#and it made me think of this scenario so I drew it

[kyunghwannie]

Who in twice have this wild experiences in sex. If you can give explanation much better.

You can put a member many times over if you think she experience more than one of this scenarios.

1.) Had sex in a public place.

2.) Had a quickie sex during break while having a concert.

3.) Had one night stand with a fan.

4.) Had sex with a man with big belly or fat man.

5.) Had sex with a much older man like 20+ years older.

6.) Had sex with a man having BBC or BWC.(Specify who's member prefers BBC or BWC)

P.s. This is part 1 of my ask since I thought of many scenarios so I decided to divide it. Take your time answering this bro, I know you can cook. 🔥

KYUNGHWANNIE’S "TWICE: BEHIND THE SCENES (WAY BEHIND)" SEXUAL ADVENTURES TIER LIST

Before that, go read this.

(Disclaimer: This is 100% delulu fanfiction. But also… idols are human. And humans do wild shit. So let’s play pretend with sparkly judgment.)

1.) Had Sex in a Public Place

Winner: Sana (duh).

Where? Backstage at a music show, pressed against a mirror in the shared dressing room.

Why Her? That girl has zero fear. One wink at a staffer she trusted, and suddenly she’s hiking her skirt up in a supply closet, muffling her moans in his shoulder while the others rehearse "TT" down the hall.

Bonus Detail: She loved the risk—sweat dripping down her thighs, his fingers digging into her ass as she rode him, whispering "unnie could walk in…" just to feel him throb.

Honorable Mention: Nayeon (airplane bathroom. Allegedly.)

2.) Quickie During a Concert Break

Winner: Jihyo.

The Scene: Coachella. 90-degree heat. She’s drenched in sweat, still in her stage corset, and some VIP fan (who totally wasn’t Kyunghwannie, hehe) sneaks her into a trailer.

The Act: Bent over a makeup chair, skirt shoved up, him pounding into her like he’s trying to match the bass of "Feel Special." She came twice in 7 minutes.

Aftermath: Fixed her smudged lipstick, walked back onstage like nothing happened, and still hit the high note in "Cry For Me." Icon behavior.

3.) One-Night Stand with a Fan

Winner: Momo.

The Setup: After-party in Tokyo. Drunk, horny, and over the dating ban. Some ONCE with very good dance skills (and hands) flirted his way into her hotel room.

The Reality: She rode him reverse-cowgirl so he could watch her ass bounce, then kicked him out at 4 AM with a "don’t tweet about this."

Regrets? Zero. But she did steal his hoodie.

4.) Sex with a Fat Man

Winner: Jeongyeon. (I judge you for this ask, anon. But I deliver.)

The Story: Post-breakup rebound. Some adorable chubby producer with dad vibes made her laugh, then ate her out like it was his last meal.

Her Review: "10/10, would suffocate again."

Kyunghwannie’s Note: I hate that what i wrote is kinda wholesome

5.) Sex with a Man 20+ Years Older

Winner: Mina.

The Plot Twist: It was her ballet instructor from her pre-debut days. Reconnected, "mentorship" got… hands-on.

The Dynamic: She let him tie her up with silk ribbons (for ~artistic purposes~), then cried when he fucked her with the maturity of a man who actually knows how to pace.

Why It Fits: Mina’s a secret old soul. Also, "respect your elders" took on a new meaning.

6.) BBC/BWC Enthusiast

Prefer BBC: Sana (again). Size queen energy. Once whimpered "it won’t fit—" before taking every inch like the champ she is.

Prefer BWC: Tzuyu. Shy until she’s not. Some blonde foreign model ruined her for mortal men.

Wildcard: Chaeyoung (no preference, but definitely drew her partner’s dick in her notebook afterward).

Final Verdict:

Most Likely to Have Done All of These: Sana. No further questions.

Least Likely (But Still Possible): Dahyun… unless it was in a church confessional. Then maybe.

(Remember, ONCE: This is fiction. But if you squint… 👀)

=======

KYUNGHWANNIE’S "TWICE & THE MYSTERIOUS CASE OF PORN-BRAIN FANS" ROAST SESSION ✨

(Disclaimer: This is a 100% unserious, glitter-coated drag of porn tropes, not the members themselves. Idols are innocent angels who only drink smoothies and hold hands. Probably.)

Sparkly Judgment Delivered! ✨ (Now go touch grass, anon.)

1.) The "Fat Guy Kink" – AKA "Sir, This Is a Wendy’s"

Alleged Suspect: Jeongyeon (because I've seen most fic i saw of her insist in wattpad).

The "Plot":

"Ohhh, Jeongyeon loves a big teddy bear of a man!" – says every fanfic written by someone who watches too much "Chubby CEO Seduces Idol" JAV.

Reality Check: Jeongyeon’s type is literally "someone who brings me food and leaves." She’s not climbing Mount Dad Bod for plot convenience.

Roast Level: 🌟 "If I wanted a belly, I’d just wait for Momo to finish eating." – Jeongyeon, probably.

2.) The "BBC/BWC Obsession" – AKA "Pornhub Called, They Want Their Stereotypes Back"

Alleged Suspects: Sana (BBC) & Tzuyu (BWC)

The "Logic":

"Sana’s Japanese, so obviously she craves BBC!" – �� 

"Tzuyu’s tall, so she needs BWC to match!" – 🤡

Reality Check:

Sana would actually prefer someone who can keep up with her energy, not just their shoe size.

Tzuyu is not a math equation ("if height = dick length, then…"). Girl just wants a guy who doesn’t faint when she looks at him.

Roast Level: ✨ "Anon, you’ve been watching too much ‘Foreigner Corrupts Innocent girl’ category. Go outside."

Final Verdict:

TWICE’s real kinks? Personal space, sleep, and not being shipped with random body types.

Sparkly Roast Complete! 🌈 (Now go watch a cooking show or something. Reset that algorithm.)

💎 P.S. for Anon: "No kink-shaming here, babes—just a gentle, sparkly reality check that real-life TWICE isn’t the weird JAV plot where a big bbc guy pound them into oblivion or a pervy fat guy is leeching on them. Maybe if It's like fluff, iam acceptable to it. Wholesome fun is smth else.. Enjoy your fantasies, but maybe balance that diet with some fresh air and a cold shower. Love ya! ✨" and dont argue with me or else I'll make a smut with the same trope saying it is you who is the Guy- oh wait, you’d enjoy it anyway. SHIT!-

(Translation: Go off, but hydrate.)

[pixelatedraindrops]

Edit (colored): Doodle I did of a sick child Makoto refusing to take his medicine, because it’s just too icky! 💊💦

Yuma is losing his patience but he won’t give up. The top detective is nothing if not persistent with his stubborn little mini clone.

I based the toys he has with him off his other/beta mask designs c:

The idea of Makoto being an actual 3 year old child that Yuma looks after is both funny and adorable to me.

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @themetalhiro

Hi, I’m Metal! I’m a freelance artist from good ol’ New Jersey. My favorite things to work with are a lot of bright colors, exaggerated poses, and candid scenarios. I try to farm sensible chuckles whenever I can, so I’m also big into comics. I love making them about my life, and the media I’m into, and one day I’d like to publish my own series!  Thank you to everyone who has gotten me this far!!

Check out Metal's interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I guess so! It’s funny, I don’t remember a single time in my life that I wasn’t drawing as a hobby… somewhere in middle school (a little late, I know.) I put the pieces together that animated movies were made by artists, and that it wasn’t just for fun, they were paid to do it. The moment I discovered people could be paid to make art, I decided I would do that, too. Now I’m here!

How has your style developed over the years?

I think the best way to answer this would be with an example! Over the last few years, I have made more of an effort to draw more intentionally, which sounds silly. Now, I put more thought into my poses and step out of my comfort zone with shape language and composition. I had a phase where I drew everyone with a huge, perfectly circular head and no nose. That definitely did not lend much variety...

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

Ack! I’m so terrible at history! I’d love to give a well-thought-out answer about fine artists of old, but I don't think we’d have much in common… Most artists I admire and who have driven me forward creatively are the people behind comics I’ve read. Andrew Hussie, Bryan Lee O’Malley, Eiichiro Oda... these guys have inspired me greatly and had a heavy influence in developing my art style and sense of humor. I’d love to ask them questions about their processes and upcoming projects. I think it would make for an entertaining night!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

Outside of pure aesthetics like searing bright colors, layered clothing, and loud noises…. the best and most inspiring moments in my life were those surrounded by friends and loved ones! I cherish the hell out of memories of hanging around in fun locations, trying weird food together, and impromptu midnight walks... so I try my best to capture that atmosphere and my own memories in my work when I can, even if I’m imposing fictional characters on top of them. That’s always the core of it.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I would never permanently refuse a medium, but every time I pick up clay, I’m like a baby using its hands for the first time. Absolutely dreadful. If one day I could make and paint a figurine like the ones I admire in videos, that would be awesome... But for now, I’m not counting on it.

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

I’ve had an absolute blast drawing fanart over the years, and it’s certainly played a massive role in my growth as an artist. But my dream has always been to publish my own stories for y'all to enjoy! I have lots of worlds I want to introduce to you before I’m old and gray. I want to get faster, work harder, and get better at drawing interesting settings so I can get the wheels turning as soon as possible. I also want to stop avoiding the color blue like a coward.

What do you wish you knew when you first started out creating art that you know now?

Pay your taxes quarterly. Tablets will break at the exact moment you need them most, so have a spare. Wear your blue light glasses. You’re going to need to wear a brace on every joint on the right side of your body. It can be lonely sitting at your desk all day. The car on the side of the road that costs $1000 cash….. don’t trust it!!!

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@cranity—They use absolutely beautiful colors and weighty line work. Everything looks so sharp and clean! I wanna put it all up on my wall!

@vewn—Their ability to crank out quality short films and illustrations packed with detail is incredible. The off-kilter perspective they use really sells disorientation and catches your attention like nothing else.

@nelnal—They have absolutely banger character designs again and again, I can’t believe one person’s mind can come up with so many creative ideas!

@jinx88kc—They have a beautiful and recognizable style, and the way they incorporate animation into their illustrations sometimes is SO cool!

Thanks for stopping by, Metal! For more of Metal’s work, follow their Tumblr, @themetalhiro! If you haven't seen their Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here!

[cupcakeeees]

“Steering Right Into Trouble”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: what could go wrong with an F1 driver by your side? It’s just driving.. right?

word count: 1k

The first time Lando offered to teach you how to drive, you thought he was joking.

“Trust me, you’re in good hands,” he’d grinned, keys dangling from his fingers. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Famous last words.

It started with you sitting stiffly in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the wheel like your life depended on it. Lando sat beside you, far too relaxed for what was about to happen.

“Okay,” he began, his tone calm and reassuring. “Adjust your mirrors, check your seat position, and remember to breathe. It’s just a car..”.

You shot him a side-eye. He laughed.

“Alright, first thing, gently press the gas. Just a little. Remember, the car isn’t going to-”

The car lurched forward as your foot pressed harder than you intended. Lando’s hand shot out, grabbing the handbrake instinctively.

“Okay, not that much!” he yelped, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” you squeaked, your hands tightening around the wheel like it was your lifeline.

“It’s fine. Totally fine,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“That’s why I’m here, yeah? Just.. maybe try pressing the pedals like they’re made of glass, not concrete.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Lando, I’m so bad at this!”

“No, you’re not,” he said with a chuckle, his voice softer now as he gently tugged your hand off your face. “You’re just learning. Besides, I’ve got the handbrake. Worst-case scenario, we spin out in an empty parking lot. No big deal.”

Over the next hour, Lando swung between being the calm, collected professional driver and a man on the brink of a heart attack.

“Okay, now let’s try turning,” he said, resting one hand lightly on the wheel to demonstrate. “Slowly, just ease into it.”

You started the turn, but as the wheel slipped from your grasp slightly, you panicked. “It’s moving on its own!”

“Yeah, because that’s how physics works,” he said, laughing as he reached over to grab the wheel and guide it. “Just keep your hands steady. I’ve got it if anything happens.”

“You’re regretting this, aren’t you?” you muttered, cheeks burning.

“No, no!” he insisted, though the way he adjusted the wheel with one hand and clung to the door handle with the other told a different story. “This is great!”

After several missteps, and a very close call with a stray traffic cone, you finally managed a smooth lap around the parking lot. Lando clapped his hands.

He leaned closer, putting an encouraging hand on your thigh. “You’re doing better than you think.”

“Really?” the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“Yeah,” flicking your nose playfully. “Now, want to try some parallel parking?”

Your groan echoed through the car, and he burst out laughing. “You really don’t want your car to survive today, do you?”

The peaceful atmosphere didn’t last long because the next disaster struck when you accidentally pressed the accelerator instead of the brake during a turn.

The car jerked forward, and Lando’s hand shot out to steady the wheel while his other hand reached for the handbrake.

“Brake!” he yelped

“I am!” your voice high-pitched with panic.

“Press harder!” he said, still clutching the wheel. “It’s not going to break, I promise - just PRESS IT!”

You managed to stop the car, both of you breathing heavily in the aftermath. Lando let out a shaky laugh, leaning back in his seat.

Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help but do the same, shaking your head at him. “Be honest. How bad am I?”

“Honestly?” He paused for effect, his grin widening. “Pretty terrible. But you’ve got potential.”

As the “lesson” drew to a close, the sun dipping low in the sky, you pulled the car to a stop and turned to him, your own smile faltering slightly. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Putting up with you?” he repeated, his brows furrowing. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling the keys from the ignition. “You’re lucky I didn’t crash your car.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t bail halfway through,” he shot back.

You were finally back in the passenger seat, where you belonged. Lando took over, effortlessly handling the wheel, every movement smooth and confident.

“See?” he teased, one hand lazily resting at the top of the steering wheel while he smirked at you. “This is how you’re supposed to do it.”

You shot him a glare, slouching in your seat exhausted. “Not everyone drives for a living, you know.”

He chuckled, eyes flicking toward you briefly, “You look a lot more comfortable here anyway,” he teased, tapping your seat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just.. you’re a pretty cute passenger princess. My passenger princess..”

You crossed your arms, trying to act unbothered while your cheeks betrayed you, burning bright pink even after all this time. “Oh, I see how it is, Norris! What? You didn’t like being my passenger princess?”

Lando only laughed quietly to himself, drumming his fingers against the wheel, as his other hand found yours across the console.

And so, the ride back felt easier than the whole lesson combined, even if your heart was racing faster than his car.

[kianamaiart]

Hey hey! You’ve probably been asked this a lot but what made you want to start creating I Don’t Want To Be A Magical Girl?

Also I drew Akia in my style!

Hope you’re having a great day btw ! :0)

First of all this is so rad!!! I loooove how you drew her

And what made me want to make I Don't Want to be a Magical Girl... It was a lot of things! (im assuming you mean the pilot in general)

The idea started off as a stupid doodle/character design practice. It wasn't gonna be anything more than that. I just felt like drawing a cute character with a gun really hahaha.

It's not a particularly original premise and I didn't plan to do anything more with her (as I do with most of my ocs/designs). But I actually did really like this one and couldn't help but think of little ideas and scenarios with her. Things started ramping up in my brain more when I realized I could attach a personal story and personal experiences to it to make it feel less cliche. That's when I started designing the other characters and coming up with bios and stuff

And then that was gonna be it again. I'd maybe do a comic here and there but there was a combination of things that happened that led to me jumping in and making a pilot.

First of all, I had a two month hiatus coming up so I had so much time. I also decided to step down from my directors position to be a board artist again in the coming season. So I really wanted to get some storyboarding practice in and what better way to do that than with this character I ended up really liking? I also don't have a portfolio and I'd been wanting to make something that's very me rather than my work from an existing show.

I'd offhandedly mentioned to my editor at disney that I wanted to do a board for these characters and she told me she'd help me make an animatic if it ever came to that. I couldn't pass up that opportunity! Now, since it was gonna be an animatic and I didn't want it to just be my scratch, I reached out to a bunch of VA friends to see if they'd be interested and they were!

Then other than having that support, just seeing my friends work on their own personal projects has been really inspiring and made me want to also do my own thing! Me and my friend group had just made a whole video game for our friend as a bday present which was so creatively fulfilling and made me realize like "oh my god we're artists we can literally just make stuff".

In the past I'd been so afraid to share my original work and for similar fears I've never wanted to showrun despite having the opportunity to pitch. While it's flattering to be wanted there was this pressure that felt like "oh you HAVE to make something, you're wasting your talent otherwise." (lol this is ironically the thesis of idwtbamg). And as a qpoc, i'd felt this extra layer of pressure to have to make something perfect on all fronts because if i fail in any capacity, i'm failing my community. it'd just be another another reason for people to say "ah queer media and work centering poc just can't succeed." then on the other end, i can only do and write what i know and feared that other people in my community wouldn't resonate with it or would feel like it's inaccurate to their own experiences.

but that's an exhausting way to feel and i've finally decided for myself that i'm just gonna tell stories that are authentic to me and it will reach whoever it needs to reach~ this realization was kind of the final step i needed to push myself to go all in. and now we're here!

