quite a bit now, you’ve grown to adore the young girl like she was one of your own nieces.

You don’t say anything just yet, just patting her hair and doing your best to calm her down. It takes almost an hour but now she just curls up in your arms, her hands gripping your shirt as she’s so close to falling asleep. You don’t have the heart to wake up so you resign yourself to letting her sleep on you for now.

Within ten minutes, you fall asleep as well. It’s not what you meant to do, but you couldn’t have stopped yourself. When your eyes open again, Jihee is no longer in your arms and there’s a large fluffy blanket laid on top of you. You blink yourself awake before panic sets in and you shoot up, looking around. “Jihee?” you call out and hear deep laughter behind you. When your head snaps back you see Mr Park chuckling at your face.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Miss (Y/N).”

It takes a minute for your words to register, blinking stupidly at your employer for a few moments before your face drops and you practically leap off the couch. “I’m so sorry!” you cry, bowing rapidly at a low angle. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep and it won’t happen again.”

You keep your eyes lowered and you look up at him through your lashes, scared of how he’ll react but to your surprise, Mr Park’s smile grows and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, you looked comfortable and the doors were locked. Jihee didn’t get into any trouble, just was a little bored since you were asleep.”

You shake your head. “Regardless, I shouldn’t sleep on the job but thank you for the kindness. Jihee is very responsible for her age and it certainly reflects on your parenting.” You smile back at him.

“Well, thank you for your kind words. It means a lot to me as well,” Mr Park hums. “Would you like to join us for dinner? I know you usually leave around the time I get back but let me at least feed you before you go.”

You frown. “I’d like to, but I should get going,” you say absentmindedly. “I have to make it in time to catch the bus.”

You’re looking around, trying to gather your belongings, when you realise how silent Mr Park is. And in turn, you realise what you just said. “You take the bus?” His voice lowers and you stare at the look of concern he has on his face. “It’s practically dark by the time you leave and you’re walking to the bus stop by yourself?”

“Ah– it’s okay! It’s not a far walk, just up the street.” You hurry to defend your choices, waving your hands. “I’ve gotten home safe so far, no?”

Mr Park shakes his head. “No, you can’t take chances. I’ll drive you home tonight after dinner. You must stay.”

You stare up at him with wide eyes, but his stance is unwavering. And as much as you would usually protest—being taken home by a much older man would usually ring alarms in your head—the idea of not having to wait in the cold and the dark by yourself is very appealing. And from how you’ve interacted with him before, Mr Park seems very sweet, and you trust him just a little more than you probably should.

“Well, I do thank you for your kindness,” you sigh, nodding your head in concession. “But this will be the only time.”

Mr Park chuckles, not taking you seriously. “We’ll see. Now come on. Tonight is beef stew and my younger brother will come for dinner as well.”

“Uncle Uyu is coming?” You can hear Jihee’s excited voice coming from the kitchen as well as her feet pittering on the floor as she launches herself into your lap. “Hi again, Miss (Y/N).”

“Hello again, Miss Jihee,” you tease, pressing the tip of your finger to her forehead and Jihee giggles.

“Are you staying for dinner?” You nod again and she screeches in happiness, not giving a second glance at how you wince at the sound. “I can’t wait! I have to make you pretty! Come with me.”

With as much seriousness as she can muster in her body, she pulls you by the hand into her room as Mr Park watches the two of you with a soft smile and follows the two of you into Jihee’s room. He takes a seat on the bed as Jihee fusses over your hair, styling it with her toddler's hands and putting an obscene amount of hair clips into it. But you’re whipped for the little girl and you let her do whatever she wants, ending up in two uneven pigtails and a plethora of Hello Kitty clips.

“Daddy, isn’t it pretty?” Jihee giggles, moving your head to tilt so her father can take a look at her work. “It’s better than your hair to practice!”

Mr Park, mock-affronted, holds his hand to his chest. “Betrayed by my own daughter? Alas, but I can let it slide as this may very well be your best work.”

Jihee giggles, pressing her face against your cheek when the doorbell rings. “Uncle Uyu!” As always, her focus is diverted by any new thing and she runs for the door, both you and Mr Park following shortly after. As she yanks the door open, a man around Seonghwa’s age greets her just as excitedly, bending down to pick her up and spin her around.

“Jiji,” he cheers, “Already so big?” His eyes find you and you offer a small wave. “And who’s this? Seonghwa, you found a girl?”

Mr Park’s jaw drops and your eyes widen as you rush to contradict. “Oh, no, no, I’m just the babysitter. Mr Park has kindly invited me for dinner.”

Wooyoung chuckles at the look on both your faces. “Don’t worry, I just like to pull on Seonghwa’s leg. You’re a little young for him too.”

You offer a smile. “Yeah, and the forties are a little out of my age range as well,” you try to joke, but to your surprise, Wooyoung breaks out cackling, startling Jihee who starts laughing with him confusedly. Mr Park’s shocked face has somehow become even more intense.

“You think I’m how old?” Wooyoung has reigned in his laughter although a smile still pulls at his lips. “I’m only thirty-four!”

A gasp made its way out of your mouth as you start bowing rapidly again in apology. “I’m so sorry! You look your age, I just assumed you had to be older.”

Mr Park sighs, although an amused smile now graces his face. “It’s okay, I can understand it. I’ll just be giving you a hard time from now on.” He punctuates with a wink and your eyes snap down to Jihee in embarrassment.

“Let’s get on with dinner so I can go home and just melt in embarrassment, okay?” you groan and the two older men laugh. Jihee seems to agree with your sentiment, declaring her hunger grumpily and you laugh and pick her up. “See, even Jihee’s on my side. Let’s eat now.”

Mr Park hums, stepping aside. “All right, I see I’m outnumbered now. I hope you don’t mind how casual this dinner is, but I promise the food is worth it. Wooyoung’s the better cook, but he’s taught me a few tricks.”

You shrug. “Any food is good food to me. At home, I have instant ramen and fried rice so it’s a nice change.”

Out of disapproval, Mr Park shakes his head although the smile does not leave his face. “I do not miss my college diet. Please, take a seat.” He motions to the dinner table, pulling out a chair for you to seat yourself, sitting beside you as Wooyoung and Jihee join the other side of the table.

“So, tell me about yourself (Y/N),” Wooyoung hums, leaning on the table by his elbows. “You’re in college?”

You shake your head. “I graduated a year and a half ago, I’m twenty-four now, but it feels like just yesterday I was taking my finals,” you chuckle. “What was your major, Mr Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung smiled, “Please, call me Wooyoung. Mr Wooyoung just sounds weird. But to answer your question, my major was culinary, of course. Before I taught Hwa how to cook, he was hopeless. I think I was feeding him and Jihee primarily other than his sandwiches and canned soup.” He sighs, leaning back and smirking at Mr Park whose ears are red.

“Hey, Youngah, I paid you for your work. Don’t make me seem incompetent,” Mr Park snorts, leaning over to smack the back of his neck. “Wooyoung may be eight years younger than me but he certainly acts like he’s five.”

You laugh at the banter. “Me and my siblings were the same way. We’d always fight but in the end, we care for each other. It’s sweet to see you guys act the same.” You smile, taking a bite of your stew. “Thank you for letting me sit in on your family dinner.”

Mr Park shakes his head. “Of course. Can’t let you walk on your own at night, you know. I’d be happy to give you a ride home from now on.”

“Ah, no, I can’t make you do that,” you try and decline again but Seonghwa is having none of that.

“It’s not a matter of making me, I offered. I can’t let my babysitter just stand around in the dark. Let me do this for you. Jihee cares for you, she wouldn’t want to make you get hurt.”

You frown, pursing your lips. “I suppose I can’t argue with that,” you concede. “Thank you once again.”

Mr Park shakes his head, his hand moving up to ruffle your hair. “Don’t worry about it.” His hand rests atop your head a moment longer before he remembers who he is in relation to you. “Ah, sorry. Habit from Jihee.”

The heartfelt moment is cut loose by everyone amused at Mr Park’s habit. Jihee immediately takes the initiative to start rambling about stickers, engrossing everyone in the conversation, Wooyoung being particularly vocal. The dinner is finished with no other events, and you offer to help clean up, ignoring Mr Park when he tries to protest.

“Thank you for helping out,” he tries to thank you but you wave your hand dismissively.

“You fed me and are driving me home. It’s the least I could do. Shall we head out though? I don’t want you to have to leave Jihee for too long.”

Mr Park nods, grabbing his keys and jangling them as he opens the door to the garage. You do your best to not show your surprise at the sight of his fancy car. Of course, you knew he was well off, but you never imagined you’d actually be sitting in his car. He even opens the door for you, letting you slide into the passenger seat.

You hold yourself stiffly, but Mr Park looks over and just laughs at you. “Relax, I’m not going to bite you. Just let me know where to go and we’ll be set. Want a piece of gum?”

He holds out a pack of gum and you gladly take the piece, happy for the distraction. Most of the car ride is silent, except for you telling him occasionally where to go. But as he pulls up to your street, he slows to a crawl.

“You know, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around.me. Sure, I’m your employer, but I’m also a dad. I got the dad instinct, you know?” Your lips twitch at his attempt to be comforting. “Really, though. Don’t hold yourself so tight around me. I don’t mind doing this for you.”

You turn your eyes down. “Thank you. I’ll try, it’s just a little weird for me if you understand. But I do appreciate everything you’re doing for me.” As you unbuckle your seatbelt, you smile at Mr Park. “I hope you have a good night.”

As you go to your apartment building, Mr Park leans out of his car and calls after you. “You can call me Seonghwa, (Y/N). Mr Park makes me feel old.”

You laugh at his admission. “We’ll see, grandpa!” You can’t help but tease him before running into your home, leaving an amused Seonghwa outside.

-

These days you and Seonghwa have become a lot more friendly. He’s taken to driving you home despite your protests and during the car rides, some interesting conversations have happened. For example, you learnt that he built his company from the ground and yet is respected in many old money circles.

Okay, maybe you didn’t learn that from a conversation, and instead just searched on the internet. But what can you say? You’re curious about the man who happens to be your charge’s father and the man who happens to be very very handsome.

Maybe you have a bit of a crush on Seonghwa, but you couldn’t blame yourself. There was something about him. It is the aura he holds himself with, the kindness in his smile when he arrives home, and it helps that he is hot. Every so often, you can’t help but find yourself glancing at his pretty hands, or his well-toned arms, and you have to look away before heat spreads up to your ears.

You’re down bad, and it’s not getting any better. Every time you see Seonghwa, you want to jump him but it would be inappropriate. Not only is he your employer, but he’s also a decade older than you. There’s no way he would be interested in you, he probably sees you just as some kid.

With a sigh, you look down at your sketchbook. Today was supposed to be a fun day. Both Jihee and Seonghwa were off today, so you were spending the day with her as Seonghwa was still called into the office to put in some extra hours. But then the toddler fell sick and you were tasked with taking care of her.

At least it was a fairly easy job—Jihee slept most of the day and you were free to work on some of your more personal projects. Although your passion lies in children, you do enjoy drawing and even took a couple of classes in college. As you lay on the couch sketching, you get so lost in your mind you don’t even register the door opening and the footsteps coming towards you.

“Is that me?”

A shriek rips its way out of your throat as you do your best to whirl around and hold your drawings to your chest, but your legs get caught in the blanket and you instead fall half off the couch to the ground. Your chin props your head up on the ground but your legs are still tangled on the couch, your arms twisted into the blanket, the sketchbook an arm’s reach away.

“Hi, Mr– Seonghwa. How was work today?” you mumble half into the carpet, too embarrassed to look up. “Jihee’s taking a nap in her room.”

After a moment of silence, Seonghwa laughs, although it’s a little pained. “Uh. Do you need help up?”

You groan, pulling one of your arms out from your cocoon prison. “That would be great, thanks. Sorry.”

One of his cool hands gently takes your elbow as another comes to rest on your back. It’s at the moment you realise your shirt has ridden up. You can’t help but tense at the touch, hoping the embarrassment doesn’t show on your face. “Jihee’s taking a nap?”

You’re grateful he chose to brush over the incident. “Yeah– yeah. She’s not much better, but she’s not much worse. It’s just a simple cold, so she needs to sleep it off.” You chose to ignore the hand lingering on the small of your back, instead scooching back on your butt to distance yourself just a little bit. He’s your employer, there’s no way you can give in to your feelings.

But the couch seems to be against your plans, as when you try to pull the blankets off your feet you tumble into Seonghwa’s legs, knocking him down as you land on his firm chest. Your face is mere centimetres away from his and you freeze. “I–” you stammer out, Seonghwa equally as awkward.

“Sorry–” He tries to sit up, but it just results in the blankets twisting tighter and pulling you two even closer together. You swear if you could hold your breath, you could feel and hear his heart beating. “Ah, shit.”

You can’t help but laugh a little at his profanity, not something you’ve ever expected to hear from him. “Welcome back, Seonghwa.”

Seognhwa’s eyes widen, his blush deepens, and his head snaps away from you. Your brows furrow at the change in his features and you can’t help but wonder if it’s from the proximity, or if it’s the proximity to you specifically. “Ah. Let’s get out of this, shall we?” he coughs. He carefully detangles himself from the pile and holds out a hand to you.

You grasp it, noting his firm grip and letting him pull you up. “Thanks.”

“I’ll drive you back to your apartment first since Jihee’s asleep right now. It won’t take long.” While Seonghwa’s voice remains warm, his eyes move away from you.

Suddenly a guilty feeling pools in your stomach and you turn away as well, bending to pick up your sketchbook silently. “Of course.” The disappointment fills your head as you internally admonish yourself for even trying to entertain your fantasies of the older man.

But, to your surprise, a warm hand pats you on your shoulder. “You are good at art, (Y/N). You should continue to pursue and practice it, even as just a hobby.” His words make you look up into his eyes and you see a sparkle behind them. “You’re a talented person, and you should take advantage of it.”

“Thank you, Seonghwa,” you smile at him again. “Once again, I appreciate the kindness you offer me.”

Seonghwa chuckles, spinning the car keys as you’ve quickly found out is his habit. “(Y/N), thank you for putting up with such an old man who can offer you nothing but kindness.”

You snort. “You’re not even that old, you geezer.” In retaliation, Seonghwa leans over and pokes you in the forehead.

“Oh, hush and let me take you home.”

-

It’s been almost six months since that day and your feelings have only intensified. But this time, you swear perhaps he may be returning your feelings too. Sometimes you catch him looking at you with a gentle smile, and his hand on your shoulder lingers a little longer than you think. But then he talks to an employee on the phone and you remember how accomplished he is. Even if he wasn’t much older than you, there’s no way you would fit into his lifestyle.

And, like any self-respecting person would do, you start to avoid him. What else are you going to do? Tell him? You’d be crazy to even entertain the thought. There’s no way he would even take you seriously.

These days you’ve just been going to work, and heading straight home. Seonghwa barely has time to catch you, and you’ve been plotting with Jihee to keep him away. She doesn’t quite understand why, but it’s fun to her so she’s happy to. You’re pretty sure half your wallet has gone to sticker sheets. But no matter how many stickers you’ve bought, it doesn’t help Seonghwa from figuring out something is amiss.

It’s your one day off and you’re spending it at home, lounging around and just watching movies while you sulk about your tangled feelings. Watching all these romantic movies doesn’t help at all and you groan. There’s no way you’re going to act like a lonely teenager, you declare to yourself. You’ll go to a club! Maybe meet someone closer to your age and you won’t feel like a wet sock anymore.

That’s it, you’ve convinced yourself. You’ll give yourself a night out. Suddenly inspired, you throw off the blankets covering you and start donning your nicest clothes. There’s a club you used to frequent in your college days, and you haven’t been back since you got the new job. It’d be nice to let loose again.

As the nighttime approaches, you’re almost all ready to go. You have your outfit and your makeup, and all you need is your shoes. Once you pick out your favourite pair of heels (comfy and not too high), you make your way down. You can feel the excitement pounding out of your chest and you can’t wait to get the night started.

As you enter the club, your body immediately relaxes as you take in the atmosphere. It’s been so long, you’re just excited to have fun. Get drunk, find a nice guy, and forget your problems. You down drink after drink, hyping yourself up, but as late night comes, nothing happens. With a sigh, you plunk down your last drink, feeling the buzz of the alcohol burn in your veins.

Nothing will happen tonight, and you just have to come to terms with it. You place down a couple of bills to pay off your tab, tip, and stumble out of the bar. You’re plastered. You can hardly walk in a straight line and you lean against the cool brick for a minute, letting the sensation sober you up a bit as you do your best to call up a taxi.

But before you can do so, a hand creeps onto your bare waist and your head snaps up to see a man, no younger than fifty, leering at you. “Uh, hi?” you slur out, your hands fiddling with your phone as you try and discreetly move to the phone app. You may be plastered, but you’re not a fool and you know what could happen in this situation.

Unfortunately, the old man seems to know what you’re trying and he grabs one of your wrists. “Now, pretty lady, take a break there. Why don’t you come hang out with me for a bit?” His words are greasy and slimy, and you almost gag at the idea of what he’s insinuating. At least Seonghwa isn’t triple your age…and he’s hot.

“Ah, no thanks,” you manage to push past him, pressing your most recent contact and holding the phone to your ear. “I’m a little uh…” You’re cut off when whoever you call starts speaking.

“(Y/N)? Why are you calling me? It’s nine.” Seonghwa’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Are you okay?”

“Ah, shit,” you groan, stumbling to your side and colliding with the wall. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you. I’m just out and–”

Once again, the old man approaches you and pulls you back by the waist. “Come on, pretty. Get off the phone and pay attention to me.”

You shake your head and pull away again, moving even more down the street. “No, no, I’m not– just leave me alone. I want to go home,” you say, shaking your head, still holding the phone to your face. “Just…I wanna go home.”

“(Y/N), are you okay? Where are you?” You can hear the worry in Seonghwa’s voice rise and a faint jingling of keys. “I’m going to get you. Wooyoung’s here so he can watch Jihee. Talk to me, (Y/N).”

“I’m at the club Desire. Or near it. I don’t know.” Your head is muddled and no matter where you look, the street signs are blurring and the old man is still trying to get your attention. “I just want to go home,” you repeat, tears springing to your eyes. “I thought I told you to leave me alone!”

The old man growls at your tone, grabbing at you again. “Don’t be stupid, child. You can come home with me and I’ll teach you how to be proper for a man like you.” His breath reeks of alcohol and bad breath and you instinctively slap him across the face. Surprised, he jerks back, and you take a couple of shaky steps back again.

“Leave me be! I don’t want you near me.”

The old man’s eyes narrow at you and he takes one menacing step forward, his hand raising to strike you but you bring up your arms to block the slap, whimpering in pain when the hit lands and your phone clatters out of your hand. “You insolent child!” Your eyes squeeze shut and you hope Seonghwa gets there soon.

-

Seonghwa has never driven so fast in his life. He’s racing through the lights and he counts his lucky stars that they’re all green and that the police aren’t around right now. He can hear arguing coming from his phone and he’s calm enough knowing you’re at least still on the phone. But then he hears a noise and what he assumes to be your phone falling on the ground. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself. “Please, please be okay, (Y/N).”

Stepping on the gas, he roars around the corner to the club you mentioned, praying you’re still there. As he gets out, he’s looking around but can’t seem to find you. “(Y/N)?” he calls out. “Where are you?”

He races down the street to find you pinned against the wall, your hands attempting to push an old geezer away and he sees red. He marches right up, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from your shaking figure. “Fuck off,” he growls in his face, delighting in the fear that moves across his face. “Don’t let me catch you near this place again. Now fuck off!”

He practically throws the old man to his knees before turning and cupping your face. “Seonghwa,” you practically sob. He can still see the drunken haze in your eyes but it’s almost completely cleared up now and his brow furrows even more.

“Come on, I’m taking you home.” He pulls you along and you do your best to keep up with him in your inebriated state. “I can’t believe you would do this! Have you no sense of security? Why didn’t you get anyone to come with you? Why would you call a taxi outside of the establishment?”

He still opens the car door for you and you slide immediately in, eyes staring wide at the pristine dashboard. He slides in and puts the car in the ignition before sitting back and groaning in frustration. “I hope you’re ready to talk as soon as we get inside,” he gripes. “I still am so shocked, (Y/N). You act so mature about Jihee, but what happened then? You could’ve been hurt…no, you were hurt!”

He continues his rant driving up to your street, ushering you into the elevator and into your place. “Do you know how my heart dropped when I saw you struggling? I don’t want to see you hurt. You need to take care of yourself.”

As he yells at you, his eyes rake over you to see if you’re injured any further, but something else stops him and the words die in his throat. You’re wearing a sheer shirt, your lacy bra underneath just showing off your chest. Your leather skirt has ridden up your thighs and your eyes fill with unshed tears. And something burns in his brain.

It’s been months since he hired you, and with each passing day, he finds himself more and more attracted to you. He berated himself every time these unwanted thoughts popped into his head. Sure, you’re sweet, good with kids, and are passionate about what you care about. But you’re also so young. You can do so much better than him, a single father with no prospects.

But seeing you like this, heat sparks in his gut and he leans in, his face mere inches away from yours. “When you wear things like that, it makes me want to rip them off you and do things even that creep couldn’t even imagine,” his low voice pierces through your thoughts and your mouth gapes open.

