#but it's still work and it still steps on what is supposed to be my free time

[livelaughlovesubs]

Dom!reader x sub!scarletella

Warning: fictional stuff - stimulation through a separate object (?), inspired by some fanarts (artists are amazing), teasing, degrading pet names

I’m seeing so many fanarts that have this implanted and I HAVE to do something about my horniness that’s holding me back from working so, as far as I understand, for mr. Scarlettela his real body is his umbrella or it’s at least connected to him - anyway, can’t believe I’m writing about homicipher bruh, I feel ashamed T^T

!!Spoiler warning!! This is not canon but has some elements from it

He is a good boy, he really is! Well, maybe not at all times, but he’s trying his best for you. And haven’t you seen just how much he loves and trusts you? He’s basically devoted to you! Like a faithful follower~ Handing the red umbrella he always carries over to you so easily, when he normally would never let anyone touch it, let alone give or lend it. It’s just proof of how much he likes you!

So why were you so mean and destroyed it? You like him, didn’t you know that his umbrella is connected to him? Why were you hurting him. He didn’t understand, he didn’t even know what to do. Because in the end, he still liked you.

Now this over 8 feet tall creature was kneeling in front of you, head lowered in confusion as he stared at the concrete floor. You were still holding the now broken umbrella, scoffing as you stared down at his rather pathetic form. It wasn’t entirely broken, just some bend metal and rough ends, or a little tear here and there. Yet for some reason his clothes were torn and disheveled, hands shaking slightly as he kept mumbling the words ‘I don’t understand’ or ‘I like you’ over and over again. At first he seemed intimidating, but now you didn’t have an ounce of fear left.

There must have been a connection between him and this umbrella. Instead of speculating, best just ask him.

Slowly you pointed the long object in your hand at him, the tip pushed below his chin as you made him look up at you. His round, almost completely dark eyes stared right at you, one side was covered by his crimson hair. There were tears steaming down his cheeks, he was crying, how unexpected. The two of you locked eyes for a few seconds, and you wondered what you should do about this crazed man.

While their language was hard to grasp at first, you were getting the hang of it by now. “This umbrella, is you?” The meaning of the question itself was unbelievable, but since this ghost realm exists, maybe your hypothesis wasn’t that out of place. “Yes. Me body.” Look at that, you were right. That explains why he suddenly got so sad. You groaned internally and pulled your arm back, using the umbrella as a cane instead.

As you were still thinking over your next step, his hands reached out to you hesitantly, and softly tugged at the ends of your coat. After stretching the fabric out a little, he leaned his forehead against it, mumbling almost inaudibly, “please don’t go, I like you.” You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth subconsciously moving upwards as you snickered, “What?” His grip got a little tighter and his hand trembled from tensing his muscles so much, then he said a little louder, “I like you, don’t you like me?”

God you wanted to laugh, this was so sad it was laughable. How in the world did he come to that conclusion? In that moment, you had a lot to say it him, but due to the language barrier you couldn’t convey it really well. So you just talked to yourself, needing some time to vent.

“Oh you poor thing.” You chuckled in your own language, the one he didn’t understood. “What am I supposed to do with a perv like you?” He looked up at you again, wanting to ask what you said if not for your shoes that were pressing against his chest. “..what?” The person- or monster asked, but he didn’t resist your touch and leaned back, following your guidance. From earlier up to this point, he has been kneeling, just this time he was also using his arms behind his back to stabilise himself.

Without changing the almost arrogant look in your eyes, you used the gift he gave you to trace some imaginary lines on his body. The tip glided from his jawline to the tip of his chin, and you asked, “your name?” The heavy tension was something he also caught on, and he hesitated, not knowing to what this would lead. He shook his head, forcing out a “don’t know…”

You hummed slowly, showing you understood the message. Nonetheless, you continued to move the tip down his neckline all the way to his toned collarbones, “I’ll give you a name.” His eyes widened even more, it made him look objectively creepier, but you thought he looked like a dumb puppy. All big eyes, bearing a deep need and raw desire in his pupils. “How about,” then, just like drawing with a stick in the mud, you traced the word, “Scarlet,” over his chest, simultaneously voicing out the word.

He shuddered as the hard surface scribbles around his torso, squeezing his lips together while he tried to stay still for you. You weren’t being exactly gentle there. When you stopped to glance at him, he quickly nodded. That wasn’t the end to your little play yet, and you slid the pointy end across his abs and stomach, down to his thighs, making him spread them a little wider, “I gave you a name, so you’ll be my servant from now on. Understood?” This has been said in your language, but you hoped he’ll get the overall meaning.

Again he nodded. In his head, being your servant meant you liked him, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t keep him around! So how could he ever say no.

“Use your mouth.” You ordered, digging the tip into his flesh a little, and he answered shortly after, “I understand, me happy.” Sweat was forming on his forehead, and his previous crying ceased. Instead a faint taint of pink covered his cheeks, and he stared at you almost manically. “Good.” You said, which was basically a praise— right? —and he smiled, a shaky, breathless one.

A little behind you was a chair, and you dragged it closer to the still kneeling man below you. Even you were starting to get tired of standing, so you sat down in a comfortable position. “What now.” You said to yourself, not really paying him any attention anymore. It would be nice if you had a collar, would red or black look better on him? But your resources were limited, and you didn’t exactly have a lot of things with you as well. That’s when you absentmindedly thought over what you did own.

Besides that crowbar you’ve found down here, you really didn’t have a lot. Well, you also had a broken umbrella now— hold up, that’s right, you own him now. A rather sadistic thought came to mind, and you pondered to what limit you could control him with this red, unusual umbrella. Would he feel your presence when you just hold it? You got lost in your thoughts again, fumbling with the torn textile and the handle. This didn’t stop until a strange sound caught your attention.

Your eyes left the red batch of fabric in your hands, and instead wandered to the other red thing in the room. He crawled into a ball, arms folded in front of his body while his head pressed against the ground. It looked like he was in pain again, though you weren’t sure if these noises were whimpers of pain or pleasure. “You okay?” You eventually asked, and he whispered in a higher pitch, “me okay..!”

Once again your gaze returned to the umbrella. He must be in this state due to something you did, and so you tightened your grip around the handle while mindlessly drawing a line with your index finger on the panel. As expected, his shoulder jerked upwards even more, and he rolled more together, as if he wanted to take up as little space as possible. His entire body was twitching, also for some reason his coat was only hanging off his arms now.

“You are into it.” You commented, not even too shocked to learn this rather unnecessary fact. At least you can have your fill of fun with this. “What about this?” Suddenly you started moving your hand up and down the handle, rubbing the umbrella panel with the other hand. It was a truly humbling experience to do something implied sexual to a literal object, but your eyes were glued to the ghost before you, so you didn’t even notice how weird it must have looked.

And sure enough, there was a change in his behaviour, he got louder. Your smile widened involuntarily, and your pace also got quicker and rougher. Oh fucking hell, if he was really feeling that kind of sensations, you won’t be able to stop yourself. It was like you were hypnotised, concentrated on nothing but his expressions. On the different ways his face twisted into one of ecstasy.

A big, dark, lunatic grin, paired with fanatic eyes that were ripped wide open. Some hints of a scarlet blush covering his face while sweat rolled down his face. Those perverse sounds he made were proof of the probably internal pleasure he felt, and he quivered all over, still bend down on the floor. Now that you’ve got a better grasp of what was happening, you realized he was crawled together to hide something.

“Ngh, hgGnn- ah..! Please…♥︎～” he whined at your feet, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth and landing on the floor. You’ve been fumbling with the handle for some time, so you’ve gotten bored again and was curious about if the textile was a part of his being as well. Without a second thought, you simply stuck two fingers between the folds, and you were met with a heavily muffled moan.

“Arghhh-…MmmHFfffF～ ♡♡♥︎” Once he felt your touch, he bit into his own palm to quiet himself down. At some point he started crying again, glistening tears decorating his already ruined face. You didn’t think his reaction would be this good, this lewd, whatever you did, he must have liked it a lot. Which is why, despite the absurdity of your actions, you moved your fingers in and out of the holes or just randomly caressed whatever part you felt like touching.

Out of nowhere you felt something tugging at your coat again, it gave off a sense of Deja vu. Of course it was him, who was only pinching the corner of it with a shaky hand. His grip had lost any strength compared to before, and you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. “What?” You asked him, though you didn’t stop your administrations. He cried out when he opened his mouth to speak, breaking down in front of you, for your entertainment only.

“Haaaa-HnnGh… wait, p-please wait-!♡” Was he telling you it was too much? It’s making you want to overstimulated him even more. He was being so pathetic it was cute. Without wasting a single second, you went as fast as you could, blatantly ignoring his pleads. Based on your own observations, he must have been close, if he was similar to a real person. “Feels good?” You asked, to make sure he was alright. He didn’t reply again and only nodded all weakly, but you’ll let it slide this time.

He felt so hot and strange, it was a nice but unfamiliar feeling. Not only that, he felt something burning building up inside him and it was threatening to spill. That’s why he wanted you to slow down. Poor thing was confused, absolutely baffled what this warm feeling was. Is it love? It must be love. He loved you and you loved him after all. All in all it wasn’t a bad feeling, and since you seemed happy, he is too!

Another sudden wave of pleasure coursed through him, his eyes were clouded with lust and bliss, and the dirty whimpers that slipped past his lips got more erotic by the second. How desperate and lovesick he sounded, begging, pleading, squirming and trashing around on the spot. Thighs pressed together while his toes curled, back arched as a last moan ripped from his throat, “nnNgGHhh ♡♥︎ ♡～” Just as you predicted, that must have been his climax. Now’s the question, did he came in his pants? Did such things still have a reproductive system?

My my, it seems that is the case, whatever it was it seeped through the dark fabric of hi trousers, causing an even darker spot to appear.

You only caught glimpses of it since he was hiding his own body so much, but you were content nevertheless. Since he was so obedient the entire time, you decided to be nice to him with the limited vocabulary you had. “Cute.” His kneeling figure was still shuddering and twitching, ragged gasps and pants were also coming from him. But for him, the only thing he could hear was your voice ringing and echoing in his mind, as well as the awfully loud beats of his own heart.

After all this time, you finally praised him! Well you did before but this time he was sure of it! And you found him cute! He was so happy he couldn’t stop grinning. That’s when you said, “do you want anything?” It was to kind of make up for making a fool out of him, or maybe for breaking his umbrella. He didn’t even think before quickly turning his head up, slurring out, “g-give me you name?” You blinked, that wouldn’t have been what you wished for but oh well. Right before you simply told him the answer you stopped yourself, and responded teasingly, “call me master.”

You weren’t sure if he knew the meaning behind it, but it didn’t matter. He had a blank look for a few seconds, mumbling to himself, most likely repeating that word a thousand times. While he did that, he let his head hang low again, facing the floor. His hair hid his face really well, and you couldn’t read his expression. “You alright?” You asked once the silence started to make you feel uneasy.

He placed both his hand on the floor and leaned down, until his face was hovering centimetres above your shoe, and he whispered eagerly, excessively so, “I’m happy, master. I love you.” Before kissing the tip of your shoe. You stared down in disbelief, a shiver running down your spine. He was more of a freak than you thought.

The moment he was done, you grabbed a fistful of his hair, proceeding to yank on it, making him face you on eye-level while he gasped in surprise. Your other hand clutched the umbrella more tightly, causing him to groan slightly. “Stupid dog.” You chuckled with a sinister smile spread across your face, watching as hearts appeared in the middle of his pupils.

[sweetlyvibe]

✎ . . . their reaction to you DEFENDING THEM .ᐟ.ᐟ

- 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝖪𝖾𝗇𝗆𝖺 𝖪𝗈𝗓𝗎𝗆𝖾 ⋆ 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝖺 ��𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎 ⋆ 𝖪𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗒𝖺𝗆𝖺 𝖳𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗈 ⋆ 𝖠𝗄𝖺𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂 𝖪𝖾𝗂𝗃𝗂 ⋆ 𝖭𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗒𝖺 𝗒𝗎𝗎

Rintarou stood quietly off to the side, his usual unimpressed expression fixed in place as someone started throwing accusations his way—something about being lazy or unmotivated. You, however, weren’t having any of it.

“Excuse me, but do you even know what you’re talking about?” you interrupted, stepping in front of Rintarou. “He works harder than anyone else, and just because he doesn’t broadcast it like some people doesn’t mean you get to judge him.”

