#and yet somehow that's just not landing. How Interesting!

[eirenical]

The Spin Maneuver

Mysterious Lotus Casebook | Lian Hua Lou | 莲花楼 | Episode 33 & 34

(I've had this meta percolating in the back of my mind since my second or third rewatch... so it's been a while. XD)

This show doesn't do anything by accident, so I have to believe that putting these two scenes so closely together serves a purpose. In both cases, Li Lianhua comes flying through the air, gets whipped around a person who is acting as a center pole, and then lands, more or less, stably on his feet. That's a very obvious visual parallel. But if you look a bit more closely, these two moments couldn't be more different.

1) Who is controlling the beginning of the spin?

In the first spin, Shan Gudao grabs Li Lianhua's wrist as he's coming out of his Whirling Steps. In the second, it's Li Lianhua who reaches for Fang Duobing, but the moment Fang Duobing sees him, he reaches right back.

vs.

2) In that first spin, Li Lianhua is jerked right off balance; his entire body goes through a whiplash motion as he's pulled into the air, and when he lands, he's at a sharp diagonal, barely able to keep his feet. With Fang Duobing, he goes into that spin at a MUCH sharper angle; he's practically horizontal, but SO IS FANG DUOBING. And yet somehow they both manage to stabilize each other so LLH can deliver that powerhouse kick to the Demon Monk and STILL land lightly on his feet with both of them well balanced enough to attack again if need be.

vs

And you can see in that second shot of Fang Duobing and Li Lianhua that Xiaobao is contorting his body SO HARD to make sure that Li Lianhua is stable enough to deliver that kick (you can see this better in the gif, but oh well XD). He doesn't let go until the kick is over and Li Lianhua has both feet on the ground.

So why put these two scenes with such a distinctive move so close together?

(This is getting long, so behind a cut we go...)

So first, these two so-similar-yet-so-different moves show exactly how different Shan Gudao and Fang Duobing are. This is a show that goes out of its way so many times to show that while blood relation may be important, it doesn't necessarily make you who you are. And that family you make for yourself is at least equally important.

And here we have two people, blood relations, in fact, who have both been so important to Li Lianhua in the course of his life. And one uses this move to attack, to knock off balance, to throw Li Lianhua away from him. The other uses this move like centrifugal force: to pull Li Lianhua closer, to balance them both, to stabilize him when he's flying in faster than he can easily control himself.

And that's so deeply encapsulating of Li Lianhua's relationships with both of them.

Xiaobao grounds Li Lianhua. It takes him a long time to grow into that role, but once he gets there, he's going to hold on with all his might. And I love this as a representation of that. It's Xiaobao saying: "My father didn't have your best interests at heart and he never did. I do, and I always will. Take that leap and I'll catch you every time."

But why on Earth did Li Lianhua choose to do this move with Fang Duobing in the first place? Especially after what just happened with Shan Gudao maybe ten minutes earlier? We've never seen Li Lianhua and Fang Duobing train together. Hell, until maybe 30 minutes before this, Fang Duobing didn't even know Li Lianhua knew any martial arts! So this is not a move they could have trained or developed together. Fang Duobing, on sheer instinct alone, saw what Li Lianhua was trying to do, adjusted his own stance out of FALLING BACKWARDS AT A SHARP ANGLE into being a counterbalance weight that could stabilize them both and maintain the momentum that Li Lianhua needed to deliver that kick. First of all, that was some RIDICULOUSLY FAST mental calculations on Fang Duobing's part. O_O (All that STEM training paying off, I guess? XD) Second of all, even if figured it out that fast, he still had to physically execute the maneuver! So, like... good on you Xiaobao. Hot damn. 😁

So they had no time or reason to train this move, so why on EARTH would Li Lianhua attempt it?

(And this is where I slide off the meta train and into headcanon a bit. Please indulge me. XD)

I wonder if this was a move that Li Lianhua used to perform with Shan Gudao the way he did with Fang Duobing. With Shan Gudao being so much larger than him, especially in the beginning, he'd have been easy to toss around. And with his whirling steps, a move like this would be a natural extension of the rest of his fancy footwork.

So maybe, like telling Li Lianhua about their shifu's death, using this move against him was yet another way to destroy a piece of the life they had together. To rip the rug right out from under Li Lianhua's feet. And MAYBE Li Lianhua using it so shortly thereafter with Shan Gudao's son, knowing Shan Gudao would have known that they'd never trained that move... would have been a way to take that piece back. Like saying: "You see this thing that was ours? You can't take it away from me because I've already given it to someone else. To your SON."

And I just love the thought of that. ^_^

[minorfamilysupremacy]

it is insane to watch bible's actions nowadays. i will say, even back in kp era, there were one or two things he said that made him deeply unlikable to me, but like most i just ignored it. but holy hell has the facade dropped. the only thing he is now is a professional victim and you can tell he is SO pissed that his little show failed. these interviews or rather fluff pieces are just for bible to be sad on camera because it's the only way to stay relevant and ensure his fans continue to attack and blame build for everything, because despite it all, his fans couldn't be arsed to watch his show so this is all he has left. they will continue to beat the dead horse of "it was a thing that happened between two people", because anything else would mean they had to admit they chose the side of the woman who was sentenced to prison. oh and btw bible, weird how you never faced any repercussions for your social media posts about underage girls, rape, and transphobia... sure has its benefits being close to ponf hasn't it. god I hope karma comes for all of these people.

yeah, as an ex-stan i know i personally handwaved away a lot of stupid shit as his being young and having been catapulted into overnight fame and blah blah blah, but no. we got played for fools. dude's a piece of shit through and through and it's honestly kind of horrifying to watch. like, really, dude? pond is the fading star you want to hitch your wagon to? i'm just embarrassed watching him make a bigger and bigger ass of himself in every interview. it's always someone else's fault, he's always the victim, bloo bloo, crocodile tears (even more embarrassing since a lot of these interview questions are sent in advance so he can practice his fake waterworks).

and i think in his warped little mind, it IS build's fault that 4m is such a shitshow, or at least he's firmly convinced himself as such, because he and pond are glued at the asshole now and he can't let himself go against the party line. i've always thought sammon deliberately turned in a subpar product -- after all, did BOC ever say boo about the plagiarism accusations? because i sure don't remember it. and poi was punching way above her weight class by dragging in a much more respected writer when she was just trying to have a petty grudge match against her ex. i lost respect for sammon in the entire debacle for other reasons (i draw a hard line with animal violence, and the very vague details i know make it just sound gratuitous and lazy writing), but i was shocked she even stuck around to give them SOME kind of script. pond must have the best lawyers in thailand when he draws those contracts up.

but 4m was a shitshow not because of build, but because of poi and, more importantly, because of pond. pond sat back and dithered about which nong (gag, dude) he could wring more coins out of and tried, unsuccessfully, to play both sides like the loathsome little quisling he is. he did fuck-all to protect his talent and then he gambled on the 4m name still having enough appeal to gawkers to be successful, when anyone with two brain cells to rub together could have told you the project should have been scrapped with a quickness. (besides, if the version of the show we ultimately got bore ANY resemblance to its original vision, i sincerely question what was so tear-jerking about it. but i have a feeling what it was originally envisioned as is a far cry from the steaming pile we got.) the fact that they couldn't get anyone to pair with bible for ages is yet another red flag pond ignored, because god forbid he admit to any fuckups, and the coping about how jes is actually So Much Better and Lovely and Wonderful and their chemistry is So Incredible is...well, it's fucking pathetic. it's clowns all the way down.

and pond further bears responsibility for that fuckup of a 'rollout' of the show. how many countries did it get aired in, officially? seven? eight? half of those were places where explicit gay sex (which, as near as i can tell, is a good portion of the show to make up for the limp writing) is banned. european and american fans got entirely shut out from official support. i suppose that's probably because when build was in berlin, he personally spoke with the german government and explained that they needed not to air this particular show as an act of revenge, right?

but bible is never going to fucking look at the dumpster fire his life and career have become and lay the blame where it belongs, because he and pond are in this creepy symbiotic relationship where pond pimps him out to keep the business going -- seriously, jeff fucked off ages ago and mile is MIA with schrodinger's girlfriend, so they have no major talent outside bible to rely on -- and in return, bible gets shielded from repercussions outside of some well-deserved social media jeering. and both of them constantly pat each other's asses and soothe each other's egos and keep each other from any kind of introspection.

bottom line is, pond thought build was expendable at the time, because he was rolling in so much KP goodwill he thought the gravy train would never stop. turns out build wasn't expendable, so now pond's gotta choke the life out of the other half of the pairing to make sure he doesn't give up the grift (his constant european vacations don't pay for themselves, do they?), and that other half is more than content to play his simple-minded lackey because it's easier than having to fucking put a modicum of effort into anything.

karma will get them -- of that i have no doubt. there's too many rumblings of discontent, too many oldheads who have turned anti, not enough new people to stem the hemorrhage. man suang, for all pond's windbaggery, sank without a trace. THC is more notable for its controversy and rigging than anything else. DFF and 4m both couldn't sustain themselves through their entire runtimes and even people with no axe to grind with BOC were critical about the latter. they keep scrabbling for relevance in idiotic ways -- a sitcom with bible? a sitcom?! with what fucking comedic timing? -- or are late to the party -- they're supposedly planning a GL, which, by the time it gets to market, will just be one of many. gap was a while ago. GL isn't as much of a novelty as it was. and i mean, let's face it: do you trust this fucking studio with GL? i wouldn't trust pond to take out my trash without ripping the bag open, spilling it everywhere, and then making childish vague references about how SOMEONE he used to know paid off the hefty bag company to make his (pond's) life harder.

pond's all ego, greed, and stupidity. he'll trip over his dick (well, harder than he has already) soon enough. i personally can't wait to see it happen.

[lexcys]

★ observing rafe cameron x reader

summary: you were trying everything to hide the fact that you couldn’t stop staring at rafe, unbeknownst to you - he was secretly hoping you were

a/n: this is a surfer!rafe x shy!reader btw!! also this is like pretty much my first ever fanfic so I have no idea what the fuck I am doing so sorry if this is literal ass 😭 no mention of a fem!reader besides the fact that the womans bathroom gets entered

you felt the heat of the sun on your skin as you stepped out of the twinkie. the soft crash of the distant waves barely audible over the hum of the pogues voices

stepping onto the beach, a surge of excitement hits you. the day you and the pogues have been counting down to all week has finally arrived

you take one final glance into your bag, double-checking for anything you might have forgotten—sunscreen, snacks, a book, and a few other trinkets, satisfied you make your way over to your usual spot ready to take off your tshirt and shorts which hid your swim wear underneath, until you spotted someone out of the corner of your eye

rafe cameron

somehow the kooks had managed to pick the exact same date, place and time to visit the beach as you and your friends

while the others were hastly running towards the water stripping on the way down, paying no attention to the kooks, kie stayed back waiting for you

she was already in her bikini while your clothes weren’t even close to leaving your body and landing on the ground

''you coming?'' she asked, hand on her forehead shielding her from the burning sun

''umm'', taking a quick glance around you searched the beach in a, hopefully, unsuspicious way trying to locate rafe again

glancing down you turned your gaze elsewhere, you hoped the sudden heat entering your body was from the sun and not from the sight of rafe taking his shirt off

''I’ll join you guys later, I’m a little dizzy right now'', you spoke swiftly looking up at her, hoping to not get caught in the little white lie

all though kie nodded, the flicker of confusion in her eyes and a quick look behind you told you all you needed to know

you had never verbally stated your attraction to the him but you were pretty sure almost anybody could’ve guessed with the way you tensed up or seemed quieter and clumsier whenever he was in close proximity

taking off your top and shorts you shot a look over to the pogues who were already splashing and practically drowning each other. you giggled while settling down onto your beach towel before applying sunscreen and laying down on your stomach with a book in hand

even though your book was very interesting, the sight in front of you was much more enticing

rafe was currently riding a pretty common wave, yet you found yourself unable to stop staring

you adjusted your book hoping to hide the fact that you were practically ogling at the cameron boy

he was far enough out that you couldn’t make out the details but you still caught the way his hair stuck to his face, the way his body twisted with the rythm of the wave and the way he… kept turning his head towards you?

it seemed like he was looking for you, looking to see if you were watching him

cheeks burning, you try to push your delusions aside trying to find the passage you were reading earlier

you take another peek at him and by the the time you do, he was already out of the water, walking towards his friends with the biggest fucking grin, beaming with pride and confidence, already seeming to rave about the wave he just rode

hearing jj’s laugh you swiftly adjust and pretend to be reading your book that was definitely more interesting than staring at rafe’s wet body and stupid grin

while jj kept whining about how john b, supposedly, almost drowned him they both settled down on your left, luckily on the side where the kooks were lounging

fortunately he also kept talking which meant you were able to peep right past his face and steal short glances towards rafe

it was almost impossible for you to keep your eyes off of him. it didn’t matter where you would see him, you were always stealing glances or simply staring at him from a distance. others could call this stalking but you liked to call it observing, you liked watching him, but not in a creepy way, more so you were admiring him, he was pretty

you liked his side profile, the way his bangs framed his face, the way his eyes looked in the sun, the way his shirts hung onto his fit body - you noticed the way he was very articulate with his hands, which were always adorned with the same two rings, the way the corner of his lips turned downwards whenever he tried not to smile

noticing him facing you, eyeing your group, the staring quickly stopped

at this point the distance between the two groups was too small for your liking because of course the kooks had to settle down as closely as possible to the pogues - it was somehow impossible for them to keep their distance

given the short distance, whenever you actually were brave enough to look again it seemed like he was meeting your gaze, trying to maintain eye contact

heart beating way too fast and cheeks burning, you turn away from jj trying to initiate a conversation with sarah, who was sitting on your right

after a while of, luckily, managing to keep your head from spinning towards him, to meet his gaze - aside from the occasional looks to jj or john b whenever they were contributing to the conversation - you were desperate to get up, to empty your bladder

you dreaded getting up, fully aware that the beach bar was situated just behind the kooks, it meant walking past rafe and the mere thought of that unnerved you - every step would make you acutely aware of your surroundings, mind racing, until the very thought of moving felt like it might turn your legs into jelly

examining the scene quickly you notice half of the kooks gone, including rafe, they must’ve left when you weren’t looking - you feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders while also immediately feeling a certain misery overtaking you

this unrequited crush was spiraling out of control

strutting over to the bar you take notice of ruthie with another girl sitting at one of the tables and kelce talking to the bartender seeming to be cracking jokes instead of ordering

walking past them you try to keep your gaze relatively low to avoid any sort of interaction. turning into the small hallway of the bar you exhale a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding

the calmness doesn’t last long because as you round the corner to reach the toilets you spot him, standing in front of the mens bathroom, phone in hand and looking quite bored

before you get the chance to look away he lifts his head and notices you, he smiles - you smile back, a very awkward smile

relatively quickly you turn your head away and enter the women’s bathroom. your head becoming a blur, suddenly already washing your hands ready to leave the bathroom

he must’ve left already, right?

''topper are you fucking coming, man?!'', you catch rafe through the door

your plan of immediately leaving and paying him no mind, began to falter two seconds after stepping out of the bathroom

''hey, y/n'', you hear from behind you, shit

you freeze up for a second, caught off guard, before composing yourself and turning around

immediately drawn to him, you couldn’t help but notice the way his hair had dried in quite a messy way, his slightly squinted eyes and the slight smirk splayed across his face

''how are you?'' he questions before you had the chance to greet him back

''I’m doing fine'', you manage to exclaim, nearly tripping over your words before adding the usual ''and you?''

you dig in your mind trying to recall the last time you’d exchanged words beyond the usual "hi" or "hey''

''ditto'',

apparently not completely satisified with your answer, he regards you for a moment, the stare causing a warmth to creep up your neck as you shifted uneasily

''why did your friends leave you all alone over there?'', rafe inquired with a raised brow - a hint of curiosity in his tone, ''they seemed to be enjoying themeselves''

letting out a soft exhale you answer him, attempting to maintain eye contact but faltering almost immediately, ''I wasn’t feeling so good'' was all you manage to muster before adding the word, ''dizzy'' in a rather whispered voice, as you lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t see through it

if he did, he didn’t let on ''are you feeling better now?’'

you nod quickly, meeting his gaze

looking up at him with those almost innocent eyes, he can’t help but offer, ''are you sure? I can get you a glass of water'', an unrecognisable sweetness laced his voice, softening his usual edge

taken aback by his unexpected offer you hesitate before denying his offer by simply shaking your head

he let out a quiet snort, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched you struggle to give a simple answer

''what book were you reading?'', he asked, his smirk widening as he leaned further back into the wall, clearly amused at the way the conversation was turning into a playful interrogation, as if he found some strange satisfaction in making you squirm just a little bit

you froze, your mind going blank, searching for the title before realising you genuinely couldn’t remember, maybe because you weren’t actually reading the book

like a savior, topper emerged from the bathroom, a flicker of confusion passing across his face as he scanned the scene before moving past you both, muttering a quiet "let’s go," clearly directed at rafe

for a split second, it looked like frustration crossed rafe’s face, fleeting before you could overthink it, flashing you a smile he pushed himself off the wall and made his way past you

but before he completely disappeared out of view, he turned back with a smirk and called over his shoulder,

''hope you enjoyed the show earlier''

oh

[riddleshire]

𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in which you and mattheo were constantly at each other's throats, and this time was no different. WORDS. +6.1K, english is not my first language.

WARNINGS. ‘whipped’ mattheo (he’s obsessed), porn w// plot, reader and mattheo are both 18, making out, smoking , alcohol (mentions), hair pulling, oral sex!f receiving, marking, face sitting, nipple sucking, biting, dirty talk, blood kink.

masterlist

The loud music spread through the dungeon corridors, pulsing like a frantic heartbeat and bouncing off the stone walls of the grand common room of the serpent house. It caught the attention of passersby, drawing curious glances, as if the noise were an invitation to peek in and see what was happening—or to get involved in whatever was going on behind the closed door.

Inside the room, the dark green lights pulsed to the beat of the music, almost as if they were dancing along. Lighting up the faces of the students who looked like they’d already had a bit too much to drink, escaping from their dorms in search of some much-needed fun after a long semester.

In the shadows at the back of the loud room, Mattheo stayed leaned against the cold wall, with a cigarette dancing on his fingers with an enviable ease. His expression appeared relaxed, yet the messy curls still damp from the shower after a brutal Quidditch practice told a different story about his calm facade.

Though he would never admit just how tough the practice had been.