“I’m okay with that,” you whisper, hand reaching out to brush against his chest, but Seonghwa blinks as he realises what he just tried to do, and he jerks back. Your eyes flash with hurt and Seonghwa would like to hit himself for doing that to you but he can’t let you come onto him when you’re still drunk.

“I– I’m sorry,” you whisper, your hands reaching behind you to steady yourself on the wall. “I just felt so lonely. I wanted to be wanted.” 

Seonghwa’s breath stutters as he stares down into your wavering eyes. “I–” He wants you so bad. But he can’t bring himself to say it. Not when you’re drunk. “Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He turns away and hears your disappointed sigh alongside your footsteps trudging to your bedroom. With a groan, he sits on the couch with his head in his hands. He wants to reassure you, but he can’t help but feel guilty about it. But he’s still straining in his pants and after locating your bathroom, he sits on the shower bench, leaning against the cool tile and breathing in and out. With a groan, he unzips his pants and pulls out his half-hard cock. The feeling of regret rises but he pushes it down to his gut as he spits in his hand and presses his thumb against the head of his dick.

As he wraps his hand around his cock and pumps it, he can’t help but close his eyes and imagine you. You with your mouth wrapped around his cock, with your hands gripping his thighs. You seated on his throbbing member, grinding your hips against him as you lean down to kiss him. He can feel his dick jump and he wonders what it’ll feel like to fill you with his cum.

He lets out a broken moan as his grip turns tighter. His image of you would scratch your nails down his back. He can almost hear your little whines and breathy moans as your hips work over him. You’d lean in and whisper into his mouth, “Seonghwa, fuck me hard,” and—

Seonghwa sighs as he looks down at his cum-coated hand and the mix of shame and relief swirling around his brain. Maybe he should just go to sleep on the couch and hope he doesn’t dream of you. As he washes his hand and goes to lie down, he can already feel a stress headache coming on. He hopes you’ll at least fare better in the morning.

-

When you awaken, you have a throbbing pain in your head and you groan and roll out of bed. You’ve taken your club shirt off as well as your skirt, but your bra and underpants are still on. You’re sure your makeup is smudged too and you have no clue how you got home but all you want is some coffee and oatmeal.

You trudge to the kitchen, rubbing your eyes from sleep. There’s a blanket fallen on the floor so you toss it onto the couch and head straight into the kitchen to start your coffee maker. As you lean against the counter and yawn.

“(Y/N), are you feeling better?”

A voice calls out from behind you and you shriek, whirling around to see a sleepy Seonghwa, blanket wrapped around him and his hair a mess. You shriek again, realising how little you’re clothed and duck behind the counter, your cheeks flaming and your heart beating faster than you ever thought it could.

“What are you doing here?” you force out, your voice tight.

“Do…do you not remember last night at all?” You do remember most of what happened. He took you home, but that’s about as far as you remember. And you’re not sure you want to know the rest of it. But you’re far too embarrassed to admit, so you put your acting skills to use. You’re not sure you can handle the shame of a real conversation.

“What?” you ask, forcing your voice to pitch higher as you slowly stand back up, hands covering your chest. “I didn’t– Oh my God, I’m so sorry if I came onto you. I was drunk, I must’ve been out of my mind. Please accept my deepest apologies.”

You notice Seonghwa’s eyes trail down to your chest and then snap back up to your face as if he’s forcing himself to and he chokes out a breath. Despite the headache, your mouth twitches. Maybe you’re still a little out of it. “No, nothing like that. I fetched you from the club because you called me to save you from a creep. Then I took you home and we slept.”

You sigh. “I’m glad. I do apologise for whatever my behaviour was. It was out of line and it won’t happen again. I understand if you want to let me go–”

“No!” Seonghwa’s outburst surprises you and your eyes widen. The lack of clothes you’re wearing has been long forgotten and you move around the counter to stand in front of him. Seonghwa has the decency to look a little embarrassed at the volume of his voice. “Sorry. I just…it’s like you’re a part of our family already. I care for you just as much as I care for Jihee.”

Ah. He thinks of you like a child. Your suspicions were right. You turn slightly to face away from him, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “I see. Well, I appreciate that. It’s nice to have a second family,” you chuckle, internally beating yourself up. How could you even entertain the thought of the two of you being together? “Let me change, and I’ll walk you out.”

As you return to your room, you finally let your heart sink as tears brim in your eyes. You hastily wipe them away as you rummage in the pile of clothes on your bed for something fairly appropriate to wear. First, you make a fool of yourself in front of Seonghwa, and then your crush is unfounded. You can’t seem to catch a break.

With a sigh, you pull on some shorts and a large shirt before heading back out. “Hey, (Y/N), could we talk first?” Seonghwa asks, still standing in between the kitchen and the living room as his eyes flit around nervously.

After some hesitation, you finally find your voice. “Sure? What’s up? You can sit on the couch if you want.”

Seonghwa takes a seat, hiking up his sweatpants and you move to the floor across the little coffee table. “Last night…you told me something.” Oh no. This is it. You bite your lower lip and look down, awaiting his next words. “Uh. So. You think you came onto me, right? Well. It was. Uh. It may have been me.”

You blink at him foolishly as your brain tries to wrap itself around your head. “You what?”

Seonghwa raises his hands and lowers his head ashamedly. “Let me explain, please. I saw you outside with that horrid excuse of a human and something in me snapped. I just wanted to protect you and I brought you home. But seeing you in that outfit? It just made me want you. And I told you. And you reciprocated. At least, you tried to.” He chuckles a little to himself, bringing up his hand to grip at his hair. “I told you we would talk in the morning. But one thing you said stuck with me. You wanted to be wanted. And all night I’ve been thinking about it. (Y/N), you were drunk. But you weren’t that drunk. Something you said had truth to it. Please. For my own sanity, tell me how you feel about me. Please.”

His voice cracks at the last syllable and something in your heart hurts at the sound. “Seonghwa I…I do care for you. More than I should. You’ve shown me unbendable compassion and you’ve never taken my words or myself for granted…or treated me like a child. Against my better judgment, I’ve fallen for you.” You sigh, tightening your fists. “I’ve been hating myself for the better part of six months because of it. You were so much better than me. In job, in maturity. What was I supposed to do? I went to the club to forget you, but it appears that didn’t work.”

Seonghwa stands quickly, shuffling over to kneel in front of you. “How could you think such a thing? Me better than you? Don’t make me laugh. I may be older than you, and yes, I have a better-paying job. But in the end, how could you compare? You’re amazing with Jihee. You’ve managed to teach her in ways I could hardly hope to imagine. And just because I have a higher wage doesn’t mean your job is less important. I wasn’t lying when I said it felt like you were already part of the family.”

“You told me you thought of me like Jihee,” you argue, and Seonghwa laughs, leaning forward to take your hands.

“I said I care for you as much as I care for Jihee. Not in the same way, (Y/N).” Seonghwa smiles kindly. “I know if this does happen we’ll need to put a lot of care into this, but if you’ll have me, I’d like to be with you.”

You’re not sure whether this is a dream or not, staring up at Seonghwa with wide eyes. You’d be a fool if you said no, but the worries in your head won’t seem to cease. Taking a deep breath, you push them aside and smile up at him. “I’ll have you, Seonghwa.”

As soon as the words fall out of your mouth you can see Seonghwa’s eyes crinkle as he smiles and leans in, his nose almost touching yours. “May I kiss you?” he murmurs in his deep voice, and instead of gracing him with a reply, you meet him in a soft kiss.

His large hands cup your face as he deepens the kiss, and his thumbs brush against your cheekbones. “You’re so pretty,” he hums, pressing a multitude of pecks to your lips. “Last night I was so conflicted. Seeing you like that made me almost go insane.”

An idea sparks in your brain, and a smile widens on your face. Your fingers crawl up his shoulders to rest your arms on them. “How insane?” you ask, and Seonghwa’s eyes darken.

“I’ll show you,” he grows before capturing your lips with his once again. This time his arms shift to wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer until you’re practically pressed against his body. You squeak at the sudden movement but it’s swallowed by the kiss.

He pulls you onto his lap and you can feel the growing hardness in his slacks. You wriggle your hips a little, grinding down, and the moan that Seonghwa lets out is heaven to your ears. “Fuck, (Y/N). You’re so pretty,” he repeats, burying his face in your neck and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You whine at the pain blooming into pleasure and your hands fist into his hair. Your precious sounds get to Seonghwa and he groans, moving your legs to wrap around his waist and he hoists you up and brings you over to the couch. “Your noises are so pretty, baby,” Seonghwa groans into your mouth. “Can’t wait to hear them when you’re wrapped around my cock.”

“Please–” is all you can muster out and your whines only serve to make Seonghwa’s cock harder in his pants.

With a groan, he pats your ass, motioning for you to move up. As soon as your hips lift, he grabs the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down to your knees, leaving your underwear and shirt on. In the same motion, he shoves his slacks and boxers down just far enough to let his cock spring free.

“Seonghwa–”  you whine and something in Seonghwa’s stomach burns at the idea of you crying on his throbbing dick. He sits back, guiding you to sit right above his cock as he moves it to rub against your soaked underwear. Every time the angry-red tip of it brushes against your clit you let out breathy moans and it only serves to make Seonghwa impossibly harder.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” Seonghwa breathes, his free hand coming up to brush against your face. A smile blooms on your face as you bend to kiss him again.

“Then don’t.”

Something flips in Seonghwa’s brain and he lifts you, pushes your underwear to the side, and lets his cock press into you slowly. The both of you throw your head back and groan loudly at the feeling of him slowly filling you up. He’s not the biggest you’ve had but that doesn’t matter as the sting of the stretch is enough to make you drool. You can hardly speak as you whine nonsense into his ear and let your head drop to the crook of his neck.

“You fit around me so well,” Seonghwa praises, his head spinning at the feeling of finally fucking you the way he dreamed of. It was only yesterday he was fucking into his hand at the thought of you and here he is, only a few hours later, his painfully hard member inside of you. “Look at you, a mess for me. Bet you’ve never been with an older man before. Do I make you feel good, baby?”

You clench at his words. “Fuck, yes, the best I’ve had,” you babble, squirming at the already overwhelming feeling. “You’re so good to me.”

Seonghwa laughs delightedly at how gone you seem to be not five minutes in. “So precious, especially for me, (Y/N). Sitting on my dick so prettily.” He gives a little experimental thrust upwards and you gasp. The noises you make are so addictive, he can’t help but do it again. And again.

You’re panting, moaning as he fills you up so deliciously and your hands grip at his now-wrinkled dress shirt. His cool hands slide up your baggy shirt to shove up your bra and cup your boobs. The weight of them sitting in his hands makes him groan as he leans in to mouth at them through your shirt.

“Been dreaming about these tits since last night. Jerked off in the bathroom after seeing you, you know?” Your eyes widen at the admission and Seonghwa smirks at how embarrassed you look. “Wanted you so bad and you thought I wouldn’t like you in that way? You’re so cute, (Y/N).” He punctuates each word with one thrust after another.

The feeling of his dick pumping into you as well as Seonghwa’s teeth scraping against the soft flesh of your tits makes you so overwhelmed. It’s almost embarrassing how close you are already, and Seonghwa knows it, chucking up at you from between your chest. “Aw, baby, you’re so far gone. Am I that good?”

You cry out and sink your teeth into the junction of his shoulder and neck. You’re trying so hard to keep your noises down but Seonghwa isn’t having any of that. His hand finds its way to your hair, gently tugging on it until your head falls back, exposing the column of your neck.

As his warm breath ghosts over it, you stiffen, and when he moves up from your chest to lick a stripe up it and nip at your earlobe, you come with a groan. Your hips are shaking from the intensity of it but his thrusts don’t stop and soon you’re whining from the overstimulation.

And he still hasn’t come.

“Fuck, Seonghwa, it’s so much,” you groan, mouth hanging open. Seonghwa greedily swoops in to capture your lips once more, licking into your mouth as his thrusts become more and more erratic.

His dick twitches and he groans. “Where do you want me? I’m clean,” Seonghwa mumbles into your mouth.

You shift your hips a little. “I’m clean too and on the pill, so it’s on you. I don’t care, I just want you, Hwa.”

Your words spark something in Seonghwa and he thrusts upwards, once, and his cum starts filling you. It’s searingly hot, settling deep in your gut and you throw your head back and moan so goddamn loud. His throbbing cock is twitching like crazy and it’s still pumping cum into you. Seonghwa’s hand slides down your body to tweak at your nipples, thumb over your flesh, and finally come to rub little circles into your clit.

You gasp and it feels like you’re touching heaven from the extra stimulation. “Gonna fill you up so well,” Seonghwa groans. “Do you think Jihee would like a sibling?” 

Your thoughts all blur together at his sentence and you come again with a groan. Your cunt squeezes around him so deliciously and a sob breaks its way out of your throat, one that Seonghwa eagerly swallows as he kisses you again.

His thrusts start to slow down and you slowly pull off his now-softening dick and settle back down on his lap. His hands push his leaking cum back into your pulsating pussy and you sigh at the feeling.

“Well, that was quite the escalation,” Seonghwa laughs quietly as he pulls both your and his pants back up and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. His hand pats your butt and you squirm and slap his chest softly.

“You’re lucky I’m on the pill.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly and Seonghwa hums, capturing your lips in his yet again. He can’t get enough of your plush lips and you’re not complaining at all.

“I’m lucky to have you, period,” he sighs happily. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You smile and sit up, ignoring the whines that come out of Seonghwa’s mouth at the lack of contact. “Well, I couldn’t let you be a lonely old man,” you tease and Seonghwa smacks your ass again.

“Can old man do what I just did?” You’re suddenly lying on your back with Seonghwa hovering over you, a crooked smile growing on his face. “Or do you need another demonstration?”

You smile and throw your arms around his shoulders and pull him closer. “I don’t know, sir, maybe you should show me once more.”

With a nip to your lips, Seonghwa leans in and your eyes crinkle at the promise of what’s to come.

[cinnamonest]

I've been thinking more about promiscuous darlings which led me to the idea of prostitute!darling, and I was thinking about that like in that event a while back where Paimon says Kaveh seems like “the kind of guy that would be easy to take advantage of” and it got me thinking how quickly and readily he would fall in love with a prostitute… literally lured and baited as easily as a fish to a hook.

He doesn't like the thought of what he's doing, initially. He's never been the sort of person who associates with morally questionable things — he’s heard that a lot of those girls don't really want to be doing it, they just need money, so participating would be taking advantage of them, wouldn't it? He couldn't do something so awful.

But he's got a lot of pent up frustration. His work is hard, he's not in a good place financially, he's stressed, pent up, and has no outlet for release. And even if he strives to be a good person, he's still a guy, still has urges that, when gone unmet, only contribute to that frustration.

In hindsight, he feels like something possessed him. Couldn't say exactly what caused him to take a course of action so far removed from what he would have thought was his personal character.

It's just a particularly bad day, after particularly disagreeable clients spent a particularly long time endlessly getting in his face and complaining and snapping at him, he worked particularly late and is particularly frustrated and seething and wallowing as he sulks home so late at night, and he's particularly irritated because some construction going on forces him to take a different route home, and—

You just so happen to call out to him. And when he turns his head, he immediately stiffens up.

So pretty. You have that specific body type he’s always found most alluring, always pictured in his head when he would lay in bed and jerk off all day after classes. And he can certainly tell, because those outfits you girls on this part of the street wear certainly leave very little to the imagination. So much skin, he can see your entire leg, from the hip down to the ankles and all the curving along the way, he can see most of your tits too, cleavage spilling out from the top. It's immediately captivating. If he was thinking straight, he would suppose that's kind of the point, but he's too lost in the sudden burst of stimulation to his eyes to think about much at all.

You have such a nice smile, such a sweet voice. And now that you have his attention, you put on that whimsical feminine charm, shift your weight from one foot to the other, hips swaying all playfully, and he has to ask you to repeat what you said because he didn't hear you the first time, he was too distracted, and it feels so embarrassing to say that, but you just giggle — it's so cute — and repeat your question — if he wants to come inside.

He swallows, stumbles over his words at the prospect, you're being very forward — oh, wait, you probably mean come inside the building. Oh… that makes more sense, at this stage in the process. Whoops…

But that isn't much better. He's still red in the face and hesitates, all uh, ah, I, um, I just…

Yes, he isn't sure exactly what possesses him. It’s not something he would ever do on his own, surely. It feels more like the word comes out of his mouth on its own.

Sure.

The following events seem almost surreal, in hindsight. He can't remember what you even talked about, some empty meaningless conversation about what he does for a living or if he's been around this area before, some placeholder of a conversation that he knows full well is merely a courtesy to make it all feel a little more natural, empty words that are mutually understood to be just a buffer to prevent awkwardness as you walk up the stairs, to fill the short span of time before you get to the point.

He remembers said point a lot better. Long after it's over, he can remember the feeling of your mouth on his, and the way you pulled on the back of his neck to pull him on top of you, the rush of euphoric chemicals to the brain the moment you pulled just one little button undone and the whole thing you're wearing comes falling off, the visual of your body (he’s never actually seen a girl naked in real life before, it’s so captivating, the anatomy textbooks don’t do it justice), and the way your tits bounce with the movements and the way they feel in his mouth and the image of his cock driving into you over and over (no one ever told him it feels so warm and wet, so good, has he really been missing out on this all this time?) and the sounds you made are practically permanently burned into his brain.

So much so, he keeps thinking about it for days on end. He felt kind of sad when he left, but he knows that he only paid for a limited time slot, so it would be unfair to ask to stay any longer, but the way you smiled and waved and told him you hoped to see him again — still naked, body pressed up against the doorframe, the way your chest shifted when you waved — made him feel so warm, made his heart beat fast all over again.

It's all so distracting. He works at a much slower pace than usual, the following days, keeps getting distracted by the lingering visuals in his head and the way he keeps getting hard whenever he thinks about it, and not to mention the guilt.

Yes, as euphoric as it was, he feels terrible. Like he's done something wrong. Swears to himself that he'll forget about it and never do it again, that it was a one-time thing.

But he begins to rationalize it to himself.

Sure, you do it because you need money, but that means that if no one participated in the exchange, then you wouldn't make any money at all, and that would be worse, right? Besides, everyone knows some of those guys that engage in this sort of thing are terrible, mean people — but he's not, he's a really nice guy! So by seeing you, by being the one to buy your time, he's protecting you from potentially having to do it with really bad men. So, when you think about it, he's actually doing something really good.

And it improves his life, too. The next day, he finds that the nagging clients don't really get under his skin at all. Sure, they're complaining and being mean to him, but he's not really paying attention, it all feels far away, like it's not even real. He just feels full of this warm, fuzzy feeling, total bliss, like floating, without a care in the world. He isn't stressed, isn't worried. He even thinks to himself that, you know what, that task or that work can wait until tomorrow, no rush, and if someone gets mad about it, too bad.

He ends up just laying in bed, grinning like an idiot, basking in the euphoric high that lasts him several days on end.

…Except then, it fades away.

Soon he's back to the stress, constant state of being overwhelmed, the little things start to upset him again, and he actually feels more miserable than he did before, now that he has such a good feeling to compare to.

You said you hope he comes back, didn’t you? And he’s pretty sure he stuttered out an o-oh, okay, so now he’s obligated.

Thus, soon enough, he's back.

It's not like he's intentionally seeking you out. He just felt like walking home a different way today, is all, which just so happens to be the route that took him by you last time, and he has no intention of seeing you, it just so happens to be the case that you are standing around outside and you do happen to see him and you choose to call out to him (by his name!! You remember him!!), you're smiling and have such a sweet voice, you clearly want him to come in (do you like him? You wouldn't be smiling if you didn't, right?) and it would be mean of him to reject you, wouldn't it?

Yes, you're clearly happy. You smile all over again. He's not doing anything wrong, it's only wrong if the girl doesn't like doing it. He would never taken advantage of one of those vulnerable girls that's forcing herself to do it for money. But you're not like that, so it's okay.

Which is how he ends up back there a third time. Because it's okay, and it makes you happy, and it makes him very happy, so it's all okay.

And besides, what you two have is different. It's not like the normal cases, where the girl is just in it for money and doesn't want the guy at all. You clearly enjoyed your time with him. Probably a welcome relief from all the gross old guys you have to see.

And it's different because it's not just sex. Normally, with this sort of thing, it's cold and impersonal, isn't it?

But you smile so sweet and run your fingers through his hair, and cradle his head in your arms and pull him close and coo and fuss and run your fingers down his back. And since he intends to pay for the entire night this time, you get to just lay there together, and you're so warm and soft and you smile and giggle as he talks, so pretty, so nice to him, your skin is so good to touch, you smell so nice.

And the sex itself is different too — you like it, genuinely, he can tell, you make such nice sounds and lewd faces and look directly into his eyes and pull his head forward to kiss him (he one heard someone say that prostitutes never kiss clients, so if you do that it must mean he's different), and you hold him so close and tighten up around him and it feels so so so so good, and the way you quiver and the sounds get louder and you squeal and spasm and it's so so SO good, too good, it feels so passionate that it has to be real.