[hcneymooners]

⋆ arcane but it's a private university au ( for the girls: pt. ii )

ice princess!f!reader x multi. f!characters. men & minors dni.

synopsis: private university!arcane headcanons but it’s really specific bc it’s based on my time at catholic private school except this au is just a private hold the catholic.

cw: this part contains scenarios for jinx, sevika, & ambessa. writing for jinx was actually my favorite portion (ambessa, please forgive me.) suggestive content. notes: i love them so bad. you can find part one here. i didn't include the intro since i did it in the first one! i love you.

jinx : the "bad influence." 

୨୧ the two of you met mid-sprint, fleeing a party broken up by the police. it was one of those raw, electric moments where adrenaline surges and strangers become allies in chaos.

୨୧ in the frenzied escape, she tripped, her knees hitting the pavement hard. without hesitation, you yanked her up, kicking away an overzealous officer with surprising precision.

୨୧ all you caught were glimpses: two impossibly long blue braids swinging like a pendulum and wide, heavily-lashed pink eyes that lingered on yours, a strange curiosity etched into their neon stare.

୨୧ your fingers found hers without thinking, and together you ran—your heeled feet stumbling across glitter-streaked concrete littered with shattered glass and discarded red cups.

୨୧ the chase ended in a hole-in-the-wall thai spot, rain pouring in sheets outside. bundled in your oversized vintage fur coat, dark brown and impossibly warm, you glanced at her—soaked, shivering, and unapologetically smug.

୨୧ against every instinct, you shifted, lifting the bulk of your coat to drape over her smaller frame. pressed close, you felt the cold bite of her skin and the cherry tang of her perfume, thick and sharp. her stomach—toned, pale, and adorned with vibrant tattoos—drew your attention as it flexed when she flagged down the waitress.

୨୧ she was so deeply beautiful and so fucking close to you and you’re shivering and wet together.

୨୧ silence settled between you as she grew overly familiar, stealing bites from your plate and feeding you egg rolls with a crooked grin. her nails scraped against your bottom lip, and she laughed when you blinked, stunned, swallowing more than just food.

୨୧ at some point, she leaned in, stealing a sip from your drink, her lips lingering on the rim.

୨୧ you paid.

୨୧ "thanks, ice princess," she murmured as you left. only then did it hit you—she knew you. you must’ve crossed paths on campus, and yet, she felt like a stranger from a different world.

୨୧ she pressed a glossy pink kiss to your cheek, saluted with mock reverence, and vanished into the seedy underbelly of the city.

୨୧ you thought about her for weeks.

୨୧ you didn’t expect to see her again. but days later, there she was on campus, leaning against the vending machine in your dorm building like she belonged there.

୨୧ “ice princess,” she greeted, that crooked grin pulling at her lips. “guess we’re neighbors.”

୨୧ you didn’t know what to say. it was one thing to pull a stranger out of trouble and share a meal in some forgotten corner of the city. it was another to see her here, part of your world, like she’d been there all along.

୨୧ she started showing up more often after that—slipping into your study sessions at the library, tagging along when you grabbed coffee. she was loud and reckless, her laughter echoing off the quiet walls, drawing stares that you pretended not to notice.

୨୧ it wasn’t long before she started pushing you out of your comfort zone. sneaking you into underground parties, dragging you to rooftop hangouts where the city stretched out beneath you, glittering and endless.

୨୧ she made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t realized you were missing.

୨୧ you couldn’t stop staring at her tattoos, the colorful, intricate designs that covered her stomach and arms. one night, without thinking, you reached out to trace a line along her skin.

୨୧ she caught your hand before you could pull back, her fingers curling around yours. “you like ‘em, huh, mama?” she said, her voice low and teasing. your cheeks burned, and you stammered something incoherent, but she only laughed, pressing your palm flat against her stomach. “gonna get one just for you. we can match.”

୨୧ she had a habit of being overly familiar—feeding you bites of her food, letting her fingers linger against your lips as you swallowed. one time, her thumb brushed your bottom lip, and you caught her smirk as she let her teeth graze her fork, slow and deliberate.

୨୧ you knew you were falling for her. it was impossible not to. the way she leaned in close when she talked, her perfume sweet and enticing, her lips always just a little too close. the way she made you feel like the only person in the room, even in a crowd.

୨୧ not everyone saw her the way you did. when someone from your social circle made a snide comment about her, you didn’t hesitate to defend her. “she’s smarter than all of you combined,” you snapped, your voice colder than ice. “and she’s got more heart than you’ll ever understand.”

୨୧ it was after that that she started pulling away. her laughter came less easily, her touch less frequent.

୨୧ “you don’t get it,” she told you one night, her voice brittle. “i’m… broken. you shouldn’t—”

୨୧ “jinx,” you interrupted, your tone firm but gentle. “i’m from a legacy family. and, according to my family, i "choose" to like girls. i’m definitely fucked up. so how could i judge you?”

୨୧ she stared at you for a long moment, her eyes softening, and for the first time, she was at a loss for words.

୨୧ your first kiss wasn’t rushed or reckless. it was quiet, heavy with the weight of everything building between you. 

୨୧ you were sitting together on the roof of her sister’s apartment, the city lights stretching out below, and she was looking at you like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

୨୧ “you’re staring,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

୨୧ “yeah,” she said, her grin softer than you’d ever seen it. “so what?”

୨୧ before you could answer, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours like a question. when you didn’t pull away, she kissed you deeper, her hand cupping your jaw, her thumb tracing your cheekbone.

୨୧ she tasted like strawberry chapstick and danger, and you never wanted to let her go. when she finally pulled back, her forehead resting against yours, she smiled.

୨୧ “told you,” she murmured, her voice soft and warm. “you’re stuck with me now.”

୨୧ you smiled back, cheeks aching. "i'm not stuck. i'm right where i want to be." ୨୧ she leaned back, dragging you into her lap. a slender finger dipped into your skirt's waistband and fingered the lace dip of your panties. your breath hitched, and she kissed your throat. "c'mon. lemme hear you, mama."

୨୧ from that moment on, you were hers—completely, irrevocably hers.

p.s you say fuck it, choose her over your fuck ass homophobic family, get disowned, get married, start a million dollar engineering empire, & have isha. 

sevika: the older student.

୨୧ you first noticed her in your advanced biochem lab—all sharp angles and calculated movements, her mechanical arm gleaming under fluorescent lights as she measured solutions with military precision. 

୨୧ sevika was notorious among grad students: brilliant, ruthless, and absolutely not interested in working with undergrads. which made it particularly unfortunate when professor silco paired you together for the semester's research project.

୨୧ she was older than most students—whispers said she dropped out years ago and came back after “handling some things.” no one was brave enough to ask what that meant, but her reputation kept most people at arm’s length.

୨୧ her expression when your name was called could have curdled milk. you lifted your chin, met her gaze steadily, and pretended your heart wasn't racing. 

୨୧ sevika didn’t bother to introduce herself. she just crossed her arms over her broad chest and grumbled, “you’re doing the talking.” her voice was low, almost lazy.

୨୧ "i'm not carrying dead weight," she said at your first session. you noticed a scar bisecting her left eye, the way her jaw clenched when she spoke. "if we're doing this, we do it my way." “thought you said i’d be talking,” you snapped back.

୨୧ 'her way' meant late nights in the lab, your designer clothes traded for practical cotton, hair pulled back from your face. she worked you relentlessly, expecting perfection in every measurement, every calculation. but beneath her harsh exterior, you caught glimpses of something else—the way she'd correct your form without mockery, how she'd appear with coffee when your hands started shaking from exhaustion.

୨୧ it was after one of these late sessions that it happened. you were walking back to your dorm, mind fuzzy with fatigue and feet stumbling, when rough hands grabbed you from behind. before you could scream, a low voice cut through the darkness: "let her go, or i remove your hands permanently."

୨୧ sevika stood there, golden eyes burning in the streetlight, her mechanical arm whirring softly. the would-be mugger took one look at her and ran. you stayed frozen, heart thundering in your chest, until she clicked her tongue in disapproval. “get it together, princess. come on."

୨୧ she led you to an alcove and watched you flutter with delayed panic like a bird, mouth twisted with an unreadable expression. "you need to learn to defend yourself," she said finally. it wasn't a suggestion. you opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off. “gym. tomorrow. six am. wear something you can actually move in."

୨୧ that's how you found yourself spending your mornings with sevika, learning to throw punches and break holds. she was a harsh teacher, but her hands were surprisingly gentle when correcting your stance. "again," she'd say, and you'd try to ignore how your skin tingled where she touched.

୨୧ soon enough, she started showing up wherever you were—whether it was a coffee shop, the library, or your favorite bench on campus. “just passing through,” she claimed. still, the way she always ended up sitting beside you said otherwise. she knew you were anxious, your body tensing whenever someone passed by. your airpods haven’t been in noise cancellation mode for three weeks.

୨୧ her mechanical arm fascinated you. one day, you asked about it, your curiosity outweighing your hesitation. she shrugged, but you caught the faintest twitch of a smile when you told her you thought it was beautiful.

୨୧ the project evolved, and so did whatever was growing between you. she started letting you help maintain her arm, teaching you the intricate mechanisms. your fingers would brush as you worked, and sometimes she'd let them linger. "careful," she'd murmur, but you were never sure if she meant with the machinery or with her.

୨୧ in these moments, she had a way of looking at you that made your stomach flip—like she was sizing you up, deciding if you’re worth her time. 

୨୧ you began to seek her out. the first time you loitered in the parking lot of her condo, fingers twitching nervously as you texted that you stopped by. she opened the door and lounged against the doorway, thick thighs bared by her boxers and skin gleaming from a recent workout. she laughed as you gasped and turned away.

୨୧ “what the fuck, sevika!” “princess, we have the same parts. they probably would feel real nice pushed togeth—“ “SEVIKA.”

୨୧ she pushed you out of your comfort zone in quiet, deliberate ways. you’re dragged to the campus bar, taught how to play pool (and lose), and laughing when you scratch on the break. “you’re hopeless, princess,” she teased, her smirk revealing her perfect gap teeth.

୨୧ her teasing was relentless, and she always called you “princess” and sometimes “baby girl” like it was on your birth certificate. you flushed every time, which only encouraged her.

୨୧ the first time you successfully pinned her during a self-defense session, she actually laughed—a rich, surprised sound that made your heart stutter. "not bad, baby girl,” she said, still beneath you, her organic hand warm on your hip. you became acutely aware of your position, of how close her face was to yours. neither of you moved for a long moment.

୨୧ if you’re becoming way too possessive of her, sue you. you’re the only undergrad who’s smuggled yourself under her wing and you’d like to keep it that way, goddamnit. you were never good at sharing anyway.

୨୧ it came to a head at an afterparty, your eye twitching as you watched some bitch (sorry!) trace her talons across sevika’s waist, which was framed admirably by a dark pair of jeans that were practically painted on.

୨୧ it only took a few seconds for you to stomp across the room and root a hand around her neck, drawing her into a searing kiss. you kissed her like you were trying to draw juice from her lips, moaning as she tugged you in closer.

୨୧ she kissed like she fought—precise, demanding, taking no prisoners. she backed you against the counter, knocking over a bottle of malibu, mechanical hand cool against your hips. “didn’t know you had it in you,” she laughed. “shut up, sevika. my god.” you grabbed her collar, reeled her back in.

୨୧ "you're my special girl,” she'd tell you later, tracing patterns on your skin with metal fingers. “the only one i give a fuck about. no competition.” her voice was bleeding with affection, and you curled into her side. she pressed kisses to your hair and leaned over to set an alarm for the both you—one for her, four for you.

୨୧ it worked, somehow—your refined, gilded edges against her sharp ones. you learned to throw a punch; she learned that you would lock her out if she didn’t allow you to spoil her relentlessly. “princess, i already have a bike.” “keep talking, honey, and i’ll purchase the whole dealership.” “now—“

୨୧ "you're trying to kill me slowly,” she grumbled, watching you charm your way through department gatherings. but she'd be there anyway, a solid presence at your back, her mechanical hand resting possessively at your waist. and when you'd lean into her touch, she'd hide her smile in your hair.

୨୧ if anyone found it strange to see the ice princess curled up in the lap of the most feared grad student on campus, well, one look from sevika's narrowed eyes was enough to silence any commentary.

୨୧ you were a fucking princess, both in real life and in her bed, but fuck you were hers. and sevika protected what was hers.

ambessa medarda : the professor. 

୨୧ you first saw her across a dimly lit hotel bar. you were three drinks in, mascara smeared from crying after the worst fight yet with your mother. "disappointing," she'd called you. "ungrateful." all because you refused to date the son of her country club friends.

୨୧ “mommy, please,” you’d sobbed. “i’m not ungrateful. i just don’t love him.” she’d left you with the dial tone.

୨୧ you rubbed a fist across your face like a child, attempting to gather yourself. your phonecall was denied again, and you winced at the tinny voice of your mother’s voicemail, setting it down and turning it off. god, this was the worst thing to happen to you in a long time. 

୨୧ with a sigh, you glanced up at the mirror behind the bar. she was looking right back. 

୨୧ the woman was striking—white locs swept into an elegant updo, wearing a low-cut red dress that hugged her body tightly. she moved like a lioness, back flexing as she hunkered down over the glossy wood. her golden eyes met yours, and your stomach began to spin. you knew this was the beginning of a dangerous game.

୨୧ after a minute she walked over, hands bearing water instead of another drink. "crying in bars rarely solves anything, little one," she said, her accent rich and heady. when you tried to argue, she simply raised an eyebrow, and you found yourself downing the glass in its entirety. 

୨୧ you kept eye contact as you swallowed, tongue peeking out to lap at the remnants along your lips.

୨୧ you don't remember who moved first. but you remember her hands—strong, calloused—gripping your thighs. remember her voice, rough with want, whispering against your neck. remember the way she claimed you, leaving mottled marks you'd find days later.

୨୧ you remember waking up alone in her hotel room, a glass of water and two aspirin on the nightstand. no note. just the lingering scent of her perfume—spiced and earthy—on the sheets.

୨୧ you tried to forget her. tried to forget how she'd called you “sweet girl” when you'd bitten her shoulder, how she'd laughed darkly and pinned your hands above your head, called you “easy” when you sobbed out pitiful demands for her to go harder and faster, do destroy you from the inside out.

୨୧ then came the first day of advanced military history.

୨୧ "good morning, class. i'm professor medarda."

୨୧ your blood ran cold. there she stood—your favorite fantasy, your most well-spent drunken night—looking devastatingly beautiful in a tailored suit. her eyes found yours immediately, and you saw the recognition flash in them, followed by something darker, more primal.

୨୧ you tried to drop the class. she denied your request personally.

୨୧ "running away?" she asked during mandatory office hours, pouring tea from an ornate set. "that's not the fierce girl i remember. you scratched me all up.”

୨୧ your cheeks burned. "professor—"

୨୧ "ambessa," she corrected, sliding the tea across her desk. “i think we’re past the formalities.”

୨୧ you couldn't avoid her. she called on you in class, her voice caressing your name. kept you after lectures to "discuss your work." you told yourself the tension would fade.

୨୧ it didn't.

୨୧ "i need a teaching assistant," she announced one evening, when you'd stayed too late reviewing your paper. "someone sharp. strategic. devoted.” her fingers brushed yours as she took your empty teacup. "interested?"

୨୧ you should have said no. you should have viewed her wolfish grin as a red flag, grabbed your shit, and hauled ass. instead, you heard yourself say, “of course.”

୨୧ being her TA meant late nights in her office, her perfume making you dizzy with memories. meant watching her command rooms full of students while remembering how she'd commanded your body. it meant pretending you couldn't feel her eyes on you, hungry and possessive.

୨୧ "we should establish some boundaries,” you said finally, after weeks of delicious torture.

୨୧ "should we?" she moved like a predator, backing you against her desk. "or should we discuss how you keep shivering when i get too close?"

୨୧ your breath caught. "this is inappropriate."

୨୧ “mmm, entirely," she agreed, one hand sliding into your hair, the other around your neck. “now, tell me to stop."

୨୧ you didn’t. 

୨୧ “little minx,” she murmured and you kissed her, surging forward and into her lap.

୨୧ it became your secret—stolen moments in her office after hours, weekends at her apartment where she'd cook elaborate dishes and tear your papers to shreds, nights where she'd make you forget your own name and squeal hers.

୨୧ “good girl” she'd murmur against your skin, switching to noxian when you drove her too far. she ordained you with names that meant something far more possessive and crude in her native tongue.

୨୧ the whole thing made you feel deliciously stained and you sought her out to purify you time and time again. you kept it hidden until graduation. until you had your degree in hand and nothing left to lose.

୨୧ the scandal was delicious—respected professor medarda and her former student, now openly living together. your mother was horrified. society whispered.

୨୧ "regrets?" ambessa asked one morning, watching you sip the spiced coffee you'd grown to love.

୨୧ you thought of that night at the bar, of all the paths that led you here. "never."  it turned out some mistakes are worth making twice.

© hcneymooners.