Rintarou’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your sudden defense. The tiniest smirk tugged at his lips as he watched you go off on his behalf. When the other person finally backed down and walked away, you turned to him, your face still flushed with indignation.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his voice soft and calm, but his gaze held an uncharacteristic warmth.

“Yes, I did,” you shot back. “They were being unfair.”

his smirk deepened, his hand ruffling your hair. “Thanks, Y/n. You’re kind of scary when you’re mad, but… I like it.”

Keiji was trying to remain polite, as always, but the person arguing with him clearly wasn’t interested in reason. They kept cutting him off, questioning his decisions, and Keiji‘s calm demeanor was starting to falter.

That’s when you stepped in. “Hold on, why don’t you let him finish before jumping to conclusions?” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “Akaashi knows exactly what he’s doing, and if you actually listened to him, you’d realize that.”

The person stammered, clearly taken aback by your sharp tone, before awkwardly excusing themselves. Keiji blinked at you, his mouth slightly open in surprise.

“You didn’t have to do that, Y/n,” he said after a moment, his voice soft.

You shrugged, your cheeks a little pink. “I couldn’t just stand there and let them talk to you like that.”

A small smile appeared on his lips as he adjusted his glasses. “Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes meeting yours with quiet admiration. “You didn’t just defend me—you reminded me why I’m lucky to have you around.”

Kenma hated arguments, especially when he was the target. He’d much rather let the other person talk themselves out than get involved, but this time, they were relentless, criticizing his supposed lack of “effort” on the team.

You, however, weren’t about to let that slide. “Oh, come on,” you said, stepping forward with a sharp glare. “Do you even know Kenma? He works harder than anyone else. Just because he’s not loud about it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

Kenma’s eyes widened slightly as he watched you defend him. The other person stammered before leaving, clearly overwhelmed by your fierce energy.

Kenma tugged lightly at your sleeve, his voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have to do that…”

“Of course I did,” you said, still fuming. “They were being unfair.”

Kenma’s lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. “Thanks,” he said, his cheeks tinged pink. “But… you know, you don’t have to fight my battles for me.”

“I know,” you replied, softening. “I just couldn’t stand there and do nothing.”

Kenma’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before he muttered, “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

Noya was mid-argument, his fiery personality clashing with someone who clearly underestimated him. He was holding his ground, but the other person’s snide remarks were starting to hit a nerve.

That’s when you jumped in. “Hey! Who do you think you are, talking to him like that?” you snapped, stepping between them. “Noya’s one of the best players on the team, and he’s got more heart than you could ever understand.”

Nishinoya blinked, caught off guard as the person muttered an apology and backed off. When they were gone, he broke into a wide grin. “Y/n! That was awesome!”

You crossed your arms, still glaring in the direction the person had gone. “They had no right to talk to you like that.”

Noya laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Man, you’re fiery! I love it! You’re like my personal knight in shining armor.”

His teasing tone made you roll your eyes, but the way he looked at you—like you were the coolest person in the world—made your heart race.

Tobio wasn’t the best at handling confrontations, so when someone started criticizing him for being “too intense” on the court, he didn’t know how to respond. He stood there, frowning deeply, his fists clenched at his sides.

Before he could say anything, you stepped in. “Excuse me, but do you even know what you’re talking about?” you said, your voice firm. “Kageyama is one of the hardest-working players out there, and if you can’t see that, maybe you should just leave.”

The person hesitated before walking away, clearly intimidated by your sharp tone. Kageyama stared at you, his expression a mix of surprise and admiration.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his neck.

You turned to him, still fuming. “Of course I did! They were being ridiculous.”

His ears turned red as he muttered, “Thanks, I guess.” He avoided your gaze for a moment before adding, “It’s… nice to know you have my back.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to nudge his shoulder. “Always.”

For the rest of the day, Tobio couldn’t stop thinking about how fiercely you’d stood up for him, and he swore to himself that he’d work even harder—not for the critics, but for you.

[coryndoll]

plot ── tasked with interviewing actor drew starkey about his latest movie, you unintentionally steal the spotlight, leaving him blushing and lost for words under your mesmerizing gaze.

content ── reader being toooo pretty that drew is just like woah, drew being so observant ugh love him, reader not even trying to get his attention at all but ure just so alluring to him

authors note ── yea FUCK my series even tho i made that poll tbh im just so unmotivated. i saw this pic of drew n had some ideas for this lil oneshot of reader interviewing him post-premiere or something and him literally falling in love n reader noticing the little things n he becomes soheart eyes for u omg

you were a little nervous, to say the least. it was supposed to be a one-on-one interview, which somehow felt more intense than group ones with an entire cast. at least in those, the attention wasn’t entirely on you. but now? now it was just you and drew starkey, a handful of questions, and an awkwardly large camera crew standing just out of frame, watching everything. no pressure, right?

your boss had insisted that this interview focus on drew’s performance in his latest film. fair enough, but it also meant no backup—no costar to bounce off of or share the spotlight. it felt intimate in a way you weren’t entirely comfortable with, no matter how many times you’d done this. at the end of the day, it was just you sitting across from a celebrity while everyone else quietly judged your ability to hold a conversation.

you had almost turned this job down when you first started, not because of the nerves (though there were plenty) but because of the sheer vulnerability of it. still, the exposure wasn’t bad, and the paycheck? even better.

as you stepped into the room, clipboard in hand, the tension in your chest tightened just a bit. drew starkey, an actor you were only somewhat familiar with, sat casually in his chair. outer banks, hellraiser, the other zoey—you’d done your homework, skimming through his projects like your career depended on it. because, well, it kind of did. and he was . . . well, better looking in person, if that was even possible. the kind of face that made you forget you had questions to ask in the first place.

meanwhile, drew had been at this for hours. interviews were basically part of the job, but after a while, they all blended together. same questions, same conversations, just with different faces. he was tired but not miserable, holding onto the thought of dinner plans with some friends later that night.

interviews weren’t bad—he liked the connection when it happened, like the guy he was first interviewed by had laughed when he cracked a joke—but there was only so much charm drew could muster after a full day of talking about himself and the same film.

when you walked into the room, he barely glanced up at first. another assistant, probably, or someone from the crew running around to keep things moving. he didn’t pay much attention until you stopped right in front of him, introducing yourself and the network you worked for, arm extended for a handshake.

his gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, he forgot how to move, but he pulled himself together quickly, or at least he hoped it looked that way. he shook your hand, smiling the kind of easy, practiced smile he’d perfected over the years, but there was something a little shaky in his voice when he said, “nice to meet you.”

he sat back down, reminding himself to focus. you were a professional. he was a professional. this was just another interview. but it was hard to ignore the way his heart picked up every time you looked at him like that—focused, curious, maybe even a little nervous yourself. he wasn’t sure what it was about you, but for the first time that day, he couldn’t wait for the next question.

his hand went to his earlobe almost instinctively, a nervous habit he hadn’t really noticed until now. yeah, you were . . . stunning, in the kind of way that made him feel like he should stand up straighter or check his hair. if someone had told him you were a celebrity, he wouldn’t have questioned it. but the fact that you were here to interview him? that just felt unfair.

but the interview was smooth, the kind he’d done a hundred times before. the questions were predictable again, circling around the same themes: his character, the challenges of filming, the energy on set. drew answered easily, slipping into that familiar rhythm, but every so often, his focus wavered—not on the questions, but on you.

you glanced down at your list, scanning it for the next prompt, and then back up at him with those eyes. god, those eyes. drew swore they could make anyone feel like they were the only person in the room, even though he knew there were at least ten crew members just beyond the cameras.

he noticed it, though—how bored you seemed, even if you were too professional to let it show. your smile was polite, your tone unwavering, but every now and then, you hesitated just slightly before asking him a question, like you were already tired of the script you’d been given.

and then there was him, barely able to hold eye contact. it was almost embarrassing when he caught himself smiling at you, just a small, almost shy curve of his lips, but it was enough for you to pause, tilting your head slightly as if you were studying him.

"are you okay?" you asked softly, your own lips quirking into a smile that practically knocked the wind out of him.

it was such a simple exchange, but drew could feel the heat creeping up his neck. “yeah. yeah, i’m . . . awesome,” he managed, clearing his throat and looking away for half a second before his eyes found their way back to yours. he had to play it off, had to stay professional, but the way you smiled back at him, like his answer had made your day a little brighter? it felt like a win. still, he reminded himself: there was only so much time left. you were on a clock, and he couldn’t afford to waste it, even if you made it almost too easy to get distracted.

you just laughed, accepting his answer, but the moment lingered. your smile lingered. and the questions rolled on, one after another. nothing groundbreaking, but you kept it light, adding just enough to make it feel like a conversation. drew appreciated that. but eventually, after a particularly shared laugh—he couldn’t even remember what the joke had been—he leaned in slightly, his voice carrying a hint of playful curiosity.

“okay, so what did you think about the movie?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. it caught you off guard; he could tell by the way your posture shifted, your pen stilling over your notes.

and then you started talking.

at first, it was simple—a few observations, some praise for the direction, the performances. but the more you went on, the more animated you became, your voice lifting slightly, your words flowing effortlessly. you dove deep, unraveling moments and emotions from the film like you’d been holding them in since the premiere. drew leaned back, one hand resting against his chin as he watched you, utterly mesmerized.

you talked about the subtlety of his character, how his guarded exterior felt like a shield hiding something raw and vulnerable. you mentioned the tension between the characters—the way their connection felt like a push-and-pull dance neither could fully commit to but couldn’t walk away from either. you dissected the music, the cinematography, how it all wove together like a symphony of yearning and restraint.

and the way you talked about his performance . . .

you didn’t gush, which he appreciated, but your words were thoughtful, specific. you spoke about his quiet expressions, the way he held so much in his body language—the hesitation in his glances, the way his character seemed to pull back just when you thought he’d lean in. it was like you’d been watching with a magnifying glass, picking apart moments even he hadn’t considered.

he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. not just because you liked the movie, though that didn’t hurt, but because it was you. you, sitting across from him, completely unaware of how captivating you looked while tearing apart his work in the best possible way. if someone had asked him to focus on anything other than the way you gestured, your fingers brushing lightly against the edge of your clipboard, or the way your lips curved when you spoke, he would’ve failed miserably.

drew just sat there, watching you, and he couldn’t help but smile. you weren’t just pretty—you were sharp, insightful, and clearly so much more than the routine questions your clipboard suggested.

“you’re good at this,” he said when you finally paused for a breath, and he meant it. but he couldn’t help the slight teasing edge in his tone, the way his smile softened just a little as his eyes met yours again.

[flowerandblood]

The Last Drop (2/?)

[ modern • vampire • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: kissing, description of blood drinking and bleeding in general, sexual tension, angst, toxic relationship with Alys ]

[ description: Encouraged by the information that the town he has landed in is not known for having the most vigilant police in the world, he decides to go on a little hunting trip to finally quench his burning thirst. However, not everything goes according to plan. (A lot of sexual tension, grumpy, gloomy Aemond). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He was only supposed to stay in this town for three days, eat to his heart's content and return by train to one of his flats a few hours away.

Or at least that was his plan.

He didn't know why he was standing outside a nerdy club where, from what he understood, game and board enthusiasts ate popcorn and nachos while sipping drinks.

Admittedly, he worked on a laptop and using a computer made his life a lot easier: he didn't have to show up at the company as he did his tasks remotely, but he was still far from a fan of modern technology.

He felt that it was killing something, although he wasn't sure what.

She told him that she worked there and that he should come visit her on her shift. She said something about drinks with an extra element, which surely was blood, that she wanted to prepare especially for him.

He was unable to grasp neither the full absurdity of the situation nor why he was just standing outside the entrance like an idiot, instead of returning to his quiet, well-ordered life.

To Alys.

He sighed, glancing down at his phone, seeing that she had sent him another two new messages, several missed calls showed that she was starting to get impatient.

He swallowed hard reading the last message, recognising that he didn't feel like letting Alys play with her at all.

He wrote back and tucked the phone into his pocket, running down the stairs to the premises which were twinkling with lots of coloured lights and neon.

As he stepped inside, he immediately heard 80s electronic music – the Depeche Mode track I just can't get enough was pounding from the speakers around him. The club's clientele was mostly very young, dancing in front of large monitors following the instructions of some character, singing karaoke, playing at a PlayStation or bent over large boards, planning the entire game.

"Hi!" He heard a cheerful voice from behind the bar – when he looked there, he saw her and her wide smile, her hair pinned up in a ponytail on top of her head.

He didn't understand why her eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of him, and why he felt a pleasant warmth at the thought.