Yes, it is real. It's not just acting. He can feel the slick wetness all over his hips from you, that means it's real. And you don't even mind when he gets a bit lost in the feeling, starts to really let all the pent-up irritation out, gets rougher and harder and holds you by your throat. He feels so terrible after he cums and realizes what he was doing, keeps sputtering out apologies over and over, but you smile and wave your hand and say it's more than fine, giggle and kiss his forehead, say you wouldn't expect it from such a sweet boy like him, but you like it. If you're fine with it, if you like it, then you're not scared he might actually hurt you. You must really trust him, then.

The downside is that now, work feels so miserable. He keeps thinking about how much he wants to go back to you. Each project feels like torture — why is he here, negotiating with these disagreeable people, slaving away all night, when he could be balls deep in you again, hear your voice, feel your touch?

And he starts to get so irritated and frustrated again, and he finds that this time around, he doesn't have to sit there and let the frustration hit a peak before deciding to do something, he doesn't have to rationalize it for hours on end just to allow himself to give into the urge — the moment the frustration rises, his mind immediately settled on the decision. He has to go see you. You'll make everything better.

Except now, he realizes as he reaches into his drawers, there's a different problem.

…He has no money left.

That means he can't see you. He spent all his savings on you last time.

It makes him feel sick. This can't be happening. What is he supposed to do? He can't just go back to dealing with the frustration all the time! Now that he knows what it's like to be so happy, he can't go without it. He needs it.

It's not just the sex itself, he's not some kind of degenerate, he wants to see you! That's wholesome and good, isn't it? So it’s not like he’s some sort of pervert addicted to sex itself, he’s addicted to you.

And besides, if he isn't there for you, you'll have to deal with other men, and most guys who see prostitutes are bad guys, right? What if one of them hurts you? What if you're expecting him to come, and then you'll feel hurt and sad if he doesn't? You'll be disappointed. He can't let that happen.

So where is he supposed to get money from…?

Well. He has a few means, as he starts to brainstorm a bit. Right, there is a small stash of emergency money he had put away at the bottom of another drawer, that he was saving for a situation where he needed it, but put it away so he wouldn't be tempted to spend it on something unnecessary.

But this isn't like that. It is necessary, for him to continue functioning properly. And for you to have the money to get by! Not only is he guaranteeing your safety for the night, but what if you didn't get anyone if he didn't come? Well, it's unlikely no one would come, but still, you might not make enough money, and what happens then? Don't those guys that own the brothels get really mean to the girls that don't make enough? He can't have that happen. So, this situation absolutely justifies the use of the emergency stash. It's enough to give him another three nights or so. He can just use enough money for one visit, and then by the time he needs another one, he'll have brought in some new money.

No, no, you know what? You need it more than he does. He just gives it all to you at once, and to be honest, it does make his heart skip a beat when your eyes widen in shock. This way, he can reserve the next three nights in a row, right? He originally intended to space them out a bit, but, no, he’s already here, and he’s really needy right now, he’ll just do three nights in a row and figure out how to get more later. He'll just pay upfront. You're so happy. It makes him feel good.

And then, as the night goes on, when you're laying there all curled up together talking about all sorts of things, he off-handedly mentions that you wear that dress of yours all the time, he's never seen you without it, is it your favorite?

And then you get this sheepish look on your face, give an awkward laugh, say that well, you don't really have any other clothes, you sold them all to get by before you ended up here, and you give so much back to the owners that you just don't have enough to get any more…

That's so sad. Poor thing. You can't just not have enough clothes… well, he only has a few things he changes back and forth himself, but girls are really into clothes and stuff, aren't they? You deserve to have nice things, it's sad that you don't get to. He keeps it in mind, says he promises he'll get you something. You say he doesn’t have to. You’re so sweet and considerate. That just makes him want to help you even more.

So when his next project is complete and he gets the payout for it, sure, he only needs about half of it to pay you for one or two nights each week for the next month, and he could get you something cheap and still have a little left over for rent, but… you deserve nice stuff. And the nice stuff would make you so much happier, too, it would earn him favor from you… besides, he has another project he'll finish soon, he can just pay late rent using that.

So he can get the nice stuff. Besides, even shopping exclusively for higher-end stuff, it's still a bit cheaper to buy the super revealing clothes, since they use less fabric. Not that he's a pervert or anything, it's just that you need clothes like that for your job, don't you? It's part of how you lure guys in. The fact that you'll look really nice in it to him is just a side bonus, it's really for your sake.

…Which, actually, does make him feel a bit sick to his stomach. He's getting you clothes that you'll use to hook other guys who aren't him. But, no, he's a mature person, he can't… let himself get upset about something like that… it’s not your fault… he'll just choose to not think about it.

He can distract himself with how happy you are. Your eyes light up and you smile so big and you stand on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his face all over. You're happy. You're really, really happy, because of him, he made you happy, his heart is beating so fast, and when you put them on it shows off even more than he thought it would, you can almost see everything, it just barely covers the bare minimum and you seem to really like that, you pull him close and reach a leg up behind him and pull his hips forward and the rest of the night is a hazy blur of lust and euphoria, you're so happy, and he's happy too.

It feels so good. He's been missing out on this all these years. It's the best feeling of anything in the world. He's so, so happy.

He's so happy that people in his life start to comment on it. They ask if something good happened, they say they're glad he seems less stressed. He just shrugs it off, says he's just been feeling better recently, or makes something up about a different change in habits.

And sure, he has to tell Alhaitham that he won't have rent just this one time, it's just that something came up, although he won't specify what it is, but he makes it sound important — not dishonestly, because it is important, it's just that he knows that the first assumption one would make would he something a bit… more important, but if that assumption is made, that's not his fault.

Nonetheless, he's soon out of money again. Gets hit with the same wave of panic. He's got a routine now, a habit, he's dependent on you for his stress. He needs it. If he doesn't get what he needs, how is he supposed to go on? How is he supposed to function? He can't just use his hand anymore, it's not enough, it doesn't have the same effect. And he can't just beg you to sleep with him anyway, he knows you need money, he would never put you in that situation, it would be unfair to you, he's a better man than that. He has to pay you somehow.

He has some things he doesn't need. Tools he hasn't used in ages. Some stuff he hasn't worn or needed in a long time. He can sell a few things.

And, you know what, this client has been really mean to him anyway, so if he cuts a few corners to get paid a bit earlier, it's no big deal, the guy doesn't deserve his best work anyway. It’s a mentality he normally would never take, but… this is different. This is a unique situation that calls for such measures.

And he's taken out loans before from the bank, usually for projects, and he usually pays it back, so they undoubtedly assume it's just another case of that, so he'll take out a decently sized loan… of course, he may need more money for more upcoming projects, and then they won't give him a new loan until he pays back the old one, but… well, he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

And normally, he would never, ever, ever do something bad, he's a person who prides himself on his moral values, but it's not like he's doing something bad in this case, its just pure coincidence that he happens to find some guy’s wallet dropped on the ground. It just so happens to have a lot of money in it. And he returns the wallet itself into the nearest law enforcement, he gives the object itself and all the IDs and such back. He's sure the rightful owner would pay him for the good deed anyway. And when you think about it, the fact that this would happen to him just when he needed it, it's probably some kind of divine grace that this happened, and who is he to deny what the higher powers gift him with?

He can keep making it work. And he can keep buying out larger and larger blocks of your time, to ensure no one else gets to you — after that one time he arrived to find out you were already occupied for the time being, it practically made his blood boil, made him feel so sick he walked home and couldn't get the images out of his mind of you with someone else, he can't let that happen again, it would kill him inside.

Likewise, he has to get a bit more earnings, take on some more jobs, sacrifice some more sleep because you keep hinting at certain things you want, and if he doesn't buy them for you, who will? It's all stuff you need anyway — well, stuff you need for your job, all the fancy jewelry and perfumes and clothes and stuff. And he gets benefits, too — your love and favor, you take initiative more, you ride him and kiss him more and let him do all sorts of filthy things you don't let anyone else do (he knows because you told him so), you even let him stop wearing protection when he sleeps with you, and it's so much better, it's completely different, he can't go back to the old way, having to be deprived of that warm, wet heat would be utterly miserable. You even give him a night or two for free, because you like him so much, tell him it should be a secret just between you two, okay? Of course, you can't do it all for free, so he has to come back again soon, but you know, this way, he'll stay incentivized, which is good — because you want him to come back because you like him, not for money, no, never that.

You tell him he's your favorite. You say that he makes you happy. You say you would be heartbroken if he ever stopped coming. You say that you need him.

You say that you love him.

He feels like he's going to die of happiness right there on the spot.

You mention that if someone just paid off your price to the owner (said buying price is whatever the owner decides), plus the debt you accumulate from staying here (it's well known that those fees are how they trap these poor girls into endless servitude), then you would be free — that if someone just pays for you, you could be free to do what you want, that you could sleep with him every day, you could even get married.

So he has to do it. He feels bad about the concept of buying a human being, but, his situation is different, because he's a good guy and loves you. Besides, the sooner he does, then the sooner you'll never have sex with anyone but him ever again. He's saving you, really.

And if he doesn't, what if someone else does? What if someone else took you away from him? He can't even imagine it. The very notion makes him feel nauseous, panicked, distraught. He can't let that happen.

It's not unfeasible. If he really budgets well, saves just a little at a time, he can get you out in no time. Just a year or so. He'll start saving.

And sure, he hasn't paid rent in a while now, and he gets these questions of where his money is going, why he's leaving late at night when he never did that before, all these pesky questions he shouldn't have to answer, because it's none of your business, as he mutters in response. He's just got too much going on right now, and strapped for cash, he'll pay it back eventually, that's what matters.

…Which also makes him realize that, even if he does buy you, you'll have to just come live here with him, and how is he supposed to explain that to Alhaitham… he can just say he got a girlfriend, right? Still, people might recognize you, he'd find out eventually, and then he'd probably realize all the missed rent payments were actually going to him getting laid, and that's… not good… he just wouldn't understand, he's totally lacking in any understanding of romanticism or love… such unfeeling pragmatists are so annoying to deal with… he'll just have to deal with that when it happens…

Except it does end up happening sooner than later. Someone or another (some jerk who can't keep their mouth shut, he'll find out eventually), must have seen him around at night, going to you, and that same person must have reported on him (like a grade school tattletale crying to a teacher, hmph!) and that's how he eventually gets confronted, point blank (absolutely no sense of tact or appropriateness!), one night as he’s trying to leave to go see you, but finds the other blocking the door.

Are you blowing your money on a whore?

Of course, before addressing the matter directly, it's important to point out that it is rude to call women terms like that, they are prostitutes and they deserve to be respected as much as anyone else—

So you are.

Which starts off a much bigger, longer, more heated argument, in which he tries to explain that no he’s not dodging the question and that it is not prostitution, you two are in a relationship, you just so happen to also be a prostitute, but he's trying to help you change that— hey, what's with the sighing like that and rubbing the bridge of his nose like he's exasperated? It's true! You even said you love him!

Okay, yes, maybe it's true that they all say that, but in this case, you mean it, you're different, he wouldn't get it.

And sure, the whole thing is probably surprising from him of all people— what do you mean it's not that surprising? What's that supposed to mean? What— who are you calling an “ideal target”?! That's so mean! You—

And despite his best efforts, there is no point in trying to use reason with someone so cold and devoid of capacity to understand love. It's futile. How pessimistic, so annoying. Besides, he's implying you're a bad person, and he can't stand for that. No, you're not using him, how could he say that?

Eventually it becomes very clear that the conversation is going nowhere, it's very much like talking to a brick wall, someone who just refuses to even try and understand what you two have. No matter. Fine, fine, he'll focus on paying back rent first, but then he's going to buy you, and then he'll see firsthand how loving you are (and surely will not charge him extra for another person living in the house, as he was just threatened with)… he'll see. Eventually.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

I have been openly living as a trans man for some years now. And I'm at a point where it doesn't take up so much mental space anymore.

Don't get me wrong: I certainly do not mean "it doesn't matter anymore" here. I am not a "just call me whatever pronouns, I do not care" person and I don't think I ever will be. Nothing wrong with feeling that way, it's just not how I feel. Being adressed with my name and my pronouns is still important for my mental well-being, and it still triggers feelings of dysphoria when people misgender me.

Even apart from misgendering: My identity is still important, and it always will be! Being trans is not some small thing that loses its importance over time. It's who I am. Being a man - and having grown up in a society that told me I wasn't - influences the way I experience everything in my life (from my self-image to my relationships with others to... well, everything).

What I do mean here is: Before coming out to others, and also before coming out to myself and accepting myself as a man, there were naturally a lot of questions running circles in my brain. Why do I feel so sad when adults tells me I'll grow into a woman? Why does it cause me so much stress when mom tells me to put on a dress? Why does it make me so euphoric to use masculine scents? When I try to picture myself kissing a boy, why do I see two boys? Ah, I just learned trans people exist, why does this fascinate me so much that I can't stop thinking about it? Am I creepy for being so fascinated by them? I'm older now, why is that sad feeling not going away? Why is it only getting worse now that I have "grown into a woman"? Why do I keep getting this horrified feeling that I took a wrong route somewhere and was never meant to arrive at "woman"? Wait... could this mean I am trans? Is it too late to realize I am trans at my age? Can I really be trans when the whole thought of even just considering surgery feels overwhelming and scary? Will I ever be ready to actually come out as trans? I really want to get married some day, could I even find love as a trans person? Can I ever be happy in a relationship if I hide who I am? Can I go on living in the closet? Okay, I am trans and want to come out, is it safe to do that? Will my family still love me? Will I ever be brave enough to come out to people outside of my immediate circle? Will people take me seriously? Will people hate me? Will I regret coming out? What if I fuck up my life?

Well, I came out and the world didn't end. All these questions, I either found answers to them or they just dissolved over time - and that frees up a lot of energy and mental space. The space that was occupied by these questions and concerns is now available to me again.

I do not wonder if I am a man anymore. I just am one. It has become something that is just self-evident to me. It goes without saying - or without conciously spending time thinking about it. Of course I am a man, of course I am Oliver. Who else would I be?

We all have a limited amount of things we can focus on, and many trans people share this experience that over time they do not need to focus so much on it anymnore. But this is not unique to the process of figuring out you are trans - in the sense that a cis gay, bi, ace etc. person could also relate to this, but also in entirely non-lgbt-specific ways. Think about a person prepping for an important exam for example. A lot of their energy and mental space will be tied up in exam related questions... which obviously will not be a permanent state. After the exam, they will naturally no longer by preoccupied by wondering how the exam will go!

I'm telling you all this because one of you asked me if I struggled with coming to terms with being a trans man - and this is my very long way of saying: Yes, I did (and it's pretty normal to do! It's a really big realization about yourself!) but struggling isn't a permanent state.

You'll find answers to some questions, some questions will just fade away. You'll figure things out.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[canisalbus]

Hello! I'm not a furry either so I'm not sure how I stumbled upon your art, but I'm glad I did because I love everything you do for Machete and Vasco and I admire your art and how much effort you put in fleshing them out. They're gorgeous, and your colouring style is very pretty, too! I'd like to ask some things about them, if you don't mind.

1) Are they specific dog breeds? (I remember you said you're inspired by Borzoi fur for Machete's neck fur!)

2) Are dogs your favourite animal to draw?

3) How did you decide on their names?

The question about the names is because, fun fact: Vasco is an extremely popular football team from Rio de Janeiro, and right now they're competing in Brazil's largest football championship to become the country's champion. So I've been imagining Vasco dragging Machete to a football match and being wildly into it while Machete looks lost in the rambunctious crowd lol but also because I'd like to know if you're applying a nationality to them at all. Their clothes have picked my curiosity!

Thanks for sharing your art with us!

Ah, thank you! I'm glad you like my art and little guys.

1. Both of their breeds are fictional.

Vasco is a scenthound type of dog, if you applied Segugio Italiano's colors to Ariégeois/Porcelaine bodytype you'd get very close to what he's supposed to look like.

Machete is a sighthound and his closest real life counterpart would be Ibizan hound. He's mostly just a little fluffier here and there.

2. Yes, dogs are my favorite thing to draw. Canines in general. Sighthounds in particular.

3. I created Machete almost 16 years ago, I think I was simply reading about weapons and thought the word sounded sharp and had a good rhythm to it. In-universe "Machete" isn't his real name at all, it's something of a mean-spirited epithet/nickname he's acquired from his colleagues (mostly for being efficient at powering through mountains of thankless work, his severe (and increasingly cut-throatish) personality and the fact that he's originally from the part of Italy that was ruled by Spain at the time). His actual name (the one Vasco uses) hasn't been revealed.

I had liked the name Vasco long before I assigned it to this character, to me it sounds friendly and energetic but also noble somehow (but that's just my impression, I don't know any Vascos personally). One of the deciding factors was his color palette, I wanted to aim for shades that would resemble gold. In Finnish, "vaski" is an archaic term for warm colored metals like brass, bronze and copper. It's far fetched in retrospective but when the connection popped in my head I had to go for it.

As for the nationalities, they're both Italian. Vasco is a proud Florentine and Machete is originally Sicilian and now lives in Rome.

I can see how Vasco would be into football, Machete less so.

[factual-fantasy]

28 asks! Thanks yall! :)) 🦶

My last doctors appointment came up with nothing. Onto the next one in a few weeks...

Oh good idea-- :00

Dink already has a friend! His name is Doink! :)

@stupid-thatsme

I usually watch YouTube or listen to music while I draw. I feel like it helps me draw faster and keeps me focused somehow.. XDD And no one wants to be alone with their thoughts lets be real-

@coolguyinternet

<XD I'll have to think about that one-

1: I knew what was coming for me in Tales from Ba Sing Se. But it still hurt. :(((

1: At first I don't think I liked Mei very much <XDD But after seeing her turn around at the end of the show?? I really like her :))

There's a lot of moments that were sweet and sad. But Zuko's apology to Iroh, and Toph and Sokka's talk about Katara's motherly nature were amongst the sweetest. And Aang going avatar mode when loosing Appa and being comforted by Katara has to be the saddest I can remember.. 🥺🥺🥺

The ending overall just felt like it came too soon, I wish the show was longer..

@mrplants-world

You're gonna have to be a liiiitle more specific- 😅

(Aang holding Appa art in question)

Do people really ask that?? Man.. smh.. smh.. 😔😔

That sounds like something they'd do! :DD

:DDD Thank you! I'm glad you like my artwork!! :))))

@the-woomyverse

XDDD Oh man that's some fantastic angst potential

(Evil Grim and V post in question)

An asker in this post described what I imagine they'd be like really well! :00

And yes! The evil versions are all shiny but evil Anastasia (Kricketot) is normal colors XD

I didn't intend to have Miraidon around, no.. 😅

And I don't have the DLC, so I am unfamiliar with Ogerpon.. <:0

@necromicon42

The boo mushroom isn't intended to be in my AU.. but the boomerang and cloud flower could be included :00 I imagine they'd be/look a lot different though..

The boomerang flower might not be a full on powerup.. I might make it this big flower that once it grows its oddly shaped petals fall off and harden like wood. Leaving behind these perfect flat boomerangs. I can imagine Mario and Luigi just learning how to throw the boomerangs instead of absorbing a powerup. This would also explain how boomerang bros got their boomerangs. They throw the same dried up petals that the bros throw-

The cloud flower might just be changed into some king of... wispy thing and the bros can collect. Instead of a flower. Maybe a literal cloud? I'm not sure.. but I can see it existing :00

@spinelfan11

I believe so! XD Thank you! :)

(Refencing this post and this post)

<XD No one is safe from the bootleg curse!

<XD No no, my AU was made before the movie came out. Nothing from the movie applies to my AU- including the Vanessa daughter thing <XDD

Well lets see,

1: I think Gravity Falls and Pixars cars was very inspirational to me! :0

2: My favorite song changes from day to day,, but currently I really like Lights by Ellie Goulding! :))

3: When I understood it, I think I liked math! :))

4: And sorry! But drawing suggestions are now closed 😅

@anikakitty11

Shroomie!! :DDD

@untitled-7613

I wouldn't trust them personally- 😅😅

@khoiazo

XDD The only appropriate response to evil Grim and V honestly-

@xxanxious-anxietyxx

:000 WAIT REALLY??? THANKO YOU!! :DDD

@hope0koi

They doin good! I've been meaning to draw them more often <XDD

@minophlia

Ah man.. this is very bitter sweet. I'm glad you found me here and that you like what I make. But its also horrible to hear that you found me through stolen artwork that I worked so hard on..

@katpotato55 (In response to this post)

:DD THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :)))

@im-nice-but-i-dont-like-you

XDD Well hey it made me laugh too! Also thank you! :))

@ink-machine-kidd

I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to do for that..😅I'm not familiar with Digimon.. 🥺 Thank you for the suggestion though! :00

@agent-cakeshroom

XDD Thank you!! And yes! I DO love sky! :DD Been playing ever since season of dreams back in 2021 💪💪💪

[abigailywrites]

dress. [din djarin x reader]

part three of indebted.

ao3 / ko-fi rating: t word count: 4.1k warnings: none

There’s a hole in your jacket near the elbow where one of the patches is coming loose. It’s the first day of your break, and there’s no way you’re spending your hard-earned nothing-salary on scrap fabric. So, the fabric for the patch comes from the leg of your pants. That’s fine. It’s not the first time you’ve done it. Pants that used to come down to your ankles now hit about mid-calf, that’s all.

As you’re getting ready to sew the patch on, Karga bursts into your room without knocking. “I got something for you,” he tells you.