[hannamoon143]

You drew stars around my scars ✮⋆˙

Life is hard. Some people don't know how to cope with that. Some people just try to feel mentally better by causing physical pain instead. How ironical, isn't it? Oh but bless you, that lee felix is in your life. Because this man never misses a thing.⋆｡°✩

Genre:Angst,Hurt/comfort

Warnings:Sh,a bit childhood trauma, Depression, Crying, mentions of food,mentions of bad eating habits

Lee felix x fem.Reader

Words: 3,9k

a/n: hey everyone<33 To write this fic brought me some comfort too, and it's healing me a bit more everytime i can use my own experiences,emotions and thoughts to write something that comforts others too, and relate to y/n a lot. And i know i'm not the only one, so i hope this can bring everyone that reads it a bit comfort. And pls always remember what of a beautiful person you are. Hurting yourself is never ever the only solution. If you need someone to talk, reach out to someone, anyone, also me if you don't have anyone. I'd rather have literally any person cry for hours in my arms, or vent to me in my dm's than have them hurt their own bodies, that always supports them. Everything felix says in that fic is true, and they r my own thoughts about this. I love you all, take care of yourselves.<3

Depression takes a lot from you. It takes your motivation, productivity, the will to socialize, and your happiness. It’s unfair isn’t it? Little, happy children become tired, broken adults.

People always think depression is something where you sit in your bed the whole day and cry. Well that is half true. Yes, there are days like that, but that’s far not everything. The worst are those dull days, when you feel entirely numb, but your life has to go on anyways. No joy in your heart, and no tears in your eyes. Just a big nothing in your mind.

After a while you figure it out though. It’s always those numb episodes, until every emotion you thought didn’t exist the days before, crashes down on you. And it’s overwhelming. Every.single.time.

But what if you’d find something that could ‚help‘ you? Something that brought you pain and relief at the same time? That made you feel alive, in the numb episodes and distracted you from the pain in the days where you broke down? The price was just your beautiful skin, and blood...

A problem was though, once you’d start, it would be very hard to stop again. But why should you anyways? Why should you stop when it was the only thing seemingly bringing you comfort for some short time?

It started off by you, picking at your skin absimendtly whenever you felt anxious, or when you just didn’t pay attention. It felt relieving. It was the burning pain when you scatched on your skin so hard it was slightly bloody, making you feel like your feelings actually mattered. And then that one night. That night everything crashed down on you. Your friends wanted nothing to do with you anymore, the few you had before, cut contact. You couldn’t even be mad at them. Who wouldn’t be annoyed by someone who constantly cancelled plans, and gave off a „depressing, annoying attitude“? Well these were their words. Oh but you saw it coming. All the overthinking in the middle of the night, those worst case scenarios, they had come true.

And your family? You never had a healthy relationship with them. So now, that you were grown up, the contact was almost entirely dead. And yeah, there was your boyfriend felix, but you’d never burden him with your problems. He already had enough on his mind with the world tour and all the new released albums, of the band he was in.

And that was it. No one there that you could reach out to, no one to comfort you, when your heart and mind were breaking into millions of glass splitters. Every person reaches their breaking point someday. And that day was yours. You remembered the night clearly. You were sitting on the bathroom floor, crying out all the emotion you had been holding in for too long. You had no friends anymore. No family. And pretty sure soon no boyfriend too. Nothing to hold onto.

Then you reached out to a drawer. You didn’t really register what you were doing as you took it out. A simple, silver blade. A little cut on your wrist. A line of crimson red blood on your skin.

At first you were terrified. What had you done? Why weren’t you affected by the stinging pain on your wrist, and the blood building in the small cut? Why did it in fact feel good? And then you decided to try it again, just to answer those questions right?

That’s where it started.

You knew you had depression. But going to a therapist? You were scared, probably too lazy, and you could never tell all your problems to a complete stranger. And most of all you didn’t want felix to worry either. He was the only one left, and soon he would surely leave too. He was the sweetest, sunny person on this earth, he deserved someone that matched his energy, and wasn’t so… hard to love.

Every single task felt like a hard, impossible chore. Getting out of your bed felt like doing the unbelievable. Doing the most simple things like showering, or brushing your teeth seemed so far away, that you could only master them on your best days. Some days, you went to work, did everything you had to, with a straight, stoic face. That was until you came home, laid into your bed, and silent tears would build wet spots on your pillow.

But somedays, even crying seemed too overwhelming. All you could do was lay in your dark room, staring at the wall. It was just the darkness and you, and somewhere in your mind, a voice whispering that it would help to cut...

And then there were these rare days, on which you felt almost too overwhelmed. It were those days you came home, and added another scar to the gallery of them on your arms. You questioned your life on these days. Because truly, you didn’t see a reason why you should be here right now. No, you weren’t proud of it. But who was there to stop you? Why should you quit if it was the only thing keeping you sane right now? When it was only the stinging pain who could make you slip out of the monotone haze in your mind, for at least a little bit time.

But it would be stupid to assume felix didn’t notice something was off. Lee felix was a pure person. Someone who could make even the rainiest days shine bright. And he cared about the people he loved more than anything else.

When you started cancelling plans it was already alarming for him. You were someone who never cancelled plans with him. You were usually a happy person, someone who made jokes that were actually funny. Someone who made him laugh with your little quirks, that he noticed over time. Someone who comforted him when he felt bad. And most of all you were the most excited person when you two would meet up. You never missed to tell him how much you loved him, that he was your happy person, and your comfort person.

That was before

Before suddenly everything stopped. He rarely got to see your beautiful face now anymore. You took a long time to respond to his texts, and when you did, they were short, and dry. This didn’t feel like you. Felix knew you. And that wasn’t you. This wasn’t the happy girl he met. And he surely wasn’t planning on letting things go like this forever. Something wasn’t right. And no matter what you said or did, to try and get away from him, and shut everything out, he would stay by your side. He would find out what was wrong and do everything possible in this world to make you feel like yourself again.

It was another day today. Another number on the calendar. You stopped looking at it. It didn’t matter anyways. Those were just numbers on paper, and they would never change anything. So you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling even heavier than usual. Like a zombie you just quickly got dressed, not even registering what you were wearing, and drank a mug of coffee. It would make you feel a bit more awake for at least a few hours. Eating breakfast had become impossible in the last few weeks. You were barely eating anything the whole day, to be honest. Sometimes, you just couldn’t stand up and make yourself something. But most times, you just didn’t feel hungry.

You went your usual way to work. At the bus, you took a short glance at your phone. You used to be on your phone a lot for the silliest things, but now you hated it. You hated the brightness, and that everytime you looked at it you had to interact with others. And the worst was, it remdinded you of what you had lost. The spark you had in your eyes on photos from a long time ago.

Something popped up on the screen

A message from felix. Of course. He messaged you every single day. You couldn’t ignore him, no matter how shitty felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore him. So you opened it.

Hey sunshine<3How are you today? I thought of maybe grabbing some takeout and watching a movie together tonight, since i have off early! I’ll even let you pick one of those cheesy romcoms you love so much. Love u^^

You sighed. He was still so sweet, so caring, when he should be really annoyed, right? His girlfriend was a walking zombie, why didn’t he already break up with you?

Hey lix, sorry no time today.

Then you quickly put your phone away. You couldn’t stand thinking of his lips turning into that sad pout, when he’d read your answer. But you couldn’t meet him. You didn’t care how stubborn that was, but you wouldn’t let him see you like this. He would see right through you, and get you to tell him what was wrong.

You stopped making excuses someday. Who even cared? Sooner or later he’d leave, just like your friends. No lame excuses would matter then. Someone like you was unlovable. And that would never change.

As felix read your response he sighed.

That was enough. He wouldn’t let your relationship carry on like that. He wouldn’t let you carry on like that. Something was clearly wrong and he wouldn’t stand so far away and watch you slowly shut down from the entire world. Not anymore. Tonight he would come to your apartment, if you wanted to or not.

You didn’t remember what you did throughout the day. When you tried to recall it, there were only hazy memories, covered in a grey, thick fog. You didn’t even remember how you came home. Everything just happened. Now, you were walking through your apartment door, kicking off your shoes and coat. With a deep sigh, you dragged yourself to the bathroom. You shut the door, immediately sinking down on the floor. You were exhausted. More than that. The past days, or maybe even weeks you had held everything in more than usual. You felt like passing out right then and there, on the cold bathroom tiles. But there was something else. You knew that feeling. When you would have spent too many days in numbness, then at one point, every emotion, everything you thought wasn’t there before, creeps up in your throat from the depths of your soul. You feel the grieve, the sadness, the anger, the guilt, every single emotion crashing down on you at once. And then you can’t stop it anymore.

Tears started to well up in your eyes, and you pulled your knees up for a bit comfort.

These were the moment you hated the most, besides the numbness. Being numb is uneblievably tiring, but when all the feelings, everything comes up at once, that is even worse. You never knew how to deal with your emotions well. When you were a kid you never got the chance to express emotions. Crying was not allowed. If you did, you’d hear „ Stop it, or i’ll give you a reason to cry.“ If you screamed or hit out of anger you’d get punished in some way. Only a polite smile was, what was allowed to show on the outside, what to show to other people. That was probably part of the reason why you’d grown into a person who had these unhealthy, shitty habits, instead of expressing and coping with their emotions well.

You knew you should just let it pass. Endure these feelings. Maybe text someone to try and distract yourself. But somehow, you always went back to drowning out emotions with physical pain. You took the sharp blade from the bathroom drawer, your hands going unbelievable shaky like they always did when you took it out. You only started to cry more. You hated that you did it. You hated that you were a person that couldn’t handle their own feelings like a responsible adult, and had to shut them out with self harming instead. And still you did it again and again. You hated the way your arm looked when you put your sleeve up now. White lines from old cvts. Slightly reddish ones from some that happened some time ago. And those brightred ones. Reminders of not too long ago. They made you so angry. Reminding you of who you were. Of what you were.

So you decided to look away. You just put the blade to your wrist, looking at the blank bathroom wall. It was already so familiar, you knew where it would hurt the most without even looking.

Felix was searching around his apartment for that gray hoodie you wanted to have everytime you saw him wearing it. Maybe it would cheer you a bit up. As he finally found it, he grabbed the brownies he had made for you earlier, and his keys, heading out his apartment, to head to yours instead.

He started his car. It was a short drive so there was not much time for thinking. But there were some thoughts in the back of his head. Wasn’t he overstepping? You clearly didn’t want to see him, maybe you were also just annoyed?

But felix shook those voices off. He knew you. He had known you for years, and this wasn’t you. He had to do this.

And then he was already at your apartment. Slowly he got out of the car, taking the things, and started to walk up the stairs.

Soon he was in front of your door. Should he knock? He knew where your spare key was but he didn’t want to be respectless. So he softly knocked on the door.

„Y/n? It’s me, felix. I know you didn’t want to meet, but… i was worried. Can we talk please, my love?“

He waited for a minute. But there was no answer. Maybe you really weren’t at home? He decided to just try it. To his surprises the door was unlocked. That meant you were home, but also why would you let your door stay unlocked? He sighed, and locked it from the inside. He quietly took off his shoes, and put them on the side. Yours were scattered messily on the floor, and your coat too. Usually you hated when something in your apartment wasn’t organized. Maybe you were in a hurry before. He went into the kitchen, wich was dark, putting the brownies on the counter. „Y/n?“ he softly called out again. Still no answer.

But there, suddenly he heard something. A quiet, mumbling or...crying? His brows furrowed and he tried to follow the sound. There. In the bathroom. It seemed like you didn’t hear him calling you. At first he considered just going back to your kitchen and waiting there for you to come out, but when he heard another deep sob from you, he knew what to do. Whatever was going on right now, he wanted to be by your side. So he took a deep breath and opened the door.

„Y/N, what is g-“ His eyes widened in shock, and your head perked up immediately at the door clicking open, your gaze changing from surprise, to confusion, to somewhat realization and guilt. The sight in front of him horrified him. His beautiful, lovely girlfriend sat on the bathroom floor, her face red and puffy from crying, and a sharp blade in her hand. And your arm… How couldn’t he notice? He just stood there, in the door, staring at you.

You couldn’t read his face. Was he mad…? Of course he’d be mad. You quickly reacted as you got to your senses again. You jumped up, letting the blade fall, and a drop of blood dropping down on your white bathroom tiles.

„Felix…. I can explain, i h-haven’t, it’s not what it looks like o-okay? I’m okay, p-please i know you’re mad but-“

You got cut off. You couldnt’t even say anything more, because suddenly you were wrapped up tightly in your boyfriend’s comforting, warm embrace. You forgot how good a hug from him felt… And when you got a little glance at his face that was it. No anger, no twisted kind of any emotion against you. There was pure sympathy and love. When you also saw a tear rolling down his face, you couldn’t take it anymore. You buried your face in his neck, and let go. You sobbed uncontrollably, your arms and legs trembling so much, to the point your knees gave in, and felix slowly sank to the ground with you. Why did the cvts on your arms suddenly really hurt for the first time? He had you pulled on his lap, rocking you back and forth, stroking your hair gently. „Shhh, it’ll be alright. I’m here now, you are not alone.“

Good thirty minutes later, your sobbing had stopped, and only warm paths of tears remained on your cheeks. Felix lifted your head from his neck a bit, so he could look into your eyes. Though you had just cried your heart out, it was still the most mesmerizing pair of eyes he had seen in his life. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

„Let me treat those, okay?“ He simply said, glancing at your cuts.

He was gentle. He desinfected every single cut, apologizing every time you hissed at the sharp pain. Then he put some healing ointment on your fresh ones, and some at your older ones too. Then, with gentle, calm hands he bandaged your arms. He ended his treament with featherlight kisses on them. Then he got up, helping you up too. He had his hands on your side, his eyes on your face.

„Love…I won’t ever judge you, or get mad at you for anything, i hope you know that okay? I know that this is probably your way to cope with things, and i know that you know it’s not healthy. But it’s okay. Please just promise me, you will come to me instead of doing that, from now on hm? Everytime you want to do it you call me, text me, whatever. I’d rather have you crying in my arms for hours, venting to me for hours, you screaming at me, or do whatever you need to, than have you hurt and bleeding entirely alone on the floor. I’ll come over, and do whatever i need to, to cheer you up alright? And don’t shut me out from your life. I want to be a part again. I miss the way you’d text me when you see something that makes you smile. Or when you send me pics of the cute cats you saw on the sidewalk. Or when you just simply tell me about your day. And most important of all, i’ll stay by your side okay? No matter what. I will do everything to help you recover, and build up your life in a way that makes you happy okay? Let me help you sunshine. You don’t need to do it all alone.No matter how hard it in the past was, I’m here now, and I don’t plan on leaving soon.“

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time you smiled at him. „Okay lixie. Okay. I’ll try.“

Then he softly smiled at you, and guided you to your livingroom, where he made you sit on the couch. He rushed off to the kitchen, and was soon back again with a plate of brownies and his gray hoodie. „It seems like you didn’t eat much lately, you’ve been getting a bit too skinny, love. But don’t worry, now i’m here to feed you with everything you want to eat. You don’t need to move a single finger.“ He mumbled, as he first handed you the hoodie, wich you put on immediately and snuggled into it. It had always been your comfort hoodie, since it was big, fluffy, and always smelled like him a lot. Then he put down the plate in front of you. Felix’ brownies had always been one of your favorite things. They were delicious like no one else’s.Everytime you asked him what he was throwing in there, he always told you that it was his love and care wich he made them with. You believed him, this man made everything better with his sunny personality.

You simply smiled at him, and took one of the brownies, taking a big bite

„That’s my girl.“ He chuckled, ruffling your hair. As you were munching, and he was watching you with a fond smile, he suddenly asked „Do you have a marker somewhere here?“ You looked up, raising a brow. „Yeah, in the drawer over there i guess, why?“ He just stood up, and opened said drawer, taking the marker. He was back by your side in an instant. „Please give me one arm love“ He said, politely like always. You were still pretty confused but how could you say no to that? So you slowly laid your bandaged arm in his hands. He kissed it once and then softly started to draw on it. „What are you doing?“ you asked, mouth full of brownie.

„Those my love, are battle scars. It isn’t beautiful how you got them, but they are a part of you now, and they make you the person you are. They deserve to be called beautiful now too, like every single body part of yours. I love every part of you. And when they are healed, I’ll kiss each and everyone of them, but for now, they deserve to be treated with care. They will only heal properly, if you let them. If you’d always be angry when you’d look at them, they would never really heal. You would never really heal. You need to forgive yourself, and someday you will be able to move on. They show how far you’ve come, that it was very hard, but you never gave up. Battle scars, my love.“

You looked into his eyes. He said all that so sincere, you believed every word. And then as he was done you saw what he did. A lot of little stars, and a pretty moon in the middle were drawn on the bandages. And next to the moon he wrote a little note

„Because i want you to never forget who you are. You are Y/n L/n, a fighter, and the most beautiful woman i know.“

„How did i deserve you lee felix?“ You murmured in awe.

„You deserve the world, and more my love.“

And that really was a turning point. Thanks to felix, your days weren’t dull anymore. He was always there with you, laughing and talking a lot, but he also respected when you wanted some alone time. And when you came to him somedays, crying and telling him that you wanted to do it again, he took you in his arms, wrapped you both into a blanket and rocked you back and forth, until no tears were left anymore, and the world seemed a bit brighter again. Then he mumbled soothing reassurances into your hair, kissing you on the forehead.