Was he so desperate to be noticed and needed?

He thought he was pathetic, but still his feet carried him further to the counter behind which she stood.

"I'm so glad you're here. Would you like to try the drink I mentioned yesterday?" She asked immediately, while her shift mate started to serve another customer.

He just nodded, for some reason embarrassed and overwhelmed, sitting down on one of the high chairs just off the bar.

He saw that she had gone to the back room and then returned with a bottle in which he was sure there was blood.

He looked around anxiously, but no one took any notice.

"I'm going to make a drink for my friend with rum, ice, cherry and apricot juice." She said aloud, pouring something that was certainly not cherry juice along with the other ingredients into a shaker.

He couldn't hide his surprise at the fact that he didn't see any sign of discomfort or fear on her face that someone would discover what she was doing – on the contrary, she seemed delighted to share her next treat with him again.

Although he didn't admit it out loud, fuck, her blood jellies were so good.

She poured the contents of the container into a nice tall glass and put a cardboard straw in it, placing the whole thing right in front of his face.

"I hope you will like it." She said lightly, immediately moving on to attend to the customer behind him.

He reached for the glass, raised it to his lips and hesitantly took a sip from it. He had to bite his lower lip to hold back a smirk of amusement.

It was delicious.

For some reason, being with her made him feel like a human again and maybe that's why he came back.

Maybe that's why he couldn't leave.

"What do you think?" She asked aloud, preparing an order for a second customer, already with completely normal ingredients.

"Very good." He admitted, throwing her a drawn-out, satisfied look.

For some reason, he was smiling.

Her shift ended an hour later so, as per her request, he waited for her at the exit. As she came out of the back room, one of the guys, similar in age to her at least in appearance, clearly drunk, approached her.

"– hi – shit, I know I'm drunk and – you know – but – fuck, will you give me your number? – sorry if I'm imposing –" He mumbled, clearly stressed and filled with emotion.

He saw that this confession had impressed her and did not make her uncomfortable, however, he knew she would refuse.

She, unlike him, was not playing with her food.

"Forgive me, but I already have someone." She said and looked up at him, surprising him completely.

He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

"– oh – I'm so sorry – I thought –" The boy began to babble, clearly embarrassed, wanting for sure now to erase from her memory what he had said and just disappear.

"– it's okay – you're really sweet –" She assured him warmly and walked past him, throwing him a horrified, apologetic look.

"You already have someone?" He sneered, walking up the stairs at her side, stepping out into the fresh night air at last.

"Sorry, I didn't know what to answer. Don't be mad. Otherwise he'd be getting his hopes up." She said with sincere concern, grabbing his coat sleeve, clearly wanting him to accept her explanation and look at her.

"Nevermind." He said, not knowing what he was doing here.

I should go home, he thought.

"If you want, you can rest in my apartment." He heard her voice and swallowed loudly, thinking that he shouldn't.

He shouldn't, but he ended up lying in her bed anyway, with his fangs sunk into her fragrant neck, snuggled into her soft flesh. Her fluffy pyjamas, consisting of trousers and a shirt buttoned up the front, smelled of some pleasant, delicate washing powder.

He had to undo a few buttons to reach the hollow of her neck, or at least that's how he explained it to himself – his hand, as he drank her blood in slow, lazy sips, brushed her plump breast under the material, founding itself there completely by accident.

Every time his thumb, also by accident of course, rubbed her hard nipple, something on the edge of a sigh and a moan left her lips: her body tensed like a string, vulnerable and responsive to his every move.

It occurred to him that what he was doing, as well as the reactions of her own body, were a surprise to her – she was certainly not as experienced in these matters as he was, if at all.

That thought aroused him even more.

When he finally pulled away from her, he wanted to take his hand from under her shirt, but her fingers stopped him, pressing it back against her skin. He sighed as she turned with him, when, trailing her knuckles along his long jaw, this time it was her moist lips that reached his neck.

He licked his mouth and flinched, feeling the dull pain and sting as her fangs dug slowly into his flesh. He closed his eyes, focusing on the softness of her breast under his hand, kneading it gently in his palm, feeling the wonderful, intimate scent of their blood all around them.

Sip after sip she quenched her thirst, cuddling up to him like a small child – he couldn't help the pleasant shiver that ran through his lungs as she threw her leg over his hip, pressing her body against his.

When she finally pulled away from his neck, she laid her head on the pillow right next to his – their lips, chins and cheeks were all sticky with blood. When she leaned towards him, they simply kissed: he grunted with delight, feeling their mingled taste melt on his tongue, and pressed her tighter to himself, clasping his free hand in her hair.

It doesn't mean anything, he repeated to himself, forcing his tongue deep into her throat, rolling with his hips back and forth, rubbing his swollen erection against her lower abdomen.

He was simply tired and she was a break from the monotony of his life.

He would get bored with her quickly, as he did with all the women before her.

He opened his eyes as she pressed her forehead against his, listening to their loud, raspy breaths. He gasped as her fingers ran down his cheek, as the tips of their tongues brushed invitingly, clicking with each lazy lick, sending a delicious, hot shiver down his spine.

It was one of the most perverse sensations he had ever experienced in his life.

He was unable to contain the pleasant, warm feeling that spread through his heart as she combed her fingers through his short hair – to his displeasure, she broke the caress and kissed the tip of his nose.

He was fully hard, but he had no intention of taking more from her than she was willing to give him.

"Why did you come?" She asked in a whisper, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

He simply looked at her for a moment, wondering what he should answer.

Why he had actually done it again.

"I don't know." He replied finally. "I don't know the answer to that question."

His words did not discourage or sadden her, as she smiled with understanding.

"I see. Rest now. I will too." She said softly.

They both lay on their stomachs, embracing each other with their arms around each other's waists – their foreheads still touched as they both closed their eyes.

For some reason, he wanted to feel her close.

They weren't friends, just some strange kind of lovers, he realized with pain, but he felt a strange discomfort at the thought, indicating that he himself wasn't sure he believed what he was trying to tell himself.

What had he really come for?

What was he expecting?

Was he simply curious about how her drink tasted?

How their night would turn out?

Would he drink her blood again?

Will they have sex?

Will they fall asleep next to each other?

He closed his eyes, recognising that it didn't matter.

For the first time in many years he had fully quenched his hunger.

The thought that this was surely the last night he would spend with her filled him with a strange kind of sadness and regret – he held her close in his embrace, knowing that he would eventually have to tell her that he didn't live here at all.

That he had lied to her.

When she woke up and lifted her head, she saw his face – she smiled sweetly in a way from which he felt a sting in his heart.

Although all sticky with blood, she looked so innocent.

"I lied to you." He said.

She blinked and shook her head, surprised and horrified, her expression one of complete consternation.

"What do you mean?" She muttered.

"I didn't move here. I just came for a while. You know. To eat." He explained, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding in his chest like crazy.

Why was he scared?

"Oh. I understand. We don't know each other well yet, you had every right to act like that. Don't worry." She said reassuringly, making him feel an uncomfortable tightness in his throat, a wetness under his eyelids that he hadn't felt in years.

What was happening to him?

"There's someone out there waiting for me. And I don't want her to find out about you. It would be dangerous for you. I'm leaving today." He whispered with surprising difficulty, hearing, shocked, that his voice broke at the last sentence.

He saw her eyebrows arch in pain, her nose twitched as her eyes turned red with tears, the request and plea for him to stay written on her face so clearly that she didn't need to say anything.

Instead of stopping him, however, she let him go and pulled away slightly.

"Your friend?" She asked, not looking him in the eye, but at his chest.

He had a feeling that if he opened his mouth, he would cry.

He let his broad, pale hand raise – his fingers ran gently across her cheek in some hopeless attempt to comfort her.

"If I could, I would take you with me." He said with difficulty, hearing, embarrassed, how pathetic it sounded.

She laughed, but it was a chuckle full of sadness and disappointment, from which he felt a cold, unpleasant shiver.

"Is that how it is with you? Do you play separately and then come back together?" She asked.

He swallowed hard, feeling as if a stone had fallen to the bottom of his stomach, dragging him down.

He felt ashamed at the thought of how accurately she had judged him.

"Go back to her, but don't mention me. I don't need any more problems, much less a jealous woman on my mind." She said, rising from the bed at last, leaving him with emptiness and coldness all around.

"Of course. I'm not going to expose you." He muttered, raising himself up on his elbow, stupefied, feeling like he'd woken up from some deep sleep.

It wasn't real.

"Do you need blood? I can give you a few bags." She said calmly, standing with her back to him, pacing the kitchen as if she were preparing to make herself breakfast.

"No. No need."

The sky outside the window was cloudy, exactly as his thoughts – he was sitting in a train car filled with people, and although he usually struggled to control himself, he felt no hunger.

Her blood satisfied him.

He lowered his gaze, wondering why he didn't feel like he was coming home at all. Usually after such a journey he was tired and discouraged, relieved to return to what was familiar to him. Now, however, he felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, damp underworld of his heart.

What was really waiting for him there?

He got the answer as soon as he crossed the threshold of his flat.

Alys was waiting for him with candles all around her, which she must have lit beforehand. She looked very good: an elegant knee-length black dress perfectly accentuated her physical assets, her long hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

He didn't know why, but the sight of her made him feel uncomfortable.

Is this how it is with you?

Do you play separately and then come back to each other?

It's not like that, he thought.

It's just that when I go home, she's already waiting for me there.

Always.

"What's that face? Did you kill someone?" She asked with a hint of amusement, rising from the couch, a pretty, ornate goblet filled with blood in her hand.

Fresh blood.

He didn't want to know where she'd gotten it or who'd paid for it.

"No." He replied wearily, putting the keys down on one of the shelves in the corridor.

I don't have the strength for this, he thought.

"I've missed you. This city is so boring when you're not around." She said softly, combing her long nails through his short hair.

He felt an unsettling shudder when she did this: unlike her touch, in which there was first and foremost a desire for comfort, there was pure sexual intent in Alys's.

She wanted to get straight to the point.

He closed his eyes as she embraced him from behind, as her lips placed a kiss on his neck, as her free hand slowly slid down his torso between his thighs. She froze, not finding there what she had clearly expected.

He wasn't hard.

"What's the matter? Aren't you in the mood? Didn't you miss me?" She asked, and he sighed, taking her hand from his crotch.

"No." He replied again, pulling his coat off his shoulders.

He felt the atmosphere around them grow thicker, knowing that her momentary silence was not a good sign.

She was preparing to attack.

"Are you in love with some poor human girl again? You'll get over it, as you always do. She'll eventually grow old and die, and you'll come back, seeking comfort from me." She muttered with a kind of certainty in her voice that annoyed him.

"What are you doing in my flat?" He asked dryly, knocking her off guard.

She looked at him, wrinkling her eyebrows, increasingly frustrated.

"I came to say hello to you. I was hoping for a warmer welcome." She replied coldly.

Welcome, meaning wild sex full of blood?

"I don't recall inviting you. I want to rest." He said dryly, sidestepping her, feeling some kind of frustration and regret.

Because of you, I had to leave her behind.

She needed me.

But if I had stayed with her, she would have found out what a jealous monster you are.

Alys was able to reconcile with his female human lovers because she knew they would eventually disappear – she herself did not shy away from such excesses, fucking young, handsome boys whenever the opportunity arose.

A female vampire, however, would be a threat to her.

"Ah, yes. You only need me when you cry and miss your mummy. When the remorse and memories of how you killed your father come back. But don't worry. I know you better than you know yourself. Have fun, and when you're done, come and we'll forget this conversation." She said dispassionately and grabbed her coat, putting on her high-heels on the way, leaving his flat with a loud slam of the door.

He rested his hands on the countertop and leaned forward, for some strange reason feeling relieved.

He was alone.

He sat down at his old oak desk and opened his laptop – he sighed heavily as he saw 46 new emails from work, knowing he would have to wade through them all one by one.

He had always loved reading, and over his far too long life he had read so many books that he thought he might be able to make some money from it. He therefore became an editor and translator for a publishing house that released volumes of poetry, but also books on history and philosophy.

He liked this job: he received assignments by email, and could discuss them over the phone. His employers were happy with his work, and his readers praised the fidelity of his translations and revisions, so in the end he managed to live on that alone.

He used an alias and false documents so no one has yet realised that he has been several other people in different countries over the past decade.

He could, of course, like other vampires, simply kill rich people and steal their life savings, however, he knew that in the long run such a life was very miserable: for obvious reasons it is then easier to draw attention to yourself and you still have to hide.