Slowly, you look up from your work and blink. “I thought this was my day off.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Karga questions. “I said I have something for you. It’s a gift.”

No employer has ever given you a gift before. Even if they did, you have very specific rules for what you’re meant to do with gifts: sell them immediately and put the money toward your debt. Nevertheless, you stand to follow him to the living room.

Draped across the sofa is a dress. A burgundy, knee-length thing with a deep neck, no sleeves, and a subtle golden pattern on the hem. The fabric is light but sturdy— perfect for the Nevarro climate. And there’s no doubt that it’s nicer than anything you’ve ever worn in your life. 

You look down at the patchwork jacket in your hand. Most of the patches are faded, blue variants or some kind of brown. But you can’t tell what the original color was anymore, and strings are hanging off of it where the hem has frayed and been stitched back and frayed again. It’s dusty, too. You haven’t had the chance to wash it all week. It’s not much, but it’s completely yours. It’s the only thing that’s completely yours.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Karga asks, picking the dress up off the sofa and holding it up to you.

“Sure,” you agree with a shrug.  

Karga gives you an exasperated look. “Sure?” he echoes. “It is. You should wear it next time you go to the cantina.”

“Oh,” you say. “So, it’s not a gift. It’s a work uniform.”

“Would you just put it on?”

Rolling your eyes, you snatch up the dress and drag it back to your room. It feels funny on your skin when you put it on, but it does technically fit.

Karga seems to think so anyway. He smiles when you walk out in it and says, “Ah, there we are! Give it a spin, let me see.”

You turn in a lazy, disinterested circle. “This is ridiculous,” you huff as you face him again.

“It’s only ridiculous if it doesn’t work.”

You look down at the dress and back to Karga. “What exactly is it supposed to do?”

Karga folds his arms over his chest and sighs. “Listen, I don’t know how you did it,” he sighs. “But somehow, you got Mando to change his mind. There’s something about you he must like. And if we can play that to our advantage…”

“To your advantage, you mean,” you correct him.

He uncrosses his arms and puts his hands firmly on his hips. “No, to our advantage,” he insists. “There’s a bounty I need him to take. Hardly any of my hunters have dared to go after it, and the few that have… Well, there have been unfortunate endings. I need Mando to take it, but the problem is this isn’t the kind of thing he usually goes for. Direct commission work. If you can convince him to take it, I’ll take another five percent off.”

Those few words flip a switch in your brain, and you hate it. Suddenly, something you’re terrified to even try becomes something you’re desperate to accomplish. The dress still seems excessive, but if it helps, then why not? And you still have no idea what you could have possibly said to Mando to get him to take four pucks, but you could figure it out. Over all of these thoughts echoes the constant chorus, “another year of my life, another year of my life, two whole years of my life.”

“Okay,” you agree after only a moment’s hesitation and next to no thought. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”  

In the next couple of hours, Karga hatches the beginnings of a strategy. He debates himself on the best way for you to get the job done. You interrupt him only a few times with some pertinent questions. 

 “Isn’t it going to be difficult to gauge his reaction?” you ask at one point. “Should I ask him to take his helmet off?”

This earns you a stern look from Karga. “That’s a joke, right? Tell me that’s a joke.”

It very much is not. Still, you scoff. “Oh, come on,” you say. “Of course, it’s a joke.” That’s the end of your questions for a while. 

Eventually, Karga decides that you have as much of a plan as you need for the moment. “Besides,” he says. “Mando won’t be coming back for months. We don’t have to worry about this until then.”

You don’t know anything different, so you don’t argue, figuring that anything you need to know can be learned later. But it’s time you don’t have. It’s only a month later when Karga hurries over to your usual seat at the booth. “I got a page from the shipyard master,” he tells you. “Mando’s Razor Crest is landing.”

“What?” you question.

“I know, I didn’t expect this either,” Karga says. “Just get out there, and stick to the plan.” 

“But we never finished the plan,” you remind him in a half-whisper, half-shout. “You said we wouldn’t have to worry about it for months. It’s only been one month.”

Karga isn’t hearing it. In fact, he’s practically pushing you out of the booth. “Just do whatever you did last time.”

“I don’t know what I did last time!”

“Would you just go?”

At this, you stand and smooth out the skirt of your dress. You’re still not entirely used to it. It’s been difficult to see it as anything other than a uniform. A tool. Not yours. Now is the time to put it to the test. How effective is an errand girl in a dress against a hardened warrior? It feels more absurd than ever. “Alright, fine,” you mutter as you walk away.

You make it to the shipyard as fast as you can, and the shipyard master hands you a holopad and directs you to Mando’s Razor Crest. The ramp is still up when you get there, but you’re gripping the holopad like it’s the only floating thing on a planet of ocean. But when the ramp begins to lower and you see him standing right there? That’s when you have to remind yourself not to break the thing.

When Mando sees you, he stops halfway down the ramp. The moment of silence that passes is nearly unbearable until he says, “What is this?”

You look down at yourself and back up to him, eyebrows furrowed. “Um… a dress?”

“No,” he says, continuing down the ramp until he’s standing over you. “You. What are you doing here?”

You hold the holopad closer to yourself. “Karga sent me to take inventory,” you tell him.

“He sent you to the shipyard… in a dress.”

You shrug. “It’s just an outfit.”

“It’s impractical. You look uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t my idea,” you tell him, growing frustrated. “Karga thought you might—”

“Might what?”

The way he’s staring at you, you get the impression that he already knows but wants to hear you say it anyway.  “Might…” you huff, your face going warm. “Might appreciate… it.”

“Appreciate you in it? Is that what you mean?”

You fold your arms over your chest, holding the holopad tight against you as a barrier. Maker, you wish you had your jacket. Wish you had some fabric on your arms. “Yes, I guess, that was the plan,” you answer.  “Like I said, it wasn’t my idea.”

“What does Karga want?” he questions. 

You shake your head and shrug. You could lie, but if there’s one thing you remember from the last time you negotiated with Mando, it’s that he doesn’t mind brazen honesty. “It’s some kind of direct commission bounty he wants you to pick up,” you explain. “He said it was high-dollar but not your usual gig.”

“And Karga wants you to convince me to do it?”

You tilt your head to the side, but you don’t look him in the eye… visor… whatever. “Offered me another five percent if I could. Anyway, I managed it last time, didn’t I?” 

That silences him for a moment. “Let me be clear,” he begins, finally. “I saw four good jobs, and I took them. I don’t do anything because someone begs me to.”

The way your spine goes stiff and your throat tightens is almost immediate. First, he calls you a slave, now this. On your planet, no one would have dreamed of calling— of implying—  “I’m not a beggar,” you tell him, your voice low, and your gaze snapping onto him. “Don’t call me a beggar.”

“Then what are you?”

“I already told you. I’m a servant. An indentured servant. That’s all. Not a beggar, not a slave.”

“If you’re not a slave, why not leave?” he questions. “It’s your grandfather’s debt, not yours.” 

“Because,” you tell him. “My grandfather and my father died paying it off, and I’d rather die than disrespect that. This is the custom where I’m from. It’s shameful to be indebted like this, but it’s worse not to bear it gracefully. So, you give everything you have to the one who holds your debt, and you work for them for as long as you have to. The last thing you give is the clothes on your back, and you do not try to run from it.”

It isn’t the first time you’ve had to explain this to someone, but it’s never any less tiring. A brutal reminder of all the life that has been lost in the wake of a debt you’ve carried with you as long as you can remember only ever serves to exhaust you. But it does nothing for your present self. So, you sigh and straighten your shoulders. “I’m not here to explain all this to you,” you eventually decide. “Karga’s waiting, and I’m just here to take inventory.”

That seems to be enough for Mando. He stalks away without a word.

You’re sure you just fucked up that entire encounter. It’s definitely not what Karga had in mind, anyway. But what else were you supposed to do? Just stand there and take insults from a— a walking, talking suit of armor? 

You can almost hear your father’s voice reminding you that not upsetting your employer also means not upsetting your employer’s friends. Then it’s your grandfather’s voice reminding you that there’s nothing that upsets people more than hearing about other people’s difficulties. And then, of course, it’s your own voice. “Stupid,” you whisper to yourself through gritted teeth. “Fucking stupid.”

That’s about when the actual shipyard crew to take inventory comes to take over, and that reminds you that all you were supposed to do was stand there in a dress and look pretty. And you failed at that so spectacularly you almost want to laugh. The dress was never going to work, anyway. It’s time you finished patching up your jacket.

✦✦✦

He knows exactly what Karga’s trying to do by setting you up just outside his ship. You’re supposed to be the first thing he sees. There’s no way he’s going to believe that the same girl who didn’t know how to open his profile last month is suddenly in charge of taking inventory. You’re a strategic pawn. Meant to either soften him up or break him down. What he doesn’t like to admit even to himself is that neither option is impossible. 

You’ve been on his mind lately. Most of his thoughts consist of what the hell is Karga thinking by keeping an indentured servant? But the fact that you keep showing up in his thoughts at all… The fact that your name has been stuck on repeat in his head ever since Karga said it… 

No, he knows what the hell Karga is thinking. Now that he’s seen you again, he knows exactly what’s going on. Karga isn’t stupid. Karga knows he took twice as many pucks as usual and why. And Karga’s counting on it working a second time.

He’s hyper-aware of the fact as he enters the cantina and approaches Karga’s table. The bastard is leaning back like he’s not on the edge of his seat waiting to see if his scheme paid off.

“Ah, that was fast,” Karga remarks. “Did you catch them all?”

He responds by tossing all four fobs on the table.

Karga looks over the fobs and nods. “Good, I’ll begin the offload.” 

Karga barks instructions in Huttese to someone nearby while he unclasps his rifle, sets it down on the table in front of him, and sits. Karga spends too long rifling around in his satchel until he produces payment and sets it down in front of him.

“These are Imperial credits,” he says.

“They still spend,” Karga points out.

“I don’t know if you heard, but the Empire is gone.” 

Karga leans back in his seat. “It’s all I’ve got.”

That’s all he needs to hear. He grabs up the fobs and begins to stand. 

Karga reaches for the fobs. “Save the theatrics!” he says. “Fine. I’ll… I can do Calamari Flan. But I can only pay half.”

Another of Karga’s games. Paying him what he would’ve gotten for just his two usual fobs anyway, but he's not in the mood to fight it. “Fine,” he agrees, taking the Flan. “I want my next job.” 

“Of course,” Karga agrees, reaching for the unclaimed pucks. “Hmm… I have a bail jumper. A bail jumper, another bail jumper, a wanted smuggler.”

That’s four. That’s what he’s got to start taking from now on if he wants to keep the heat of speculation off. “I’ll take them all.”

“No, hold on. There are other members of the guild, and this is all I have.”

“Why so slow?”

“It’s not slow at all, actually. Very busy. They just don’t want to pay Guild rates. They don’t mind if things get sloppy.”

He can sense where Karga is trying to lead the conversation, but he can’t avoid it. So, he grits his teeth and asks, “What’s your highest bounty?”

“Not much. Five thousand.”

“That won’t even cover fuel these days.”

To his credit, Karga doesn’t immediately jump on that. He takes a second. Hums. Raises his brows in thought. “There is one job.”

There it is. No way Karga was going to trust the entire thing to you. He’s had this orchestrated for a while now, probably even beyond what you know. “Let’s see the puck,” he decides.

“No puck. Face to face. Direct commission. Deep pocket.”

“Underworld?”

“All I know is no chain code. Do you want the chit or not?” Karga holds it up.

It’s a second before he makes up his mind and takes the chit. Holds it for a second before standing to leave. It’s a year of someone’s life, after all. Anyway, it is the highest-paying bounty.

✦✦✦

There’s enough time for you to run back to the house and grab your jacket before returning right back to the shipyard. The final piece of Karga’s grand, pointless puzzle is in place. You were the first thing Mando saw when he arrived. Now, you’re supposed to be the last thing he sees before he leaves. Karga’s purpose in this meticulous staging is still a mystery, but never let it be said you don’t follow orders. You simply refuse to twiddle your thumbs while you wait for Mando to get back.

So, you find a crate to sit on and get busy finishing up the patch that you didn’t have the chance to almost a full month ago. It feels good to have your jacket in your hands again. Patching the bulky, heavy, rough thing is doing a spectacular job of keeping your mind off of the fact that Mando is going to be back soon. Probably no more convinced than he was a couple of hours ago. Probably still pissed. 

Keep it out of your mind. Keep working on the jacket. Why stop at a patch? You could fix the hem that’s coming loose, too. 

You feel it when he enters the shipyard, and you can’t explain that at all. All you know is that the hair stands up on the back of your neck suddenly. A shiver passes through you, and when you look up, he’s walking towards you. 

There’s a new beskar pauldron on his shoulder that wouldn’t look as impressive on anyone else. It adds something that you can’t describe in words but makes you keep staring as he approaches instead of shrinking away from even looking at him.

“So, did you take the puck?” you hear the sound of your voice asking before you have time to make yourself nervous about it. 

He doesn’t answer which tells you that he doesn’t want you to know. Which you’re pretty sure means he definitely took it. 

“Well,” you sigh, going back to your hemming. “Good luck.”

He’s still standing there, and some part of you is bracing for a lecture. A warning. Some kind of confrontation dealing with the attitude you took with him a few hours ago. But his next words are so unexpected that it stops your hands from working. “I realize I offended you,” he says instead. “I apologize. That wasn’t my intention.”

That’s… surprising. There’s no face when you look up at him, of course. Just the helmet, tilted down to look back at you. But if you squint, you think you can almost make out an expression. Something genuine in the way he’s holding himself.

You blink through the shock and give him a half-hearted, close-lipped smile in return. “Hey,” you say. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I was begging. You were right.”

“No,” he says. “You were doing your job, and I was ignorant and disrespectful. It won’t happen again.”

Nothing about this encounter is what you expected. No one has ever apologized to you like this before. No one has ever felt the need. You’re just a servant, after all. Unsure how else to respond, you shake your head. “Um… it’s alright,” you tell him. “Indentured servitude where I come from… it’s like the antithesis of religion. Instead of dedicating your life to getting closer to something immaterial, you dedicate it to getting away from something material. But I know that’s not normal, and you couldn’t have known anything about it. It was an overreaction, and I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t respond. Good. You’re not sure how you would handle a response. You’re still reeling from the fact that this is coming from the silent, stoic Mandalorian. The silence seems to be the natural thing, and it suits you fine.

“What are you doing?” 

You look down at your work and back up to him. “Fixing the hem of my jacket. It’s time I got rid of this dress. Karga kinda threw it on me.”

“He does that.”

You shrug. “Evidently.”

By all means, that should be the end of the conversation. It’s here you would absolutely expect Mando to walk away, fly off, and not speak to you again. But he doesn’t. Instead, he looks over his shoulder and back at you. Takes a step closer. “What if he couldn’t anymore?” he says.

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“You could tell me what Karga’s planning before I’m even on-planet.”

You stare at him a moment, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Why would I do that?” you eventually sputter.

“It would save you the work of convincing me to take a job.”

Good point. It takes a second of utter confusion to think of a counter. “It could also screw up my so far amazing track record that’s taken two years off my debt so far.”

“I’d compensate you.”

“Like an inside job?”

“Like an inside job.”

You drop the needle on your lap, plant your hands firmly on the edge of the crate, and lean back. “I don’t know,” you grumble. “It’s a good idea, but how would I even do it? Karga monitors my personal frequency. He’d catch on before long.”

He pauses for just a moment. Then he reaches for his utility belt, pulls out a comlink, and tosses it in your lap. “Karga can’t monitor that,” he tells you.

Slowly, you reach for the comlink and turn it over in your hand. “Holy kriff, you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The way he says it makes you believe he thinks you’re wasting his time with pointless questions. But in all fairness, it seems unlikely.

And yet, you can’t think of any reason to refuse. “I…” you start, trying to make something up. Karga would be pissed but after the humiliating dress debacle? That’s more of a perk, and nothing else comes to mind. “Could you do an advance?”

Mando nods and retrieves a piece of Flan. A whole piece of Flan. Two months of pay for you. Slowly, you reach for it and squish the coin between your fingers. 

“Get back to Karga,” Mando instructs you as you examine the gelatinous currency. “Contact me as soon as you know what he’s planning.”

When you look up to face him again, he’s already walking away. You have no idea what almost compels you to call after him. Gratitude, you guess. But gratitude doesn’t usually feel like your insides are being wrung out. No, that’s what fear feels like, but you’re not afraid either.

Hesitantly, you stand and start walking back to the house. Back to your room, with your jacket slung over your shoulder, the comlink you hid in the pocket making it heavy. By the time you get there, it’s dusk. From your window, you can see the shape of Mando’s Razor Crest taking off. That wringing, twisting feeling is still there. It’s taking over your whole body, making you numb in your limbs.

It doesn’t help when Karga bursts into your room without knocking… again. 

“Oh, he’s taking off, huh?” Karga asks, walking to stand next to you in front of the window.

You shrug your shoulders and wrap your arms around yourself. “He took the puck, right?” you ask him, after a while.

“He took the job,” Karga confirms. “I could give you the five percent for it, but I’m not sure if it was you that convinced him or me.”

You don’t bother arguing or even reacting. All you do is face him and pull out the piece of Flan. “I got this from Mando. I’d like it to go towards my debt, please.”

He takes the piece and examines it. “How did you get this?” he eventually questions.

“I agreed to things,” you answer, purposefully vague. You’re almost positive Karga is going to take it the entirely wrong way. Good. He doesn’t need the context.

Karga exhales slowly as he pockets the Flan. “Well, congratulations,” he says like it’s physically painful to do so. “Five percent it is.”

You exhale with the weight of another year’s worth of debt coming off of your shoulders, but you find that you’re not as light as you were the first time it happened. Once again, you fix your eyes on the Razor Crest fading from view. Once the ship is out of sight, you turn back to Karga. “What happened to the hunters who went after this thing?”

“You mean the few that actually dared?” he asks. Then he shrugs. “All killed. But I wouldn’t worry about it. If anyone’s got a shot at this thing, it’s Mando.”

“But he could die,” you point out. “I helped you convince him to go on a hunt where he could very well die.”

“What are you so worked up over? It’s not like you’re the one pulling the trigger. You did good,” Karga says as he pats your shoulder and walks past you.

You should be happy, you know that. In the brief amount of time you’ve been on Nevarro, you’ve accomplished the impossible twice. Ten percent of your debt is gone within the span of a couple of months. But that suffocating feeling you used to get when the Mandalorian was around is coming to you as he’s leaving, and the fear that it might never change is keeping you underwater.

You sigh and turn to walk back to the house. One month down. Eighteen years to go.

[goodday-goodmorn]

Alright! Starting this shitshow of a blog off strong with a platonic yandere Bruce Wayne fic!

Heavily inspired by- @blughxreader and their batman stuff! Go check ‘em out- (specifically the one with poor reader and the rooftop escape, those are my fav’s <3)

———————————————-

Also inspired by this qoute:

'They can't do that,' she said finally. 'It's the one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -- anything -- but they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you.' (Gorge Orwells, 1984)

“You know, i’m pretty sure that you helping me right now would be going against natural selection.”

Bruce sent you a look, something dark in his eyes. You knew it was coming however and shamelessly avoided looking at him for that exact reason. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have said that, he never was one for jabs or jokes that hinted in any way about you dying.

“You’re kind of a mother hen ya know that? I mean, i knew before but this is really solidifying it ya know?”

It was a deflection and you both knew it, usally Bruce wouldn’t let you get away with those. But once again, these were not the usual circumstances. Truth be told he was probably just glad you were talking again, that you had some life back in your eyes, albeit only a small amount.

“Your soup is getting cold.”

Ah damn it. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice. A stupid hope, consdiering he notices fucking everything.

“So it is.”

…

A sigh, “Kid, you need to eat.” You knew what it meant. It was a silent question, ‘are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?’, because either way, you would be eating.

You swallowed, truth be told, you didn’t have the motivation to eat. Nor the appetite, but the alternative was him talking you through every bite and you really didn’t want that right now.

So with a sigh of your own you picked up the spoon, at least you didn’t have to cook anything, all you had to do was eat what was in front of you. You could do that. Barely any effort. It was simple.

So simple.

The spoon stays in the bowl, your hand resting on it as you stare at the soup.

It’s delicious, you know it is, Alfred's food always is, and he’d made one of your favorites too. Something nice and hearty so you would be full for a while and wouldn’t have to go through the effort of eating again too soon.

Bruce was watching you when you looked up, ever watchful, ever observant, waiting to see if he had to intervene.

You swallowed, you never liked it when he stared too hard. His gaze was always so intense. With heavy limbs, you scoop a spoonful of soup and start eating.

Bruce’s gaze softens and he lets out a soft, “Thank you.” He ruffles your hair and you don’t have the will to stop yourself from leaning into it right now.

Give and take, give and take…

You eat in silence, you’re propped up on some pillows on the bed, Bruce is sitting next to the bed on a chair.

Maybe it had been a stupid idea to ask for him, a very stupid idea but at the time you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t deal with the boy’s clinging, not like this. Not when you woke up feeling like anything but a person.

See, a few hours ago, you woke up and felt fatigued, and apathetic. Two oncoming signs of a depressive episode.

It only got worse as the day went on, you tried to be alright- you really did but, you just couldn’t do it. This whole act of playing house with the Wayne’s was already tiring enough, but for your own sanity you had to keep it up.