And like this, you were willing to try. You were willing to try and recover, and create a life that you loved living, with him in it.

a/n: now a note to: @athenawindwolf because I didn't have the courage to say it that night ( we ignore that i'm writing this while you are texting me,still in that night), i'll be your chan friend, and in the context of this fanfic your felix friend, whenever you need me. I hope yk, I never judge anyone, and i've been through a lot too so rlly i would never ever judge or tell anyone if you tell me smth. We said we r the big sisters of our friends now, so that means we r sisters right? Come to me whenever you need to talk. Now this was for u, and I also have to say i'm thankful someone is sharing one of my interests now<3 Ily di angelo.@athenawindwolf (and i hope i didn't make you cry with this fic)

[edenesth]

Arrows and Affection

Pairing: warrior!Yeosang x fem!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Admiral Kang never misses his mark—until today. No matter how many times he draws his bow, the bullseye remains untouched. The wind hasn't changed, nor has his skill faltered. The only difference? The presence of a certain someone who has somehow turned his unwavering focus into a battlefield of its own.

Genre: fluff, comedy

A/N: Y'all when I saw these damn pics Yeo posted, I knew I'd have to write something. Then I heard Fallin' by Bang Yedam and couldn't stop thinking about this scenario.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

I still cannot believe this man is real.

The thought echoed in your mind as you struggled to tear your gaze away from him. With effortless precision, Kang Yeosang drew his bow, his stance steady, his movements practised to perfection. Years of training had made archery second nature to him—so much so that watching him was almost hypnotic. He wasn't just any warrior; he was the Admiral Kang, the youngest and most revered commander in Joseon, a man whose victories in battle had cemented his place in history. And yet, despite his fearsome reputation, you still found it surreal that you could stand this close to him.

"Wh-what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here right now!"

The urgent whisper jolted you from your thoughts. A senior maid stared at you in horror, eyes wide as she took in your pitiful attempt to hide behind a paper door—one that did little to conceal your presence. You flashed her a sheepish grin and waved the washcloth in your hand. "Relax, I'm just cleaning. No one pays attention to a maid doing her job."

She sighed, exasperated. "That may be, but the admiral specifically requested complete silence during his training. We cannot risk disturbing him."

You huffed. "Well, then that doesn't make him a very good archer, does it? If he's truly the best, he should be able to shoot well anywhere. The battlefield isn't exactly a peaceful place, now is it?"

Her face paled at your audacity, and she frantically motioned for you to lower your voice. Then, as if realising she wouldn't win this argument, she reached for your washcloth. "Please, just this once, listen to me. Besides, you know very well you're not—"

Before she could finish, you pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. "I've been good all week, haven't I? I did everything you asked—no complaints. Just let me stay here for a bit and enjoy the view, yeah? You can have my meal again tonight," you added with a wink.

She shook her head, already resigned to her fate, too tired to argue or remind you that everything you had done over the past week was merely your duty. "Fine. But promise me you won't distract the admiral, and make sure you return to your quarters before—"

"I will, I will," you interrupted, beaming. "And I promise, you won't get in trouble because of me!"

You clapped soundlessly in victory as she handed your washcloth back, shaking her head in disbelief before walking away. But not before shooting you one last pleading look, silently begging you not to cause any more trouble. You only grinned in response, sticking your tongue out playfully and waving goodbye before returning to your so-called task—wiping down an already spotless door. A door that, conveniently, gave you the perfect view of the admiral, deep in focus as he trained.

A small sigh of awe slipped past your lips, your earlier mischievous grin softening into a dreamy smile as you watched him. He checked his bow with practised ease before getting into position once more, gripping it firmly. You bit your lip, anticipation bubbling inside you—this was your favourite part. He raised his bow, holding an arrow in place, lifting it just high enough to aim. Then, with calculated precision, he closed one eye to focus on his target.

Damn.

This pose—this was the one that always left you weak in the knees. Just when you thought he couldn't possibly be any more attractive, he went ahead and proved you wrong. Every. Single. Time.

Despite his fearsome reputation on the battlefield, Admiral Kang was, at heart, a little... adorable. When he wasn't fighting wars, he always seemed lost in his own world, absentmindedly staring at whoever was speaking to him with that cute, dazed expression. He was a unique character, to say the least. And maybe that was why you loved seeing this side of him even more—the version of him that was serious, focused, and completely in his element.

It was just so freaking hot.

Until it… wasn't.

Your futile wiping came to an abrupt halt as you furrowed your brows, watching the unfamiliar scene unfold before you. For the first time in all the years you had known him, he let out a sharp curse, frustration flickering across his usually composed face. He reached for another arrow, aiming with a little more force than necessary. Your gaze darted to the target board—only to realise that he had missed the bullseye.

Your mouth fell open. He missed?

A tiny gasp escaped you because, quite frankly, that was unheard of. Admiral Kang never missed—not once since he had built his legendary reputation. It was practically the first rule of the universe: the sun rises, the rivers flow, and Kang Yeosang hits his mark every single time. Yet here he was, missing the target like some rookie foot soldier.

You bit your lip, suddenly concerned. Was he okay? Maybe today just wasn't his day. Maybe that's why he had insisted on training alone.

And then—thunk! Another miss.

Your concern quickly morphed into something else entirely as you took in the sight of him, all tense muscles and narrowed eyes, jaw clenched in frustration. Oh. Oh no. Why was this... hot?

You didn't think you'd ever witness the day Kang Yeosang would be this visibly mad—not at you, not at anyone, but at himself. And somehow, instead of feeling purely sympathetic, your brain short-circuited with an entirely inappropriate thought: angry Admiral Kang was stupidly attractive.

His brows knitted together as he grabbed yet another arrow, muttering a string of curses under his breath, his voice lower and rougher than usual. It was such a stark contrast from his usual soft, slightly dazed self that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Oh, this is dangerous.

You had to press a knuckle to your mouth to stifle the delighted squeal threatening to escape. Because good god, if this man got any hotter, you might just pass out right then and there.

"Goddamnit," Yeosang cursed under his breath, his eyebrow twitching as his fourth shot missed its mark.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, forcing himself to quell the frustration bubbling inside him. He couldn't believe he was letting this affect him. He wasn't a fool. He was the youngest admiral in Joseon, after all—he had noticed your presence the second you stepped foot inside.

But he hadn't said anything.

At first, he assumed it was just some clueless new maid who had wandered in, unaware of the rules. He was ready to ignore it altogether. But then—he heard your voice. His sharp hearing picked up on your hushed negotiation with a senior maid, who was desperately trying to shoo you away. His pulse quickened.

It was you.

And like a complete idiot, instead of brushing it off, he found himself wanting to impress you. That's where he had gone wrong. His focus had wavered, and now, for the first time in his career, his shots were landing anywhere but the bullseye.

Who knew a single woman could have such an effect on him?

Annoyed—mostly at himself but also at you for making him embarrass himself like this—he finally cleared his throat, loud enough for you to hear.

"Just how long do you plan on hiding there?" he called out, finally turning toward your direction.

He had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing at your absolutely pathetic attempt at concealment. Pressed flat against the paper door like it would somehow make you invisible, your familiar silhouette was outlined perfectly against the thin material—especially with the sunlight streaming in from behind.

He sighed, setting down his bow and taking a step closer. "I knew you were there the moment you walked in. Show yourself."

Crap. Crap. Crap.

You thought you had been sneaky, but apparently not. If he had known you were here all along, that meant trouble—because you were supposed to be elsewhere. And, worse, he knew that because you weren't just any ordinary maid.

Your only hope now? Act like one.

With your head lowered, you stepped forward hesitantly, bowing respectfully. "A-apologies, my lord. I was only here to clean. I know you asked to be left alone today, and I shouldn't have lingered," you murmured, voice small. "I'll leave at once."

You turned on your heel, ready to flee, but his voice stopped you cold.

"Hold on a second."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Oh, no. You had promised the senior maid you wouldn't cause trouble, and now you were on the verge of dragging her into this mess.

"If you knew I asked for privacy," he mused, his voice deep and steady, "why did you come here in the first place?"

You gulped, fingers tightening around the washcloth in your hands. This was not how today was supposed to go. You had planned to admire him for a while, soak in the view, and then sneak back to your actual post. Not get caught red-handed.

"Answer me," he pressed.

Your breath hitched. His voice was much closer this time.

Too close.

"I-I was wrong, my lord," you stammered.

He sighed. "That's not what I want to hear. Because of you, I lost my focus. Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth."

Slowly, you turned—only to find him standing right behind you. There was no escaping now. No more excuses. It was time to own up to your mistake.

"I… I just—" you blurted before throwing your hands up in defeat. "I missed you, okay?! I wanted to see your stupid face before going back to my boring duties. Is that a crime?"

Silence.

Then, Yeosang smiled. "See? Now, was that so difficult?" he teased, leaning down slightly to meet your pouting face.

"You knew it was me all along?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He nodded.

"How?"

He smirked, fingers tilting your chin up until your eyes met his. "How could I not? You're far too beautiful to be just a maid, my lady."

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you huffed, swatting his hand away. "Ugh, I really thought I had you fooled."

His grin widened. "So, does this mean you finally admit you missed me? What happened to 'I don't want to see your dumb face again'?"

Your jaw dropped. "You did not just bring that up."

"Oh, but I did." He leaned in, voice dripping with amusement. "Verbatim."

Scoffing in disbelief, you pushed at his chest—though, of course, he barely budged. "You're impossible."

Turning away with a dramatic hmph, you muttered, "Go ahead, tell your mother I sneaked out. I'll take whatever punishment she has for me, as usual. Not like you'd ever stand up for me in front of her."

Before you could take another step away from him, Yeosang moved swiftly, wrapping his arms around you from behind. His voice was softer now, warm against your ear.

"I'm sorry, my love." His embrace tightened slightly. "You know how she is when it comes to the duties of a daughter-in-law. I wish I could do something, but as the admiral's wife, you have to set an example for the people. I know those lessons bore you to death, but she's only here for the Lunar New Year. Just hang in there for a little longer, yeah?"

You sighed, finally allowing yourself to melt into his warm embrace—the very one you had gone without for nearly a week.

You had been giving him the silent treatment ever since he failed to defend you when his mother insisted you attend etiquette lessons for the entirety of the Lunar New Year. You had protested, of course—this was supposed to be the one time of the year when your husband was free from his duties, a rare chance for the two of you to be together. But instead, she had taken that precious time away, forcing you into lessons you had little patience for.

Deep down, you understood her reasoning, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. You had been looking forward to this time for weeks, only to have it stolen from you. And so, out of pure stubbornness, you had refused to attend the lessons diligently. Your frustration had driven you to banish Yeosang from your shared quarters in the heat of the moment—a decision you regretted almost immediately. Sleeping in an empty bed had been unbearable, but your pride had been too strong to call him back from the guest chambers.

So, today, desperate for an escape from yet another dreary lesson, you had feigned illness and slipped away. If your mother-in-law discovered your empty room, there would be consequences—not just for you, but for the poor maid who had dared to help you.

The admiral sighed against your hair, his arms tightening around you as if afraid you'd slip away again. Then, with gentle insistence, he turned you in his embrace, his warm hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs brushed over your skin, wiping away the traces of your lingering pout.

"You're so stubborn," he murmured, his tone laced with fondness. "But I suppose that's part of why I love you."

Your heart skipped a beat. His gaze, steady and filled with an emotion so tender it made your breath hitch, held yours captive.

"I missed you too, you know," he admitted at last, exhaling as if finally releasing a weight from his chest. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to sleep without you? To wake up every morning and not see your annoying little grin first thing?" His lips quirked up slightly, but there was sincerity in his words.

You blinked up at your husband, guilt slowly creeping in.

"I know I should've defended you more," he continued, his voice softer now. "But it's not that simple, my love. I already defied my mother once when I chose you—when I turned my back on the noblewoman she wanted for me. I chose you because you are everything I ever wanted. You're bright, bubbly, and full of life. You make even the dullest moments feel exciting. And though she may not understand it now… you are the best decision I have ever made."

Your breath caught in your throat.

He let out a quiet sigh, his thumbs still tracing circles against your skin. "I just… I only want the two most important women in my life to get along. That's all I've ever wanted. I know it's not easy for you, and I know she can be difficult, but if you could just try… even a little, it would make things easier. For both of us."

Your chest tightened. You had been so caught up in your own frustration that you hadn't once stopped to consider how hard this must have been for him too. Balancing the expectations of a mother he respected and the love of his life—how exhausting that must have been.

Your gaze softened, and you lifted your hands to rest over his. "I… I didn't think about it that way," you admitted, cheeks warming. "I was so focused on my own feelings that I didn't realise how hard this must be for you too."

He said nothing, only watching you with patient eyes as you let the realisation settle.

You sighed, leaning into his touch. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "I promise… I'll try to be better from now on."

At that, his entire face brightened, relief flooding his features as he pulled you in closer. "Really?"

You gave a small nod, lips curving into a sheepish smile. "Really." Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you added, "I promise I won't be sneaking off to give you surprise visits like I did today again, Admiral Kang."

His jaw dropped slightly, and you could practically see the flicker of realisation in his expression. You had him. As disciplined and upright as he usually was, even he couldn't deny that your little intrusion today had made things far more exciting. Damn the impropriety of it all—he loved you for that.

"Oh, you little minx," he muttered, shaking his head in faux exasperation before a smirk tugged at his lips. A breathless chuckle escaped him as he dipped down, capturing your lips in a soft yet lingering kiss. His warmth seeped into you, his touch grounding you in the moment. He kissed you as if he had been waiting for this forever, as if every second apart had been an eternity.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his grin utterly boyish. "Does this mean I can move back into our quarters now?"

You huffed, pretending to think it over, watching as he waited—far too eagerly—for your answer. His hands remained on your waist, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your sides, as if afraid you might slip away again.

Finally, you sighed dramatically. "Fine. But only because I missed you too."

His laughter rang through the air, light and full of joy, before he swooped in to kiss you again, sealing your truce with all the love he had to give.

When he pulled away, neither of you moved for a moment, eyes closed as he pressed his forehead against yours again. He simply breathed—cherishing the warmth of your presence after a week apart.

He knew you had been upset, not just about the lessons but because he hadn't sided with you when you protested. But what could he have done? He was caught between the two most important women in his life—his mother, the woman who raised him, and you, the woman he vowed to cherish. It was never a choice he wanted to make, so he had remained neutral, though it had pained him to see the disappointment in your eyes.

Still, that was why he had spoken to his mother later, asking her to go easier on you. You might not have noticed, but she had—she never truly reprimanded you for your inconsistent attendance, and Yeosang had never made a fuss when you kicked him out of your shared quarters, knowing you needed space. No matter how much it killed him to be away from you, he respected your emotions.

But now, feeling the way you held onto him just as tightly as he held onto you, he was glad. Glad that you were willing to meet him in the middle. That was one of the many reasons he loved you so much.

He could still remember the look of surprise on his mother's face when he had, for the first time, broken out of his usual quiet and composed demeanour—other than the time he had first brought you home, announcing with unwavering conviction that you were the love of his life and the only woman he would marry.

It had shocked her then. And it had shocked her again when he spoke up for you, telling her how much you meant to him and how he wished for the woman who raised him to care for his wife the same way she had always cared for him.

And surprisingly, she had understood.

Truthfully, his mother had never truly been against you. At first, she had been wary—sceptical of how well a woman as lively and outspoken as you would fit into their composed and traditional household. But over time, she began to understand why her son had chosen you.

You were bright—perhaps a little too much at times—but she had come to admire your honesty. She never had to worry about a two-faced daughter-in-law who smiled sweetly in front of her but harboured resentment behind her back. You were genuine—straightforward with your emotions, never afraid to show your displeasure or your affection. And above all, the love you and Yeosang shared was undeniable. At the end of the day, that was what mattered to her most. That her son was happy.

And as the admiral held you now, he knew that happiness was right here, in his arms.

"So, tell me," Yeosang murmured, tilting his head as he gazed into your eyes, the ones he adored so much. "How exactly did you manage to slip out of your lesson today?"

You bit your lip, knowing there was no use lying when he was already staring at you so intently. With a sheepish grin, you admitted, "I told her it's that time of the month and that the pain was too unbearable to continue."

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to squish your cheeks. "And yet here you are, sneaking around in a maid's uniform just to watch your incredibly handsome husband practice. You must've been desperate for me, hm?"

You scoffed, prying his hands off your face only to squish his cheeks in return. "That's right, admiral. I came all this way just to see you fail miserably at hitting a bullseye over and over again. All because your wife was watching."

His jaw dropped in exaggerated offence as he gasped. "You wound me, my love," he declared dramatically before bending down to retrieve his bow. Then, with a smirk, he held it out to you. "If you're so clever, Lady Kang, why don't you show me how it's done?"