Beside him, Enzo and Theodore were bickering as usual, this time over the recent Potions exam that had been harder than they expected, making their voices louder. Yet their discussion faded into the background of Mattheo’s mind, barely registering in his ears, and he was certain they didn’t even notice his indifferent demeanor towards the childish conversation. His gaze drifted across the room, almost desperate to find something—or someone—to shatter the monotony that had settled over his life in the past few days.

From his spot, he could see drunk students nearly collapsing to the floor—acting like animals, he could swear—others laughing loudly, moving their bodies to the beat of the music, too entertained to notice anything else around them, and couples craving each other’s touch as if they didn’t care about their surroundings. Yet his gaze remained devoid of emotion; nothing stood out—nothing that could break the heavy boredom clinging to him like a second skin.

Taking another look around the room, Mattheo couldn’t help but scoff at his ridiculous state. He felt almost pathetic, surrounded by the chaos he usually appreciated, yet weary of being caught in the middle of it. Everything felt so common and dull that he figured the only adrenaline he might get would come from being lucky enough to vomit the alcohol swirling in his system. He chuckled dryly at the thought, taking a slow drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke curl lazily around his lips before releasing it into the air, watching it dissipate in the dim light around him.

Somehow, that was far more interesting than the party itself.

He leaned back against the wall, a small, irritated sigh escaping his lips as the weight of boredom settled heavily on his shoulders like a coat. His eyes landed on Berkshire and Nott, still bickering with each other—this time about Quidditch—their voices growing sharper by the second. Once again, his attention drifted away, their words fading into a dull roar in the background as he tuned out completely.

His eyes scanned the room once more, this time more attentively. Just as he was about to release one of the last tendrils of smoke from his cigarette, his gaze locked onto the door swinging open again, revealing a sight he hadn't expected at all—you. Stepping out from the shadows of the entrance, you looked around with a blend of curiosity and caution. In that instant, he could swear that everything around him seemed to slow—the music faded, the crowd blurred, as if the entire room were paying reverence to your presence.

Mattheo shook his head quickly, cringing at what his mind—and maybe even his heart—wanted to say. Curiosity sparked in his gaze as he looked up, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers, completely caught up in your presence. You definitely weren’t the type for gatherings like this; “party material” was the last thing he’d call you—quite the opposite. Yet there you were, looking as out of place as you were striking, like a prey wandering into 'enemy' territory. A playful smirk appeared on his face as the boredom began to lift from his shoulders.

There it was—the distraction he needed to keep him on his feet.

His smirk deepened as he watched you weave through the crowded party, letting his gaze drop to your thighs for a moment longer than he should. If anyone had been watching, they might have thought Mattheo’s gaze darkened with something far from innocent, and in fact it did. Glancing back at his friends, he checked for any sign they’d noticed his interest in you—but luckily, they were still too absorbed in their heated discussion, now with Blaise joining in. A glimmer of relief crept over him.

As you moved carefully through the crowd, he pushed himself off the wall, almost instinctively flicking the last embers from his cigarette before tossing it aside without a second thought and striding toward the crowd. His gaze never wavered, following you with an unbothered intensity, watching you like a hawk. He stopped in the middle of the room, surrounded by the drunken bodies, waiting for the moment you’d feel his eyes on you—only then would he make a move. 

Maybe this was just another game for him, but if he was being honest, he didn’t care. He thrived on getting under your skin, relishing the power to rip apart the perfect image you projected to everyone. You were too polite, too nice, too good—yet with him, you turned cruel, acidic, and downright mean. He loved it. The fact that he could be the one to destroy you and expose the flaws beneath that polished exterior was intoxicating.

Loving your good side was easy, but he was the only one who craved your darker nature, despising your sweetness with a intensity that almost consumed his soul. 

It was no surprise to anyone that you and Mattheo were always at each other’s throats. Since your first year at school, every interaction was filled with cold words and insults, your clashing personalities entertaining everyone around you.

But only Mattheo knew the truth: you were almost a reflection of his own twisted nature, and every stolen kiss only deepened his conviction. Maybe that was why his relentless, penetrating gaze tracked your every move, waiting for the faintest flicker of recognition, longing for the moment you'd finally break and turn to him.

As you continued moving through the room, a familiar shiver ran up your spine, and you gripped your wrists tightly, muttering under your breath—you knew exactly whose gaze was piercing enough to unsettle you like this. Riddle. Turning around, your eyes locked onto his, and when he noticed the angry look on your face, his cruel smirk widened, as if your discomfort amused him. He gave you a mocking wave; his gaze remained fixed on you, heavy and almost suffocating, daring you to get closer to him to show just how much he could get under your skin.

For a moment, you felt trapped by his intensity, the chaos around you fading into the background as his gaze bore into you like teeth. But when you noticed the way he lifted his eyebrows in mockery, you quickly regained your composure, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks.

Looking away, you steeled yourself, refusing to fall for his game like you always did.

But unlucky—or lucky—for you, Mattheo noticed your reaction, and your defiance only seemed to excite him more. He moved toward you slowly, each step amplifying your discomfort, and when he finally loomed close enough, the air thickened between you, heavy with a fervor capable enough to put you down. It was an overwhelming feeling that made your heart race like crazy, and you could see he was enjoying the way you would react to him.

“Lost, are we?” he asked not really waiting for a response, his gaze fixed on you with a knowing predatory glare that sent a shiver down your spine. His low voice dripped with mockery, and despite your desperate attempt to remain composed, every part of you wanted to break before him. Your heart raced wildly, and you wondered if you were on the edge of a heart attack.

You narrowed your eyebrows, your eyes filled with a hint of disgust as you finally faced Mattheo completely. His smirk only grew wider, but you raised your chin with every ounce of defiance you could muster in that moment. “Lost? Hardly,” you replied sharply, your gaze assessing him with disgust.

As you continued to stare at him, a memory of his clumsy fumbling during Quidditch practice flashed in your mind, causing a disdainful chuckle to escape your lips. You could see the way that mockery threw him, noticing that he was likely the cause behind that nearly insufferable mockery.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” He spat through clenched teeth, his anger barely contained, which only made your grin widen and his scowl deepen. He should have been the one to rile you up, not the other way around.

“Nothing much,” you hum, the false sweetness dripping from your words. He glared at you, clearly itching to hurl an insult, but he held back, aware that you were just getting started. “Just about how you humiliated yourself tripping over your massive ego during today’s practice,” you said, savoring the way his expression soured. “Honestly, it was the highlight of my day.” You teased.

Mattheo’s expression darkened as he let out a dry chuckle, forcing himself to meet your gaze. How he wished you weren’t so beautiful; he hated the way your presence twisted in his gut, making him crave what he knew he shouldn’t. Yet there you were, effortlessly making him feel less of the person he was.

Your beauty almost consuming his whole.

“Maybe if you spent less time criticizing me and more time focusing on yourself...” he began, his voice dripping with bitterness yet with mocking amusement, making you frown. “You wouldn’t be so fucking bitter.” He shot back, taking an unconscious step closer, invading more your space. The fever radiating from his body was almost intoxicating, and you fought the urge to step back.

Swallowing hard, you raised your chin even more, your eyes locking onto his almost hypnotic brown orbs. You couldn’t deny the idiot was handsome, and it was obvious that he was aware of his own beauty, appreciating the effect it had on you as he used it to overpower you, pushing the boundaries of your composure. 

“Bitter?” You forced a laugh, attempting to sound unaffected by his words, even though the truth was that Mattheo’s proximity was rattling you to your core. “I just enjoy your suffering. Watching you nearly fall from your broom was... truly entertaining.” You grinned, convinced you’d won the argument, but when his smirk returned, you realized you were the one being toyed with.

“Oh, really?” he began, a smug grin spreading across his face as he caught sight of your flustered expression. “So, not only were you watching my practice, but you were watching me, too.” He drawled, clearly savoring every moment as he enjoyed your discomfort. “Couldn’t resist, could you?” he taunted, blinking slowly in mockery, fully aware of the pull he had over you.

The boredom was definitely gone at this point.

Unlike Mattheo, you blinked rapidly, his words almost suffocating your brain, heat flooding your cheeks as you realized how easily you had exposed yourself. It was infuriating how much he observed the information you unwittingly gave him, and the more he had, the more he used it to make you nervous.

“As if I’d waste my time watching your stupid ass flounder around on a broom like a fucking idiot.” You scoffed, refusing to let your guard down, even if the proof of the embarrassment burned on your cheeks. “You’re not that interesting, Riddle.” You shot back with venom, but his smirk only widened, augmenting your irritation.

You were getting mad, and he loved it. Watching you unravel gave him satisfaction, you were finally losing your composure, almost revealing the side he was eager to see again.

“I’m not that interesting?” Mattheo drawled mockingly, his lips twisting into a fake pout that almost made you cringe. “Yet here you are, practically begging for my attention. Quite the contradiction, isn’t it?” He hummed, amused.

He was infuriating.

You looked at him, almost incredulous, torn between his audacity and his stupidity. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you hissed, but he remained unfazed, clearly enjoying the negative attention you were throwing at him. “You’re the one who came to ‘talk’ to me, so get a grip,” you shot back, and for a brief moment, his smile almost faltered.

Mattheo’s gaze dragged over you slowly, every detail taken in with a lazy, shameless boldness that refused to let you feel any sense of power. The smirk was back, curling at the edge of his mouth as though your insult had already slipped his mind. With another step forward, he closed the space between you, close enough for you to catch the sharp edge of his cologne mixed with the lingering scent of the cigarette he was smoking before.

“You talk big for someone who’s practically shaking in my presence,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerously soft, each word daring you to react. “Maybe you should get a grip, princess.” You nearly cringed at the nickname, but his words hit, and though you’d never admit it, a part of you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Mattheo's presence was suffocating, so suffocating; each step he took left you feeling like a part of your logic had slipped away. You hated it, you hated how each encounter left you feeling a part of yourself was missing. Yet, no matter how many times this twisted game played out, you found yourself drawn back, absorbed by the chaos he ignited in you.

But you weren’t the only one unraveling—Mattheo was drowning too, trapped in the same game, and the only thing that changed was the reason behind it.

If your chin wasn't raised enough, you would have lifted it one more time, but unfortunately, you couldn't; instead, you had to cling to the last shred of self-respect you had. “Shaking?” you scoffed, your voice dripping with sarcasm, though he could easily detect the tremor beneath it. “Trust me, if my body's shaking, it's only because I'm holding myself back from shoving you off this wall and breaking your damn nose.” You hissed, taking another step closer to him, forcing him to suppress a satisfied sigh at your defiance.

Yet Mattheo didn’t hold back his smirk; it only widened further, with a subtle glint of satisfaction appearing in his eyes. If you had the courage to look closer, you might have noticed it. But his proximity left you oblivious to anything else—your attention was fixed only on how close his body was to yours, how his face lingered near yours without closing the distance.

It was torture.

“Is that right?” he asked, taunt dripping from his tone as his eyebrow arched, his gaze bearing down on you. Maybe he wanted you to feel less of yourself, or maybe he was just savoring the way your body reacted to him—either way, his eyes held a single intent: make you feel small. “For someone so eager to break my nose, you seem to love getting close enough to do it,” he taunted.

Your stomach twisted; he wasn’t just hungry for your skin—he was tearing at it, and you couldn’t help but feel infuriated. You hated being played with, especially by him. But Mattheo? He was enjoying this moment, enjoying how you kept his boredom at bay.

The way you were practically forced to look at him, how his body towered over you, and how you constantly challenged him—it thrilled him. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the hotness radiating off his body. It was maddening how he turned every interaction into a twisted game, and worse, how you always fell for it.

He was the only one who could ruin your good image, and you hated it. You hated that you found it exciting, and you despised how he made you crave these sick competitions for power more and more. You wanted to hurt him so badly that it almost burned your insides.

“I just want a clear shot,” you hissed, clutching what little dignity you had left. But Mattheo didn’t seem affected at all; in fact, he was just waiting for the chance to turn the tables once more. “So don’t flatter yourself, idiot.” He lowered his head slightly, challenging you, it seemed.

Mattheo chuckled dryly, and you felt his breath even closer to your face than before. “Funny, I don’t see you making a move,” he remarked, his gaze fixed on your clenched fists, satisfaction evident as he noticed how tightly you were gripping them. “Maybe you’re not as angry as you want me to think,” he whispered provocatively, his tongue sliding over his own lips as he did so.

You wanted to punch him; you wanted to see him lose so badly, and he could see it. He could see your facade falling, and he was eager to expose your darker side—the side that could put him in his place with just a word. He just needed one more push, one more slip, and he knew he could get it out of you.

He was almost there. Almost.

You closed your eyes for a moment, desperately trying to ignore the rapid beat of your heart, feeling as if you were teetering on the edge of a heart attack. Still, you managed to respond. “Or maybe I’m just debating which would be more satisfying—breaking your nose or shattering your ego.” You practically spat the words, logic having abandoned your body two minutes ago. You felt heavy, so heavy.

You just didn’t know that Mattheo’s heart was beating in sync with yours. Apreciating your unlogical comportment and the way his mind was getting a bit of logic because of you, because he knew, he knew that he wanted you, he knew that he needed to break you. He knew he could put him on lines, but him? He took pleasure in keeping you off balance, and he knew that you both craved the same thing; you just lacked the guts to admit it.

Unlucky for you, he was more than ready to push you to do it.

Mattheo lowered his head until his lips were barely a whisper away from yours, his breath warm and steady against your skin. For a fleeting second, you were almost thankful for the boldness that kept your chin raised. “Go on, try,” he murmured, his voice a dare that left your legs feeling dangerously uneven. “You’re welcome to try either.”

A flash of hesitation crossed your mind, but his gaze trapped you, daring you to make a move. The air between you felt stifling, the noise around you melting away under the weight of his words, and the tension sparkling between both of you. Your pulse pounded as his face lingered close to yours, his mouth barely an inch away, eyes flickering to your lips—close enough to make every nerve burn.

You could feel control slipping right through your fingers.

“What’s the matter?” He whispered, his voice low, rough with mockery, that insufferable smirk deepening in a way that practically begged you to knock it off his face. “Losing your nerve?”

And then you lost it—you lost it completely.

You didn’t answer him with words. Instead, your hands shot up to his neck, and you crashed your lips against his, pouring all your anger and frustration into the kiss. It was fierce, almost desperate, and somehow, it felt painfully right. Mattheo responded instantly, not even a little surprised, just the dark satisfaction of someone who’d been waiting for this.

He chuckled against your mouth, triumphant; you were exactly where he’d wanted you all along.

You could feel the way Mattheo's grip tightened, pulling you flush against him, his chest pressing into yours as the kiss deepened into something raw and almost primal. His hand held you firmly in place, no room to pull away, letting your tongue clash with his in a battle for dominance neither of you wanted to lose. It was pure hunger, teeth and tongues colliding, each of you refusing to back down.

Your bodies pressed together, as if you and him were desperate to merge into one, the intensity between you both fueling an insatiable hunger. It wasn't enough—nothing could satisfy the craving consuming both of you. You needed more, and so did he. Without a second thought, you sank your teeth into his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste flooded both of your mouths, sending a primal thrill through you both that made you gasp and moan with the flavor.

It was maddening.

Maybe that's why Mattheo craved kissing you and touching you—because it felt like suffocation, like drowning as your tongue slipped into his mouth, stealing the very air from his lungs. And he needed it more than he cared to admit. Mattheo loved how you made him lose and gain control at the same time, how you made him forget himself completely.

His life could be boring, even wild most of the times, but nothing made him feel more alive than when you were tearing him apart, lips and bodies pressed together, suffocating him with your poison in a way he could never resist—as if he were addicted to the pain of being ruined by you.

Mattheo couldn't take it anymore and kissed you again as the first one broke, his body pressing even harder against yours, your hips grinding against him, making him groan into your mouth.

The blood from the first bite only intensified his need for you, pushing him to the edge where he had to sink his teeth into your lower lip as well, taking another moan from you. He longed for the metallic tang lingering on your lips, desperate to mix with his as your tongues clashed again and again with an intensity that left both of you eager for more.

You wanted more; he needed to give him more.

You and Mattheo seemed oblivious to the fact that you were still at the party, too consumed by each other's lips and bodies to notice the pounding music or the crowded room around you, and compared to anyone else here, the two of you were on another level. After a few moments, Mattheo broke the kiss, lowering his mouth to your neck, biting and sucking at your skin with such hunger that you couldn't be sure who was enjoying it more.

“You smell so good, so damn good,” he whispered like a prayer against your skin, his tongue tracing over the mark he'd just left, almost like he was savoring it. His words jolted you, snapping you back to your senses as you glanced around, suddenly aware that you weren't alone. Reluctantly, you pushed his head back, biting back a groan as you felt the ache of stopping.

“Why did you push me?” Mattheo asked, his lips swollen and tempting like yours, and unlike you, he couldn't suppress the groan that escaped at the loss of contact. His hungry gaze locked onto yours. "Do you want to stop?" he asked, clearly waiting for you to say no.

“Not here.” You managed to say. “Let’s go to somewhere private.” You said quickly, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

Mattheo’s smirk widened with those words, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he seized your hand without warning, dragging you toward the dorms. You let out a soft, surprised whimper, but he didn’t pause, continuing walking and ignoring the stunned—and amused—looks from his friends. He barely glanced back, his grip firm and unyielding, as if nothing in the room mattered except getting you alone.

Neither of you noticed the dim hallways as you hurried along, too consumed by the need to be alone together. Neither of you registered when the music faded into the background or when his door creaked open and shut behind you. And neither of you realized when the clothes that once covered your bodies ended up scattered across the floor, tangled together just like the two of you.

You were both too lost in ecstasy.

Mattheo's hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch with excitement that was visible from miles away. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, leaving marks with each squeeze, and if you didn't know him, you might've thought it was unintentional. But the smirk pressed against your skin proved he knew exactly what he was doing—a knowledge that made you moan, and made him grip your ass even harder.

“I could bite you for hours, taste you for hours,” he purred against your skin, his nose brushing against you with a softness that contrasted sharply with his mouth, which was focused on marking your neck fiercely.

His teeth sank into your flesh, drawing blood as he savored the metallic taste, and each lick sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, blurring the lines between pain and ecstasy. “Your skin is so damn soft,” he murmured, the obsession in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Mattheo squeezed your ass a little harder before pulling his hand away, leaving you moaning at the loss of contact and shooting him an angry glare. “What's wrong, love?” he smirked, his voice dripping with mockery as his lips stained a deep red from the blood you two had shared during the kiss and the blood he was still taking from you, curled into a cruel grin against your skin.