After all, if you fought hard against all their afflictions they would only dig their heels in and make your situation a lot worse so- you always figured from the beginning it was better to give in early.

At least, on the surface anyway. Not resist their affections, hell you hadn't even once pulled any sort of escape attempt, or tried anything. You’d barely even argued either.

Your lack of resistance was met with open arms and eagerness. Of course- they knew you were only pretending, that you didn’t view them as family, but they knew it was only a matter of time until you came around.

After all, if you act for something long enough, your brain will eventually start to believe it.

Alas, you were a stubborn little shit, and giving in voluntarily had only seemed to help you keep up this mentality longer.

Until this morning anyway.

When you woke up, feeling like shit and simply couldn’t deal with playing house with your ‘brothers’. So, in your moment of weakness, when you didn’t want to do anything or let them drag you around or cuddle or watch movies, you had done something rather unexpected.

Which of course, was to simply shut down.

They were worried as shit, but when they finally did manage to get you to talk, your shaky whisper of, “I want dad.” -Had been shocking, worrying and exciting all at once.

(It had also been a touch too real, your voice had sounded so small, so far away, and in that moment you really did just want the comforting presence of Bruce.)

So now you were here, so deep into the throws of not being a person you barely felt like moving; sitting in your bed with none other than Bruce Wayne by your bedside, stroking your hair lovingly.

You were done with the soup now, as much as you could eat anyway, before Bruce could even say anything you reasoned with him, “I’ll eat more later. Promise.”

Promises held a lot of weight here. Something practically unbreakable, Especially with Bruce. Especially with you, maybe that’s just because you liked when they had weight. It was nice; To have a concrete thing to swear on that you knew would not be broken.

Bruce probably used them to build trust in his words or something, you didn’t know, and quite frankly you didn’t care right now because well- you got to use them too so…

He thinks for a moment, and then nods, agreeing easily, “Okay.” And with that he takes the bowl from you. He’s… he’s rather agreeable right now, usually he would confirm or try and fight you more on that.

Maybe he was being more lenient because you willingly came to him? Or because you were being open right now, or maybe because he felt bad for what you were going through or-

Gods you don’t have enough energy to ponder this.

You nod and lay back down, he guides you down most of the way. Now you’re back like before, lying in bed, cheek smushed against your pillow, starting at him blankly.

You break the silence as he pulls the blanket over you.

“What type of bird do you think everyone would be?”

He looks back to you, a small upturn of his lips and eyes crinkled slightly in an amused manner. “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, “Bored.”

A partial truth. In reality you were thinking about all that poetic shit about you being like a bird in a fancy golden cage. A very very well cared for bird with access to some deep fucking pockets but you know, still in a cage. Even if the cage is real fancy and has amazing food, even better wifi, and a home movie theater.

(You think Bruce would let you install an indoor pool? Or a jacuzzi. …He probably would. You should ask sometime, ah- you’re getting off track here.)

So anyway- fancy bird poems and then you started thinking about what type of bird you would be and then it kinda spiraled from there.

“Hm. Well, that depends, who do you wanna start with?”

“Mmm… Alfred, cause i think he’s the easiest.”

A little amused quirk of his brow, “What bird is he then?”

“Penguin. Cause he’s always dressed all fancy, and penguins got that sleek fancy vibe about them. They are kinda short for Alfred though…”

Bruce nods, as if taking your words into consideration, “Emperor penguin then. They’re the biggest penguin species.”

Contuiting on just to have something to blabber about you confidently say, “Jason is an emu.”

——————

After a very engaging deep dive into what types of birds everyone was-

(Tim was a woodpecker on account of all the times you’ve seen him slam his head into his desk while working; Dick was an ostrich because if Jason was an Emu then those two had to match; Cassandra got the honor of being a crow; Damien was a kinglet, a ruby crowned kinglet, purely because they are small and for some reason you only recall pictures of seeing those bird look annoyed, Bruce was a harpy eagle because they look big and grumpy, And finally you were a pigeon.)

-You were now half asleep as Bruce read to you like you were a little kid.

It was… nice. Like all the other times you were forced to hang out with the Wayne family. (Only this time you hadn’t been forced, you had called for him.) Nice but with that ever present little weight in the back of your mind, reminding you of just how much these people had taken from you.

Right now though, that little weight was… it was a lot easier to ignore.

You let Bruce’s calming voice wash over you, you were barely listening at this point but he paid no kind to your lack of attention.

This was nice.

No one had ever taken care of you when you went into one of your episodes before. Usually you had to suck it up and work yourself up to go get some food and water before laying in bed until the feeling went away.

It was a terrible feeling, a staggering sensation just on the edge of emptiness. But not there enough for you to not feel anything, it was almost as if everything was muted. All sensations dull, your thoughts weren't but you were apathetic to them.

In short, it sucked. Majorly.

But now, here you were, tucked into bed, fed a warm hearty meal, and being read to with such tenderness and care.

You didn’t even notice that your eyes started to water. But Bruce did. He noticed everything.

Gently, so gently, he wiped away the tear about to fall from your eye. His own were soft as they stared at you. Soft and filled with a look you couldn’t decipher, a look you didn’t want to decipher because the closest thing you could even begin to compare it to was- …was love.

Love.

Fuck- love.

You knew there was something wrong with this family, of course you did- they kidnapped you for pete’s sake, but- but they also had been unconditionally kind to you didn’t they?

You… You couldn’t-

“-do this anymore.”

Your voice was soft, just barely above a whisper. A quiet confession.

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Bruce sighed, his voice level, but quiet, fitting of the atmosphere. “You don’t have to, it’ll be so much easier if you just give in kiddo.”

He cupped your face in his hand. His own skin was scarred, rough, callous, and yet he held you with such care. It was almost reverent. He gazed at you with an almost sad look, as if your passive struggle hurt you more than him.

(It probably did. He didn’t have anything to worry about after all, you would break eventually. You could only keep telling yourself this was pretend for so long.)

“…”

Stubborn. Always so stubborn in the most muted way; silence. You weren't one to make large outbursts, or outwardly resist, but even so, passive stubbornness. It was something Bruce was fond of; how resilient you were.

You look away from his gaze, not meeting his eyes. His eyes, always so intense, always so much behind those icy blue scaleras.

“Is it-“ You start, the chemical imbalance in your brain making you honest right now.

You realize suddenly that this is the first real conversation you’ve had in months. There was no keeping up the act here. No holding your tongue or dancing with your words, no overthinking about what response would make you the perfect sibling, the perfect child. No catering, no push and pull of deciding how much of you you want to put into your words.

This was honest. The most honest you’ve been since you were kidnapped.

Bruce tilts his head slightly, patiently waiting for you to continue. He could sense a breakthrough, and he always did know when it was better to hold his tongue.

“…Is it worth it?” You say, eyes filled with so much emotion simmering just under the surface.

Bruce has a good idea as to what you’re asking. He knows you. Knows the way you think, the way you come to conclusions, your speech patterns, he knows you well.

(And yet it’s not nearly as much as he wants to. He wants to know more, to know everything, he wants for you to share such details about yourself willingly. He wants you to come to him after a rough day and listen to you rant. He wants to hear you laugh as you discover a new interest. He wants-)

“Yes.”

He strokes your hair gently, voice impossibly soft.

“It’s worth it.”

He answers your asked, unasked questions without a moment's hesitation.

‘Is it worth it to do all this? To keep me here against my will? To have me locked away like some canary in a gilded cage?’

“If it means you are safe and happy.”

“Is this really happiness?”

“It can be if you let it.”

“…”

“Don’t you like it here? You have a loving family, a nice house, you never have to worry about food or safety ever again.”

“…”

He cups your face with both his hands now, making you meet his gaze. Always intense. Too intense. You can’t handle the weight of his love for you.

Flicking your eyes to the wall you mumble, “There’s a saying. If you love something, let it go.” It’s weak, half hearted, you aren’t even sure you really mean it. (You aren’t even sure if you want to be let go anymore… you can’t imagine returning to a life before all this.)

(And Bruce knows this.)

You look back at him, meeting his eyes because you- you just- you know it’s stupid to ask but you can’t stop yourself-

“Why?”

You don’t need to explain any further. Bruce always seems to know what you’re asking.

‘Why me? Why do any of this? Why go through all the trouble just to keep some random kid?’

“Because I love you.”

He says it so easily. So simply, so calmly, as if it is undeniable fact, so once more you ask with more feeling this time,

“Why?”

You can’t stop yourself from leaning into his hold as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It’s childish, it’s stupid, it’s dumb, it’s humiliating-

He wipes away new forming tears, still cupping your face, “Because you’re precious.”

You choke out, “You don’t even know me.”

“So then, let me know you.”

Weakly, you shake your head, his hands fall from your face as you choke out, “I- I don’t- i can’t.”

“Hey, look at me sweetheart.”

You do, looking up at him and seeing only the love of a father. You don’t know how to handle such a sight. It’s foreign and it burns and yet, you are drawn in like a moth to a flame.

“We already love you kid. Nothing could change that.”

“You love the idea of me.” You counter, shuffling to prop yourself up a bit because laying down for this just seems too- too vulnerable.

He sighs, “If you think that then we seriously should have had this talk sooner.” He mentally tsk’s, he knows he’s been putting it off for so long because well- you’ve been good. And the family was happy and you were adjusting better than anyone expected you to.

It seems his negligence has resulting in this problem growing however.

He says your name, folds his hands and looks at you calmly, “-If the family wanted another child, then we would have gone to an orphanage.”

You swallow, he continues, “But, we didn’t want just any old person. We wanted you.”

You try to deny his words, no one’s ever wanted that before, and yet you can’t. Because it’s the only thing that even begins to make sense in your head. The only logical reason any of this would have happened.

You can’t deny it.

They love you.

They’re insane, they kidnapped you and yet- yet they- it doesn’t-

“-make sense.” You whisper, even though it’s the only thing that makes any semblance of sense.

“I know, you’re confused and not used to this and scared, but you’re the only thing holding yourself back. If you just let yourself believe we’re a family, you’ll feel so much better. This mindset is only hurting you sweetheart, you need to let it go.”

You look at him, eyes wet and so vulnerable as you whisper in a small voice, “I don’t know how to.”

And he pulls you close now, into a hug, it’s a bit of an awkward angle because he’s on a chair next to the bed and you’re on the bed, but you barely even notice with the way he’s pressing you to his chest. He’s warm as he wraps his arms around you and gently strokes your hair, consisting, comforting.

“We’ll be there every step of the way, start small.”

You shudder. The weight in the back of your mind is back in full force. He's asking you to give up your last bit of resistance. Your last act defiance. He’s asking you to give yourself up voluntarily. To fully endorse the idea that they are your family.

The worst part is, you don’t find yourself all that horrified with the idea.

If anything, you’re more scared that you’ll mess up somehow and piss them off with the real you and end up locked in a basement or something.

You don’t- you don’t know how to have a family. How to have siblings, a father- you don’t know how to interact or what to say and what to do- what if you fuck it up? what if you aren’t acting enough like a family and-

“-breathe with me kid. Com’on, in for 5.” He’s stroking your hair still, talking with you as he counts. You find yourself unconsciously following the deep rumble of his words.

“That’s it… hold for 4. One, two-“ It’s actually really nice to listen to him. Pressed so close like this you can hear the purr and rumble of his words in his chest. You can feel his chest expand with his own steadying breaths.

“Exhale for 6. One, two, three-“ You repeat his number sequence until you find your breathing is back to normal. Not that you had noticed how frantic it got to begin with.

Bruce hums, you feel the vibrations. You can hear his heartbeat like this. It’s nice, being held in his arms. “Good job kid, better?” His voice is a smooth rumble.

You nod weakly against him.

The two of you stay like that for a bit, him holding you as you listen to each other's heartbeats. You ground yourself with his and find your eyes drooping once more with sleep.

You make a noise; a hum of sorts and he sends you his own in return, soft, questioning.

“I-“ You clamp your mouth shut, thinking about what you’re about to say, thinking about if this is what you really want.

In the end you settle on this being the best choice, “I’ll try.” You swallow, mouth suddenly feeling dry, Bruce doesn’t give you any time to regret it though. He presses his face to your hair, affectionate.

“I’ll make the transition as comfortable as possible.” He promises against your hair, not being able to hide the smile in his voice.

You swallow again, starting up with slight nerves clear in your voice, “B-but i told you i’m not exactly very likable s-so don't regret it when i start speaking my mind and-“

That gets a laugh out of him, an amused kid huff, “You can’t possibly be any worse than Jason or Damein.”

You give a weak smile, “I dunno old man, think I could give ‘em a run for their money in bluntless.”

Bruce is smiling, you see it when he pulls away and looks down at you with such adoration. “We’ll have to see then.”

He’s happy, more than happy at finally hearing you be you. As much as he wants to keep you in his arms and listen to you for the rest of eternity however, that was a rather exhausting conversation. You look more than ready for some rest.

Gently, (always so gentle with you, as if you were somthing to be treasured), he laid you back down on the bed.

You let yourself be tucked in. You let him press a kiss to the top of your head. You let him turn off the lights.

“Um hey B- D-Dad?”

Bruce notices the slip up, but he lets it go. You’ve just made a lot of progress, and you’re clearly trying.

“Yes?”

“Do you uh- can i call you something else? Dad just feels really weird and kinda artificial at times so I was thinking maybe something more natural like maybe Pops? Or something like that i don’t know i just-“

“Of course you can.” He cuts off your nervous ramble easily, “You can call me whatever feels most natural, kid.”

You suck in a breath, soothed by his clam tone.

“O-okay. Cool… cool cool cool. Uh well then, could you maybe- maybe er- read to me? If that’s- if that’s alright..?”

Bruce was so proud of you. So much progress was made not too long ago and you were already trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone. You were trying so hard, bless you, you precious darling child.

He turned on the bedside lamp and took his seat on the chair once more, picking up the abandoned book.

Truth be told, Bruce was a busy man and he should be leaving because he has patrol in an hour, but he’ll be damned if he can’t carve out time for you. Especially when you asked to see him today.

(Especially when you were finally willing to view him as a father.)

“Would you like me to continue this one or do you want a different book?”

You jerkily nod, “That one’s fine.”

So, he begins to read once more, his voice a calming drawl that washes over you. Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and soon you are yawning and drifting off.

Once Bruce is sure you’re asleep he closes the book. With such a soft gaze he gently brushes the hair out of your face, smiling to himself. Then he gets up and turns the light off, walking out of your room and letting the door close with a soft click.

He isn’t surprised to find all of his boys camping out at the door.

He sighs, looking over the lot of them. From the looks of it they’ve been camping out here all day, or have been continuously coming back.

The only one who even has the decency to act sheepish that he’d been caught is Dick, and even then, he barely looks sorry.

Bruce shakes his head fondly at his boys, ushering them all out of the hallway to your room to let you sleep in peace

[moonartemisia]

Through His Strings || Itoshi Rin × Fem!Reader Fic

(Itoshi Rin birthday special)

Tags: Hints of fluff, NSFW, smut, foodplay, edging, rough play, oral, fingering, mutual stimulation, protected sex, teasing, romance, age-gap, mentioned of Japanese words, character aged-up, rin will be around 19 in this story, reader is around 22 (if you don't like the story, you may kindly scroll away)

Note: This is a late entry for celebrating my boy's birthday. It ended in 2 months while having a writer's block

"Huh? You never celebrated Rin's birthday before?"

In a moment of shock, Anri realized as her fellow team manager and analysis exclaimed. You of 22, another hired of the blue lock facility, team manager, and soccer analysis, and long-time partner of the puppeteer egoist, Rin Itoshi — never had celebrated his birthday before.

Much to Anri's disbelief knowing Rin's deprived character, You managed to pull him into their relationship despite his first-time lover. Rin did eventually work with you very well, as you carefully understood him a lot.

Although, in this case, spending some quality time together with Rin off of the Blue Lock's facility. The two of you personally haven't celebrated Rin's birthday. Nothing is going about a reason as to why you never get to ask nor questions Rin.

You think as if Rin is too exclusive and has his personal space to celebrate his birthday. But you being Rin's girlfriend is something that you both should've enjoyed while it's his special day, of course.

You avoided Anri's eye contact at her, tilting your head lower, sighing;

"Well, for long — I can't clearly seem to think Rin wouldn't like celebrating his birthday, his parents never informed me when they're planning to. I guess you should say it is a personal matter that he doesn't get to feel enjoyment as much as before. If I put it that way?"

"(Y/n)... you're his girlfriend, even if you're unsure to plan for his birthday, maybe make an effort to surprise him? I bet without a doubt he will appreciate it. Not in a way he expresses — just showing how grateful that it feels to him wouldn't be nice?"

You xontemplated for a bit — to simply put it that way; you don't know where to start on surprising Rin. Especially not knowing his reasons but based upon his upbringing and his gloomy change. You deeply think it is a personal matter. Rin doesn't get to celebrate his birthday at all with anyone. Unless if you would change the course of events, you love him with all your heart after all.

"Okay, I'll give it a try. In fact, it's been like 4 years, to be precise. I never get to question Rin on why he isn't letting anyone celebrate his birthday."

Anri assured you with a smile, she responding—

"I'm pretty sure Rin will answer once you surprise him. It can't be that hard to plan a birthday party. Something simple is better than a grand venue for him or none at all. You are surprising how much you mean to him. Besides, you did your best to understand Rin. But, when was the last time you encountered Rin doing things on his birthday before?"

"The usual, he plays horror games or watches horror movies."

You flatly answers Anri to her reaction, her eyes questionably blinking at your words. The Rin Itoshi is definitely weird... he likes dark stuff?

"Ah— normally he does that, but I don't mind about it. I get to play horror games with Rin sometimes."

"I see... uh — but most importantly, you get to have quality time for him. Anyways, you better get going and plan something on his birthday. It's coming soon, Miharu!"

Nodding at Anri's encouragement. You thanked her for giving an idea upon Rin's upcoming birthday. Heading off planning what would be the best gift to give for Rin's birthday.

This is much harder than I thought. He is a soccer player, he loves horror and stuff... I don't know what to give him—!?

You're turbulent with the decisions you needed to decide in order to buy Rin's gift — as a reminding girlfriend is specific on the choices. However, you can not give him all of these to him... materialistic things are the ones you are bad at thinking of as a gift. Since the you already know his hobbies and what he likes or not. You are detailed of the things you know of him from heart, you have thought about a person whom you care, deeply.

Should I buy him new cleats? But I guess Rin already has a new pair... Residents of Evil Games he probably have all of the latest to the newest release... uhm, a language book? I know Rin can pick up some languages he is rather a fast learner, although he doesn't have any interest in reading. Plus, a soccer addict he is only focused on soccer — perhaps a soccer ball? Ah, this is so frustrating!!!

Out of the blue, suddenly you missed your balance while fixating your plans over what gift you should give to your boyfriend. A trip on the foot against your heel with a slight hit scratched down —

Oh shi—

"Careful there..."

You blinked. Surprisingly, your head was pressed over — a warm, soft, yet cold scent of ackwood fragrance. A familiar tall stature as you looked up, meeting your eyes on those gleaming shades of teal you recognized...

It's Itoshi Rin.

"R-rin—"

"Watch your step next time, (Y/n)... you almost fell down."

The breath of his stern voice swayed up tingling your spine. You can't take your eyes off of him as the youngest Itoshi gazed down at you into his arms tightly.

"T-thanks, Rin—"

"You're in a hurry, (Y/n). Is everything alright?"

Rin asked, still holding onto you, his girlfriend, keeping your bodies enclosed. You reassured with a nod before answering him.

"Just some errands I have to handle with, don't worry."

"I can help if there are any problems."

Although you reassured Rin, eventually you turned down his offered assistance. Hopefully, this won't question the birthday boy sooner, but you have to make up excuses not to spoil your plans. You smiled, shaking your head —

"No need! It's fine."

"Are you sure? I mean, I'm pretty free enough to—"

"I already said no worries, Rin! Sorry about that, but I have to rush. This is important. I'll probably get back to you when I'm free, okay?"

The tall Ace was puzzled by the way you dashed off. He has a hunch of whatever you're up to something. However, you don't really want to spoil such a special day; with that said, keeping search to head out and plan some simple decorations and a cake for Rin to blow later. One thing you could ever do to is you would do all the things for Rin's birthday to be perfect, as fine as you thought it would.

Rin may not be experiencing celebrating his birthday with just the two of you since the start. It's quite odd to think how you will convince Rin to come over. You made your way instead to initiate planning his birthday inside your flat.

It'll be awkward if I asked his parents to help out, right? I mean, Rin doesn't celebrate his birthday unless it is personal for a reason. Yet there's Sae— but that's another story for now... I wanna make him happy for once!

At the time, you managed to bring what you needed, a cake from your favorite cafe and cake shop. You carried a fruity shortcake that has the birthday greeting and chocolate syrup written his name in Kanji. Some simple birthday decorations to display, balloons, and strings, lastly... but that's those are the rest you bought yet the gift on the other hand isn't.

"Gosh, I'm going to text him... Probably, this would do for now, right?"

Well just here at my apartment is fine, but the gift... You sulked.