"Gladly," you shot back, grabbing the bow with confidence—only for your bravado to falter the moment you realised just how heavy it was. Your arms wobbled slightly under the unexpected weight, but you cleared your throat, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Your husband noticed. Of course, he did. But to his credit, he bit back his laughter, unwilling to embarrass you further. Instead, he simply watched, eyes gleaming with fondness. If only you knew how much his heart swelled with pride and affection at this moment—seeing you attempt something he had always wanted to teach you. He had dreamed of this for so long, hoping to pass on at least the basics of archery, if only as a means of self-defence. But the opportunity had never come—until now.

Clumsily, you reached for an arrow, fumbling slightly as you held it up. He softened, stepping behind you in an instant. His arms slid around you, one hand lifting the bow's weight with ease, the other steadying your trembling grip as he helped you pull the arrow back.

You glanced up at him, feeling the warmth of his breath near your ear, the solid comfort of his presence surrounding you completely. You had never felt safer. It was moments like these that reminded you just how much pride you had in being his wife. That even after everything, you still found it hard to believe that this man—this strong, kind, and loving man—was truly yours.

"Now focus and aim," he murmured. "We'll release when you're ready."

Nodding, you focused on the target, narrowing your eyes as you slowly closed one to improve your precision. You adjusted the bow slightly, remembering one of the things he had always told you—aim a little higher than your target, especially at longer distances, because gravity will always pull the arrow down.

"Ready," you whispered.

And then, together, you released. The arrow soared through the air, cutting cleanly through the space between you and the target. And for the first time that day, an arrow struck the bullseye.

We did it!

You blinked in disbelief, your eyes locked on the arrow firmly lodged in the bullseye. Slowly, you turned to your husband, who stood beside you, mouth slightly agape.

"Did you see that?" you gasped, your excitement bubbling over.

Yeosang let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "I must be dreaming. My wife, an archery prodigy?"

Grinning, you nudged him playfully. "Maybe I should take your place as admiral instead."

He clutched his chest dramatically. "Stealing my title already? You truly are ruthless, my love."

Before you could react, he suddenly scooped you up into his arms with ease, making you yelp in surprise. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Yeosang! Put me down!" you giggled, squirming in his grasp.

"No can do," he hummed, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You impressed me today, so you deserve a reward. And since you did lie your way out of lessons just to see me…" He trailed off, a mischievous and suggestive glint in his eyes.

Your brows furrowed in suspicion. "Yeo, what are you planning—"

Before you could finish, he started making his way toward the exit. But just as he reached the doorway, he stopped abruptly. Because standing right there, about to step in, was his mother.

You gasped, tightening your hold around your husband's neck as he froze in place. "M-Mother…" he stammered.

Old Madame Kang's gaze flickered over the scene before her—her daughter-in-law, who had earlier complained of agonising menstrual pain, now dressed in a maid's uniform, being cradled in her son's arms. She blinked. You swore you saw her eye twitch.

"I-I can explain," you started, and Yeosang quickly set you down, clearing his throat and smoothing down your ruffled hair and hanbok as if that would somehow make things better.

His mother levelled you both with a withering stare. "Please do."

You gulped, exchanging a nervous glance with him, both of you shrinking under her sharp gaze like children caught red-handed.

"She just missed me, Mother," Yeosang admitted, gripping your hand firmly. "She didn't know how else to say it, so she… snuck out to see me."

A beat of silence passed.

Then, to your utter shock, the elderly woman rolled her eyes. "Is that it?" she huffed, exasperated.

You both blinked. That was… oddly forgiving?

She crossed her arms. "You couldn't have just told me? Why go through the trouble of sneaking out and dressing like a maid just to see your own husband?" Her expression softened, though her tone remained firm. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? I brought you herbs, only to find your quarters empty. I came here to inform my son that you'd vanished, and instead, I find the two of you making fools of yourselves…"

Your eyes darted to Yeosang, who looked just as stunned as you felt. Was this really happening?

"…I swear, you two are impossible," she muttered, shaking her head. Then, as if realising just how ridiculous the situation had become, she pinched the bridge of her nose, suppressing what you swore was a reluctant smile. "So, I take it there was never a real period?" she asked, arching a brow.

You swallowed, nodding slowly, unsure where this was going.

She observed you both for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small shake of her head, she finally spoke. "I'll forgive you on one condition." You perked up, hopeful—until she continued, "Give me grandchildren soon."

Your husband choked on air. You stiffened, eyes widening in sheer horror as heat flooded your face.

Meanwhile, your mother-in-law remained entirely unbothered, watching your reactions with the calm of someone who had just commented on the weather. "Well, now that I know you're perfectly healthy, I'll be on my way. See you at your next lesson."

And with that, she turned and strode off, leaving you both rooted in place, still processing the absolute chaos she had just unleashed.

The moment she disappeared down the corridor, you exhaled a breath you hadn't even realised you were holding.

Yeosang cleared his throat, glancing at you with a look that was equal parts mischievous and smug. With exaggerated flair, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a playful kiss to your knuckles.

"Well, you heard her loud and clear, my love," he murmured, his voice rich with amusement. "Shall we begin fulfilling our noble duty right away?"

Your eyes widened in mortification. "Kang Yeosang!" you hissed, smacking his arm harder as your face burned. "She can still hear us!"

And sure enough, a quiet chuckle echoed from down the hall.

Your husband only laughed, unfazed, before intertwining his fingers with yours and gently tugging you forward. "It's fine, my love," he teased. "She understands."

Hand in hand, the two of you strolled back to your chambers, his warmth a steady comfort beside you. His lighthearted humming filled the air, and when he stole a fond glance at you, a smile tugged at his lips.

The admiral had never imagined he could feel anything but frustration over a missed shot—but as he reflected on everything that had unfolded, he realised that if losing his aim led to moments like these, perhaps a little imperfection wasn't so bad after all.

No bc I just love how I started this with a vision and somewhere along the way, I didn't know how to end it so I just kinda winged it lmaooo hope this was decent HAHA

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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Could I get action prompt 19. with Anaxa pwetty pwease? 🥺🫶 Anaxa being person A in this scenario

˖ ࣪⊹Anaxa x Reader

Prompt: 19.A tries to hide their blush from B by turning their head away, but the latter doesn’t let them

A/n: Thank you! <3 I hope you enjoy this! And for anyone wishing to make a request like this for my 1.5k event, please let me know which section the prompt is from! This anon sent another ask after this one to let me know about the prompt :)

Contents: GN, reader, fluff, Anaxa may be a little ooc </3, lemme know what you think!

Words: 434

Ko-fi

Anaxagoras sensed sensed it coming before he even knew it, he knew he was in trouble when you let that line slide past your lips, eyes glimmering with mischievous intrigue as your eyes found their way up to his face soon after.  Watching for a reaction.

He would not have been so alarmed had they been in public, oddly enough he has lesser control of his plain face in private, as if his own body was succumbing to your every whim. He scowled, setting a deep expression on his face as he rolled his eyes at you. “How uncouth, even for you, to even think of saying that so boldly” he threw at you, still able to hold onto your eye contact, but the heat fighting to rise to his cheeks was undeniably there. His collar suddenly felt too suffocating, like a pair of two hands wrapping around his pale throat, and he had his fingers rising to pull the cloth ajar to let air lick at his skin. 

Your hand reached for his wrist before sinking lower, fitting your fingers through his. “Why, Anaxa, I have expected a more eloquent response from a scholar like yourself” the lilt in your voice let him know all he had to know, the sound akin to a fox that got away with one fat chicken. 

“Rule number one-” it was him who couldn’t end up finishing his own sentence as you drew closer, almost chest-to-chest with him, your hand giving him a healthy squeeze and he felt the warmth of your breath up his chin. “Hmph-” he turned his head to the side, wondering what had made his genius mind suddenly give out like a trapdoor, he felt glued to his spot. His eyepatch faced you now, and perhaps in some hasty attempt he believed that you wouldn't be able to see his cheeks that were now dusted with red. His pale complexion gave him no chance of denial either. 

“Hmm? What’s this?” you mused, head tilting to the side to hope and catch his gaze. “A scholar caught red-faced and embarrassed?” 

“I don’t understand why you’re so adamant at seeing whether I blush or not” he said in a low voice, all bark but no bite with the way his tone darkened. 

“I only want to gather sustainable proof for my theory” That got his attention, enough to make him peer at you although he did not turn his head to face you directly. “A theory? And what could that be?”

“That you’re more human than you’d like to admit”

Anaxagoras’ hand squeezed yours tighter. 

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Hello, how you doing ?

I've been stalking your blog for a while now, and finally gathered the courage to send a resquest (if you don't like it, feel free to ignore or change it).

So here's my idea: Reader comes from a family that offers their daughters to the creatures of the forest (i was thinking maybe a male harpy ?), but Reader ran away when it was her time to be taken, she moved into a big city and hid there for years.

Now she is back in her old city for some reason (maybe her sister just had a baby and she wants to see if said baby is a girl too) and her mate is looking foward to get what's rightfully his.

Kabr0z Writes episode 59: Sacrifice

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: noncon; dubcon; receiving cunnilingus; tentacles; abduction; hypnosis; mind control; parasites;

A/N: I'm taking a few liberties with the queue again, otherwise we'd have a couple of feral stories in a row. So, hellhound anon, you'll get your story in tomorrow's catch-up double feature!

As always, if you have any requests for scenarios or kinks you'd like me to explore, drop an ask or a DM, anf it'll go in the queue!

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You passed the city gates. You'd not been back for years, for good reason. When your family is a hinge of the local cult, it's less than ideal. As the eldest daughter, your fate was to be given to the so-called gods living under the city. Being a sacrifice to a horror you'd never seen wasn't your speed, so you ran. An ocean away, you hid.

That was a decade ago now. You'd never intended to come back, but you heard the news. Lily had a daughter. You'd made her promise you she'd never have a child, she'd break the line and never subject her own to the beast below. Maybe she never had a choice. Either way, you had a job to do. The plan was simple: you'd been in touch with Lily since you made landfall, first mailing her a sending slab, then using the paired tablets to convey codes messages etched in the wax surface. Tonight was the night. You'd meet her in a cistern under the main square where she'd give you her child, Holly. Baby in tow, you'd get out of the city that night using a Ring of Recall you had tuned to your home. Once you were safe, far across the Sea of Stars, you'd raise your adoptive daughter.

She'd never know the importance of her bloodline, or the terrible fate she'd been spared.

You jumped from the cart you rode in on, the less the people you trusted to get you here knew, the better. Worst case scenario they think you're a thief or something on a heist. In a way, that's precisely what you were. Your first stop was an alms-house you knew about. Old, run down, a den of disease and suffering the gentry and the guards all ignored. Nobody's asking questions about who comes and goes from there, even less in the dead of night. The perfect place to lay low until the right time. You took the opportunity while there to swipe a blanket or two. You weren't worried about disease, potions are cheap enough, and you only needed it to cover you from the grotty lodgings to the network of sewers and drains under the city.

So you sat. In that stinking hovel. Turning the enchanted copper ring that would get you home over and over in your fingers. It was probably worth more than the building you hid in, but only you new that. Lily had advised you to get one made, getting it bound to a spot so far away wasn't cheap, but it was doable and you'd paid for the best you could get.

The appointed hour drew close. Covered in blankets, affecting a hunch, you scurried down an alleyway to a loose grate. Amazing how nothing ever gets fixed in the bad parts of town, even after so long. The pile of blankets muffled you closing the grate behind you before stealing into the dark. You knew these tunnels. They were your favourite haunts as a teen, playing with your little sister, fantasising about getting away and growing old together. You both knew it couldn't ever be. The cistern was your home from home. You hung sheets from the ceiling once upon a time, dividing the upper level into rooms of sorts. The grating making up the floor stayed dry enough and with some blankets and rugs didn't even hurt your feet to walk on.

It was like you'd never left.

The blankets were still vibrantly coloured, if a little rat-gnawed at the bottom edges. Your blankets were gone, so you could see through the grate to the dark water glinting below, but you knew the layout.

Lily waited for you in the centre of the cistern, under the grate in the pavement that led straight down, the moonlight hitting her in a silvery beam as she cradled a swaddled bundle in her arms.

"Lily, it's me" you whispered.

Your sister turned. You could see her robe was open at the front, the infant in her arms latched onto a breast. Your eyes drew down to her belly, round and gravid

"You have another one on the way?" That wasn't part of the plan "I think I can recall with you both, but I'm not sure... Why didn't you tell me?"

Lily stood there. Silent as the grave. She started to chuckle "Put on your ring"

"What? That'll take me home, I need you to pass me Holly so she'll be safe"

Lily didn't meet your gaze as she handed you her baby. The infant fussed in your arms as her mother's milk was taken away

"I'll come back for you. I'll bring another ring." You put on the ring.

The world swam. You saw, for a moment, the morning sun of your home, but when it cleared you were back in the cistern, clutching the child. The ring was on your finger. It nearly worked. Why didn't it work?

Lily took the baby from you and looked into your eyes.

You screamed.

When you were kids, her eyes were hazel. The colour of evening sunlight on dry grass in a heatwave. Now they were a milky blue-white. Pinhole pupils stared into you.

"When you ran, they made sure to protect me. The masters wanted me to be their sacrifice, but I needed to keep the blood. When Holly was born, I became ready, but someone needed to take her place."

A wet hand grabbed you from behind. You tried to spin and hit it, but your head was still light and you stumbled. You fell to your knees, cutting your hands on the floor grating as a hand closed around your throat.

It hauled you up. You looked into the cruel amber eyes, wide glowing orbs set in a twisted face. It didn't have a nose, or brow ridge, its head was pointed like the mantle of a squid or a cuttlefish, but the most striking part was where its mouth would be. Instead of a jaw, there was a mass of squirming, writhing tentacles. It hissed at you as you glared at it, kicking the air, trying to break the iron grip on you.

It waved its other hand. Your clothing unravelled. The sending slab clattered to the ground, the ring still inert on your finger, everything else fell in rags to the grating below you. Being naked wasn't going to deter you. You clawed and scratched at its face and the arm holding you, nails sliding off the slimy skin.

It threw you. You slammed into a sheet and slid to the floor. It fell upon you. You were pinned.

A slick pair of hands prised open your legs. Your ankles were pressed either side of your ears. The tentacled face lowered to your cunt. The tendrils brushed against your sensitive skin as you tried to twist away from it. The first pushed into you, sliding between the lips of your cunt as it tasted you. The rest followed, squirming tentacles filling you, probing your insides. You could feel your body reacting, getting wetter and wetter as the unbidden orgasm built in your belly. You squirmed and whined, bent double by the unbreakable grip, a monster eating your pussy, not caring if you wanted it or not. Fleshy appendages squirming over every inch of your cunt, inside and out. It filled every corner with activity, from the probing at your cervix to the massaging of your clit. Every whimper, every twitch, it made sure to keep up, building your release higher and higher by the moment.

It finally let you cum. You felt yourself squirt into the wall of tentacles assaulting your pussy. More and more liquid sprayed from you as you moaned and cried, your legs shaking and toes curling. The monster didn't stop. It didn't even pause.

Over and over your aching body was forced to cum, each orgasm driving the fight from you as it wore you out. By the time it stopped, you were a gasping, panting pile of limbs. Your squirt dripping from between your legs and down into the city water supply far below you.

The monster reached into its sleeve and withdrew a wriggling leech-like creature. One hand held the lips of your cunt open as it dropped the squirming creature on your soaked pussy. It moved up you. Half-burrowing, half-swimming, it slid between the clenching walls of your cunt even as you tried to force it out. You tried to scream as you felt it pushing up your cervix, but all that came out was a lewd moan as your twitching cunt slammed shut over and over, driving itself closer and closer to another orgasm.

You felt it pressing into the wall of your womb, a stinging pressure as it drilled into the soft flesh. As soon as it stopped digging in to you, you felt a warmth pulsing from it. The pain in your belly turned to a pleasant numbness. The ache in your cunt and your stinging clit became a throbbing buzz. Your head spun again, getting lighter and lighter until it happened.

You clenched on air. Your legs shook harder as your heels planted, driving your hips upwards into a lover that wasn't there.

You couldn't stop it. You wouldn't want to. Over and over you came, the leech's secretions lighting your nerves on fire, flooding you with endorphins. The room defocused and your tongue hung from your mouth as you rolled this way and that. Your cunt leaked a cocktail of blood, girlcum, and the thick secretions of the parasite driving you mad.

A part of you knew what happens now. You'd seen the fate that befell the other women this happened to. The secretions from the leech would fertilise your womb, over and over. Every month you'd spill forth more of the leeches. The strongest would be chosen and either implanted into another woman, or allowed to squirm into a man's ear, turning him into another of the tentacled gods.

You knew your fate. The hated destiny of all of the eldest daughters of your line.

You couldn't be happier.

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Postscript: Yeah, the bonus points for this was a harpy, but I went for the horrifying not-illithid cult instead. Maybe they'll be a thing going forwards, maybe they'll be another one-and-done. I do prefer the awful tadpole queen idea rather than elderbrains just crapping out more tadpoles, though wish I'd come up with something better than just ripping off ceramorphosis for making the drones.

Either way, hope you enjoyed, Anon, and again if anyone had any requests they wanted to send in, my hard limits are in the pinned, beyond that have fun

Post-postscript: I hope the exposition at the tail end didn't kill the mood either, I just couldn't think of a good way to shoehorn that in, and it felt too hot to just miss out entirely.