He had enough of that.

Maybe that's why she made such an impression on me, he thought.

She lived as if nothing had happened.

He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling nothing but remorse at the memory of the expression on her face when he told her he was leaving. He didn't understand why those three days had affected him so much, why she, a stranger, had made him doubt himself completely as a person.

Maybe it was because he had touched her even though he shouldn't have: she had no obligations to anyone, he knew, however, that by entering into any kind of intimate relationship with her, he might be exposing her to Alys' wrath – and even though nothing but a kiss had actually happened between them, he had the feeling that they had had sex at least a few times.

This kind of unforced, intense intimacy, this touch full of desire and need for closeness, was so painfully sincere that it went beyond what he was usually familiar with: what he had done was not only out of his physiological needs, but out of something much deeper.

Something more sad, more pathetic, more real.

Some part of him wanted to be human again.

[just-sg]

"You're kidding. That's what you're upset about?"

"Wha'd'you mean, of course it is??? How am I not supposed to freak out when I can't even remember who I am!"

"Dude... You seriously think that face is 'you'?"

"What?"

"No, hey. I'm not saying it wasn't the OG, I'm not trying to spring any secret backstory on you or anything. Just... You're you, man, as much as I'm me."

"What are you talking about??"

"This is you. And the dog that stole my lunch yesterday was you. And the crow in these photos, and the harpy form you made for Halloween, and the mice you hide as every time your mom wants to drag you to a boring function. Yes I know about that, not the point right now. Like... It's always you, man. You're not the same as you were yesterday, or last year, or when we were 5, and neither am I. My body changes less than yours, but to be alive at all is to endlessly change."

"I... But..."

"I get it. I swear, even if it's not quite the same, I do. It's scary when you can't go back. When you'll never see that house again, never talk to those friends again, when you can't go back to before you got that injury or before you learned things you never wanted to know. You have to worry about what shape your bones are and whether or not you have scales today, and I've never had to think about that. I have to worry about my body scarring and breaking down, and you can always discard anything that doesn't suit you. It's different, but it comes from the same place. Everything changes, even us, and we have so little control, and that's scary."

"Huh... I guess so. But there's still... Everyone expects your changes, you know...?"

"Right... Yeah, that's fair... You've got me and your mom and a few people who know, but it's probably not safe to tell just everyone. Still... You don't have to become exactly what you were before. Let's take it slow, okay? I'll sit with you. Maybe you'll remember once you calm down and get some momentum, but if you don't, we'll take it one step at a time. We'll work out something close enough. Push comes to shove, we'll tell everyone you got plastic surgery or something."

"Not funny-"

"Sorry, sorry. But really. We'll figure something out. It might not be easy. Change rarely is, and sometimes it uproots our whole lives, and there's nothing we can really do but figure out how to live with it. But no matter how this plays out, I don't want to hear any worries about 'who you are'. I understand if you look 'too' different, it can have consequences, and those do matter. But despite that, no matter what you look like, you're still my best friend. Got it? You'll always still be you."

Your friend, a shapeshifter (a secret you've kept since childhood) hasn't answered your texts in days, so you head to their home. Upon arriving, you find that they're in the middle of an existential crisis; they can't remember how to turn back into their original, human form.

[poguehearted77]

Hi!! I saw that your requests were open and I'm a big fan of your work and I was wondering if you could write something for rafe where reader is a pogue and they need to steal something from tanney hill but Rafe comes home unexpectedly and reader is supposed to distract him but they end up fucking >.< tyyy!!!

Oooh this is freaky. I love it.

My requests are still open.

smut!! -> >.<, penetrative sex, rafe gets flashed, dom! rafe, missionary, size kink, tummy bulge, rafe doesn't pull out..

In and out. That was the plan you and Sarah had agreed on. She would search through the office while you guarded the halls to make sure the coast remained clear.

Things got complicated. Plans changed when Sarah realized that Rafe had taken the liberty to add locks onto the cabinets where the files are kept. Your heartbeat drummed through your ears as you noticed the flash of headlights from Rafe's truck shine through the glass windows.

"Shit. Sarah, Rafe's back early. ETA on the files?" you panic, scurrying through the tiles halls until your feet take you into the office where the blonde crouched, picking the lock with a bobby pin. "I've almost got it. Distract Rafe, keep him as far from here as possible."

Your legs carried you as fast as they could, hoping to meet him outside the front door but he was already inside, your head bumping into his firm chest at full force, sending you tumbling to the ground. "Holy shit. What the-" He's mid-curse when he notices the face of the intruder. Your face.

"Y/n? What the hell are you doing in here?" His thoughts beat your lips to the answer as they geared the possibilities. His jaw locks as it dawns on him, "Where's Sarah, huh? Is she in here? You helping her steal from me now too?"

His steps are powerful as they begin to clear the premises but you desperately grab onto his bulging biceps. "No, Rafe! Stop." Not expecting him to obey so easily, he whips around, startling you.

Just over his shoulder, you see Sarah's head peek out of the office. She gives a wave with the needed files in hand. You had to make sure Rafe didn't turn around, at all costs.

"I thought you were different, y'know? I always thought you were too good to be hangin' with those pogues-" He's about to turn around while Sarah sneaks out the back. You do the first idiotic thing that comes to mind. Your fingers are hooking under the fabric of your top and heaving upwards to flash him your tits.

His sentences break off into chopped, undecided stutters and his hands slowly reach for your round mounds. His hands were hesitating until you gave him a slight nod. "H-holy shit. Most fuckin' perfect pair of tits I've ever seen." His mind is racing to catch up with his hands that gently massage your breasts and you let out a soft moan.

That's the last time either of your clothes were still draped across your bodies. The interaction was quickly followed by uncalculated steps and heated kisses toward the couch where he'd laid you down and fucked you dumb.

"You feel that?" Rafe relishes in the depths of your soaked cunt that sucked in his generous length. Summoning him to a state of bliss, serving a sentence he wished would last the rest of his lifetime.

His hand is placed arrogantly on your lower abdomen where the outline of his girth could be seen pushing up against your insides. Surely, the question is rhetorical as you'd been reduced to a whimpering mess under his touch.

"My dick's splittin' you open. You fuckin' like that shit?" His hips snap, and you squeal, your whole body jolting with every moment of his much bigger one. The sight of you beneath him was more than enough to get him riding along the edge of ecstasy.

"You got the best fuckin' pussy on the island, goddamnit." His lower lip is tucked between hiss teeth, doing his best to hold himself back.

Rafe wouldn't deny any allegations of previously imagining having you in this very position, but the reality puts the products of his imagination to great shame. "R-rafe!" You moan, unbelievably turned on by your 'sworn enemy'.

"Yeah-- shit. Me too." It's not long before his thrusts begin to falter with strained grunts but added force, and he cums not long after you do. He slowly pulls out, admiring the stringy white cum that kept you connected before he realizes what he's done.

"Rafe..." You slowly sit up, dreading the consequences of his actions. "Fuck--I know, shit. I jus' got so caught up- and your pussy jus' felt so good. I wasn't thinking straight." You're both scavenging to get your clothes on as he rambles on.

He reaches into his back pocket and grabs a wad of cash, "Go get a plan B, and we can both act like this never happened, okay?" With a cold gaze, you pocket the money before rushing outside where the Twinkie is waiting for you around the corner out of sight.

"Y/n! Oh my god what took you so long? We thought Rafe had done something to you." Sarah gasps once you finally pull open the doors of the van. Your head shakes, "Nothing. Just Rafe being Rafe, let's go."

[kinzhae]

Just Want To Talk PT. 2

Part 2 of this story: Part 1

Gojo Satoru

Gojo stood frozen in the middle of the room, his words echoing in his mind. The second the door slammed shut, regret hit him like a tidal wave. He sank onto the couch, running a trembling hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant any of it—not a single word.

He waited an hour. Then two. But you didn’t come back.

Panic set in as he grabbed his phone and dialed your number. It rang and rang, but you didn’t pick up. He called again, and again, his desperation growing with each unanswered call.

Finally, he grabbed his coat and headed out, searching the city for you. When he found you sitting on a park bench, your face buried in your hands, relief washed over him. But when you looked up at him, your tear-streaked face broke his heart all over again.

“Go away, Satoru,” you said, your voice hoarse. “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, his usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. “I messed up,” he said, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean it, Y/N. Any of it. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you, and it was wrong. You’re not a burden. You’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

You stared at him, the pain in your chest battling with the sincerity in his voice. “You made me feel worthless, Satoru. Like I didn’t matter to you at all.”

His hands reached for yours, shaking as he held them. “You matter more to me than anything. I just… I don’t know how to do this. To let someone in like this. I’m scared of losing you, and I messed up trying to protect myself.”

Your heart softened slightly at his words, but the pain was still there. “You can’t just push me away every time you’re scared.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I’ll spend every day proving to you that you matter to me. Please, Y/N, give me one more chance.”

You hesitated, but when he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, you let yourself lean into him, the warmth of his embrace finally melting the wall around your heart.

Geto Suguru

Hours passed before Suguru found you, sitting alone on the steps of the temple where you’d spent so many happy moments together. When he approached, you didn’t look up.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you said softly.

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted, sitting beside you. “But then I realized how much of an idiot I’ve been.”

You turned to him, your tear-streaked face filled with pain. “You called me weak, Suguru. How am I supposed to forgive that?”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, his voice trembling. “But I need you to know that I didn’t mean it. I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared of what I’ve become, and I pushed you away because I thought it’d be easier than letting you see me like this.”

“You hurt me,” you said, your voice breaking.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’re the only light I have left, Y/N. Please don’t let me lose you.”

You hesitated, but as he reached for your hand, his grip gentle and desperate, you allowed yourself to believe him, leaning into his embrace as he held you tightly.

Nanami Kento

Nanami worked late into the night, the weight of his words gnawing at the back of his mind. He told himself he’d said what needed to be said, but as the hours passed, guilt began to creep in. When he finally went to bed, he found your side of the bed empty.

Panic set in as he searched the apartment, only to find you curled up on the couch, your face streaked with dried tears.

He crouched beside you, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with regret.

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice still hoarse from crying. The exhaustion in your tone cut through him like a knife.

“I should be asking you that,” Nanami replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He sat beside you on the couch, looking at you with a mixture of guilt and sorrow. “I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I didn’t even stop to think about how you were feeling.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his words lingering in the air between you. “You told me I was overthinking, that I was being insecure. But Kento… it’s not insecurity. I just want to feel like I matter to you. I’m not asking for you to drop everything for me, but… I need to know I’m important too.”

Nanami let out a shaky breath, his fingers gently brushing your arm. “You are important to me. I’m just… bad at expressing it. I’ve always been this way, focused on work, trying to make sure everything is in order. But I realize now that I’ve been neglecting the one thing that matters most.”

You shifted slightly, meeting his gaze. “What’s that?”

“You,” he whispered. “I’ve been so focused on my responsibilities that I’ve been blind to what you need from me. I’m sorry, Y/N. I was wrong, and I want to make it right. I don’t want to lose you over my own shortcomings.”

Your heart softened at his admission, but the hurt was still there, lingering. “I need time, Kento. You can’t just brush this off. You need to show me, not just tell me.”

He nodded, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I don’t take you for granted.”

He pulled you into his arms, gently resting his chin on top of your head. “I know I’ve been distant. But I promise, I’ll try harder. I won’t let you feel this way again.”

The warmth of his embrace was comforting, but the scar from his words still burned deep inside you. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust that things could change.

For now, you let yourself rest in his arms, knowing that he was willing to try. But in the back of your mind, you knew that actions spoke louder than words.

Choso

Choso stood there, his eyes filled with an emotional turmoil that he struggled to control. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’ve become.”

“Then tell me,” you said gently, taking a step toward him. “Don’t shut me out. Let me in, Choso. I’m not going anywhere.”

The raw vulnerability in your voice cracked the wall he had so carefully built around himself. His breath hitched as he looked at you, the weight of his inner battle tearing him apart.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve anyone. Not after everything I’ve done.”

You shook your head, reaching for his hand. “Choso, I don’t care about what you think you deserve. I care about you. I love you, and I’m not going to walk away because you think you’re too broken.”

He looked down at your hand in his, his throat tight with emotion. Slowly, he pulled you into an embrace, burying his face in your shoulder as he finally let his tears fall.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m just so scared of dragging you down with me.”