You settled to get your preparations done. The time passed half an hour to set simple decorations, and you placing the cake down at the center of your kotatsu. Huffing aside, standing to look at your set up, all the lights were hanging by the wall, and a bit of balloons were left below besides the sofa along with the pillows to compliment your display. And last but not the least, a birthday banner. You won't definitely go overboard about the display if you think of putting a cardboard cut out of Rin. That's too much of a birthday dedication you put setting these all for him. However, you're worried you don't have a gift to present right now. Such a waste of effort.

What really steps up is to surprise Rin for his special day — meaning to say his first special day with you. That's all it matters. Your lips perked a small smile, paying your efforts off while you waited for the perfect moment to call Rin.

Okay, that settles it. I should call him now...

You sighing to pick up his mobile number on dial. Patiently, Rin's number beeps through the phone before a silent click notified.

"(Y/n)?"

"Rin, hey there..."

"You good? Earlier, you were in a rush. I was asking what's bothering you a while there."

He seems concerned, judging by the tone of his voice that you couldn't help giggling.

"Ah, I'm sorry for that earlier, babe. There was nothing wrong lately, I promise you. How about this, I'd like you to come here at my place, I'll tell you why."

"Right now? I'm here outside at the bay. Why not here over the phone?" Rin quipped.

"Just come, I'll tell you. Are you not busy at the moment?"

The young Itoshi sounded a bit skeptical at your invitation. He doesn't seem to get it why.

"No, then I'll go over there at your place, just walking. I'm busy reminiscing my thoughts for a bit. You could've joined me to whatever you're doing with your errands. As much as I'm happy to assist you."

"No need, thank you, Rin. I'm fine and done. Alright, I'll be seeing you here, waiting."

"Okay..."

Through his windy, coarsed voice answering you back, Rin immediately turned off his phone. Walking towards his way through the busy streets nearing your apartment where there will be a special surprise awaiting. It didn't took long for the soccer ace to arrive at the apartment's main doorstep. Rin looked up; reaching for the knob — opening it. Soon as he went inside walking passing by the doors, Rin stopped. Appearing in front of the your room number with a press of a finger, ringing the door bell.

"(Y/n), it's me..." Rin called.

He peered over the windown hole of its door. Checking if his you're present, his bright teal eyes notices the unit looked dim — inspecting around through the hole.

Until a click coming from the entrance, Rin was curious as he opened the door slowly. When he faced the room, a pop of confetti burst right on the spot.

"Surprise, Rin! Happy birthday!" You said while holding the cake, already lit up before he came as you time his arrival.

His eyes dilated the moment you stormed to his way of surprise. Rin couldn't process what was happening, but his eyes windowed, feeling a warm greeting coming from you and the cake you're holding sparks his expression.

"You — I ... you remembered?" Rin stuttered for a moment, his head tilted up swooning his long bangs. You can tell to his reaction, he looks speechless and delighted by your special dedication.

"Yeah, of course! Why wouldn't I? Heh, happy birthday, baby."

"All for this? You shouldn't have to—"

"As much as I wanted your birthday to be special, Rin. Plus, it's our first celebration we had together as a couple. Enjoy your birthday here, alone."

He couldn't take how much you put everything for him. Rin knew that the two of you hadn't celebrated his birthday for years. It made the tall player feel a bit guilty for not letting you know amongst anyone who could celebrate his birthday. Rin never doubted how lonely it is to be, but birthdays are just normal days for him to just rejoice in a new age of this year. Now that he has you, everything has changed. The two of you went inside of your apartment, skipping the interlude.

Like a stubborn kid he is, Rin didn't make a wish as he blows the candle directly on his cake.

You frowned at his bluntness, brushing it off giggling. "Really? No wish?"

"Come on, it's my birthday... (Y/n), I won't waste any minutes in silence for a wish."

"I bet you have wishes you wanna make. Care to share?"

The young Itoshi whisked his eye contact away, quietly pondering his thoughts.

"One thing for sure... I wish to beat my brother just for the sake. I know he will recognize what I have... Complicated to mention as you know what I aim for."

You understood what he meant, solely for this purpose, to fulfill his dream of becoming a striker and in hopes for his brother’s recognizing downfall. This piqued your curiosity to ask him why you and him haven't celebrated his birthday. You sensed as a clue of thought towards the way Rin mentioned his past again.

You were aware of their brother rivalry ever since Rin explained it to you — a year, when the two of you are dating. Sae crushed his dreams that the brothers used to share. His older brother that Rin looks up to — betrayed their dreams over an unreasonable decision without knowing what could've cause Sae's light to fade into the darkness. Sae departed from Japan to Spain in order to be a striker; completely diminished as his shadows were. He chose a different path that made Rin puzzled, angered, and felt lost over him. Never did Sae open to his family about what had happened to him there as far as Sae lives on no longer to be a striker, but a known midfielder on the field.

"Rin, can I ask?"

"Hm?" His head bobbed at your side, looking at you.

"Why aren't you celebrating your birthday? Well, especially me? I know it's a tough and personal question for me to ask. Come to think of it that I'm your girlfriend who's willing to pay respect on whatever you want or decide. But if it's about how your upbringing led by Sae's change of heart. Then, I'll understand for sure."

Rin stayed silent for a moment, though your words stood up right. It was all for the sake he didn't want to face Sae after all that occurred. It frustrates him whenever his parents tried to convince Sae to come home from Spain just to celebrate and greet Rin. Keeping the broken brotherhood hidden from them. Rin, dully requesting his parents not to invite Sae as he makes up excuses, which started it all.

"I don't, I just don't want to celebrate it. Yet, every time my birthday comes, my parents always throw me a party along with niichan... howeber, things have changed, and I don't expect coming from him to say a word. Not even a bit."

"Rin..."

"Simple as I can put it... birthdays without him or so it's a normal day for me. But..."

He closely moved a few inches closer to you, his eyes deeply staring over your glimmering pupils that he can see himself through. The moment where he placed his hand on top of yours firmly. Rin isn't good with words openly. It's difficult to express what he wants to convey his emotions.

"You're here... and I'm happy with that, I thanked you for putting this for me."

Those soothing words of gratitude escaped his lips and felt a tingling music. Genuinely, Rin's eyes aren't showing any disappointment or dissatisfaction about a simple birthday until it pop you—

"Ah, sorry, I forgot that I don't have a gift for you."

Yeah, I have to remind him that

Rin didn't mind, shaking his head slightly, bringing himself closer to you. His left arm glided at your waist to go next to him. Pressing each side — eyeing as you look at his soft, alluring, gently eyes. You never seen Rin this soft. The birthday boy seems pleased.

"I never wanted a gift. Much more what I want is you..."

He replied as soon as he got to reach his cake using his finger. The white creamy frosting swiped through his slender finger, gazing at it before sucking it to taste.

"Not too sweet." He commented,

"Wanna try some?"

"Umm, sure."

Remaining his stern facade while using the same finger, he hooked another frosting from the cake. He brought it closely to your face.

"Here, suck it."

"But, I can get a plate—"

"No worries, it's clean. So, here, " as he assisted to let you lick his fingers clean, a lewd thought of your head distracted you when his finger was right in front of you with frosting coated on top. You were a little hesitant as if Rin isn't ick about this.

But, you dragged his wrist, holding it more, bringing his finger towards your lips. You slowly let your tongue out, proceeding to supple the coated frosting on Rin's finger. It tasted right, especially when it's on him. Delecting the right amount off sugary egg whites toppling your saliva, you opened your mouth a bit to suck his finger clean without a spick of cream on. There's a slight of fruity citrus lingered your sinuses coming from the fruity shortcake. Soon as you let go from sucking his finger connecting a strand of saliva through your gapped lips.

Rin was watching he didn't expect how this — mewl reaction the moment you sucked his fingers like a baby who needed milk from a mother. It instantly made the young Ace feel a knot on his stomach just by seeing the way you indulged his finger with cream on it. His ears reddened at the sight of you.

Cute...

"You're right... it taste good."

You said looking at Rin, your voice almost trembling as your lips numbed.

"I guess the cake would sit elsewhere than the plate would it?"

Before you could say a word, you noticed Rin got some naughty fingers right up onto his sleeves. Two fingers went to swipe another coating of frosting messing the cake in the process — smudging on your cheek, lips, and neck. A turmoil of conflicted excitement yet a turn on — alluding approach Rin had in his mind. With a slight pull over your body next to his, he came sealing his lips on yours deeply. Tasting the creamy frosting, the rest of it gotten a messy trail over the corners of your face. Rin is busy taking every sweetness he flicked the frosting on your lips, shoving his tongue inside your opening wet walls and tongue to play.

"H-hmmmph—"

It's afloat of addiction heating between the two of you savoring each other's tongue. This doesn't leave the soccer player to travel his wet muscle all over you, licking your cheeks that left with more frosting going down to your jawline. Such a delectable treat coming it seems the birthday boy enjoys. He paused for a bit, glancing at you.

"You know what? Fuck the unplanned gift..."

He pushes you onto the edge of the sofa, you meekly thud over the hardened cushion — Rin's hazy teal eyes suddenly speaks eagerness to devour you. Reaching his hand to caress and cup your cheek that stained his saliva.

"Guess that I have the perfect one to unwrap tonight."

Even a growl upon his lips snatched back again, his body hovering on top of you — taking his charge tasting his sweet little present under. He stopped halfway just to take a good look at your neck. His eyes locked over, where he covered the side with frosting. His hand dusted your strands of hair away to give a clear view on where he can place his dessert. The closer his goes, jaded with unbearable desire — implanting his kisses on your neck. Tilting your head aside giving him access to taste you.

"Hmm, R-rin..."

"Stay like that. You're so delicious."

A humming squirm escape through your lips that made the young Itoshi feel butterflies, the oozing excitement filled his explicit urges to unwrap you— his presentable sweet gift. As he resumes to give those sticky licks and nibbles through. He aches for your beautiful and ravaging figure, Rin can't get enough that your flesh blends well into the coated frosting he playfully painted you. He didn't care about your supposed gift. He wants you, and only you.

His fingers wiggled through the hem of your blouse teasing it, slightly pulling, tugging, and snakes down all the way by the buttons he brushed. While lapping your skin delicately than the cake you prepared for him to eat. You're far off better than that sweet treat leaving beside the kotatsu with smothering ruined frosting displayed. But what not having two desserts to enjoy won't hurt? You unraveled your eyes meeting his dark hair below before he could even unbuttoned you but stopped.

"(Y/n)..." He breathes under your neck.

"R-rin..."

"Move your blouse away, or I'll undo it."

You compile to his demand, and he sets aside to let you unbutton your blouse one by one on those circular pegs. However, the puppeteer striker can't hold his patience while watching you slowly undress yourself.

"Ugh, fuck it. You're too slow—"

Aggressively, Rin pushes you back to the sofa, your back laid down, taking full control to take off your garmet away from his sight as he pleads to. His hands went over to toggle it, undoing the buttons fast-paced — tearing the buttons almost ripping it apart. You watched — flustered at his needy urges. As he is close to completely unbuttoned your blouse that revealed your cleavage, your bra fully suppled the cupping breasts underneath. Rin noticed a frosting that left from his delectable licks stained down on your collarbone to the valley line of your chest. With his stern reaction, remains sneakily licked his lips that entices you. Never did you see Rin in his control like this. Nonetheless, you'll give the birthday boy what he truly wants. He presses himself down on you to take the mark on. It tickles your senses, heaving a moan upon his guard. Rin grunted a bit — even a mild view of your body could kill or broke himself. Just by how mesmerizing your body is to him.

"I would mind coating you more than just the frosting, (Y/n)... in fact I'd fucking go more than you pictured than a cake itself..."

It didn't make it long for Rin to tear down your blouse aside while hovering you close to his body. The heat tensed so much that you couldn't hold yourself — embracing Rin's head over to your chest tightly as he can to feel you. Finishing the part where his left hand took the deed — going to unclasp your bra behind, mastering his hand with a "ting" sound of the hook. Your eyes dilated that Rin's fingers managed to do that in one go. Now exposing those bouncing, suckable, lapping nips before his eyes. His subtle expression remains, but not his eyes leaving into temptation to eat you whole.

He gets another stroke of frosting to coat over your nipples. The sweet and touched fingers shivered you badly. He teases your nipples pinching them. Rin advantages this moment to see how tempting this would've been — breasts coated with frosting. The jaded emo stared, a hand slowly placed cupping your other breast peering below the meeking nip. Letting out his tongue to give a good sucking taste. You flinched —

"H-hmm—"

"Don't move, I'm just getting started..."

He replied intently focusing on sucking you. The sweet frosting invited his tastebuds turns him on. Rin never did such crude things to you over a food. Yet, it turns the hell out of the young Itoshi, murmuring how good you taste for him like a wolf munching his prey under. You're helpless — Rin toppled you in this mess for a special day turning into something steamy you didn't expect.

How juicy and perky your nipples glazed on his saliva, cleaned by his wet muscle that glided you electrical feelings you couldn't describe. Heavenly feeling, but lewd. Rin grunted once more as he continues to tease you switching to another breast sucking the left. Meanwhile his hands slide down to your pants, as if this is a difficult thing for the naughty puppeteer to get away with it. Just a few strokes under your denims — hurdling a moan. You can obviously sense his teasing are getting more aggressive and impatient. Although your pants are in the way, Rin growled annoyingly as he replaced his hand away — a thigh eagerly went to go in between yours rubbing it to get your clit some attention.

"R-rin wait— "

He didn't listen, Rin pauses looking up to you his bangs wavering his right eyes messily.

"This might take awhile..."

✧.*✧.*✧.*

All the minor teases and engaging of food that happened, the two of you couldn't get enough of this play. Rin had enough of the fun, things were about to hit real. He ordered for you to strip fully naked in front as you were sitting on the sofa — legs spread open. Rin was left in his usual cold expression but lies with devious schemes upon his sleeves. What a birthday blowout indeed for the young Itoshi to explore his inner desires after smudging lots of sticky frosting on top portion of your body. But, no it wasn't enough for him.

"Rin... I don't think I can spread it like this wide for you..." the mewling response coming from the shyness gut, Rin showed a sly smirk.

"Keep it that way... you ain't seen the rest of what I can do."

He nearly bends down to you, the cake was later ruined from all the taste testing, now for the fun part. Curiously Rin had a few frosting strokes to cover over your wet clit and slit gently through his fingers — you gasped.

"That's ahh... R-rin you're so dirty—"

As the lateral ignorance he pulled off, his eyes were glued onto your opening moist pussy. His fingers laid to play on them with frosting. Look how much of a treat you are.

"Perfect..."

Rin thought, you were concentrated over him blinking your eyes to watch his head go lower to your clit as he savors you. He flickered a tongue out to get the essence he wanted to smell — the smell that you belong to him, your beloved sex scent that alludes him deeply. You trembled under his touch, traveling your hand onto his head ruffling his dark hair. It encourages him to keep going as he eats you in absolute best. Whining and shaking on him. Your legs were stiffened trying to manage them wide open for Rin.

He was too busy eating your pussy down, but his hands grope your inner thighs for support, it relieved you as he goes. Still your hands are over his hair, moaning by his tongue play all over. He opened his mouth entering the sweet addiction brimming his tensions. You couldn't keep your legs open on one second as his hands were there assisting support.

"A-ahh... ahhh~ Rin, more—"

You cooed over, Rin definitely eats you good and feels you good down there. However, his lustful anticipation met with his crotch bulging over his pants. But that didn't matter at all for him to treat you first until he can order once more.

With a slick of his messy hair aside using his left hand away to brush a few strands, that send you off of the edge. You leaked juices onto his lapping mouth that Rin left without a single drop. He looks at you.

"You came badly, huh? I'm not done with you yet."

After a little tongue tease to your pussy his slender and long finger went to touch your slit first, a slow stroke of his finger shivered making you huffed another gasp of air — insatiable he does sinful things to your body completely aching for the young Itoshi below you.

You can feel your legs getting numb the longer he teases you, but Rin oh good Rin loves the sight of you being helpless against his grudges. His fingers went up to play and rub your clit melting you away.

"A-ah.... ahhh~ Rinrin—"

You purred, Rin's face came up closer, smirking.

"Beautiful response, that's what I love to hear..."

He keeps continuing to play that cute little nib of your pussy until you can't fully control yourself. With a mischief movement Rin does, adoring such sweet pleases coming from your cute voice. He lowered his strokes in — entering your walls through his brim. His long fingers feeling your clenching wet pussy leaking at your core.

"A-ahhh—! Ha— Rin please!"

"Please what, hm? You want this? I see what you're getting."

He pushes his fingers through, this time with force; going back and forth to feel the sore tightening walls. You tear a bit feeling the warmth below as Rin is focusing to make you loose yourself for him. Though at this point he'll have to save your orgasm for later —

"Don't cum until I say so, you hear that, baby? If you cum I'll make sure you won't be able to see lights tonight."

You meeked, crying over the river watching your pussy getting fingered by Rin's strokes over and over. Pleading to him as if you're chanting a prayer — helplessly oozing onto his command.

Rin enjoys this view and side of you getting weak so badly for him and he will keep you on the edge. Claiming that you are under his control. That you yearned for this moment belonging his touch. However, the growing grunts became erratic. Somehow looking at his own bulge through his pants — he won't be behaving at his own might doing finger fucking on you.

"Ah fuck this — "

He stopped halfway on meeting your orgasm, you almost left yourself feeling the urge to cum soon. But Rin demanded no.

You stared at the tall soccer player minding his own pants. He brought his fingers up to him mouth a bit licking your pre-cum. With a hint of smirk upon his face.

"Sweetest cake, dear..."

He turns over you leading his fingers to your lips poking it to have a taste of your own as well.

"Suck."

You obliged his request, lapping the tongue out of your mouth as you suck his fingers coated your cum — it taste like the cake from where he smudged all the way. Once that it has cleared, Rin intends to lower his pants, aching at the sight of his boxers showing his needy dick. Rin hissed by how hard it is, your arousal then arises by the view of his cock bulging visibly over his undergarment.

"Y-you need help? I can fix that...."

"Well, I don't mind a hand now, right? Be a good girl for me, stroke my cock while I finger you until I can fuck you any moment."

"Still not gonna let me cum?"

"Not until we both do."

Rin comes forward to your side of the sofa, he places himself; you volunteering to purr over as well. Slightly bringing your legs again wide open — little numb from earlier. You help Rin adjust his strap from his boxers away that jolts his cock out like a spring.

"Oh..." you gulped

"As if you've never seen my cock in ages, (Y/n)..." Rin commented hissing how it throbs out in front of you, chuckling.

"H-hurry... hand me."

You nodded, back in position this time — fingers are over again your walls gently. Rin's cock twitching by your hand those feathering strokes entices him so much that his head went up against the leaning cushion causing him to groan.

"Hnngh... ahh, (Y/n)..."

"R-rin..."

A playful interactions of you both, one's hand slowly rubbing his exciting friend for an invitation later while he fucks your pussy using his fingers that spreads you into milky heaven already sends you two into ravishing ecstasy. You couldn't help how hot it is — a teamwork better than how Rin could see in his soccer game.

"(Y/n)... don't stroke it faster. Let it be ah—"

Rin wants to keep this orgasm for the real fun part. But you couldn't help it as his dick craves for you wet muscles and mouth inside.

He sighed, taking your fingers out sensing you're about to cum for a moment.

"You bend over, come on... suck my cock."

"Okay..."

Bluntly Rin commands you bringing your mouth on his needy cock for a good head. A birthday boy giving so many requests on his special day indeed, it wouldn't mind you. You're feeling the similar arousal around his grip. You sat down on the floor meeting his cock as it twitches before your pleasing eyes. Your throat lumping needing to take this up a notch for some good dick. You placed your hand once more on his rod, Rin patiently looks at you as your eagerness to relief him makes your gut knot hard.

While your hand does the job, leaning your head on the tip slowly tasting his succulent pre-cum on the weehole that tingles you. Goosebumps left your body tasting his glucose fluids — Rin can't stand how good that felt. Hitching his breath under you, his hand moving towards your hair rubbing you as you bobbed your head a bit up and down for you to suckle his milky pre-cum.

"H-hey... don't — not so fast..."

The young Itoshi grunted, looking down at your bended figure pleasing his dick. Your eyes were intently gagged onto his hardening cock. Rin could feel he is about to cum any moment.

"(Y/n)... didn't I say not to make me cum just yet? You naughty Missy..."

He brought up his hand through your locks, encircling his hand around your head. He gripped a few strands forcing you to stop sucking his cock as you meet his lustful teal eyes.

You cooed at this rough moment. Rin pulled your hair the way it makes you feel so submissive to him. His pre cum was painted onto the corners of your mouth which he expects so. But not purposely going to reach his limits just yet —

He stayed still onto the sofa before he slowly let's go of your hair. He gestured his palm, patting his thigh while he examined your nude figure so helplessly. Another order to be prompted —

"H-huh?"

"This will be going all night for us... but, go get me a pack of condom by the drawers — I bet you have one..."

You nodded to his complaint, simply getting what it seems to be protected from a wild session. Rin wanted to savor his special day with you until you couldn't seem to fully compromise yourself to the limit. As you brought the condom along in your hand before Rin gently snatched it away. He breaks a tear of the condom using his mouth.

To be added...

@moonartemisia 2023☆ | do not copy my works

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Alright, cat’s out of the bag (and that cat’s name is Gidel) – we’ve just finished the Stage in Playful Land event! Well, it wasn’t really a surprise for some because we’ve been spamming Ko-fi with sketches related to this event for a while now, but.