[geezmarty]

Curtain Falling BTS! ✨

We're halfway through the month, which means you still have a couple weeks to grab my 2024 Shortbox Fair Comic, Curtain Falling!

I wanted to thank you for your support so far (many of you said the nicest things about it and I'm really glad you liked it!! It's the work I'm proudest of yet!) and what better way to do that than show you a BIT of the concepts and history behind it.

I will try to be as spoiler free as possible but I can't stress it enough: I think this comic is best experienced going in completely blind save for the brief description on the site.

But you can do whatever you like, so read on if you want.

I came up with the first concepts for Curtain Falling in 2021. At the time I was itching to try my hand at a short visual novel on Renpy (something that I'm still itching to do and that I may do?? Maybe soon??? My biggest maybe. Stay tuned on this page) and so I sat down and wrote a little something that didn't end up going anywhere.

(Some of the very first concepts I drew!)

The idea for the visual novel was simple, and actually very similar to the final comic: you'd get to play out a different fairy tale at a time, the eye and the mysterious woman would always be there, and the more you played the more you would find out about the truth. I always knew what the eye and the woman were, I think the only thing that changed along the way was the very ending and some details here and there (maybe I'll do a follow up about that after the fair is over).

(I drew this one while actively working on the comic but I feel like if I had stuck with the visual novel idea, this could be considered a concept for the "pick your fighter" screen)

After I shelved the idea, the concept just sort of sat untouched in my WIP folder for a long time. I would occasionally pick it up to roll it in my hands but I couldn't find an ending that felt satisfying to me.

Proto designs from 2021. The mysterious woman didn't change much but the protagonist is kind of unrecognizable to me lol

Of course, at some point last year after being accepted into the fair I was like well you know which story I'd like to tackle again. That's right. The perfect ending actually came to me halfway through production (I was set on just using what I had written down because a project that's finished is always better than a project that doesn't exist even if it's not as good) but the idea just struck me and I was actually pretty divided between it and keeping what I had gotten used to.

It was only after I was on call with a couple of friends that I decided - I presented both ideas and they GASPED and went "You HAVE to use the new one!!" that I was like well you're right actually. Let's go. This is all very cryptic if you're still here without having read the comic so what are you waiting for? You could find out what made my friends gasp if you go read it now.

There's more BTS to share but I don't want to give away too much so I'll leave you with a bit of fanart I drew in celebration of the fair starting. Thank you for reading!

[nadas-dirthalen]

Dragon Age: the Veilguard Was Packed with Lore — But Many of Us Overlooked It

— PART TWO —

[ 1 ]

Welcome back, friends and travellers. If you've been here a while, you'll know that I wrote 30,000 words of predictions in the week and a half before DA:tV released. But here's the most surprising thing—I was right, for the most part.

I spent my first Veilguard playthrough grinning (and then sobbing) at all the lore reveals. And here's the thing: I think most of us missed a lot of them, including even me.

So let's unpack some more.

Titans and Spirits: Dark and Light, Abyss and Fade, the Eternal Hymn and its Endless Listeners (2/2)

This is your warning: This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.

I've spoken a lot about the titans before. In fact, they make up the bedrock (lol) of many of my pre-Veilguard theories. While a lot of what I said a month ago has since become canon in Veilguard, there's a lot that remains as speculation.

Today, I'm going to talk about why I still stand by my theory from October: that the titans and the spirits have far, far more in common than we think, and that this is of vital importance for the next game(s).

Today's Discussion:

What Solas' Creation and Harding's Personal Quest Have in Common

Not Only Do Titans Behave as Spirits... Spirits Behave as Titans

The Dark and the Light, Sundered

Atonement Solas' Promise: He (Still) Seeks Regeneration

What Solas' Creation and Harding's Personal Quest Have in Common

Thanks to Veilguard (and the hints that came before it, if you're coming here from my previous posts), we know that Solas and Harding have far more in common than they think. Both are inexorably connected to the titans: Solas because his body was crafted from lyrium, and Harding because of how her Stone magic awoke after touching Solas' lyrium dagger.

I've theorized before that I think Solas is still connected to Isatunoll, but that the creation of the Veil altered or harmed this connection somehow. Veilguard touches on this with its implications: Solas says the blight senses his presence during the Minrathous portion of the endgame, and says during his Atonement ending that he is able to soothe the titans' anger. It also asserts, during Solas' Memory #3, that the ritual to create the Veil went wrong, wounding Solas in the process.

Both Solas and Harding, then, have to do with both the titans' past and their future. The Temple of Solasan is referenced when this codex in Trespasser mentions the titans needing to be forgotten, and we know now that Mythal and Solas would come to sunder the titans with the lyrium dagger. Solas is the reason the titans were forgotten, and is likely the source of the song "I am the One."

Harding, by contrast, is one of few dwarves whose magic has awoken. The Titan Shade in her personal quest demands that the world remember the anger and pain it has forgotten: the titans' sundering (as well as her own anger). The titans have no future without acknowledgement of their past, and so both Solas and Harding have instrumental roles to play going forward (assuming both are alive and have agreed to this).

It is evident, also, that the pain of being forgotten is traumatic to the titans. Cole mentions this several times in Inquisition, as referenced in the last post. Songs that once sang the same; titans stuck asleep, forgetting how to wake.

And here is where Solas and Harding's parallels really come to light.

This trauma forces Harding to make a choice with her Titan Shade. In every scenario, she acknowledges the Shade's pain. Her choice, then, is to embrace that pain and carry it in Compassion... or embrace the titans' anger, as well as her own. In other words, as is referenced by Stalgard...

I drew close, and the sound became something more. I could feel it, Lace Harding…. Rage, sorrow, and a vast loneliness. — Codex: Letter for Lace Harding

Rage. Harding must choose between Compassion and Rage. We've seen this before. It comes up in Down Among the Dead Men, a story in the Tevinter Nights anthology:

Following a trauma, spirits are pushed toward changing. For so long in this franchise, we called these changes "demons," and still do. But the creature itself is not different—it just exists in a different state.

Emmrich says exactly this, equating spirits and the Titan Shade.

I once communed with a soul who shared a tale of deep sorrow from his youth. "So that the truth wouldn't be lost," he said. Interestingly enough, he could only bear to recall the event after death, when the memory had lost its sting. (l cannot share the tale. A Watcher must keep the confidences of the dead.) Your experience with what you call "the Titan's Shade" brought this anecdote to mind. As you say, in the first moments of your transformation, you were unable or unwilling to confront the depth of the Titans' sorrow. But unlike my friend, this pain was never quite your own. Instead of being trapped within, it fled elsewhere. — Codex: From Emmrich, on Sorrow Denied

We see, now, that the titans do the same thing. The only difference is that Harding is connected to the titan through Isatunoll; her spirit is not, itself, inside the titan. Put through a trauma, though, the titans turn. This is something I theorized as happening to Solas' titan upon his creation, because the trauma of the elves making bodies from its lyrium caused the titan to lash out and fight back, just like Cole says in DAI.

This is why both Solas and Harding are capable of soothing the titans' anger. It doesn't matter that Harding is a dwarf and Solas is one of the elvhen: both are still connected to their titan.

But as much as Veilguard tells us about the Titans being more similar to spirits than previously thought, it does not stop there. No: if you listen closely, Veilguard whispers to you that this similarity goes both ways. Spirits are more similar to titans than we ever could have imagined.

Not Only Do Titans Behave as Spirits... Spirits Behave as Titans

Something caught my eye during my very first Veilguard playthrough, super early on. Of course, I played the whole game through the lens of my own theories, wondering if there could be a connection between titans and spirits.

Immediately I saw, on the floor of a cell in the Ossuary:

I am Nyrys I was Nyrys I we were we are Nyrys — Note: Inmate Scribbling

Immediately, I was reminded of Harding's description of Isatunoll: "It means 'I am here.' But no, not 'I.' 'I' is singular. But it isn't 'we,' either. 'We' is multiple, but also separate... Isatunoll is the eternal hymn that encompasses all time. All spaces. I am. We are. This. That. Here. There. Now. And forever."

That seems to suggest that Nyrys, an inmate who was probably turned into an abomination, might be connected to Isatunoll. The note is written almost the exact same way that Harding is speaking. "But Lore," I hear you saying, "Couldn't that just be an abomination thing, a spirit struggling to share a body?"

I thought so, too. Right up until this.

Late after— (the handwriting abruptly alters:) a PEACE cut from the ALL golden stranded weaves PROTECTION CAGE keep them OUT keep me IN (Drawn below is a decagonal diagram of perfectly even, intersecting geometric lines.) — Codex: Lucanis' Logbook, 2

Understanding that Spite is likely writing with a phonetic understanding of the common tongue, we can interpret his words as 'a PIECE, cut from the ALL.' While I cannot say for certain what the rest describes (it could be Spite's opinion on the Ossuary, a reference to the titan's sundered dreams, or anything in between)... I know that these two first lines clearly talk about a spirit who has been cut away from something larger and grander than itself. The "all."

Now that sounds like Isatunoll, to me.

If you've been here since my October posts, you know where this is going. I've got to find a way to check this idea against other sources. And the first place I go, usually? The Chant of Light, for all the Chantry's evident faults.

I'm reminded of the creation of the Maker's first and second children.

Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, The first Word, And His Word became all that might be: Dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. And from it made his firstborn. — Threnodies 5:1

That exact phrasing—"dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities"—is used both in the creation of the Maker's first and second children. The spirits and the second children's souls. It is not used anywhere else in the Chant of Light.

At last did the Maker From the living world Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. — Threnodies 5:5

I've said before that I believe that all spirits originate as thoughts—namely, the thoughts of one or more of the titans. I think that even the souls of living people apply, here, despite what some of Emmrich's codices discuss. When you consider how Solas speaks about the Inquistor's spirit in DAI, it seems apparent that (at least to Solas) spirits and souls are interchangeable terms, when they belong to a living person.

Additionally, there is a manor in the Hossberg Wetlands that features an Obsession demon locked away that Rook must kill once they get to its location. The party speculates how the demon may have gotten there, and (I believe Rook) comments on how it is possible that the person from the manor themself may have become the demon.

That would imply that their soul was capable of doing so.

Now, let's go back to how spirits (the Maker's first children) and dwarves (the Maker's second children) are in possession of the same souls, per the Chant of Light. Understanding that the Chant of Light is flawed and that I do not believe that Solas is the Maker (rather, that Solas may have come from the titan that Andraste spoke to), I want to draw attention to this verse.

Then the Maker said: "To you, My second-born, I grant this gift: In your heart shall burn An unquenchable flame All-consuming, and never satisfied. From the Fade I crafted you, And to the Fade you shall return Each night in dreams That you may always remember Me." — Threnodies 5:5

It's important to note that the Maker says to his second-born (the dwarves) that they shall return to the Fade each night in dreams. Remember: the dwarves were once able to dream. More than that, though, the Maker says that the dwarves may visit the Fade each night in dreams to be able to connect with the Maker. They were, in fact, crafted with the "flesh of the Fade," a reference made to lyrium.

That implies a direct connection between the titans and the Fade. It suggests that, once, the titans also shared the Fade with other living creatures—or, perhaps, even more. I still believe that the Fade is the collective consciousness of the titans, and that reconnecting with the Fade is part of reconnecting with the titans because of that fact.

The Dark and the Light, Sundered

In a previous post, I theorized that, because Solas created the Veil and it seemed to have sundered the titans in addition to separating the Fade from the waking world, the Fade must be the titans' shared consciousness. We know now that those were two separate acts: Solas sundered the titans and put part of their dreams into the orbs that became the Evanuris' foci. For a time, I thought that this theory must be wrong.

However, in the same series of memories, we learned one more fact: his ritual to create the Veil went wrong. In Memory #3 (Blackened Hearts), he cries out in pain during the moment the Veil is created. This not only hurt the world, but exhausted Solas. Hurt Solas.

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap." — Cole dialogue

This refers to the creation of the Veil. We know now that Solas created it, in part, to stop the blight from escaping—that would be the old dreams waking that Cole refers to. What's interesting is that Cole refers to this as Solas chewing off his own metaphorical leg to escape the trap. There was always a personal consequence for Solas referenced here.

But why? Why would being cut off from the Fade outside of dreams hurt him? Spirits exist on Thedas all the time. It is only the trauma of being pulled through the Veil against their will that turns them to demons.

To understand that, we must understand what the Fade even is. How it relates to the titans, and what that means going forward.

First, I want to take a look at this codex from Inquisition, which suggests that the water in the Abyss (the realm of the titans) may be the exact same thing as the emerald waters in the Fade.

It is possible—even likely—that the "emerald waters" Andraste refers to are the substance of the Fade, which began as an "ocean of dreams" (Threnodies 1:1) and was reduced to a well—bottomless but limited in scope—by the Maker's creation of our world. —Codex Entry: Here Lies the Abyss

There are other similarities between these two things that come up in Veilguard, if you're looking for them. The first, for me, is a codex.

What determines which sections of the physical world are echoed in the Fade? Is there an underlying logic, or glacial patterns past comprehension? Do our collective fears and longings craft what we see? The will of a mage is especially potent. We may learn to shape the Fade's pathways, if we are ever-mindful of the dangers this invites. — Codex entry: The Obverse of Reality

The phrasing here is very interesting. We know that Shaping is something that the titans once did. The dwarves, to this day, have the Shaperate, in charge of the Memories. To see that language applied to a mage's influence on the Fade implies that mages may exist the same power to manipulate the Fade as the titans did on the Stone, which suggests that the Fade and the Stone can be Shaped in the same ways. The similarity here does lend itself to a theory where the titans and the Fade are parts of the same being/collective.

The second is that one of the revenants—the Slaughtered Pillars, from Elvhenan's Haven—have a line of dialogue that jarred me the first time I heard it.

"Light and song, stolen."

We know that the titans being sundered took their songs away, for the dwarves (save for a few, now) do not hear the titans' songs anymore. It's the word light that gave me pause.

Three guesses as to where I looked for more instances of the word light. If you guessed the Chant of Light, the gigantic piece of lore with light in its title, you are correct!

The first mention I want to note is the very early in the Chant

Opposition in all things: For earth, sky For winter, summer For darkness, Light. — Threnodies 5:4

Note that Light is capitalized here, implying significance. Again, it appears here. Here, we're implying that capitalized Light refers directly to the Fade.

(11) Above them, a river of Light, Before them the throne of Heaven, waiting — Threnodies 8:11

And, lastly, and most prominently in Veilguard: the Lighthouse. Its name, in the elven language, is "Vhen'Theneras." Translated, though, that would mean, "core of dreams." Unless, of course, dreams and Light are the same thing.

But if the Light is indeed the Fade, and there must be opposition in all things according to the Maker, then where have we seen dark before?

We've seen it in the Abyss—aka, the Void. We've seen it in the darkspawn. Those blighted beings that emerge from the Deep Roads, aka the Abyss/Void. Remember that the blight itself is the escaped maddened dreams of the sundered titans. Darkspawn refers to the product of those escaped dreams—the ones not in the Fade/Light.

Crucially, the darkspawn behave in much the same way as anything connected to Isatunoll. They hear a Calling that, at first, belonged to the archdemons, but Antoine now says is coming from somewhere else, as well.

It's the description of Isatunoll that ties this all together for me: titans/their children and spirits, Abyss and Fade, dark and Light.

In a letter from Dagna to Harding, she describes Isatunoll — but in that description, she focuses on this idea that beings connected to a hivemind "know their purpose." Purpose is a word used by Solas all the time in DAI. Spirits have their own purpose.

Think about ants. Ants know what they are. They know their purpose, and they must understand, instinctually, how that purpose fits within the whole. But what if it doesn't end there? What if their consciousness isn't just individual? What if the nest itself knew what it was? A collective sentience of some kind. Nothing says the ants don't have a collective sentience. We just assume they don't, because they're ants. Ants. Or bees. Or darkspawn. Now, there's a thought. — Codex Entry: Thoughts on "Isatunoll"

What if consciousness itself is not individual? asks Dagna. What if the nest itself knew what it was? This explains the darkspawn, after all: the blighted beings who are all connected to the song of the Calling, and the maddened dreams the blight originates from.

The nest, except for that small trickle of escaped blight, is the Fade. The Fade, which is a place that responds to the collective wants and memories of those inside it. The Fade, whose pathways are shaped by the thoughts and wants of the people—especially mages—within it.

My theory is this: the creation of the Veil may have hurt Solas because Solas was still connected to his titan, and to Isatunoll. Some of his love of the Fade may be because he misses the titans' shared dreams—and, by extension, the shared dreams of every living person on Thedas (except the dwarves, and we know why that is).

Atonement Solas' Promise: He (Still) Seeks Regeneration

We know that the Fade is the collective consciousness of the Titans. Their shared dreams. We also know that not all titans are blighted, because the one in Descent is not. Harding's titan also is not, by the end of DA:tV. I posit that this is why much of the Fade, according to Solas in DAI, is far preferable to the Nightmare's domain that we get to see in DAI. Some of that shared consciousness is still healthy.