You held him tightly, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m here, Choso. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, as he clung to you, you knew that while the pain wasn’t gone, there was hope for healing. You would both find your way back to each other. Slowly, but surely.

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna didn’t follow you immediately. He stayed on his throne, his expression unchanging, but the empty room suddenly felt heavier than usual. He told himself it didn’t matter, that you’d come back like you always did. But as the hours dragged on and the sound of your footsteps never returned, something began to stir inside him—a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to name.

By the time he went looking for you, the sun had long since set. He found you in the palace garden, sitting on a cold stone bench with your knees pulled to your chest. Your cloak was wrapped tightly around you, but it wasn’t enough to hide the way your body trembled, either from the cold or from the weight of your grief.

For a long moment, he just stood there, watching you. You didn’t look up. Maybe you knew he was there, or maybe you were too lost in your thoughts to notice.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Still sulking, I see.”

Your head shot up, your tear-streaked face glaring at him with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “Go away, Sukuna.”

He ignored your words, stepping closer until he was standing directly in front of you. “You’ve been out here for hours. Are you trying to freeze to death?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Why do you care? I’m just a ‘distraction,’ remember?”

His jaw clenched, the faintest flicker of regret crossing his face. “I… misspoke.”

“Misspoke?” you repeated, standing up abruptly. Your voice cracked as the tears came rushing back. “You told me I was nothing, Sukuna! That I was weak and pathetic! How do you misspeak that?”

He flinched at the raw pain in your voice, his usual arrogance faltering. “I said those things because I’m a fool,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you had ever heard it. “Because I don’t know how to handle this—how to handle you. You make me feel things I don’t understand, and it terrifies me.”

You stared at him, your anger mingling with confusion. “And you thought hurting me was the answer?”

“I thought it would push you away,” he admitted, his voice filled with rare vulnerability. “That it would be easier if you hated me. But instead, all I’ve done is hurt the one person who matters most to me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw sincerity in his tone breaking through the walls you had built around your heart. “You broke me, Sukuna,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

He stepped closer, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn it. I can’t lose you, Y/N. You’re the only thing keeping me from becoming the monster everyone says I am.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Slowly, hesitantly, you let him pull you into his arms, his hold tight and protective. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you weren’t alone.

[daisymbin]

Hi, belle! I love your writing 🤍

Can I ask for suggestive prompt 15? w/ jeonghan + fem reader

him being the person to say this in the middle of a fight while the reader wants to fight and he's clearly thinking about something more interesting

hi anon!! such an interesting take omg yes!! thank you for requesting 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hannie's m.list

suggestive prompt #15: "if you keep talking like that, I won't be able to hold back."

“you’re so stubborn, jeonghan,” you snap, pacing back and forth across the living room. your voice is sharp, cutting through the otherwise quiet apartment. “do you even realize how frustrating you are?”

jeonghan watches you from where he’s sprawled on the couch, his head tilted lazily against the cushion. his dark eyes follow your every movement, a faint smirk playing on his lips despite the irritation etched into your face.

“i think you’ve mentioned it once or twice,” he says, his tone light and teasing, as though your anger is nothing more than a passing breeze.

you stop pacing and whirl to face him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “this isn’t a joke, jeonghan. i’m being serious.”

he sits up slightly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “oh, i know you’re serious,” he murmurs, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “you always get this cute little crease between your brows when you’re mad.”

you glare at him, heat rising to your cheeks at his words. “stop trying to distract me. you can’t just—”

“can’t just what?” he interrupts smoothly, standing up in one fluid motion. he’s in front of you in an instant, his gaze piercing as he looks down at you. “can’t just call out the fact that you’re practically glowing right now? that you’re so worked up it’s actually kind of... hot?”

your breath catches, your resolve faltering as his words sink in. but you shake your head, trying to regain your footing. “you think you can just... sweet-talk your way out of everything, don’t you?” frustration still bubbling within you.

his smirk widens, and he steps closer, the heat of his presence overwhelming. “and what if i do? is it working?”

“no,” you snap, though the slight waver in your voice betrays you. “we’re supposed to be having a serious conversation right now, jeonghan. you can’t just... just flirt your way through it!”

he hums thoughtfully, tilting his head as if considering your words. “maybe i’m not flirting,” he says softly, his voice low and velvety. “maybe i’m just trying to remind you of something more important.”

“and what’s that?” you ask, your frustration boiling over.

his lips ghost over yours, the slightest hint of contact that makes your knees weak. “i think we both know who’s really in control here.”

his gaze darkens, his smirk fading into something more intense. he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long.

“if you keep talking like that,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “i won’t be able to hold back.”

your heart stops, your breath hitching as his words hang in the air. his fingers trail down to your jaw, tilting your face up so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“jeonghan,” you say, your voice trembling. “don’t change the subject. we were—”

“were we?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “because all i can think about right now is how hot you look when you’re this fired up.”

your mouth opens to respond, but his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “you don’t even realize what you do to me, do you?” he whispers, his lips so close you can feel the warmth of his breath.

your hands rise instinctively to press against his chest, but instead of pushing him away, your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “hannie,” you whisper, though it sounds more like a plea than a protest.

“tell me to stop,” he says, his voice rough, his forehead resting against yours. “if you don’t want it, tell me to stop right now.”

but you don’t.

instead, you tilt your head up, closing the small distance between you as your lips meet his.

the kiss is electric, sending a jolt down your spine as his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him. his lips are soft yet insistent, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, grounding you even as your knees threaten to buckle.

“you drive me crazy,” he mutters against your lips, his voice low and full of heat.

“good,” you manage to breathe, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

he chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he trails kisses down your jaw and to the sensitive spot just below your ear. “you’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving you gasping.

“maybe i like the risk,” you whisper, emboldened by the way his hands grip you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“careful,” he warns, his voice dripping with both amusement and desire. “if you keep talking like that, i’ll show you exactly what you’ve started.”

so you try again, because if anything, jeonghan looks a thousand times just as hot when he's all worked up, "hannie,"

"yes, love?"

"you're so stubborn and it's annoying," your voice dips, and jeonghan knows you half mean it, & somehow, it turns him on even more.

the look in his eyes is all the warning you need—and yet, you find yourself leaning into him, daring him to follow through.

[magical-reid]

The Spell Gone Awry

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Word Count: 1.9 K

It was a quiet afternoon at Hogwarts, or at least it was supposed to be. The Great Lake glimmered in the autumn sun, and the grounds were bustling with students making the most of their weekend. You had intended to spend the afternoon exploring the castle’s nooks and crannies, but fate had other plans.

The courtyard near the Clock Tower was unusually noisy. As you walked through the archway, you realized why—two Slytherins were dueling.

“Expelliarmus!” one voice shouted, and a wand went flying.

You paused, recognizing the unmistakable drawl of Draco Malfoy. He stood with his wand raised, his silver-blond hair gleaming in the sunlight, and his trademark smirk firmly in place. Opposite him was Theodore Nott, his face set in determination.

Normally, you’d avoid scenes like this—public displays of superiority were practically a pastime for Draco—but today, curiosity got the better of you.

You were mid-step, walking through the duel’s perimeter, when Theodore shouted, “Stupefy!”

Before you could process what was happening, a jet of red light hit you square in the chest. Your body flew back, the world spinning as you crashed into the stone pavement with a sickening thud.

“Y/N!”

Draco’s voice cut through the fog in your mind, sharper than the pain that spread across your body. You tried to sit up, but your limbs wouldn’t cooperate.

“Move, Nott!” Draco snapped, shoving Theodore aside as he knelt at your side. His hands hovered over you, unsure where to touch. “Someone get Madam Pomfrey!”

Through your hazy vision, you saw the concern etched into his face. It was an expression you’d never seen from him before.

“Draco…” you murmured weakly, but the darkness claimed you before you could say more.

The Hospital Wing

You woke to the sound of murmured voices. The faint scent of medicinal potions hung in the air, and the soft rustling of curtains told you where you were—the hospital wing.

“Finally,” came a familiar voice, tinged with relief.

Turning your head, you saw Draco sitting in a chair beside your bed. His tie was loosened, his robes slightly rumpled as though he’d been there for hours.

“How long have I been here?” you croaked, your throat dry.

“Since this afternoon,” Draco said, leaning forward. “You’ve been out cold for hours. I thought…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “You shouldn’t have been walking through the middle of a duel.”

His tone was accusatory, but his eyes betrayed his guilt.

“I didn’t know there was a duel,” you said softly.

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You could’ve been seriously hurt, Y/N.”

You tried to sit up, wincing as pain shot through your back. Draco was immediately at your side, adjusting your pillows and muttering about how careless Nott had been.

“Draco,” you interrupted, “it wasn’t your fault.”

His hands stilled, and he looked at you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “It doesn’t matter. You got hurt because I was being…well, me.”

You managed a weak smile. “You mean a show-off?”

His lips twitched, but the smirk you expected didn’t come. Instead, he sat back down, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Why did you stay?” you asked after a moment.

Draco scoffed, though his ears turned pink. “You’re in my House. It would’ve been…unbecoming to leave you here alone.”

His words didn’t quite match the look in his eyes—soft, vulnerable.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.

Whispers in the Shadows

The following week was strange. News of the accident spread quickly, and students whispered about how Draco Malfoy had stayed by your side until you woke. Some called it an act of guilt, others a show of loyalty to a fellow Slytherin.

Draco, however, seemed to avoid you. In the Great Hall, he sat at the far end of the table, his gaze fixed on his plate. In Potions, he worked silently, not once glancing in your direction.

It hurt more than you wanted to admit.

One evening, as you wandered the castle in search of solitude, you found yourself in the library. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across the shelves, and the room was mostly empty.

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name made you turn. Draco stood at the end of the aisle, his hands buried in his pockets.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, surprised.

He hesitated before stepping closer. “I wanted to check on you.”

“You could’ve done that anytime,” you said, unable to hide the hurt in your voice. “But you’ve been avoiding me.”

Draco stopped mid-step, his pale complexion flushing slightly. His hands fidgeted in his pockets, a rare sign of discomfort. For once, he didn’t have a witty retort or his usual confidence.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” he said quietly, though his tone lacked conviction.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Really? Because that’s what it felt like.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his platinum hair. “Fine. Maybe I was. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want to see you.”

You frowned, confused. “Then why?”

Draco hesitated again, glancing around to ensure no one was within earshot. When he finally met your gaze, his gray eyes were unusually vulnerable, stripped of their usual smugness.

“Because you make me feel…unlike myself,” he admitted.

You blinked. “Unlike yourself?”

“Yes. And I’m not sure I like it.” He let out a frustrated huff and leaned against the bookshelf, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Ever since that day in the courtyard, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. About what could’ve happened if that spell had been stronger, if I hadn’t stopped Theodore fast enough.”

You softened at his words, the anger draining from your posture. “Draco, it wasn’t your fault. Accidents happen.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “You don’t get it. I’m not used to…caring about what happens to anyone else.”

You couldn’t help the small, surprised laugh that escaped your lips. “That’s not true. You care about your family. Your friends.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But this is different.”

The vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm. “Draco, I don’t know what you’re so afraid of. But I don’t need you to be anyone other than yourself.”

He looked at your hand on his arm, then back at you, his eyes softening. “That’s what’s terrifying,” he murmured. “You see me—the real me. And I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

You smiled gently. “Maybe you don’t have to be ready. Maybe it’s enough to just feel it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The library seemed impossibly still, as though the castle itself was holding its breath. Then, slowly, Draco reached up and covered your hand with his own.

“Why are you so…kind to me?” he asked, his voice almost breaking.

You squeezed his arm lightly. “Because I see the real you, Draco. And I like him.”

The Dance of Distance

In the days that followed, Draco became a near-constant presence in your life. He walked with you to classes, found excuses to sit beside you in the Great Hall, and even waited for you after Potions.

But the closer he grew, the more complicated things became. The whispers among the Slytherins grew louder, their sharp comments cutting deeper. Some accused you of using Draco to climb the social ladder. Others claimed you’d bewitched him, that no one like you could possibly hold the attention of someone like him.

And yet, through it all, Draco stayed at your side.

One evening, as you sat by the Black Lake, he found you staring into the water, lost in thought.

“You’re quiet today,” he said, sitting beside you.

“Just thinking,” you replied, your tone subdued.

He frowned, leaning closer. “About what?”

You hesitated before meeting his gaze. “About us. About how everyone seems to think we shouldn’t…be together.”

His expression darkened. “Let them think what they want. Since when do their opinions matter to you?”