“You know what's wrong, don't stop touching me!” you snapped, frustration lacing your voice. The moment the words left your mouth, you let out a breathy moan as he clamped his teeth onto your skin again, this time a little harder in response to your defiant tone.

He chuckled slightly. “Don't be so fucking impatient, love.” He pressed soft kisses against your skin, purring against it. “I will touch you again...” he teased, and before you could respond, his hand possessively cupped your breast, a low moan escaping him as your hardened nipple pressed into his palm. You let out a satisfied sigh, your lips parting slightly, and Mattheo couldn't resist; almost instinctively, he pulled you in for another heated kiss.

As soon as his mouth met yours, you couldn't help but reciprocate his fervor with equal intensity. Mattheo squeezed your chest a little harder, forcing you to part your lips, and he wasted no time plunging his tongue into your mouth, flooding you with the metallic taste of blood that was almost tattooed on his tongue.

The sloppy and open mouthed kisses were enough to send shivers down both your bodies, and you were sure you had never been more wet than you were in that moment.

“Look at you.” Mattheo murmured as he broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your chin while guiding you to one of the beds in the dorm, his hands never leaving your chest, and his mouth staying on your skin, moving lower and lower. “You're just all talk, aren't you?” he purred, sitting down on the bed and pulling you onto his lap, your legs straddling him, as his lips moved down, almost grazing your hardened left nipple.

You flushed almost violently, but before you could respond, his mouth was on your breast, tongue flicking and teasing your nipple as he sucked, drawing a shiver from you that only widened his grin. His gaze fixated on the marks and faint traces of blood on your neck, an look of satisfaction in his eyes as his tongue continued its relentless, obscene play on your skin, savoring every reaction he wrung from you.

The bastard knew exactly how to use his tongue, and you could already feel yourself losing control.

One of his hands was now tangled softly in your hair, while the other still cupped your chest with a possessiveness that only Mattheo could make feel strangely delicate. It was a balance that would seem odd to anyone else—but not to him. His version of delicacy always came paired with roughness, and as much as you hated to admit it, you loved every bit of it.

"Are you ready to admit that you're just talking?" He murmured, his mouth still toying with your breast as you looked down at him, locked in a mix of pleasure and anger.

“Go to hell, Riddle,” you spat, anger lacing your words, only to moan as his teeth sank into your nipple.

“Oh, love, I'm already in hell.” He suckled your hardened nipple, lingering on the sensitive flesh before pulling away, his hand that had been tangled in your hair sliding down to your neck, giving it a teasing squeeze as he drew you closer, his lips brushing tantalizingly against your ear. “And I'm loving every second of it,” he whispered, sending a surge of heat through your body and making his grin widen even more.

Mattheo pushed you for another kiss, this time a softer one, leaning back against the bed and dragging you with him until the back of his head hit the headboard. In one swift motion, he bit your lip, breaking the kiss and abruptly flipping you onto your back, pressing you against his neck with a strength that made your eyes widen in surprise. You looked up at him, breathless, taking in the mix of dominance and desire radiating from him. You looked at him breathless.

“What—what are you doing?” you asked, your cheeks burning with the sudden action. You could feel his skin against your bare wetness.

Mattheo only grinned, feeling your pussy so close to him, and looked at you almost defiantly, but you were sure that you saw primal hunger in his gaze as he squeezed your thighs.

“You didn't want to break my nose?” Mattheo purred provocatively, a wicked smile curling his lips as he looked at the marks he made on your body. “Do it then.” He gripped your thighs tighter, his voice low and enticing. “Prove that you're not all talk, and sit on my face.” He said it without a shred of shame, and your eyes widened as you looked down at him.

Every inch of you was screaming at you to do it.

“Come on, love, are you scared?” he provoked, his mouth salivating with anticipation as he looked at your pussy nestled against his neck. Something in you snapped, and before you could even think about it, you positioned yourself over his face, sinking down and moaning at the sensation, feeling his grin against your wet cunt as he gripped your thighs even tighter.

“Just like that,” Mattheo murmured into your pussy, his tongue dancing and swirling in his mouth like a prelude to what he was about to do against your folds, and he couldn't help but let out a satisfied chuckle as he watched your impatient eyes.

You were already gasping, staring into Mattheo’s eyes with the same hunger and anger you had before, and he couldn’t help but feel a twisted satisfaction at that. He loved that you cared enough to be furious with him and relished the way you claimed his face as your throne.

For a brief moment, he craved you to break his nose, just so his blood could mingle with your pussy, marking you as his prey. That thought made Mattheo whisper inaudible words against your pussy like a prayer before he pressed your thighs against his cheeks and delivered the first lick.

Slow, painfully slow, almost like torture.

But as much as he craved to torture you, he couldn't, it was simply too much for him. The way your pleading eyes begged for more, the intoxicating scent of your arousal, and the initial taste of your cunt had him crazy. Without a second thought, he buried his face deeper into you, eating you out like a starved man desperate for his last taste of ecstasy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out, pushing his hair, which made him groan and moan against your folds. His tongue licked every inch of your core with fervor, ignoring any precision that could exist, too hungry to care. And you didn't mind how messy it got, not when he was licking and sucking your essence as if he wanted to drown in your wetness.

That was good—so good that you could already feel the tears streaming down your face. Your moans turned into screams as his muscle pushed deeper inside you. You were on the brink of breaking.

Mattheo didn't cared about that, though.

Since there was no technique or precision in the way he devoured you, there was only animalistic hunger and fervent hatred as his tongue flicked against your sex and his nose rubbed against your clit, leaving you so drunk with pleasure that the next thing to make you squeal was the feeling of his fingers massaging your thighs while his mouth sucked the spot where his nose had just been.

He wanted to be suffocated by you, to die between your legs consumed by your body, and that only fueled his obsession, driving him to push you further against him. He diverted his gaze from your cunt to your face, his stomach twisting with the precious sound of your moans.

“You look so pretty from here,” he moaned against your pussy, his eyes devouring every inch of you. You looked at him as your body started to weaken, and when you noticed the intensity in his dark brown eyes, you had to close yours quickly to escape his obsessive gaze. That only made him grip your legs even tighter, the veins in his arms bulging as he continued to suck on your clit, lost in your flavor.

“So fucking pretty,” Mattheo purred softly, almost hypnotized by the way your body reacted to him. He continued with fierce determination, his movements growing even more frenzied as his tongue and nose worked together to prolong your pleasure.

You were completely at his mercy, each wave of pleasure crashing over you more intensely than the last. He showed no signs of tiring, fully intent on pushing you to your limits, eager to watch you break over and over against his mouth.

He was utterly addicted to your taste, desperate for you to come into his mouth, determined to savor every last drop.

“Mattheo,” you choked out. “I can't—please, I need to cum!” You moaned repeatedly, your voice and legs trembling in sync.

“You can cum, love,” he said softly, his voice a stark contrast to the brutal way he feasted on you. “I will take it, I promise.” At his words, your body shattered as the first orgasm of the night swept over you, leaving you breathless, weak, and completely undone. But he didn't relent; instead, he buried his face deeper into your wetness, greedily lapping up every drop of your essence, driving you to scream even louder as you pressed into his face like a fucking masochist.

“I need another drop,” he murmured against your pussycat. “Just one, just one.” A lie. He didn't stop after the second drop. He didn't stop after the third, and each time he seemed to grow hungrier, as if he wanted to explode with your taste. But when your fourth orgasm hit, you couldn't take it anymore; you fell apart, collapsing beside him and dragging him down with you.

He had cum.

He came with your taste, and you had never felt more fulfilled, completely proud by the fact that you were the one who drove him to the edge without even touching him.

You looked at him, his chin still glistening with your essence, his chest rising and falling erratically, mirroring your own breath. But when your eyes met his, there was no hint of regret or shame—only a potent mix of hunger and satisfaction, as if he were on the verge of saying something else or maybe pushing your limits again.

“Next time, break my nose.” He said, putting your body against his almost like an embrace.

Next time. You nodded, that sounded like a plan.

© riddleshire — 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎.

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. 🫶🏻

this is my first one-shot about slytherin boys, so please be kind and respectful!

thanks for being my fav beta readers: @diiwata & @earth4angels ! love you both <3. also, thank you @nottsangel ! you were the first person i read regarding slytherin boys. thanks for putting me on to it! (my gallery is grateful as well) <3

[baby-yongbok]

After Party

Bang Chan x Afab!Reader

⤷ The Fendi after party gets much more interesting after a few margaritas and sneaking away with a stranger. ⤷ Content warning - protected sex ⤷ WC - 1.1k ⤷ A/N - In honor of Chris looking so fine for Milan Fashion week that he broke my writers block. ✧ Masterlist ✧

You met him five minutes ago, not that something like that matters when he looks like a Greek god but it explains why his name doesn't fall from your lips as easily as you want it to. 

The Fendi after party was boring. Your manager asked - actually, begged - you to be on your best behavior and you agreed. 

Then you saw him. 

“Fuck… Chan.” Right, that was his name, yeah. The very hot stranger who you drank too many margaritas with.

“I haven't even gotten started yet and you're already moaning my name? Cute.” His voice caused a sugar rush, a high of heat and a flood between your legs. “Turn around”

His hands grip your waist, turning you to the wall and hiking your dress up. Surely the designer won't be too upset if it rips, right? 

Chan's hands smooth over your ass, landing a smack that's drowned out by the music of the after party coming from the left… or the right. It doesn’t matter. 

“You're gonna fuck a stranger? Are you always this risky?” The smile on your face makes him forge one of his own as he works to free himself. 

“I'm not.” He leans into you, putting one hand on the wall and trapping you beneath him so that your back is to his chest. His dick presses firm into your ass and the feeling makes you want to turn around and take a look. “I figured I should try something new.” 

He kisses over your jaw and takes hold of his drooling cock, rubbing it over your equally needy cunt. “Got a condom?”

“My bag.” He reaches over and opens your bag, holding it out to you instead of going through it himself. You chuckle. “Such a gentleman.”

He blushes, turning a pretty red as you hand him the packaged rubber. “Is that your type?” He rips it open, rolls it on and positions himself. 

“You're my type.” He pushes in just barely. 

“You're mine too.” He hooks his arm around your midsection, pulling your back flush to his chest and pushing inside on one smooth motion.

Your jaw hangs slack, eyes roll back and you stifle a moan. Chan's hand comes up to cover your mouth and your own hand goes out in front of you in an attempt to brace yourself against the wall.

“You’re fucking tight.” He whispers and you notice that his voice is somehow sweeter when he talks dirty.

“And you're fucking big.” His hips shift and you whimper. He plays it off, saying that he's average but there's not an ounce of you that believes him. 

The first thrust feels like you're being split in two. Maybe it's the position. Maybe it's the way he has his hand pressed over the plush of your stomach to make sure you really, really feel him. Or maybe he's just fucking huge.

But the second thrust? Heaven on earth and so was every one of them that followed. 

“God, you take me so well.” Chan groans and you clench around him. “You like when I talk dirty, huh? You like when I tell you how well your cunt takes my cock? 

“Chan…” He presses his hand tighter over your mouth. The drowned out sound of skin on skin is enough to get you two caught, your moans would definitely tip everyone off.

“You can't keep quiet, can you, pretty?”

He presses you up against the wall and moves his hand from your mouth to your neck. He doesn't press, he only holds you. He tilts your head back and meets your lips in a kiss while his hips press hard against your ass. 

You swear that you can feel him in your stomach. It makes you gasp and he shuts you up with his tongue. He slides it over yours, tasting the lingering flavor of the margaritas and humming into you. 

“Please move again.” You mumble against his lips and he groans, letting his own head fall back for a second.

“I'm gonna cum.” Chan's voice is strained as he whispers. “You're gonna make me cum already.”

You reach back, grabbing his hip and trying to get him to move at least a little. You need more. It's only been a minute and you're dizzy with need.

“Then cum for me, please I just want something. Wanna feel you, Chan.” 

He buries his face in your neck for a second, moaning and nipping at the skin a bit before pulling his hips back.

“You're hot when you beg. Such a pretty girl falling apart on my cock.” 

His hand is back over your mouth the second you whimper. His other hand grips your hip while you reach back and is balled into his shirt.

“Rub your clit, cum with me.” Your hand moves from his shirt to between your thighs. The extra stimulation makes you jolt and clench and Chan hisses. 

“C'mon, You're gonna make me fucking bust.” The thought alone makes you moan. Your orgasm is close, so damn close and you know that his is closer. 

“Gonna…” Your fingers rub faster, sloppy circles into your clit but that's not what does it. It's when Chan slides his hand down from your hip and over yours between your thighs. He presses down and bottoms out and you're done for. 

“Holy shit…” You gasp, breath stuck in your chest and your body tenses and writhes from the burning pleasure. 

All of that is enough to get Chan falling apart right after you. His thrusts get sloppy until he pulls out, jerking his cock with a groan and splitting into the condom. 

The two of you try to catch your breath, panting as the sound of the music from the after party catches your attention. You look back at Chan who has his back to the wall next to you and his eyes closed. 

You sneak a peak of his cock… How the hell is that average? Average for who?

While you're gawking he reaches out and grabs your arm, pulling you gently into his chest. The gesture surprises you but you go along with it. 

“You… have made this an unforgettable night.” He laughs, his ears turning even redder if that's even possible. “Thank you.”

“Did you just thank me after fucking me?” It's your turn to laugh and he joins you. 

“I told you that I don't do things like this, okay. I don't know how It goes.” 

You lean up a bit and kiss him, soft but still hot enough to make him hum with renewed want. Your kisses trail from his lips, over his jaw and to his ear where you whisper. 

“Come back to my hotel and I'll show you just how this goes, yeah?” He smiles, his dimples showing through the blush and he nods. 

“I'd like that.”

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[teawithcherries]

wrong number

Ghost receives a text that leaves him absolutely reeling. OR the guy that you texted on accident is weirdly flirtatious and you're kind of into it?

1.1k words. lieutenant!Ghost x chef!reader (f). reader’s age unclear but 18+ (not a minor!!). divider by @plutism.

Unknown: SOS!!!!

Ghost immediately goes deathly still, eyes zeroing in on the text message notification that blinks across his phone before disappearing.

Having a SAS issued phone means that his phone number should be impossible to find. He doesn’t receive spam texts or calls and the few people who have his number know better than to bother him when he’s on paperwork duty. Which means that something is not right.

His phone buzzes again, and he feels his gut churn sourly.

Unknown: (1 attachment)

He doesn’t have time to think, he just braces himself for the worst. A photo of Johnny bleeding out with a gunshot wound? Coordinates to a location where Gaz is being held hostage? 

He’s already reaching for his kit in case he needs to jump on a helo when the attachment, an image, finally opens up.

The breath that was suspended in his chest slowly releases like a deflated balloon as he tries to make sense of the carnage on his phone screen. Yet, it isn’t one of his squadmates that’s crying out for help. Rather, it’s an image of a Cornish hen that’s been burnt to an absolute charred crisp. 

His mind is racing at a speed that he can’t quite process, his eyes methodically scanning the photo for any clues or hidden messages in the image. 

Yet, even to his trained eye, the image is perfectly normal. The background of the photo is a standard flat kitchen, slightly disorganized with cooking materials and ingredients scattered about. Your feet are visible in the corner of the photo, you’re wearing a pair of girly pajama shorts and bunny slippers.

His brows scrunch together in confusion, thoroughly perplexed and slightly annoyed at the mental gymnastics that he is undertaking to try to make sense of these messages.

Ghost: Who are you?

Your reply is instant, confirming his suspicion that you have truly somehow managed to message him by accident.

Unknown: It’s (♥︎), your classmate from culinary school!

Ghost glances at the image again, brows scrunching in disbelief that you are training to become a chef considering the charred and blackened state of the bird.

Ghost: Wrong number.

Unknown: Ah, how embarrassing. So sorry to disturb you! I must have jotted down my classmate’s number incorrectly during class. Have a lovely rest of your evening! 

That’s that then.

He sighs and sets his phone on his worn desk, glancing back at the mountain of paperwork that awaits him. He’s several hours away from finishing up, and Price will absolutely have his head if doesn't get it all done.

Yet, for reasons he isn't willing to unpack, the image of your bare legs tucked into those ridiculously fuzzy bunny slippers lingers in the back of his mind. His fist twitches, annoyed with himself for getting so hot and bothered over a mere glimpse of bare ankle.

You’re just another nameless, faceless muppet in the void of the digital age. Even responding back to your text message is probably a breach of security protocol that could land him in another hour long cybersecurity training seminar if he isn't careful.

So Ghost isn’t sure why he bothers picking up his phone and typing a message at all, but his thumb hits send before he can ponder it any further.

Ghost: Chicken seems a bit burnt.

Being the asshole that he is, Ghost can’t help but chuckle wryly at his own joke. He figures you’ll probably ignore his message. Maybe you’ll even take offence to it and block his number. So when his phone instantly buzzes with a response, his interest is fully captured.

Unknown: You think? I worried it might be a bit underdone.

The corner of his mouth twitches upward beneath his mask.

Ghost: I could be wrong. You’re the chef after all.

Unknown: Well, there’s plenty to go around if you fancy charcoals and mash.

He's fully smiling now, embarrassingly chuffed that you're playing along.

Ghost: You asking me on a date?

Unknown: Depends. Are you a serial killer?

Ghost: Depends on your definition of a serial killer.

It’s silent after that and Ghost can’t help the kernel of disappointment that takes root in his chest. Easygoing banter is far and few between for the lieutenant who has spent the last 48 hours trying to make sense of the mountain of paperwork that piled up on his desk during his last mission. He was enjoying this exchange with you far more than he cares to admit, and several minutes pass with no response before he glumly locks his phone and returns his attention to his desk.

A full day passes and Ghost accepts that he has scared you off.

Yet he can’t blame you. He knows full well that there are loads of creeps and nut jobs on the Internet who could take advantage of you. And even so, you’d be better off messaging any one of those weirdos rather than him. Because, after all, he’s ... who he is.

Three days later, Ghost is seven kilometers into his evening jog around the training field when his phone buzzes again unexpectedly. His eye twitches but he doesn’t check it right away, chiding himself for the persistent flare of hope in his gut that refuses to be extinguished. He’s been pathetically rushing to his phone with every notification he receives since your last text message came through and feeling disappointed every time it isn’t you.

It’s only when his phone buzzes again that he decides to bite the bullet and check who's texting him.

He’s fully expecting it to be another stupid meme from Soap in the 141 group chat. Which is why he skids to a stop, heart suddenly pounding in his chest, at the sight of a message from your phone number (which he has memorized at this point).