I have a lot of thoughts, and now I can finally reply to a lot of very old asks about it (more HCs!), but I have to gather my thoughts first.

So for now, some short replies! Some of them aren’t Fellow and Gidel related, by the way.

Anonymous asked:

f–fellow... in your style... I just saw, I was that anon that asked—

THANK YOUUUU 💖💖💖 AH!!! 🙌 THANK YOU THANK YOU IT'S BEAUTIFUL! 🥹🦊

Very much looking forward to any more artwork of him, if you decide to draw more!! 🧡

Anonymous asked:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU FOR BLESSING ME WITH MY BOIS FELLOW AND GIDEL THEY ARE SO JUST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Anons! I am so happy you like how they look hehehe. You’ve waited for so long…

We’ve never really doubted it, but still: drawing these two is so ridiculously fun. They are so delightful with their bright colours and fun silhouettes, and they have this vibe of a very old Disney movie (mostly because of the eyebrows, coloured shiny eyelids and the ear shape for Gidel lol). Not to mention the sprites’ animations are so fun, I really-really wanted to draw them.

So yeah, to answer the first Anon… I’ve been drawing Fellow pretty much every day while we were going through the event, so I’m guessing we’ll post more 😭

Anonymous asked:

Any ships for Fellow?

Just updated our pinned! We ship him with Gidel (duh), with pretty much every boy that participated in the event (excluding Vil and Leona, since we don’t see them as tops) and with all of Fellow’s shady bosses and all the rich men he serves to lol What a variety.

wonderlandwriting asked:

Your pinned post: gets updated with top!Gidel and bottom!Fellow. Me: Oh? 👀 Mind elaborating on that/spare some HCs if you please? 😏 (if the reason Gidel is a top is because of a Specific Scene near the end of the event... God bless, I love the way you think)

Anonymous asked:

omg! omg! top!Gidel???? do have any headcanons for the shota kitty?

Anonymous asked:

i see you added Gidel to your tops list!!!

my favorite kitty boy!!

You guys are fast, the fact that you’ve noticed that it’s updated..!

HEHEHE Gidel is wonderful!

To be honest, from the very moment their designs dropped we never really questioned if he’d be a top, and I don’t know if this is just his vibes or our preferences lol But we really do love the small-but-mighty type, and imagining him as a tiny top (that absolutely shouldn’t be allowed to do all those things yet) next to a huge deep-voiced used-by-powerful-men bottom is too much fun. We weren’t sure with Fellow at first (imagine having an option not to have these two as a ship, wow scary), but as we started watching the event itself, it all became clear.

Not to mention these two have this vibe of “two of us against the world, surviving despite everything”, and things like that always melt our hearts.

As for the specific scene… do you mean the Bonk scene or the jumping around and hugging + being called a dummy scene? Both were super cute…

We do have some HCs, but I’ll share those later! Sorry for the wait, I really can’t keep up with all the hc lists, but I’ll do it I swear 💪😔

Anonymous asked:

I wish there was more idia x ortho content :( it's just never enough

You are so right, Anon. It really is never enough :( Let’s work towards the beautiful future when there will be a lot of Shroudcest… 🥰 from me included...

Anonymous asked:

T-two Rooks... scary😰

Double the damage, I mean the charm! Rook sandwich!

Anonymous asked:

Someone could hide in Rook’s boobs and never be found again…

As long as it isn’t the second Rook, we’re safe…

Anonymous asked:

I know the rabbit event in TWST has long been over but I finally had time to read it and my only 2 thoughts are, black bunnies leader x deuce is my new (crack) otp and seeing the sprites zoom around the screen is the best thing about the game

We haven’t watched the rabbit event yet, but you are intriguing me, Anon. So this is why Deuce didn’t take Ace there – so we could have a romance between the bunnies 😭

Also, the sprites’ “physics” in-game is always very funny. I can’t wait to see more of it when we finally get to watch this one lol It’s such a surprisingly funny visual comedy with all those goofy sounds.

Anonymous asked:

Hopefully this isn't spoiling too much, but Silver DID call Lilia something else when he was a kid, and it's super adorable ❤️❤️❤️ it really makes me wonder when and why he started calling him oyaji-dono 🤔 god I want to know everything about Silver's weird childhood... and also everything about everyone else's weird childhoods.........

Ohhh 👀 Now you’re also intriguing me, Anon (no worries about spoilers in this particular case, you’re good!) Then I agree, Lilia would totally swoon over the fact that Silver suddenly decided to call him that! He’d get all happy and mood breaking that it would almost bother Silver, but then Lilia would suddenly go back to do the sexy thing... Probably still commenting on that though lol

It really is adorable. Every time Silver reminisces about his childhood, it’s a journey… so I agree, it would be great to know absolutely everything about these years and what he went through. At what point did he decide that Lilia deserves to be addressed in a respectful manner and how Lilia feels about it… we’ll find out at some point, I’m sure~

[vibratingskull]

"Could I request a one-shot where Thrawn has feelings for reader/you and makes things go so that the two can be alone?" - @straighteye-cartoonfan

Thrawnxgn!reader

"... We will need to intercept them before they reach the nebula."

The grand admiral Thrawn is once again exposing his genius plans before the battle and you're diligently noting everything on your datapad. You've become very quick at typing, which saved you more than once when it came to reports. One could say you don't pay attention, barely raising your head from the screen but on the contrary, you're never as much focused than when you're typing. 

"If they ever were to reach the nebula, we will send the Flensor and the Shyrack after them. At the same time the operations on Tyrahnn will continue. Governor Pryce you could go on the terrain to supervise the troops, Admiral Konstantine you will aide her from orbit, commander Faro you will guide the Chimaera to Tyrahn, and Skerrys I want you and your pilots ready for an intervention at any given time .”

You’re typing at the speed of light, not losing any crumbs of information. You finally raise your head from the datapad to observe the chiss. You had so much admiration for him, for his genius. The fact that a non-human achieved such a high rank was a testimony to his talent and hard work and it inspired you to work even harder and give yourself at 200%. You hug your datapad against your chest, eyes on the blue man finishing to give his orders.

“You’re dismissed.”

You stay quiet, not knowing what to do. Everyone got their orders and headed towards their duty but he didn’t mention you. Speechless you look at him unmoving, waiting for his next words. You knew your duties very well but he specifically asked for your presence at this meeting, you assumed he had special orders for you too. 

“Captain (y/n)...” He says looking at you.

You straighten your back, ready for anything to be thrown at you. He observes you in silence a moment and you can’t discern what his gaze mean, you squirm uneased. 

"Come with me."

You release a breath you didn't know you were holding. He's not angry with you, what a relief. You follow him to his office where some refreshments have been brought. You sit down on the chair he designates to you, still hugging the datapad. 

"I noticed you tend to note everything down during meetings." He starts. 

"Yes ! It helps me with my memory." You laugh nervously. 

You know he values competences over everything and confessing this little weakness makes you a tad uncomfortable. 

But he shakes his head with a grin, leaning against the desk, close to you.

“I could use those reports you write. You should give them to me so I can keep a tab on all that is said during those sessions.” His tone is low and soft, almost fondant.

You frown, you thought records existed for that very reason. But it not your place to question a Grand Admiral. What he wants you will give to him.

“Of course, Grand Admiral. At what address should I send them?”

“You will put them on a datacard and come give it to me… each… evening…” He answers, detaching each word. He’s fully towering you, devouring you with his glowing eyes.

You must have hallucinated because you thought you saw him lick his lips. That’s silly of you, of course he didn’t.

“As you wish, Grand admiral.”

“Indeed. As I wish…”

You look up at him.

“I’m sorry?” you inquire with innocence, or is it naïvety?

He smiles, flashing you his canine for a second before walking away from the desk and circling you. Suddenly the light lowers in a subdued atmosphere and holograms of pieces of art start lighting up. 

“Tell me (y/n), what do you think about art?”

Ah, yes! Art! His favorite fancy. You don’t have to think too much.

“Well I’m far from being an expert but I’m open to having my horizon broadened. I do like art if it is what you're wondering.”

He reappears with two glasses of Chandrilan ravaa, handing you one with sparkling eyes.

“Oh (y/n), we have so much to talk about…”

@Bluechiss, @Thrawnalani, @justanothersadperson93,

@al-astakbar

[heylittleriotact]

It’s Wednesday. Have a WIP.

“If we’re able to find Thaniel’s other half, we may be able to convince him to become whole again.”

Grateful for the return to the subject of Thaniel, Echo said, “Do you have any idea where to begin looking?”

“He could be anywhere.” Halsin sighed and resumed his carving, the rasping sound of metal on wood filling the silence that hung between them. Echo tried to make out what it was he was carving, but his large hands concealed too much of the shape for it to be clearly seen. “But he is a strong spirit and the corruption would not have been able to take him completely. There will be signs: if we look for indications of life in this place - fresh blooms and the like - we will be able to follow them.”

“I suppose some colorful flowers would stand out in a place like this.”

“Again, thank you for this. I regret that I can’t be of more help with the parasites, but you have my word that I will aid you in whatever capacity I can for the duration of your journey.”

“Oh. Uh… that’s very thoughtful.” Echo felt her cheeks heat and concealed her face by pretending to scratch her head. She had actually been hoping to speak with the druid about something else. She looked around, making sure no one - especially not Astarion - was within earshot. “I’d been meaning to ask you… uhm…” Gods she couldn’t believe she was doing this… “Because no one else would know - I don’t think - and fuck maybe you don’t either, but ah… are you at all familiar with vampire physiology? Spec-specifically whether or not they’re ah… fertile?”

She was certain that if she could see her face it would rival Karlach’s natural shade of crimson, and she realized with horror that she was resting her hands over her lower belly. She tore them away hastily and occupied one by feverishly gnawing on a fingernail - a terrible habit, but a favored fallback in times of extreme stress.

Halsin frowned as she finished her question, and Echo wanted nothing more than to be sucked into a hole in the ground.

“You fear that you are with child.” It wasn’t a question: it was an observation. “Astarion’s child.”

“Yes, I fear that I am.” She hissed, immediately feeling defensive at the perceived implication of sympathy: she wasn’t looking for that. She was looking for someone who was capable of confirming whether or not she should be worried about this in the first place, because if she should be, she needed to figure out a way to deal with it as soon as possible.

[cinnamonest]

not too sure if you've already put thought into it, but which yanderes would be/wouldn't be willing to break bones? i feel like for most of them it's a hard yes but depending on the circumstances and their mental fragility.

also sadisim. (COUGHCOUGHCHILDECOUGHCOUGH)

ignore this ask if you've already answered/have a question similar to this (or just don't want to answer/! and if your reqs are closed and my tumblrs just tweaking that's okay too!!

I would say Albedo initially, but he's a practical man, if you're not going to be using the limbs anyway might as well just take them off, so… as for some others…

Kazuha does it for practicality, specifically your ankles. It's a useful risk prevention method.

He still feels bad, and he apologizes… but he doesn't hesitate much. After all, he did give you fair warning, but you ran off yet again. This is just to keep you safe, for your own well-being, and for his peace of mind.

He's sweet about it too. He puts your hand against his arm beforehand, and tells you here, you can squeeze down on my arm, okay? After all, it will help with the initial pain.

He's still sweet when you squirm away and whimper, even though the grip with which he pulls you back is harsh.

I know. But I can't let you be a danger to yourself…

He holds you gently for however long it takes you to stop crying. He'll get you water and food and painkillers/alcohol, tends to your every need, waits on you hand and (broken) foot. Notably, once the initial reaction has died down, he stops really acknowledging it in any meaningful way, talks to you as if everything is normal. Even when addressing your leg, he talks about it as if it were some injury you acquired by other means.

You might be spiteful enough to bring it up and remind him that it's his fault, but he's quick to correct you, keeping a soft voice and gentle smile all the while.

You did have every opportunity to choose otherwise, you know. Ah, but I know you're upset… it's okay if you blame me.

He'll be fully patient for you to heal, too. He’s very cheerful once it's fully healed, says he's glad you're better, helps you walk around a bit to get readjusted, keeping his hands firmly supporting you the entire time. Even for a while after it's healed enough to walk, he checks on it from time to time to ensure the final stages of mending are going well.

He tells you you're fully healed, with a soft voice and ever-pleasant smile, not without adding—

Let’s hope it stays that way.

----

Childe has to be in a more angry mood than usual to get to that point. Usually, his form of sadism is the sort that focuses on a sort of pleasure-pain, the sort he can get off to… but this is a bit different.

It's only because you keep being irritating. He's really tolerant, you know? He's been so lenient, he tells you, he's been so nice, he's been so good to you, and what do you do? You keep being mean. It's cute up to a certain point, but you're being like, really really mean.

It's actually kind of nice, on his end, to see your immediate reaction — you can tell just by the strained smile and clenched teeth as he speaks that you've crossed some sort of line. For once, you actually shrink back, clutch your hands up at your chest defensively, start to take some steps back… but you can't get away fast enough before you're drug forward by the hair or neck.

Come on… it's not that hard to be good, is it?

It's a last chance — he's nice enough to give you that, at least, even if you don't deserve it (which you don't, he thinks). Come on. You can be good, you can apologize and submit and he'll forget all the spiteful shit you've done today and then you can have a nice, happy rest of the day. You can do it. It should be easy. He takes one of your hands in his, holding it with a sort of sincere pleading gesture.

But, even though you should know better, you still remain spiteful through your fear, narrow your eyes and tell him no. You try to jerk your hand away, only to find his grip on it is iron-firm.

His smile twitches.

Aw. That's too bad.

And thus, you process the sound and sight before the pain — you see him take your hand and twist it, hear the snap, and only then does the pain shoot up through your wrist, through your arm and to every nerve in your body. It's bad enough that you fall to your knees, squealing, cradling the now-unnaturally-twisted limb.

Yes, he's very very nice, but admittedly, hearing you wail like that is rather pleasing, all things considered. More so when he grabs you by the jaw, jerks your head up to force you to look at him, and sees the tears in your eyes, the way your face contorts with pain.

Maybe you can be good now…?

This time, you squeeze your eyes shut, frantically nodding your head, a pitiful little sound coming out of your throat. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't very satisfying.

---

There's also a notable difference between willing to break bones and likelihood of breaking bones, actively willing or not.

Some non-humans are particularly unaware of their strength — Xiao fits this well. He genuinely doesn't like hurting you, although you would think so, based on how much he does, it's just that he forgets how fragile you are. For someone of his strength, your body might as well be made of glass.

So it just sort of happens… he grabs you by the arm or leg and pulls in the wrong direction a bit too hard, there's a stomach-churning snapping sound and suddenly you're shrieking and crying. It startles him quite a bit — he lets go and shrinks back, all wide-eyed and head darting from side to side as he looks around in confused panic.

But just as with fragility, he's also not very aware of the durability of the human body. He’s not great at gauging severity of injury — normally, he just attacks creatures until they stop moving, because that's his goal when it comes to his responsibilities.

So he has no real reference for how much damage he's done. Bones are all connected, yes? He probably broke something important, or made some internal organ come apart somehow, and it will kill you. The thought sends him into a full-fledged panic, he's bolting off and dragging help back as fast as physically possible, explaining that you have sustained mortal injury and are on the verge of death.

He's at least comforted to learn that that is in fact not the case, and you have merely broken your arm, which, the innkeeper confirms, is in fact not fatal. He's too relieved to notice the blatant frustration in her voice (this marks the fourth time he's insisted you are about to die over something actually far more trivial), and merely nods when she asks to please be more careful.

He doesn't really know how to handle the matter from there. He feels guilty about it. You're obviously in pain, and it's his fault. He'll sit next to you, hunched over and staring with those big yellow eyes as if trying to make you heal faster with sheer willpower. Makes sure you don't get up and move around (despite your insistence that your legs are just fine — still can't take risks, he says), disappears for a while each day and comes back with mountaintop herbs that are supposed to dull pain.

He doesn't outright say sorry, but you can see the remorse on his face and in his actions, and it's actually kind of pitiful… it reminds you of a little kid that broke a vase sheepishly trying to put it back together… all in all, you can't really bring yourself to be harsh about it.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

As a smut writer with a vagina, I always struggle a bit to explore the sensations that penis-havers experience during arousal. I know what’s getting hard looks like, but not what it feels like internally.

Combining my research and, echem, other needs, a writing prompt: Steve explaining to a formerly chemically castrated recovering Bucky what getting hard feels like, and how to recognize arousal. What it feels like when he wants him. Reminding Bucky of those feelings and talking him into his first erection in 70 years.

Ah jeeze, I sent that writing request for Steve explaining to Bucky what it feels like to get hard and I just realized how completely invasive and assuming some of that ask was. I really apologize.

You're okay! That's a fair question/request, and this is the place to come with it, lol.

First, though, I do have to say that, coming from my personal experience, the way smut writers without dicks (as far as I'm aware, lol) describe dicks and erections is usually pretty on the money. It's hot [temperature wise]. It's throbbing. It's tight and, well, hard. It's also often annoying when an erection just... happens. Because it happens randomly, too. It's not just a teenage thing, unfortunately, lol. (I mean, it's (usually) not a full erection like it can be in teendom, but it's still a thing as you get older.)

Second, I could've sworn I read a fic where Bucky was castrated surgerically and was struggling with arousal/erections but I can't find it again :/

Okay, onto this prompt:

*trigger warning for off screen, insinuated HYDRA Trash Party/HYDRA typical violence

This would be a fucking challenge for them. Not only because recovery is tough--recovery from anything--but especially recovery from 70 fucking years of brainwashing and torture.

Also, this is challenging because Steve very much is also deprogramming from his own trauma as well as struggling with his Catholic upbringing. That shame runs deep. Steve is very, very good at feeling shame and guilt.

When Bucky presents him with the question of, "what is it like?" As they're discussing the reversal effects, returning libidos, and coming off of the chemical castration drugs, pamphlets spread out messily over the kitchen island counter, Steve is absolutely tongue-tied. He stammers and blushes and squirms in his kitchen bar stool.

Bucky, in contrast, is sitting still. His voice is even. Fine. "Getting an erection," he clarifies without issue, "what does it feel like?" There's a crease between his dark eyebrows. It's the look he gets when he's thinking, specifically, when he's trying to remember something that's fuzzy--just out of reach and slipping from between his fingers more and more by the second.

Steve isn't sure if that tone of voice and the neutrality is Bucky being Bucky--he never had much shame before. Before... all of this. He always was a flirt, a charmer. As soon as he had an experience, when they were old enough, he told Steve things about girls that Steve felt like would cause God to open hell directly underneath them. Earth gaping. Swallowing them whole. He couldn't ever explain why he stuttered out the words to ask again and again and again, though. He knew he didn't care about the gals. He didn't... he doesn't like women that way.

It was about Bucky.

It's always been about Bucky.

Or... if it's maybe something that was burned out of Bucky by them? HYDRA. Steve desperately hopes it's not that. He wants the fact that he's fine discussing such private matters because he's always been that way (maybe with a tiny mix of being too old and seasoned to give a shit).

Right now, Bucky and him are perfect opposites.

Bucky is easily getting the words out, asking for some from Steve in exchange. Meanwhile, Steve can't get say a word, no matter how loud and clear Bucky is.

It's not that Steve doesn't want to have this conversation with Bucky. He wants to give Bucky every tool he needs to help aid him in recovery; he wants to be honest with him; he wants to open himself to Bucky like a book so he can read and glean what he needs from him. It's so fucking difficult, though.

Bucky's doctors warn Steve and Bucky both what coming off of the drugs causing his chemical castration will mean. A surge in sex hormones as his body resumes doing what it should, resulting in a, hopeful, return of his libido and physical sexual functioning along with possible hot flashes, racing heart, and a handful of other assorted side effects. A roll of the dice. They won't totally know until they get there.

Chemical castration isn't permanent, usually. But, usually, people aren't chemically castrated for 70 fucking years. Also, usually, the people in question aren't super soldiers. So, there's things working against Bucky and with him.

Bucky's body should bounce back.

Steve closes his eyes for too long to just be a blink, picturing the scars around Bucky's shoulder. Flesh seared to metal. No choice but to adapt.

Bucky's body should bounce back.

"Good as new," one of the medical students working in tandem with the team of doctors had said. Steve thinks that student could use more bedside manner training.

"Steve?"

"Uh--" Steve clears his throat, "yeah. It's..."

"You don't have to."

Steve nods tightly, "I want to. I just." He swallows noisily, he figures he'll just be as honest as he can, "I don't know how to say it," he runs his fingers through his hair, musing it.

Bucky nods back. After a moment he volunteers, "I remember getting them, I just..."

"You just?" Steve prompts, leaning forward to grab his hand and squeeze.

"I don't remember anything else. I got them. Didn't I?" Bucky looks at his wearily.

"You definitely did," Steve's voice is huskier than he intends. He can't help it. A full-body shiver takes over his muscles. He remembers Bucky's erections almost as much as he remembers his own.

Sharing the same tiny, ratty-sheet-covered bed. Bucky pressed up against his back, his breath hot and humid on his neck, an arm thrown around his waist, with his dick regularly hardening in his sleep and pressing even more insistently against his boney ass.