“They don’t,” you admitted, though your voice wavered. “But I don’t want them to hurt you, Draco. And I feel like being with me is only making things harder for you.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his gray eyes searching yours. Then, without a word, he reached out and cupped your face in his hands.

“Listen to me,” he said firmly, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “You’re the only person who’s ever looked at me and seen something more than a Malfoy. You’re the only one who makes me feel like I’m worth something beyond my name. Don’t take that away from me because of a few gossipy idiots.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you managed a small smile. “You really mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” he said, his voice softening. “Besides, you’re stuck with me now.”

An Unspoken Confession

The Yule Ball arrived faster than you expected, and with it came the usual flurry of excitement. Dresses were chosen, hair was styled, and students buzzed with anticipation. You hadn’t planned on going—until Draco appeared outside the Slytherin common room, dressed impeccably in black and silver, his hand outstretched.

“Come with me,” he said simply.

You hesitated, your heart pounding. “Draco, I don’t even have—”

“Don’t worry about that,” he interrupted, smirking slightly. With a flick of his wand, a set of elegant green robes appeared in his arms.

You stared at him, speechless.

“I took the liberty of having these made,” he said, his smirk softening into a small, hopeful smile. “For you.”

The warmth in his gaze made your chest tighten. Wordlessly, you took the robes and stepped back into the common room to change.

The Dance

The Great Hall was transformed into a winter wonderland, with snowflakes falling from the enchanted ceiling and twinkling lights illuminating the room. Students swirled across the dance floor, laughter and music filling the air.

Draco guided you to the center of the room, his hand resting lightly on your waist.

“People are staring,” you murmured nervously.

“Let them,” he said, his smirk returning. “They’re probably jealous.”

You laughed despite yourself, relaxing as he led you through the waltz. For the first time in weeks, the whispers and the stares didn’t matter.

As the music slowed, Draco leaned closer, his voice low in your ear. “You know, I’ve been trying to tell you something.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “What is it?”

He hesitated for the briefest moment before saying, “I’m falling for you.”

Your breath caught, and your heart seemed to skip a beat. “Draco…”

He smiled faintly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know.”

But you did say something. Leaning up on your toes, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, his expression was equal parts shock and joy.

“I think I’m falling for you too,” you whispered.

His grin was brighter than any spell he’d ever cast.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

[ickaimp]

[Magic Kaito] Scheduling

It's my birthday, so obviously, there should be fic. 700 words, silliness. +++

Saguru wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing here, other than the fact that it wasn’t a school night. And, well, Kid. Specifically a Kid Heist Notice. Which wasn’t for another three days. A bit larger of a lead time than normal, but Kid hadn’t made an appearance in several weeks, most likely due to it being the end of the school season and this being the first time Kid had a break to do so. But still, Saguru usually arrived later in the process, not for the initial heist note meeting. His presence  was mostly superfluous at them, especially given the straight forward nature of the current note and that Kid wouldn’t be there. “Alright, men!” Nakamori-keibu bellowed and Saguru tried to flinch at the volume. Truely, did everything have time be at high decibel? “Kid has sent us a notice for three days from now at 1800-“

“I really wish he didn’t.” The owner of the large inherited topaz flinched.

Normally gem owners tended to fall into two categories, either having something to hide --usually a fake heist notice-- or attempting to challenge the Kid’s skills. The current target went in a different direction… nervous fussing.  “It’s my daughter’s graduation and I wanted to be there.”

“Oh snap.” A familiar voice said from Saguru’s left and he jumped slightly. “Forgot about graduation. Would you like to reschedule?”

The Kid’s voice came from the officer standing next to Saguru. One who was twice Saguru’s age and whom he’d sworn had gotten checked for being the Kid.

“Oh would you?” The mousy gem owner looked relieved.

Kid stepped forward, the Task Force uniform vanishing with a small poof of smoke, to be replaced by the Kaitou Kid’s familiar white suit, top hat, and cape. “Certainly. When would be a good date for you?”

Kid hopped up on the desk, lightly crouching on it as the gem owner pulled out a paper planner, running his fingers across the pages. “How’s the 19th?”

Kid pulled out a phone, checking his calendar as Nakamori made an irate sound. “I’m booked.” Kid reported. “Can do the 17th or 20th though.”

“I’m out of town the 20th-“

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Nakamori bellowed, his face a violent angry red. Kid clicked his finger and held up a finger in the inspector’s direction, the thief’s gaze on his phone as if Nakamori was the one being unconscionably rude. 

“-I have work most of the 17th.” The gem owner continued. “But the evening is free.”

Kid made a thoughtful sound. “I supposed that would give me enough time-“

“You could check it now.” Saguru suggested. “Since you’re currently both free.”

Both Kid and the gem owner looked up at Saguru with identical looks of polite confusion. Saguru resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Not everything needs to be a magic show.”

Kid gasped in outrage, one gloved hand pressed against his chest, clearly offended.

“He’s got a point.” The gem owner gestured to the large stone on his desk. “Help yourself.”

Kid nodded, hopping off the desk, picking up the gem and walking over to the window and holding it up to the moonlight. When nothing happened, he turned back and set the gem back on the desk, offering the owner his gloved hand. “Thank you very much, it was a pleasure doing business with you.”

The gem owner shook his hand. “Likewise.”

Kid turned to the officers and gave them a polite tilt of his hat. “Gentlemen.” He said, then walked out the door.

Saguru pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily as no one moved. 

“-GET HIM!!” Nakamori belatedly bellowed, pointing to the door the thief had just walked out of. That seemed to startle the Task Force and they scrambled to take off running, several getting stuck in the doorway and preventing the others from escaping.

“Well.” Said the gem owner, looking quite chuffed. “That was exciting.” Saguru rubbed his face with a hand, torn between exasperation and amusement, remembering once again why he attended as many Kid heists as possible. He’d been to crime scenes for years and seriously. Stuff like this only happened with the Kaitou Kid. -fin-

[captainsophiestark]

Crib Construction

Cassian x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: ACOTAR

Summary: Cassian and his mate have been tasked with putting together Nyx's crib. Unfortunately, it's a harder task than they thought it would be.

Word Count: 1,282

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Cass, come here. Does this look right?"

My boyfriend didn't waste a second before joining me on the floor, kneeling behind me and looking over my shoulder. Neither of us spoke for a minute, then I heard a rustling of paper as Cassian sighed.

"Yeah, it looks right. That hasn't stopped it from being wrong before, though."

"Well, let's just hope for the best."

I could feel through the mating bond just how little Cassian wanted to do that, but he knew as well as I did that we didn't have much other choice. I took a deep breath, then gently pressed the two pieces of wood before me together, trying to get them to link like they were supposed to.

Of course, it didn't work. I added slightly more pressure, but still nothing. I put my entire weight and all of my strength into it, and when the damn thing still didn't budge, I let out a scream and shoved both pieces away from me before I could really lose my temper and accidentally break something.

"This is bullshit!" I shouted, whirling around to face Cassian. He had a look of grim resignation, meeting my eyes with sympathy. Our positions had been exactly reversed about ten minutes ago. "Rhys set this up as a way to get back at you for winning the snowball fight last time, and I'm getting caught in the collateral. This sucks."

"Honestly, maybe he did," Cass said, sighing and leaning back on his hands. "Or maybe Az did something to break this one too before he got kicked off the job."

I groaned, flopping over and into Cassian's side to lay against his chest and stare at the ridiculous contraption that had been defeating us all afternoon. Rhys and Feyre had asked us to assemble Nyx's crib, and at first, we'd been honored and happy to help. But hours later, when nothing was going right and none of the pieces were fitting together the way they were supposed to, I was about ready to throw all of it out the window and into the Sidra below.

We'd been given the task in the first place because Az had shattered the same type of crib to pieces after spending a day being stumped by the puzzle. Cassian and I had inherited the task for our ability to keep each other calm, and because we were generally less destructive when continually frustrated by a puzzle. This crib was about to ruin that reputation.

"Okay, maybe we should just start over from the beginning," I said, sitting up and turning to face Cassian after our brief rest. "Like, take everything apart and lay it all out on the floor again, then start back from step one."

Cassian groaned. "Honestly, I hate that idea. But what we're already doing clearing isn't working, so..."

"So let's try it. Deep breaths, and then a total reset. A fresh start."

"...Alright. Let's do it."

With a lot of heavy sighing, Cassian and I took apart what little progress we'd made, separating the crib back into its individual parts, the way it had come. Once we got it all laid out again, I took the instruction manual from Cass and laid that out in front of us, too. With one last deep breath, we started in again at step one on page one.

I wish I could say this attempt went better. But it didn't. Cassian and I almost destroyed the whole thing Az-style in a fit of frustration three times each, one of us barely managing to pull the other back every time. We were just lucky our destructive streaks never lined up, or the pieces of the crib before us would've already become nothing more than a pile of ash.

"Alright, that's it!" Cass finally shouted, standing up abruptly from where we'd been trying to wrestle together the corners of the crib with no luck, despite using both our strength at once. "I'll be right back."

"What?" I flung my arms out to either side of me as Cassian headed for the door. "You're abandoning me? Seriously?"

"Not abandoning! Changing tactics."

Before I could ask for clarification, Cassian was out the door. I stared after him, waiting for him to reappear or say he was kidding or something, but he didn't. I huffed, then shook my head and turned back to the crib, its pieces still mostly laid out on the floor.

I sat there and stared at the pieces for a few long beats, contemplating my next move. Honestly, I'd just about decided to throw them out the window and tell Rhys the thing'd never been here when the door came swinging open again.

I turned to find Cassian striding towards me, the confidence and determination back in his step. I raised an eyebrow at him, but he just grinned.

"I've solved all our problems."

I snorted, but smiled at Cassian all the same as he came to a stop before me. The fact that he'd managed to make me laugh at all in the middle of this nonsense was exactly why we were mates, and it made me love him even more.

"Cass, you know I love you, and you know I trust you, but... I'm having a hard time seeing how that could possibly be true. Unless you convinced Mor to take over for us...?"

"No, but just as good." I raised an eyebrow, and Cassian's grin widened as he dropped down next to me. Slowly, from behind his back, he pulled out a hammer, tape, and a few other supplies.

I just stared at everything for a moment, then snorted and leanded into Cassian. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"Babe... we can't use that stuff to put this crib together."

"Why not?"

"Because it won't be sturdy enough! We don't want it to give out while the baby's in it. We both know we can't risk that."

Cassian hummed, rocking forward just enough to get a few of the pieces of the crib into his hands. He lined them up like we'd been doing all day, then raised the hammer in his other hand.

"Maybe you're right about the tape," he said. "But all we need to fix this is a little extra power. We can't force it together with our strength alone, so we'll use a hammer."

"Cass-"

Before I could get another word out, Cassian swung the hammer. I could see him putting his full Illyrian strength into it, and sure enough, the pieces whacked together. Unfortunately for us, they also splintered into more pieces than would be fixable, even with tape.

Cassian and I just stared at the wreckage for a moment, neither of us speaking. Cassian was the one to break first.

"Shit."

I laughed, all the stress and ridiculousness of the past few hours disappearing along with our hopes of actually succeeding at our task. I leaned into Cassian, and a moment later, he joined me.

"Well, that didn't go like I was hoping," sighed Cassian. I laughed again.

"Really? That's not what you were going for?"

"Not quite."

We shared a smile, then slumped back together, Cassian's arm around my waist as I leaned into his chest. I sighed, staring at the ruins of the crib before us. Not a single part of me wanted to do something about fixing it.

"So... how about we call Mor and find a way to pass this on to her?"

I laughed, then nodded as I leaned even further into Cassian.

"Baby, I was thinking the same thing. You, me, and Az have had to tear our hair out over this thing already, I think it's her turn."

"And even better, if any of us has to call Amren in, it'll be Mor."

"Exactly."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Maasverse Taglist: @lilah-asteria

[myokk]

WIP Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @okeydokeylackey !!!! I LOVED YOUR SNIPPET & everyone should DEFINITELY check out your art/writing (I know I always love seeing it on my dash🥹🫶)

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

***DISCLAIMER THESE ARE ALL TYPED UP STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS AND UNEDITED BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAH***

Oneshot:

A beetle slowly makes its way across Sebastian Sallow’s desk.

The classroom is silent - save for the scratching of quills furiously calculating the Arithmatic probability of who will be the next Minister and the quiet murmur of his professor as she helps Hobhouse (how did he even get into the N.E.W.T. level?) - and Sebastian is going absolutely mad.