It’s his trigger finger that flies to open your message, eyes fixed intensely, almost nervously, on the pixelated screen of his outdated phone.

You’ve sent him a photo of a sausage roll, a proper sausage roll, that’s cooling on a wire rack in your kitchen. He's already salivating at the sight of the juicy blend of ground meat packed neatly and precisely into a flaky case of golden pastry, as well as the sliver of your bare thigh that's showing in the edge of the photo.

He assumes that you’ve accidentally messaged him again instead of your classmate until he sees the message beneath the image.

Unknown: Just wanted you to know that I’ve been testing some other recipes for our date. 

Unknown: Thoughts on my sausage rolls?

Ghost doesn’t even realize that he’s grinning like a madman until his face starts to twitch uncomfortably. He hasn’t smiled so hard in months, maybe even years, and the mechanics of beaming like a lovesick idiot have almost been forgotten by his stiff facial muscles.

He responds immediately, almost afraid that you might slip through his gloved fingers again if he is even a second too late.

Ghost: That’ll do.

(thoughts on part 2 from reader pov? i want them to talk on the phone and see ghost be all cute n awkward TT)

[ozzgin]

“Do you mean it in the sense that Reader goes through monster boyfriends and is quick to dump them for the next catch”

Yep. Just a vile reader who’s breaking hearts left and right. I think you’ll write it beautifully if you channel your evil side like when you play the sims! ☺️

-👘

Yandere! Monsters x Heartbreaker! Reader

You've always been a free spirit, unable to settle on a single partner. Even after being abruptly transported into a different dimension where you are the only human surrounded by monsters, this habit of yours has persisted. Except monsters, as you will see, are harder to discard than humans. They aren't as willing to accept rejection.

Content: female reader, reader is a player, monster smut

Ah, how troublesome. He won't stop calling. You lazily pick up the phone and look for the options to block the number, clicking your tongue in irritation. You'd specifically told him you're not interested in anything serious. "Who's calling?" The man shuffles under the sheets, still half-asleep. "No one." You respond curtly, glaring at the intruder. "It's morning already, by the way. When are you leaving?"

You slam the door shut before the overnight guest can bring up the classic "Will I see you again", and exhale theatrically in relief. Finally alone again. You look up and shake your fist menacingly, as if whichever entity governing this world is responsible for your bad luck. You've always been utterly indifferent towards committed relationships, and yet most fuck buddies end up head over heels for you, dragging themselves at your feet like pitiful beggars. Pathetic and a pain in the ass to deal with.

Well, someone must be up there, because your situation feels too much like a sassy answer to your complaint. You've just rushed out of your apartment a moment ago and last time you checked, the concierge office wasn't on a rocky hill covered in deep cracks erupting with lava, stretching out into the seemingly unending horizon. Where the hell are you? You turn on your heels, reaching for the door, only to find out - who would've expected? - that it's gone. Great. Your immediate explanation is that the guy you've mistakenly brought home last night must've slipped something in your drinks. All this for a sloppy, clumsy eating out.

The worry of being drugged vanishes quickly once the first creatures of the realm appear. Hard to believe anything on the market could cause such detailed hallucinations that can sniff and touch you: Some alligator-looking minions with eyes popping out of their backs slid out of a nearby crevice to investigate the newcomer. Ironically enough, they seem to be the ones shocked by your appearance. Once they've hesitantly assessed your presence, they scurry aside to discuss their findings. "What could it be?" You hear one mumble, completely baffled. For whatever reason you can understand their language, so you decide to speed up their detective work. "Ever heard of human?" You shout, with a hint of sarcasm in your voice. The beasts gasp in unison. "Nonsense! Straight out of a children's tale!"

Eventually, after a lot of confusion and pointed fingers, you manage to figure out your predicament. You've somehow landed in a world of monsters, where humans are more of a fictional, mythical existence. Thankfully they don't seem to consider your potential as food, though you're not sure if the sudden, massive ambush of creatures is any better. The alligator-like quadrupeds brought you to the nearest settlement and had to form a barrier to stop the curious beasts from almost trampling you in their frenzy to see "the human". You've garnered ridiculous amounts of attention, yet such reaction is to be expected; how often would an earthling wander into their world? It could very well be a lifetime singularity for many.

As the days pass and you become more accustomed to your fate, you begin to feel that familiar calling. It doesn't look like you'll be going home anytime soon and a lady has her needs. Additionally, whatever popularity you had back in the human world is a minuscule fraction of what you're currently experiencing here. In the eyes of the monsters, you're an exotic treat that cannot be refused. It shouldn't be too hard to find yourself a partner, or two. Or three. Who keeps count nowadays?

You remember stumbling upon a postcard print of "The Dream of the Fisherman's Wife" at some museum shop. You immediately picked up the thick cardboard, eyeing the artwork in amusement. A woman enveloped in the limbs of two octopuses and very obviously enjoying herself. Who even came up with the pairing, you wondered at the time. Whatever the artist was thinking, you can certainly see his point now. The first one to receive your indecent proposal was an eldritch creature of sorts, something straight out of Lovecraft's lucid dreams. Dark, long tendrils sprawling out of an amorphous core - which you assume is its head based on the bulging, glistening orbs hungrily staring at you. Your whole body is throbbing under the tight hold of the slippery tentacles, wrapping around you in masterful intricacy. You could see the result featured in a bondage magazine, though you don't...can't ponder much on it given the fact you're, well, stuffed with monstrous appendages. You doubt any genital variation back home could compare. The monster is even polite enough to occasionally wipe away the continuous stream of drool spilling out of your whining mouth. Towards the end you barely have a voice anymore, throat sore from the loud moans and merciless constriction. Your muscles contract all at once, overwhelmed by the sensations. Whatever sensitive areas you might have are presently aching under the needy fondling of the creature.

Mind-blowing. The memory is enough to have you wet and squirming with desire. Even more so when you consider the other varieties of monsters ready to fuck you senseless. Soon enough you're surveying the neighborhood for the ideal suitors and thankfully you don't have to worry about making wrong choices, as there's always a next target. Thus the following weeks fill you with a particular kind of nostalgia (among other things and fluids), reminding you of the bed-hopping in the human realm. From werewolves drowning out your whimpers with their desperate howling, to hooved legs of hybrids violently thrusting into you until you're a dripping mess. "Look at me" is what one of the beasts demanded in a low growl, turning you on with its ragged voice and clawed hand encircling your frail neck. Although you had to ask it where exactly to look, given it was covered entirely in eyes.

You yawn and stare at the ceiling, reminiscing about the depraved fuckfest you're currently recovering from. You might've overdone it with the last one. Alas, you came enough times to make up for it. Just as you turn around to readjust the ice pack, you hear a loud thud coming from the entrance. You (carefully) sit up and rub your eyes, trying to focus on the shadow figure approaching your bed. It's one of the lizard monsters, swiftly slithering across the wall and landing over you with an angered expression. "Where the fuck is that dog?" it inquires with a hiss. "What? Who're you talking about?" you mumble, wildly confused. "The one that dared to touch you."

Oh, not this crap again. You almost roll your eyes. "You never said anything about us being together." Is your annoyed reply. "What? I thought it'd be obvious you belong to me!" You're about to question the strange logic, but your couple's quarrel is interrupted by the sound of shattered glass. The many-eyed monster crawls its way in with fluid, uncanny movements, releasing a deafening screech once it notices the lizard in your bed. "Off! Get off my human now!" is what it finally manages to verbalize in its fury. Okay, it seems to be the common belief. To clear off any shred of doubt remaining, the ceiling gives in and crumbles like putty under the weight of an enormous tentacle. You scream and cover your face from the bits of rubble flying everywhere, but you're quickly sheltered by another thick appendage looping itself around you, against the wrathful protests of the lizard. You did not anticipate the eldritch creature could expand to this gargantuan size.

For the first time since arriving here, you feel homesick. At least back home you could get rid of your annoying admirers with the slide of a button. Is there a larger scale alternative for cosmic blasphemies? You shake your fist (up? down? you can't tell in the darkness of the tentacle shield) towards the entity once more. Damn it, you've learned your lesson. Several steps must’ve been skipped before reaching a pack of angry, possessive monsters fighting over your ownership.

[edgybutnotveryedgy]

Harem protagonists really cant catch a break can they

[demonicintegrity]

“The golden age of America begins right now” my dude groceries are expensive and will not get cheaper overnight.

“We will be the envy of every nation” we’re not. And will not be.

Just. Eugh.

“A tide of change is sweeping over the country.” Sure is. That is correct observation.

“We now have a government that cannot manage a single issue from home” YOU MISMANAGED COVID?

YOU ARE BRING UP IMMIGRANTS NOW??

“They don’t have a home anymore. That’s interesting.” Those rich people have second and third homes and can always afford more. Shut the fuck up. If you care about people care about the people who cannot afford such things.

“I was saved by god to make America great again.” I cannot stress enough how much I dislike any god that could’ve sent this man to us.

“Meet every crisis with dignity, power and strength.” Remember when you sharpied on the path of a hurricane.

LIBERATION DAY??? FROM WHAT???

“Most consequential election…” yeah. Sure. Sure is.

Oh no not the historic executive orders— COMMON SENSE???

Declaring a national emergency at our southern border (and receiving standing ovation for it), beginning the process of deportations for “criminals” and sending troops to our border. Which. Surely won’t escalate violence at all.

I’m not familiar with this illegal aliens act from the 1700s but I fear I’m about to be very aware about it. I cannot imagine this is anything good.

DRILL BABY DRILL??? THATS GONNA SOLVE THE NATIONAL ENERGY EMERGENCY?? YOURE SHITTING ME.

“We will be a rich nation again, and it will be—

ENDING THE GREEN NEW DEAL, USING THE OIL UNDER OUR FEET WHILE CALIFORNIA BURNS. Fucking hell.

“We will tariff and tax foreign countries to enrich our citizens.” Somehow. I don’t believe that will enrich us.

Establishing the ERS and DOGE. Ough.

And he’s gonna bring back free speech while criticizing Seth Meyers for poking at him….. and he’s gonna stop political persecution. Yeah sure. Sure. Sure sure sure.

SOCIALLY ENGINEER RACE AND GENDER INTO PUBLIC AND PRIVATE PLACES?? THAT WAS HAPPENINGG.

It’s official policy. Only Male and Female. It’s really going to be official policy. Oh my fucking god. From a party that denies climate change. Oh my fucking god. I’m nonbinary and that’s about to be a fucking challenge.

“The wars we never get into.” Didn’t we worry about ww3 last time?

“That’s what I wanna be, a peacemaker and unifier.” YOURE NOT. YOU ARE NOT.

WHY ARE YOU CHANGING THE GULF OF MEXICO??

“foolishly given to the country of Panama” ITS ON THEIR LAND AND THEY CONTROL IT?? HELLO??? Yet China is operating the Panama Canal???

“As we liberate our nation” from WHAT. What are you liberating us from!?

“Pursue our manifest destiny” didnt that genocide natives— PLANT A FLAG ON MARS?

Yeah no this entire speech has been. A little concerning to say the least. And it just keeps going and going.

“Full of compassion, courage, and exceptionalism.” You are the least compassionate person here. Please.

I just. Don’t feel great after that. Hm.

[heliosunny]

okay.. one.. YOU'RE GENUINELY THE BEST WRITER ON THIS PLATFORM I THINK I'VE READ EVERYTHING YOU'VE EVER WRITTEN.. two, a yandere phainon with a SO that keeps pushing him away due to thinking he's way too good for them, like moving countries typa pushing him away, just telling him like.. "You deserve someone way better, you're just misguided!".. etc

No Escape

Yandere!Phainon x Reader

The first time you saw Phainon, he was standing at the top of the academy’s marble steps, a faint breeze teasing at his silver hair as he spoke to someone important-looking. Even in a place filled with prodigies and elites, he stood out. Meanwhile, you were just another nameless student in the sea of faces, struggling to keep up in a world that never seemed to slow down.

You never expected to cross paths with him. But fate had a cruel sense of humor.

A few shared classes. A single partnered project. Then, somehow, Phainon kept appearing—offering to help you with assignments, walking with you between lessons, seeking you out in the crowded dining hall when he had a thousand better people to sit with. His attention was overwhelming.

You tried to brush it off as politeness. He had no reason to be interested in you. Maybe he pitied you. Maybe he was just nice to everyone. But no matter how much you convinced yourself of that, Phainon never looked at anyone else the way he looked at you.

It was supposed to be a simple experiment. A foundational potion—one that even first-years could brew without issue. Yet, somehow, you had still managed to mess it up.

The classroom was thick with the scent of crushed herbs and simmering liquids, cauldrons bubbling softly as students carefully followed the professor’s instructions. You and Phainon had been paired together, much to your dismay. Not because he was unpleasant—far from it. But because standing beside someone like him only highlighted how out of place you were.

“Careful” Phainon murmured as you reached for the powdered moonroot. “That’s starshade. If you mix that in, the potion will—”

A single spoonful of the wrong ingredient hit the potion’s surface before he could finish his warning. The liquid instantly turned a sickly green before erupting into a thick, foul-smelling smoke.

Coughing, you stumbled backward, barely able to make out Phainon’s silhouette through the haze. Around the room, other students were staring, some laughing, some groaning from second-hand embarrassment.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

When the smoke cleared, the professor pinched the bridge of her nose before marking something down on her clipboard. “Another failure” she sighed, shaking her head. “Mr. Phainon, I expected better.”

You glanced at him, feeling guilt twist in your gut. It wasn’t his fault—you were the one who had messed up. But Phainon merely smiled, completely unfazed. “Mistakes are part of learning”

If failing potions class was humiliating, then physical training was an absolute nightmare.

Magic broom exercises were a staple at the academy—a mix of aerial maneuvering and endurance meant to build both magical and physical control. For most students, it was exhilarating. For you, it was just another opportunity to fall flat on your face. Literally.

“Just kick off the ground lightly” Phainon instructed, hovering effortlessly beside you as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “Let the magic flow through you.”

That was easy for him to say.

Still, you grit your teeth and tried. The broom wobbled violently the moment your feet left the ground, and before you could steady yourself, it twisted sideways. You yelped as gravity took over, sending you crashing back onto the training field.

The instructor let out a long-suffering sigh. The other students snickered.

Phainon, of course, landed smoothly beside you, offering his hand. “Are you hurt?”

You groaned, rolling onto your back to stare at the sky instead of meeting his gaze. “Just my pride.”

There was a soft chuckle, and then—before you could stop him—Phainon crouched down and plucked a stray leaf from your hair.

“You’re improving” he said, completely sincere.

You gave him a skeptical look. “I literally just fell on my face.”

“You lasted two seconds longer this time.” His smile was slight but warm. “That’s progress.”

Something in your chest tightened. It was the way he looked at you—like you weren’t a failure, like he actually believed in you.

----

“You’re avoiding me”

You forced a smile, pretending not to feel the weight of his presence. “I’m just busy.”

“No, you’re not.”

You exhaled, shoulders tensing. “Phainon, you don’t understand. You shouldn’t be wasting your time with me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you deserve better,” you blurted out, frustration bleeding into your tone. “You deserve someone extraordinary, someone who belongs in your world—not me.”

A slow silence stretched between you.

“You think I don’t know what I want?”

“You’ll realize it one day.”

“I already have.” He stepped closer, “You’re the only thing I’ve ever been certain of.”

That was the problem.

Because one day, he would see the truth.

And that’s why you had to leave.

The village was quiet. Tucked away in a valley where the mountains shielded it from the outside world, where magic was nothing more than a story told to children before bed.

Here, you weren’t a failure. You weren’t a disappointment. You weren’t anything but yourself.

The people welcomed you easily enough. A newcomer with no past, no baggage—just willing hands and a desire to work. You took on whatever jobs you could. Fetching water, helping at the bakery, tending to the fields when the farmers needed an extra hand. It was hard work, but it was yours.

And best of all, Phainon wasn’t here.

Time moved differently in the village. The days stretched long beneath golden sunlight, the nights cool and filled with the sounds of crickets and rustling leaves. Slowly, the tension in your chest unraveled.

For the first time in years, you could breathe.

You stopped thinking about magic. Stopped thinking about what you left behind.

The village had become home. Years had passed since you arrived, and with time, you molded yourself into the life here, into the rhythm of simplicity. No one here knew of magic—no one needed to. You had left that world behind.

Until the day you were forced to use it again.

It was supposed to be a normal afternoon. You stood knee-deep in the river, feeling the gentle current brush against your legs as you worked to catch fish for dinner. The sun was warm, the air filled with the laughter of children playing nearby.

Then, a scream.

You turned just in time to see a boy, no older than six, trip over the edge of the riverbank. His friends gasped as he tumbled forward, the steep drop giving him no chance to stop himself before he plunged straight into the deeper part of the river.

The current was too strong. The boy’s small body disappeared beneath the surface, water swallowing his cries.

No one here could swim well enough to save him in time.

No one, except you.

But swimming alone wasn’t enough. By the time you got to him, it would be too late.

The promise you made to yourself—to never use magic again—shattered.

Without thinking, you raised your hand.

A whisper of energy, long buried, surged through your veins. The river stilled in an instant, the currents bending to your will. The water lifted, forming a controlled wave that carried the boy gently back to the shore, setting him down safely on the grass.

The children hadn’t spoken a word.

You had made sure of that.

After pulling them aside, you crouched down, “You can’t tell anyone what you saw. Not your parents, not your friends—no one. This is our little secret, alright?”

They had nodded, still wide-eyed from the miracle they had just witnessed. Thankfully, kids loved secrets. They thought of it as a game, something special just between you and them. For now, your peace was intact.

Or so you thought.

The next morning, you made your way back to the river, hoping to clear your mind. Maybe even push down the unease still twisting in your stomach. But as you approached, you froze.

Someone else was there.

And not just anyone. Him

Phainon sat comfortably on a fallen log, watching the children with a small, amused smile as they chattered excitedly around him. He looked out of place among them- too refined, like a painting come to life. And yet, he somehow blended in so effortlessly, laughing at their stories, ruffling their hair like an older brother would.

As if sensing your presence, he looked up. The moment his gaze met yours, time itself seemed to halt.

His expression softened, “Oh?” He rose to his feet, brushing off nonexistent dust from his coat. “I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”

You took a step back instinctively, but he was already approaching.

“You look well” he murmured, eyes scanning you as if memorizing every detail. “This place suits you.”

“Phainon…”

“How…?” The question barely made it past your lips.

“How did I find you?” he finished for you, his smile deepening. “Come now, you know the answer to that.”