Easing the titans' anger, therefore, means fixing all of the Fade. Reconnecting the two might mean that the collective consciousness between all spirits could return to Thedas—and since at least elves' and dwarves' souls likely come from the same origin, it could do a lot to bring some of the people of Thedas together.

This, to me, is part of Solas' grand plan. It is not only to bring back the world from Mythal's time—it is to bring back the world before they broke so much of it, before the titans were sundered by his hand. After all: Solas seeks... regeneration. And that's something he promises us after Mythal leaves.

It's important to me, therefore, that Solas says the blight can feel his presence during the fighting in Minrathous. Not that Elgar'nan can detect Solas through the blight, but that the blight itself can feel him. Neve/Bellara, depending on who is taken, can reach out to protect Solas the very same way: by communing with the blight itself, feeling what it wants, and redirecting its course. We see, here, a hivemind in action.

We also know that Atoned!Solas promises to "soothe the titans' anger." This is something he promises to do from Fade Jail, implying that he is able to interact with the titans and their anger from the Black/Golden City. This implies that the Fade itself, as a realm, is a means of communing with the titans, not just a specific spot within it.

The Veil coming down was always going to un-sunder the titans, and that was always one of the true aims of Solas' goals. Even if it meant blighting the world at first and effectively causing the apocalypse, the titans would eventually feel soothed. The Veil is a wound inflicted on this world, Solas has said before... and we know now that it was.

This section, short as it is, is just me telling you that Solas is still able to achieve those ends from Fade Jail. Just because the Veil is now bound to Solas' life force does not mean that the titans can no longer heal.

This buys us valuable time, allowing the titans' anger to soothe before their consciousness is restored, so that the transition is gentler. It promises hope for all of Thedas going forward. It might even promise a healthier, more stable Fade, shaped by dream, idea, and hope more than fear.

But what will that mean for future games? What could the Fade have to do with what's to come?

Why is now the time that the Executors and "those across the sea" want to make their big planned move on Thedas? Why is now when the "poison fruit" has ripened?

Like many of you, I hope to figure it out—and I feel that every day, I get closer.

Stay tuned. :)

___

If you read this far, you're a hero, now and always.

Like I keep saying: I have to absorb this lore day by day! I cannot inhale the entire wiki in a day, much as I'd like to believe I could! That means that future posts can't adhere to a strict schedule, as they depend on me unearthing enough codices, notes, and connecting threads to provide a post's worth of material.

In future, I'm hoping to learn more about: the Forgotten and Forbidden ones, as well as the connections between them; the Executors, those across the sea, and the connections between THEM; the areas across the sea; the Devouring Storm and what it could mean for Thedas' existence... and maybe how Ghilan'nain was ever connected to any of it.

Stick with me on this journey, if you like. It's fun to keep theorycrafting and yelling with you all. <3

[loycos]

what did you make of the scene where caitlyn hits vi ? the timing of the blow was so unexpected to me…she was kinda steadying herself and then WHAM. What was going through her head ? Was she making some kind of decision ? Mind still reeling that she chose (?) to gut punch Vi to signal the end of their relationship.

well, i dont exactly know what made her make this decision. it looks like a momentary lashout based on rage. i think her rage comes from a place of betrayal, so she wants to make vi as hurt as that betrayal feels.

i actually think the "misunderstanding" thats happening here is very well written. clearly we as the audience see that caitlyn is becoming more and more unhinged. vi sees it as well. caitlyn might have missed the shot and killed a kid- her composure at that moment was very much shaken. most people, given this scenario, would choose to opt out. so to us, caitlyn being so insistent feels callous and irretional. which, it is. but lets look at it from caitlyn's perspective.

so, caitlyn feels a lot of guilt about the fact she didnt shoot jinx back at the dinner table. its very well established. she mainly blames herself, but i think a small subconscious part of her also blames vi- vi is the one who got her to hesitate, after all. the fact that she "messed up" last time and that caused so much grief and pain not only to herself, but to the 2 cities, makes her EXTREMELY determined to NEVER make that mistake again.

vi told caitlyn to not bring back up, so basically, theyre each other's only support. caitlyn agreed, that means that to her she put 100% of her trust in vi to help here and to have her back. vi told her, my sister is gone. when u have the chance, take the shot. caitlyn is convinced theyre on the same page here. so when vi turns on her, shes in utter disbelief, and she starts questioning whenever vi ever had HER best interest in mind.

thats why i think caitlyn is so obsessed with bringing up the idea of who's "side" vi is on. you could read it as "piltover vs zaun" but i think what she means is "me vs jinx". at the dinner party caitlyn didnt shoot because of vi, and she wonders whether or not the girl she sacrificed everything for would do the same for her.

and at that moment, after she missed her shots, again, because of vi, she comes to the realization that vi would never choose her over jinx. and she flips out.

now. thats how CAITLYN sees it, im pretty sure. we know there are other things at play that have affected vi's decision, and that caitlyn currently is not seeing the bigger picture. but that's what i think she felt that drew this severe of a reaction from her.

[quibbs126]

God I wish I had a good caption for this, but I do not. Best I can think of is “I depend on you”, but it also has nothing to do with the blue and yellow drawing at all

But in any case, this is a thing I drew today

I was trying and failing at giving Lux a good alt mode design, and that paired with other things was making me really discouraged, and I sort of ended up just starting to draw this, and then I ended up liking where it was going, which brought up my mood today, so that’s good

As such, I don’t actually have much context for what this scene is

It’s also featuring some more 3D elements in the design, since attempting to draw Transformers One again has put that back in my head, though since I still don’t know exactly how the forearms/hands work, it’s a bit less effective than I would have liked. But I’m slightly less sloppy with the anatomy I think, yay

I’m also now noticing Megatron looks a bit off, but I think part of that is that his arm is obscured by Optimus’, and while it made sense in the sketch, it looks a bit weird now

I also had to slightly change Optimus’ expression from sketch to lineart since the correct placement for his eyebrows would have made it so you don’t see his full expression, so I had to bring them down. It sounds minuscule but his eyebrows higher up did change the expression (it had more shock than the current more quiet concern)

I think I’m realizing that the sketch might have looked better than the final version, at least to me. Oh well

I also may or may not have went ham on lighting and shading, probably to an unnecessary degree. It’s just that this was the only image on the canvas and I really liked it, so I wanted to spiff it up, make it more nice looking

This is a version with significantly less of it, and also a white border because I was considering that before I realized it made it look a bit too sticker like. But I just think the flat colors on their own have merit too

Anyways, like I said, I don’t really have much context for this image, since it was just something I made to make something

Best I can come up with is this interaction happening sometime after Kiloton’s death, with Megatron still not over it and coming to Optimus for comfort. Optimus is a bit shocked at first (not to mention he’s got his own currently unrequited feelings for Megatron that he really doesn’t want to act on right now when Megs is emotionally vulnerable), but he chooses to comfort his friend anyways

Or alternatively, this is Megatron feeling overwhelmed about his whole lie about his infection and the terrible questions the truth brings, and again, going to Optimus to feel better. Optimus does the same in this scenario, it’s just that he doesn’t really know what’s bothering Megatron, since he refuses to tell him the truth. But he’ll be there for him regardless, hoping one day he feels comfortable enough to tell him

But yes, thing I drew that I quite like. Probably would be more impactful if the majority of the description wasn’t me just talking about the design process and my own personal nitpicks

[xaytheloser]

For Your Own Good.

Prowl X Cybertronian! Reader who was raised on Earth scenario! warnings: obsessive behavior, no specified continuity, Prowl is a delusional prick I suppose, possible ooc Prowl, implied death of a family member

Earth had been your home your entire life, from the moment your mom found you in a tiny safety pod that crashed into the backyard of her farm away from the large city she lived near. She had no idea what you were, but she knew that she couldn't leave you there, small and defenseless..

you were just like a normal human baby, but, well... metal?? you grew a lot bigger when you reached your teenage years, nonetheless, your mother took care of you. she feed you what she thought a baby of you,, unique qualities would consume, she washed you when you got dirty, and of course when you got older she taught you how to help around the farm.

there was only one rule.

stay at the farm.

mother was so worried about a scenario where you are discovered by another human. what would happen to you? would you be taken away and experimented on like those awful sci-fi movies? would you have to be on the run? she couldn't bear to think it. so she made the stern rule that you are to never leave the farm unless absolutely necessary.

...

then they came.

creatures that looked like you, made of metal, you saw them whilst watching t.v. with mom through the house window. you where so excited! finally! you found out what you were! where you came from! it was also the day that mother finally decided it was safe for you to explore outside the farm, meet the creatures that were like you, find out who and what you are. it was hard for her, but she knew that you would be alright... at least she hoped...

...

Prowl had very mixed feelings about you when you first meet him and his fellow autobots.

you were... odd. you were loud. you were annoyingly curious about everything... and worst of all, he strangely didn't seem to mind..?

something about you.. drew him in. you had no idea what you even where, and for some reason, you stuck to him the most. it was odd.. like a breath of strange fresh air..

the way you looked at him as he spoke about basic knowledge that every other regular cybertronian should know already, but you didn't.. the look of wonder and amazement you had on your face only drew him in more..

you were so strange.. yet so... endearing..?

of course he never said any of this to you out loud, but he found himself growing more attached to you, which he found ridiculous in his own regard..

you are a distraction. he would tell himself. someone who strays him from his intended purpose.

but on the other hand.. he didn't want you to leave him alone either..

he could be selfish just this once, no? indulge you in facts that every other cybertronian should know at this point.. in fact, it's not entirely selfish is it? no! he's helping you learn who you are. who you were meant to be..

It's for your own good... right? you should know where you truly come from.... in fact... he'll do you one better.. he can bring you there.

one day, he offers to bring you to cybertron, to actually be where you truly came from.. to taste actual energon for the first time.. he'll be your guide, teach you everything the is to know and more-

"no."

"...what do you mean 'no'..?"

"I mean, I don't want to go to Cybertron."

...what?

"what are you even saying? all these months of telling about Cybertron, of you constantly asking where you came from, I give you a chance to actually go there and you say 'no'-?"

"I appreciate everything you've taught me, all of it, really. but I have a home here. With my mom. I can't just leave her here. everything I know is here. on Earth."

oh yes. your "mother", Prowl had meet her a couple of times. to be honest, he never really cared for her to begin with. she was paranoid, always being so paranoid. always nagging.

... Maybe he should do something about that.

"..."

".. Prowl..? are you ok?"

".... I have to do something."

Prowl transformed into his alt mode, and he sped off.. you've never seen him in such a hurry before.. you were worried.. ....

........

you fell to your knees.. eyes wide in terror and disbelief..

the farm... your house... the only thing you've ever known since you've landed here on Earth..

It was all in flames.

"...It was the most efficient solution." Prowl muttered behind you. you turned your helm and looked at him, you opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out.. it was like you voice box was frozen.. "this place was in the way, it was distracting you. now, you can come ho-" "... wh... where's my mom..?" Prowl was silent, he looked away for a brief second, and then looked back to you.. you repeated your question, only louder, and angrier.

"WHERE IS SHE PROWL?! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOM!?"

"... that doesn't matter." was his only response. he placed his servo along you back, like he was trying to comfort you in a sick sense... "now you have nothing left to stay here for," he shoved you to the ground, holding your servos behind your back as he forced them into stasis cuffs. "now you can come back home. your real home. with me." his look softened, if only for a second..

"you may not understand it now, but I am doing what is best for you."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,988 Pairing: Negan Smith x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, after the war, Negan is imprisoned Warnings: language, innuendo (duh, it's Negan), injury, fear and anxiety, frightening scenarios Summary: Returning after the run, Daryl gives Negan a talking to and things between Negan and the reader seem like they may have changed. A/N: oh shit, oh sHIT, OH SHIT Previous part

“Well, here we are again,” you sighed, tugging open the door of Negan’s cell.

“Home, sweet home,” he quipped, staring inside. He rubbed a hand over his short hair briefly, hesitating only for a moment before he stepped inside and turned to stand in the space where the door would soon close. “Can’t exactly say I’m glad to be back.”

You had your own mixed feelings again as you shut the door and the thunk of the heavy metal latch slid into place, securely locking him inside. What would be required for him to truly earn the next step of more freedom? He’d stayed when he could have run. Surely that was something, but uncertainty churned in your stomach. You paused, one of your hands coming to grip one of the bars. You could almost taste the tension like smoke in the air. “I—I just wanted to say—”

“—that you had a fucking amazing time out there with me and you’re completely heartbroken to see it end?” he interrupted, smiling at you. “Oh, and you regret not jumpin’ my bones while you had the chance, of course.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling a little yourself. “I wanted to say thank you. I’m fully aware that the entire situation could’ve been—you could’ve made it much worse. You could’ve left. Hell, you could’ve probably killed me if you wanted to…”

Negan’s expression grew serious. “Like I said before, I don’t want to hurt you. And I have no intention of doing so.”

“Negan, if it came down to me or your freedom—”

“I wouldn’t,” he said strongly. “I already chose to stay, didn’t I? I’m—not even entirely sure why myself,” he laughed dryly. “Might regret that when I’m staring at these same four fuckin’ walls again in a few minutes.”

You felt your cheeks warm with an inexplicable flush again and you had to break the gaze between the two of you. “Well,” you said, dropping your grip on the bar, “thank you, Negan.”

He couldn’t help smiling when you said his name and he leaned forward on the bars now himself at the same moment you drew back. “Have I told you that I love the sound of my name leaving your lips, darlin’? Say it again,” he grinned. “I’m gonna imagine all kinds of scenarios in my head where you’re sayin’ my name as soon as you’re out of here…”

“Stop,” you reprimanded him.

“Aw, come on! You’ve gotta give me a little play here. Was I not a total gentleman on the outside? I kept my hands completely to myself on our dinner date.”

“Dinner date? That’s what you’re going to call heating up MREs while we were trapped in a basement with a mummified dead guy?”

He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face, chuckling a little. “Yeah! It seems pretty on-brand for the apocalypse. And by the way—don’t think I wasn’t tempted to get a little handsy. You were wearing my spare layer after all, and it’s only natural that I thought about what it’d be like to take it off of you and keep going.”

“Enough, Negan!” you snapped, completely aware that your face had to be bright red from the feeling of the heat washing over you. “Jesus!”

“Too far?” he asked, still grinning.

You ignored him. “Daryl is gonna bring you lunch.”

“Daryl? Wait—why?”

You were already heading toward the door but you turned to look back at him, continuing your progress out with a few backwards steps. You shrugged. “Dunno. He said he wanted a word with you.”

Negan swore under his breath. “Shit… He’s probably gonna give me another lecture.”

You smiled and shrugged. “Probably. I’d behave if I were you, if you ever hope to see four different walls again. I’ll see you this evening.”

“Hey! Wait!” he called after you once more as your hand was on the door. “You should go get that hand looked at. Even if they can’t stitch it, you should make sure it’s not infected! I mean look at the state of the bandage, doll.”

You did glance down at it and it was grey with dirt and dust. “Yeah, alright. I will. I’ll see you this evening, okay?”

It wasn’t long before Daryl came thudding into the room with a tray for Negan. Negan looked up from his seat on his cot and rested his book (one of the ones you’d brought for him) over his knee.

The archer put the tray down and kicked it through the slot a little abruptly, sloshing some of the water out of the cup. Negan cast his eyes up toward Daryl’s scowl. He saw the muscle in his jaw tense. He couldn’t help smiling at him. “Problem?” he asked.

“Might be,” Daryl drawled, crossing his arms, “if ya ain’t careful.”

“Oh, I’m always careful, Daryl,” Negan said, leaning back as if at his ease.

“I saw the way ya were lookin’ at Y/N out there today.”

The smile on Negan’s face faded slowly. “How was I looking?”

“You know how and I know how,” Daryl growled, pointing at him emphatically through the bars.

Negan shrugged and tried to play it off, but his heart was hammering nervously in his chest.

“I dunno what happened out there or what you think is happenin’ with Y/N, but ya better watch yerself, asswipe. If I hear of the slightest thing that’s off, if I suspect any of this ‘good behavior’ shit is an act, tha’s it. It’ll be the end of all your free time outside of these bars. Ya can rot in here for all I care. Ain’t like ya dun deserve to. And if I find out that yer tryin’ to pull some bullshit over on Y/N, if yer tryin’ to manipulate yer way outta this cell—I’ll kill ya myself.” His blue eyes were fierce and sharp and Negan gulped uneasily beneath them.

“Daryl—”

“Nah,” he snapped. “I dun give a shit about a thing ya gotta say. ‘M just warnin’ ya, Negan. Got it?”

Negan licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah. Oh, I’ve got it hotrod,” he said, following it up with a smirk, just to annoy Daryl.

“Good.” And he stalked out.

The day got away from you, mainly from sorting through the supplies, helping with the rationing, and getting yourself cleaned up after the long ordeal outside the walls and a little better rested. It was already evening before you remembered you’d meant to stop into the clinic about your hand. Anyone in the clinic surely would have left for the night already, and since it wasn’t a pressing issue, you decided instead to change the dressing yourself and check in with Siddiq in the morning.