He counts how many seconds it takes for the beetle to reach his abandoned quill (fifteen). But, when it takes its seventh step after making it over the quill (an auspicious sign), Sebastian slams his hand down on top of it.

The loud noise echoes through the silent classroom and Sebastian hears her snickering coming from behind him as the whole class turns to see what has happened. His ears turn red, he wishes he could jinx her somehow, and yet he is terribly curious to see what she has sent him this time. Sebastian hopes that everyone has gone back to their equations and stops staring at him, because now that it’s in his hands, his fingers are itching to open it. His hands eagerly - shamefully eager, if you ask him - unravel the note he’s crumpled up in his hands - almost a shame that he destroyed the beetle, it was one of her better creations - and Sebastian soon curses his haste.

His ears would be an even deeper shade of red were his blood not currently draining to a different part of his body. Sebastian shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he continues reading the note, his eyes flying across the tiny note once, twice, three times before he crumples it up and adds it to the graveyard of the other notes she has been sending him all day. The words fuck my soaking cunt flash up at him and he adjusts his schoolbag so that if anyone walks past and looks into it, they won’t suspect a thing.

You see, this has been going on all day. Sebastian knew that when his seventh year started, it was going to the culmination of their academic rivalry, but he never expected this. That witch has made taunting him her personal vendetta, and it’s working.

Sebastian can’t get her out of his mind.

FIC - CHAPTER 25: (honestly I might delete this scene or save it for later)

She wanted him to hate her.

Hatred wasn’t what she saw in his eyes now, though.

Almost as if she were watching herself from afar, not in control of her body, Eloise came to a stop in front of Sebastian and looked down at him. The green light was highlighting his face and he looked ethereal, otherworldly. She watched her hand reach out and touch his cheek - hesitant, unsure - and when he didn’t jerk his head away as she expected - as she deserved - she moved to sit down next to him in the tiny space. Her knees bumped into his just like their noses bumped against each other as she moved her face towards his. Still, he didn’t move away.

She felt his warm breath fan across her lips. Maybe they stayed like that, lips not-quite-touching, for an eternity; maybe it was only a second. Eloise was only aware of Sebastian’s intoxicating presence, of the way his breath hitched when she finally bridged the gap between them, of the way her heart surrendered itself to him. This kiss was nothing like what they had shared before. It was hesitant, soft, sweet. His hands came up to her face, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss.

Eloise didn’t know what had gotten into her - she was supposed to be avoiding Sebastian, hating him, and yet she couldn’t pull herself out of his embrace. She was melting into his touch, his thumbs brushing themselves down her cheeks, her neck, fingers going through her hair, over and over as if to reassure himself of her presence, his lips moving languidly against hers. Eloise sighed into his mouth, almost-smiling but not-quite: she was nervous, as complicit as he was in this kiss, maybe even more, considering she had been the one to reach out first. But then -

Sebastian pulled away from her, puzzled, his hands moving back to cup Eloise’s face. He was saying something, rough thumbs gently brushing away the thick tears rolling down her cheeks. When had she started crying?

NO PRESSURE TAGS: @holdmymallowsweet @writing-intheundercroft @morelikeravenbore @sav-less @gothic-lottie @kay9leo @celestial--sapphic @libellule-ao3 @anomalyaly AND ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS TO DO IT IM SERIOUS !!!!!!!!! I CAN NEVER THINK OF WHO TO TAG & I WOULD LOVE TO SEE LITTLE EXCERPTS OF YOUR WRITING🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

[kandadze]

The death of the nameless guard in FoF ep 1

I was planning on including this in my bigger meta on deaths in FoF, especially since it's shown in juxtaposition to the death of the bunny demon WX caught earlier in the episode, but seeing that I'm here anyway...

I think that especially on the first watch, this senseless death, basically a kill in cold blood to make a point, is understandably considered a serious flaw in ZYZ's characterization overall. I also think that on the first watch, and in the very first episode, we're *supposed* to be disturbed by this. We're *supposed* to sit there with our mouths gaping open, going, what the fuck, man? Because in ep 1, ZYZ is supposed to look and feel and *be* the villain. We shouldn't forget that this is a powerful being who ZYC must hate for a good reason; oh sure he folds like a wet tissue when WX knifes him later, hahaha, great demon who? but she's the only one he allows to treat him like this, and we need to remember how terrifying this guy could be, if he chose to - he can literally kill someone by crooking his finger at them.

Cool motive still murder? Sure it is. The great demon killed a human being in cold blood. A few blocks down the road, the Chongwu Camp killed a defenseless bunny demon, also in cold blood.

Now what I didn't quite think of on my first watch, but realize is pretty obvious now, is that we need to look at the context of where we are when ZYZ makes his point so drastically, which will help us realize that there's (at least) one key difference between the bunny and the nameless guard (or at least the one difference I'm going to focus on). Our nameless guard is *not* a defenseless petty criminal, or a random human who just waltzed in from the street. (Like, y'know, not to look far, those patients who stepped into WZY's clinic that just happened to be situated above a dungeon full of captive demons.) He's a guy who signed up to work for a Demon Hunting Bureau. His *job* is to hunt - and often to kill, no doubt - demons. Right at the time ZYZ taunts ZYC with his powers, this guard, along with 15 others, is at the ready to step in and help ZYC to subdue the great demon, by any means necessary. Our nameless guard should know the risks of this line of job - how easy it is to turn from hunter to prey; heck, he probably signed a Tiandu equivalent of a safety waiver.

So, was this guy's death untimely? Sure it was. Was it senseless? No more than the bunny's. The difference is, even so early in the story, and painted as the villain, ZYZ didn't kill a civilian. For all intents and purposes, he killed a fantasy equivalent of a border patrol officer, who was ready to kill *him*.

(I have more thoughts but I think I got my point across. Off to gif stuff.)

[muffinsin]

Hey, it's platonic anon again, I hope you don't mind me asking, as I have been feeling a little bit insecure lately, if you do one with alcina + daughters separate reactions to a fem head maid reader slowly getting deeper in depression because she has a little pudge that she doesn't like, but it just makes he look like a teddybear, and the maids have been making fun of her recently, and then she stops showing up to work all together, staying in her room and only eating one meal a day?

-platonic anon

Awhh, this is hella adorable, absolutely! :) Imma have to remove Alci though, hunny, I don't write for her though might occaisonally include her in pieces when I feel like it

Also oops, this got way longer than I thought it would, so imma have to split it into 3 parts. This one’s Bela’s

Let's get into it! :)

Masterlists found at pinned; rip, my linking is busted

Bela

Being involved with the maidens by far more than her sisters, professionally so even, Bela notices when you don't show up for work immediately

And at first, she's willing to turn a blind eye to it, thinking that maybe you're simply too tired too work, or in need of a vacation

She does admit, there isn't all that much of that at the castle

But, she likes you

And as such, she's willing to ignore that you aren't working as you should be

That is, for the first two days, at least

She is sure: you know to come to her when in need of a break

It's not like she won't grant you one, so long as it isn't harvesting season or the beginning of winter and all staff members are needed

But it isn't, and your disappearance starts to feel a little...odd

Now, she wouldn't describe herself as someone caring for the maids, head maiden or not

But, she likes you

A kind, loving, hard working woman

Someone she finds: she enjoys spending her time with, and someone she has enjoyed getting to know

Not showing up to work is so...unusual for you. So out of character

And as such, despite what she's sure her sisters would say, she seeks you out

Knocking on the door to your room- despite not having to knock at pretty much any door in the castle due to her status- she waits patiently until you open the door for her

What she takes in has her gasp in surprise and take a step back momentarily

Your room is warm, yes, but the air has adapted a strange scent that has her scrunch up her nose. She never thought she’d want to open a window

You’re curled in bed, underneath the blankets, but she still sees the thick clothing covering you

Briefly, she worries this might be too warm for a little human, but drops the thought again

- temperature wise, you seem well and healthy enough

She takes a step closer again, her golden eyes finding yours at last

You seem…off

Yet now that she stands in front of you, she seems at a loss for words, unsure what to say

It’s not like she’s used to cheering up anyone but her sisters

Glancing to the side, she sees multiple plates by your nightstand

One for each day you spent in your room

Is that all you’ve eaten?

In her mind, she recalls: humans are supposed to eat three days a meal. Especially those hard at work

You don’t speak, only stare at her, as if too tired and drained to do much

For once, she doesn’t mind the lack of respectful bows and what not

For once, she supposes she can let this be a casual, friendly conversation

Still unsure of what to say, she sits by your bed, her flies buzzing anxiously

You look up for a moment, your eyes trailing across her face, down her neck and to her exposed collarbone, her chest and slim hips and waist

You can’t help but fiddle with the blankets, can’t help but compare her build to yours

Normally, you don’t care

But the words from the maidens, the mockery aimed at you, hurt recently

You almost wish you could be like Bela, so confident, so strong, so strikingly beaufiful

You only ever want to be that, you think

“Did…something happen?”, she asks eventually, frowning slightly, as if unsure about her words

She really isn’t sure about this, or how to go about this, and just hopes her awkward words come out right

For once, she wishes she was a little more like Daniela and could effortlessly keep this conversation up and ask whether you’re alright without this awkwardness

You gulp, pulled from your thoughts

It’s a little unusual to see her like this- so…out of her element, almost

Still, you treasure her company, and see what she’s doing

“I’m fine”, you lie, pressing your eyes shut and refusing to whimper

You don’t want to lie to her

You want to tell her all about it, want to even throw your arms around her and cry

Bela’s just always had this aura about her that made you seek her favor and praise

At the same time, you don’t want to drive her away now, don’t want to “bother” her with your problems

She frowns, confused. Hearing your heart quickening and picking up the scent of your sweat, she’s hardly fooled by your answer

Only does she not quite understand why you’d lie. Especially to her

Instead, she does what she often does when her sisters lie to her and she sees through it. She stays quiet

You whimper as her golden eyes stay on you, a gentle gaze, but one that tells you she’s awaiting your response and giving you the opportunity to correct yourself

And, wise enough, you do so

You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you pull away the blankets and pull the hoodie covering you up just slightly, just enough to show her the small pouch at your belly from under your top

Alas, she doesn’t react, unsure what this means

While having been taught to express herself always, Bela is almost a stranger to insecurity- at the very least as it comes to her body

She’s never felt worried about the way she looks, paying little mind to it

You envy her

Then, just when you cover yourself up again, she asks again;

“Did something happen, little one?”

You crack

The nickname is enough for tears to run down your cheeks and- to your surprise- you feel her arm wrap around you

You’re pulled to her, sniffling

You pick up her scent, her elegant perfume and the metallic scent of blood lying underneath, only picked up this close to her

And briefly, just briefly, you have a dark thought, wishing she could just kill those that treated you so unfairly

With her arm around you, you feel impossibly safe- likely unlike most others that are this close to her

You begin to talk, begin to tell her of everything

Of the mockery, of the laughter

Of the little, stabbing comments made here and there

Of the looks

Of the mean glances and words

Of your insecurities and the growing feeling of anxiety and emptiness in you

And Bela?

She doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t talk. She only listens to you, humming occasionally to let you know you have her full attention

It’s a wonderful feeling

As you elaborate and cry a little more, she holds you tighter

She seems a little less awkward now, as if used to hold someone when they cry, and briefly you feel a strike of envy, wondering if there’s other maidens held by her and comforted like this. Then, the feeling fades when you figure; it must be Daniela, her younger sister, who you know cries easily from own experiences of holding and comforting the young woman after one of her episodes

You find, Bela offers the best hugs, though, and likely quite the rare ones

You stay close to her, breathing out a sigh of relief when you finish talking

It’s almost like speaking about it helped

She doesn’t quite understand their behavior, writes it off to the general behavior of scum

She finds, as such, they deserve to be treated just as certain way, too

You’re granted another day of staying in your room until Bela insists you return to work

More surprisingly, though, you find a maid, one of the newer ones, a little shy, but friendly, bring you a meal three times a day that day

She doesn’t say a thing, too nervous in the castle still, but you’re certain she was tasked to do so by Bela

And when you do return to work, anxious and dressed in slightly bigger clothes than normal, as if you could hide away, you find no trace of those who mocked you

Perhaps wickedly, you wonder what happened to them, whether they’ve been dragged away, killed, mauled, toyed with my the sadistic Dimitrescu sisters

Whether Bela in particular killed them. Is killing them. Is hurting them

But it’s like they never even existed, instead

You hear no screams at night. No whispers of what might have happened at all

It’s almost like your problems dissolved into thin air…

And you know you have none other than Bela Dimitrescu to thank for it

[nerdasaurus1200]

A little fix it fic cause the Zaun family deserved a better ending. Also, I just realized, this is my first Arcane fanfic, so I hope y’all like it!