Of course, you did. He had never been the type to let go of something he wanted.

“Why are you here?” you asked, though you already knew.

“To take you back.”

The children, blissfully unaware of the weight in the air, tugged at his sleeve, asking if he would play another round of their game. He chuckled, indulging them for just a moment longer before returning his attention to you.

“I’ve been very patient” he said, “But you’ve had your fun, haven’t you? A few years of pretending to be someone else, living a quiet life in hiding.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you could hear.

“But you belong with me.”

You swallowed hard, willing yourself to stay calm. The river murmured beside you, its steady rhythm grounding you against the storm that had just arrived in your life.

“I’m not going back” you said, keeping your voice even. “I built a life here. A normal, happy life.”

Phainon hummed as if considering your words, but the knowing glint in his eyes never faded. “A happy life, is it?” He glanced around at the quiet village in the distance, at the carefree children still playing near the water. “I see. It’s charming. Simple. Safe.” His gaze flickered back to you, sharper now. “But is it really yours?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve been pretending.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Haven’t you?” He stepped closer, and you resisted the urge to back away. “You came here running, hiding, trying to erase the parts of yourself that didn’t fit into this little picture-perfect village. But you can’t change who you are.”

“Even if I wanted to return—which I don’t—you’re not just expecting me to go back to that world, to the academy, to the annoying people?” You studied him, searching for an answer you already knew. “You want me to stay by your side.”

You exhaled, “I deserve to be where I choose.”

“Then prove it.”

“…What?”

Phainon gestured around, as if presenting the village itself. “You say you belong here. That this life is what you truly want. So, I’ll stay.” He smiled, voice light but unmistakably firm. “I’ll see it for myself.”

“If you’re right,” he continued smoothly, “then I’ll leave. I’ll never bring this up again.”

A lump formed in your throat. You knew him too well—Phainon never agreed to something without confidence in the outcome.

“But if I’m right…Then you’re coming home with me.”

“Fine.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

----

Phainon blended in effortlessly.

He smiled at the villagers, greeted them politely, and answered their curious questions with practiced ease. They saw a charming, well-mannered traveler—someone elegant yet approachable, someone who belonged in the outside world but was humble enough to appreciate their quiet life.

But you knew better. Every kind word, every gentle laugh, every playful interaction with the children—it was all a mask. A carefully crafted act.

Because beneath that smile, Phainon hated them.

He hated the way they spoke to you like you were one of them. Hated the way they relied on you, trusted you, called you their own. Hated that you had given them years of your life—years that should have been his.

And worst of all, he hated that you thought they were your home.

You kept a close eye on him as he spent his first day in the village.

He helped an elderly woman carry a basket of vegetables from the market. Listened to the local blacksmith talk about his craft with genuine-seeming interest. Even played with the children again, letting them tug at his sleeves and drag him into their games.

And yet, you could see it.

The slight hesitation before he let them touch him. The way his fingers twitched, as if suppressing the urge to recoil. The empty warmth in his voice when he praised them.

To anyone else, he was nothing but kind.

His patience was razor-thin.

This was a test—for you, for them.

He was waiting. Waiting for the moment you would finally realize what he already knew. That these people weren’t your home. That this place wasn’t enough for you.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped into the horizon, you found Phainon sitting outside the small cottage you called home. He looked up at you with a smile, a book resting on his lap.

“How was your day?” he asked, as if this was normal, as if he hadn’t just invaded the life you built.

“I should be asking you that.”

He chuckled. “The village is… charming.”

“They’re good people” you said carefully.

“Are they?”... I’ll admit, it’s impressive how long you lasted here”

You clenched your jaw. “I’m still here.”

“For now.”

----

The scent of fresh flowers filled the small shop, delicate petals brushing against your fingers as you arranged the newest bouquet. It was peaceful here—one of the few places in the village where you could find solace. A quiet, colorful haven where no one expected too much from you.

But today, peace was a fleeting thing.

Because Phainon was here.

Seated gracefully near the counter, he idly turned a flower between his fingers, the picture of effortless charm. The sunlight filtering through the window caught the silver strands of his hair, highlighting the striking contrast of his sharp, elegant features.

And, of course, the ladies noticed.

They had been stopping by all morning, some of them customers, others just looking for an excuse to linger. They giggled, twirled strands of their hair, asked far too many questions about him.

Phainon, as always, indulged them.

He smiled, listened with amused interest, even complimented them in that smooth, easy tone of his. It was effortless—just like back in the academy days, when people gravitated toward him like moths to a flame.

You exhaled sharply, setting down the bouquet you had been working on.

“I must say” one of the women giggled, resting a hand on the counter as she looked at Phainon through her lashes, “you don’t seem like a traveler at all. You carry yourself like someone of noble blood.”

Phainon chuckled, twirling the flower in his hand. “Do I?”

You didn’t miss the amusement in his tone.

If only they knew.

Another woman leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Are you staying long? It would be a shame if someone like you just disappeared.”

“I suppose that depends.”

His gaze flickered toward you for just a second—so brief no one else would’ve caught it. But you did.

Your fingers tightened around the bouquet’s stems.

He wanted to see how you would react. If you would push him away. If you would feel something. So you said nothing. You grabbed a pair of scissors, focused on trimming the leaves, and ignored him entirely.

The women kept fawning over him, unaware of the silent tension beneath the surface. And through it all, Phainon smiled.

But you knew him too well.

Beneath that easy charm, there was something sharper. A quiet, unspoken warning.

By the third day, the village had fully embraced Phainon as a welcome guest. His charm and helpful demeanor had won over the villagers, and they spoke of him with admiration. But beneath his courteous exterior, a storm was brewing.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the village, Phainon approached you with a serene smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"It's time to end this charade"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Return with me, or face the consequences."

Swallowing your fear, you shook your head. "I won't go back. This is my home now."

Phainon's smile faded entirely, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. "Very well."

Without another word, he raised his hand, and a surge of energy crackled through the air. Flames erupted from the thatched roof of a nearby cottage, quickly spreading as villagers screamed and scrambled to extinguish the fire.

"Stop!" you cried, reaching out instinctively.

Phainon turned to you, his eyes devoid of mercy. "This is just the beginning. For every day you refuse to come with me, more of this village will burn."

Tears blurred your vision as you watched the chaos unfold. The people who had taken you in, who had become your family, were now suffering because of you.

"Please," you whispered, voice trembling. "Don't hurt them."

He stepped closer, gently cupping your face with a hand that had just wrought destruction. "Then make the right choice. Come with me, and they will be spared."

Defeated and broken, you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I'll go with you."

"Good. We leave at dawn."

As he walked away, you fell to your knees, the weight of your decision crushing your spirit. The village would survive, but at the cost of your freedom.

The journey back was quiet.

You sat beside Phainon in the carriage, staring out the window as the village faded into the distance. A hollow ache settled in your chest, your hands clenched into fists against your lap.

You had fought so hard to stay. To build something for yourself.

And yet, here you were.

Dragged back to the place you ran from.

The silence was suffocating, but Phainon seemed completely at ease. He sat comfortably across from you.

Finally, you exhaled sharply, unable to hold it in any longer. “Why?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Why what?”

“Why me? You’re—you’re Phainon. Talented. Admired.” You forced yourself to look at him. “You could have anyone. People worship the ground you walk on. So why are you wasting your time with someone like me?”

For a brief moment, Phainon simply studied you, as if the question itself was absurd.

“You truly don’t understand, do you?”

“Understand what?”

“You are mine. You were meant to be by my side.”

“That’s not—”

“You say I could have anyone.” His smile widened, amusement glinting in his eyes. “You’re right. But I don’t want anyone else.”

His grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly, enough to make your pulse spike.

“I want you.”

Phainon exhaled through his nose, his usual composed demeanor slipping just a little.

“You always do this” he murmured, shaking his head as if disappointed. “You keep pushing me away like I’m some foolish child chasing after something fleeting.”

His fingers slid away from your wrist.

“I thought you understood me better than that.”

“I don’t understand you at all.”

Phainon’s lips pressed into a thin line. He leaned back against the seat, regarding you with something unreadable.

“Do you remember,” he started, “that day in the alchemy class? When you nearly blew us both up?”

“What…?”

“You misread the measurements, mixed the wrong ingredients.” His gaze darkened, but there was no malice in it. Just something strangely… fond. “And instead of panicking, instead of trying to shift the blame like most people would, you just—” He let out a quiet, breathy chuckle. “You just looked at me with guilt and then laughed to brush it off.”

You had laughed. Not because it was funny, but because you were so used to failing.

“That was the first time in years someone had laughed with me. Not to impress me. Not to get my attention.”

You glanced away, unsure what to say.

But Phainon wasn’t finished.

“And then there was that time during flight practice.” He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “You were terrible.”

Your lips parted, indignant. “I wasn’t that bad—”

“You crashed into a tree.”

You winced. Okay, maybe you were that bad.

Phainon exhaled, rubbing his temple. “I should have been annoyed. It was a waste of time, and you dragged me down with you.” He lowered his hand, his eyes locking onto yours again. “But instead, I found myself fascinated.”

“Wait- Why?”

His lips parted, then closed again, as if choosing his words carefully. And then, finally—

“Because you weren’t afraid to be imperfect.”

“You struggled. You failed. You made mistakes.” His voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “But you never let that stop you. You never pretended to be something you weren’t.”

“I grew up surrounded by people who only showed me what they thought I wanted to see. People who wore their own masks, desperate to be flawless, desperate to be noticed.” His jaw clenched. “But you… you never tried to be anything but yourself.”

His fingers curled slightly, as if resisting the urge to reach for you.

“And I—” He exhaled, almost shakily. “I couldn’t look away.”

The carriage fell into silence.

The weight of Phainon’s confession hung between you, suffocating in its intensity. His words should have meant something—should have been enough to prove he wasn’t just chasing an illusion.

And yet, your hands still trembled in your lap.

Because no matter how much he thought he loved you—

It was still wrong.

“So what?” you whispered, voice hoarse. “Just because you like those things about me, you think that justifies everything?”

Phainon’s brows furrowed slightly.

“You burned my home, Phainon.” You clenched your jaw, trying to keep the anger from breaking into something weaker. “You threatened innocent people just to get me back. That isn’t love. That’s—”

His hand lashed out, gripping your wrist before you could recoil. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that you felt the unspoken don’t you dare finish that sentence.

His usual composed mask cracked—just slightly, just enough to reveal something darker beneath the surface.

“I did what I had to do.” His voice was quiet, almost calm, but there was a tremor beneath it. A barely-contained storm. “You left me. You threw yourself away like you were nothing. Like we were nothing.” His fingers tightened, just a fraction. “And I wasn’t going to stand by and let that happen.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“Wasn’t it?”

His other hand came up, brushing against your cheek—“You think I could just let you go? Just sit back and watch while you buried yourself in a life that was never meant for you?”

His fingers curled, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to look into his eyes.

“You think I could ever be okay with that?”

Your throat went dry. Because this was it. The moment he stopped pretending.

“You belong with me.” His voice dropped lower, “You always have. And I don’t care how long it takes—how much you fight, how many times you try to run.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting against your skin.

“I will always bring you back.”

You knew you couldn’t fight him head-on—not now, not when he was stronger, more prepared. But you had to try.

So you made your move.

With a sharp twist of your wrist, magic surged through your veins. The carriage around you blurred, the air crackling as you poured everything into a single desperate spell— Escape.

The moment your body flickered out of existence, you reappeared outside, stumbling onto the forest road. You didn’t wait. You ran.

Twigs snapped beneath your feet as you pushed forward, lungs burning. The wind howled past your ears, the distant hoot of an owl the only sound in the otherwise eerie silence.

A presence loomed behind you.

A hand seized your wrist.

Your entire body jerked backward as a grip yanked you off your feet. A sharp gasp tore from your throat as you collided with something solid.

The scent of embers and something faintly sweet filled your senses.

“Really now,” Phainon’s voice drawled “Did you honestly think you could get away?”

You thrashed, kicking, clawing—anything to loosen his hold—

But his grip only tightened, effortlessly caging you against him.

“You already knew how this would end.”

“No—! Put me down—!”

“Now, now,” Phainon mused, carrying you effortlessly through the forest as if you weren’t fighting him with every ounce of your strength. “If you didn’t resist this much…”

His fingers trailed up your back, sending a sharp chill through you.

“I’d go easy on you.”

The moment Phainon’s home came into view, dread twisted in your stomach. The towering walls loomed over you, the polished stone gleaming beneath the moonlight. Once, this place had simply been part of the academy grounds. Now, it felt more like a prison.

And you were being dragged back inside.

The heavy doors shut behind you with a thud that might as well have been the slamming of a cage. Phainon finally set you down, but his grip never left your wrist. You yanked at it instinctively, but he only pulled you closer, forcing you to face him.

“You’ve tired yourself out,” he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face as if you weren’t staring at him in outright defiance. “You should rest.”

“I don’t want to rest. I want to leave.”

“And where would you go? Back to that village?” A quiet scoff. “Do you think they’d still want you after what happened?”

He was wrong. They wouldn’t blame you. They couldn’t. But his words still wormed their way into your thoughts, planting doubt where there shouldn’t have been any.

“You see? There’s nowhere else for you, love. The world out there doesn’t deserve you. It never did.”

Your hands trembled. “That doesn’t mean you do.”

“You can fight me” he murmured. “You can scream, run, struggle. But it won’t change anything. Because in the end, I will always find you.”

“I will always bring you back.”

And as he leaned in, his lips barely a breath away from your ear, he whispered—

“So stop making this harder than it needs to be.”

[majikkulu]

✮ ˖° ⸜ masterlist ꕤ ･

╭₊˚๑ i'm  not  a  professional  astrologer,  so  they  may  not  resonate  with  everyone—take  them  with  a  grain  of  salt.  consider  the  planets, degrees, etc! these  are  just  my  personal  observations  and  opinions

if  you  have  any  astrology  post  suggestions,  feel  free  to  drop  them  in  my  ask  box,  and  i’ll  make  it  happen!  xoxo.

☁️₊˚੭

⋆⁺₊ your  ascendant  persona  chart  (apc)  reveals  a  more  intense,  refined  version  of  how  you  present  yourself  to  the  world.  it  dives  deeper  into  your  rising  sign,  showing  a  clearer  expression  of  who  you  are.  think  of  it  as  a  magnified  first  impression,  offering  more  than  your  natal  chart.  the  apc  also  explores  how  you  shift  in  different  situations,  especially  when  your  natal  rising  differs  from  your  ascendant  persona.

⋆⁺₊ in  my  opinion,  your  rising  in  the  natal  chart  reflects  how  you  see  yourself—your  inner  self  and  how  you  outwardly  express  that.  it’s  the  balance  between  your  personality's  essence  and  your  physical  appearance.  on  the  other  hand,  your  rising  in  the  ascendant  persona  chart  reveals  how  others  see  you,  how  you  come  across  to  them,  and  how  your  energy  is  perceived  by  the  world  around  you.

⋆⁺₊ take  me,  for  example.  in  my  natal  chart,  i’ve  got  gemini  rising,  so  i’m  talkative,  expressive,  and  always  buzzing  with  youthful  energy.  i  get  bored  easily  and  crave  mental  stimulation—constantly  chasing  new  knowledge,  exploring,  analyzing,  overthinking.  it’s  the  classic  curious  gemini  vibe.  but  then,  in  my  ascendant  persona  chart,  capricorn  rising  takes  over,  and  that’s  where  things  get  interesting.  now  i’m  seen  as  serious,  reserved,  and  cautious—basically  the  opposite  of  gemini’s  free-spirited  nature.  my  face  usually  looks  serious,  and  i’ve  been  called  “bitchy”  or  “mean,”  which  is  far  from  who  i  really  am. this  mix  of  gemini  and  capricorn  gives  me  versatility,  shifting  from  playful  curiosity  to  calm  maturity  depending  on  the  context.  in  most  situations,  that  capricorn  energy  takes  over.  funny  enough,  people  often  tell  me  i  ooze  with  capricorn  traits,  rather  than  the  gemini  ones  i  feel  inside.

✮ ARIES RISING IN APC you’ve  got  this  fearless,  bold  aura  that  immediately  grabs  attention.  no  hesitation,  no  fluff—just  straight-up  honesty  and  fiery  energy.  people  might  find  you  hot  and  a  little  intimidating,  especially  when  you  take  charge  and  lead  the  way.  conversation?  you’re  always  the  first  to  spark  it.  you  thrive  on  competition,  and  it  finds  its  way  to  you  naturally.  your  energy  is  magnetic—too  much  for  some,  but  others  can’t  help  but  be  drawn  in.  rebellious,  decisive,  and  independent,  you  crave  excitement,  new  experiences,  and  constant  movement.  your  actions  can  be  impulsive,  sometimes  reckless,  but  somehow  you  always  land  on  your  feet.  frustration  may  follow  when  things  don’t  move  as  fast  as  you'd  like,  but  chaos?  you  thrive  in  it.  you  radiate  sex  appeal  in  a  way  that  makes  heads  turn.

✮ TAURUS RISING IN APC you  have  that  cool,  composed  vibe  that  makes  everyone  feel  at  ease.  people  are  drawn  to  your  quiet,  sensual  beauty.  you  take  your  time  with  decisions,  always  careful  and  deliberate.  there's  a  calm,  almost  magnetic  confidence  about  you—it's  understated  yet  undeniably  powerful.  you  don’t  show  your  vulnerabilities  easily,  creating  a  sense  of  independence  and  self-sufficiency.  underneath  it  all,  though,  you’re  grounded  and  in  tune  with  what’s  real.  chaotic  spaces  drain  you,  but  you  bring  peace  and  comfort  to  others.  where  aries  is  all  flash,  you’re  slow,  steady,  and  enduring.  your  energy  is  soothing,  warm,  and  draws  people  in  without  trying.

✮ GEMINI RISING IN APC curiosity  and  communication  are  your  driving  forces.  even  if  you’re  not  the  most  social,  people  see  you  as  lively  and  engaging.  you’re  constantly  learning,  always  on  the  lookout  for  new  experiences.  your  energy  shifts  faster  than  anyone  can  keep  up,  and  your  quick  wit  makes  you  fun  to  be  around.  talkative,  expressive,  and  ever-restless,  you  might  leave  people  guessing  who  you  are.  you’re  full  of  surprises—constantly  changing,  adapting,  and  keeping  things  fresh.  your  style?  it  mirrors  your  personality—constantly  evolving.  you  can  be  self-conscious,  worrying  about  how  others  see  you,  but  your  charm  always  wins  them  over.