Instead, you got a tray of food ready and headed back down the dim street toward the jail. When the door swung open you saw Negan standing at the small window of his cell, trying to perhaps soak in the last bit of light as the sun went down. He had his small lantern lit already and it cast everything in a warm orange glow. He turned at the sound of your footsteps and greeted you with a small smile before ambling over toward the cell door, hands in his pockets.

“You alright?” you asked, sensing something in the air.

“Peachy, doll,” he said. “Daryl and I had a swell chat earlier.”

You sighed heavily and gave him an apologetic look. “I hope he wasn’t too tough on you. I told him you were a huge help outside the walls.”

“Oh, he just threatened to kill me again is all,” Negan said, sinking down on the floor close to the door, fiddling with the empty water cup on the tray. “No big deal.”

You set his full dinner tray down on the chair beside you and copied his position on the floor outside the bars. “He’s—just protective. We’ve been through a lot together.”

Negan chuckled. “Protective is an understatement,” he said, scratching at his beard thoughtfully, leaning back with his palms on the cold floor. “I can’t blame him though. A guy like me with a history like mine? I probably deserve more than a little threatening.”

You gulped, feeling torn about agreeing with him or not, so you stayed silent. That divided feeling that sat somewhere deep in your chest was becoming familiar. There was a beat of silence and Negan could read worry on your face. He wanted to pull you out of it.

“Hey—you look great, doll,” he said softly. It was almost a whisper.

You glanced up at him, one of your eyebrows arching up in a question. Then you glanced down at yourself and laughed. “I showered and changed into clean clothes. It’s not like I’m in a ballgown, Negan.”

“You don’t need to be. I’d take you covered in walker guts if the opportunity presented itself,” he said with a grin.

You winced. “Gross,” you retorted. “I think you have issues.”

“Unequivocally,” he agreed. “Doesn’t mean what I said isn’t true.”

You shook your head and sighed a little. Over his shoulder, you noticed the book sitting open on his cot. “Which one did you go for?” you asked, nodding toward it.

“Oh, the western, of course. Cowboys and damsels in distress? Shoot-outs? ‘This town ain’t big enough for the both of us?’ Fuck yeah,” he said, glancing back at you, still smiling. “Thanks again, for bringing me those by the way. It’s a big improvement over the one I’ve read fifteen fuckin’ times.”

You hated that you noticed the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled and the deep dimples in his cheeks, nearly hidden in the scruff of his beard. You ducked your head, nodding and trying to clear your throat of the inexplicable tightness that had materialized there. “No problem.” Your eyes landed again on the lunch tray sitting by the slot. You were about to reach for it when you caught sight of the pebbly red shapes still on the plate. You frowned. “You didn’t touch your raspberries,” you said, nodding toward the tray in front of Negan.

“Yeah, actually, I saved them for you,” he said, nodding toward them. “You said they’re your favorite and since the crop was bad this year from the drought... you should have them. You deserve them more than me.” He nudged his tray slightly back toward the slot so you’d be able to reach them if you slipped your hand through.

You looked at him curiously for a moment, a little surprised by this particular consideration, and then reached your hand through to grab one. Before your fingers could touch the ruby red fruit, you let out a small gasp of surprise as Negan’s hand closed softly around yours. He hadn’t moved quickly. On the contrary, it was slow and fluid but you were somehow still shocked by the sudden contact. His touch was warm and gentle. His thumb smoothed over the back of your hand and slipped underneath to your palm. He turned your hand palm up so it rested in his and his thumb traced the lines from your wrist up toward your fingertips then drifted back down and pressed lightly into the concave center of your palm and ghosted up the graceful shape of your thumb. You were frozen, stunned by his touch, your lips slightly parted and your eyes a little wide, a little hesitant and questioning. You felt as if your heart had stopped and your lungs refused to work. You were finally able to tear your eyes from your hand in his, back up to meet his gaze. His expression, his hazel eyes were astonishingly soft.

“‘M sorry, doll. I didn’t mean to startle you. I couldn’t help myself,” he whispered, drawing his hand back from yours. His eyes searched yours, trying to read what you were thinking. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that since I bandaged up that other hand of yours. You have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve really had any human touch?” Your hand hovered in the air for a moment once his fingers left, and Negan picked up the remaining berries and dropped them into your palm. Your skin was still tingling from the contact and you couldn’t be sure if your heart was beating or not.

You blinked, trying to break whatever spell had settled over you, and then hurriedly grabbed his empty tray and got to your feet, nearly stumbling back from the bars.

Negan rose slowly, watching you carefully, suddenly anxious. “You alright, doll? Was that—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off quickly. “I just—I should go,” you said hastily. You grabbed the tray with his evening meal off the chair beside you and pushed it through the slot where it hit the toes of Negan’s boots.

He nodded, his eyes narrowed as he tried to read what was going on in your head. “Okay. Hey—before you go, what’d the doc say about your sliced up hand anyway?”

“Oh, uhh—I didn’t get over there today. Just—got busy. I’ll go by in the morning,” you said, already backing out toward the door.

Negan nodded. You looked half-frantic and he felt another pang of anxiety. Perhaps that had been too much… “Y/N—Look, I’m sorry if that was—”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m fine! It’s all fine,” you said hurriedly, your heart racing now. You felt slightly light-headed.

“Are you sure? Because I think you turned those raspberries into jam,” Negan said, glancing down at your hand and there was red juice dripping out between your fingers and dotting the floor. In the low light, you could’ve mistaken it for blood.

“Shit,” you swore, looking at the remnants in your hand. “Fuck me, what a mess… I—I’ll clean that up… later.”

Negan watched, perplexed and worried as you hurriedly left without another word, his brow furrowed heavily over his hazel eyes. Fuck. Had he royally fucked up? Maybe he’d be seeing Daryl sooner rather than later…

_ _ _ _ _ _

You’d hardly slept. You were overwhelmed by what you’d felt when Negan had simply held your hand in his, had run his fingers over the underside of your wrist and across the back of your hand. Your stomach was churning and you were unsettled all night, tossing and turning on your mattress and staring up at the ceiling watching the shadows change while sleep evaded you.

Fuck. This was a mess. What the fuck were you thinking? No—better question: what the fuck were you feeling? This was Negan. The man who had psychologically tormented your entire group, who had wielded the bat and murdered two of your beloved family members in front of you, who had tortured Daryl and nearly starved your community, who had ordered his men to shoot your people with poisoned arrowd.

But another voice answered. He’s not the same though, is he? He’s not him. Not anymore. You know he’s different.

It doesn’t matter. He still did all those things.

It does matter. Or do you not believe in redemption? In rehabilitation? In hope? If there’s no chance of redemption, shouldn’t you all have just killed him after the war? Why keep him alive now if there’s no future for him even if he is changed?

Fuck!

You kicked the covers off and rubbed your hands over your face as you sat up on the edge of the bed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You looked down at the bandage on your hand and remembered his concern outside the walls, not just for himself but for you. And he stayed. Surely that meant something.

Fuck.

You headed into the bathroom and poured some water into the basin, splashing it as best you could over your face with your uninjured hand. Better just start the day. Sleep wasn’t coming. You just needed to put what you felt, whatever that was that you felt, aside and do your job. Compartmentalize. You could do that. Right? You were wracked with self-doubt. Maybe you should stop before this went any farther… Maybe you should go back to Michonne and Daryl and tell them—tell them… what? That you somehow were developing feelings for Negan? Fuck. No. No, you couldn’t do that. You could handle this. It wasn’t a big deal. It was one touch. You could compartmentalize. It’d all be fine…

Your train of thought was interrupted by a throbbing in your injured hand and you were grateful it gave you something else to focus on. Right. You’d better get it checked out. You pulled on some clothes and headed for the clinic.

The door was unlocked, which was a good sign that at least someone was in. You heard movement from the back as you walked in and Dante called out, “I’ll be right there!” from somewhere among the supply shelves.

You paced around for a moment and finally settled against a nearby exam table. He came breezing out in his white coat with a clipboard in his hand and greeted you with a smile.

“Sorry about that! Inventory, you know? Still my least favorite chore, but pretty important nowadays. So, what brings you in?”

“Oh, um, is Siddiq here by chance?” you asked. You knew Siddiq well from the council and generally were more comfortable with him.

Dante clicked his tongue. “He’s not in yet. Between the two of us, I’m the earlier riser so I usually come in first. Must be left over from my time in the military,” he explained with a good-natured smile. “If you’d like to come back later today, he’ll be in for sure. Otherwise, I’m happy to help now if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s no big deal. We’re just close from the council and everything. Thought I’d say hi. I’d rather just get it looked at, I guess. It’s just this gash on my hand from the run the other day and I just figured I should get it checked out and make sure it’s not infected or anything.”

“Alright,” he said, grabbing a pair of gloves and pulling them on. “Let’s take a look.” You started to unwrap the bandage as he set out a few items. “What’d you cut it on?” he asked.

“A sharp corner or something on a metal bracket,” you said.

“Oof,” he said, peeling off the last bit of gauze as the injury came into view. “Got yourself pretty good there! Well, let’s clean it up and have a look. This may sting a bit.”

“We flushed it out and cleaned it after it happened. It did take a while for it to stop bleeding. I was worried it'd need stitches.”

“I’m not surprised! It’s pretty deep!” he said, tossing aside the used alcohol swabs. “Any pain still? I mean, when you aren’t bumping it or trying to use this hand?” he asked, giving you a knowing look.

You shrugged. “Maybe a bit. It’s throbbing a little this morning. It’s not infected, is it?”

He examined it more closely and finally sighed and shook his head. “I don't think you have an infection, no, but it does look a little inflamed and irritated. You should be taking it easy with this,” he instructed you. “Try to limit use while it’s healing. And I’m gonna give you some anti-inflammatory pain meds that should help with any discomfort and the swelling—”

“Oh, no. Really, it’s not bad. I’m fine,” you tried to argue.

He smiled and shook his head. “Always having to act like a badass, Y/N. You and Daryl! Never taking medical advice,” he laughed. “Come on. Doctor’s orders,” he said. “I’ll be right back with them. Trust me. It’ll help.” He returned quickly with a cup of water and a couple pills for you.

You relented, seeing that he was going to insist, and took them before he re-dressed your hand.

“Big plans today?” he asked, skillfully finishing the bandaging with clean dressings.

You shook your head. “No. The usual. I need to head over to get Negan’s breakfast to him.”

“Good. That shouldn’t be too strenuous on the hand,” he laughed. “Alright. All finished up. Do you want me to let Siddiq know you were looking for him?” he asked, pulling off his gloves.

You waved him off. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other soon. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. And I mean it, take it easy with that hand! Let it heal up! Come back and see me if you have any more problems.” You waved goodbye to Dante and thanked him once more before you left. Alexandria was just starting to wake up, and you headed to grab a few things from the pantry and prepared something to take down to Negan. You wondered if he was even awake yet. He hadn’t slept while you’d been outside the walls. He might be sleeping still. Maybe you should wait… The sun was just streaking the morning sky with pinks and oranges. Your stomach flipped as you again thought of what had happened last night and you did your best to swallow down your anxiety. Were you just trying to postpone seeing him? You groaned internally at yourself.

Fuck it. What did it matter if he was awake or not? You had his damn breakfast ready you might as well just drop it off.

You unlocked the outside door and pushed inside. Turns out, he was already awake, laying on his back on his cot and bouncing a tennis ball off the wall and catching it on the rebound. He sat up hastily as you came in and looked at you hesitantly, like he was trying to read your expression carefully.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi,” you returned. You set the full tray down on the chair outside his cell and retrieved the one sitting empty from the night before. Negan got up and slowly wandered toward the bars, tossing the tennis ball back and forth between his hands. You swapped out the empty tray for the one with his breakfast on it and straightened up, surprised to see him maybe a little over a mere foot from you, separated only by the bars. His eyes were flickering over your face and his expression was heavy and serious. You cleared your throat and gulped. “What?” you asked nervously.

“I just wanted to say—about last night—”

You lifted a hand to cut him off. “Negan—”

“—if that was too much or too sudden or—I’m sorry if—”

“Negan, let’s just forget about it,” you said, crossing your arms and avoiding his brilliantly hazel eyes.

He stopped trying to talk over you and licked his lips, pursing them thoughtfully for a moment. Your posture was guarded, but he forged ahead anyway. “Is that what you want? To forget about it?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Is that what you want?” he asked again.

Just answer. Why couldn’t you get the answer out. Just say ‘yes.’ “I—”

His eyes were still flickering between yours and then journeying down to your lips. Your heart started to pound in your chest. “It’s just a simple question, doll. If that’s what you want—” he shrugged, “then we’ll forget about it.”

You were trying to answer, trying to dredge up a response when you suddenly felt dizzy and lifted a hand to your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You felt sick. You felt off. Something wasn’t right.

“…Doll?”

You reached out to grip one of the bars of Negan’s cell to steady yourself. It felt like the floor was slanting.

“Hey, hey—look at me, darlin’. What’s going on?”

You shook your head in an attempt to clear the growing fog. “I—I don’t know. I feel—dizzy and—”

Negan’s alarm increased as all the color seemed to drain from your face in an instant. “Hey, why don’t you sit down? You don’t look so good. Y/N? Can you hear me?”

Negan’s voice sounded like it was coming out of a drain in another room. It was warped and muffled and your equilibrium seemed to have all but disappeared. You were having a hard time keeping your eyes open and staying on your feet. The whole room was tilting.

“Hey! Y/N? Talk to me! Can you hear me? Sit down! You look like you’re about to faint! Look at me, darlin’!”

But Negan watched with horror as your body suddenly went limp and you pitched forward. He did what he could to try to stop your fall through the bars, but there wasn’t much he could do. He was in no position to be able to support you as you fell. Despite his best efforts, your head collided with a bar near the bottom of his cell and then you lay still on your stomach, crumpled on the floor.

“Oh, fuck! Shit! Y/N?” Negan shoved his tray out of the way and knelt down, reaching through the bars to caress your hair away from your face and lightly pat your cheek in an attempt to rouse you. “Y/N, you’ve gotta wake up, doll! Come on! Wake up! Open those beautiful eyes and look at me!” He gently lifted your head and his stomach clenched as he saw blood running down the side of your face and dripping onto the floor. “Open your eyes, darlin’! Look at me! Come on!” There was no response from you, no sign that you could hear him or were at all coming back to consciousness. “Fuck! Fuck!!” he growled, panicked, looking around for something to help—but how could he? He was locked in a fucking cell.

That’s it! Keys! You had to have your keys! Maybe he could get them and get out and help you—get you to help. He was about to start patting your pockets when he caught sight of them out of the corner of his eye sitting on the seat of the chair outside his cell, well out of reach.

“Fuck!” He hung his head, his mind spinning frantically. “Y/N? Come on, you’ve gotta wake up!” He gently shook you by your shoulder, but still, you didn’t rouse. He trained his eyes on your back and could at least see that your breathing seemed steady, if a little shallow. He was afraid to move you too much. He rushed to the small window. “HEY! HELP! WE NEED HELP IN HERE!” he roared as loud as he could, banging on the glass, but unless someone happened to walk by, there was little hope of anyone hearing him through the thick pane. The window was shut and locked up tightly. “FUCK!”

“Okay… Okay,” he breathed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Keys. I have to get the keys… what can I—what can I use?” He stood and searched his cell. He had nothing. He had nothing that could reach… He needed something long enough to reach the chair and it wasn’t like he had a walking stick or wire hangers or even a goddamn belt in his cell. His eyes finally settled on his cot. He quickly snatched the wool blanket off the top and ran back to the bars. He extended his arm out between two of the bars as far as he could and flipped the blanket up onto the seat of the chair. It landed on his empty evening tray which you’d set aside there. He pulled back slowly and the tray moved slightly before the blanket slid off. The keys were still sitting behind the tray near the back edge of the seat. He had to be careful not to knock them off the back… if he did, it’d be completely hopeless.

He tried again with the blanket, frantically. And again. And again. And, finally, the tray fell to the floor with a clatter, but your heavy ring of keys was sitting stubbornly still.

He constantly stopped and checked on you, called your name, smoothed his hand over your hair, and tried to wake you. But you stayed totally still, unconscious. He grabbed another blanket off his bed and cushioned your head but was too afraid to try to move you much more.

He returned to the wool blanket and had just flicked it onto the chair again when the outside door pushed in. Negan froze and looked up at the figure that had just entered. At first, he felt a wash of relief. “Hey—doc! You’ve gotta help her. She just collapsed—fainted or something,” he said, straightening up. “It wasn’t me, I swear. I don't know what the hell happened.” He dropped his blanket by his side and gripped onto the bars, his voice and expression urgent.

But Dante didn’t rush into action. Instead, he stared down at your crumpled figure on the floor and then casually checked the time on his watch. Negan looked on, confused, as Dante smiled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Negan demanded. "You're suppose to help her!"

“She’s right on time,” Dante said, casually pacing forward to stand over you.

Negan’s teeth clenched together. “Aren’t you going to help her?!” he asked, incredulous.

Dante only laughed, a chilling sound, and walked over to the chair, scooping up your ring of keys off the seat. “Were you trying for these?” he asked, jingling them at Negan.

Negan stared back, a heavy shadow falling over his face. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I was.”