Wrestling on their shitty, creaking wooden floor. Bucky on top of him, laughing brilliantly. Dark hair falling from its careful, swept-up style. Leaning up to kiss him to distract him, the only way he could win. Kissing and kissing until Bucky would melt, groaning, falling onto him, chest to chest, their erections sliding together. Hard. Hot.

Listening to Bucky stumble in drunk and smiling to himself, stifling the expression in the flat pillow under his head, pretending to sleep until Bucky stumbles into their bed. Then, pretending to wake up slowly and prettily as Bucky pawed at him. Sometimes, Bucky'd be hard already. Sometimes, he would get hard deliciously slowly, the alcohol affecting him, making it a challenge. And sometimes he wouldn't get hard if he had too much.

(Steve secretly loved it when he didn't get hard. Soft and vulnerable and perfect for worshipping. Steve would fall to his knees and rub his face against his soft cock and suck and suck until Bucky came without getting hard at all. It still felt good. Steve should know. It's not like his Johnson worked all the time back then, anyway.)

Steve jostles himself from the memories, trying, only half-successfully, to not feel guilty over the fact that he can remember all that with perfect eidetic detail while Bucky can't.

He re-crosses his legs in the other direction.

"Okay," Steve tries to push his energy from memories to words, "okay. It's, like, it... it almost feels like." God, why does he suck so much at this? "Like, it-it's blood rushing into your dick, right?"

Bucky has the gall to roll his eyes.

Steve wants to call him an asshole. And he would if he weren't too busy untangling his words, trying to spit them out no matter how much shame tugs at him. "So it's swollen. It gets hot, too, because, well, your, your blood is hot. Body temperature. Y'know. Whatever. It's... just... swollen and hot and, uh, stiff?"

"It is a stiffy," Bucky says dryly.

Steve dryly laughs, "jerk," he bites his lower lip, clearly that's not enough to satisfy Bucky's curiosity, "you know, so, okay, you know when you finish in the gym and your muscles are just beginning to get sore? Like. It doesn't hurt. But your muscles are tight and pumped and hard because you just used them?"

"I'm familiar." Steve's pretty sure Bucky's being an asshole on purpose now. Just to give him something else to think about. Fucker.

"It's like that," he finishes the thought, "but. It's your dick, not your usual muscles."

"So... does it get sore? Like your muscles?"

"No." Steve answers automatically, then, "it, uh, throbs. Pulses, kinda. I mean, it, it can hurt. If you have it for a long time."

"Right," there's a minute pause. Steve knows without asking that they're both picturing all the goofy pharma ads that're on TV nowadays. Contact your doctor if you have an erection lasting more than 4 hours... "You said it's tight?"

"Yeah. Tight and heavy, too. 'Cause, because it fills with blood. It gets engorged. Swollen."

Bucky nods, but it's clear he wants more.

"Yeah," Steve struggles, his face burning. "Kinda, kinda, like..." he pulls a face just thinking about the way he's about to describe an erection. It's visceral. It makes him want to squirm a little bit. But, it's the only thing he can think of. "If you stuck a balloon under your skin and started to inflate it. It gets tight and hot and stiff as it stretches. And the more the, the, uh, balloon inflates, the more sensitive it gets--"

Bucky makes a considering noise.

"--But then. Then, once you've started, it's hard to stop. It gets fuller, stiffer, and more sensitive. When you touch it, because it's sensitive and tight and you need to do something about it, it gets stiffer and then more sensitive because it's stiffer. So you touch more. Until. Yeah. It's, uh, it's a positive feedback loop."

"Oh."

Suddenly, as happens sometimes, Steve's mouth runs away from him. He's embarrassed, and his brain decides that the only way to fix it is to get all the embarrassing words out. "It throbs. Like. With your pulse. If you get. If you get hard enough, it th-throbs with your pulse. And it feels like it comes from your, like, core. Like. Not just your balls. Inside you."

"Hm?" Bucky interjects, eyebrows drawing together.

"Like, when you get, ah, a-aroused. It comes from your stomach almost. And it goes up your back and down your balls, too. It's, it's not tingling but, more, more like when you really have to pee and you can't help but shiver. A much hot, hotter version of that."

"You-" Bucky's eyebrows come together. "You can't pee when you're erect, right?"

"No, no. It--that does hurt. It kinda burns? If you try to pee with a hard, hard--if you try to pee with an erection. It doesn't work like that."

"No," Bucky agrees softly.

"But it doesn't burn otherwise. It, it when you're really hard, feels like, like you might explode. It gets so tight and, I'm trying to think of anything but hard, but it really just feels hard."

Bucky snorts.

Steve's big mouth keeps motoring, of course, "oh, and, uh, it gets wet." Steve is going to explode, not in the fun my-dick-is-hard way, in the vibrating-with-embarrassment way. Oof.

Bucky just looks intrigued. Not embarrassed.

Dammnit.

"I, I, I don't mean," Steve lowers his voice, "cum."

Bucky laughs at his expense.

"I mean... when you're erect. It can leak. It's just pre-cum. It's not. It's nothing to be worried about. Just so you don't--" he bites the inside of his cheek, "I don't want you to worry."

Bucky tips his head from side to side, considering. "What if I--"

"What if you?"

"What if I let you know when it happens? So you know I'm not worried."

Steve flushes the hottest he has yet. He coughs. "Y-yeah, that'd be, that'd be... good."

I hope that's satisfactory for what you had in mind! I didn't really know how to tackle this prompt, lol.

[lume-nosity]

shattered

even after the times you’ve spent with them, they can’t call you theirs. why?

ft: kazuha, albedo, lumine

style: angst

song inspo: ceilings by lizzy mcalphine

notes: gn!reader, not proofread, abandonment?, dialogue in albedo’s part only, just very sad angst, i went overboard

reblogs are appreciated!

kaedehara kazuha

the time where you and him bask in the night sky as you lay yourselves onto the lush and soft green grass is a memory that would never leave kazuha’s mind.

having to experience the beauty of nature with someone else is a wish he never thought would become a reality. though, he must admit, it is nice to have someone by his side.

that someone being you, he couldn’t ask for someone better.

the way he sees the wind swirl through your body as if you’re some kind of deity is quite the sight to behold.

he likes how the wind practically makes you look 10x more appealing to the human eye. it’s ethereal to him.

but as much as he loves to stay and spend more time with you, you’re well aware that he’s a wandering samurai.

he’s the type to follow wherever the wind takes him. no matter where, he’s always out and about to explore the sights teyvat has to offer. it’s as if ‘wandering’ is in his blood.

if you say you want to follow him, he’s pleased to hear that. but the thought of you getting hurt scares him.

there are areas in teyvat that are dangerous and would rather not want you to go through that for the sake of him.

what he wants is to keep you safe. even if it means distancing or even separating himself from you in order to do that.

the wind will lead him back to you eventually, right?

albedo kreideprinz

you find yourself lazing about in albedo’s lab whenever you’re bored or just want some company. and you happened to be acquainted with the chief alchemist for a while, so you decided to accompany him as you watched him dutifully work on an experiment.

the way you see him so absorbed into what he’s doing is cute in your eyes. his eyes squinting as he focuses on the matter at hand, his careful handwork, his fluffy hair bouncing for every step he takes as he walks to another table to grab something..

at this point, he’s not even trying. you’re drawn to him the more you admire his features, for he is quite a handsome-

you didn’t realize you were admiring albedo in your head for too long because he walked up to you face to face, concerned that you were just standing there not saying anything to him the whole time you were there.

“are you alright? you have been staring at me for quite some time now.”

hearing his voice, (albeit a little hard to hear from you staring at him for too long,) you shook your head vigorously as a look of pure shock was plastered on your face. embarrassment ran through your veins.

“ah.. i’m sorry, albedo. i was only spacing out.”

albedo had a blank expression. he didn’t seem fazed to hear that, but he wasn’t annoyed. he just didn’t know how to properly express that specific ‘feeling.’

“..hm…”

was all he said before turning his attention back to his experiment.

…

you frowned a bit, because you weren’t expecting his answer to be this dry. it’s not even a word, it’s just a sound.

but you knew that’s just how albedo talks. and you also knew he didn't get the hint.

no matter how hard you try to get some sort of reaction out of him, nothing worked.

was the amount of time spent with him all for nothing? did he really enjoy your presence? all of these questions are plaguing your mind the more you think about them.

if only you knew how albedo truly felt about you.

lumine

when you’re by her side, you’ve made many memories together.

the sights, the food, the laughs you shared.

they’re all memorable.

the time you and her went to lantern rite, abolished the vision hunt decree, talked to lots of people along the way.

they’re all nostalgic.

lumine definitely enjoyed having you around, because you’re the first person she had the pleasure of knowing of course.

you two make a great duo. lumine knows that there’s nothing that could stand in her way now that you’re by her side.

however, she has a reason for being in teyvat in the first place.

lumine is trying to fulfill what she’s here for. to finish her journey. so there’s really no stopping her, for she is ambitious.

a little too ambitious.

she’s so focused on finding out the truth of teyvat that you gradually vanish from her mind.

it seems as if lumine has been helping people nonstop to the point her mind shifted into what she’s originally here for.

it’s almost robot-like when you see her stride through the streets as you walk alongside her. it’s like a whole different lumine is with you.

no words were exchanged, only pure silence.

did the memories of you and lumine dissipate from her mind as if they never happened?

the answer is on her face.

based on her expression, it’s like she never met you.

and this only hurts you further into realizing just how committed she is.

an: i feel so guilty and sad for writing this that i wasn’t able to write for a fourth person. i’m sorry guys i’ll see if i can make it up by writing something fluffy soon 🥹 edit: OH YEAH AND THANK YOU TO 🦉🌙 ANON FOR THIS IDEA!!!

[theia-eos]

Hello!

small question about "shadows of the crimean liberation"

in chapter 11 how come Janaff and Ulki didn't recognize Soren as a black dragon branded? I understand for story reasons but you mention specifically that they don't know even after meeting Deghinsea and Kurthnaga in Goldoa so I was wondering if there was another reason too?

Ah, thank you for asking! I do plan to go into it more in other stories, but since it would be from the point of view of characters who don't have the whole picture, I'm happy to provide a top down view.

There a few components to consider.

The first being that Micaiah and Soren recognize that there is something powerful and ancient within each other respectively during Radiant Dawn.

Soren: The Maiden of Dawn… What are you? One of the Branded, that’s for sure. But there is something else about you… Power. Yes, I can feel it in you. You possess great power. Micaiah: Yes, and you would know. There’s something very different about you, too. Your energy feels so…ancient. You and I seem to have so much in common. Radiant Dawn, "Blood Contract," Chapter 3-13

So there is some ancient energy within Soren, this is clear foreshadowing to Soren being descended from the Ancient Black Dragon King himself. Micaiah having some unique great power is a likely reference to her being the apostle and having inherited Lehran's ability to hear the Voice of the Goddess and awaken the goddesses.

The other, and most important, component is that Tibarn, Naesala, Reyson, and Caineghis all go to the meeting with Deghinsea and Kurthnaga, and presumably Ranulf, Janaff, Ulki, and Nealuchi all accompany their kings. Many of them speak to, with, and are around Soren, and none of them notice in the game. This despite Tibarn saying later on in Radiant Dawn that:

Tibarn: That Almedha is a formidable woman. At first I doubted her claim that she was the daughter of that useless old lizard. But even I had trouble holding her down. Me! She’s no ordinary beorc woman, that’s for sure. Elincia: I agree. Lady Almedha and Prince Kurthnaga share a striking resemblance, as well. Not just their faces, but their mannerisms, too. Tibarn: Is that how beorc spot blood relations? We laguz use scent, mainly. Speaking of which, something has been bothering me about Almedha. She has no distinct scent. It’s as if she is neither beorc nor laguz. Elincia: She actually told me something that I wanted to ask you about. She said that she lost her power when she became pregnant with King Pelleas. Radiant Dawn, "Unforgivable Sin," Chapter 4-5

The Extended Scripts expand on it a bit more

[ティバーン] そうか…ベオクは そうやって判断するのか。▼ [エリンシア] ラグズは、どうなさるんですか？▼ [ティバーン] 主に匂いだな。▼ ラグズとベオクは大きく違うし、 ラグズの中でも種に応じて違う。 …俺たちはそうやって個体を見分ける。▼ が、あのアムリタという女は…… どこかおかしい。▼ Radiant Dawn, "Unforgivable Sin," Chapter 4-5

The basic gist being that each type of laguz has its own unique type of scent in addition to the major difference in scent between laguz and beorc. You can read a fan translation by the always lovely amielleon here.

Tibarn also remarks a few sentences later (fan translation, again, provided by amielleon) that "Parentless" have a scent closer to a beorc.

[ティバーン] 黒竜王がベオクと交わったとでも？ それは、天地がひっくりかえっても ありえねえ話だろうぜ。▼ ”親無し”は、むしろ ベオクに近い匂いがするって話だ。 それでもないから…分からん。▼ Radiant Dawn, "Unforgivable Sin," Chapter 4-5

But that clearly means they have elements of both laguz and beorc in their scent, just more beorc than laguz. (This makes it clear why laguz who aren't in the know, like Skrimir or Vika, could mistake a Branded for a beorc, but Tibarn is clearly in the know and can pick up on however small that differentiation is).

And yet no one, not even he-who-spoils-the-Black-Knight-reveal-almost-certainly-based-on-scent-alone Ranulf, notices that Soren is dragon branded, let alone related to Dheginsea or Kurthnaga. Or if they do, they are weirdly and uncharacteristically quiet about it. Which some of them would be quiet (Ranulf is more of a quiet investigator, but even he has moments of cheek "I know what your secret is" [though maybe he's just trying not to upset Soren by keeping quiet]), and others (especially Tibarn) would never be quiet about that tidbit of information ("You'd let your own grandson die by sending us back to the Kauku Caves?" [I love Tibarn, but if he knew, he'd say something for certain when they're in Goldoa in Radiant Dawn, despite the fact that the revelation would kill Soren on the spot(of mortification)]).

So, why does Pelleas have to figure it out? Kurthnaga travels with the Greil Mercenaries in Part 4 and can fight alongside Soren in the Tower, and yet, nothing??? His own nephew is right there, and nothing???

I have nothing, no really good info from the games, so I have to come up with my own answers based on what little we do get.

So back to why can't anyone recognize what Soren's scent is. If the games don't give me the info I want, then I'll make it up.

Well. as Tibarn says, Almedha has no scent that is distinctive of either beorc or laguz. Beorc and laguz have different scents, and the different tribes have their own unique notes as well.

I've decided that the "beorc scent" is of different varities of metals (copper, gold, silver, tin, etc.) and the "laguz scent" is more earthy. Beast tribes being herbal (I reference lions having a basil note later on in that story), bird tribes being more air/water (herons smelling of petrichor, ravens like a storm, etc.), and dragons being stony (black dragons having a subtle clay scent, etc.). Soren mostly gains the metallic scent of beorc, as Tibarn describes, and since laguz have difficulty smelling anything beyond metal scents, the more subtle earthen smell is lost, they just know it's not all beorc if they're more aware than the average laguz.

In addition to that, he has an ancient power from his maternal grandfather within him that Micaiah can sense., and Reyson can also sense to a smaller degree. Maybe it alters Soren's scent a little, maybe not. I'm undecided as of right now.

So Soren just sits there, being a little enigma, because you would have to get up close and personal and smell him to get the obscured notes of his dragon scent, and no laguz is doing that. (Would be funny if the dragon laguz scent notes were stronger in his breath since he's a dragon. Like he just sighs very heavily because of someone annoying him and Ranulf or someone else with a sensitve sense of smell sitting next to him is like "!!!").

And that's why no one can tell he's black dragon for the moment.

[cryptidsurveys]

Thursday, October 24th, 2024.

Do you have any siblings you absolutely despise? Why do you despise them? The simplest answer is "yes." But do I spend every waking moment dwelling on it? No. And is the emotion intense? Aside from a recent uptick due to family drama, not typically. In fact, it's dwindled down to something more akin to apathy with an underlying understanding of why I want nothing to do with them. I've tried to practice empathy and understand what makes them tick (and I can get there to a degree, even if it's only speculation), but it doesn't make things right. I'm not their damn therapist. Ain't nobody paying me to figure their shit out.

How many times a week do you shower? Is this a healthy thing for you? I shower twice on animal shelter days and once, maybe twice, on my "weekends."

Do you like taking random surveys like this? Of course.

How many times a day do you eat a full meal? Is this a healthy thing to you? I eat three meals and two snacks, plus some random bits before bed. The spacing and frequency seem fine, but I probably need to up my calories.

What’s your favorite movie? Why do you like this movie so much? Watership Down, Princess Mononoke, Velvet Goldmine, The Doors film…

What’s your favorite genre of movies? Why is this? I don't really have a favorite genre, but I enjoy horror, fantasy, psychological thrillers, and animated films.

Have you ever looked up at the sky, and thought, Why am I down here? I've marveled at the immensity of everything, and I've wondered why and how anything exists at all, but not always/only while looking at the night sky. It is pretty mind blowing just how many stars I can see when I bother to put on my glasses, though. ("Omg, are those the PLEIADES?!?!" ;D)

What is your hair color? Are you satisfied with the color of your hair? It's brown. I'm satisfied with it for the most part.

Do you talk on the phone very often? Who do you talk to the most? No. I rarely talk on the phone.

Do your parents intimidate the people you date? Are they scary people? Past partners have mentioned being intimidated by my dad, but at least from my perspective, he's not an intentionally intimidating person.

Have you ever watched a horror movie and thought, “What would it be like”? Yeah. Like, would I have the fortitude to face such a situation and get out alive, etc.

Do you think Gale Harold is the cutest man alive? I don't even know who that is. Let me look him up…ah, okay. He's not my type.

Do you hate people who ask questions like “Did you like this survey”? I don't hate it, but it does seem kind of pointless now that most surveys are super old and widely dispersed. The person who created the survey is extremely unlikely to ever see the feedback.

How many times a day do you say I love you? Who to usually? A lot. To my dad and my cats. To my mom when I see/speak to her. To the kitties at the animal shelter.

What’s your favorite color? Why is this your favorite color? Autumn hues. They're warm, cozy, nostalgic, inviting, etc.

Have you ever been told you were thought-provoked? By who? Do you mean "thought-provoking"? I don't think anyone has ever said that specifically, but I have been told that I'm insightful, intelligent, etc.

Do you like Drew Barrymore? Do you like her movies and work? Eh.

Does the sight of blood gross you out? Why is this? Blood alone doesn't bother me. Seeing someone in pain, though…that's what tends to get to me.

What is the most common color of clothes in your closet? Black, dark blue, and shades of gray.

Do you text or no? Who do you usually text anyways? Yeah. I mostly text my mom and dad. I'm part of the cattery group chat now too, but I haven't posted anything yet. I just "react" to texts from others.

Do you think sweaters are only for dorks? Give an example of a dork. No…?

Do you prefer hoodies or jackets? Why do you prefer this choice? Jackets are a nice addition when it's cold out, but when it comes to everyday wear, I prefer hoodies.

Is black your second favorite color & does it really go with anything? It's one of my favorite colors, and yeah, it pretty much does go with anything I would be inclined to wear.

Do you cry really easily? Are you depressed? Not super easily, but…idk. It's kind of random. Sometimes little things get to me when bigger things don't. It also depends on how stressed/exhausted I am. I don't think I'm depressed.

Have you ever babysat before? Did you enjoy this job? Not really. Never as a job. Not unless junior volunteers at the shelter count. They come in for about an hour and a half nearly every Friday. It's nice because they'll do our dishes, wipe down and put away kennels, sweep, etc.

Do you like children, or do you hate them? Why do you like or hate them? They're alright. Sometimes they can be sweet or endearing.

Are your parents still divorced or together? They're legally separated, so not quite divorced but definitely not together.

Have you ever busted a window before? Why did you bust it? Yeah. It was an accident. I was playing baseball with some friends in one of their yards, and we were using rocks for bases. I was throwing them back after we were finished, and one of them crashed through a small basement window.

Do you still get scared watching old horror movies? You watch them alone? I might get a little creeped out depending on the film. I basically never watch any movie alone, though.

Is the sound of Halloween exciting to you? Do you enjoy the holiday? I don't care as much about Halloween DAY as I did when I was younger. It's more about the surrounding atmosphere. The changing leaves, the chilly weather, the fun foods, the spooky vibes…

Does anyone ever call you unique? Do you think you’re unique? Not that I'm aware of, but I do feel somewhat different and strange.

Do random people ever call you and make conversations with you? No.

Do you talk a lot when you’re on the phone? Are you annoying? Not really.

Have you ever contemplated suicide before? Ever attempted it before? Yes to both.

When you think of summer, what is the first thing that comes to mind? Intolerable heat, the smell of dust and pine sap, merciful afternoon thunderstorms, chirping crickets, stifling liquid purple nights… Oh, and praying that the swamp cooler doesn't break at an inopportune time.

Do munchkins/midgets scare you? Why do you think they scare you? No.

Do knives scare you? Is it from watching scary movies? No.

Have you ever tried to sing opera? Did it work out for you or no? Uh, not seriously, lmao.

Do you know anyone named Tawny? I don't.

Can you count to 100,000,000? Have you ever tried before? No. According to Google, "It would take approximately 3.17 years to count to 100 million at a rate of one number per second." And some numbers take longer than a second to say, so…anyway…