✮ CANCER RISING IN APC you  come  off  as  a  gentle,  nurturing  soul,  making  others  feel  safe  and  comfortable  around  you.  soft-spoken  but  never  weak,  you  have  a  quiet  strength.  mysterious,  private,  and  sometimes  moody,  you  might  not  reveal  everything  at  first,  leaving  people  curious.  you  feel  deeply,  and  sometimes,  that  causes  you  to  retreat  when  overwhelmed.  intimate  settings  feel  like  home,  but  you’re  also  more  social  than  most  realize.  there's  something  magnetic  about  your  warmth  and  sensitivity,  and  once  people  get  past  the  surface,  they  see  your  depth.  you’re  fiercely  protective  of  your  loved  ones  and  incredibly  loyal,  but  you  need  space  to  recharge.

✮ LEO RISING IN APC you  light  up  the  room  with  a  radiant,  magnetic  energy  that  can’t  be  ignored.  people  are  naturally  drawn  to  you—whether  it’s  your  loud,  expressive  nature  or  your  vibrant  charisma.  you’re  a  people  person  with  a  heart  of  gold,  always  bringing  excitement  and  joy  wherever  you  go.  there’s  an  artistic  side  to  you  that  shines  through,  whether  it’s  in  hobbies  or  raw  talent.  everyone  wants  to  be  around  you  because  you  make  them  feel  seen  and  heard.  you  lead  with  warmth,  generosity,  and  an  infectious  enthusiasm  that  makes  you  unforgettable.

✮ VIRGO RISING IN APC you  give  off  an  aura  of  quiet  confidence.  observant  and  thoughtful,  you  pay  attention  to  the  tiniest  details  others  miss.  reliable  and  practical,  you  get  things  done  without  needing  the  spotlight.  you’re  self-aware  and  often  find  yourself  analyzing  everything  in  your  path.  your  actions  speak  louder  than  words,  and  though  you  might  seem  busy,  you’re  always  on  top  of  everything.  stress  may  come  naturally,  but  so  does  your  knack  for  solving  problems  like  a  detective.  competent,  responsible,  and  always  prepared,  people  trust  you  to  handle  things  when  it  counts.

✮ LIBRA RISING IN APC people  can’t  help  but  be  drawn  to  you  with  your  natural  charm  and  ease  in  social  settings.  you  know  how  to  make  others  feel  comfortable  and  welcome,  and  your  sense  of  justice  makes  you  the  one  who  stands  up  for  what’s  right.  optimism  flows  from  you,  and  negativity  doesn’t  find  a  home  in  your  vibe.  though  you  radiate  kindness,  your  humor  can  be  surprisingly  dark.  you’re  dramatic  in  how  you  express  yourself,  and  you’re  always  quick  to  make  friends.  at  first,  you  give  people  everything,  but  it  can  take  time  for  them  to  truly  get  to  know  the  real  you.

✮ SCORPIO RISING IN APC there’s  a  magnetism  about  you,  one  that  pulls  people  in  or  pushes  them  away.  you  have  a  private,  mysterious  side,  and  your  calm,  composed  exterior  hides  a  fierce  emotional  depth.  you’re  not  easy  to  figure  out—your  thoughts  and  feelings  stay  under  lock  and  key.  but  those  who  earn  your  trust  find  an  incredibly  loyal,  intense  connection.  you’re  fiercely  protective  of  your  boundaries,  and  people  see  you  as  powerful  and  enigmatic.  your  intelligence  lets  you  see  through  people  and  situations,  and  your  empathy  allows  you  to  connect  deeply  with  those  close  to  you.  hardships  may  have  shaped  you,  but  you  wear  them  like  armor.

✮ SAGITTARIUS RISING IN APC optimistic,  adventurous,  and  always  on  the  lookout  for  something  new,  you  have  an  expansive  energy  that  makes  you  seem  larger-than-life.  you’re  always  in  search  of  meaning,  diving  deep  into  philosophy  or  spirituality.  straightforward  and  direct,  you  speak  your  mind  without  hesitation,  though  it  can  sometimes  come  off  as  blunt.  honesty  is  your  signature,  and  you’re  always  keeping  things  light  and  enjoyable.  family  matters  to  you  deeply,  and  you  expect  the  same  loyalty  and  support  you  give.

✮ CAPRICORN RISING IN APC you  might  come  off  as  serious  or  even  a  bit  distant,  with  a  reserved  vibe  that  gives  off  the  impression  of  someone  who's  always  in  work  mode.  people  might  mistake  you  for  constantly  unhappy,  but  that’s  just  the  exterior.  underneath,  you  have  a  quiet  strength  that  draws  people  in.  you’re  committed  to  your  passions  and  interests,  taking  them  seriously  and  with  a  focus  on  stability.  you’re  selective  about  the  people  you  let  into  your  life,  and  even  more  selective  about  what  you  share.  your  presence  can  be  intimidating,  but  those  who  get  past  your  guarded  exterior  see  your  reliable,  supportive  side.

✮ AQUARIUS RISING IN APC you  have  an  unconventional  energy  that  catches  people  off  guard.  a  little  aloof,  a  little  detached,  you  stand  out  without  even  trying.  independent  and  easygoing,  you  have  an  unpredictable  streak  that  keeps  people  guessing.  your  rebellious  side  can  make  you  seem  a  bit  dangerous,  and  you’re  always  changing  in  ways  others  don’t  expect.  you  connect  with  all  kinds  of  people,  from  all  walks  of  life,  effortlessly.  you’re  open-minded,  curious,  and  cool—like  a  more  laid-back,  intellectual  gemini.

✮ PISCES RISING IN APC gentle  and  empathetic,  you  have  an  approachable,  almost  ethereal  vibe.  you  make  people  feel  understood  without  saying  much.  your  kindness  and  compassion  are  evident  in  everything  you  do,  even  when  you  might  seem  a  bit  distant and disconnected.  you’re  highly  sensitive,  and  emotions  can  sometimes  overwhelm  you,  making  you  retreat  to  recharge.  you  live  in  your  own  world,  but  once  people  get  to  know  you,  they  see  a  different  side—one  that’s  outgoing,  bubbly,  and  full  of  life.  you’re  sweet,  and  your  energy  is  almost  ghost-like,  flowing  in  and  out  of  spaces,  leaving  a  trail  of  warmth  behind.

[scarletttries]

When Baldur's Gate 3 Companions Fall in Love...(Baldur's Gate 3 Request)

Pairings: Astarion x Reader, Wyll Ravengard x Reader, Gale Dekarios x Reader, Shadowheart x Reader, Karlach x Reader

Author's Note: It's been a while! I haven't posted in a while but I've got some time at the moment and I'm just finishing a first playthrough of BG3 so wanted to write some headcanons for our charming companions. Consider me open for any BG3 request too, let me know if you want to see more pieces like this :)

Astarion:

- Travelling with you makes Astarion feel grateful he's had hundreds of years to perfect his flirting technique. He knows exactly how to let you know what he's thinking without ever giving away too much of himself, how to flash his smile without ever lowering his guard. He thinks once again he knows exactly how to capture your attention, and possibly your body, without losing an ounce of control. That is until you say something that catches him completely off guard...

- "I'm really sorry to hear that." You should have laughed at his expense, his self-deprecating humour and haunted tales from his past worn like the toughest armour over silky open shirts. But you hadn't laughed, or scoffed, or replied with some equivalently sarcastic tone. Instead you'd offered empathy, a warm look and an extended hand that somehow didn't feel like pity to Astarion either.

"Well that's enough self-pity for tonight my dear." He quickly excused himself from the campfire, turning his back as he entered his tent to hide any visible blush his cheeks may muster from the way you said good night. Of course his blood didn't circulate that way any more, but he was almost sure he could feel his heart rising in his chest as it had when he was still a mortal man. No, this didn't feel right at all.

- It would be easy for Astarion to pretend he was only interested in a night of carnal pleasures with you because of all the beauty you possess, and he'll let everyone else think him a shallow man just the same. But when he lets his mind wander freely it's your kindness he finds himself dwelling on, or your firm but fair moral code that seems to carry you through these intrepid lands without doubt or tribulation. He almost wishes he had met you sooner, so sure that his life (and after-life) could have turned out quite different with you by his side at those strange early steps.

- Suddenly all his effortless flirting feels a lot more challenging and he can't decide if he should risk a small amount of sincerity to let you know how we feels, or just to double down on letting you know one night with him would ruin you for any other lover. Luckily both approaches are met with the affection he craves, and slowly but surely Astarion starts to feel like he might be able to have something real for once.

Wyll:

- Ever the hopeless romantic, Wyll was already a firm believer in love at first sight by the time he ran into you and experienced it firsthand. He fears he cannot be too bold, his staunch commitment to his duties governing his life in a way that does not leave much room for any other kind of commitment. He tries to let his feelings settle at the back of his mind, in the hopes that in time they will become nothing but a dull ache he can learn to live with.

- That could not be less of the case for poor Wyll though, your face filling his every nightly dream and your voice echoing through his mind in every moment of silence. His heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing day you travel together and soon it feels almost inevitable that he will be yours, even if he can't quite bring himself to admit it yet. Once he has accepted that thought he must wrestle with the possibility that you might not feel the same and you will be added to his list of those he cares for most that have rejected him with scorn.

- Still he lets the lighter thoughts carry him through the toughest of times; what it might be like to hear you offer your own feelings back, how it would feel to see you smile only for him, what kind of life the two of you might be able to build in a simpler times, what he could finally do if you agreed to a wedding night together. He lets himself ruminate on that more often that he'd like to admit, all gentlemanly efforts banished from his mind when he sees you walk around his camp.

- While he builds up the courage to make his feelings known, you might catch him practicing the steps of an intricate dance one night when he thinks everyone is fast asleep.

Gale:

- Gale has known love and loss before, the intensity of his past life making him consider keeping his heart closed off from others forevermore. But the gods have a funny way of keeping Gale on his toes, and introducing him to you certainly did that.

- At first you are just the warmest of friends to him: an ever-willing audience for his lifetime of tales and knowledge, a reliable companion for the throes of battle, a selfless treasure seeker who helps him fend off hunger. But over time he finds himself desperately scanning his mind for more and more facts that it would be worth waking you up to share, more tales to capture your attention, anything the two of you might do together to keep your focus on him and no one else.

- It's about when he wonders if the two of you might just camp in one tent together, that he realises he no longer views you as simply his closest friend. No, you have long passed that threshold into an entirely new realm of love. It feels so different to anything he has felt before, like your company is the warmest summer breeze after decades of stormy lightning in his heart. It feels safe and easy to be with you, like he could be content with almost nothing as long as you were by his side, looking at him with your near endless appreciation. Gale can't be sure exactly what to do about it, but he hopes the next time you draw back the opening on your tent and usher him in for another night of exchanging tales, that you might permit him to never leave.

Shadowheart:

- It's hard to know love when you barely know yourself. That's what Shadowheart tells herself when she finds her mind wandering back to you after your memorable first impression. She has so much to learn about herself, and while she's grateful for the reliable company and kind sounding-board you provide, there's simply no room in her life for anything more.

- And yet the more she uncovers about herself, the more important it seems to have you by her side. It's like she cannot exist in this new fully realised version of herself if she doesn't know you. If she doesn't get to see herself through your eyes, to hear what you think, to have your presence beside her as he continues to take more and more steps forward down this path home.

- Without ever trying you have become the other half of Shadowheart, and by the time she realises it, she knows you must have the same awareness. There could be no way that you aren't as in tune to the depth of your bond as she is, leaving her only one question. Not if to address it. But when.

Karlach:

- Though Karlach may not have a traditional heart anymore, she is more than capable of falling for the travelling companion that seems to bring out the best in her at every step. After years spent working for the devil and his underlings, having someone in her life that strives to make the world better and put her strength to good use is like the first sip of water after countless nights in the arid desert of the hells.

- Karlach knows she's as strong as they come, so she finds her eyes frantically searching you out in battle, pushing herself on and raging forwards to always keep you safe, to get you behind her, to make sure you go on to keep her company another day.

- Her time in this plane of existence may be more limited than some of the other characters, but that only means Karlach knows how important it is to truly 'live.' While the other companions may bide their time and carefully deliberate how best to inform you of their inconvenient feelings, when Karlach knows your heart is true, she's going to let you know she is all yours at the earliest, and steamiest, opportunity.

[solxamber]

Royal Scandal- Ruggie Bucchi x reader

You're being forced to marry someone to take the throne you've fought your entire life for. Okay, if that's how it is, you'll make sure to choose the one person here that your dearest parents will disapprove of the most.

I really like how this one turned out!

The ballroom was resplendent, filled with swirling silks, dazzling jewels, and a sea of royals from every corner of the world. It was your nightmare, distilled into one room. You stood at the head of the grand staircase, glaring down at the crowd, feeling utterly betrayed by your parents.

You—the crown heir, a skilled warrior, a tactical genius, and the pride of your kingdom—reduced to nothing more than a prize in a political matchmaking game. It was an insult.

“Really?” you muttered to yourself, grip tightening on the bannister. “They think they can push me into marriage to take the throne? They’ll regret this.”

From across the room, the usual parade of suitors hovered about, each one vying for a moment of your attention. They were all here to win your hand, though it was clear many of them weren’t here for you. The throne, the kingdom, the alliances—it was all just a game of power to them.

And then there was him. The only non-royal standing awkwardly by the hors d'oeuvres table. Ruggie Bucchi.

Ruggie was here because of Leona, and Leona was here because Falena had pawned off the responsibility of attending this ridiculous event onto his younger brother. But as usual, Leona wasn’t particularly interested in mingling with anyone. He had quickly made his way to the most comfortable couch in the room, leaving his attendant Ruggie to do all the heavy lifting—literally. Ruggie was managing Leona’s food, drinks, and handling the other guests with a sharp smile that concealed just how little he wanted to be here.

Leona had been an unexpected ally ever since your diplomatic trip to the Savannah, where your banter had somehow sparked an unlikely friendship. Leona, for all his royal airs, had grown fond of teasing you relentlessly, and the two of you exchanged jabs every chance you got.

You've met Ruggie before, during the visit. You knew of his circumstances and a wonderful plan was brewing inside you at this moment.

Ruggie wasn’t a suitor. He wasn’t even remotely interested in this ball. And yet…

A grin began to spread across your face.

Oh, this could work.

The next morning, the grand hall was packed with suitors, ministers, and your parents, all eagerly awaiting your declaration. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a sword.

“Today,” your father began with his booming voice, “our heir will announce their chosen partner. We know that this decision will aid in the prosperity of our kingdom.”

Your mother nodded, casting you a pointed look, as if to remind you of the importance of this moment. Oh, if only she knew what was coming.

You stepped forward, scanning the room with a serene smile. Your heart raced with excitement as you looked past all the anxious, hopeful suitors. Finally, your gaze landed on Ruggie, who stood in the corner, shoving the last of a sandwich into his mouth. He caught your eye, freezing mid-chew.

You raised a hand, pointing directly at him. “I have chosen Ruggie Bucchi.”

There was a deafening beat of silence before your declaration actually registered.

Your parents’ smiles froze, the air in the room turning cold. The ministers paled, their gazes snapping toward Ruggie, who was standing in the back, his next sandwich halfway to his mouth. He blinked, looking over his shoulder like you couldn’t possibly mean him. Maybe there was a “Ruggie Bucchi” that he didn’t know about?

But the world stopped when it hit that yes, you did mean that Ruggie Bucchi—the hyena from the slums of the Sunset Savanna who had no royal blood, no land to offer, no armies. Just a cunning smile and a love for free food.

Leona, sitting lazily on the side, blinked at you before letting out a sudden burst of laughter, the sound echoing through the hall. His usual smirk widened into something truly wicked as he turned to your parents with a shrug. “Well, what did you expect? You did say they could choose anyone in the room, didn’t you?”

Your parents were speechless, their faces a mix of horror and disbelief. Your mother looked like she might faint, and your father sputtered, glancing between you and Ruggie, who still hadn’t moved from his spot at the back of the room. He slowly lowered the sandwich, looking very much like he was rethinking every life choice he had ever made.

Leona, never one to miss an opportunity for chaos, leaned back in his chair and grinned even wider. “It would be a shame if you went back on your word now. After all, it was very clear—whoever they chose, right? I’m sure the esteemed royals wouldn’t go back on a promise they made to their only heir in front of all these witnesses.”

Your father’s mouth opened and closed, his face rapidly turning a shade of purple as he tried to find words that wouldn’t cause a diplomatic disaster. Your mother’s eyes darted around the room, probably searching for an escape route. Meanwhile, the ministers exchanged horrified glances, clearly trying to figure out how to spin this in a way that wouldn’t end in utter embarrassment.

Leona, of course, wasn’t done yet. “You know,” he added, casually inspecting his nails, “a promise is a promise. And from where I’m sitting, it looks like Ruggie here’s your new royal consort.” His eyes sparkled with mirth, clearly loving every second of the madness you'd just incited. “After all, we wouldn’t want to insult the future ruler’s decision, right?”

You could practically see your parents’ souls leaving their bodies.

Ruggie, to his credit, finally stopped gaping like a fish and straightened up, wiping crumbs from his vest and putting on a cocky grin, like he had totally planned for this from the start. “Welp, looks like I’m movin’ up in the world,” he said, swaggering forward, though the slight wobble in his step gave away his shock. He shot Leona and you a glance that screamed, Why are you doing this to me? But Leona just gave him a lazy shrug in response, clearly enjoying the show. And you just grinned back at him.

Your mother finally found her voice, though it was shaky at best. “This… this can’t be—”

“Oh, but it can.” your voice cut through the hall, smooth as silk and twice as smug. “You said anyone. Don’t tell me you’re regretting those words now?”

Your father visibly swallowed, realizing the bind he was in. The ministers were sweating bullets, clearly hoping someone else would step in and stop this disaster, but no one dared to speak. After all, it would be political suicide to go against a future ruler’s decision in front of a room full of witnesses.

Ruggie had now reached the front, his grin widening as he gave a quick, exaggerated bow to you, looking for all the world like a cat that had just caught a very large mouse. “Guess I’m your guy now, huh?”

You flashed him a triumphant smile, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Looks like it.”

Your father, still in a state of shock, muttered something about tradition, but it was too late. The damage was done. You had chosen Ruggie, and with Leona egging on the entire thing, there was no way they could take it back without creating an uproar.

Leona, still lounging like the king of chaos he was, gave you a little salute. “Congrats to the happy couple. Can’t wait to see the wedding.”