Not Over Yet

“Is that singing I hear?” Caitlyn’s voice pulled Vi away from the fire for a moment. Despite the teasing smile, she still tried to covertly look at the plate on the table beside her partner. The sandwich was half eaten this time. That was at least some progress.

“Oh, yeah. It’s just this..silly little song my mom used to sing to me and Jinx when we were little.” Vi laughed under her breath. It was still a little strange calling her sister that.

“Before she…you know.” Vi looked back at the fire and shrugged, and she could see Caitlyn nodding slightly. The fire was a welcome distraction, but it still put her on edge. It reminded her too much of Vander dy-…of the accident. She swore she could see all their faces in the flames if she looked hard enough. All those she lost…or maybe she was just starting to see things too. Was this how Jinx felt all those years? That weird sense of…of emptiness while never being alone? Like some ghost was always watching over her shoulder?

Well, it wasn’t like she could ask her now.

“How did the service go?” Caitlyn wrapped an arm around Vi and leaned her head on her shoulder.

“Alright.” Vi shrugged again, unable to pull her face away from the flames, “I don’t know how I didn’t break down by the time it was my turn to get up there and spew sappy shit.”

Caitlyn chuckled, a dry and bittersweet sound.

“I think little man’s taking it pretty hard. He couldn’t even look me in the eye.” Vi recalled.

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed for a moment as she took in Vi’s words, trying to think of anything that would provide some comfort, “…I think Ekko just needs a bit of time. We all grieve in different ways.”

“Oh yeah, cupcake, some people go crazy, and other people decide to play dictator and declare martial law.” Vi remarked with a playful glare. Caitlyn huffed affectionately and flicked a strand of Vi’s hair, which in turn made Vi chuckle.

But then as soon as the happiness came, it vanished. It was so hard to be happy these days, with all that had happened.

“Have, uh…have the reports come back yet?” Vi asked cautiously.

Caitlyn’s eyes softened in sadness as she leaned forward to kiss Vi’s cheek, “Still no signs of any remains in the Hexgates. Only the bomb shrapnels we were able to initially recover.”

Vi’s jaw clenched ever so slightly and her eyes hardened for a moment. Damn it all, three times and they still couldn’t find any sign of her family??? Weren’t Enforcers supposed to be good at sticking their nose in stuff like this?

“However, I was looking at the schematics of the Hexgates, and…” Caitlyn let herself trail off as she dropped a piece of paper into Vi’s lap.

Vi’s eyes narrowed as she looked it over, some of it made sense but some of it was just nonsense, “Cupcake, what the hell is this?”

“If you and I know anything about your sister, it’s that she’s always two steps ahead.” Caitlyn pointed out, “The Hexgates have plenty of air ducts that she could’ve used as an escape route and we’d be nonethewiser.”

Vi’s eyes widened as Caitlyn’s implication hung in the air. So Jinx and Vander could be…her family really could be…

“If she’s alive she’ll turn up sooner or later. But we have a lot of work to do until that happens. For Piltover and for Zaun.” Caitlyn spoke softly, a gentle determination in her voice. Vi was helpless to the smirk that appeared on one side of her mouth. There she was, there was the Cupcake she knew.

“…Are you still in this fight, Violet?” Caitlyn couldn’t help but ask. At her question, a fond huff escaped Vi. She turned to look at her partner with a smile as she interlaced their fingers together.

“I am the dirt under your nails, cupcake.” She declared, “Nothing’s gonna clean me out.”

Caitlyn’s eyes sparkled with love, and then she smirked playfully, “That’s Sheriff Cupcake you you, creampuff.”

The couple shared another laugh as their forehead gently pressed together. For a moment, the world fell away…it was just them.

“…could you teach me that song?” Caitlyn asked.

Vi blinked in surprise, and then nodded, “Yeah sure.”

Then she began to sing, “Dear friend, across the river…my hands…are cold and bare…”

~~~~

“Dear friend, across the river, I’ll take…what you can spare…”

Jinx alternated between humming and singing as she steered the airship, just staring out at the horizon before her. She wasn’t even sure how far away from Piltover they were now.

A familiar little shove pulled her attention away however.

“Heyy, do not distract the driver.” Jinx scolded, though her tone betrayed that she wasn’t actually that serious. Not that she ever was.

Janna above, Jinx was more grateful than ever for that mischievous that little smile now. If Ekko hadn’t saved Isha, then, well…

Jinx thought it best not to dwell on that. Or else Mylo might start up again and the last thing she needed was his smart mouth. Either way, she owed Ekko a solid for it. And of course, for helping her steal an airship.

Isha giggled and hugged Jinx, but still made a bit of a stink face as she saw Jinx’s hair.

“What, you don’t like my new haircut?” Jinx teased, and rolled her eyes fondly when Isha shook her head.

“Ah, you’re just mad cause you can’t play jumprope with my braids for a while.” Jinx reached out and gently pushed Isha’s helmet to cover her eyes for a moment. Isha giggled again as she pushed her helmet back up. Jinx stepped back and let Isha take the wheel.

“Sooo, what next Fishbones?” Jinx pulled her shark rocket launcher out.

“We’ll do our laundry, wash the dishes, pay some bills, and get Isha into a good school!” Fishbones ‘spoke’ sounding rather excited about such mundane activities. Isha looked excited too as she steered, while Jinx looked incredibly annoyed.

“Stupid dumb rocket launcher.” She muttered, giving Fishbones a firm smack. At the sound, a rough old growl was heard a few feet away. Neither Jinx nor Isha flinched, they were used to that sound by now.

“Hey, don’t worry, Vander.” Jinx set the rocket launched down and sat beside her adopted father, “We’ll find another way. We always do. In the meantime, Vi can relax a little playing housewife to the Hat Lady.”

Isha pulled a lever near the steering wheel of the airship and moved over to sit next to Jinx and Vander. After she was settled all snug and cozy in Vander’s fur, she signed at Jinx.

“Oh, you want me to keep singing, huh? Mmmm…well alright.” Jinx agreed.

“You still haven’t mentioned where exactly you plan on going.” Silco’s voice could be heard, his hallucination lingering in the shadows by Mylo and Claggor.

Jinx smiled and shrugged in acknowledgement. She still hadn’t quite figured that part out yet. For now, the top priorities were keeping Isha safe, and getting Vander’s mind back.

This time, Jinx chose to ignore Silco for once as she sang, “We raise…no mighty towers, our homes…are built of stone, so come…across the river, and find…the world below…”

[eponymous-rose]

Some (many) thoughts on Arcane s2 while it's still fresh in my mind:

(tw: discussion of fictional depictions of suicide)

I'm gonna do some nitpicking here, but only because I really did like it overall - I think for me s1 was a solid 10/10 and this season was an 8.5/10, so I'm certainly looking forward to rewatching it! The animation was a big step up from s1's incredible work, the music was great, the performances were fantastic. I do think the overall writing/story fell down a bit, though.

It's weird, because my go-to when character arcs feel rushed is to want more episodes, but I don't think that necessarily would have solved my issues with this season.

Cait turned on Ambessa on a dime - we love to see it, but I think we maybe needed a few more overt hints of her discomfort with her position, maybe a sense of wrongness in their adoptive relationship and some parallels with Jinx & Silco given what Vi says early on ("why are you the one acting like her?"). Ambessa believes her daughter to be lost, and Cait has lost a mother - they were certainly playing on that substitution, but the eventual turn, while fun, felt a bit quick and unearned. I saw someone joke about the word "Cupcake" flipping Cait back like a sleeper agent, but that's kinda how abrupt things felt.

I think Mel's plot largely hung together okay, although it was pretty disconnected from everyone except Ambessa - would've loved to have seen some acknowledgement that Cait was filling her shoes as Daughter for a while there.

Isha was sweet and I liked the parallels with the Powder-Vi relationship (LOVED Jinx running with the pink chalk and Isha with the blue), but I think the sacrifice metaphor got a little muddled. The parallels with Powder charging in and killing everyone around her, versus Isha charging in and saving everyone but herself felt a little forced and I struggled to see how they served the greater narrative. The whole point of Powder's failure was a messy combination of bad luck, overcompensating for what she perceived as a lack of confidence in her, etc. Isha had Jinx's confidence on her side, I guess, and now of course we have the foreshadowing of Jinx dying to save someone else, which she's been trying to do since Act II.

Suicide was a pretty heavy concept throughout the first season. We had the parallels of Jayce and Viktor, we had the little-remarked-upon moment where Viktor hesitates before cutting the wire on Jinx's bomb. I actually think this season did pretty well with those two (although I'll talk about a couple things that irked me below), but the concept that we can't escape the things that we've done and we instead have to find salvation in those around us felt kind of contrary to Jinx's finally finding a way to die for her sister. I don't know that Jinx's story was necessarily supposed to feel satisfying or complete, but without another season there's not much to dig through there.

And that brings up the main reason I don't think more episodes would have resolved my quibbles with this season: it was pretty prone to overexplaining. To me, one of the most exceptional things about that first season was how little it explained. You had these gorgeous, evocative flashes of Vander trying to kill Silco, Silco stabbing him and fleeing into the night, and that's all we needed! That's it! We didn't need to know the specifics, we didn't need more backstory than that - the whole point of the season was that these kids are trying to make their own stories, and these guys have set the stage and are in the process of bowing out. Much as I loved the glimpses this season into the past generation's adventures, it felt like it was pinning something down that was more effectively left to the imagination.

There were also some weird fumbles with discussions of disability, especially in that last episode. I loved so much of what season one did with it - the older generation of Zaunites almost all had some form of disability due to the way they'd been systematically poisoned and their constant exposure to danger, and that was a really in-your-face way to challenge the early "why can't we all get along" stuff. And so much of Viktor's and Jayce's arcs are tied in with the sense of time running out and how Heimerdinger's long-term goals are incompatible with helping the people suffering right now. But instead we get this weird "you didn't like your imperfections so you tried to eliminate all imperfections", which doesn't quite ring true.

We just fundamentally didn't get to a resolution that I think was heavily implied, especially in Act II. "No one in power is innocent" is a great, raw line, but we didn't really see it play out. Instead, we have everyone stopping from othering each other in order to band together against an even bigger Other. As a side note, I don't think that Sevika's ending is meant to be a positive thing - we see from the skeptical looks of others that she's got a long road ahead. The revolution we saw coming just sort of fizzled out, and I think it's still on the horizon, which makes things feel incomplete.

There were also a lot of notes that repeated instead of echoing or harmonizing. We had variations on the theme of Vander dying three different times. We had Vi being unable to kill her sister several times. The repetition felt a bit like it was filling time instead of moving things forward the way s1's plot kept pushing.

This season is also the first time I felt the hand of League of Legends Canon shoving the plot into place. We knew Vi was heading for that enforcer uniform, but after the initial conflict it sometimes felt more like we just unlocked a new skin for the character. The Vander-as-Warwick stuff was kind of silly and out of left field, although it was executed pretty well and certainly pulled at the ol' heartstrings. Ekko getting his time abilities was fun and impacted the final fight, but I feel like we were missing something there as well that I'm having a harder time putting my finger on. Some of Viktor's lines felt designed to make the League players in the audience go "HE SAID THE THING". And I hate the feeling of setting up the Next Installment in the Cinematic Universe, probably just because I'm exhausted with Marvel stuff - I'd love for an adaptation like this to be able to really and truly stand on its own.

Overall, it just felt less like the characters were driving the story and more like they were ticking off boxes, which is just something that any good finale has to contend with one way or another.

Anyway, that's a lot of nitpicking. Fundamentally, this felt almost like it was a really strong fic that did a surprisingly good job of wrapping everything up and was stunningly put together in places... but still lacked the spark of the original.

Stuff I loved: Vi/Cait getting a pretty strong arc and certainly the first lesbian sex scene I've ever seen in a TV-14 cartoon. Animation and score was stunning. I did love the what-if of episode 7 - something I've been waiting for them to acknowledge is that literally everything that happens in the show follows from that one break-in during episode one. I actually think Vi and Jinx's reunion and reconciliation felt earned.

I'm curious how I'll feel on subsequent rewatches - the first time I watched s1, I remember being blown away but not in a "this is the best thing ever" way, and it wasn't until the second time that it really clicked for me.