Your parents looked like they might faint. The suitors—well, some of them looked relieved to not be part of this train wreck, but others were trying very hard not to burst into outrage. Ruggie just stood there, now fully committed to the bit, his grin as wide as ever.

And so, with your parents begrudgingly forced to accept your choice, the announcement was made. You had successfully thrown the entire royal court into chaos, and judging by the look on your face, this was far from over.

As for Ruggie, well, he was already calculating how much food he could swindle from the wedding feast.

After the uproar finally died down, and the ministers and royals reluctantly dispersed—each with their own whispers and murmurs of the chaos that had just ensued—you managed to pull Ruggie aside, away from the prying eyes of the court. His expression was still a mix of disbelief and amusement, as though he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what had just happened.

“Well, that was something,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I’ve had some wild gigs before, but to be the royal consort? That’s a new one.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his casual tone, even as the situation around you felt anything but. You led him into one of the side corridors, away from the grand hall, before stopping to face him. Ruggie crossed his arms, clearly curious about where this was going. “Alright, spill it. What’s the deal here?”

You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. “I know that whole declaration just now was insane, but I had to do something drastic.”

“Yeah, drastic is one way to put it,” he snickered, leaning against the wall, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m the only heir to the throne,” you began, the frustration in your voice evident. “I’ve trained my whole life for this. The swordsmanship, the diplomacy, the studies. I’ve done it all. But my parents—” you trailed off, your voice tight with anger, “—they won’t let me take the throne unless I get married. It’s ridiculous. I don’t need to get married to rule, but they refuse to see that.”

Ruggie tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “So, what? You picked me just to get them off your back?”

“Exactly.” You smiled, but it was more cunning than genuine. “They’re too stuck in their ways to listen to reason, so I decided to make them regret forcing me into this. That’s where you come in.”

His ears twitched in curiosity, though the grin on his face was as sharp as ever. “And what exactly do I get out of this?”

You took a step closer, lowering your voice to ensure no one overheard. “I need you to play along with this marriage for a year. Just a year. By that time, I’ll have stabilized the kingdom, taken the throne officially, and you’ll be free to leave. No strings attached.”

Ruggie’s eyes narrowed as he considered your words. “And what do I get in return?”

“The wealth you’ll get out of this will set you up for life. I’m talking more money than you’ll know what to do with. You’ll never have to worry about another odd job or scrape together food again. After this year, you can go back to the Sunset Savanna, and you’ll have enough to take care of yourself, your community, your grandmother—whoever. You’ll never have to work again.”

Ruggie raised a brow, a flicker of interest in his eyes. He was a practical guy, after all, and if there was one thing that motivated him, it was a good deal. “And all I have to do is pretend to be your royal husband for a year?”

“Yep,” you confirmed with a nod, crossing your arms. “Think of it as the best con of your life. We’ll fake the marriage, play the part for a year, and then when it’s over, you’re free to go with a fortune in your pocket.”

For a moment, Ruggie was silent, his sharp gaze studying you, likely weighing the pros and cons of this insane proposal. “So, you’re basically hiring me to be your fake spouse.”

“Exactly.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “You know, this is probably one of the most ridiculous offers I’ve ever gotten—and I’ve been offered some weird stuff before—but,” he shrugged, “money’s money. And if it means I get to live easy after this, then I’m in.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relief washing over you. “So, we have a deal?”

Ruggie chuckled, extending his hand to you. “We have a deal. But don’t expect me to go easy on the royal kitchens while I’m here. I’m gonna milk this for all it’s worth.”

You smirked, shaking his hand. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Ruggie’s grin turned mischievous as he added, “And don’t worry. I’ll play the part of the perfect doting husband. We’ll give ‘em a show they’ll never forget.”

With the deal struck, you both walked back into the palace, the weight of the future ahead not lost on you. A fake marriage with Ruggie Bucchi—one year, just one year, and then you’d be free. What could possibly go wrong?

Except, somewhere deep inside, you had a feeling that the real challenge wasn’t in the act itself—it was in not falling for the witty, resourceful hyena at your side.

Your wedding was the most extravagant affair your kingdom had ever seen. You spared no expense, throwing the grandest celebration imaginable, just to rub it in a little more. Lavish decorations, exotic foods, and a royal procession that stretched for miles.

Ruggie, for his part, looked both delighted and completely out of place as he stood beside you during the ceremony. He leaned over at one point, whispering, “I’ve never been this well-dressed in my life. You sure we’re not overdoing it?”

You grinned, adjusting his ornate cape. “If we’re going to make them suffer, we might as well go all out.”

The priest, an elderly man with a tremble in his voice, stood before the two of you, his wrinkled hands holding the ceremonial scroll. His voice was deep, reverent, and filled with emotion—entirely too much emotion for the farce that was about to unfold.

You felt a little sorry for him, considering that he was the one who taught you the scriptures and history of your nation when you were younger, one of the only people to see you for you instead of the "heir". But you knew the next part was going to be hilarious.

“We gather here today,” the priest began, “to unite these two souls in the eternal bond of marriage.”

You dared a glance at your parents, sitting stiffly at the front row, their faces a mixture of horror and resignation. The ministers were whispering frantically among themselves, occasionally darting their eyes towards you and Ruggie as if hoping this was all a nightmare they’d soon wake up from. The absolute satisfaction you felt seeing them squirm almost made this whole ridiculous charade worth it.

But the best part? Leona. Sitting at the back, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with the effort to keep from bursting out in laughter. Every now and then, you could hear a muffled snort escape him, and you had to fight the urge to look back at him. One glance, and you’d both be done for.

“And now,” the priest continued, oblivious to the brewing chaos, “the couple will exchange their vows.”

You took a deep breath, turning to face Ruggie. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly with suppressed laughter. His eyes met yours, and you could see the absolute glee dancing in them. This was going to be ridiculous.

You cleared your throat and began, doing your best to sound as dramatic and sincere as possible. “Ruggie Bucchi, from the moment I saw you,” you paused, a wave of barely-contained laughter bubbling up in your chest, “I knew you were the one destined for me. Your… resourcefulness, your… cunning, your ability to stretch a loaf of bread for days… it all captivated my heart.”

Ruggie’s eyes widened slightly at that, and you saw his lips twitch as he struggled not to laugh. You forged on.

“I vow to cherish every moment we spend together, whether it’s in the royal kitchen, watching you devour a feast meant for ten people, or in the court, where I know you’ll always have some… crafty solution to every problem.” You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face as you added, “I promise to never let a day go by without admiring your thriftiness.”

You finished with a flourish, and the nuns and priests in the room were openly weeping, clutching their hearts as though your “love” had moved them to tears. It was a struggle to not just burst out laughing at the scene. The more you spoke, the more ridiculous it all felt, and you swore you could hear Leona snickering from the back, not even trying to hide it anymore.

Ruggie cleared his throat, taking his turn, his voice as smooth and exaggerated as possible. “Your Highness,” he began, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. “From the moment you dragged me into this—” he coughed, “I mean, the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special. You’re not like other royals,” he said, the smirk on his face just barely concealed. “No, you’re so… generous. So thoughtful. Offering me all the wealth I could ever dream of—”

You gave him a small nudge with your elbow, and he winked at you before continuing.

“I vow to stand by your side, no matter how absurd the situation.” His grin widened, his voice growing more theatrical with each word. “I’ll be there when the royal chefs burn your food, when the ministers drive you mad with their endless meetings, and most importantly, I’ll make sure there’s always a way out of any mess you get into—royal or otherwise.”

The priest was dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief, clearly moved beyond words by the display of "eternal love" unfolding before him. The nuns were practically clutching their rosaries, and one of the ministers was furiously scribbling notes, perhaps planning to write a memoir about this "historic" union.

But you could feel Ruggie shaking with barely-contained laughter beside you, and you knew he was struggling just as much as you were.

Leona, meanwhile, was not helping.

“Isn’t this just the most touching thing you’ve ever seen?” Leona called from the back, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stood up and clapped once, slowly. “I mean, who could have predicted such true love would bloom in the royal court? Makes you wonder why we ever doubted them.”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and sure enough, Leona’s face was barely composed, his smirk broad as he leaned against the back wall. He mouthed, “Go on, keep it up,” as if he was daring you both to escalate the absurdity.

Ruggie, never one to miss an opportunity, took the challenge.

“And, in return for your endless affection,” Ruggie continued, placing his hand dramatically over his heart, “I swear to be the most diligent husband this kingdom has ever seen. I will work tirelessly—mostly to keep you out of trouble, but also to ensure that you never have to lift a finger. You’ll never have to worry about running out of your precious riches, or losing your crown jewels, because I’ll be there to safeguard every coin.”

He shot you a playful wink before finishing with, “And of course, I’ll always be ready to take off with you when things get a little too… boring around here.”

The priest, overcome with emotion, was full-on sobbing now, while your parents sat pale-faced, probably wondering what cosmic force they had offended to end up in this situation.

The room erupted into applause, and Leona, now clapping with a wide grin, leaned over to one of the younger nobles. “You’ll tell the archivists that the vows were this good, right? Might as well get all the details in there.”

Your parents couldn’t even muster a response. They sat rigidly, eyes flickering from you to Ruggie, to the now entirely tearful congregation. The sight of the priests and nuns weeping, utterly convinced by your "heartfelt" vows, was the icing on the cake. You could almost hear the grinding of your father’s teeth from where you stood, and your mother’s strained smile looked one twitch away from cracking.

By the time the priest finally declared your union, both you and Ruggie were barely keeping it together. The ceremony had transformed into a spectacle of ridiculous proportions, and you weren’t sure if anyone could really tell if the applause was genuine or just out of sheer disbelief.

When the final words of the ceremony were spoken and you were “officially” bound together, Ruggie turned to you with a grin so wide it could only be described as mischievous.

“Well, Your Majesty,” he whispered, loud enough for you alone to hear, “we really pulled it off. But I think I deserve a bonus after that performance.”

You stifled a laugh, giving him a light shove. “Wait until after the banquet. I’ll have them send extra desserts to your room as compensation.”

And with that, the two of you walked down the aisle, the very picture of an odd, unexpected royal match.

Leona gave you both a mock bow from the back as you passed by, still laughing silently to himself as the ministers and nobles exchanged bewildered glances.

The following weeks were a blur of royal duties, much to Ruggie’s bemusement. He followed you around, trying to figure out how he ended up playing the role of a royal consort.

“So,” Ruggie said one evening as he flopped down onto the couch in your chambers, “I gotta admit, I thought this was gonna be way worse. I mean, I’m not exactly cut out for all this fancy stuff, but the food? The food is incredible.”

You chuckled, sitting beside him. “Well, it’s only for a year. Then you’ll be free, and you’ll never have to deal with this nonsense again.”

Ruggie shot you a grin. “You’re counting down the days already?”

You smirked. “Aren’t you?”

He shrugged, his grin softening. “Honestly? You’re not as bad as I thought. Could’ve ended up with someone way more annoying.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully. “Gee, thanks.”As the months went on, something strange began to happen. The more time you spent with Ruggie, the more comfortable things felt. Sure, it had started as a deal—a way to get what you wanted—but somewhere along the way, the lines began to blur.

Ruggie was surprisingly good company. His sharp wit and laid-back attitude were a refreshing change from the stiff, formal interactions you were used to with the other royals. He was resourceful, quick-thinking, and even though he constantly complained about the pomp and ceremony of royal life, he never once let you down.

Then there was the way he treated you. Not as a royal, not as some prized heir—but as you. He teased you, made you laugh, and shared stories about his home and his grandma with such affection that it warmed your heart.

Speaking of his grandma, the first time you visited her, she welcomed you with open arms. She was sharp-tongued and quick-witted, much like her grandson, and the two of you hit it off immediately.

“Oh, so you’re the one who roped my boy into this fancy business?” she had said with a cackle, patting your hand. “Well, you’ve got my approval, sweetheart. Just make sure you keep him in line.”

Ruggie groaned, slumping in his chair. “Grams, please…”

As the year drew closer to its end, you found yourself dreading the day Ruggie would leave. You didn’t want him to go. You didn’t want this to end.

The anniversary of your marriage was fast approaching, and your stomach twisted into knots every time you thought about it. Tomorrow, Ruggie would be free to go, just like you promised. A year of playing the perfect royal consort, and it would all be over. He’d get his freedom, you’d get the throne.

So why did the thought of him leaving make you want to scream into a pillow?

You paced your chambers like a caged animal, mentally kicking yourself. You were supposed to be a genius tactician. Yet here you were, spiraling into an emotional wreck because of one laid-back, cunning hyena.

The door creaked open, and Ruggie strolled in with his usual smirk. “You’re pacing. Never seen you this jittery before. What’s up?”

You froze mid-step, spinning to face him. Your mind was a mess of conflicting emotions. How were you supposed to say this? Should you ease him into it? Throw him off with a joke? No, definitely not the joke. He’d roast you for it.

Ruggie raised an eyebrow. “Uh, you good? You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

You blurted out, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Ruggie blinked. Twice. Then blinked again like he was trying to reboot. “Come again?”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you repeated, feeling your palms start to sweat. You took a breath, stepping closer to him. “Tomorrow, you’re free to go, just like we agreed. But I… I don’t want you to. Somewhere along the line, this stopped being just a deal for me. I—I love you, Ruggie.”

Ruggie just stared at you, mouth slightly open like you’d just asked him to wear a ballgown and perform ballet in the throne room. Then he blinked again. “Wait… what?”

You closed your eyes. “You heard me.”

“I think I need to hear it again because there’s no way you just said that,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to get his brain working again.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I. Love. You.”

Ruggie stood there, looking like you just grew a second head. “Hold on, you’re serious?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m being serious!”

Ruggie scratched his cheek, looking away as if he was still processing. “Well, damn. Didn’t expect that.” Then he met your eyes again, his usual grin faltering slightly. “You really love me?”

You nodded, feeling your heart pound. “Yes. And I can’t imagine you not being here. Not as some royal consort, but… just as you.”

Ruggie stared at you for a long moment, before he let out a quiet chuckle. “Y’know… I didn’t plan on this either. This was supposed to be a quick gig, get some cash, eat some fancy food, and bounce. But… well, you’re not like the other royals. You’re kinda fun to be around.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Kinda?”

“Okay, fine, a lotta fun. Happy?” He grinned.

You punched him lightly on the arm. “Not the point!”

He laughed, rubbing his arm dramatically. “Ow, inflicting pain already? But nah, seriously… You’re different. And I guess I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you if I actually left.”

Your heart flipped. “So… you’ll stay?”

Ruggie let out a sigh, but there was a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I’ll stay. I mean, how can I leave behind someone who lets me sneak pastries from the royal kitchens without ratting me out?”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated but relieved. “That’s what you’re staying for?”

He laughed, pulling you into a loose, playful hug. “Nah, it’s one of the perks though.”

You rested your head against his, feeling your worries melt away. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh, you better. I’m expecting a raise and benefits.” He teased, planting a quick kiss on your cheek.

You smirked, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “Benefits? What are you, my royal accountant?”

“Hey, I gotta get something outta this deal.” He grinned wider. “And speaking of, I plan on eating you out of house and home from now on. Just a heads up, Your Majesty.”

You groaned, swatting him on the arm again. “That’s already happening, Ruggie!”

“I mean even more now. You’ve created a monster.” He laughed, pulling you closer again, his nose nuzzling into your hair. “But seriously… I didn’t think this would happen either. Us. But I’m glad it did.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth. “Me too.”

As you stood there in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but think about how far you’d come from that deal. What started as a scheme to outsmart your parents had turned into something real, something you hadn’t expected, but something you wouldn’t trade for the world.

And as Ruggie’s laughter echoed in the room, you realized that maybe, just maybe, plans falling apart wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“Well,” Ruggie said, smirking at you. “Guess I’m stuck with you now, huh?”

You chuckled, leaning into him. “Yeah, but admit it—you love it.”

He kissed your other cheek, his voice soft but teasing. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.”

And with that, you knew inciting that royal scandal was the best thing you could've ever done.

Masterlist

I don't know why but this is the fic that I like the most out of everything I've written lol it was supposed me like 2k words but I couldn't stop and this was born.

[sansuri]

𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 | 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

Arranged marriage | gojo x indifferent!wife | MDNI

WARNINGS: 1.3k, you guys have a child together, reader is wearing a sundress, subtle suggestive thoughts, infidelity

Synopsis: Gojo’s little family takes a trip to the beach collecting sea glass. Maybe this time, Gojo might finally get that kiss he’s wanted?

Prev: His Wife

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“Satoru, bend down for me.”

Gojo looks at you, a bit of surprise is laced over his face as he bends down to your level, waiting curiously of what you were going to do. You softly move a piece of stray hair out of his face, smoothing out the flyways of his hair, a result of the ocean wind riling it up. A soft crimson tints his handsome face and ears.

God, did he feel like the biggest asshole for this whole predicament. You didn’t deserve any of what he was doing, even if you weren’t aware of the greatest sin he was committing, yet here you were, innocently standing there, oblivious to all the wrongdoings he had done, especially to you as your husband.

Did you know that just days earlier, he was fucking the maid in the room next to yours? “Fuck,” he cursed himself under his breath. He really was a dick in this marriage. You were nothing but a perfect wife for him, yet Gojo was anything but perfect for you.

“There,” you say softly, taking a step back to gaze at the appearance of your husband. It was quite a shame that his handsome face was ruined by his brash behavior. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have been so hard to like.

Your focus is shifted back to your child, who happily babbles at the feeling of sand between his toes, picking up shells as he stomps happily within the puddles of the tide pools. Your baby was a perfect mixture of you and Gojo, taking on your husband’s playful nature, while also having your kindhearted and quiet nature.

Although you paid no mind to your husband watching you from afar, the sight of you made him feel warm within his chest, a fluttering sensation at the sight of your look today. He grew to adore the sight of his family, especially you, yet you continued to have no interest in him but your shared child.

Nonetheless, Gojo had to admit that you were quite the scene at the beach. Your sundress fit on your curves beautifully, flowing gently in the ocean breeze as it hugged around your bosom elegantly, making any sane man grovel at the sight.

Gojo smoothly wraps an arm around your waist as you follow your child, noticing the way your body tenses at his touch. The white haired man is an observant husband of course, noticing just how your body reacts to his touch, even when in bed. However, he pouts silently at your reaction, lingering his hand on your waist, in hopes of still being physically connected with you somehow.

Your child distracts Gojo with a hermit crab, picking it up and gurgling as he shows both you and Satoru the crab crawling on his chubby hand. You silently gasp, smiling as the sweet boy gently places the hermit crab down, tugging at his father’s sleeve to show his dad where he put the tiny crab back. Satoru grins at his son, “yeah?” He says in his husky voice, one that has women crawling at his feet, but you seemed to have been an exception.

“Why don’t you go find a pretty sea glass for your mom next?” He chuckles softly, nudging his son to send him off on his next adventure. His son nods excitedly, already tottering to his next mission. You eye Satoru, that look of “really?” on your face as your son wobbles off further in front of you, adamantly glaring at the sand in hopes of finding that pretty sea glass you seemed to adore more than your husband.

Gojo smirks, nodding as he watches his son trail in front of him. “I want some alone time with my wife.” He says nonchalantly, a smile still on his face, pulling you closer by the waist, leaning forward to place a kiss on your pretty lips, but yet again, you turn your face quite casually, his incoming kiss landing on the corner of your lips instead.

A look of sadness, masked by a half-hearted smile appears on his face. He nudges his face in your neck, sighing softly at your avoidance.

“You make this so hard sweetheart.” He breathes softly on your neck, sounding desperate, nipping at the tenderness of your skin there. Your breath hitches subtly, one that Gojo relishes in silently. What would you look like if you let him mark you up there? Would you release those pretty little sighs and whines? You allowed him to mark you in the lower region between your thighs, but why not up? He wanted a way to show that your intimacy was of existence even after the moment, one that even your thin sundress couldn’t cover.

Even so, you ignored his comment, placing your hands on his chest as a way of distancing yourself from him. “Behave.” You tell him with a gentle sternness in your voice, clearly trying to avoid the affections of your husband. The women on the beach otherwise find the scene to be of a loving husband and wife, admiring the sweetness of your husband. You and Satoru were far from lovers, well one-sided lovers at least.

Just then, your son tugs on the chiffon of your dress, his small hand lifting a single piece of worn down glass from the waves of the sea. You marvel at the piece of white sea glass in his hand. There may have been an abundance of sea glass on the beach, but this was one that your precious child had found. One that you would treasure as a memory piece.

“Awe, Naoki.” You bent down to the level of your son. “I love it.” You pet the fluffy hair of your son, placing a motherly kiss on his cheek, one that he relishes in happily, giggling.

Gojo watches the sight unfold, wishing silently that you were open to giving him kisses as you were to your son. He watches in silent envy, ruffling the head of his son, a smile of “good job” on his father’s face.

Naoki continues to pick sea glass, kneeling down in the sand to carefully seek for anything buffed and smoothed by the sea. You remain watching, crouching down to fetch a shell that caught your sight. While you were distracted, Naoki tugs on his father’s pants. Satoru was enamored, watching your figure marvel at the sight of the newfound shell, eyes widening at the tug of his son, quickly turning his attention to the toddler’s hand that held a piece of pink sea glass.

His son places the pink piece of glass in his hand, gesturing towards his mother, who remained fixed on the shell. Gojo instantly connected the dots, understanding that his son wanted him to bring it to his mother. He smiles affectionately, ruffling the head of his son again. What a smart boy.

Gojo, almost too excitedly, closes the distance between you two, waiting patiently for you to notice that he was holding something for you. Attentive as you are, you stand back up, looking curiously at your husband’s puppyish look.

He opens the palm of his hand, revealing the pink sea glass. Your eyes widen ever so subtly, your hand reaching to lift the piece up to the skyline to admire its color. “Pink sea glass is rare to come by.” There’s a soft smile on your face, one that Gojo can’t help but reciprocate the same genuine smile back.

“Do I get a kiss now?” He asks innocently, a genuine tone lacing his voice, asking silently in fear of being rejected.

Your eyes have a subtle hesitance, quickly recovering as you place the sea glass in the tiny baggie of yours, complying and gently grabbing your husband’s face, which he happily envelops your waist with his hands, leaning closer to make easy access for you. You gently place a chaste kiss on his lips, to which he hums softly into, relishing in the feel of your soft and gentle lips. Your touch was addicting, and Gojo could only hope for this to happen more often. Would you some day eventually kiss him everyday like you meant it? Genuinely? Like true husband and wife?

“Thank you.” You say quietly, almost afraid of disturbing your initial peace.

Even after separating, Gojo can’t seem to have enough of you, and there’s a clear look of lust on his face. God, was he so far deep in this.

“Of course sweetheart.” He lifts your face once more, placing another gentle kiss on your soft lips.

And this time, you let him. Just this once.

[shomatoriashi]

10/26/24; 06:50pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you wake up in the middle of the night ]

featuring: itoshi rin; itoshi sae (separate drabbles)

notes / warnings: potentially ooc.

a sudden breeze was felt coursing through you, making your skin erupt in goosebumps as you lay close to the open window. your body shivers in response to such a sensation, and when you shift in bed, you felt your nose land against a hard wall of muscle.

your eyes were hazy, slowly opening up to see the young man sleeping beside you. warmth was felt against your cheeks, and your mouth turns dry at seeing rin sleeping so peacefully.

even with his eyes hidden beneath trembling lids, he was still so beautiful to you. with his hair fanned out beneath him like a soft halo, you couldn’t stop the sensation in your hands and how they itched with the need to reach out and touch him.

you lift your hand, hesitating for a brief moment before gingerly threading your fingertips through his hair. feeling your smile widen at the silky feel of his tresses-

but when his eyes suddenly open, revealing startling teal orbs meeting your gaze, you swore you could feel your heart jump into the confines of your throat.

“r-rin!”

you watch as his lips part, letting out a yawn before lazily bringing you closer to his chest. your heart was still racing, with your hands clinging to the front of his shirt when you shakily ask, “i’m sorry, did i wake you up?”

“no.” rin’s answer was succinct, yet maintaining a sleepy quality as it was clear that your boyfriend was still exhausted. “i woke up when i felt you ram into me.”

“h-hey i did not ram into you!” you admit with a pout, “i just felt cold after that breeze.”

rin simply lets out a hum in response, wrapping his arms behind your back before pulling you closer to him. upon feeling his warmth seeping into you, you visibly relax against him. letting out a purr of his name, you giggle all while pressing a kiss against his chest.

registering the feeling of your lips on his body makes rin respond beautifully to you. the slight hitch in his breathing coupled along with the rapid beating of his heart was enough to make you break out into a grin.

you had no idea how lucky you were to be this intimate with rin. even when he had no interest in building relationships and forming bonds with others-

somehow, you were lucky enough to get through his skin, managing to break down the walls he had oh so carefully built around himself with a single smile and soft touch.

“sleep, i’ll keep you warm.” rin tells you in a sleepy whisper while letting out a murmur of your name. surrounded by his comforting scent, you close your eyes and allow yourself to sleep once more all while in rin’s protective embrace.

when sae took you out to eat at one of your favorite restaurants for your one year anniversary, you weren’t expecting to feel so thirsty later that night.

the memory of such a delicious meal was enough to make you smile, yet your throat felt absolutely parched afterwards. due to how tired you both felt after your date, you fell asleep with sae just mere hours after returning home.

yet now, you felt a quickly mounting thirst that threatens to consume you, making you squirm a bit beneath sae’s embrace. letting out a soft moan, you open your eyes and lick at your bottom lip, feeling how chapped they were.

looking back, you were happy to see your lover still asleep, with only a single arm wrapped loosely around you. grateful that his hold wasn’t too tight, you carefully attempt to remove yourself from his embrace.

and when you felt your bare feet land against the hardwood flooring of your bedroom, you nearly danced in celebration, ready to make a beeline toward the kitchen had it not been for the large hand that was felt gripping at your wrist.

you gasp, suddenly falling back in bed as lips were felt latching on to the back of your neck along with a pair of arms that keeps your form tightly against him, “mmm, where do you think you’re going?”

“sae…” his name comes out as a whine, and you tremble upon feeling his kisses against your skin. “i’m thirsty… come on, you’ve got to let me go. i’m dying of dehydration over here.”

sae scoffs at your dramatic words, leaning closer to you to bite down at the lobe of your ear, “fine, but you’re not allowed to leave my side.”

he gets out of bed with you, keeping both arms wrapped around you as you dragged walked with him towards the kitchen. had you not felt so thirsty, you would have teased him for his clinginess. after what felt like an eternity, you managed to get to your fridge while opening it, seeing all the bottled water lined up for you to take.

grabbing one of the bottles, you uncap it before downing half of it in a mere few gulps. as you basked in how refreshingly cold it was, your eyes meet with sae before offering the same bottle to him. “would you like some?”

letting out a hum, he accepts your offer and takes the bottle away from you. you watch your boyfriend intently, noticing how his adam’s apple bobbed with each gulp that he takes along with a few stray droplets of water sliding down the corner of his lips. your eyes were mesmerized, watching as that single droplet made its descent towards the base of his throat.

when sae finishes the bottle, you instantly made your move and latched on to his skin, allowing your tongue to lick away at that single droplet. you bask in the shudder that runs down his spine, feeling his hands tightly grip at your hair before pulling you toward him.

“naughty girl…” sae tells you with a grunt, already tossing you over his shoulder as you giggled profusely in response, ready to take in whatever he had to offer when he returns to your shared bedroom while slamming the door shut.

end notes: hiiii i’ve never written for the blue lock fandom before, but i want to try because the brothers are so hot and cool (⺣◡⺣)♡ i’m so sorry if this is ooc, but, i’d like to expand and write for more new characters, so i hope you readers can forgive me ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[yan-randomfandom]

hi!!! omg i just discovered your blog and i’m in LOVE! could i request yandere stanford pines (platonic or romantic or some other type is up to you) with a reader who is a reincarnated euclidean/flatworlder/dream demon? (i don’t know if you’re familiar with same coin theory, but that’s my inspiration!) preferably with no/limited memories of their past life? i imagine ford would be pretty suspicious at first because of his experiences with bill, maybe even try to kill them… but who knows if those feelings will change… that, or maybe he would get obsessed with them as a replacement muse… lots of possibilities! feel free to change/add anything to the concept, or if it doesn’t interest you, i’d appreciate any yandere ford in general! thank you!!!

Yandere!Stanford Pines x Godling!Reader

this took me a while, but i finally got around to writing it! thank you for your kind words, anon! this one contains continuous stories— because this is so long, feel free to point out any mistakes

🌑

You have been summoned.

Even from your deep slumber, the presence of other ghastly beings roaming around the dimension was painfully obvious to you. How curious; they don't seem to belong here.

"You. You grant wishes right? No deals?"

The one who summoned you flinched when you made eye contact. With their chin lifted, they tried to seem intimidating, yet the tremble of their lips and the quaking of their legs gave them away.

"Indeed, but," you replied, smiling to the best of your ability. You hovered around them, critically observing their physical body, and, by extension, their soul.

They are nothing short of terrified. But intriguingly, their fear does not mainly stem from your presence.

"Pray tell," you mused, twirling their hair with your fingers, "what happened here, dear human? I've been asleep for some time, so I request a small favor: answer my question."

Because if you had to be honest, you have no fucking idea what's happening right now. The longer you stay awake, the more you realize that you have no memory of your past.

"Bill Cipher happened. This is the Weirdmaggedon," they answered, their body shaking more intensely. You paused. "I don't know what he wants. Please, all I ask is for you to transfer me and my family somewhere safe. The ones I care about have turned to stone. We just want to be happy. Please."

A giggle escaped you. "A noble wish. Very well, I shall send you and your family to the nearest safe place."

You placed your hand on the top of their head, and they vanished out of thin air.

Humming a tune, you made your way out of the cave where you had been trapped and finally saw the world outside.

...

Swirling colors and chaotic phenomena surrounded you. What a monstrosity. Someone else has taken over this area—Bill Cipher, was it?

Turning your head, you saw an enormous bubble wrapped in chains. A grin-like expression stretched across your face.

So that’s where you sent your summoner.

🌒

Weirdmaggedon is officially over.

Stanford knew that. Bill is gone. His brother is slowly but surely regaining his memories back. Everything is going to be... normal again.

As normal as it can be anyway. A sigh left Ford when he rolled over to his side, staring at practically nothing. The room is pitch black.

He closed his eyes.

...

It's bright. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open.

A familiar field. The gentle breeze doesn't calm him down in the slightest. He's back here. Again. Why? Did Bill somehow escape? Is he out for revenge? That stupid dream demon—!!

"Gree—"

Ford shouted, immediately swinging his fist at you. You dodged swiftly in time.

"—tings! Woah!" you huffed, taking extra care to ensure he didn’t land a finger on you. "Is this how you usually greet a higher being, Stanford Pines?"

The human’s heart raced uncontrollably. This can’t be happening. "Bill, what twisted form have you taken now? Didn’t we destroy you already?!"

You blinked, then laughed. "I'm not Bill, silly! He's long gone, I'm pretty sure. How should I know?"

Not Bill? What kind of nonsense are you spewing out? Stanford's expression darkened. This might be a dream, but he really didn’t want to deal with you—especially not after everything that had just happened.

His demeanor didn't go unnoticed.

"...Oh. I'm sorry," you muttered, getting close enough to meet his eyes. They widened at your words. "I didn't mean to laugh at your misery. I've just been so confused lately."

"What?" was all Ford could manage to say.

"I heard all about you," you said carefully, making gestures with your hands. "Human with six fingers. The man who freed Bill Cipher. Who has traveled across dimensions."

"Who told you...?"

You smiled. "I asked many—don't worry about that part. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about myself. You seem to know a lot, Pines."

Ford woke up.

...

Was that just a dream? Were you even real?

Bill is long gone, dead. Isn't he? He won't find the answers to his questions until he falls asleep again.

🌓

Ford doesn't do anything about you until he's sure of himself. You were definitely just a figment of his imagination, right? A dream.

That’s exactly why he couldn’t believe it when you showed up again. A stupid, curious expression on your face.

And this time, Ford took it upon himself to try and kill you.

"Urk! Don’t do this! I understand you're traumatized, but I really am just trying to find my home!" you stammered, flying and dodging every attack he threw your way.

This is weird. You’re saying things Bill would never say. Is he really trying the opposite approach just to manipulate Ford again?

A massive blast from a cannon struck you.

To both of your surprise, the attack did absolutely nothing to damage you.

"I'm alive!" you exclaimed with glee, up in the air, comically rotating from the impact. "Done yet, Pines? I simply want to talk, you know!"

... Of course. Both of you are untouchable in the dreamscape. While you can imagine anything within both the mind and the dream, a being like Bill isn't stupid enough to enter with his actual body. Guess it worked the same way for you, too. It was still worth a shot.

Ford woke up.

��

"Finally ready?"

You tittered at him up from above. Ford narrowed his eyes at you.

"What do you want?" he deadpanned. "You're not here to make a deal, are you?"

"Deals are not my forte," you said, showing him a negative gesture. "I do wishes. But if I have to admit, I wouldn't wish something from me either."

"So you trick people," he replied, gritting his teeth. "Why do you feel the need to do that? What benefits do you gain?"

You glanced at the side before looking back at him, shrugging. "I don't remember."

"Is that so? How many wishes?"

"One."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Bill—"

"I am not Bill," for the first time since you've met him, your voice finally sounded firm. "As far as we both know, he is gone."

"... What is your name, then?"

"... I don't remember."

🌕

A frustrated huff left Ford as he rubbed between his eyebrows. You giggled, pushing your hand through his hair. It's soft.

"You're not being helpful at all," he said.

"Apologies," you replied, looking sheepish. "It's hard to answer your questions if I know nothing."

"There must be something you know," the man insisted, stepping away from your touch. He doesn't like how gentle it was.

You hummed, crossing your arms as you floated away. "Do you know how Bill looks like? Am I of similar physique, perhaps?"

Ford paused as his eyes glanced up and down at your form. You can't help but feel uneasy under his tenseful gaze.

"You don't know what Bill looks like?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

This man sure is suspicious of you. Not that you blame him. "No. I believe I never met him."

"You believe?" he scoffed. "I hope you know it's hard to trust you."

"Well," you drawled, "would it convince you if I said you can wish for my memory to come back?"

His eyes widened.

You chuckled. Maybe this was too shocking for him. Take it slow, you thought.

"Before anything else, though, how about we enjoy a nice cup of dream tea?"

🌔

You stared at the chess board in between you and Ford, confusion filling your face. "Wait, how does the knight move again?"

"Think of this shape," Ford explained, forming a black marker with his thoughts and drawing the letter 'L' in mid-air. "The knight moves to the end of this point. Just try to visualize it on the board."

"Oh, I think I understand," you muttered, choosing to move your knight in the corner of the board.

Ford grinned. He placed his queen right next to your king. "Checkmate."

"What?!" you gasped, your eyes rambling around the whole chest board. "I mistook my king for the queen! I say rematch!"

A hearty laugh escaped Ford's lips. If this was in the physical world, he's sure that his cheeks would start hurting from smiling so much.

He still wasn’t sure if you were dangerous or not. Really, of all people, Ford should know better than to mess with otherworldly beings.

But maybe this time, you're different. Because, as far as he knows, you're powerless.

🌓

"Pines," you said as Ford roamed his hands across your body. He said this was his way of observing how different you were from Bill. "Aren’t you going to use your wish to help me regain my memory? Or do you want to use it for something else?"

He rubbed his thumb over the side of your body shape. Interesting. You're just as two-dimensional as Bill is. "I only have one chance of using my wish, don't I?"

"Indeed," you murmured, shifting slightly under his touch. "I won't stop you if you use it for yourself, but I'll have to find someone else who might use the wish for me."

Ford halted all his movements.

"What?"

You drifted away from his fingers. He stared at you, wide-eyed.

"I said I'll find another to grant my wish for me," you explained. "Anyway, how was your assessment? Am I anything like Bill?"

Ford continued to stare at you, looking as if he were lost in thought.

...

"Pines?"

"Sorry," he coughed, "but, yes, you're quite similar to Bill."

You beamed, floating over to him and ruffling his hair. "Another step closer to figuring out who I am! Thank you, Pines!"

Ford woke up.

He stared at the dark ceiling. The sun has barely risen.

You had no memories. If he helped you get them back, would you be indebted to him? Or would you turn out like Bill, who wanted to rule the world?

Ford can't let you meet up with another human.

There's only one way out of this.

🌒

"You're ready to use your wish?" you gasped, placing your hands on his shoulders. "That's excellent news—!"

"Question. Do you have limits in your wishes?" Ford asked deliberately, careful with his every word.

You hesitated before replying. "I suppose not."

His large hands held yours over his shoulders. You glanced at his six fingers before meeting his gaze again.

"Then I wish to be your master."

You felt your soul fall to the deepest depths of the dreamscape.

"You'll do anything I ask for. Be under my will. There is no turning back, dream demon."

🌑